As soon as the redoubted Rodomont Knew in the dwarf the courier of his dame, He all his rage extinguished, cleared his front, And felt his courage brighten into flame.
All else he deems the courier may recount, Save that a wight had wrought him scaith and shame, And cries (encountering him with chearful brow)
"How fares our lady? wither sent art thou?"