LXX Zerbino, here and there, seeks every way By which to wound, nor yet his end obtains; For, while he smites upon that armour gay, Not even a feeble dint the coat retains. On the other hand, the Tartar in the fray Such vantage o'er the Scottish prince obtains, Him he has wounded in seven parts or eight, And reft his shield and half his helmet's plate. LXXI He ever wastes his blood; his energies Fail, though he feels it not, as 't would appear; Unharmed, the vigorous heart new force supplies To the weak body of the cavalier. His lady, during this, whose crimson dyes Where chased by dread, to Doralice drew near, And for the love of Heaven, the damsel wooed To stop that evil and disastrous feud. LXXII Doralice, who as courteous was as fair, And ill-assured withal, how it would end, Willingly granted Isabella's prayer, And straight to truce and peace disposed her friend, As well Zerbino, by the other's care, Was brought his vengeful anger to suspend; And, wending where she willed, the Scottish lord Left unachieved the adventure of the sword. LXXIII Fair Flordelice, who ill maintained descries The goodly sword of the unhappy count, In secret garden, and so laments the prize Foregone, she weeps for rage, and smite her front: She would move Brandimart to this emprize; And, should she find him, and the fact recount, Weens, for short season will the Tartar foe Exulting in the ravished faulchion go. LXXIV Seeking him morn and evening, but in vain, Flordelice after Brandimart did fare; And widely wandered from him, who again Already had to Paris made repair. So far the damsel pricked by hill and plain, She reached the passage of a river, where She saw the wretched count; but what befel The Scottish prince, Zerbino, let me tell. LXXV For to leave Durindana such misdeed To him appeared, it past all other woes; Though he could hardly sit upon his steed, Though mighty loss of life-blood, which yet flows. Now, when his anger and his heat secede, After short interval, his anguish grows; His anguish grows, with such impetuous pains, He feels that life is ebbing from his veins. LXXVI For weakness can the prince no further hie, And so beside a fount is forced to stay: Him to assist the pitying maid would try, But knows not what to do, not what to say. For lack of comfort she beholds him die; Since every city is too far away, Where in this need she could resort to leech, Whose succour she might purchase or beseech. LXXVII She, blaming Fortune, and the cruel sky, Can only utter fond complaints and vain. "Why sank I not in ocean, (was her cry,) When first I reared my sail upon the main?" Zerbino, who on her his languid eye Had fixt, as she bemoaned her, felt more pain Than that enduring and strong anguish bred, Through which the suffering youth was well-nigh dead.