LVII.
“If good Anglante’s lord the prize forbore,
“Nor seized the fair occasion when he might,
“The loss be his, if Fortune never more
“Him to enjoy so fair a prize invite.
“To imitate that lord of little lore
“I think not,” said, apart, Circassia’s knight,
“To quit such proffered good, and, to my shame,
“Have but myself on after-thought to blame.
LVIII.
“No! I will pluck the fresh and morning rose,
“Which, should I tarry, may be overblown.
“To woman, (this my own experience shows),
“No deed more sweet or welcome can be done[13].
“Then, whatsoever scorn the damsel shows,
“Though she awhile may weep and make her moan,
“I will, unchecked by anger, false or true,
“Or sharp repulse, my bold design pursue.”
LIX.
This said, he for the soft assault prepares,
When a loud noise within the greenwood shade
Beside him, rang in his astounded ears,
And sore against his will the monarch stayed.
He donned his helm (his other arms he wears),
Aye wont to rove in steel, with belted blade,
Replaced the bridle on his courser fleet,
Grappled his lance, and sprang into his seat.
