"As fire, whereon dry, heated wood is strown, Roused by a little puff, at once ascends, So burns Rogero's wrath, to fury blown, By the first word with which that king offends.
"Thou thinkest," he exclaims, "to bear me down, Because his knight as well with me contends:
But learn that I can win in fighting field From him the horse, from thee good Hector's shield.