Of mighty matters, sculptured in a font, Does Malagigi to his comrades tell:
On them come Mandricardo and Rodomont, And forthwith battle follows fierce and fell.
Discord goes scattering quarrel and affront Amid the crew: but whither, forced by spell, Fair Doralice upon her palfrey speeds, The Tartar king, and Sarzan, turn their steeds.
In former ages courteous ladies were, Who worshipt virtue, and not worldly gear.
Women in this degenerate age are rare, To whom aught else but sordid gain is dear;
But they who real goodness make their care, Nor with the avaricious many steer, In this frail life are worthy to be blest, -- Held glorious and immortal when at rest.
