“Gay plants, green herbage, rill of limpid vein,
       And, grateful with cool shade, thou gloomy cave,
     Where oft, by many wooed with fruitless pain,
       Beauteous Angelica, the child of grave
     King Galaphron, within my arms has lain;
       For the convenient harborage you gave,
     I, poor Medoro, can but in my lays,
     As recompense, forever sing your praise.

     “And any loving lord devoutly pray,
       Damsel and cavalier, and every one,
     Whom choice or fortune hither shall convey,
       Stranger or native,—­to this crystal run,
     Shade, caverned rock, and grass, and plants, to say,
       ’Benignant be to you the fostering sun
     And moon, and may the choir of nymphs provide,
     That never swain his flock may hither guide.’”

     In Arabic was writ the blessing said,
       Known to Orlando like the Latin tongue,
     Who, versed in many languages, best read
       Was in this speech; which oftentimes from wrong
     And injury and shame had saved his head,
       What time he roved the Saracens among. 
     But let him boast not of its former boot,
     O’erbalanced by the present bitter fruit.

     Three times, and four, and six, the lines impressed
       Upon the stone that wretch perused, in vain
     Seeking another sense than was expressed,
       And ever saw the thing more clear and plain;
     And all the while, within his troubled breast,
       He felt an icy hand his heart-core strain. 
     With mind and eyes close fastened on the block,
     At length he stood, not differing from the rock.

     Then well-nigh lost all feeling; so a prey
       Wholly was he to that o’ermastering woe. 
     This is a pang, believe the experienced say
       Of him who speaks, which does all griefs outgo. 
     His pride had from his forehead passed away,
       His chin had fallen upon his breast below;
     Nor found he, so grief-barred each natural vent,
     Moisture for tears, or utterance for lament.

     Stifled within, the impetuous sorrow stays,
       Which would too quickly issue; so to abide
     Water is seen, imprisoned in the vase,
       Whose neck is narrow and whose swell is wide;
     What time, when one turns up the inverted base,
       Toward the mouth, so hastes the hurrying tide,
     And in the strait encounters such a stop,
     It scarcely works a passage, drop by drop.

     He somewhat to himself returned, and thought
       How possibly the thing might be untrue: 
     That some one (so he hoped, desired, and sought
       To think) his lady would with shame pursue;
     Or with such weight of jealousy had wrought
       To whelm his reason, as should him undo;
     And that he, whosoe’er the thing had planned,
     Had counterfeited passing well her hand.