XCIX.
The warder cries to that Islandic dame,
Who of her sentence has a shrewd suspicion,
“O lady, let it be no cause of blame,
“That we observe our usage and condition;
“To seek some other rest must be thine aim,
“Since, by our universal band’s admission,
“Though unadorned that martial maid be seen,
“Thou canst not match her charms and lovely mien.”
C.
As in a moment’s time a cloud obscure
Steams from the bottom of some marshy dale,
Which the sun’s visage, late so bright and pure,
Mantles all over with its dingy veil;
So that poor damsel, sentenced to endure,
Without, the pelting shower and blustering gale,
Is seen to change her cheer, and is no more
The fair and mirthful maid she was before.
CI.
The maid turns pale, and all her colour flies,
Who dreads so stern a sentence to obey:
But generous Bradamant, in prudent guise,
Who could not bear to see her turned away,
Cried to that baron, “Partial and unwise
“Your judgment seems, as well all judgments may,
“Wherein the losing party has not room
“To plead, before the judge pronounces doom.
