It was afternoon when the horn sounded, and half an hour after it when
the emperor set out; and meantime Orlando had returned to the fight that
he might do his duty, however hopeless, as long as he could sit his
horse, and the Paladins were now reduced to four; and though the
Saracens suffered themselves to be mowed down like grass by them and
their little band, he found his end approaching for toil and fever,
and so at length he withdrew out of the fight, and rode all alone to a
fountain which he knew of, where he had before quenched his thirst.

His horse was wearier still than he, and no sooner had its master
alighted, than the beast, kneeling down as if to take leave, and to
say, "I have brought you to your place of rest," fell dead at his feet.
Orlando cast water on him from the fountain, not wishing to believe him
dead; but when he found it to no purpose, he grieved for him as if he
had been a human being, and addressed him by name in tears, and asked
forgiveness if ever he had done him wrong. They say, that the horse at
these words once more opened his eyes a little, and looked kindly at his
master, and so stirred never more.

They say also that Orlando then, summoning all his strength, smote a
rock near him with his beautiful sword Durlindana, thinking to shiver
the steel in pieces, and so prevent its falling into the hands of the
enemy; but though the rock split like a slate, and a deep fissure
remained ever after to astonish the eyes of pilgrims, the sword remained
unhurt.

"O strong Durlindana," cried he, "O noble and worthy sword, had I known
thee from the first, as I know thee now, never would I have been brought
to this pass."