Thither at speed she drives, and evermore

  In her wild panic utters fearful cries;

  And at the voice, upleaping on the shore,

  The Saracen her lovely visage spies.

  And, pale as is her cheek, and troubled sore,

  Arriving, quickly to the warrior's eyes

  (Though many days no news of her had shown)

  The beautiful Angelica is known.