Book

 1    IV|        crags, on Alpine cliffs aloft:~Hard is that heart which
 2     V|       Argantes bore his plumes aloft,~Praising his fortunes for
 3    VI|     cunning;~He lift his sword aloft, for ire nigh wood,~And
 4    VI|     sustain awhile this shield aloft,~Though I be tender, feeble,
 5   VII|      the air casts up her head aloft~And gathereth seed so from
 6    IX|      busked him bold to fight, aloft he cast~His blade, prepared
 7     X|        night cast up her shade aloft~And all earth's colors strange
 8     X|       sword~His hand held high aloft in threatening guise;~Dumb
 9    XI|       first advanced his crest aloft,~And boldly gan a strong
10  XIII| Pyramid-wise, lift up his tops aloft;~In whose smooth bark upon
11  XIII|       wind his sword heaved up aloft,~And through the forest
12    XV|      wood like a garland grows aloft,~Sweet caves within, cool
13    XV|     the brims the silken grass aloft~Proffered them seats, sweet,
14    XX|       the quarrel fly in skies aloft,~Whether the same of Ireland
15    XX|      high advance~Their swords aloft, both struck at once, both