Rogero overhand, not in the rest Carries his lance, and beats, with downright blow, The monstrous orc. What this resembled best, But a huge, writhing mass, I do not know;
Which wore no form of animal exprest, Save in the head, with eyes and teeth of sow.
His forehead, 'twixt the eyes, Rogero smites, But as on steel or rock the weapon lights.
