CLXXXVI The silvery splendor glistened yet more clear, There where renowned Almontes' son lay dead. Faithful Medoro mourned his master dear, Who well agnized the quartering white and red, With visage bathed in many a bitter tear (For he a rill from either eyelid shed), And piteous act and moan, that might have whist The winds, his melancholy plaint to list;

CLXXXVII But with a voice supprest: not that he aught Regards if any one the noise should hear, Because he of his life takes any thought; Of which loathed burden he would fain be clear; But, lest his being heard should bring to nought The pious purpose which has brought them here. The youths the king upon their shoulders stowed; And so between themselves divide the load.

CLXXXVIII Hurrying their steps, they hastened, as they might, Under the cherished burden they conveyed; And now approaching was the lord of light, To sweep from heaven the stars, from earth the shade. When good Zerbino, he, whose valiant sprite Was ne'er in time of need by sleep down-weighed, From chasing Moors all night, his homeward way Was taking to the camp at dawn of day.

CLXXXIX He has with him some horsemen in his train, That from afar the two companions spy. Expecting thus some spoil or prize to gain, They, every one, towards that quarter hie. "Brother, behoves us," cried young Cloridane, "To cast away the load we bear, and fly: For 'twere a foolish thought (might well be said) To lose two living men, to save one dead:

CXC And dropt the burden, weening his Medore Had done the same by it, upon his side: But that poor boy, who loved his master more, His shoulders to the weight, alone, applied; Cloridan hurrying with all haste before, Deeming him close behind him or beside; Who, did he know his danger, him to save A thousand deaths, instead of one, would brave.

CXCI Those horsemen, with intent to make the two Yield themselves prisoners to their band, or die, Some here, some there, disperse the champaign through, And every pass and outlet occupy. The captain, little distant from his crew, Is keener than the rest the chase to ply; And, when he sees them hurrying in such guise, Is certain that the twain are enemies.

CXCII Of old an ancient forest clothed that lair, Of trees and underwood a tangled maze; Of salvage beasts alone the wild repair, And, like a labyrinth, full of narrow ways: Here from the boughs such shelter hope the pair As may conceal them well from hostile gaze. But him I shall expect who loves the rhyme, To listen to my tale some other time.

CANTO 19

ARGUMENT Medoro, by Angelica's quaint hand, Is healed, and weds, and bears her to Catay. At length Marphisa, with the chosen band, After long suffering, makes Laiazzi's bay. Guido the savage, bondsman in the land, Which impious women rule with civil sway, With Marphisa strives in single fight, And lodges her and hers at full of night.

I By whom he is beloved can no one know, Who on the top of Fortune's wheel is seated; Since he, by true and faithless friends, with show Of equal faith, in glad estate is greeted. But, should felicity be changed to woe, The flattering multitude is turned and fleeted! While he who loves his master from his heart, Even after death performs his faithful part.

II Were the heart seen as is the outward cheer, He who at court is held in sovereign grace, And he that to his lord is little dear, With parts reversed, would fill each other's place; The humble man the greater would appear, And he, now first, be hindmost in the race. But be Medoro's faithful story said, The youth who loved his lord, alive or dead.

III The closest path, amid the forest gray, To save himself, pursued the youth forlorn; But all his schemes were marred by the delay Of that sore weight upon his shoulders born. The place he knew not, and mistook the way, And hid himself again in sheltering thorn. Secure and distant was his mate, that through The greenwood shade with lighter shoulders flew.

IV So far was Cloridan advanced before, He heard the boy no longer in the wind; But when he marked the absence of Medore, It seemed as if his heart was left behind. "Ah! how was I so negligent," (the Moor Exclaimed) "so far beside myself, and blind, That I, Medoro, should without thee fare, Nor know when I deserted thee or where?"

V So saying, in the wood he disappears, Plunging into the maze with hurried pace; And thither, whence he lately issued, steers, And, desperate, of death returns in trace. Cries and the tread of steeds this while he hears, And word and the tread of foemen, as in chase: Lastly Medoro by his voice is known, Disarmed, on foot, 'mid many horse, alone.

VI A hundred horsemen who the youth surround, Zerbino leads, and bids his followers seize The stripling: like a top, the boy turns round And keeps him as he can: among the trees, Behind oak, elm, beech, ash, he takes his ground, Nor from the cherished load his shoulders frees. Wearied, at length, the burden he bestowed Upon the grass, and stalked about his load.

VII As in her rocky cavern the she-bear, With whom close warfare Alpine hunters wage, Uncertain hangs about her shaggy care, And growls in mingled sound of love and rage, To unsheath her claws, and blood her tushes bare, Would natural hate and wrath the beast engage; Love softens her, and bids from strife retire, And for her offspring watch, amid her ire.

VIII Cloridan who to aid him knows not how, And with Medoro willingly would die, But who would not for death this being forego, Until more foes than one should lifeless lie, Ambushed, his sharpest arrow to his bow Fits, and directs it with so true an eye, The feathered weapon bores a Scotchman's brain, And lays the warrior dead upon the plain.

IX Together, all the others of the band Turned thither, whence was shot the murderous reed; Meanwhile he launched another from his stand, That a new foe might by the weapon bleed, Whom (while he made of this and that demand, And loudly questioned who had done the deed) The arrow reached — transfixed the wretch's throat, And cut his question short in middle note.

X Zerbino, captain of those horse, no more Can at the piteous sight his wrath refrain; In furious heat, he springs upon Medore, Exclaiming, "Thou of this shalt bear the pain." One hand he in his locks of golden ore Enwreaths, and drags him to himself amain; But, as his eyes that beauteous face survey, Takes pity on the boy, and does not slay.

XI To him the stripling turns, with suppliant cry, And, "By thy God, sir knight," exclaims, "I pray, Be not so passing cruel, nor deny That I in earth my honoured king may lay: No other grace I supplicate, nor I This for the love of life, believe me, say. So much, no longer, space of life I crave. As may suffice to give my lord a grave.

XII "And if you needs must feed the beast and bird, Like Theban Creon, let their worst be done Upon these limbs; so that by me interred In earth be those of good Almontes' son." Medoro thus his suit, with grace, preferred, And words — to move a mountain, and so won Upon Zerbino's mood, to kindness turned, With love and pity he all over burned.

XIII This while, a churlish horseman of the band, Who little deference for his lord confest, His lance uplifting, wounded overhand The unhappy suppliant in his dainty breast. Zerbino, who the cruel action scanned, Was deeply stirred, the rather that, opprest And livid with the blow the churl had sped, Medoro fell as he was wholly dead.

XIV So grieved Zerbino, with such wrath was stung, "Not unavenged shalt thou remain," he cries; Then full of evil will in fury sprung Upon the author of the foul emprize. But he his vantage marks, and, from among The warriors, in a moment slips and flies. Cloridan who beholds the deed, at sight Of young Medoro's fall, springs forth to fight;

XV And casts away his bow, and, 'mid the band Of foemen, whirls his falchion, in desire Rather of death, than hoping that his hand May snatch a vengeance equal to his ire. Amid so many blades, he views the sand Tinged with his blood, and ready to expire, And feeling he the sword no more can guide, Lets himself drop by his Medoro's side.

XVI The Scots pursue their chief, who pricks before, Through the deep wood, inspired by high disdain, When he has left the one and the other Moor, This dead, that scarce alive, upon the plain. There for a mighty space lay young Medore, Spouting his life-blood from so large a vein, He would have perished, but that thither made A stranger, as it chanced, who lent him aid.

XVII By chance arrived a damsel at the place, Who was (though mean and rustic was her wear) Of royal presence and of beauteous face, And lofty manners, sagely debonair: Her have I left unsung so long a space, That you will hardly recognise the fair. Angelica, in her (if known not) scan, The lofty daughter of Catay's great khan.

XVIII Angelica, when she had won again The ring Brunello had from her conveyed, So waxed in stubborn pride and haught disdain, She seemed to scorn this ample world, and strayed Alone, and held as cheap each living swain, Although, amid the best, by Fame arrayed: Nor brooked she to remember a galant In Count Orlando or king Sacripant;

XIX And above every other deed repented, That good Rinaldo she had loved of yore; And that to look so low she had consented, (As by such choice dishonoured) grieved her sore. Love, hearing this, such arrogance resented, And would the damsel's pride endure no more. Where young Medoro lay he took his stand, And waited her, with bow and shaft in hand.

XX When fair Angelica the stripling spies, Nigh hurt to death in that disastrous fray, Who for his king, that there unsheltered lies, More sad than for his own misfortune lay, She feels new pity in her bosom rise, Which makes its entry in unwonted way. Touched was her haughty heart, once hard and curst, And more when he his piteous tale rehearsed.

XXI And calling back to memory her art, For she in Ind had learned chirurgery, (Since it appears such studies in that part Worthy of praise and fame are held to be, And, as an heir-loom, sires to sons impart, With little aid of books, the mystery) Disposed herself to work with simples' juice, Till she in him should healthier life produce;

XXII And recollects a herb had caught her sight In passing hither, on a pleasant plain, What (whether dittany or pancy hight) I know not; fraught with virtue to restrain The crimson blood forth-welling, and of might To sheathe each perilous and piercing pain, She found it near, and having pulled the weed, Returned to seek Medoro on the mead.

XXIII Returning, she upon a swain did light, Who was on horseback passing through the wood. Strayed from the lowing herd, the rustic wight A heifer, missing for two days, pursued. Him she with her conducted, where the might Of the faint youth was ebbing with his blood: Which had the ground about so deeply dyed, Life was nigh wasted with the gushing tide.

XXIV Angelica alights upon the ground, And he her rustic comrade, at her hest. She hastened 'twixt two stones the herb to pound, Then took it, and the healing juice exprest: With this did she foment the stripling's wound, And, even to the hips, his waist and breast; And (with such virtue was the salve endued) It stanched his life-blood, and his strength renewed;

XXV And into him infused such force again, That he could mount the horse the swain conveyed; But good Medoro would not leave the plain Till he in earth had seen his master laid. He, with the monarch, buried Cloridane, And after followed whither pleased the maid, Who was to stay with him, by pity led, Beneath the courteous shepherd's humble shed.

XXVI Nor would the damsel quit the lowly pile (So she esteemed the youth) till he was sound; Such pity first she felt, when him erewhile She saw outstretched and bleeding on the ground. Touched by his mien and manners next, a file She felt corrode her heart with secret wound; She felt corrode her heart, and with desire, By little and by little warmed, took fire.

XXVII The shepherd dwelt, between two mountains hoar, In goodly cabin, in the greenwood shade, With wife and children; and, short time before, The brent-new shed had builded in the glade. Here of his griesly wound the youthful Moor Was briefly healed by the Catayan maid; But who in briefer space, a sorer smart Than young Medoro's, suffered at her heart.

XXVIII A wound far wider and which deeper lies, Now in her heart she feels, from viewless bow; Which from the boy's fair hair and beauteous eyes Had the winged archer dealt: a sudden glow She feels, and still the flames increasing rise; Yet less she heeds her own than other's woe: — Heeds not herself, and only to content The author of her cruel ill is bent.

XXIX Her ill but festered and increased the more The stripling's wounds were seen to heal and close: The youth grew lusty, while she suffered sore, And, with new fever parched, now burnt, now froze: From day to day in beauty waxed Medore: She miserably wasted; like the snow's Unseasonable flake, which melts away Exposed, in sunny place, to scorching ray.

XXX She, if of vain desire will not die, Must help herself, nor yet delay the aid. And she in truth, her will to satisfy, Deemed 'twas no time to wait till she was prayed. And next of shame renouncing every tye, With tongue as bold as eyes, petition made, And begged him, haply an unwitting foe, To sheathe the suffering of that cruel blow.

XXXI O Count Orlando, O king of Circassy, Say what your valour has availed to you! Say what your honour boots, what goodly fee Remunerates ye both, for service true! Sirs, show me but a single courtesy, With which she ever graced ye, — old or new, — As some poor recompense, desert, or guerdon, For having born so long so sore a burden!

XXXII Oh! couldst thou yet again to life return, How hard would this appear, O Agricane! In that she whilom thee was wont to spurn, With sharp repulse and insolent disdain. O Ferrau, O ye thousand more, forlorn, Unsung, who wrought a thousand feats in vain For this ungrateful fair, what pain 'twould be Could you within his arms the damsel see!

XXXIII To pluck, as yet untouched, the virgin rose, Angelica permits the young Medore. Was none so blest as in that garden's close Yet to have set his venturous foot before. They holy ceremonies interpose, Somedeal to veil — to gild — the matter o'er. Young Love was bridesman there the tie to bless, And for brideswoman stood the shepherdess.

XXXIV In the low shed, with all solemnities, The couple made their wedding as they might; And there above a month, in tranquil guise, The happy lovers rested in delight. Save for the youth the lady has no eyes, Nor with his looks can satisfy her sight. Nor yet of hanging on his neck can tire, Of feel she can content her fond desire.

XXXV The beauteous boy is with her night and day, Does she untent herself, or keep the shed. Morning or eve they to some meadow stray, Now to this bank, and to that other led: Haply, in cavern harboured, at mid-day, Grateful as that to which Aeneas fled With Dido, when the tempest raged above, The faithful witness to their secret love.

XXXVI Amid such pleasures, where, with tree o'ergrown, Ran stream, or bubbling fountain's wave did spin, On bark or rock, if yielding were the stone, The knife was straight at work or ready pin. And there, without, in thousand places lone, And in as many places graved, within, MEDORO and ANGELICA were traced, In divers cyphers quaintly interlaced.

XXXVII When she believed they had prolonged their stay More than enow, the damsel made design In India to revisit her Catay, And with its crown Medoro's head entwine. She had upon her wrist an armlet, gay With costly gems, in witness and in sign Of love to her by Count Orlando borne, And which the damsel for long time had worn.

XXXVIII On Ziliantes, hid beneath the wave, This Morgue bestowed; and from captivity The youth (restored to Monodantes grave, His ancient sire, through Roland's chivalry) To Roland in return the bracelet gave: Roland, a lover, deigned the gorgeous fee To wear, with the intention to convey The present to his queen, of whom I say.

XXXIX No love which to the paladin she bears, But that it costly is and wrought with care, This to Angelica so much endears, That never more esteemed was matter rare: This she was suffered, in THE ISLE OF TEARS, I know not by what privilege, to wear, When, naked, to the whale exposed for food By that inhospitable race and rude.

XL She, not possessing wherewithal to pay The kindly couple's hospitality, Served by them in their cabin, from the day She there was lodged, with such fidelity, Unfastened from her arm the bracelet gay, And bade them keep it for her memory. Departing hence the lovers climb the side Of hills, which fertile France from Spain divide.

XLI Within Valencia or Barcelona's town The couple thought a little to remain, Until some goodly ship should make her boun To loose for the Levant: as so the twain Journey, beneath Gerona, — coming down Those mountains — they behold the subject main; And keeping on their left the beach below, By beaten track to Barcelona go.

XLII But, ere they there arrive, a crazed wight They find, extended on the outer shore; Who is bedaubed like swine, in filthy plight, And smeared with mud, face, reins, and bosom o'er' He comes upon them, as a dog in spite Swiftly assails the stranger at the door; And is about to do the lovers scorn, But to the bold Marphisa I return —

XLIII Marphisa, Astolpho, Gryphon, Aquilant. Of these and of the others will I tell: Who, death before their eyes, the vext Levant Traverse, and ill resist the boisterous swell. While aye more passing proud and arrogant, Waxes in rage and threat the tempest fell. And now three days the angry gale has blown, Nor signal of abatement yet has shown.

XLIV Waves lifted by the waxing tempest start Castle and flooring, and, if yet there be Aught standing left in any other part, 'Tis cut away and cast into the sea. Here, pricking out their course upon the chart, One by a lantern does his ministry, Upon a sea-chest propt; another wight Is busied in the well by torch's light.

XLV This one beneath the poop, beneath the prow That other, stands to watch the ebbing sand; And (each half-glass run out) returns to know What way the ship has made, and towards what land. Thence all to speak their different thoughts, below, To midships make resort, with chart in hand; There where the mariners, assembled all, Are met in council, at the master's call.

XLVI One says: "Abreast of Limisso are we Among the shoals" — and by his reckoning, nigh The rocks of Tripoli and bark must be, Where shipwrecked, for the most part, vessels lie. Another: "We are lost on Sataly, Whose coast makes many patrons weep and sigh." According to their judgment, all suggest Their treasons, each with equal dread opprest.

XLVII More spitefully the wind on the third day Blows, and the sea more yeasty billows rears: The fore-mast by the first is borne away, The rudder by the last, with him who steers. Better than steel that man will bide the assay, — Of marble breast — who has not now his fears. Marphisa, erst so confident 'mid harms, Denied not but that day she felt alarms.

XLVIII A pilgrimage is vowed to Sinai, To Cyprus and Gallicia, and to Rome, Ettino, and other place of sanctity, If such is named, and to the holy tomb. Meanwhile, above the sea and near the sky, The bark is tost, with shattered plank and boom; From which the crew had cut, in her distress, The mizenmast, to make her labour less.

XLIX They bale and chest and all their heavy lumber Cast overboard, from poop, and prow, and side; And every birth and cabin disencumber Of merchandize, to feed the greedy tide. Water to water others of the number Rendered, by whom the spouting pumps were plied. This in the hold bestirs himself, where'er Planks opened by the beating sea appear.

L They in this trouble, in this woe, remained For full four days; and helpless was their plight, And a full victory the sea had gained, If yet a little had endured its spite: But them with hope of clearer sky sustained The wished appearance of St. Elmo's light, Which (every spar was gone) descending glowed Upon a boat, which in the prow was stowed.

LI When, flaming, they the beauteous light surveyed, All those aboard kneeled down in humble guise, And Heaven for peace and for smooth water prayed, With trembling voices and with watery eyes. Nor longer waxed the storm, which had dismayed, Till then enduring in such cruel wise. North-wester or cross-wind no longer reigns; But tyrant of the sea the south remains.

LII This on the sea remained so passing strong, And from its sable mouth so fiercely blew, And bore with it so swift a stream and strong Of the vext waters, that it hurried through Their tumbling waves the shattered bark along, Faster than gentle falcon ever flew; And sore the patron feared, to the world's brink It would transport his bark, or wreck or sink.

LIII For this the master finds a remedy, Who bids them cast out spars, and veer away A line which holds this float, and as they flee, So, by two-thirds, their furious course delay. This counsel boots, and more the augury From him whose lights upon the gunwale play. This saves the vessel, haply else undone; And makes her through the sea securely run.

LIV They, driven on Syria, in Laiazzo's bay A mighty city rise; so nigh at hand, That they can from the vessel's deck survey Two castles, which the port within command. Pale turns the patron's visage with dismay, When he perceives what is the neighbouring land, Who will not to the port for shelter hie, Nor yet can keep the open sea, nor fly.

LV They cannot fly, nor yet can keep the sea; For mast and yards are gone, and by the stroke Of the huge billows beating frequently, Loosened is plank, and beam and timber broke: And certain death to make the port would be, Or to be doomed to a perpetual yoke. For each is made a slave, or sentenced dead, Thither by evil Chance or Error led.

LVI Sore dangerous 'twas to doubt; lest hostile band Should sally from the puissant town in sight, With armed barks, and upon theirs lay hand, In evil case for sea, and worse for fight. What time the patron knows not what command To give, of him inquires the English knight What kept his mind suspended in that sort, And why at first he had not made the port.

LVII To him relates the patron how a crew Of murderous women tenanted that shore, Which, by their ancient law, enslave or slew All those whom Fortune to this kingdom bore; And that he only could such for eschew That in the lists ten champions overbore, And having this achieved, the following night In bed should with ten damsels take delight.

LVIII And if he brings to end the former feat, But afterwards the next unfinished leaves, They kill him, and as slaves his following treat, Condemned to delve their land or keep their beeves. — If for the first and second labour meet — He liberty for all his band achieves, Not for himself; who there must stay and wed Ten wives by him selected for his bed.

LIX So strange a custom of the neighbouring strand Without a laugh Astolpho cannot hear; Sansonet and Marphisa, near at hand, Next Aquilant, and he, his brother dear, Arrive: to them the patron who from land Aye keeps aloof, explains the cause of fear, And cries: "I liefer in the sea would choke, Than here of servitude endure the yoke."

LX The sailors by the patron's rede abide, And all the passengers affrighted sore; Save that Marphisa took the other side With hers, who deemed that safer was the shore Than sea, which raging round them, far and wide, Than a hundred thousand swords dismayed them more. Them little this, or other place alarms, So that they have but power to wield their arms.

LXI The warriors are impatient all to land: But boldest is of these the English peer; Knowing how soon his horn will clear the strand, When the scared foe its pealing sound shall hear. To put into the neighbouring port this band Desires, and are at strife with those who fear. And they who are the strongest, in such sort Compel the patron, that he makes the port.

LXII Already when their bark was first espied At sea, within the cruel city's view, They had observed a galley, well supplied With practised mariners and numerous crew (While them uncertain counsels did divide) Make for their wretched ship, the billows through: Her lofty prow to their short stern and low These lash, and into port the vessel tow.

LXIII They thitherward were worked with warp and oar, Rather than with assistance of the sail; Since to lay starboard course or larboard more, No means were left them by the cruel gale. Again their rugged rhind the champions wore, Girding the faithful falchion with the mail, And with unceasing hope of comfort fed Master and mariners opprest with dread.

LXIV Like a half-moon, projected from the beach, More than four miles about, the city's port; Six hundred paces deep; and crowning each Horn of the circling haven, was a fort; On every side, secure from storm or breach, (Save only from the south, a safe resort) In guise of theatre the town extended About it, and a hill behind ascended.

LXV No sooner there the harboured ship was seen (The news had spread already through the land) Than thitherward, with martial garb and mien, Six thousand women trooped, with bow in hand; And, to remove all hope of flight, between One castle and the other, drew a band; And with strong chains and barks the port enclosed; Which ever, for that use, they kept disposed.

LXVI A dame, as the Cumean sybil gray, Or Hector's ancient mother of renown, Made call the patron out, and bade him say, If they their lives were willing to lay down; Or were content beneath the yoke to stay, According to the custom of the town, — One of two evils they must choose, — be slain, Or captives, one and all, must there remain.

LXVII " 'Tis true, if one so bold and of such might Be found amid your crew," (the matron said), "That he ten men of ours engage in fight, And can in cruel battle lay them dead, And, after, with ten women, in one night, Suffice to play the husband's part in bed, He shall remain our sovereign, and shall sway The land, and you may homeward wend your way.

LXVIII "And at your choice to stay shall also be, Whether a part or all, but with this pact, That he who here would stay and would be free, Can with ten dames the husband's part enact. But if your chosen warrior fall or flee, By his ten enemies at once attacked, Or for the second function have not breath, To slavery you we doom, and him to death."

LXIX At what she deemed the cavaliers would start, The beldam found them bold; for to compete With those they should engage, and play their part The champions hoped alike in either feat. Nor failed renowned Marphisa's valiant heart, Albeit for the second dance unmeet; Secure, where nature had her aid denied, The want should with the falchion be supplied.

LXX The patron is commanded their reply Resolved in common council to unfold; The dames at pleasure may their prowess try, And shall in lists and bed allow them bold. The lashings from the vessels they untie, The skipper heaves the warp, and bids lay hold, And lowers the bridge; o'er which, in warlike weed, The expectant cavaliers their coursers lead.

LXXI These through the middle of the city go, And see the damsels, as they forward fare, Ride through the streets, succinct, in haughty show, And arm, in guise of warriors, in the square. Nor to gird sword, nor fasten spur below, Is man allowed, nor any arm to wear; Excepting, as I said, the ten; to follow The ancient usage which those women hallow.

LXXII All others of the manly sex they seat, To ply the distaff, broider, card and sow, In female gown descending to the feet, Which renders them effeminate and slow; Some chained, another labour to complete, Are tasked, to keep their cattle, or to plough. Few are the males; and scarce the warriors ken, Amid a thousand dames, a hundred men.

LXXIII The knights determining by lot to try Who in their common cause on listed ground, Should slay the ten, with whom they were to vie, And in the other field ten others wound, Designed to pass the bold Marphisa by, Believing she unfitting would be found; And would be, in the second joust at eve, Ill-qualified the victory to achieve.

LXXIV But with the others she, the martial maid, Will run her risque; and 'tis her destiny. "I will lay down this life," the damsel said, "Rather than you lay down your liberty. But this" — with that she pointed to the blade Which she had girt — "is your security, I will all tangles in such manner loose, As Alexander did the Gordian noose.

LXXV "I will not henceforth stranger shall complain, So long as the world lasts, of this repair." So said the maid, nor could the friendly train Take from her what had fallen to her share. Then, — either every thing to lose, or gain Their liberty, — to her they leave the care. With stubborn plate and mail all over steeled, Ready for cruel fight, she takes the field.

LXXVI High up the spacious city is place, With steps, which serve as seats in rising rows; Which for nought else is used, except the chase, Tourney, or wrestling match, or such-like shows. Four gates of solid bronze the rabble flows In troubled tide; and to Marphisa bold, That she may enter, afterwards is told.

LXXVII On pieballed horse Marphisa entered, — spread Were circles dappling all about his hair, — Of a bold countenance and little head, And beauteous points, and haughty gait and air. Out of a thousand coursers which he fed, Him, as the best, and biggest, and most rare, King Norandino chose, and, decked with brave And costly trappings, to Marphisa gave.

LXXVIII Through the south gate, from the mid-day, the plain Marphisa entered, nor expected long, Before she heard approaching trumpet-strain Peal through the lists in shrilling notes and strong; And, looking next towards the northern wain, Saw her ten opposites appear: among These, as their leader, pricked a cavalier, Excelling all the rest in goodly cheer.

LXXIX On a large courser came the leading foe, Which was, excepting the near foot behind And forehead, darker than was ever crow: His foot and forehead with some white were signed. The horseman did his horse's colours show In his own dress; and hence might be divined, He, as the mournful hue o'erpowered the clear, Was less inclined to smile, than mournful tear.

LXXX At once their spears in rest nine warriors laid, When the trump sounded, in the hostile train, But he in black no sign of jousting made, As if he held such vantage in disdain: Better he deemed the law were disobeyed, Than that his courtesy should suffer stain. The knight retires apart, and sits to view What against nine one single lance can do.

LXXXI Of smooth and balanced pace, the damsel's horse To the encounter her with swiftness bore; Who poised a lance so massive in the course, It would have been an overweight for four. She, disembarking, as of greatest force, The boom had chosen out of many more. At her fierce semblance when in motion, quail A thousand hearts, a thousand looks grow pale.

LXXXII The bosom of the first she opens so, As might surprise, if naked were the breast: She pierced the cuirass and the mail below; But first a buckler, solid and well prest, A yard behind the shoulders of the foe Was seen the steel, so well was it addrest. Speared on her lance she left him on the plain, And at the others drove with flowing rein;

LXXXIII And so she shocked the second of the crew, And dealt the third so terrible a blow, From sell and life, with broken spine, the two She drove at once. So fell the overthrow, And with such weight she charged the warriors through! So serried was the battle of the foe! — I have seen bombard open in such mode The squadrons, as that band Marphisa strowed.

LXXXIV Many good spears were broken on the dame, Who was as little moved as solid wall, When revellers play the chace's merry game, Is ever moved by stroke of heavy ball. So hard the temper of her corslet's mail, The strokes aye harmless on the breast-plate fall, Whose steel was heated in the fires of hell, And in Avernus' water slaked by spell.

LXXXV At the end of the career, she checked her steed, Wheeled him about, and for a little stayed; And then against the others drove at speed, Broke them, and to the handle dyed her blade. Here shorn of arms, and there of head, they bleed; And other in such manner cleft the maid, That breast, and head, and arms together fell, Belly and legs remaining in the sell.

LXXXVI With such just measure him she cleaves, I say, Where the two haunches and the ribs confine: And leaves him a half figure, in such way As what we before images divine, Of silver, oftener made of wax, survey; Which supplicants from far and near enshrine, In thanks for mercy shown, and to bestow A pious quittance for accepted vow.

LXXXVII Marphisa next made after one that flew, And overtook the wretch, and cleft (before He the mid square had won) his collar through, So clean, no surgeon ever pieced it more. One after other, all in fine she slew, Or wounded every one she smote so sore, She was secure, that never more would foe Arise anew from earth, to work her woe.

LXXXVIII The cavalier this while had stood aside, Who had the ten conducted to the place, Since, with so many against one to ride, Had seemed to him advantage four and base; Who, now he by a single hand espied So speedily his whole array displaced, Pricked forth against the martial maid, to show 'Twas courtesy, not fear, had made him slow.

LXXXIX He, signing with his right hand, made appear That he would speak ere their career was run, Nor thinking that beneath such manly cheer A gentle virgin was concealed, begun: "I wot thou needs must be, sir cavalier, Sore wearied with such mighty slaughter done; And if I were disposed to weary thee More than thou art, it were discourtesy.

XC "To thee, to rest until to-morrow's light, Then to renew the battle, I concede. No honour 'twere to-day to prove my might On thee, whom weak and overwrought I read." — "Arms are not new to me, nor listed fight; Nor does fatigue so short a toil succeed," Answered Marphisa, "and I, at my post, Hope to prove this upon thee, to thy cost.

XCI "I thank thee for thy offer of delay, But need not what thy courtesy agrees; And yet remains so large a space of day 'Twere very shame to spend it all in ease." — "Oh! were I (he replied) so sure to appay My heart with everything which best would please, As thine I shall appay in this! — but see, That ere thou thinkest, daylight fail not thee."

XCII So said he, and obedient to his hest Two spears, say rather heavy booms, they bear. He to Marphisa bids consigns the best, And the other takes himself: the martial pair Already, with their lances in the rest, Wait but till other blast the joust declare. Lo! earth and air and sea the noise rebound, As they prick forth, at the first trumpet's sound!

XCIII No mouth was opened and no eyelid fell, Nor breath was drawn, amid the observant crew: So sore intent was every one to spell Which should be conqueror of the warlike two. Marphisa the black champion from his sell, So to o'erthrow he shall not rise anew, Levels her lance; and the black champion, bent To slay Marphisa, spurs with like intent.

XCIV Both lances, made of willow thin and dry, Rather than stout and stubborn oak, appeared; So splintered even to the rest, they fly: While with such force the encountering steeds careered, It seemed, as with a scythe-blade equally The hams of either courser had been sheared. Alike both fall; but voiding quick the seat, The nimble riders start upon their feet.

XCV Marphisa in her life, with certain wound, A thousand cavaliers on earth had laid; And never had herself been borne to ground; Yet quitted now the saddle, as was said. Not only at the accident astound, But nigh beside herself, remained the maid. Strange to the sable cavalier withal, Unwont to be unhorsed, appeared his fall.

XCVI They scarcely touch the ground before they gain Their feet, and now the fierce assault renew, With cut and thrust; which now with shield the twain Or blade ward off, and now by leaps eschew. Whether the foes strike home, or smite in vain, Blows ring, and echo parted aether through. More force those shields, those helms, those breast-plates show Than anvils underneath the sounding blow.

XCVII If heavy falls the savage damsel's blade, That falls not lightly of her warlike foe. Equal the measure one the other paid; And both receive as much as they bestow. He who would see two daring spirits weighed, To seek two fiercer need no further go. Nor to seek more dexterity or might; For greater could not be in mortal wight.

XCVIII The women who have sate long time, to view The champions with such horrid strokes offend, Nor sign of trouble in the warriors true Behold, nor yet of weariness, commend Them with just praises, as the worthiest two That are, where'er the sea's wide arms extend. They deem these of mere toil and labour long Must die, save they be strongest of the strong.

XCIX Communing with herself, Marphisa said, "That he moved not before was well for me! Who risqued to have been numbered with the dead, If he at first had joined his company. Since, as it is, I hardly can make head Against his deadly blows." This colloquy She with herself maintained, and while she spoke, Ceased not to ply her sword with circling stroke.

C " 'Twas well for me," the other cried again, "That to repose I did not leave the knight. I now from him defend myself with pain, Who is o'erwearied with the former fight: What had he been, renewed in might and main, If he had rested till to-morrow's light? Right fortunate was I, as man could be, That he refused my proffered courtesy!"

CI Till eve they strove, nor did it yet appear Which had the vantage of the doubtful fray: Nor, without light, could either foe see clear Now to avoid the furious blows; when day Was done, again the courteous cavalier To his illustrious opposite 'gan say; "What shall we do, since ill-timed shades descend, While we with equal fortune thus contend?"

CII "Meseems, at least, that till to-morrow's morn 'Twere better thou prolonged thy life: no right Have I thy doom, sir warrior, to adjourn Beyond the limits of one little night. Nor will I that by me the blame be born That thou no longer shalt enjoy the light. With reason to the sex's charge, by whom This place is governed, lay thy cruel doom."

CIII "If I lament thee and thy company, HE knows, by whom all hidden things are spied. Thou and thy comrades may repose with me, For whom there is no safe abode beside: Since leagued against you in conspiracy Are all those husbands by thy hand have died. For every valiant warrior of the men Slain in the tourney, consort was of ten.

CIV "The scathe they have to-day received from thee, Would ninety women wreak with vengeful spite; And, save thou take my hospitality, Except by them to be assailed this night." — "I take thy proffer in security," (Replied Marphisa), "that the faith so plight, And goodness of thy heart, will prove no less, Than are thy corporal strength and hardiness.

CV "But if, as having to kill me, thou grieve, Thou well mayst grieve, for reasons opposite; Nor hast thou cause to laugh, as I conceive, Nor hitherto has found me worst in fight. Whether thou wouldst defer the fray, or leave, Or prosecute by this or other light, Behold me prompt thy wishes to fulfil; Where and whenever it shall be thy will!"

CVI So by consent the combatants divided, Till the dawn broke from Ganges' stream anew; And so remained the question undecided, Which was the better champion of the two, To both the brothers and the rest who sided Upon that part, the liberal lord did sue With courteous prayer, that till the coming day They would be pleased beneath his roof to stay.

CVII They unsuspecting with the prayer complied, And by the cheerful blaze of torches white A royal dome ascended, with their guide, Divided into many bowers and bright. The combatants remain as stupified, On lifting up their vizors, at the sight One of the other; for (by what appears) The warrior hardly numbers eighteen years.

CVIII Much marvels with herself the gentle dame, That one so young so well should do and dare. Much marvels he (his wonderment the same) When he her sex agnizes by her hair. Questioning one another of their name, As speedily reply the youthful pair. But how was hight the youthful cavalier, Await till the ensuing strain to hear.

CANTO 20

ARGUMENT Guido and his from that foul haunt retire, While all Astolpho chases with his horn, Who to all quarters of the town sets fire, Then roving singly round the world is borne. Marphisa, for Gabrina's cause, in ire Puts upon young Zerbino scathe and scorn, And makes him guardian of Gabrina fell, From whom he first learns news of Isabel.

I Great fears the women of antiquity In arms and hallowed arts as well have done, And of their worthy works the memory And lustre through this ample world has shone. Praised is Camilla, with Harpalice, For the fair course which they in battle run. Corinna and Sappho, famous for their lore, Shine two illustrious light, to set no more.

II Women have reached the pinnacle of glory, In every art by them professed, well seen; And whosoever turns the leaf of story, Finds record of them, neither dim nor mean. The evil influence will be transitory, If long deprived of such the world had been; And envious men, and those that never knew Their worth, have haply hid their honours due.

III To me it plainly seems, in this our age Of women such is the celebrity, That it may furnish matter to the page, Whence this dispersed to future years shall be; And you, ye evil tongues which foully rage, Be tied to your eternal infamy, And women's praises so resplendent show, They shall, by much, Marphisa's worth outgo.

IV To her returning yet again; the dame To him who showed to her such courteous lore, Refused not to disclose her martial name, Since he agreed to tell the style be bore. She quickly satisfied the warrior's claim; To learn his title she desired so sore. "I am Marphisa," the virago cried: All else was known, as bruited far and wide.

V The other, since 'twas his to speak, begun With longer preamble: "Amid your train, Sirs, it is my belief that there is none But has heard mention of my race and strain. Not Pontus, Aethiopia, Ind alone, With all their neighbouring realms, but France and Spain Wot well of Clermont, from whose loins the knight Issued who killed Almontes bold in fight,

VI "And Chiareillo and Mambrino slew, And sacked the realm whose royal crown they wore. Come of this blood, where Danube's waters, through Eight horns or ten to meet the Euxine pour, Me to the far-renowned Duke Aymon, who Thither a stranger roved, my mother bore. And 'tis a twelvemonth now since her, in quest Of my French kin, I left with grief opprest.

VII "But reached not France, for southern tempest's spite Impelled me hither; lodged in royal bower Ten months or more; for — miserable wight! — I reckon every day and every hour. Guido the Savage I by name am hight, Ill known and scarcely proved in warlike stower. Here Argilon of Meliboea I Slew with ten warriors in his company.

VIII "Conqueror as well in other field confessed, Ten ladies are the partners of my bed: Selected at my choice, who are the best And fairest damsels in this kingdom bred: These I command, as well as all the rest, Who of their female band have made me head; And so would make another who in fight, Like me, ten opposites to death would smite."

IX Sir Guido is besought of them to say Why there appear so few of the male race, And to declare if women there bear sway O'er men, as men o'er them in other place. He: "Since my fortune has been here to stay, I oftentimes have heard relate the case; And now (according to the story told) Will, since it pleases you, the cause unfold.

X "When, after twenty years, the Grecian host Returned from Troy (ten years hostility The town endured, ten weary years were tost The Greeks, detained by adverse winds at sea), They found their women had, for comforts lost, And pangs of absence, learned a remedy; And, that they might not freeze alone in bed, Chosen young lovers in their husbands' stead.

XI "With others' children filled the Grecian crew Their houses found, and by consent was past A pardon to their women; for they knew How ill they could endure so long a fast. But the adulterous issue, as their due, To seek their fortunes on the world were cast: Because the husbands would not suffer more The striplings should be nourished from their store.

XII "Some are exposed, and others underhand Their kindly mothers shelter and maintain: While the adults, in many a various band, Some here, some there dispersed, their living gain. Arms are the trade of some, by some are scanned Letters and arts; another tills the plain: One serves in court, by other guided go The herd as pleases her who rules below.

XIII "A boy departed with they youthful peers, Who was of cruel Clytemnestra born; Like lily fresh (he numbered eighteen years) Or blooming rose, new-gathered from the thorn. He having armed a bark, his pinnace steers In search of plunder, o'er the billows borne. With him a hundred other youths engage, Picked from all Greece, and of their leader's age.

XIV "The Cretans, who had banished in that day Idomeneus the tyrant of their land, And their new state to strengthen and upstay, Were gathering arms and levying martial band, Phalantus' service by their goodly pay Purchased (so hight the youth who sought that strand), And all those others that his fortune run, Who the Dictaean city garrison.

XV "Amid the hundred cities of old Crete, Was the Dictaean the most rich and bright; Of fair and amorous dames the joyous seat, Joyous with festive sports from morn to night: And (as her townsmen aye were wont to greet The stranger) with such hospitable rite They welcomed these, it little lacked but they Granted them o'er their households sovereign sway.

XVI "Youthful and passing fair were all the crew, The flower of Greece, who bold Phalantus led; So that with those fair ladies at first view, Stealing their hearts, full well the striplings sped. Since, fair in deed as show, they good and true Lovers evinced themselves and bold in bed. And in few days to them so grateful proved, Above all dearest things they were beloved.

XVII "After the war was ended on accord, For which were hired Phalantus and his train, And pay withdrawn, nor longer by the sword Was aught which the adventurous youth can gain, And they, for this, anew would go aboard, The unhappy Cretan women more complain, And fuller tears on this occasion shed, That if their fathers lay before them dead.

XVIII "Long time and sorely all the striplings bold Were, each apart, by them implored to stay: Who since the fleeting youths they cannot hold, Leave brother, sire, and son, with these to stray, Of jewels and of weighty sums of gold Spoiling their households ere they wend their way, For so well was the plot concealed, no wight Throughout all Crete was privy to their flight.

XIX "So happy was the hour, so fair the wind, When young Phalantus chose his time to flee, They many miles had left the isle behind, Ere Crete lamented her calamity. Next, uninhabited by human kind, This shore received them wandering o'er the sea. 'Twas here they settled, with the plunder reft, And better weighed the issue of their theft.

XX "With amorous pleasures teemed this place of rest, For ten days, to that roving company: But, as oft happens that in youthful breast Abundance brings with it satiety, To quit their women, with one wish possest, The band resolved to win their liberty; For never burden does so sore oppress As woman, when her love breeds weariness.

XXI "They, who are covetous of spoil and gain, And ill-bested withal in stipend, know That better means are wanted to maintain So many paramours, than shaft and bow; And leaving thus alone the wretched train, Thence, with their riches charged the adventurers go For Puglia's pleasant land: there founded near The sea, Tarentum's city, as I hear.

XXII "The women when they find themselves betrayed Of lovers by whose faith they set most store, For many days remain so sore dismayed, That they seem lifeless statues on the shore. But seeing lamentations nothing aid, And fruitless are the many tears they pour, Begin to meditate, amid their pains, What remedy for such an ill remains.

XXIII "Some laying their opinions now before The others, deem that to return to Crete Is in their sad estate the wiser lore, Throwing themselves at sire and husband's feet, Than in those wilds, and on that desert shore, To pine of want. Another troop repeat, They should esteem it were a worthier notion To cast themselves into the neighbouring ocean;

XXIV "And lighter ill, if they as harlots went About the world, — beggars or slaves to be, Than offer up themselves for punishment, Well merited by their iniquity. Such and like schemes the unhappy dames present, Each harder than the other. Finally, One Orontea amid these upstood, Who drew her origin from Minos' blood.

XXV "Youngest and fairest of the crew betrayed She was, and wariest, and who least had erred, Who to Phalantus' arms had come a maid, And left for him her father: she in word, As well as in a kindling face, displayed How much with generous wrath her heart was stirred; Then, reprobating all advised before, Spake; and adopted saw her better lore.

XXVI "She would not leave the land they were upon, Whose soil was fruitful, and whose air was sane, Throughout which many limpid rivers ran, Shaded with woods, and for the most part plain; With creek and port, where stranger bark could shun Foul wind or storm, which vexed the neighbouring main, That might from Afric or from Egypt bring Victual or other necessary thing.

XXVII "For vengeance (she opined) they there should stay Upon man's sex, which had so sore offended. She willed each bark and crew which to that bay For shelter from the angry tempest wended, They should, without remorse, burn, sack, and slay, Nor mercy be to any one extended. Such was the lady's motion, such the course Adopted; and the statute put in force.

XXVIII "The women, when they see the changing heaven Turbid with tempest, hurry to the strand, With savage Orontea, by whom given Was the fell law, the ruler of the land; And of all barks into their haven driven Make havoc dread with fire and murderous brand, Leaving no man alive, who may diffuse Upon this side or that the dismal news.

XXIX " 'Twas thus with the male sex at enmity, Some years the lonely women lived forlorn: Then found that hurtful to themselves would be The scheme, save changed; for if from them were born None to perpetuate their empery, The idle law would soon be held in scorn, And fail together with the fruitful reign, Which they had hoped eternal should remain.

XXX "So that some deal its rigour they allay, And in four years, of all who made repair Thither, by chance conducted to this bay, Chose out ten vigorous cavaliers and fair; That for endurance in the amorous play Against those hundred dames good champions were: A hundred they; and, of the chosen men, A husband was assigned to every ten.

XXXI "Ere this, too feeble to abide the test, Many a one on scaffold lost his head. Now these ten warriors so approved the best, Were made partakers of their rule and bed; First swearing at the sovereign ladies' hest, That they, if others to that port are led, No mercy shall to any one afford, But one and all will put them to the sword.

XXXII "To swell, and next to child, and thence to fear The women turned to teeming wives began Lest they in time so many males should bear As might invade the sovereignty they plan, And that the government they hold so dear Might finally from them revert to man. And so, while these are children yet, take measure, They never shall rebel against their pleasure.

XXXIII "That the male sex may not usurp the sway, It is enacted by the statute fell, Each mother should one boy preserve, and slay The others, or abroad exchange or sell. For this, they these to various parts convey, And to the bearers of the children tell, To truck the girls for boys in foreign lands, Or not, at least, return with empty hands.

XXXIV "Nor by the women one preserved would be, If they without them could the race maintain. Such all their mercy, all the clemency The law accords for theirs, not others' gain. The dames all others sentence equally; And temper but in this their statute's pain, That, not as was their former practice, they All in their rage promiscuously slay.

XXXV "Did ten or twenty persons, or yet more, Arrive, they were imprisoned and put by; And every day one only from the store Of victims was brought out by lot to die, In fane by Orontea built, before An altar raised to Vengeance; and to ply As headsman, and dispatched the unhappy men, One was by lot selected from the ten.

XXXVI "To that foul murderous shore by chance did fare, After long years elapsed, a youthful wight, Whose fathers sprung from good Alcides were, And he, of proof in arms, Elbanio hight; There was he seized, of peril scarce aware, As unsuspecting such a foul despite: And, closely guarded, into prison flung, Kept for like cruel use the rest among.

XXXVII "Adorned with every fair accomplishment, Of pleasing face and manners was the peer, And of a speech so sweet and eloquent, Him the deaf adder might have stopt to hear; So that of him to Alexandria went Tidings as of a precious thing and rare. She was the daughter of that matron bold, Queen Orontea, that yet lived, though old.

XXXVIII "Yet Orontea lived, while of that shore The other settlers all were dead and gone; And now ten times as many such or more Had into strength and greater credit grown. Nor for ten forges, often closed, in store Have the ill-furnished band more files than one; And the ten champions have as well the care To welcome shrewdly all who thither fare.

XXXIX "Young Alexandria, who the blooming peer Burned to behold so praised on every part, The special pleasure him to see and hear, Won from her mother; and, about to part From him, discovers that the cavalier Remains the master of her tortured heart; Finds herself bound, and that 'tis vain to stir, — A captive made by her own prisoner.

XL " 'I pity,' (said Elbanio) 'lady fair, Was in this cruel region known, as through All other countries near or distant, where The wandering sun sheds light and colouring hue, I by your beauty's kindly charms should dare (Which make each gentle spirit bound to you) To beg my life; which always, at your will, Should I be ready for your love to spill.

XLI " 'But since deprived of all humanity Are human bosoms in this cruel land, I shall not now request my life of thee, (For fruitless would, I know, be the demand) But, whether a good knight or bad I be, Ask but like such to die with arms in hand, And not as one condemned to penal pain; Or like brute beast in sacrifice be slain.'

XLII "The gentle maid, her eye bedimmed with tear, In pity for the hapless youth, replied: 'Though this land be more cruel and severe Than any other country, far and wide, Each woman is not a Medaea here As thou wouldst make her; and, if all beside Were of such evil kind, in me alone Should an exception to the rest be known.

XLIII " 'And though I, like so many here, of yore Was full of evil deeds and cruelty, I can well say, I never had before A fitting subject for my clemency. But fiercer were I than a tiger, more Hard were my heart than diamonds, if in me All hardness did not vanish and give place Before your courage, gentleness, and grace.

XLIV " 'Ah! were the cruel statute less severe Against the stranger to these shores conveyed! So should I not esteem my death too dear A ransom for thy worthier life were paid. But none is here so great, sir cavalier, Nor of such puissance as to lend thee aid; And what thou askest, though a scanty grace, Were difficult to compass in this place.

XLV " 'And yet will I endeavour to obtain For thee, before thou perish, this content; Though much, I fear, 'twill but augment thy pain. And thee protracted death but more torment.' 'So I the ten encounter,' (said again Elbanio), 'I at heart, am confident Myself to save, and enemies to slay; Though made of iron were the whole array.'

XLVI "To this the youthful Alexandria nought Made answer, saving with a piteous sigh; And from the conference a bosom brought, Gored with deep wounds, beyond all remedy. To Orontea she repaired, and wrought On her to will the stripling should not die, Should he display such courage and such skill As with his single hand the ten to kill.

XLVII "Queen Orontea straightway bade unite Her council, and bespoke the assembled band: 'It still behoves us place the prowest wight Whom we can find, to guard our ports and strand. And, to discover whom to take or slight, 'Tis fitting that we prove the warrior's hand; Lest, to our loss, the election made be wrong, And we enthrone the weak and slay the strong.

XLVIII " 'I deem it fit, if you the counsel shown Deem fit as well, in future to ordain, That each upon our coast by Fortune thrown, Before he in the temple shall be slain, Shall have the choice, instead of this, alone Battle against ten others to maintain; And if he conquer, shall the port defend With other comrades, pardoned to that end.

XLIX " 'I say this, since to strive against our ten, It seems, that one imprisoned here will dare: Who, if he stands against so many men, By Heaven, deserves that we should hear his prayer; But if he rashly boasts himself, again As worthily due the punishment should bear.' Here Orontea ceased; on the other side, To her the oldest of the dames replied.

L " 'The leading cause, for which to entertain This intercourse with men we first agreed, Was not because we, to defend this reign, Of their assistance stood in any need; For we have skill and courage to maintain This of ourselves, and force, withal, to speed. Would that we could in all as well avail Without their succour, nor succession fail!

LI " 'But since this may not be, we some have made (These few) partakers of our company; That, ten to one, we be not overlaid; Nor they possess them of the sovereignty. Not that we for protection need their aid, But simply to increase and multiply. Than be their powers to this sole fear addressed, And be they sluggards, idle for the rest.

LII " 'To keep among us such a puissant wight Our first design would render wholly vain. If one can singly slay ten men in fight, How many women can he not restrain? If our ten champions had possessed such might, They the first day would have usurped the reign. To arm a hand more powerful than your own Is an ill method to maintain the throne.

LIII " 'Reflect withal, that if your prisoner speed So that he kill ten champions in the fray, A hundred women's cry, whose lords will bleed Beneath his falchion, shall your ears dismay. Let him not 'scape by such a murderous deed; But, if he would, propound some other way. — Yet if he of those ten supply the place, And please a hundred women, grant him grace.'

LIV "This was severe Artemia's sentiment, (So was she named) and had her counsel weighed, Elbanio to the temple had been sent, To perish by the sacrificial blade. But Orontea, willing to content Her daughter, to the matron answer made; And urged so many reasons, and so wrought, The yielding senate granted what she ought.

LV "Elbanio's beauty (for so fair to view Never was any cavalier beside) So strongly works upon the youthful crew, Which in that council sit the state to guide, That the opinion of the older few That like Artemia think, is set aside; And little lacks but that the assembled race Absolve Elbanio by especial grace.

LVI "To pardon him in fine the dames agreed: But, after slaying his half-score, and when He in the next assault as well should speech, Not with a hundred women, but with ten; And, furnished to his wish with arms and steed, Next day he was released from dungeon-den, And singly with ten warriors matched in plain, Who by his arm successively were slain.

LVII "He to new proof was put the following night, Against ten damsels naked and alone; When so successful was the stripling's might, He took the 'say of all the troop, and won Such grace with Orontea, that the knight Was by the dame adopted for her son; And from her Alexandria had to wife, With those whom he had proved in amorous strife.

LVIII "And him she left with Alexandria, heir To this famed city, which from her was hight, So he and all who his successors were, Should guard the law which willed, whatever wight, Conducted hither by his cruel star, Upon this miserable land did light, Should have his choice to perish by the knife, Or singly with ten foes contend to strife.

LIX "And if he should dispatch the men by day, At night should prove him with the female crew; And if so fortunate that in this play He proved again the conqueror, he, as due, The female band, as prince and guide, should sway, And his ten consorts at his choice renew: And reign with them, till other should arrive Of stouter hand, and him of life deprive.

LX "They for two thousand years nigh past away This usage have maintained, and yet maintain The impious rite; and rarely passes day But stranger wight is slaughtered in the fane. If he, Elbanio-like, ten foes assay, (And such sometimes is found) he oft is slain In the first charge: nor, in a thousand, one The other feat, of which I spake, has done,

LXI "Yet some there are have done it, though so few, They may be numbered on the fingers; one Of the victorious cavaliers, but who Reigned with his ten short time, was Argilon: For, smote by me, whom ill wind hither blew, The knight to his eternal rest is gone. Would I with him that day had filled a grave, Rather than in such scorn survive a slave!

LXII "For amorous pleasures, laughter, game, and play, Which evermore delight the youthful breast; The gem, the purple garment, rich array, And in his city place before the rest. Little, by Heaven, the wretched man appay Who of his liberty is dispossest: And not to have the power to leave this shore To me seems shameful servitude and sore.

LXIII "To know I wear away life's glorious spring In such effeminate and slothful leisure Is to my troubled heart a constant sting, And takes away the taste of every pleasure. Fame bears my kindred's praise on outstretched wing, Even to the skies; and haply equal measure I of the glories of my blood might share If I united with my brethren were.

LXIV "Methinks my fate does such injurious deed By me, condemned to servitude so base, As he who turns to grass the generous steed To run amid the herd of meaner race, Because unfit for war or worthier meed, Through blemish, or disease of sight or pace. Nor hoping but by death, alas! to fly So vile a service, I desire to die."

LXV Here Guido ceased to address the martial peers, And cursed withal the day, in high disdain, That he achieved o'er dames and cavaliers The double victory which bestowed that reign. Astolpho hides his name, and silent hears, Until to him by many a sign is plain That this Sir Guido is, as he had said, The issue of his kinsman Aymon's bed.

LXVI Then cried: "The English duke, Astolpho, I Thy cousin am," and clipt him round the waist, And in a kindly act of courtesy, Not without weeping, kist him and embraced. Then, "Kinsman dear, thy birth to certify No better sign thy mother could have placed About thy neck. Enough! that sword of thine, And courage, vouch thee of our valiant line."

LXVII Guido, who gladly would in other place So near a kin have welcomed, in dismay Beholds him here and with a mournful face; Knowing, if he himself survives the fray, Astolpho will be doomed to slavery base, His fate deferred but till the following day; And he shall perish, if the duke is free: So that one's good the other's ill shall be.

LXVIII He grieves, as well, the other cavaliers Should through his means for ever captive be; Nor, that he should, if slain, those martial peers Deliver by his death from slavery. Since if Marphisa from one quicksand clears The troop, yet these from other fails to free, She will have won the victory in vain; For they will be enslaved, and she be slain.

LXIX On the other hand, the stripling's age, in May Of youth, with courtesy and valour fraught, Upon the maid and comrades with such sway, Touching their breasts with love and pity, wrought That they of freedom, for which he must pay The forfeit of his life, nigh loathed the thought; And if Marphisa him perforce must kill, She is resolved as well herself to spill.

LXX "Join thou with us," she to Sir Guido cried, "And we from hence will sally." — "From within These walls to sally" — Guido on his side Answered, "Ne'er hope: With me you lose or win." "— I fear not, I," the martial maid replied, "To execute whatever I begin; Nor know what can securer path afford Than that which I shall open with my sword.

LXXI "Such proof of thy fair prowess have I made, With thee I every enterprise would dare. To-morrow when about the palisade The crowds assembled in the circus are, Let us on every side the mob invade, Whether they fly or for defence prepare; Then give the town to fire, and on their bed Of earth to wolf and vulture leave the dead."

LXXII He: "Ready shalt thou find me in the strife To follow thee or perish at thy side: But let us hope not to escape with life. Enough, is vengeance somedeal satisfied Ere death; for oft ten thousand, maid and wife, I in the place have witnessed; and, outside, As many castle, wall and port, defend. Nor know I certain way from hence to wend."

LXXIII "And were there more (Marphisa made reply) Than Xerxes led, our squadrons to oppose, More than those rebel spirits from the sky Cast out to dwell amid perpetual woes, All in one day should by this weapon die, Wert thou with me, at least, not with my foes." To her again, "No project but must fail, (Sir Guido said) I know, save this avail."

LXXIV "This only us can save, should it succeed; This, which but now remembered I shall teach. To dames alone our laws the right concede To sally, or set foot upon the beach, And hence to one of mine in this our need Must I commit myself, and aid beseech; Whose love for me, by perfect friendship tied, Has oft by better proof than this been tried.

LXXV "No less than me would she desire that I Should 'scape from slavery, so she went with me; And that, without her rival's company, She of my lot should sole partaker be. She bark or pinnace, in the harbour nigh, Shall bid, while yet 'tis dark, prepare for sea; Which shall await your sailors, rigged and yare For sailing, when they thither shall repair.

LXXVI "Behind me, in a solid band comprest, Ye merchants, mariners and warriors, who, Driven to this city, have set up your rest Beneath this roof (for which my thanks are due) — You have to force your way with stedfast breast, If adversaries interrupt our crew. 'Tis thus I hope, by succour of the sword, To clear a passage through the cruel horde."

LXXVII "Do as thou wilt," Marphisa made reply, "I of escape am confident withal: And likelier 'twere that by my hand should die The martial race, encompassed by this wall, Than any one should ever see me fly, Or guess by other sign that fears appall. I would my passage force in open day, And shameful in my sight were other way.

LXXVIII "I wot if I were for a woman known, Honour and place from women I might claim, Here gladly entertained, and classed as one Haply among their chiefs of highest fame: But privilege or favour will I none Unshared by those with whom I hither came. Too base it were, did I depart or free Remain, to leave the rest in slavery."

LXXIX These speeches by Marphisa made, and more, Showed that what only had restrained her arm Was the respect she to the safety bore Of the companions whom her wrath might harm; By this alone withheld form taking sore And signal vengeance on the female swarm. And hence she left in Guido's care to shape What seemed the fittest means for their escape.

LXXX Sir Guido speaks that night with Alery (So the most faithful of his wives was hight) Nor needs long prayer to make the dame agree, Disposed already to obey the knight. She takes a ship and arms the bark for sea, Stowed with her richest chattels for their flight; Feigning design, as soon as dawn ensues, To sail with her companions on a cruise.

LXXXI She into Guido's palace had before Bid sword and spear and shield and cuirass bear; With the intent to furnish from this store, Merchants and sailors that half naked were. Some watch, and some repose upon the floor, And rest and guard among each other share; Oft marking, still with harness on their backs, If ruddy yet with light the orient wax.

LXXXII Not yet from earth's hard visage has the sun Lifted her veil of dim and dingy dye; Scarcely Lycaon's child, her furrow done, Has turned about her ploughshare in the sky; When to the theatre the women run Who would the fearful battle's end espy, As swarming bees upon their threshold cluster, Who bent on change of realm in springtide muster.

LXXXIII With warlike trumpet, drum, and sound of horn, The people make the land and welkin roar; Summoning thus their chieftain to return, And end of unfinished warfare. Covered o'er With arms stand Aquilant and Gryphon stern, And the redoubted duke from England's shore. Marphisa, Dudo, Sansonet, and all The knights or footmen harboured in that hall.

LXXXIV Hence to descend towards the sea or port The way across the place of combat lies; Nor was there other passage, long or short. Sir Guido so to his companions cries: And having ceased his comrades to exhort, To do their best set forth in silent wise, And in the place appeared, amid the throng, Head of a squad above a hundred strong.

LXXXV Toward the other gate Sir Guido went, Hurrying his band, but, gathered far and nigh The mighty multitude, for aye intent To smite, and clad in arms, when they descry The comrades whom he leads, perceive his bent, And truly deem he is about to fly. All in a thought betake them to their bows, And at the portal part the knight oppose.

LXXXVI Sir Guido and the cavaliers who go Beneath that champion's guidance, and before The others bold Marphisa, were not slow To strike, and laboured hard to force the door. But such a storm of darts from ready bow, Dealing on all sides death or wounding sore, Was rained in fury on the troop forlorn, They feared at last to encounter skaith and scorn.

LXXXVII Of proof the corslet was each warrior wore, Who without this would have had worse to fear: Sansonnet's horse was slain, and that which bore Marphisa: to himself the English peer Exclaimed, "Why wait I longer? As if more My horn could ever succour me than here. Since the sword steads not, I will make assay If with my bugle I can clear the way."

LXXXVIII As he was customed in extremity, He to his mouth applied the bugle's round; The wide world seemed to tremble, earth and sky, As he in air discharged the horrid sound. Such terror smote the dames, that bent to fly, When in their ears the deafening horn was wound, Not only they the gate unguarded left, But from the circus reeled, of wit bereft.

LXXXIX As family, awaked in sudden wise, Leaps from the windows and from lofty height, Periling life and limb, when in surprise They see, now near, the fire's encircling light, Which had, while slumber sealed their heavy eyes, By little and by little waxed at night: Reckless of life, thus each, impelled by dread, At sound of that appalling bugle fled.

XC Above, below, and here and there, the rout Rise in confusion and attempt to fly. At once, above a thousand swarm about Each entrance, to each other's lett, and lie In heaps: from window these, or stage without, Leap headlong; in the press these smothered die. Broken is many an arm, and many a head; And one lies crippled, and another dead.

XCI Amid the mighty ruin which ensued, Cries pierce the very heavens on every part. Where'er the sound is heard, the multitude, In panic at the deafening echo, start. When you are told that without hardihood Appear the rabble, and of feeble heart, This need not more your marvel; for by nature The hare is evermore a timid creature.

XCII But of Marphisa what will be your thought, And Guido late so furious? — of the two Young sons of Olivier, that lately wrought Such deeds in honour of their lineage? who Lately a hundred thousand held as nought, And now, deprived of courage, basely flew, As ring-doves flutter and as coneys fly, Who hear some mighty noise resounding nigh.

XCIII For so to friend as stranger, noxious are The powers that in the enchanted horn reside. Sansonet, Guido, follow, with the pair Or brethren bold, Marphisa terrified. Nor flying, can they to such distance fare, But that their ears are dinned. On every side Astolpho, on his foaming courser borne, Lends louder breath to his enchanted horn.

XCIV One sought the sea, and one the mountain-top, One fled the hide herself in forest hoar; And this, who turned not once nor made a stop, Not for ten days her headlong flight forbore: These from the bridge in that dread moment drop, Never to climb the river's margin more. So temple, house and square and street were drained, That nigh unpeopled the wide town remained.

XCV Marphisa, Guido, and the brethren two, With Sansonetto, pale and trembling, hie Towards the sea, and behind these the crew Of frighted mariners and merchants fly; And 'twixt the forts, in bark, prepared with view To their escape, discover Alery; Who in sore haste receives the warriors pale, And bids them ply their oars and make all sail.

XCVI The duke within and out the town had bear From the surrounding hills to the sea-side, And of its people emptied every street. All fly before the deafening sound, and hide: Many in panic, seeking a retreat, Lurk, in some place obscure and filthy stied; Many, not knowing whither to repair, Plunge in the neighbouring sea, and perish there.

XCVII The duke arrives, seeking the friendly band, Whom he had hoped to find upon the quay; He turns and gazes round the desert strand, And none is there — directs along the bay His eyes, and now, far distant from the land, Beholds the parting frigate under way. So that the paladin, for his escape — The vessel gone — must other project shape.

XCVIII Let him depart! nor let it trouble you That he so long a road must beat alone; Where, never without fear, man journeys through Wild paynim countries: danger is there none, But what he with his bugle may eschew, Whose dread effect the English duke has shown; And let his late companions be our care, Who trembling to the beach had made repair.

XCIX They from that cruel and ensanguined ground To seaward, under all their canvas, bore; And having gained such offing, that the sound Of that alarming horn was heard no more, Unwonted shame inflicted such a wound, That all a face of burning crimson wore. One dares not eye the other, and they stand With downcast looks, a mute and mournful band.

C Fixed on his course, the pilot passes by Cyprus and Rhodes, and ploughs the Aegean sea: Beholds a hundred islands from him fly, And Malea's fearful headland; fanned by free And constant wind, sees vanish from the eye The Greek Morea; rounding Sicily, Into the Tuscan sea his frigate veers, And, coasting Italy's fair region, steers:

CI Last rises Luna, where his family Is waiting his return, the patron hoar Gives thanks to God at having passed the sea Without more harm, and makes the well-known shore. Here, offering passage to their company, They find a master, ready to unmoor For France, and that same day his pinnace climb; Thence wafted to Marseilles in little time.

CII There was not Bradamant, who used to sway The land, and had that city in her care, And who (if present there) to make some stay Would have compelled them by her courteous prayer. They disembarked; and that same hour away Did bold Marphisa at a venture fare; Bidding adieu to salvage Guido's wife, And to the four, her comrades in the strife:

CIII Saying she deems unfitting for a knight To fare in like great fellowship; that so The starlings and the doves in flock unite, And every beast who fears — the stag and doe; But hawk and eagle, that in other's might Put not their trust, for ever singly go; And lion, bear, and tyger, roam alone, Who fear no prowess greater than their own.

CIV But none with her opine, and, in the lack Of a companion, singly must she fare, So then, alone and friendless, she a track Uncouth pursues, and through a wooded lair. Gryphon the white and Aquilant the black Take road more beaten with the other pair; And on the following day a castle see, Within which they are harboured courteously.

CV Courteously I, in outward show, would say; For soon the contrary was made appear. Since he, the castellain, who with display Of kindness sheltered them and courteous cheer, The night ensuing took them as they lay Couched in their beds, secure and void of fear. Nor from the snare would he his prisoners loose, Till they had sworn to observe an evil use.

CVI But I will first pursue the martial maid, Ere more of these, fair sir, I shall proclaim. Beyond the Durence, Rhone, and Saone she strayed, And to the foot of sunny mountain came; And there approaching in black gown arrayed, Beside a torrent, saw an ancient dame; Who with long journey weak, and wearied sore, Appeared, but pined by melancholy more.

CVII This was the beldam who had wont to ply Serving the robbers in the caverned mount; Whither stern Justice sent (that they might die By that good paladin) Anglante's count. The aged harridan, for cause which I To you shall in another place recount, Now many days by path obscure had flown, Still fearing lest her visage should be known.

CVIII The semblance now of foreign cavalier She in Marphisa saw, in arms and vest; And hence she flies not her, though wont to fear, (As being natives of that land) the rest; — Nay, with security and open cheer, Stops at the ford the damsel to arrest: Stops at the ford — where that old beldam meets Marphisa, and with fair encounter greets.

CIX And next implored the maid, she of her grace Would bear her on the croupe to the other shore. Marphisa, who was come of gentle race, The hag with her across the torrent bore; And is content to bear, till she can place In a securer road the beldam hoar, Clear of a spacious marish: as its end They see a cavalier towards them wend.

CX In shining armour and in fair array, The warrior rode on saddle richly wrought Towards the river, and upon his way With him a single squire and damsel brought. Of passing beauty was the lady gay, But little pleasing was her semblance haught; All overblown with insolence and pride, Worthy the cavalier who was her guide.

CXI He of Maganza was a count, who bore The lady with him (Pinabello hight): The same who Bradamant, some months before, Had plunged into a hollow cave in spite. Those many sobs, those burning sighs and sore, Those tears which had nigh quenched the warrior's sight, — All for the damsel were, now at his side; And then by that false necromancer stied.

CXII But when the magic tower upon the hill Was razed, the dwelling of Atlantes hoar, And every one was free to rove at will, Through Bradamant's good deed and virtuous lore, The damsel, who had been compliant still With the desires of Pinabel before, Rejoined him, and now journeying in a round With him, from castle was to castle bound.

CXIII As wanton and ill-customed, when she spies Marphisa's aged charge approaching near, She cannot rein her saucy tongue, but plies Here, in her petulance, with laugh and jeer. Marphisa haught, unwont in any wise Outrage from whatsoever part to hear, Makes answer to the dame, in angry tone, That handsomer than her she deems the crone.

CXIV And that she this would prove upon her knight With pact that she might strip the bonnibell Of gown and palfrey, if, o'erthrown in fight, Her champion from his goodly courser fell. — In silence to have overpast the slight Would have been sin and shame in Pinabel, Who for short answer seized his shield and spear, And wheeled, and drove at her in fierce career.

CXV Marphisa grasped a mighty lance, and thrust, Encountering him, at Pinabello's eyes; And stretched him so astounded in the dust, That motionless an hour the warrior lies. Marphisa, now victorious in the just, Gave orders to strip off the glorious guise And ornaments wherewith the maid was drest, And with the spoils her ancient crone invest;

CXVI And willed that she should don the youthful weed, Bedizened at the haughty damsel's cost; And took away as well the goodly steed Which her had thither borne, and — bent to post On her old track — with her the hag will speed, Who seems most hideous when adorned the most. Three days the tedious road the couple beat, Without adventure needful to repeat.

CXVII On the fourth day they met a cavalier, Who came in fury galloping alone. If you the stranger's name desire to hear, I tell you 'twas Zerbino, a king's son, Of beauty and of worth example rare, Now grieved and angered, as unvenged of one, Who a great act of courtesy, which fain The warrior would have done, had rendered vain.

CXVIII Vainly the young Zerbino, through the glade, Had chased that man of his, who this despite Had done him, who himself so well conveyed Away and took such 'vantage in his flight, So hid by wood and mist, which overlaid The horizon and bedimmed the morning-light, That he escaped Zerbino's grasp, and lay Concealed until his wrath was past away.

CXIX Zerbino laughed parforce, when he descried That beldam's face, though he was full of rage; For too ill-sorted seemed her vest of pride With her foul visage, more deformed by age; And to the proud Marphisa, at her side The prince, exclaimed, "Sir warrior, you are sage, In having chosen damsel of a sort, Whom none, I ween, will grudge you should escort."

CXX Older than Sibyl seemed the beldam hoar, (As far as from her wrinkles one might guess), And in the youthful ornaments she wore, Looked like an ape which men in mockery dress; And now appears more foul, as angered sore, While rage and wrath her kindled eyes express. For none can do a woman worse despite Than to proclaim her old and foul to sight.

CXXI To have sport of him — as she had — an air Of wrath the maid assumed upon her part, And to the prince, "By Heaven, more passing fair Is this my lady than thou courteous art," Exclaimed in answer; "though I am aware What thou hast uttered comes not from thy heart. Thou wilt not own her beauty; a device Put on to masque thy sovereign cowardice.

CXXII "And of what stamp would be that cavalier Who found such fair and youthful dame alone, Without protection, in the forest drear, Nor sought to make the lovely weft his own?" — "So well she sorts with thee," replied the peer, " 'Twere ill that she were claimed by any one: Nor I of her would thee in any wise Deprive; God rest thee merry with thy prize!

CXXIII "But would thou prove what is my chivalry, On other ground I to thy wish incline; Yet deem me not of such perversity As to tilt with thee for this prize of thine. Or fair or foul, let her remain thy fee; I would not, I, such amity disjoin. Well are ye paired, and safely would I swear That thou as valiant art as she is fair."

CXXIV To him Marphisa, "Thou in thy despite Shalt try to bear from me the dame away. I will not suffer that so fair a sight Thou shouldst behold, nor seek to gain the prey." To her the prince, "I know not wherefore wight Should suffer pain and peril in affray, Striving for victory, where, for his pains, The victor losses, and the vanquished gains."

CXXV "If this condition please not, other course Which ill thou canst refuse, I offer thee," (Marphisa cried): "If thou shalt me unhorse In this our tourney, she remains with me: But if I win, I give her thee parforce. Then prove we now who shall without her be. Premised, if loser, thou shalt be her guide, Wherever it may please the dame to ride."

CXXVI "And be it so," Zerbino cried, and wheeled Swiftly his foaming courser for the shock, And rising in his stirrups scowered the field, Firm in his seat, and smote, with levelled stock, For surer aim, the damsel in mid-shield; But she sate stedfast as a metal rock, And at the warrior's morion thrust so well, She clean out-bore him senseless from the sell.

CXXVII Much grieved the prince, to whom in other fray The like misfortune had not chanced before, Who had unhorsed some thousands in his day: Now shamed, he thought for ever. Troubled sore, And mute long space upon the ground he lay, And, when 'twas recollected, grieved the more, That he had promised, and that he was bound, To accompany the hag where'er she wound.

CXXVIII Turning about to him the victoress cried, Laughing, "This lady I to thee present, And the more beauty is in her descried, The more that she is thine I am content, Now in my place her champion and her guide. But do not thou thy plighted faith repent, So that thou fail, as promised, to attend The dame, wherever she may please to wend."

CXXIX Without awaiting answer, to career She spurred her horse, and vanished in the wood. Zerbino, deeming her a cavalier, Cried to the crone, "By whom am I subdued?" And, knowing 'twould be poison to his ear, And that it would inflame his angered blood, She in reply, "It was a damsel's blow Which from thy lofty saddle laid thee low.

CXXX "She, for her matchless force, deservedly Usurps from cavalier the sword and lance; And even from the east is come to try Her strength against the paladins of France." Not only was his cheek of crimson dye, Such shame Zerbino felt as his mischance, Little was wanting (so his blushes spread) But all the arms he wore had glowed as red.

CXXXI He mounts, and blames himself in angry wise, In that he had no better kept his seat. Within herself the beldam laughs, and tries The Scottish warrior more to sting and heat. To him for promised convoy she applies; And he, who knows that there is no retreat, Stands like tired courser, who in pensive fit, Hangs down his ears, controlled by spur and bit.

CXXXII And, sighing deeply, cries, in his despair, "Fell Fortune, with what change dost thou repay My loss! she who was fairest of the fair, Who should be mine, by thee is snatched away! And thinkest thou the evil to repair With her whom thou hast given to me this day? Rather than make like ill exchange, less cross It were to undergo a total loss.

CXXXIII "Her, who for virtue and for beauteous form Was never equalled, nor will ever be, Thou on the rocks hast wrecked, in wintry storm, As food for fowls and fishes of the sea; And her who should have fed the earth-bred worm Preserved beyond her date, some ten or score Of years, to harass and torment me more."

CXXXIV So spake Zerbino, and like grief displaid, In his despairing words and woful mien, For such an odious acquisition made, As he had suffered when he lost his queen. The aged woman now, from what he said, Though she before Zerbino had not seen, Perceived 'twas him of whom, in the thieves' hold, Isabel of Gallicia erst had told.

CXXXV If you remember what was said before, This was the hag who 'scaped out of the cave, Where Isabella, who had wounded sore Zerbino's heart, was long detained a slave; Who oft had told how she her native shore Had left, and, launching upon ocean's wave Her frigate, had been wrecked by wind and swell Upon the rocky shallows near Rochelle.

CXXXVI And she to her Zerbino's goodly cheer And gentle features had pourtrayed so well, That the hag hearing him, and now more near, Letter her eyes upon his visage dwell, Discerned it was the youth for whom, whilere, Had grieved at heart the prisoned Isabel; Whose loss she in the cavern more deplored, Than being captive to the murderous horde.

CXXXVII The beldam, hearing what in rage and grief Zerbino vents, perceives the youth to be Deceived, and cheated by the false belief That Isabel had perished in the sea; And though she might have given the prince relief, Knowing the truth, in her perversity What would have made him joyful she concealed, And only what would cause him grief revealed.

CXXXVIII "Hear, you that are so proud," (the hag pursues) "And flout me with such insolence and scorn, You would entreat me fair to have the news I know of her whose timeless death you mourn; But to be strangled would I rather choose, And be into a thousand pieces torn. Whereas if you had made me kinder cheer, Haply from me the secret might you hear."

CXXXIX As the dog's rage is quickly overblown, Who flies the approaching robber to arrest, If the thief proffer piece of bread or bone, Of offer other lure which likes him best; As readily Zerbino to the crone Humbled himself, and burned to know the rest; Who, in the hints of the old woman, read That she had news of her he mourned as dead.

CXL And with more winning mien to her applied, And her did supplicate, entreat, conjure, By men and gods, the truth no more to hide, Did she benign or evil lot endure. The hard and pertinacious crone replied, "Nought shalt thou hear, thy comfort to assure. Isabel has not yielded up her breath, But lives a life she would exchange for death.

CXLI "She, since thou heardest of her destiny, Within few days, has fallen into the power Of more than twenty. If restored to thee, Think now, if thou hast hope to crop her flower." — "Curst hag, how well thou shapest thy history, Yet knowest it is false! Her virgin dower Secure from brutal wrong, would none invade, Though in the power of twenty were the maid."

CXLII Questioning of the maid, he when and where She saw her, vainly asked the beldam hoar, Who, ever restive to Zerbino's prayer, To what she had rehearsed would add no more. The prince in the beginning spoke her fair, And next to cut her throat in fury swore. But prayers and menaces alike were weak; Nor could he make the hideous beldam speak.

CXLIII At length Zerbino to his tongue gave rest, Since speaking to the woman booted nought; Scarcely his heart found room within his breast, Such dread suspicion had her story wrought. He to find Isabella was so pressed, Her in the midst of fire he would have sought; But could not hurry more than was allowed By her his convoy, since he so had vowed.

CXLIV They hence, by strange and solitary way, Rove, as the beldam does her will betoken, Nor climbing, nor descending hill, survey Each other's face, nor any word is spoken. But when the sun upon the middle day Had turned his back, their silence first was broken By cavalier encountered in their way: What followed the ensuing strain will say.

CANTO 21

ARGUMENT Zerbino for Gabrina, who a heart Of asp appears to bear, contends. O'erthrown, The Fleming falls upon the other part, Through cause of that despised and odious crone, He wounded sore, and writhing with the smart, The beldam's treason to the prince makes known, Whose scorn and hatred hence derive new force. Towards loud cries Zerbino spurs his horse.

I No cord I well believe is wound so tight Round chest, nor nails the plank so fastly hold, As Faith enwraps an honourable sprite In its secure, inextricable, fold; Nor holy Faith, it seems, except in white Was mantled over in the days of old; So by the ancient limner ever painted, As by one speck, one single blemish tainted.

II Faith should be kept unbroken evermore, With one or with a thousand men united; As well if given in grot or forest hoar, Remote from town and hamlet, as if plighted Amid a crowd of witnesses, before Tribunal, and in act and deed recited: Nor needs the solemn sanction of an oath: It is sufficient that we pledge our troth.

III And this maintains as it maintained should be, In each emprize the Scottish cavalier, And gives good proof of his fidelity, Quitting his road with that old crone to steer; Although this breeds the youth such misery, As 'twould to have Disease itself as near, Or even Death; but with him heavier weighed That his desire the promise he had made.

IV Of him I told who felt at heart such load, Reflecting she beneath his charge must go, He spake no word; and thus in silent mode Both fared: so sullen was Zerbino's woe. I said how vexed their silence, as they rode, Was broke, when Sol his hindmost wheels did show, By an adventurous errant cavalier, Who in mid pathway met the crone and peer.

V The hag, who the approaching warrior knew, (Hermonides of Holland he was hight) That bore upon a field of sable hue A bar of vermeil tint, transversely dight, Did humbly now to good Zerbino sue, — Her pride abased, and look of haught despite — And him reminded of the promise made, When her Marphisa to his care conveyed.

VI Because as foe to her and hers she knew The knight they were encountering, who had slain Her only brother and her father true; And was advised, the traitor would be fain By her, the remnant of her race, to do What he had perpetrated on the twain. "Woman, while guarded by my arm (he said) I will not thou shouldst any danger dread."

VII As nearer now, the stranger knight espied That face, which was so hateful in his sight, With menacing and savage voice he cried, "Either with me prepare thyself to fight, Or arm thee not on that old woman's side, Who by my hand shall perish, as is right. If thou contendest for her, thou art slain; For such their portion is who wrong maintain."

VIII Him young Zerbino answered courteously, Twas sign of evil and ungenerous will, And corresponded not with chivalry, That he a woman should desire to kill; Yet if the knight persists, he will not flee — But bids him well consider first how ill 'Twould sound, that he, a gentle knight and good, Should wish to dip his hand in woman's blood.

IX This and yet more he vainly says; nor stand They idle long; from word they pass to deed; And having compassed on the level land Enough of ground, encounter on the mead. Not fired in some rejoicing, from the hand Discharged, so fast the whistling rockets speed, As the two coursers bear the cavaliers To hurtle in mid space with rested spears.

X Hermonides of Holland levelled low, And for the youth's left flank the stroke intended; But his weak lance was shivered by the blow, And little the opposing Scot offended: But vain was not the spear-thrust of his foe, Who bored his opposite's good shield, and rended His shoulder, by the lance pierced through and through, And good Hermonides on earth o'erthrew.

XI Thinking him slain who only lay amazed, By pity prest, Zerbino leapt to ground, And from his deathlike face the vizor raised; And he, as wakened out of sleep profound, In silence, hard upon Zerbino gazed; Then cried, "It does not me, in truth, confound, To think that I am overthrown by thee, Who seem'st the flower of errant chivalry.

XII "But it with reason grieves me this is done Upon account of a false woman's spite; Whose wicked cause I know not why you own, An office ill according with your might: And when to you the occasion shall be known Which urges me her wickedness to quite, Whene'er you think on it, you will repent How she by you was saved, and I was shent.

XIII "And if enough of breath, although I fear The contrary, is left me to expound Her evil actions, I shall make appear She in all guilt transgresses every bound. I had a brother once: the youthful peer Set out from Holland's isle, our natal ground, To serve Heraclius, 'mid his knights arrayed, Who then the Grecian empire's sceptre swayed.

XIV "Brother in arms and bosom-friend installed Here was he by a baron of that court, Who, in a pleasant site, and strongly walled, On Servia's distant frontier had a fort. Argaeus he of whom I tell was called, Husband of that ill hag, whom in such sort He loved, as passed all mean, and misbecame One of his worth and honourable fame.

XV "But she, more volatile than leaf, when breeze Of autumn most its natural moisture dries, And strips the fluttering foliage from the trees, Which, blown about, before its fury flies, Changes her humour, and her husband sees, Whom she some time had loved, with other eyes, And in her every wish and every thought Schemes how my brother's love may best be bought.

XVI "But not Acroceraunus fronts the brine, — Ill-famed — against whose base the billow heaves, Nor against Boreas stands the mountain pine, That has a hundred times renewed its leaves, And towering high on Alp or Apennine, With its fast root the rock as deeply cleaves, So firmly as the youth resists the will Of that foul woman, sink of every ill.

XVII "Now, as it oft befalls a cavalier Who seeks and finds adventure, high and low, It happened that my gentle brother near His comrade's fort was wounded by a foe; Where often, uninvited by the peer, He guested, was his host with him or no; And thither he resorted from the field, There to repose until his wounds were healed.