LXXIV. "Oh! what a theme for mockery and mirth! "Scared by a ghost-the truth I'll not dissemble, LXXV. "Those giants, ugly, powerful, fierce, and hideous, "Have put me into such a strange quandary! "I see them!-Oh! they 'll make the night so tedious ! "I ne'er can sleep alone!-See!-Blessed Mary! "Lord! how they stare! and then that witch insidious ! "—Sir, with your wife all night I fain would tarry." Mine host, grown jealous, makes him this reply— "We see your drift, Sir Knave, with half an eye." LXXVI. With this, he catches up a piece of á stick, 84 And says, "Your folly shall have this reward;" Then brandishes the same with air gymnastic. Rinaldo on his knees solicits hard For pardon, in a whining strain bombastic. Mine host does this as cowardice regard, And hits him on the nob: the knight grows furious, 85 And takes him by both legs, in mode most curious, LXXVII. And round the chamber makes the lubbard swing; LXXVIII. To bed the Knight betakes him, till the sky Alone, on foot, he treads the dewy lawn; (Gift of a dame on whom he used to fawn) To see if aught of useful knowledge he Might haply reap from her astrology, LXXIX. There reads (at page six hundred forty-five) What her profound foreknowledge doth command, How he the fay must bind, and burn alive; Strew them where most the doe had use to drive LXXX. How, passing o'er that path, they each shall doff Shall joyous sing, right blithely, by his side; "But mind, if you release the captived witch, "She'll whip you dead with scourge of giant Stritch.” LXXXI. He scales the mount-Traggéa hears the clang Of arms, and spies the Knight-then bawls, "Some broth "Would'st have, my lad ?" (in Babylonish slang) 86 66 Come, win it first.”—Rinaldo, waxing wroth, Cries, "Beast! right soon we'll give thee such a bang, ""T will change to dying groans thy vapouring froth." -Traggéa hurls huge stone with hasty hand 87 At our brave Peer-He ducks, and draws his brand.— LXXXII. His brand he draws, and, darting on him quick, A sword it was to pierce through armour thick Then headlong grunts, and dies like loathsome swine, 88 When Striccia sees the downfal of his fellow, He roars! the mountain groans! the rocks rebellow! LXXXIII. Thunder'd his voice! as lightning flash'd his eye! 89 And, lo! his switch he levels at our Knight, (So sudden, had he wish'd, he could not fly) Aiming a blow that must have crush'd him quite; By feint Rinaldo turns the stroke awry, 90 Then driveth at his foe, with main and might, |