CXI.
God marred the rash emprise, and from on high
Sent down an angel, whose destroying sword
A hundred thousand of that chivalry
Slew, and to endless night condemned their lord.
Emerging, next, from hellish caverns, fly
These horrid harpies and assault his board;
Which still pollute or waste the royal meat,
Nor leave the monarch aught to drink or eat.
CXII.
And him had plunged in uttermost despair
One that to him erewhile had prophesied
‘The loathsome Harpies should his daily fare
‘Leave unpolluted only, when astride
‘Of winged horse, arriving through the air,
‘An armed cavalier should be descried.’
And, for impossible appears the thing,
Devoid of hope remains the mournful king.
CXIII.
Now that with wonderment his followers spy
The English cavalier so make his way,
O’er every wall, o’er every turret high,
Some swiftly to the king the news convey.
Who calls to mind that ancient prophecy,
And heedless of the staff, his wonted stay,
Through joy, with outstretched arms and tottering feet,
Comes forth, the flying cavalier to meet.
