LXII "But let me face to face, by Heaven, espy Those who would take my horse and arms away; For we have yet beyond that hill to hie, And little time can here afford to stay." "Behold the man," that ancient made reply, "Clear of the bridge!" -- Nor did in this missay; For thence a warrior pricked, who, powdered o'er With snowy flowers, a crimson surcoat wore. LXIII Bradamant for long time with earnest prayer, For courtesy the good Rogero prest, To let her from his sell the warrior bear, Who with white flowers had purfled o'er his vest. But moved him not; and to Rogero's share Must leave, and do herself, what liked him best. He willed the whole emprize his own should be, And Bradamant should stand apart to see. LXIV The Child demanded of that elder, who Was he that from the gate first took his way, And he, " 'Tis Sansonet; of crimson hue, I know his surcoat, with white flowers gay." Without a word exchanged, the warlike two Divide the ground, and short is the delay. For they against each other, levelling low Their spears, and hurrying sore their coursers, go. LXV This while had issued from the fortress near, With many footmen girt, Sir Pinnabel, All ready to despoil the cavalier, Who in the warlike joust should void is sell. At one another spurred in bold career The knights, with their huge lances rested well. Up to the points nigh equal was each stick, Of stubborn native oak, and two palms thick. LXVI Sansonet, of such staves, above five pair Had made them sever from the living stock, In neighboring wood, and bade his followers bear Two of them hither, destined for that shock: Such truncheons to withstand, well needed-were A shield and cuirass of the diamond rock. One he had made them give his foe, and one He kept himself, the present course to run. LXVII With these which might the solid anvil bore, (So well their ends were pointed) there and here, Each aiming at the shield his foeman wore, The puissant warriors shocked in mid career. That of Rogero, wrought with magic lore, By fiends, had little from the stroke to fear: I of the buckler speak Atlantes made, Of whose rare virtues I whilere have said. LXVIII I have already said, the enchanted light Strikes with such force on the beholder's eyes, That, at the shield's discovery, every wight Is blinded, or on earth half lifeless lies. Wherefore, well mantled with a veil, the knight Keeps it, unless some passing need surprise: Impassive is the shield as well believed, Since it no damage in the shock received.