"I peril but the single life of one Against safety of the countless rest."
-- "Go then in peace," (the other said). "my son, And to thy succour, form among the blest, May God dispatch the Archangel Michael down."
-- And him, with that, the simple hermit blest.
Astolpho pricks along Nile's rosy strand, More in his horn confiding than his brand.