XXVII.
Rinaldo never executed thing
Less willingly, prevented in his quest
Of that fair visage he was following,
Whose charms his heart had ravished from his breast.
Yet, in obedience to the Christian king,
Prepared himself to do the royal hest.
To Calais the good envoy wends with speed,
And the same day embarks himself and steed.
XXVIII.
And there, in scorn of cautious pilot’s skill
(Such his impatience to regain his home),
Launched on the doubtful sea, which boded ill,
And rolled its heavy billows, white with foam.
The wind, enraged that he opposed his will,
Stirred up the waves; and, ’mid the gathering gloom,
So the loud storm and tempest’s fury grew,
That topmast-high the flashing waters flew.
XXIX.
The watchful mariners, in wary sort,
Haul down their mainsail[4], and attempt to wear;
And would put back in panic to the port,
Whence, in ill hour, they loosed with little care.
—“Not so,” exclaims the wind, and stops them short,
So poor a penance will not pay the dare.”
And when they fain would veer, with fiercer roar
Pelts back their reeling prow and blusters more.
