Canto

1     1|    fain would climb~And hourly wastes my sense, concede me skill~
2    16|       known!~One the fair city wastes with sword and fire,~Before
3    23| miracle does thou contrive,~It wastes not in the fire thou keep'
4    24|       s plate.~ ~ LXXI~He ever wastes his blood; his energies~
5    42| dragged aboard.~On him Orlando wastes no further pain,~But, sword
6    45|    entrance is there none)~And wastes his host, aye frustrate
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