69 Their number, 'mounting to the ranger's guess, It seemed one gross with all the spaces closed. 70 The van fierce Oswald led, where Paradine And manly Dargonet, both of his blood, Outshined the noon, and their minds' stock within Promised to make that outward glory good. 71 The next, bold, but unlucky Hubert led, 72 Most to himself his valour fatal was, Whose glories oft to others dreadful were; 73 And though his valour seldom did succeed, His speech was such as could in storms persuade; Sweet as the hopes on which starved lovers feed, Breathed in the whispers of a yielding maid. 74 The bloody Borgio did conduct the rear, Whom sullen Vasco heedfully attends; To all but to themselves they cruel were, And to themselves chiefly by mischief friends. 75 War, the world's art, nature to them became; 76 Cities, wise statesmen's folds for civil sheep, They sacked, as painful shearers of the wise; 77 Hugo amongst these troops spied many more, 78 Such the bold leaders of these lancers were, Which of the Brescian veterans did consist; And claim some rank in Fame's eternal list. 79 Back to his Duke the dexterous Hugo flies, scars. 80 Lord Arnold cried, 'Vain is the bugle-horn, S1 Those beasts are hunted hard that hard can fly,' · 'But we, not used to flight, know best to die; And those who know to die, know how to kill. 82 Victors through number never gained applause; If they exceed our count in arms and men, It is not just to think that odds, because 1 The King, who never time nor power misspent 2 If to thy fame, brave youth, I could add wings, 3 For she is yours, as your adoption free; And in that gift my remnant life I give; 4 And richer than that crown, which shall be thine When life's long progress I have gone with fame, Take all her love; which scarce forbears to shine, And own thee, through her virgin curtain, shame.' 5 Thus spake the king; and Rhodalind appeared Through published love, with so much bashfulness, As young kings show, when by surprise o'erheard, Moaning to favourite ears a deep distress. 6 For love is a distress, and would be hid Like monarchs' griefs, by which they bashful grow; And in that shame beholders they forbid; Since those blush most, who most their blushes show. 7 And Gondibert, with dying eyes, did grieve At her vailed love, a wound he cannot heal, As great minds mourn, who cannot then relieve The virtuous, when through shame they want conceal. 8 And now cold Birtha's rosy looks decay; Who in fear's frost had like her beauty died, 9 Victorious King! abroad your subjects are, 10 A king you are o'er subjects so, as wise And noble husbands seem o'er loyal wives; And brag to strangers of their happy lives. 11 'To foes a winter storm; whilst your friends bow, 12 Since this is you, and Rhodalind, the light 13 Since she so precious is, I shall appear 14 Forgive me that I am not what I seem; 15 Far in ambition's fever am I gone! Like raging flame aspiring is my love; Does round the world tow'rds change of objects move. 16 Nor is this now through virtuous shame confessed; 17 When she will grace the bridal dignity, It will be soon to all young monarchs known; Who then by posting through the world will try Who first can at her feet present his crown. 18 Then will Verona seem the inn of kings, 19 Amongst this ruling race she choice may take 20 A prince who more enlarges power than lands, |