XXIII When the hyppogryph above the island hung, And had approached so nigh that landscape fair, That, if his rider from the saddle sprung, He might the leap with little danger dare, Rogero lit the grass and flowers among, But held him, lest he should remount the air: And to a myrtle, nigh the rolling brine, Made fast, between a bay-tree and a pine. XXIV And there, close-by where rose a bubbling fount, Begirt the fertile palm and cedar-tree, He drops the shield, the helmet from his front Uplifts, and, either hand from gauntlet free, Now turning to the beach, and now the mount, Catches the gales which blow from hill or sea, And, with a joyous murmur, lightly stir The lofty top of beech, or feathery fir: XXV And, now, to bathe his burning lips he strains; Now dabbles in the crystal wave, to chase The scorching heat which rages in his veins, Caught from the heavy corslet's burning case. Nor is it marvel if the burden pains; No ramble his in square or market-place! Three thousand miles, without repose, he went, And still, at speed, in ponderous armour pent. XXVI Meanwhile the courser by the myrtle's side, Whom he left stabled in the cool retreat, Started at something in the wood descried, Scared by I know not what; and in his heat So made the myrtle shake where he was tied, He brought a shower of leaves about his feet; He made the myrtle shake and foliage fall, But, struggling, could not loose himself withal. XXVII As in a stick to feed the chimney rent, Where scanty pith ill fills the narrow sheath, The vapour, in its little channel pent, Struggles, tormented by the fire beneath; And, till its prisoned fury find a vent, Is heard to hiss and bubble, sing and seethe: So the offended myrtle inly pined, Groaned, murmured, and at last unclosed its rind: XXVIII And hence a clear, intelligible speech Thus issued, with a melancholy sound; "If, as thy cheer and gentle presence teach, Thou courteous art and good, his reign unbound, Release me from this monster, I beseech: Griefs of my own inflict sufficient wound: Nor need I, compassed with such ills about, Other new pain to plague me from without." XXIX At the first sound, Rogero turns to see Whence came the voice, and, in unused surprise, Stands, when he finds it issues from the tree; And swiftly to remove the courser hies. Then, with a face suffused with crimson, he In answer to the groaning myrtle, cries; "Pardon! and, whatsoe'er thou art, be good, Spirit of man, or goddess of the wood! XXX "Unweeting of the wonderous prodigy Of spirit, pent beneath the knotty rind, To your fair leaf and living body I Have done this scathe and outrage undesigned. But not the less for that, to me reply, What art thou, who, in rugged case confined, Dost live and speak? And so may never hail From angry heaven your gentle boughs assail!