LXIII.
She raised her eyes at last, and saw the sun
Had turned his back on Bocchus’ towers and wall[4];
Then, like a cormorant, his journey done,
Into his nurse’s lap beheld him fall,
Beyond Marocco; and for her to run
To tree, for shelter from the rising squall,
Had been a foolish thought; for now ’gan blow
A blustering wind, which threatened rain or snow.
LXIV.
To better speed fair Bradamant aroused
Her courser, yet but little way did ride,
When with his flock, which on the champaign browsed,
Leaving the fields, a shepherd she espied.
To him where, well or ill, she might be housed,
—With many instances the maid applied—
‘For never house could such ill shelter yield,
‘But that in rain ’twere worse to lodge afield.’
LXV.
To her the shepherd said, “I know of none
“Whereto I could direct you, near at hand.
“At least six leagues are distant all, but one,
“Named Tristram’s tower, throughout the neighbouring land.
“But not to all men is the door undone;
“For it behoves that they, with lance in hand,
“Achieve their footing first and then defend,
“Who to be lodged within its walls pretend.
