LXXIII " 'Twere long to tell of Alda de Sansogna, Or of Celano's countess in this string, Or Blanche Maria, stiled of Catalonia; Or her, the daughter of Sicilia's king, Or of the beauteous Lippa de Bologna, Or more, with whose renown the world shall ring, To speak whose separate praise with fitting lore, Were to attempt a sea without a shore." LXXIV When of the larger portion of her seed The king enchantress at full ease had told, And oft and oft rehearsed, amid the rede, What arts Rogero to the wizard's hold Had drawn, Melissa halted near the mead Where stood the mansion of Atlantes old, Nor would approach the magic dome more nigh, Lest her the false magician should espy. LXXV And yet again advised the martial maid, (Counsel she had a thousand times bestowed) Then left, Nor Bradamant through greenwood shade More than two miles in narrow path had rode, Before, by two fierce giants overlaid, She saw a knight, who like Rogero showed, So closely pressed, and labouring sore for breath, That he appeared well nigh reduced to death. LXXVI When she beheld him in such perilous strait, Who of Rogero all the tokens wore, She quickly lost the faith she nourished late, Quickly her every fair design forbore. She weens Melissa bears Rogero hate, For some new injury unheard before: And with unheard of hate and wrong, her foe Would by her hand destroy who loves him so. LXXVII She cried, "And is not this Rogero, who Aye present to my heart, is now to sight? If 'tis not him whom I agnize and view. Whom e'er shall I agnize or view aright? Why should I other's judgment deem more true Than the belief that's warranted by sight? Even without eyes, and by my heart alone, If he were near or distant, would be shown." LXXVIII While so the damsel thinks, a voice she hears, Which, like Rogero's, seems for aid to cry; At the same time, the worsted knight appears To slack the bridle and the rowels ply: While at full speed the goaded courser clears His ground, pursued by either enemy. Nor paused the dame, in following them who sought His life, till to the enchanted palace brought. LXXIX Of which no sooner has she past the door, Than she is cheated by the common show. Each crooked way or straight her feet explore Within it and without, above, below; Nor rests she night or day, so strong the lore Of the enchanter, who has ordered so, She (though they still encounter and confer) Knows not Rogero, nor Rogero her. LXXX But leave we Bradamant, nor grieve, O ye Who hear, that she is prisoned by the spell, Since her in fitting time I shall set free, And good Rogero, from the dome as well, As taste is quickened by variety, So it appears that, in the things I tell, The wider here and there my story ranges, It will be found less tedious for its changes.