LXXXIV.
They good Bayardo by a monster view,
—A bird, and bigger than that courser—prest.
Above three yards in length appeared to view
The monster’s teak; a bat in all the rest.
Equipt with feathers, black as ink in hue,
And piercing talons was the winged pest;
An eye of fire it had, a cruel look,
And, like ship-sails, two spreading pinions shook.
LXXXV.
Perhaps it was a bird; but when or where
Another bird resembling this was seen
I know not, I, nor have I any where,
Except in Turpin, heard that such has been.
Hence that it was a fiend, to upper air
Evoked from depths of nether hell I ween;
Which Malagigi raised by magic sleight,
That so he might disturb the champions’ fight.
LXXXVI.
So deemed Rinaldo too: and contest sore
’Twixt him and Malagigi hence begun;
But he would not confess the charge; nay swore.
Even by the light which lights the glorious sun,
That he might clear him of the blame he bore,
He had not that which was imputed done.
Whether a fiend or fowl, the pest descends,
And good Bayardo with his talons rends.
