Classic Poem

Orlando comes upon a set of monks in the desert who are pestered by three giants, . . . who are of course infidels or Mahometans. The giants are in the habit of throwing great stones at the Abbey, so that the monks cannot go out for provisions. Orlando . . . comes to the Abbey door and knocks for some time in vain. At length he is let in, and the abbot apologizes by stating the blockade in which they are kept. The holy father then proceeds . . .
" The eremites of old, if just and true
And righteous in their works, had blessed cheer;
God's servants in those days no hunger knew,
Nor lived on those same locusts all the year;
Doubt not they had the rain of manna too:
But as for us, our pretty dishes here
Are stones, which Passamont and Alabaster
Rain down upon our heads, by way of taster.

And yet those two are nothing to the third:
He tears me up whole trees, whole horrid oaken
Trunks by the roots: he does, upon my word —
Our heads infallibly will all be broken."
While thus, as if he could be overheard,
The monk stood talking low, there came a token
So close upon the horse, it seemed all over
With the poor devil, who leaped under cover.

" For God's sake come in doors, Sir!" cried the priest,
" The manna's falling!" " 'Tis indeed," said t'other;
" They seem to grudge his feed to the poor beast,
They'd cure his restiveness. Well, such another
Stunner as this, proves no weak arm at least,
No son, dear abbot, of a feeble mother."
" The Lord!" exclaimed the monk, " look down upon us!
Some day, I think, they'll cast the mountain on us."