LXXXVII.
Quickly the steed, possessed of mickle might,
Breaks loose, and, in his fury and despair,
Against the monster strives with kick and bite;
But swiftly he retires and soars in air:
He thence returning, prompt to wheel and smite,
Circles and beats the courser, here and there.
Wholly unskilled in fence, and sore bested,
Bayardo swiftly from the monster fled.
LXXXVIII.
Bayardo to the neighbouring forest flies,
Seeking the closest shade and thickest spray;
Above the feathered monster flaps, with eyes
Intent to mark where widest is the way.
But that good horse the greenwood threads, and lies
At last within a grot, concealed from day.
When the winged beast has lost Bayardo’s traces,
He soars aloft, and other quarry chases.
LXXXIX.
Rinaldo and Gradasso, who descried
Bayardo’s flight, the conqueror’s destined meed,
The battle to suspend, on either side,
Till they regained the goodly horse, agreed,
Saved from that fowl which chased him, far and wide;
Conditioning whichever found the steed,
With him anew should to that fountain wend.
Beside whose brim their battle they should end.
