Canto

 1     2|       about the craggy mountain, press.~While I, upon the summit
 2     3|        troops his scanty numbers press,~There she (I know not if
 3     3|     pursued,~"I will not further press the painful tale.~Chew on
 4     4|        the other sex, who warmly press~To that soft end of love (
 5     7|       said~The pair, "No further press thy vengeance dread.~Sheathe,
 6     8|     forced the gate, and, in the press,~Slaughtered a mighty number
 7    10|           Lo! yonder, where they press~About a standard white,
 8    15|      Scarce can Astolpho put the press aside,~So close from every
 9    17|          might,~Into the martial press rides valiantly,~Then stops;
10    17|    Thrice of four times about to press the field~He seemed, and
11    18|         hardly can the place the press contain:~They cluster there
12    18|       arms and mob increase,~Who press him sore, nor let him part
13    20|   without,~Leap headlong; in the press these smothered die.~Broken
14    25|        helmets did their temples press,~His sword would cut as
15    31| displayed~Of being taken in that press, or slain;~And vouched if
16    38|         encompassing them round,~Press, harm, and heave each other
17    43|      serene and joyful face:~All press upon the knight; one grasps
18    45|      Rogero, on whom his sorrows press and prey,~Who loathes his
19    45|         And Aymon present in the press behold!~-- Bradamant drops
20    46|          one another, shake, and press.~ ~ CXXXII~His wounded thigh