XCIII Oh, with what labor did her shoulders bear That heavy burthen, and how slow she went! Her maid, to see that all the coasts were clear, Before her mistress, through the streets was sent; Love gave her courage, love exiled fear, Love to her tired limbs new vigor lent, Till she approached where the squire abode, There took they horse forthwith and forward rode.
XCIV Disguised they went, and by unused ways, And secret paths they strove unseen to gone, Until the watch they meet, which sore affrays Their soldiers new, when swords and weapons shone Yet none to stop their journey once essays, But place and passage yielded every one; For that bright armor, and that helmet bright, Were known and feared, in the darkest night.
XCV Erminia, though some deal she were dismayed, Yet went she on, and goodly countenance bore, She doubted lest her purpose were bewrayed, Her too much boldness she repented sore; But now the gate her fear and passage stayed, The heedless porter she beguiled therefore, “I am Clorinda, ope the gate,” she cried, “Where as the king commands, this late I ride.”
XCVI Her woman’s voice and terms all framed been, Most like the speeches of the princess stout, Who would have thought on horseback to have seen That feeble damsel armed round about? The porter her obeyed, and she, between Her trusty squire and maiden, sallied out, And through the secret dales they silent pass, Where danger least, least fear, least peril was.
XCVII But when these fair adventurers entered were Deep in a vale, Erminia stayed her haste, To be recalled she had no cause to fear, This foremost hazard had she trimly past; But dangers new, tofore unseen, appear, New perils she descried, new doubts she cast. The way that her desire to quiet brought, More difficult now seemed than erst she thought.
XCVIII Armed to ride among her angry foes, She now perceived it were great oversight, Yet would she not, she thought, herself disclose, Until she came before her chosen knight, To him she purposed to present the rose Pure, spotless, clean, untouched of mortal wight, She stayed therefore, and in her thoughts more wise, She called her squire, whom thus she gan advise.
XCIX “Thou must,” quoth she, “be mine ambassador, Be wise, be careful, true, and diligent, Go to the camp, present thyself before The Prince Tancredi, wounded in his tent; Tell him thy mistress comes to cure his sore, If he to grant her peace and rest consent Gainst whom fierce love such cruel war hath raised, So shall his wounds be cured, her torments eased.