When Bradamant the Gascon's story heard,

  That lady suffered such tormenting pain,

  Such cruel woe her inmost bosom stirred,

  From falling she preserved herself with pain.

  She turned her courser round, without a word,

  Inflamed with jealousy and fierce disdain:

  From her all hope the wretched damsel spurns,

  And to her chamber breathing wrath returns.