CXXVI.
After them spurs in haste the valiant peer:
And on the winged courser forth is flown,
Leaving beneath him, in his swift career,
The royal castle and the crowded town;
The bugle ever pealing, far and near.
The harpies fly towards the torrid zone;
Nor light until they reach that loftiest mountain
Where springs, if anywhere, Nile’s secret fountain.
CXXVII.
Almost at that aerial mountain’s feet,
Deep under earth, extends a gloomy cell.
The surest pass for him, as they repeat,
That would at any time descend to hell.
Hither the predatory troop retreat,
As a safe refuge from the deafening yell.
As far, and farther than Cocytus’ shore
Descending, till that horn is heard no more.
CXXVIII.
At that dark, hellish inlet, which a way
Opens to him who would abandon light,
The terrifying bugle ceased to bray;
—The courser furled his wings and stopt his flight.
But, ere Astolpho further I convey,
—Not to depart from my accustomed rite—
Since on all sides the paper overflows,
I shall conclude my canto and repose.
