Book

 1     I|     thunders promise rain.~ ~ LXXII~Some shirts of mail, some
 2    II| breaking, wound your hand.~ ~ LXXII~"The Greekish faith is like
 3   III|     fit to build the same.~ ~ LXXII~Up with the lark the sorrowful
 4    IV|    pity, pitiless in thee.~ ~ LXXII~"So both thy goodness, and
 5     V|    bridle rein them short.~ ~ LXXII~He that would satisfy each
 6    VI|      great a load to bear?~ ~ LXXII~"Or deem'st thou it a praise
 7   VII|  honor, conquest, victory.~ ~ LXXII~Then from his side he took
 8  VIII|    arm," cried every man.~ ~  LXXII~ Mongst them Alecto strowed
 9    IX|   both were framed to die.~ ~ LXXII~Yet wished they oft, and
10     X|  before our late disgrace.~ ~ LXXII~"I and all these the hardy
11    XI|     yet not forth it went.~ ~ LXXII~His labor vain, his art
12   XII|     her himself had slain.~ ~ LXXII~Their guide far off the
13  XIII|      children yet are we."~ ~ LXXII~These prayers just, from
14   XIV|      mount, or conquer it.~ ~ LXXII~"Beside the stream, yparted
15   XVI|  wrath gave place at last.~ ~ LXXII~"I will not hence," quoth
16  XVII|     praise did so partake.~ ~ LXXII~With him died Alforisio,
17 XVIII|      the walls down throw.~ ~ LXXII~Yet still Rinaldo unresolved
18   XIX| grieved in secret thought.~ ~ LXXII~To Tisipherne the damsel
19    XX|      equal foil they have.~ ~ LXXII~Godfredo took the time and