III This was the Paynim little skilled to do, Who was but daring to his proper loss; And to the moat impelled his meiny, who One and all perished in the burning fosse. The mighty gulf had not contained the crew, But that, devouring those who sought to cross, Them into dust the flame reduced, that room Might be for all within the crowded tomb. IV Of twenty thousand warriors thither sent, Died nineteen thousand in the fiery pit; Who to the fosse descended, ill content; But so their leader willed, of little wit: Extinguished amid such a blaze, and spent By the devouring flame the Christians lit. And Rodomont, occasion of their woes, Exempted from the mighty mischief goes: V For he to the inner bank, by foes possest, Across the ditch had vaulted wonderously: Had he within it been, among the rest, It sure had been his last assault. His eye He turns, and when the wild-fires, which infest The infernal vale, he sees ascend so high, And hears his people's moan and dying screams, With imprecations dread he Heaven blasphemes. VI This while a band King Agramant had brought, To make a fierce assault upon a gate: For while the cruel battle here was fought, Wherein so many sufferers met their fate, This haply unprovided had he thought With fitting guard. Upon the monarch wait King Bambirago, 'mid his knights of price, And Baliverso, sink of every vice. VII And Corineus of Mulga, Prusion, The wealthy monarch of the blessed isles; Malabuferzo, he who fills the throne Of Fez, where a perpetual summer smiles; And other noble lords, and many a one Well-armed and tried; and others 'mid their files, Naked, and base, whose hearts in martial fields Had found no shelter from a thousand shields. VIII But all things counter to the hopes ensue Of Agramant upon his side; within, In person, girded by a gallant crew, Is Charlemagne, with many a paladin: Ogier the Duke, King Salamon, the two Guidos are seen, and either Angelin; Bavaria's duke, and Ganelon are here, Avino, Avolio, Otho, and Berlinghier. IX And of inferior count withal, a horde Of Lombards, French, and Germans, without end; Who, every one, in presence of his lord, To rank among the valiantest contend, This will I in another place record; Who here a mighty duke perforce attend, Who signs to me from far, and prays that I Will not omit him in my history. X 'Tis time that I should measure back my way Thither, where I Astolpho left of yore; Who, in long exile, loathing more to stay, Burnt with desire to tread his native shore; As hopes to him had given the sober fay, Who quelled Alcina by her better lore, She with all care would send the warrior back By the securest and the freest track.