Nor did Orlando grant his sword repose
Till every living man had fled that day.
And now he hesitates, although he knows
The region well, about the choice of way;
But, whether to the right or left he goes,
His thoughts from where he is are far away.
He fears Angelica, no matter where
He looks for her, is anywhere but there.

Enquiring as he went, he chose a route
Sometimes through woods, and sometimes through a plain;
And, as he traveled, wandering in thought,
He wandered from the path and all in vain
Meandered till, arriving at the foot
Of a tall cliff, he saw, as plain as plain,
Pulsating through an opening in the rock
A light, which drew him up at once to look.

As in a wood of lowly juniper,
Or in the stubble of an open field,
A hunter will pursue a frightened hare,
And of the paths which intersect the weald
Will make uncertain choice, now here, now there,
Searching whatever bush the prey might yield,
So did Orlando search, in hope to find
The damsel who possessed him, heart and mind.

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