Orlando.

"Well," cried the hero, "what news?"

"Bad news," said his cousin; "such as you would not hear of yesterday.
Marsilius is here in arms, and all the world has come with him."

The Paladins pressed round Orlando, and entreated him to sound his horn,
in token that he needed help. His only answer was, to mount his horse,
and ride up the mountain with Sansonetto.

As soon, however, as he cast forth his eyes and beheld what was round
about him, he turned in sorrow, and looked down into Roncesvalles, and
said, "O valley, miserable indeed! the blood that is shed in thee this
day will colour thy name for ever."

Many of the Paladins had ridden after him, and they again pressed him to
sound his horn, if only in pity to his own people. He said, "If Cæsar
and Alexander were here, Scipio and Hannibal, and Nebuchadnezzar with
all his flags, and Death stared me in the face with his knife in his
hand, never would I sound my horn for the baseness of fear."

Orlando's little camp were furious against the Saracens. They armed
themselves with the greatest impatience. There was nothing but lacing
of helmets and mounting of horses; and good Archbishop Turpin went
from rank to rank, exhorting and encouraging the warriors of Christ.
Accoutrements and habiliments were put on the wrong way; words and
deeds mixed in confusion; men running against one another out of very
absorption in themselves; all the place full of cries of "Arm! arm! the
enemy!" and the trumpets clanged over all against the mountain-echoes.