For a month's space beyond those twenty days

  This hope affords fair Bradamant content:

  Hence sorrow not on her so heavy weighs

  As it would else her harassed soul have shent.

  She, one day that along the road she strays,

  By which she oft to meet Rogero went,

  Hears tidings, that of Hope — last comfort left —

  (Like every other good) her breast bereft.