VI.
He speedily his winged horse forsook;
(Him to a sapling near at hand he ties)
The cavern entered next; but first he took
His horn, whereon the knight in all relies.
Not far has he advanced before a smoke,
Obscure and foul, offends his nose and eyes.
Ranker than pitch and sulphur is the stench,
Yet not thereat does good Astolpho blench.
VII.
But as he more descends into that lair,
So much he finds the smoke and vapour worse;
And it appears he can no further fare;
Nay, backward must retrace his way parforce.
Lo! something (what he knows not) he in air
Espies, that seems in motion, like a corse.
Upon whose wasted form long time had beat
The winter’s rain and summer’s scorching heat.
VIII.
In that dim cavern was so little light,
—Yea, well-nigh might be said that light was none—
Nought sees or comprehends the English knight
What wavers so, above that vapour dun:
For surer proof, a stroke or two would smite
With his good faulchion Otho’s valiant son[1]:
Then deemed that duke it was a spirit, whom
He seemed to strike amid the misty gloom.
- ↑ Astolpho.
