XLI So swimming till the island is attained, With this towards the rock Orlando speeds: He hawls the anchor home (a footing gained), Pricked by whose double fluke, the monster bleeds. The labouring orc to follow is constrained, Dragged by that force which every force exceeds; Which at a single sally more achieves Than at ten turns the circling windlass heaves. XLII As a wild bull, about whose horn is wound The unexpected noose, leaps here and there, When he has felt the cord, and turns him round, And rolls and rises, yet slips not the snare; So from his pleasant seat and ancient bound, Dragged by that arm and rope he cannot tear, With thousands of strange wheels and thousand slides, The monster follows where the cable guides. XLIII This the red sea with reason would be hight To-day, such streams of blood have changed its hue; And where the monster lashed it in his spite, The eye its bottom through the waves might view. And now he splashed the sky, and dimmed the light Of the clear sun, so high the water flew. The noise re-echoing round, the distant shore And wood and hill rebound the deafening roar. XLIV Forth from his grotto aged Proteus hies, And mounts above the surface at the sound; And having seen Orlando dive, and rise From the orc, and drag the monstrous fish to ground, His scattered flock forgot, o'er ocean flies; While so the din increases, that, astound, Neptune bids yoke his dolphins, and that day For distant Aethiopia posts away. XLV With Melicerta on her shoulders, weeping Ino, and Nereids with dishevelled hair, The Glauci, Tritons, and their fellows, leaping They know not whither, speed, some here, some there. Orlando draws to land, the billows sweeping, That horrid fish, but might his labour spare: For, with the torment worn, and travel sore, The brute, exhausted, died, ere dragged ashore. XLVI Of the islanders had trooped no petty throng, To witness that strange fight, who by a vain And miserable superstition stung, Esteemed such holy deed a work profane; And said that this would be another wrong To Proteus, and provoke his ire again; Make him his herds pour forth upon the strand, And with the whole old warfare vex the land; XLVII And that it better were to sue for peace, First from the injured god, lest worse ensue; And Proteus from his cruel hate would cease, If they into the sea the offender threw. As torch to torch gives fire, and lights increase, Until the flame is spread the country through, Even so from heart to heart the fury spread, Which in the waves would doom Orlando dead.