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Flordelice viewed the furious man in front;
And cried to Brandimart, "Behold the count! "

XLV
At the same time, withal, Astolpho bold
That this was good Orlando plainly knew,
By signs, whereof those ancient saints had told,
In the earthly paradise, as tokens true.
None of those others, who the knight behold,
The courteous baron in the madman view;
That from long self-neglect, while wild he ran,
Had in his visage more of beast than man.

XLVI
With breast and heart transfixed with pity, cried
Valiant Astolpho -- bathed with many a tear --
Turning to Danish Dudon, at this side,
And afterwards to valiant Olivier;
"Behold Orlando! " Him awhile they eyed,
Straining their eyes and lids; then knew the peer;
And, seeing him in such a piteous plight,
Were filled with grief and wonder at the sight.

XLVII
So grieve and so lament the greater part
Of those good warriors, that their eyes o'erflow.
" `Tis time" (Astolpho cried) "to find some art
To heal him, not indulge in useless woe";
And from his courser sprang: bold Brandimart,
Olivier, Sansonet and Dudon so
All leap to ground, and all together make
At Roland, whom the warriors fain would take.

XLVIII
Seeing the circle round about him grow,
Levels his club that furious paladin,
And makes fierce Dudon feel (who -- couched below
His buckler -- on the madman would break in)
How grievous is that staff's descending blow;
And but that Olivier, Orlando's kin,
Broke in some sort its force, that stake accurst
Had shield and helmet, head and body burst.

XLIX
It only burst the shield, and in such thunder
Broke on the casque, that Dudon prest the shore:
With that, Sir Sansonet cut clean asunder
The sapling, shorn of two cloth-yards and more,
So vigorous was that warrior's stroke, while under
His bosom, Brandimart girt Roland sore
With sinewy arms about his body flung;
And to the champion's legs Astolpho clung.

L
Orlando shook himself, and England's knight,
Ten paces off, reversed upon the ground;
Yet loosed not Brandimart, who with more might
And better hold had clasped the madman round.
To Olivier, too forward in that fight,
He dealt so furious and so fell a wound,
With his clenched fist, that pale the marquis fell;
And purple streams from eyes and nostrils well;

LI
And save his morion had been more than good,
Bold Olivier had breathed his last, who lies,
So battered with his fall, it seemed he wou'd
Bequeath his parting soul to paradise.
Astolpho and Dudon, that again upstood
(Albeit swoln were Dudon's face and eyes)
And Sansonet, who plied so well his sword,
All made together at Anglantes' lord.

LII
Dudon Orlando from behind embraced,
And with his foot the furious peer would throw:
Astolpho and others seize his arms; but waste
Their strength in all attempts to hold the foe.
He who has seen a bull, by mastiffs chased
That gore his bleeding ears, in fury lowe,
Dragging the dogs that bait him there and here,
Yet from their tusks unable to get clear;

LIII
Let him imagine, so Orlando drew
Astolpho and those banded knights along.
Meanwhile upstarted Oliviero, who
By that fell fistycuff on earth was flung;
And, seeing they could ill by Roland do
That sought by good Astolpho and his throng,
He meditates, and compasses, a way
The frantic paladin on earth to lay.
LIV
He many a hawser made them thither bring,
And running knots in them he quickly tied;
Which on the count's waist, arms, and legs, they fling;
And then, among themselves, the ends divide,
Conveyed to this or that amid the ring,
Compassing Roland upon every side.
The warriors thus Orlando flung parforce,
As farrier throws the struggling ox or horse.

LV
As soon as down, they all upon him are,
And hands and feet more tightly they constrain:
He shakes himself, and plunges here and there;
But all his efforts for relief are vain.
Astolpho bade them hence the prisoner bear;
For he would heal (he said) the warrior's brain.
Shouldered by sturdy Dudon is the load,
And on the beach's furthest brink bestowed.

LVI
Seven times Astolpho makes them wash the knight;
And seven times plunged beneath the brine he goes.
So that they cleanse away the scurf and blight,
Which to his stupid limbs and visage grows.
This done, with herbs, for that occasion dight,
They stop his mouth, wherewith he puffs and blows.
For, save his nostrils, would Astolpho leave
No passage whence the count might air receive.

LVII
Valiant Astolpho had prepared the vase,
Wherein Orlando's senses were contained,
And to his nostrils in such mode conveys,
That, drawing-in his breath, the county drained
The mystic cup withal. Oh wondrous case!
The unsettled mind its ancient seat regained;
And, in its glorious reasonings, yet more clear
And lucid waxed his wisdom than whilere.

LVIII
As one, that seems in troubled sleep to see
Abominable shapes, a horrid crew;
Monsters which are not, and which cannot be;
Or seems some strange, unlawful thing to do,
Yet marvels at himself, from slumber free.
When his recovered senses play him true;
So good Orlando, when he is made sound,
Remains yet full of wonder, and astound.

LIX
Aldabelle's brother, Monodantes' son,
And him that on his brain such cure had wrought,
He wondering marked, but word he spake to none;
And when and how he was brought thither, thought.
He turned his restless eyes now up now down,
Nor where he was withal, imagined aught,
Marvelling why he there was naked cast,
And wherefore tethered, neck and heels, so fast.