THE ARGUMENT.

RINALDO refuses to taste the enchanted cup. His host relates to him the cause of his misfortunes. Tale of the Mantuan knight. Rinaldo takes his leave of the knight, and embarks in a vessel to sail down the Po. Description of the places by which he passes. His conversation with the pilot. Tale of Adonio and the Judge's wife. Rinaldo pursues part of his journey by land, and then goes by sea to Lipadusa, where he arrives after the battle between the six knights. The news of Brandimart's death brought to Flordelis. Her lamentation. Preparations for the funeral of Brandimart. Orlando's speech over the dead body. The funeral procession. Death of Flordelis. Orlando, Rinaldo, Sobrino, and Olivero, arrive at the island of the hermit, by whom Rogero had been received after the tempest. Olivero's foot is cured, and Sobrino's wounds are healed by the hermit, who gives the latter baptisın, Rogero is made known to the other knights.

O WRETCHED Avarice! O thou fiend accurs'd!
Hunger for gold! of Virtue's foes the worst!
Well may thy bane infect the sordid breast,
By every other human vice possest,
Since thou canst fetter in thy cruel chain,
And in thy dreadful gripe his soul detain,

Who, had he scap'd thy power, might justly claim,

For noblest gifts, the foremost rank in fame!
Behold one measures earth, and seas, and skies,

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And Nature's springs explores with searching eyes! 10
From known effects can trace each latent cause,
And prove the depth of God's eternal laws.
Poison'd by thee, whose venom can destroy
Each generous thought, he knows no future joy
But heaping wealth-for this he will forego
Peace, honour, safety, every good below.
One conquers armies, breaks the bulwarks down,
And wins from foes the well-defended town;

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In every peril of th' ensanguin'd field,

The first to rush on fate, the last to yield:
Thou every virtue from its base wilt shake,
And him till death thy wretched captive make.
By learning, some; by arts, some merit praise;
But touch'd by thee, each envy'd wreath decays.
How shall I speak of noble dames and fair,
Who, scornful of the generous lover's prayer,
Like pillar'd marble cold, obdurate stood

When youth, and grace, and constant service woo'd;
Lo! Avarice comes, with all-seducing power,

T' infect their heart, and one detested hour
Unloving, gives their youth and bloom of charms
A prey to some old dotard's wither'd arms.
Not without cause such mischiefs I bewail,
Nor think in this I wander from my tale;
Though what I speak relates not here so well
To what is past, as what remains to tell.

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Now to the Paladin we turn the strain,
Who seem'd prepar'd the magic bowl to drain:
I told you ere his lips the draught essay'd,
Awhile debating with his thoughts he stay'd:
Then to himself---Insensate is the mind
Who seeks for that it ne'er would wish to find.
My wife's a woman-all the sex is frail--
But let not hence my good opinion fail :

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Till now my faith has made me blest, and why
Should proof itself more certain bliss supply?
Much may I harm, but little mend my state,
And Heaven forbids too far to tempt our fate.
On me let praise or censure man bestow,
Ne'er will I seek what fits me not to know.

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