CXV The host, arriving, him at full possest Of every thing, -- and how, in white array, That warrior, with the lady and the rest, Had to the city measured back their way. By little and by little, Gryphon guessed What love from him had hidden till that day; And knew, to his great sorrow, in the other Origille's paramour, and not her brother. CXVI Now he lamenting for his folly stood, That having heard the truths the pilgrim said, He should have let her story change his mood, Who him before so often had betrayed. He might have venged himself, nor did: -- now wou'd, Too late, inflict the punishment delaid; Constrained (a crying error!) in his need To take that wily treachour's arms and steed. CXVII He better would have gone like naked man, Than braced the unworthy cuirass on his breast; Or hastened the detested shield to span, Or place upon his helm the scorned crest. But of the lover, and that courtezan, He, passion mastering reason, took the quest: And bending to Damascus' gate his way, Arrived an hour before the close of day. CXVIII On the left hand a castle richly dight Stood nigh the gate, to which Sir Gryphon rode. Besides, that it was strong and armed for fight, Filled with rare chambers was the rich abode. The first of Syria, king, and lord, and knight, And lady, in a gentle group bestowed, There in an open gallery fairly met, Were at their glad and costly supper set. CXIX With the high tower the beauteous gallery, clear Beyond the city-wall, projected out, From whence might be discovered, far and near, The spacious fields and different roads about. When Gryphon now, in his opprobrious gear, And arms, dishonoured by the rabble's flout, Makes, by ill fortune, to the gate resort, He by the king is seen, and all his court; CXX And, taken for the man whose crest he wears, In dame and knight moves laughter, through the ring. The vile Martano, as a man who shares The royal grace, sits next below the king; And next, she, whom her love so fitly pairs; Whom Norandino gaily questioning. Demands of them, who is the coward knight, That of his honour makes so passing light; CXXI Who, after feat so base and foul, anew Approaches, with such front and shameless cheer, -- And cries, "It seems a thing unheard, that you, An excellent and worthy cavalier, Should take this man for your companion, who Has not in all our wide Levant his peer. Did you with him for contrast-sake combine, That so your valour might more brightly shine? CXXII "-- But did not love for you my will restrain, By the eternal gods, I truly swear, He should endure such ignominious stain, As I am wont to make his fellows share: Him would I make of my long-nursed disdain Of cowardice perpetual record bear. To you, by whom he hither was conveyed, If now unpunished, let his thanks be paid."