117.
Formerly called another Carthage, or another Rome; it now lies
buried in its own ruins.
124.
God forbid!
125.
Blessed Jesus!
126.
It is that which vexes me.
142.
My son laments, that he has not killed more than eighty birds
in one day, whereas, I should think myself the happiest man in
the world, if I could kill forty.
188.
The knight of Aglant now has couch’d his spear,
Where closely prest the men and arms appear:
First one, and then another, helpless dies;
Thro’ six at once the lance impetuous flies,
And in the seventh inflicts so deep a wound,
That prone he tumbles lifeless to the ground.