In the 1st Canto of Mad Orlando: 

  With flowery thorns, vermilion roses near
  Her, she upon a lovely bush doth meet,
  That mirrored doth in the bright waves appear,
  Shut out by lofty oaks from the sun’s heat.

  Amidst the thickest shades there is a clear
  Space in the middle for a cool retreat;
  So mixed the leaves and boughs are, through them none
  Can see; they are impervious to the sun.

In the 6th Canto the Hippogriff carries Roger into a country: 

  Nor could he, had he searched the whole world through,
  Than this a more delightful country see.... 
  Soft meads, clear streams, and banks affording shade,
  Hillocks and plains, by culture fertile made. 
  Fair thickets of the cedar, palm and no
  Less pleasant myrtle, of the laurel sweet,
  Of orange trees, where fruit and flow’rs did grow,
  And which in various forms, all lovely, meet
  With their thick shades against the fervid glow
  Of summer days, afforded a retreat;
  And nightingales, devoid of fear, among
  Those branches fluttered, pouring forth their song. 
  Amid the lilies white and roses red,
  Ever more freshened by the tepid air,
  The stag was seen, with his proud lofty head,
  And feeling safe, the rabbit and the hare.... 
  Sapphires and rubies, topazes, pearls, gold,
  Hyacinths, chrysolites, and diamonds were
  Like the night flow’rs, which did their leaves unfold
  There on those glad plains, painted by the air
  So green the grass, that if we did behold
  It here, no emeralds could therewith compare;
  As fair the foliage of the trees was, which
  With fruit and flow’r eternally were rich. 
  Amid the boughs, sing yellow, white, and blue,
  And red and green small feathered creatures gay;
  The crystals less limpidity of hue
  Than the still lakes or murmuring brooks display. 
  A gentle breeze, that seemeth still to woo
  And never change from its accustomed way,
  Made all around so tremulous the air
  That no annoyance was the day’s hot glare. 
          (Canto 34.)

Descriptions of time are short: 

  From the hard face of earth the sun’s bright hue
  Not yet its veil obscure and dark did rend;
  The Lycaonian offspring scarcely through
  The furrows of the sky his plough did send. 
          (Canto 80.)

Comparisons, especially about the beauty of women, are very artistic, recalling Sappho and Catullus: 

  The tender maid is like unto the rose
  In the fair garden on its native thorn;
  Whilst it alone and safely doth repose,
  Nor flock nor shepherd crops it; dewy morn,
  Water and earth, the breeze that sweetly blows,
  Are gracious to it; lovely dames adorn
  With it their bosoms and their beautiful
  Brows; it enamoured youths delight to cull. 
          (Canto 1.)