RENUCHIO. Since so is your request, that I shall do, Although my mind so sorrowful a thing Repines to tell, and though my voice eschews To say what I have seen; yet since your will So fixed stands to hear for what I rue, Your great desires I shall herein fulfil. Fast by Salerne city, amids the plain, There stands a hill whose bottom, huge and round. Thrown out in breadth, a large space doth contain: And gathering up in height, small from the ground, Still less and less it mounts: there sometime was A goodly tower uprear'd, that flower'd in fame While fate and fortune serv'd; but time doth pass, And with his sway suppresseth all the same: For now the walls be even'd with the plain, And all the rest so foully lies defac'd, As but the only shade doth there remain Of that, which there was built in time forepass'd: And yet that shows what worthy work tofore Hath there been rear'd. One parcel of that tower[75] Yet stands, which eating time could not devour: A strong turret, compact of stone and rock, Hugy without, but horrible within: To pass to which, by force of handy stroke, A crooked strait is made, that enters in, And leads into this ugly loathsome place. Within the which, carved into the ground, A deep dungeon[76] there runs of narrow space. Dreadful and dark, where never light is found: Into this hollow cave, by cruel hest Of King Tancred, were divers servants sent To work the horror of his furious breast, Erst nourish'd in his rage, and now stern bent To have the same perform'd. I woful man, Amongst the rest, was one to do the thing. That to our charge so straitly did belong, In sort as was commanded by the king. Within which dreadful prison when we came, The noble County Palurin, that there Lay chain'd in gyves,[77] fast fetter'd in his bolts, Out of the dark dungeon we did uprear, And hal'd him thence into a brighter place, That gave us light to work our tyranny. But when I once beheld his manly face, And saw his cheer, no more appall'd with fear Of present death, than he whom never dread Did once amate:[78] my heart abhorred then To give consent unto so foul a deed: That wretched death should reave so worthy a man. On false fortune I cried with loud complaint, That in such sort o'erwhelms nobility. But he, whom never grief ne fear could taint, With smiling cheer himself oft willeth me To leave to plain his case, or sorrow make For him; for he was far more glad apaid Death to embrace thus for his lady's sake, Than life or all the joys of life, he said. For loss of life, quoth he, grieves me no more Than loss of that which I esteemed least: My lady's grief, lest she should rue therefore, Is all the cause of grief within my breast. He pray'd therefore, that we would make report To her of those his last words he would say: That, though he never could in any sort Her gentleness requite, nor never lay Within his power to serve her as he would; Yet she possess'd his heart with hand and might, To do her all the honour that he could.