LXXIX Mixed with such secret bane the waters glide, Which amorous care convert to sudden hate; The maid no sooner had Rinaldo spied, Than on her laughing eyes deep darkness sate: And with sad mien and trembling voice she cried To Sacripant, and prayed him not to wait The near approach of the detested knight, But through the wood with her pursue his flight. LXXX To her the Saracen, with anger hot: "Is knightly worship sunk so low in me, That thou should'st hold my valour cheap, and not Sufficient to make yonder champion flee? Already are Albracca's fights forgot, And that dread night I singly stood for thee? That night when I, though naked, was thy shield Against King Agrican and all his field?" LXXXI She answers not, and knows not in her fear What 'tis she does; Rinaldo is too nigh: And from afar that furious cavalier Threats the bold Saracen with angry cry, As soon as the known steed and damsel dear, Whose charms such flame had kindled, meet his eye. But what ensued between the haughty pair I in another canto shall declare. CANTO 2 ARGUMENT A hermit parts, by means of hollow sprite, The two redoubted rivals' dangerous play; Rinaldo goes where Love and Hope invite, But is dispatched by Charles another way; Bradamont, seeking her devoted knight, The good Rogero, nigh becomes the prey Of Pinabel, who drops the damsel brave Into the dungeon of a living grave. I Injurious love, why still to mar accord Between desires has been thy favourite feat? Why does it please thee so, perfidious lord, Two hearts should with a different measure beat? Thou wilt not let me take the certain ford, Dragging me where the stream is deep and fleet. Her I abandon who my love desires, While she who hates, respect and love inspires. II Thou to Rinaldo show'st the damsel fair, While he seems hideous to that gentle dame; And he, who when the lady's pride and care, Paid back with deepest hate her amorous flame, Now pines, himself, the victim of despair, Scorned in his turn, and his reward the same. By the changed damsel in such sort abhorred, She would choose death before that hated lord. III He to the Pagan cries: "Forego thy theft, And down, false felon, from that pilfer'd steed; I am not wont to let my own be reft. And he who seeks it dearly pays the deed. More -- I shall take from thee yon lovely weft; To leave thee such a prize were foul misdeed; And horse and maid, whose worth outstrips belief, Were ill, methinks, relinquished to a thief." IV "Thou liest," the haughty Saracen retorts, As proud, and burning with as fierce a flame, "A thief thyself, if Fame the truth reports: But let good deeds decide our dubious claim, With whom the steed or damsel fair assorts: Best proved by valiant deeds: though, for the dame, That nothing is so precious, I with thee (Search the wide world throughout) may well agree."