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.