Canto

  1     1|            her cheek, and troubled sore,~Arriving, quickly to the
  2     1|            and hole.~While angered sore at heart, and restless,
  3     1|           vainly, toiling long and sore.~Upon the Spanish knight
  4     1|   departing heavily,~Was many days sore vexed and grieved in sprite;~
  5     1|            his astounded ears,~And sore against his will the monarch
  6     1|       groans, yet not for mischief sore~Endured in wounded arm or
  7     2|           fair countenance through sore dismay,~And deemed that
  8     2|       Anglante's lord he burned so sore;~And lent such credit to
  9     3|        speech; while she~Knew not, sore marvelling at all that passed,~
 10     4|      attentive still, and watching sore,~Lest upon her the wizard
 11     4|           love of God!" (afflicted sore,~The old enchanter full
 12     4|          gentle knight~From danger sore and death, by love was swayed;~
 13     4|            some friendly stay,~Now sore bested, against a puissant
 14     4|            field.~ ~ LX~"The king, sore grieving for Geneura bright,~
 15     6|           king and court entreated sore,~At length the covering
 16     6|            name,~Whilom a paladin, sore feared in fight;~Cousin
 17     6|          for her love, for whom so sore he burned,~Would gladly
 18     6|       plies the crowd with warfare sore.~ ~ LXVI~One to the teeth,
 19     7|          and Agramant are troubled sore.~But not for him their story
 20     8|            ill,~Departs from Paris sore against his will.~ ~ ~ I~
 21     8|         made at him, and smote him sore;~The dog his left foot worried;
 22     8|            child.~ ~ LIII~This was sore torment to the sire, severe~
 23     8|             now there, with labour sore:~Oh! what tormenting grief,
 24     9|    oppressed with toil and wearied sore;~This stretched on earth,
 25     9|           and freshening, blows so sore,~The mariners are fain to
 26     9|        Bireno tell:~While he toils sore his squadron to array,~Proud
 27     9|          the naked archer's sport,~Sore smitten in the heart! --
 28    10|       marrow burned; when, weeping sore~The fate of her unhappy
 29    10|            ran, her visage tearing sore,~Presaging, and now certain
 30    10|          warrior thirst and labour sore,~Still toiling through that
 31    10|          flashing far and wide,~So sore offends the adversaries'
 32    10|      Leaving Alcina in her trouble sore:~I speak of valorous Rogero,
 33    10|         tail the troubled waves so sore~The monster beats, that
 34    11|       first ill addition grave and sore~Was to have lost the bird
 35    11|           torment worn, and travel sore,~The brute, exhausted, died,
 36    11|            a brutal insult wonders sore~The peer, who sees that
 37    11|        brand and spurs his courser sore,~And swiftly pricks toward
 38    12|            a captive damsel bears,~Sore grieving, and across the
 39    12|           his arm the damsel fair,~Sore pricking, enters at a gate
 40    12|           with thought and trouble sore,~Gradasso, Brandimart, and
 41    12|      entreating cries, and weeping sore,~"More than for life and
 42    12|           down returns with labour sore,~Yet not for that his longing
 43    12|    disappeared; and so that battle sore~Was witnessed 'twixt the
 44    12|        departure: toiling long and sore~He seeks the damsel there, '
 45    12|        within his breast,~For such sore disappointment, with the
 46    12|        high,~Which, fondly, he too sore desires to try.~ ~  LXXV~
 47    13|      impelled, through paths which sore offend~Her feet, till she,
 48    13|           her mission incomplete),~Sore trembling, faint, and pale,
 49    13|   themselves they tire~With labour sore, and frustrate of their
 50    13|         and, the lady dead,~To the sore mischief of all Italy,~Will
 51    13|     closely pressed, and labouring sore for breath,~That he appeared
 52    13|          and foot, in the campaign~Sore thinned, whose numbers were
 53    14|        passing-cruel spectacle and sore;~But which the wonderous
 54    14|     Rodomont exclaims, blaspheming sore,~Nor can contain his furious
 55    14|            emptied vessel, burning sore~With nitre, sulphur, pitch,
 56    14|       forced them forward to their sore alarm.~One paynim's head
 57    15|        became the visage, changing sore,~Turned up its eyes, and
 58    15|           up its eyes, and signals sore and dread~Of the last agony
 59    15|           too remote; and these so sore~Inflamed his troubled breast,
 60    16|            The action to the word, sore weeping, cried:~"Dear lord,
 61    16|       cheer me, -- left with fever sore infected,~And in the dread
 62    16|         thus preserved him from so sore a sweat.~ ~ XLIX~Rinaldo,
 63    16|         prest;~For all delay might sore his work impede.~This while
 64    16|           Bambirago dies;~And next sore wounded is Sir Soridane;~
 65    17|         for their pain and torment sore.~Of this ourselves have
 66    17|      disturbed with their excesses sore;~Since them with slaughter,
 67    17|          fled,~Who wept, afflicted sore, and beat their breast.~
 68    17|        wound~Homeward; and longing sore, till evening stayed.~At
 69    17|           be bitter and afflict me sore,~Such is our common instinct,
 70    17|        monster kept,~Till thither, sore alarmed, Lucina crept.~ ~
 71    17|            evening, her, lamenting sore,~Ever the unhappy lover
 72    17|      changed to smiles his anguish sore:~And if from other you hear
 73    17|         each assistant rises,~Whom sore the unexpected deed surprises.~ ~
 74    17|         and lay along the crupper, sore~Astound; yet rose at length,
 75    18|            by this game is angered sore,~Who little thins the gathering
 76    18|            increase,~Who press him sore, nor let him part in peace.~ ~
 77    18|     Dardinel opposed, and now with sore~Reproach, and now with prayer
 78    18|          brand~Had pressed Orlando sore in martial game,~And him
 79    18|      Syrian king, who was offended sore,~Raised war against her
 80    18|          to stay~A robber, who had sore offended me.~The truth of
 81    18|           blinding rain,~Afflicted sore the miserable crew.~While
 82    18|          one and all, and harassed sore.~ ~ CLXI~And even within
 83    18|       within their lines, in panic sore,~They by the Christian bands
 84    19|        marred by the delay~Of that sore weight upon his shoulders
 85    19|           dishonoured) grieved her sore.~Love, hearing this, such
 86    19|          lusty, while she suffered sore,~And, with new fever parched,
 87    19|         For having born so long so sore a burden!~ ~ XXXII~Oh! couldst
 88    19|       gentle falcon ever flew;~And sore the patron feared, to the
 89    19|        Chance or Error led.~ ~ LVI~Sore dangerous 'twas to doubt;
 90    19|          the passengers affrighted sore;~Save that Marphisa took
 91    19|     wounded every one she smote so sore,~She was secure, that never
 92    19|       needs must be, sir cavalier,~Sore wearied with such mighty
 93    19|        amid the observant crew:~So sore intent was every one to
 94    20|           his title she desired so sore.~"I am Marphisa," the virago
 95    20|           For never burden does so sore oppress~As woman, when her
 96    20|            For many days remain so sore dismayed,~That they seem
 97    20|            man's sex, which had so sore offended.~She willed each
 98    20|       seems shameful servitude and sore.~ ~ LXIII~"To know I wear
 99    20|         alone withheld form taking sore~And signal vengeance on
100    20|            sides death or wounding sore,~Was rained in fury on the
101    20|             discover Alery;~Who in sore haste receives the warriors
102    20|          journey weak, and wearied sore,~Appeared, but pined by
103    20|            those burning sighs and sore,~Those tears which had nigh
104    20|      appears more foul, as angered sore,~While rage and wrath her
105    20|         thought for ever. Troubled sore,~And mute long space upon
106    20|          Isabella, who had wounded sore~Zerbino's heart, was long
107    21|           odious crone,~He wounded sore, and writhing with the smart,~
108    21|           purchase, to his torment sore,~A Progne, a Medea; impious
109    21|         despiteous rage and hatred sore;~Nor with less wrath she
110    22|       preserved himself from peril sore;~And with the sound had
111    22|         the English baron, angered sore;~But he abased their pride
112    22|            that ill woman who him, sore bested,~Had changed from
113    22|            a rain~Of lovely tears, sore pitied her, and burned~With
114    22|         his danger hears,~In heart sore troubled at the story shown;~
115    22|         feminine array,~With peril sore of life. On turret high,~
116    22|         Their spears, and hurrying sore their coursers, go.~ ~ LXV~
117    22|      enchanted buckler, which, too sore~For human sufferance, dazed
118    22|        Child was fain~(And, certes sore bested) this to display;~
119    22|          opprest,~Before him, and, sore troubled, rode away.~He
120    23|          are tokens of her anguish sore.~In the east, at last, expected
121    23|     Doubtful he stands, but covets sore the prey;~Eyes and surveys
122    23|      Backed him, and left Hippalca sore bested;~Who, bathed in tears,
123    23|     Against Orlando in that combat sore.~Against the churl's right
124    23|      withdrew,~Where, with a heart sore trembling in his breast,~
125    23|         space she healed the angry sore.~But while she exercised
126    24|          faith maintain as, girded sore,~The leaguered fort to keep
127    24|    distance, thither her conveyed.~Sore weeping came the old woman,
128    24|           the valorous Paladin, so sore~He longed to know if that
129    24|       steel arbalest that's loaded sore,~By how much is the engine
130    24|        round him flew,~Saved, with sore mischief to himself, his
131    25|          XVIII~He, who was angered sore, as best he cou'd,~Sought
132    25|          man, to heal the damsel's sore,~Cut short to the mid-ear
133    25|          aid;~And found herself in sore perplexity.~` 'Tis better
134    26|            against the foe.~To the sore scandal of the Church and
135    26|         cursing him and execrating sore,~Have left at little distance;
136    26|          first defied, encountered sore,~Spurring with flowing rein,
137    26|         disordered and distrest so sore,~That with one stirrup's
138    26|          where in front~Rogero has sore wounded Rodomont.~ ~ CXXIII~
139    26|             And he Marphisa has as sore distrest:~But such good
140    27|      having borne too long, though sore offended,~That Rodomont
141    27|          first was dyed, and faded sore.~ ~ LII~In dress succinct
142    27|            what time they laboured sore,~Rogero vainly to a peace
143    27|          the Tartar lord;~At which sore wondering stand the paynim
144    27|            And Rodomont remains so sore astound,~He cannot raise
145    27|           king reproved the Sarzan sore,~Ruling that to appeal upon
146    27|           by him, to his discomfit sore,~And how he lost his courser,
147    27|      presence saw pourtrayed.~But, sore beside himself, the cavalier~
148    28|            for his journey, to his sore dismay,~Her husband deemed
149    28|         grief.~ ~ XXVI~"He for his sore an evil salve had found,~
150    28|            his cheeks are pined so sore --~Nor even remains (his
151    28|         Accompanied by a distemper sore:~So that he seemed not what
152    28|             in solitary mood, (for sore~Pastime and company, the
153    28|            had many days lamenting sore;~-- Because he had his evil
154    28|        with mickle pain~And labour sore, some money put away,~Which
155    28|       often by the soldier harried sore.~The beach upon one side
156    29|          monk's bold sermon to his sore displeasure,~And vainly
157    29|         means to make her wrong so sore~That cavalier, by cruel
158    29|           maddening bowl,~Lamented sore his error, sad at soul.~ ~
159    29|         pagan, by his arms impeded sore,~With heavier pain and trouble,
160    29| approaching knight, and threatened sore;~Bidding him stand aside,
161    29|           Angelica, who, trembling sore, is flown:~She shrieking
162    29|        bottom climbed, thus loaded sore,~And carried her three bow-shots'
163    29|          rude rocks, and suffering sore, lies dead.~Orlando nought
164    30|           like sick man am I, who, sore bested,~Suffering with patience
165    30|           plight;~Who prompts what sore repents me: Heaven above~
166    30|             ever westward hurrying sore,~Until he came where on
167    30|        strive in vain,~With labour sore, this tangle to undo;~Nor
168    30|            parforce must prove how sore~The danger and the dint
169    30|         not corporal pain or fever sore,~It was Desire that on her
170    31|     himself astounded on the mead;~Sore handled, and unhorsed by
171    31|            another time, as needed sore.~When the sun, garlanded
172    31|              erst at feud and with sore hate possest,~Through Truffaldino -- (
173    31|         proved so deeply irks them sore.~ ~ LV~Guido succeeds; no
174    31|            she saw Orlando, raging sore,~Do fearful deeds, and her
175    31|       perilous bridge encountering sore,~Exchange, on either side,
176    31|         the bridge looks his lady, sore bested,~And tear employs,
177    31|         forgets no, how Rogero lay~Sore wounded, and as yet in evil
178    31|            more than all the rest,~Sore doubted the event which
179    32|       brought which irk the damsel sore,~That fair Marphisa caused
180    32|          monarch spares:~Meanwhile sore taxes and repeated cess,~
181    32|           in combat dead.~And how, sore wounded by the Tartar's
182    32|         loved much, and was withal~Sore jealous, was determined
183    32|        deem it were foul wrong and sore,~If so such beauty I should
184    32|           little need,~Who wearied sore with that day's labour are.~
185    33|          such ill, that, hungering sore for food,~They and their
186    33|            strung by rage and fury sore,~Into the moat which girt
187    33|            turn,~And good Baiardo, sore bested, discern.~ ~ LXXXIV~
188    33|           Rinaldo too: and contest sore~'Twixt him and Malagigi
189    33|            unskilled in fence, and sore bested,~Baiardo swiftly
190    33|     Rinaldo, after labour vain and sore~To await him at the fount
191    33|           in his caverned lair,~So sore moreover by his fright opprest,~
192    33|            courser, he mistakes me sore,~That thinks the prize by
193    33|       Navarre,~-- They who beheld, sore wondering at the sight --~
194    33|           thou new~Messiah, if too sore I have offended,~For mercy,
195    34|          downward wend.~Me but too sore the sable fumes molest,~
196    34|      encounters pale and trembling sore:~'Twould seem a vanquished
197    34|           renowned Alcides vext so sore,~In Erymanth, Nemaea, Lerna,
198    34|          long in vain,~He sickened sore and sank beneath the blow.~
199    34|     through long fast, must hunger sore,~First brace your strength
200    34|       seemingly unwearied, hurried sore,~His restless way retracing
201    35|    glorious life should be,~Longed sore to know. "This," (said the
202    35|           not this should cause me sore despite,~And if my speech
203    36|       strange accident, in sprite,~Sore vexed, this while remained
204    36|      damsel, fair Dordona's boast,~Sore vexed and troubled, that
205    36|          will to guide,~I sickened sore, and of my sorrow died.~ ~
206    37|         way,~Albeit to fare a-foot sore irksome be,~To appeal to
207    37|         that other burned Cylander sore;~Who brought erewhile to
208    37|         she desired those nuptials sore;~Nor only showed an unreluctant
209    37|            And on one object is so sore intent,~He sees but that,
210    37|         woman haul,~(Whom stricken sore in years her visage shows,)~
211    38|             albeit 'tis with yours sore laden, still~Daily for you
212    38|            for this would hold you sore ingrate;~Yet there's a remedy
213    38|          paynim foe:~For, harassed sore in body and in mind,~Those
214    38|         evermore did write,~As one sore injured by that cavalier.~
215    38|            combat with such travel sore,~The casque that (as in
216    39|            meet~King Agramant, and sore annoys his fleet.~ ~ ~ I~
217    39|          upon the costly prey,~Had sore lamented and had grieved
218    39|             Brandimart girt Roland sore~With sinewy arms about his
219    40|          fires discerned,~And such sore slaughter, under different
220    40|         shends,~Reduced to sad and sore extremity;~Them steel destroys,
221    40|         fight contend;~Deeming too sore his honour 'twoud offend.~ ~
222    40|            love for his liege-lady sore,~But moved by honour and
223    41|        lady, grieved and trembling sore.~Meanwhile upon their quest
224    41|           Gradasso to ill pass and sore~Should bring Sir Brandimart,
225    41|           by that stroke astounded sore,~Has not the power the frightened
226    42|       swordless, through his mail,~Sore wounded in more places than
227    42|           had fallen, reversed and sore aggrieved,~And had by now
228    42|            has him taken, bleeding sore;~Thither, where he is saved
229    42|       strange and wondrous, marvel sore~In friendly Malagigi's bosom
230    42|      passion bred, such heart-ache sore,~He never in his life so
231    42|         this, with so long posting sore bested --~As that to see
232    43|              XLI~"Shame stings her sore, but yet in sorer wise~Wrath
233    43|            the cause, that dame so sore~I hated, I would not behold
234    43|         that prest the cavalier so sore,~Made him (well-spoken was
235    43|           whose ill handling was I sore bested.~But for thine aid,
236    43|           He finally returned; but sore afraid~Through what the
237    43|            what to do: the outrage sore~Avenged he has not, nor
238    43|           a mote is now a beam; so sore~It prest him; on his heart
239    43|      Olivier,~Dangerously hurt and sore, sate woe-begone,~Somedeal
240    43|            in calm and ease?~Right sore must be my trespass, since
241    43|            Sorrowing and afflicted sore in mind~For their fourth
242    44|       return those barons urged so sore,~Parforce they parted from
243    44|           Rogero, bearing this and sore afraid~That he shall lose
244    44|         repair;~When Leo prest him sore, and with strong hand~The
245    44|       hardly had escaped his hand, sore prest~And scared as never
246    45|      albeit it appeared a hardship sore~And thing well-nigh impossible,
247    45|          intent exprest,~Than with sore grief Rogero's heart was
248    45|            the gentle youth's, who sore~Hammers and blunts the faulchion'
249    45|            small hackney, hurrying sore, he went~Where Leo him awaited
250    46|          courtesy, well tried~In a sore need, my fixt resolve did
251    46|           with much ado~And labour sore the gentle courser scaled.~
252    46|           And after, how by sorrow sore bested,~In that to leave
253    46|         long labour and 'mid vigil sore,~With her own fingers all
254    46|         Child, unheeding aught:~So sore astounded is Rogero's brain;~
255    46|   disdainful warrior spied.~She in sore doubt her champion's fall
256    46|      breast would wound;~And twice sore anguish felt the monarch,
257    46|           Rogero; whom he smote so sore,~The stripling never was
258    46|        Child was smit, and left so sore astound,~He, tripping still
259    46|         thigh and gaping flank had sore~Weakened the vigour of the
260    46|       flank shoved his breast, and sore~Strained him with all his