Chapter CCIII

Out of their skiffs the Arab Pagans spring,
And mounting mules and horses, march; what else
But this for them to do? When forward moves
The host in serried lines, the Emir calls
On Genalfin, his chosen friend: "To thee
Command of all my armies I confide."--
He said--and straight on his bay destrier mounts;
Four Dukes rode with him, and so fast he sped,
Ere long they entered into Sarraguce.
Before a marble terrace he dismounts,
Four Counts his stirrup held, and by the steps
Which led up to the palace he ascends.
To him runs Bramimunde:--"What cruel dole
Is mine, oh, woe! How shamefully," she cried,
"Have I now lost my lord!"--And at his feet
Prostrate she fell. The Emir raised her up,
And, grieving, both into the chamber went.
Aoi.