XCII Him the good king entreated to declare His name, or, at the least, his visage shew; That he might grace him with such guerdon fair, As to his good intent was justly due. The stranger, after long and earnest prayer, Lifted to covering casque, and bared to view What in the ensuing canto will appear, If you are fain the history to hear. CANTO 6 ARGUMENT Ariodantes has, a worthy meed, With his loved bride, the fief of Albany. Meantime Rogero, on the flying steed, Arrives in false Alcina's empery: There from a myrtle-tree her every deed, A human myrtle hears, and treachery, And thence would go; but they who first withdrew Him from one strife, engage him in a new. I Wretched that evil man who lives in trust His secret sin is safe in his possession! Since, if nought else, the air, the very dust In which the crime is buried, makes confession, And oftentimes his guilt compels the unjust, Though sometime unarraigned in worldly session, To be his own accuser, and bewray, So God has willed, deeds hidden from the day. II The unhappy Polinesso hopes had nursed, Wholly his secret treason to conceal. By taking off Dalinda, who was versed In this, and only could the fact reveal; And adding thus a second to his first Offence, but hurried on the dread appeal, Which haply he had stunned, at least deferred; But he to self-destruction blindly spurred. III And forfeited estate, and life, and love Of friends at once, and honour, which was more. The cavalier unknown, I said above, Long of the king and court entreated sore, At length the covering helmet did remove, And showed a visage often seen before, The cherished face of Ariodantes true, Of late lamented weeping Scotland through; IV Ariodantes, whom with tearful eye His brother and Geneura wept as dead, And king, and people, and nobility: Such light his goodness and his valour shed. The pilgrim therefore might appear to lie In what he of the missing warrior said. Yet was it true that from a headland, he Had seen him plunge into the foaming sea. V But, as it oft befalls despairing wight, Who grisly Death desires till he appear; But loathes what he had sought, on nearer sight; So painful seems the cruel pass and drear. Thus, in the sea engulphed, the wretched knight, Repentant of his deed, was touched with fear; And, matchless both for spirit and for hand, Beat back the billows, and returned to land. VI And, now despising, as of folly bred, The fond desire which did to death impell, Thence, soaked and dripping wet, his way did tread, And halted at a hermit's humble cell: And housed within the holy father's shed, There secretly awhile designed to dwell; Till to his ears by rumour should be voiced, If his Geneura sorrowed or rejoiced.