XVIII "While there he wounded lay, upon some need It chanced Argaeus was compelled to ride. Quickly that wanton, from his presence freed, As was her use, my brother's fealty tried. But he, as one unstained in thought and deed, So fell a goad no longer would abide; And to preserve his faith, as lures increased, Of many evils chose what seemed the least.

XIX "To break communion with the cavalier, To him — of many — seemed the lightest ill, And go so far, that wanton should not hear More of his name: this purpose to fulfil Was honester (though quitting one so dear Was hard) than to content her evil will, Of her foul wishes to her lord impart, Who cherished her as fondly as his heart.

XX "And though yet smarting with his wounds and pined, He dons his arms, and from the tower departs; And wanders thence with firm and constant mind, Ne'er to return again into those parts. But nought availed the purpose he designed; His projects Fortune baffled with new arts. This while, behold! the castellain returned, And bathed in bitter tears the wife discerned.

XXI "And with flushed face, and hair in disarray, He asks of her what had disturbed her mood; Who, ere she in reply a word will say, Is vainly more than once to answer wooed; And all the while is thinking in what way The knight can best with vengeance be pursued. And well it suited with her fickle vein, Lightly to change her love into disdain.

XXII " 'Ah! why should I conceal (in fine she cried) The fault committed while you were away? For though I it from all the world should hide, This would my conscience to myself bewray. The soul, which is with secret evil dyed, Does with such penitence its fault appay, As every corporal sufferance exceeds That thou couldst deal me for my evil deeds;

XXIII " 'If evil be the deed, when done parforce. But, be it what it may, the mischief know; Then, with my sword from this polluted corse, Delivered, let my spotless spirit go; And quench these wretched eyes, which in remorse, I, if I lived, on earth must ever throw, As the least penance of so foul a blame, And, look on whom they may, must blush for shame.

XXIV " 'My honour has been ruined by thy mate, Who to this body violence has done, And fearing lest I all to thee relate, Without farewell the graceless churl is gone.' She by this story made her husband hate The youth, than whom before was dearer none. Argaeus credits all, without delay Arms him, and, breathing vengeance, posts away.

XXV "In knowledge of that country not to seek, He overtook the knight in little space; For my poor brother, yet diseased and weak, Rode, unsuspicious, at an easy pace; Argaeus, eager his revenge to wreak, Assailed him straight in a sequestered place. My brother would excuse him if he might, But his indignant host insists on fight.

XXVI "This one was sound and full of new disdain, That weak and friendly, as aye wont to be: My brother was ill fitted to sustain His altered comrade's new-born enmity. Philander, then unmeriting such pain, (So was the stripling named, described by me) Not gifted with the power to undergo Such fierce assault, was taken by the foe.

XXVII " 'Forbid it, Heaven! I should be led astray So by just wrath and thy iniquity, (To him Argaeus cried) as thee to slay, Who loved thee once, and certes thou lovedst me, Though in the end thou ill didst this display, I yet desire this ample world may see That, measured by my deeds, I rank above Thyself in hate as highly as in love.

XXVIII " 'In other mode shall I chastise the deed, Than spilling more of thine ill blood.' The peer, This said, commands his followers, on a steed, Of verdant boughs composed to place a bier, And with the knight half-lifeless homeward speed, And in a tower enclose the cavalier; There dooms the guiltless stripling to remain, And suffer prisonment's perpetual pain.

XXIX "Yet nothing but his former liberty Thence to depart was wanting to the knight; In all the rest, as one at large and free, He ordered, and was still obeyed aright. But that ill dame her former phantasy Pursuing ever with unwearied sprite, Having the keys, repaired nigh every day To the close turret where the prisoner lay.

XXX "And evermore my brother she assailed, And with more boldness prest her former suit. 'Mark what to thee fidelity availed!' (She cries) 'which all mere perfidy repute. With what triumphant joy shalt thou be hailed! What noble spoils are thine, what happy fruit! Oh what a worthy guerdon is thy meed! Branded by all men for a traitor's deed!

XXXI " 'How well thou mightst have given, and without stain Of thine own honour, what I sought of thee! Now of so rigorous mood the worthy gain Have and enjoy. In close captivity Thou art; nor ever hope to break thy chain, Unless thou soften thy obduracy. But, if compliant, I a mean can frame To render thee thy liberty and fame.'

XXXII " 'No, no; have thou no hope,' (replied the knight,) 'That my true faith shall ever change, although It thus should happen that, against all right, I should so hard a sentence undergo. Let the world blame. Enough that in HIS sight — Who sees and judges every thing below, And in HIS grace divine my fame can clear — My innocence unsullied shall appear.

XXXIII " 'Does not Argaeus deem enough to sty Me in his prison, let him take away This noisome life. Nor yet may Heaven deny Its meed, though ill the world my work appay. And yet he who condemns me may, when I Am parted from this tenement of clay, Perceive that he has wronged me in the end, And shall bewail when dead his faithful friend.'

XXXIV "Thus oftentimes that shameless woman prest The good Philander, but obtained no fruit. Nursing her blind desires, which knew not rest In seeking what her wicked love may boot, She her old vices, in her inmost breast, Ransacks for what may best the occasion suit, And sifts them all: then, having overrun A thousand evil thoughts, resolved on one.

XXXV "Six months she waited ere again she sought The prisoner's tower, as she was wont before: From which the sad Philander hoped and thought That love to him the dame no longer bore. Lo! Fortune for her an occasion wrought, (To evil deed propitious evermore) To give effect, with memorable ill, To her irrational and evil will.

XXXVI "The husband had an ancient feud with one Who was by name Morando hight the fair; Who even within the fort would often run In its lord's absence; but the knight's repair At the wide distance of ten miles would shun, Was he assured the castellain was there: Who now, to lure him thither, bruited how He for Jerusalem was bound by vow.

XXXVII "Said he would go; and went. Thus each who spies His outset, of his journey spreads the fame: Nor he, who only on his wife relies, Trusts any with his purpose but the dame, And home returned when dusky waxed the skies; Nor ever, save at evening, thither came; And with changed ensigns, at the dawn of day, Unseen of any, always went his way.

XXXVIII "He now on this side, now on the other side, Roved round his castle but to ascertain If credulous Morando, who to ride Thither was wonted, would return again. All day he in the forest used to hide, And, when he saw the sun beneath the main, Came to the tower, and, through a secret gate, Was there admitted by his faithless mate.

XXXIX "Thus every one, except his consort ill, Argaeus many miles away suppose: She, when 'tis time her errand to fulfil, Hatching new mischief, to my brother goes. Of tears she has a ready shower at will, Which from her eyes into her bosom flows, ' — Where shall I succour find, now needed most, So that my honour be not wholly lost,

XL " 'And, with my own, my wedded lord's?' (she cries;) 'I should feel no alarm, if he were here. Thou knowst Morando, know if deities Or men he in Argaeus' absence fear. He at this time tries all extremities; Nor servant have I but by threat or prayer He him to further his desire has swayed; Nor know I whither to recur for aid.

XLI " 'Of my lord's absence hearing the report, And that he would not quickly homeward fare, He had the insolence within my court, Upon no other pretext to repair; Who, were my absent lord within his fort, So bold a deer not only would not dare, But would not deem himself secure withal, By Heaven! at three miles' distance from his wall.

XLII " 'And what he erst by messenger had sought, From me to-day has sued for face to face; And in such manner that long time I thought Dishonour must have followed and disgrace; And if I had not humbly him besought, And feigned to yield to him with ready grace, He haply would have ravished that by force, Which he expects to win by milder course.

XLIII " 'I promise, not designing to comply, For void is contract made in fear; alone From his ill purpose would I put him by, And what he then parforce would else have done. So stands the case: the single remedy Lies in yourself: my honour else is gone, And that of my Argaeus; which as dear, Or more so, than your own you vowed whilere.

XLIV " 'If you refuse me, I shall say, you show That you have not the faith which you pretended, But that in cruelty you said me no, When vainly were my tears on you expended, And no wise for Argaeus' sake, although With this pretext you have yourself defended. Our loves bad been concealed and free from blame; But here I stand exposed to certain shame.'

XLV " 'To me such preface needs not (said anew The good Philander), bound by amity To my Argaeus still; thy pleasure shew: I what I ever was will be, and I, Although from him I bear such ill undue, Accuse him not; for him would I defy Even death itself; and let the world, allied With my ill destiny, against me side!'

XLVI "The impious woman answered, ' 'Tis my will Thou slay him who would do us foul despite; Nor apprehend to encounter any ill: For I the certain mean will tell aright. He will return, his purpose to fulfil, At the third hour, when darkest is the night; And, at a preconcerted signal made, Be without noise by me within conveyed.

XLVII " 'Let it not irk thee to await the peer Within my chamber, where no light will be; Till I shall make him doff his warlike gear, And, almost naked, yield him up to thee.' So did his wife into that quicksand steer Her hapless husband (it appears to me) If wife she rightly could be called; more fell And cruel than a fury sprung from hell.

XLVIII "She drew my brother forth, that guilty night, With his good arms in hand, and him again Secreted in the chamber without light, Till thither came the wretched castellain. As it was ordered, all fell out aright, For seldom ill design is schemed in vain. So fell Argaeus by Philander's sword, Who for Morando took the castle's lord.

XLIX "One blow divided head and neck; for nought Was there of helm, the warrior to defend. Without a struggle was Argaeus brought To his unhappy life's disastrous end, And he who slew him never had such thought, Nor this would have believed: to aid his friend Intent, (strange chance!) he wrought him in that blow The worst that could be done by mortal foe.

L "When now, unknown, on earth Argaeus lay, My brother to Gabrina gave the blade, (So was she named) who lived but to betray. She, who discovery had till then delayed, Wills that Philander with a light survey The man whom he on earth has lifeless laid, And she, with the assistance of the light, Shows him Argaeus in the murdered wight.

LI "And threatens, save he with desires comply To which her bosom had been long a prey, What he would be unable to deny She to the assembled household will display, And he like traitor and assassin die, Upon her tale, in ignominious way: And minds him fame is not to be despised, Albeit so little life by him be prized.

LII "Philander stood oppressed with grief and fear, When his mistake to him the woman showed, And to have slain her in his wrath went near, And long be doubted, so his choler glowed; And, but that Reason whispered in his ear That he was in an enemy's abode, For lack of faulchion in his empty sheath, He would have torn her piece-meal with his teeth.

LIII "As sometimes vessel by two winds which blow From different points is vext upon the main, And now one speeds the bark an-end, and now Another squall impels her back again; Still on her poop assailed, or on her prow, Till she before the strongest flies amain: Philander, so distraught by two designs, Takes what he pregnant with least ill opines.

LIV "Reason demonstrates with what peril fraught His case, not more with death than lasting stain, If in the castle were that murder taught; Nor any time has he to sift his brain. Will he or nill he, in conclusion nought Is left him but the bitter cup to drain. Thus in his troubled heart prevailing more, His fear his resolution overbore.

LV "The fear of shameful punishment's pursuit Made him with many protestations swear To grant in every thing Gabrina's suit, If from the fortilage they safely fare. So plucks that impious dame, parforce, the fruit Of her desires, and thence retreat the pair. Thus home again the young Philander came, Leaving behind him a polluted name;

LVI "And deeply graven in his bosom bore The image of his friend so rashly slain; By this to purchase, to his torment sore, A Progne, a Medea; impious gain! — And but his knightly faith, and oaths he swore, Were to his fury as a curbing rein, From him when safe she would have met her fate; But lived subjected to his bitterest hate.

LVII "Thenceforth he nevermore was seen to smile: All his discourse was sad, and still ensued Sobs from his breast; afflicted in the style Of vext Orestes, when he in his mood Had slain his mother and Aegysthus vile; By vengeful furies for the deed pursued. Till broken by the ceaseless grief he fed, He sickened and betook himself to bed.

LVIII "Now in the harlot, when she had discerned This other set by her so little store, The former amorous flame was quickly turned Into despiteous rage and hatred sore; Nor with less wrath she towards my brother burned Than for Argaeus she had felt before; And she disposed herself, in treasons versed, To slay her second husband like the first.

LIX "Of a deceitful leech she made assay, Well fitted for the work she had in hand, Who better knew what deadly poisons slay Than he the force of healing syrup scanned; And promised him his service to repay With a reward exceeding his demand, When he should, with some drink of deadly might, Of her detested husband rid her sight.

LX "In presence of myself and more beside, The wicked elder, with his deadly dole, Approaching my unhappy brother, cried, 'It was a sovereign drink to make him whole.' But here a new device Gabrina tried, And, ere the sickly man could taste the bowl, To rid her of accomplice in the deed, Or to defraud him of his promised meed;

LXI "Seized on his hand, the instant he presented The poison to my brother. 'Ill my fear, (Exclaimed the dame) by you would be resented, Excited for a spouse I hold so dear. I, that the beverage has not been fermented With evil drug and poisonous, will be clear; Nor deem it meet that you to him convey The proffered bowl, unless you take the say.'

LXII "In what condition think you, sir, remained The wretched elder by his fears opprest? Thus by the woman's suddenness constrained, He had no time for thinking what were best. He, lest more doubt of him be entertained, Tastes of the chalice, at Gabrina's hest; And the sick man, emboldened so, drinks up All the remainder of the poisoned cup.

LXIII "As the trained hawk of crooked talon who Clutches the partridge, when about to eat, Is by the dog, she deems her comrade true, O'ertaken and defrauded of the meat; So on ill gain intent, the leech, in lieu Of the expected aid, received defeat. Hear, thus, what sovereign wickedness will dare, And be like fate each greedy miscreant's share!

LXIV "This past and done, the leech would homeward speed, That he, to counteract the pest he bore Within his bowels, in this fearful need, Might use some secret of his cunning lore; But this the wicked dame would not concede, Forbidding him to issue thence before His patient's stomach should the juice digest, And its restoring power be manifest.

LXV "No prayer will move, nor offered price will buy The woman's leave to let him thence depart. The desperate man who saw that death was nigh, And sure to follow, quickly changed his part; And told the story to the standers-by; Nor could she cover it with all her art. Thus what he wont to do by many a one, That goodly doctor by himself has done;

LXVI "And follows with his soul my brother true, That hence, already freed, was gone before. We, the assistants, that the matter knew From the old man who lingered little more, Took that abominable monster, who More cruel was than beast in forest hoar, And, prisoned in a darksome place, reserved To perish in the fire, as she deserved."

LXVII So said Hermonides, and had pursued His tale, and told how she from prison fled; But suffered from his wound a pang so shrewd, He fell reversed upon his grassy bed. Meanwhile two squires, who served him in the wood, A rustic bier of sturdy branches spread. Their master upon this the servants lay, Who could not thence be borne in other way.

LXVIII Zerbino, in excuse, assured the peer, He grieved so good a knight to have offended; But, as was still the use of cavalier, Had guarded her who in his guidance wended; Nor had he else preserved his honour clear: For when the dame was to his care commended, Her to defend his promise he had plight From all men, to the utmost of his might.

LXIX He, if he might, is any thing beside, Would readily assist him in his need. — His only wish, (the cavalier replied,) Was, he might be from ill Gabrina freed, Ere him some mighty mischief should betide, Of future penitence the bitter seed. Gabrina keeps on earth her downcast eye; For ill the simple truth admits reply.

LXX Zerbino thence, upon the promised way, With the old woman in his escort, went, And inly cursed her all the livelong day, That in her cause that baron he had shent. And having heard the knight her guilt display, Who was instructed in her evil bent, He — if before he had her at despite — So loathed her, she was poison to his sight.

LXXI Well read in young Zerbino's hate, the dame Would not by him in malice be outdone, Nor bated him an inch, but in that game Of deadly hatred set him two for one. Her face was with the venom in a flame Wherewith her swelling bosom overrun. 'Twas thus in such concord as I say, These through the ancient wood pursued their way.

LXXII When, lo! as it is now nigh eventide, They a mixt sound of blows and outcries hear, Which seem a sign of battle fiercely plied, And (as the deafening noise demonstrates) near. To mark what this might be, towards that side Whence came the tumult, moved the Scottish peer; Nor is in following him Gabrina slow: What chanced in other canto you shall know.

CANTO 22

ARGUMENT Atlantes' magic towers Astolpho wight Destroys, and frees his thralls from prison-cell. Bradamant finds Rogero, who in fight O'erthrows four barons from the warlike sell, When on their way to save an errant knight Doomed to devouring fire: the four who fell For impious Pinnabel maintained the strife, Whom, after, Bradamant deprives of life.

I Ye courteous dames, and to your lovers dear, You that are with one single love content; Though, 'mid so many and many, it is clear Right few of you are of such constant bent; Be not displeased at what I said whilere, When I so bitterly Gabrina shent, Nor if I yet expend some other verse In censure of the beldam's mind perverse.

II Such was she; and I hide not what is true; So was enjoined me for a task by one Whose will is law; therefore is honour due To constant heart throughout my story done. He who betrayed his master to the Jew For thirty pence, nor Peter wronged, nor John, Nor less renowned is Hypermnestra's fame, For her so many wicked sisters' shame.

III For one I dare to censure in my lays, For so the story wills which I recite, On the other hand, a hundred will I praise, And make their virtue dim the sun's fair light; But turning to the various pile I raise, (Gramercy! dear to many) of the knight Of Scotland I was telling, who hard-by Had heard, as was rehearsed, a piercing cry.

IV He entered, 'twixt two hills, a narrow way, From whence was heard the cry; nor far had hied, Ere to a vale he came shut out from day, Where he before him a dead knight espied. Who I shall tell; but first I must away From France, in the Levant to wander wide, Till I the paladin Astolpho find, Who westward had his course from thence inclined.

V I in the cruel city left the peer, Whence, with the formidable bugle's roar, He had chased the unfaithful people in their fear, And has preserved himself from peril sore; And with the sound had made his comrades rear Then sail, and fly with noted scorn that shore. Now following him, I say, the warrior took The Armenian road, and so that land forsook.

VI He, after some few days, in Natoly Finds himself, and towards Brusa goes his ways; Hence wending, on the hither side o' the sea, Makes Thrace; through Hungary by the Danube lays His course, and as his horse had wings to flee, Traverses in less time than twenty days Both the Moravian and Bohemian line; Threaded Franconia next, and crost the Rhine.

VII To Aix-la-Chapelle thence, through Arden's wood, Came and embarked upon the Flemish strand. To sea, with southern breeze his vessel stood; And, so the favouring wind her canvas fanned, That he, at little distance, Albion viewed By noon, and disembarked upon her land. He backed his horse, and so the rowels plied, In London he arrived by even-tide.

VIII Here, learning afterwards that Otho old Has lain for many months in Paris-town, And that anew nigh every baron bold Has after his renowned example done, He straightway does for France his sails unfold, And to the mouth of Thames again is gone. Whence issuing forth, with all his canvas spread, For Calais he directs the galley's head.

IX A breeze which, from the starboard blowing light, Had tempted forth Astolpho's bark to sea, By little and by little, waxed in might, And so at last obtains the mastery, The pilot is constrained to veer outright, Lest by the billows swampt his frigate be, And he, departing from his first design, Keeps the bark straight before the cresting brine.

X Now to the right, now to the other hand, Sped by the tempest, through the foaming main, The vessel ran; she took the happy land At last nigh Rouen; and forthwith, in chain And plate Astolpho cased, and girt with brand, Bade put the saddle upon Rabicane; Departed thence, and (what availed him more Than thousands armed) with him his bugle bore;

XI And traversing a forest, at the feet Of a fair hill, arrived beside a font, What time the sheep foregoes his grassy meat, Penned in the cabin or the hollow mount; And, overcome by feverish thirst and heat, Lifted the weighty morion from his front; Tethered his courser in the thickest wood, And, with intent to drink, approached the flood.

XII His lips he had not wetted in its bed Before a youthful rustic, ambushed near, Sprang from a copse, backed Rabican, and fled With the good courser of the cavalier. Astolpho hears the noise and lifts his head, And, when he sees his mighty loss so clear, Satiate, although he had not drunk, upstarts, And after the young churl in fury darts.

XIII That robber did not let the courser strain At speed, or he had from the warrior shot; But loosening now and tightening now the rein, Fled at a gallop or a steady trot. From the deep forest issued forth the twain, After long round, and reached in fine the spot Where so many illustrious lords were shent: Worse prisoners they than if in prison pent!

XIV On Rabican, who with the wind might race, The villain sped, within the enchanter's won. Impeded by his shield and iron case, Parforce Astolpho far behind him run; Yet there arrives as well, but every trace Of what the warrior had pursued is gone. He neither Rabican nor thief can meet, And vainly rolls his eyes and plies his feet.

XV He plies his feet, and searches still in vain Throughout the house, hall, bower, or galleried rows: Yet labours evermore, with fruitless pain And care, to find the treacherous churl; nor knows Where he can have secreted Rabicane, Who every other animal outgoes: And vainly searches all day the dome about, Above, below, within it, and without.

XVI He, wearied and confused with wandering wide, Perceived the place was by enchantment wrought, And of the book he carried at his side, By Logistilla given in India, thought; Bestowed, should new enchantment him betide, That needful succour might therein be sought. He to the index turns, and quickly sees What pages show the proper remedies.

XVII I' the book, of that enchanted house at large Was written, and in this was taught the way To foil the enchanter, and to set at large The different prisoners, subject to his sway. Of these illusions and these frauds in charge, A spirit pent beneath the threshold lay; And the stone raised which kept him fast below, With him the palace into smoke would go.

XVIII Astolpho with desire to bring to end An enterprise so passing fair, delays No more, but to the task his force does bend, And prove how much the heavy marble weighs. As old Atlantes sees the knight intend To bring to scorn his art and evil ways, Suspicious of the ill which may ensue, He moves to assail him with enchantments new.

XIX He, with his spells and shapes of devilish kind, Makes the duke different from his wont appear; To one a giant, and to one a hind, To other an ill-visaged cavalier; Each, in the form which in the thicket blind The false enchanter wore, beholds the peer. So that they all, with purpose to have back What the magician took, the duke attack.

XX The Child, Gradasso, Iroldo, Bradamant, Prasildo, Brandimart, and many more, All, cheated by this new illusion, pant To slay the English baron, angered sore; But he abased their pride and haughty vaunt, Who straight bethought him of the horn be bore. But for the succour of its echo dread, They, without fail, had laid Astolpho dead.

XXI But he no sooner has the bugle wound And poured a horrid larum, than in guise Of pigeons at the musquet's scaring sound, The troop of cavaliers affrighted flies. No less the necromancer starts astound, No less he from his den in panic hies; Troubled and pale, and hurrying evermore Till out of hearing of the horrid roar

XXII The warder fled; with him his prisoned train, And many steeds as well are fled and gone; (These more than rope is needed to restrain) Who after their astounded masters run, Scared by the sound; nor cat nor mouse remain, Who seem to hear in it, "Lay on, lay on." Rabican with the rest had broke his bands, But that he fell into Astolpho's hands.

XXIII He, having chased the enchanter Moor away, Upraised the heavy threshold from the ground; Beneath which, figures and more matters lay, That I omit; desirous to confound The spell which did the magic dome upstay, The duke made havock of whate'er he found, As him the book he carried taught to do: And into mist and smoke all past from view.

XXIV There he found fastened by a golden chain Rogero's famous courser, him I say Given by the wizard, that to the domain Of false Alcina him he might convey: On which, equipt with Logistilla's rein, To France Rogero had retraced his way, And had from Ind to England rounded all The right-hand side of the terrestrial ball.

XXV I know not if you recollect how tied To a tree Rogero left his rein, the day Galaphron's naked daughter from his side Vanished, and him did with that scorn appay. The courser, to his wonder who espied, Returned to him whom he was used to obey; Beneath the old enchanter's care to dwell, And stayed with him till broken was the spell.

XXVI At nought Astolpho could more joyous be Than this; of all things fortunate the best: In that the hippogryph so happily Offered himself; that he might scower the rest, (As much he coveted) of land and sea, And in few days the ample world invest. Him well he knew, how fit for his behoof; For of his feats he had elsewhere made proof.

XXVII Him he that day in India proved, when sped He was by sage Melissa, from the reign Of that ill woman who him, sore bested, Had changed from man to myrtle on the plain; Had marked and noted how his giddy head Was formed by Logistilla to the rein; And saw how well instructed by her care Rogero was, to guide him every where.

XXVIII Minded to take the hippogryph, he flung The saddle on him, which lay near, and bitted The steed, by choosing, all the reins among, This part or that, until his mouth was fitted: For in that place were many bridles hung, Belonging to the coursers which flitted. And now alone, intent upon his flight, The thought of Rabicane detained the knight.

XXIX Good cause he had to love that Rabicane, For better horse was not to run with lance, And him had he from the remotest reign Of India ridden even into France: After much thought, he to some friend would fain Present him, rather than so, left to chance, Abandon there the courser, as a prey, To the first stranger who should pass that way.

XXX He stood upon the watch if he could view Some hunter in the forest, or some hind, To whom he might commit the charge, and who Might to some city lead the horse behind. He waited all that day and till the new Had dawned, when, while the twilight yet was blind, He thought he saw, as he expecting stood, A cavalier approaching through the wood.

XXXI But it behoves that, ere the rest I say, I Bradamant and good Rogero find. After the horn had ceased, and, far away, The beauteous pair had left the dome behind, Rogero looked, and knew what till that day He had seen not, by Atlantes rendered blind. Atlantes had effected by his power, They should not know each other till that hour.

XXXII Rogero looks on Bradamant, and she Looks on Rogero in profound surprise That for so many days that witchery Had so obscurred her altered mind and eyes. Rejoiced, Rogero clasps his lady free, Crimsoning with deeper than the rose's dyes, And his fair love's first blossoms, while he clips The gentle damsel, gathers from her lips.

XXXIII A thousand times they their embrace renew, And closely each is by the other prest; While so delighted are those lovers two, Their joys are ill contained within their breast. Deluded by enchantments, much they rue That while they were within the wizard's rest, They should not e'er have one another known, And have so many happy days foregone.

XXXIV The gentle Bradamant, who was i' the vein To grant whatever prudent virgin might, To solace her desiring lover's pain, So that her honour should receive no slight; — If the last fruits he of her love would gain, Nor find her ever stubborn, bade the knight, Her of Duke Aymon through fair mean demand; But be baptized before he claimed her hand.

XXXV Rogero good, who not alone to be A Christian for the love of her were fain, As his good sire had been, and anciently His grandsire and his whole illustrious strain, But for her pleasure would immediately Resign whatever did of life remain, Says, "I not only, if 'tis thy desire, Will be baptized by water, but by fire."

XXXVI Then on his way to be baptized he hied, That he might next espouse the martial may, With Bradamant; who served him as a guide To Vallombrosa's fane, an abbey gray, Rich, fair, nor less religious, and beside, Courteous to whosoever passed that way; And they encountered, issuing from the chase, A woman, with a passing woful face.

XXXVII Rogero, as still courteous, still humane To all, but woman most, when he discerned Her dainty visage furrowed by a rain Of lovely tears, sore pitied her, and burned With the desire to know her grievous pain; And having to the mournful lady turned, Besought her, after fair salute, to show What cause had made her eyes thus overflow.

XXXVIII And she, uplifting their moist rays and bright, Most kindly to the inquiring Child replied; And of the cause of her unhappy plight, Him, since he sought it, fully satisfied. "Thou hast to understand, O gentle knight, My visage is so bathed with tears," she cried, "In pity to a youth condemned to die This very day, within a town hard by.

XXXIX "Loving a gentle lady and a gay, The daughter of Marsilius, king of Spain, And feigning, veiled in feminine array, The modest roll of eye and girlish strain, With her each night the amorous stripling lay, Nor any had suspicion of the twain: But nought so hidden is, but searching eye In the long run the secret will espy.

XL "One first perceived it, and then spoke with two, Those two with more, till to the king 'twas said; Of whom but yesterday a follower true Gave order to surprise the pair in bed, And in the citadel the prisoners new, To separate dungeons in that fortress led; Nor think I that enough of day remains To save the lover from his cruel pains.

XLI "I fled, not to behold such cruelty, For they alive the wretched youth will burn; Nor think I aught could more afflicting be Than such fair stripling's torment to discern, Or that hereafter thing can pleasure me So much, but that it will to trouble turn, If memory retrace the cruel flame Which preyed upon his fair and dainty frame."

XLII Touched deeply, Bradamant his danger hears, In heart sore troubled at the story shown; As anxious for the lover, it appears, As if he were a brother of her own: Nor certes wholly causeless are her fears, As in an after verse will be made known, Then, to Rogero: "Him to keep from harms, Meseems we worthily should turn our arms."

XLIII And to that melancholy damsel said: "Place us but once within the walls, and I, So that the youth be not already dead, Will be your warrant that he shall not die." Rogero, who the kindly bosom read Of Bradamant, still full of piety, Felt himself but all over with desire To snatch the unhappy stripling from the fire.

XLIV And to the maid, whose troubled face apears Bathed with a briny flood, "Why wait we? — need Is here of speedy succour, not of tears. Do you but where the youth is prisoned lead; Him from a thousand swords, a thousand spears, We vow to save; so it be done with speed. But haste you, lest too tardy be our aid, And he be burnt, which succour is delayed."

XLV The haughty semblance and the lofty say Of these, who with such wondrous daring glowed, That hope, which long had ceased to be her stay, Again upon the grieving dame bestowed: But, for she less the distance of the way Dreaded, than interruption of the road, Lest they, through this, should take that path in vain, The damsel stood suspended and in pain.

XLVI Then said: "If to the place our journey lay By the highroad, which is both straight and plain, That we in time might reach it, I should say, Before the fire was lit; but we must strain By path so foul and crooked, that a day To reach the city would suffice with pain; And when, alas! we thither shall have sped, I fear that we shall find the stripling dead."

XLVII "And wherefore take we not the way most near?" Rogero answers; and the dame replies, "Because fast by where we our course should steer, A castle of the Count of Poictiers lies: Where Pinnabel for dame and cavalier Did, three days past, a shameful law devise; Than whom more worthless living wight is none, The Count Anselmo d'Altaripa's son.

XLVIII "No cavalier or lady by that rest Without some noted scorn and injury goes; Both of their coursers here are dispossest, And knight his arms and dame her gown foregoes. No better cavaliers lay lance in rest, Nor have for years in France against their foes, Than four, who for Sir Pinnabel have plight Their promise to maintain the castle's right.

XLIX "Whence first arose the usage, which began But three days since, you now, sir knight, shall hear; And shall the cause, if right or evil, scan, Which moved the banded cavaliers to swear. So ill a lady has the Castellan, So wayward, that she is without a peer: Who, on a day, as with the count she went, I know not whither, by a knight was shent.

L "This knight, as flouted by that bonnibel, For carrying on his croup an ancient dame, Encountered with her champion Pinnabel, Of overweening pride and little fame: Him he o'erturned, made alight as well, And put her to the proof, if sound or lame; — Left her on foot, and had that woman old In the dismounted damsel's garment stoled.

LI "She, who remained on foot, in fell despite, Greedy of vengeance, and athirst for ill, Leagued with the faithless Pinnabel, a wight All evil prompt to further and fulfil, Says she shall never rest by day nor night, Nor ever know a happy hour, until A thousand knights and dames are dispossest Of courser, and of armour, and of vest.

LII "Four puissant knights arrived that very day It happened, at a place of his, and who Had all of them from regions far away Come lately to those parts: so many true And valiant warriors, skilled in martial play, Our age has seen not. These the goodly crew: Guido the savage, but a stripling yet, Gryphon, and Aquilant, and Sansonet!

LIII "Them at the fortilage, of which I told, Sir Pinnabel received with semblance fair, Next seized the ensuing night the warriors bold In bed, nor loosed, till he had made them swear That (he such period fixt) they in his hold Should be his faithful champions for a year And month; and of his horse and arms deprive Whatever cavalier should there arrive.

LIV "And any damsel whom the stranger bore With him, dismount, and strip her of her vest. So, thus surprised, the warlike prisoners swore; So were constrained to observe the cruel hest, Though grieved and troubled: nor against the four, It seems, can any joust, but vails his crest. Knight infinite have come, but one and all, Afoot and without arms have left that Hall.

LV "Their order is, who from the castle hies, The first by lot, shall meet the foe alone, But if he find a champion of such guise As keeps the sell, while he himself is thrown, The rest must undertake the enterprise, Even to the death, against that single one, Ranged in a band. If such each single knight, Imagine the assembled warriors' might!

LVI "Nor stands it with our haste, which all delay, All let forbids, that you beside that tower Be forced to stop and mingle in the fray: For grant that you be conquerors in the stower, (And as your presence warrants well, you may,) 'Tis not a thing concluded in an hour. And if all day he wait our succour, I Much fear the stripling in the fire will die."

LVII "Regard we not this hindrance of our quest," Rogero cried, "But do we what we may! Let HIM who rules the heavens ordain the rest, Or Fortune, if he leave it in her sway; To you shall by this joust be manifest If we can aid the youth; for whom to-day They on a ground so causeless and so slight, As you to us rehearsed, the fire will light."

LVIII Rogero ceased; and in the nearest way The damsel put the pair without reply: Nor these beyond three miles had fared, when they Reached bridge and gate, the place of forfeitry, Of horse and arms and feminine array, With peril sore of life. On turret high, Upon first sight of them, a sentinel Beat twice upon the castle's larum-bell.

LIX And lo, in eager hurry from the gate An elder trotting on hackney made! And he approaching cried, "Await, await! — Hola! halt, sirs, for here a fine is paid: And I to you the usage shall relate, If this has not to you before been said." And to the three forthwith began to tell The use established there by Pinnabel.

LX He next proceeds, as he had wont before To counsel other errant cavalier. "Unrobe the lady," (said the elder hoar,) "My sons, and leave your steeds and martial geer; Nor put yourselves in peril, and with four Such matchless champions hazard the career. Clothes, arms, and coursers every where are rife; But not to be repaired is loss of life."

LXI " — No more!" (Rogero said) "No more! for I Am well informed of all, and hither speed With the intention, here by proof to try If, what my heart has vouched, I am in deed. For sign or threat I yield not panoply, If nought beside I hear, nor vest nor steed. And this my comrade, I as surely know, These for mere words as little will forego.

LXII "But let me face to face, by Heaven, espy Those who would take my horse and arms away; For we have yet beyond that hill to hie, And little time can here afford to stay." "Behold the man," that ancient made reply, "Clear of the bridge!" — Nor did in this missay; For thence a warrior pricked, who, powdered o'er With snowy flowers, a crimson surcoat wore.

LXIII Bradamant for long time with earnest prayer, For courtesy the good Rogero prest, To let her from his sell the warrior bear, Who with white flowers had purfled o'er his vest. But moved him not; and to Rogero's share Must leave, and do herself, what liked him best. He willed the whole emprize his own should be, And Bradamant should stand apart to see.

LXIV The Child demanded of that elder, who Was he that from the gate first took his way, And he, " 'Tis Sansonet; of crimson hue, I know his surcoat, with white flowers gay." Without a word exchanged, the warlike two Divide the ground, and short is the delay. For they against each other, levelling low Their spears, and hurrying sore their coursers, go.

LXV This while had issued from the fortress near, With many footmen girt, Sir Pinnabel, All ready to despoil the cavalier, Who in the warlike joust should void is sell. At one another spurred in bold career The knights, with their huge lances rested well. Up to the points nigh equal was each stick, Of stubborn native oak, and two palms thick.

LXVI Sansonet, of such staves, above five pair Had made them sever from the living stock, In neighboring wood, and bade his followers bear Two of them hither, destined for that shock: Such truncheons to withstand, well needed-were A shield and cuirass of the diamond rock. One he had made them give his foe, and one He kept himself, the present course to run.

LXVII With these which might the solid anvil bore, (So well their ends were pointed) there and here, Each aiming at the shield his foeman wore, The puissant warriors shocked in mid career. That of Rogero, wrought with magic lore, By fiends, had little from the stroke to fear: I of the buckler speak Atlantes made, Of whose rare virtues I whilere have said.

LXVIII I have already said, the enchanted light Strikes with such force on the beholder's eyes, That, at the shield's discovery, every wight Is blinded, or on earth half lifeless lies. Wherefore, well mantled with a veil, the knight Keeps it, unless some passing need surprise: Impassive is the shield as well believed, Since it no damage in the shock received.

LXIX The other by less skilful artist wrought, Did not so well that weightless blow abide, But, as if smit by thunder, in a thought, Gave way before the steel, and opened wide; Gave way before the griding steel, which sought The arm beneath, by this ill fortified: So that Sir Sansonet was smote, and reeled, In his departure, unhorsed upon the field.

LXX And this was the first comrade of the train That of the tower maintained the usage fell, Who there had failed another's spoil to gain, And voided in the joust his knightly sell. Who laughs, as well will sometimes have to plain, And find that Fortune will by fits rebel. Anew the warder on his larum beats, And to the other knights the sign repeats.

LXXI This while Sir Pinnabello had drawn near To Bradamant, and prayed that she would shew What warrior had his knight in the career Smith with such prowess. That the guerdon due To his ill deeds might wait the cavalier, God's justice that ill-doer thither drew On the same courser, which before the Cheat From Bradamant had taken by deceit.

LXXII 'Twas now exactly the eighth month was ended, Since, if you recollect, upon his way, The faithless Maganzese, with whom she wended, Cast into Merlin's tomb the martial may; When her a bough, which fell with her, defended From death, or her good Fortune, rather say; And Pinnabel bore off her courser brave, Deeming the damsel buried in the cave.

LXXIII The courser, and, through him, the cavalier, Bradamant knew to be the wicked Count, And, having heard him, and perused him near, With more attentive eye and front to front — "This is the man," (the damsel said) " 'tis clear, Who erst designed me outrage and affront. Lo! him the traitor's sin doth hither speed, Of all his treasons to receive the meed."

LXXIV To threaten him with vengeance, and to lay Hands on her sword and charge him now, was done All in a thought; but first she barred the way By which he might his fortilage have won. To earth himself like fox, in his dismay, Sir Pinnabel has every hope foregone. He screaming loud, nor ever making head Against the damsel, through the forest fled.

LXXV Pale and dismayed his spurs the caitiff plied Whose last hope of escape in flight was found; While with her ready sword, Dordona's pride Was at his flank, and prest him in his round, Hunting him close and ever fast beside: Loud is the uproar, and the woods resound. Nothing of this is at the castle kenned, For only to Rogero all attend.

LXXVI The other three, who from the fortress came, This while had issued forth upon their way, And brought with them the ill-accustomed dame, Who made wayfarers that ill use obey. In all (who rather than prolong with blame Their life, would choose to perish in the fray), The kindling visage burns, and heart is woe, That to assail one man so many go.

LXXVII The cruel courtezan by whom was made, And by whose hest maintained, that evil rite, Reminds the warriors that they are arrayed By oath and pact, to avenge her in the fight. "If with this lance alone thy foes are laid On earth, why should I band with other knight?" (Guido the savage said) "and, if I lie, Off with my head, for I consent to die."

LXXVIII So Aquilant, so Gryphon. For the twain Singly against a single foe would run; And rather would be taken, rather slain, Than he should be assailed by more than one. To them exclaimed the woman: "Why in vain Waste you so many words, where fruit is none? I brought you here that champion's arms to take, Not other laws and other pacts to make.

LXXIX "You should have offered, when in prison-cell, This your excuse; which now too late is made. 'Tis yours the law's observance to compel, And not with lying tongue your oath evade." " — Behold! the arms; behold, with a new sell And cloth, the goodly steed!" Rogero said, "Behold with these, as well, the damsel's vest! If these you covet, why your course arrest?"

LXXX She of the castle presses on this side, On that Rogero rates, and calls them on; Till they parforce, t'wards him, together hied: But red with shame, are to the encounter gone. Foremost appeared 'mid those three knights of pride, Of Burgundy's good marquis either son. But Guido, who was borne on heavier steed, Came at some interval, with tardier speed.

LXXXI With the same lance with which he overbore Sir Sansonet, Rogero came to fight; Well-covered with the shield which heretofore Atlantes used on Pyrenean height; I say the enchanted buckler, which, too sore For human sufferance, dazed the astonished sight: To which Rogero, as a last resource, In the most pressing peril had recourse.

LXXXII Although three times alone the Child was fain (And, certes sore bested) this to display; Twice when he from the wanton Fairy's reign Was to that soberer region on his way! Last, when the unsated Orc upon the main, By this astounded, 'mid the sea-foam lay; Which would have fed upon the naked maid, So cruel to the Child who brought her aid.

LXXXIII Save these three times, he has preserved the shield Beneath its veil, but covered in such wise That it may quickly be to sight revealed, If he in need of its good succour lies. With this, as said before, he came a-field As boldly, as if those three enemies, Who were arrayed before him, had appeared Yet less than little children to be feared.

LXXXIV Rogero shocked the valiant Gryphon, where The border of the buckler joined the sight, Who seemed as he would fall, now here, now there, And, from his courser far, last fell outright. He at the shield had aimed, but smote not fair The mark; and (for Rogero's orb was bright And smooth) the hissing weapon slipt, and wrought Other effect than was in Gryphon's thought.

LXXXV It rent and tore the veil which served to hide The lightning's fearful and enchanted rays; Which, without blinded eyes, can none abide Upright, nor refuge is for them who gaze. Aquilant, who was at his brother's side, Tore off the rest, and made the buckler blaze: The splendour struck the valiant brothers blind, And Guido in their rear, who spurred behind.

LXXXVI These here, or there, to earth astonished reel; Nor eyes alone are dazzled by the light, But every sense astounds the flaming steel. Unconscious of the issue of the fight, Rogero turned his horse, and, in the wheel, Handled his sword, so good to thrust and smite; And none descried his fury to oppose; For in the charge dismounted were his foes.

LXXXVII The knights, together with the footmen all, And women, who had from the castle hied, Nor less the coursers panting with their fall, As if about to die, the warrior spied. He wondered first, and next perceived the pall Of silk was handing down on the left side; I say the pall, in which he used to lap His shield, the evil cause of that mishap.

LXXXVIII He quickly turns, and, turning, rolls his eyes, In hopes to view his well-loved martial maid; And thitherward, without delay, he hies Where, when the joust began, the damsel stayed. Not finding her, it is the Child's surmise That she is gone to bear the stripling aid; Fearing he may be burnt, while they their journey So long delay, retarded by that tourney.

LXXXIX He saw the damsel, stretched among the rest Who him had thither guided: as she lay, He took and placed her, yet with sleep opprest, Before him, and, sore troubled, rode away. He with a mantle, which above her vest She wore, concealed the enchanted buckler's ray: And to the maid restored, when 'twas concealed, Her senses, which were ravished by the shield.

XC Away Rogero posted with the dame, And did not date his crimsoned visage raise; Since every one, it seemed to him, might blame With right that victory, worthy little praise. "By what amends can I of such a shame (The blushing warrior said) the stain eraze? For 'twill be bruited, all my deeds by sleight Of magic have been done, and not by might."

XCI As, thinking thus, he journeyed on his way, Rogero stumbled upon what he sought; For, in the middle of the track, there lay A well, within the ground profoundly wrought: Whither the thirsty herd, at noon of day, Repaired, their paunches with green forage fraught. Rogero said, " 'Tis now, must I provide, I shame from thee, O shield, no more abide.

XCII "Thee will I keep no more, and this shall be Even the last shame which so on me is thrown:" The Child, so ending his self-colloquy, Dismounting, takes a large and heavy stone; Which to the shield he ties, and bodily Both to the bottom of the well are gone. "Lie buried there for ever, from all eyes, And with thee hidden be my shame!" he cries.

XCIII Filled to the brim with water was the well; Heavy the stone, and heavy was the shield; Nor stopt they till they to the bottom fell, By the light, liquid element concealed. Fame was not slow the noble act to swell, But, wandering wide, the deed in brief revealed, And voicing it abroad, with trumpet-sound, Told France and Spain and all the countries round.

XCIV When that so strange adventure to the rest Of the wide world, from mouth to mouth was blown, Knights out of number undertook the quest, From neighbouring parts and distant; but unknown To all remained the forest which possessed The spring wherein the virtuous shield was thrown: For she who told the action, would not say Where was the well, nor in what land it lay.

XCV Upon Rogero's parting thence, where fell The four good champions of that evil law, Made by the castle's lord Sir Pinnabel, By him discomfited like men of straw, — The shield withdrawn — he had removed as well The light, which quelled their sight and minds who saw; And those, who, like dead men, on earth had lain, Had risen, full of wonderment, again.

XCVI Nor any thing throughout that livelong day They 'mid themselves but that strange case relate; And how it was in that disastrous fray Each by the horrid light was quelled, debate. While these, discoursing, of the adventure say, Tidings are brought of Pinnabello's fate. That Pinnabel is dead the warriors hear, But learn not who had slain the cavalier.

XCVII Bradamant in close pass, this while, had staid The faithless Pinnabel, and sorely prest; And many times had buried half her blade Within bleeding flanks and heaving breast. When of his crimes the forfeit had been paid By him, the infected country's curse and pest, She from the conscious forest turned away With that good steed the thief had made his prey.

XCVIII She would return where she had left the knight, But never could make out the road anew; And now by valley, now by mountain-height, Wandered well-nigh the ample country through. Yet could she never (such her fortune's spite) Find out the way to join Rogero true. Him in another canto I attend Who loves the tale, to hear my story's end.

CANTO 23

ARGUMENT Astolpho soars in air. Upon account Of Pinnabel is prisoned Scotland's heir: By Roland freed, Frontino Rodomont Takes from Hippalca, trusted to her care. With Mandricardo strives Anglantes' count: Who, next, offended by his lady fair, Into the fury falls, so strange and fell, Which in the world has not a parallel.

I Let each assist the other in his need; Seldom good actions go without their due; And if their just reward should not succeed, At least, nor death, nor shame, nor loss ensue. Who wrongs another, the remembered meed As well shall have, and soon or later rue. That mountains never meet, but that men may, And oft encounter, is an ancient say.

II Now mark what chanced to Pinnabel, the event Of having borne himself so wickedly: He at the last received due punishment, Due and deserved by his iniquity. And God, who for the most is ill content To see the righteous suffer wrongfully, Secured the maid from harm, and will secure All who from every wickedness are pure.

III Pinnabel deemed he to an end had brought, And buried deep in earth, the martial maid; Nor weening to behold her more, less thought To her his treason's forfeit to have paid. Nor profits it the wily traitor ought To be among the forts his father swayed. For Altaripa here its summit rears, Amid rude hills, confining on Poictiers.

IV Anselm in Altaripa held command, The count from whom was sprung this evil seed: Who, to escape from angry Clermont's hand, Of friends and of assistance stood in need. At a hill's foot, with her avenging brand, Bradamant made the worthless traitor bleed; Who found no better succour in the strife Than piteous cry and fruitless prayer for life.

V When she has put to death the treacherous peer, Who to put her to death had erst intent, To seek Rogero she again would steer, But that her cruel fate would not consent; Which, where the wood was loneliest and most drear, To wander by close path the lady sent, Until the western sun withdrew his light, Abandoning the world above to night.

VI Nor knowing where for shelter she should rove, Bradamant in that place resolves to stay, Couched on the verdant herbage of the grove; And, sleeping, now awaits the dawn of day, Now watching Saturn, Venus, Mars, and Jove, And the other wandering gods upon their way: But, whether waking or to sleep resigned, Has aye Rogero present to her mind.

VII With sorrow and repentance oft assailed, She from her inmost heart profoundly sighed, That Anger over Love should have prevailed. "Anger has torn me from my love," (she cried,) "Oh! had I made some note, which had availed, Thither, whence I set out, my steps to guide, When I departed on my ill emprize! Sure I was lorn of memory and of eyes!"

VIII These words and others she in mournful strain Utters, and broods within her heart on more. Meanwhile a wind of sighs, and plenteous rain Of tears, are tokens of her anguish sore. In the east, at last, expected long in vain, The wished for twilight streaked the horizon o'er; And she her courser took, which on the ley Was feeding, and rode forth to meet the day.

IX Nor far had rode, ere from the greenwood-trees She issued, where the dome was erst displayed; And many days her with such witcheries The evil-minded wizard had delayed. Here she Astolpho found, who at full ease A bridle for the Hippogryph had made, And here was standing, thoughtful and in pain To whom he should deliver Rabicane.

X By chance she found him, as the cavalier Had from the helm uncased his head to view; So that when of the dingy forest clear, Fair Bradamant her gentle cousin knew. Him from afar she hailed with joyful cheer, And now more nigh, to embrace the warrior flew; And named herself, and raised her vizor high, And let him plainly who she was espy.

XI None could Astolpho have found any where With whom to leave his horse with more content, As knowing she would guard the steed with care, And to his lord on his return present; And he believed that Heaven had, in its care, Duke Aymon's daughter for this pleasure sent. Her was he wont with pleasure aye to see, But now with more in his necessity.

XII Embracing twice or thrice the cousins stand, Fraternally, each other's neck, and they Had of each other's welfare made demand With much affection, ere the duke 'gan say; "Would I now see the winged people's land, Here upon earth I make too long delay." And opening to the dame the thought he brewed, To her the flying horse Astolpho shewed.

XIII But she scarce marvelled when above the plain She saw the rising steed his wings unfold; Since upon former time, with mastering rein. On him had charged the dame that wizard old; And made her eye and eyelid sorely strain, So hard she gazed, his movements to behold; The day that he bore off, with wonderous range, Rogero on his journey, long and strange.

XIV Astolpho says on her he will bestow His Rabican; so passing swift of kind, That, if the courser started when a bow Was drawn, he left the feathered shaft behind; And will as well his panoply forego, That it may to Mount Alban be consigned: And she for him preserve the martial weed; Since of his arms he has no present need.

XV Bent, since a course in air was to be flown, That he, as best he can, will make him light. Yet keeps the sword and horn; although alone The horn from every risque might shield the knight: But he the lance abandons, which the son Of Galaphron was wont to bear in flight; The lance, by which whoever in the course Was touched, fell headlong hurtling from his horse.

XVI Backed by Astolpho, and ascending slow, The hippogryph through yielding aether flew; And next the rider stirred the courser so, That in a thought he vanished out of view. Thus with his pilot does the patron go, Fearing the gale and rock, till he is through The reefs; then, having left the shore behind, Hoists every sail, and shoots before the wind.

XVII Bradamant, when departed was the peer, Remained distressed in mind; since in what way She knew not her good kinsman's warlike gear And courser to Mount Alban to convey. For on her heart, which they inflame and tear, The warm desire and greedy will yet prey To see the Child; whom she to find once more At Vallombrosa thought, if not before.

XVIII Here standing in suspense, by chance she spied A churl, that came towards her on the plain, Who, at her best, Astolpho's armour tied, As best he might, and laid on Rabicane; She next behind her bade the peasant guide (One courser loaded and one loose) the twain. Two were the steeds; for she had that before, On which his horse from Pinnabel she bore.

XIX To Vallombrosa to direct her way She thought, in hopes to find Rogero there: But, fearing evermore to go astray, Knew not how thither she might best repair. The churl had of the country small assay, And, sure to be bewildered, wend the pair: Yet at a venture thitherward she hies, Where she believes the place of meeting lies.

XX She here and there, as she her way pursued, Turned, but found none to question of the road; She saw at mid-day, issuing from the wood, A fort, nor far removed was the abode, Which on the summit of a mountain stood, And to the lady like Mount Alban showed; And was Mount Alban sure; in which repair One of her brothers and her mother were.

XXI She, when she recognized the place, became Sadder at heart than I have power to say. If she delays, discovered is the dame, Nor thence will be allowed to wend her way: If thence she wends not, of the amorous flame Which so consumes her, she will be the prey, Nor see Rogero more, nor compass aught Which was at Vallombrosa to be wrought.

XXII Some deal she doubted: then to turn her steed, Resolved upon Mount Alban's castle near; And, for she thence her way could deftly read, Her course anew towards the abbey steer. But Fortune, good or evil, had decreed The maid, before she of the vale was clear, Of one of her good brethren should be spied, Alardo named, ere she had time to hide.

XXIII He came from billeting the bands which lay Dispersed about that province, foot and horse; For the surrounding district, to obey King Charlemagne, had raised another force. Embraces brotherly and friendly say, Salutes and kindly cheer, ensue of course; And next into Mount Alban, side by side, They, communing of many matters, ride.

XXIV Bradamant enters Montalbano's seat, Whom Beatrice had mourned, and vainly sought Through spacious France: 'Tis here all welcome sweet, The kiss and clasp of hand, she holds at nought, While her a mother and a brother greet, As the enamoured maid compares in thought These with the loved Rogero's fond embrace; Which time will never from her mind efface.

XXV Because she could not go, one in her stead To send to Vallombrosa she devised, Who thither in the damsel's name should speed; By whom should young Rogero be apprised What kept her thence; and prayed, if prayer should need, That there he for love would be baptised; And next, as was concerned, would intend What might their bridal bring to happy end.

XXVI She purposed the same messenger should bear As well to her Rogero his good steed; Which he was ever wonted to hold dear, Worthily dear; for sure so stout at need And beauteous was no courser, far or near, In land of Christian or of Paynim creed, In occupation of the Gaul or Moor; Except Baiardo good and Brigliador.

XXVII Valiant Rogero, when too bold of sprite He backed the hippogryph and soared in air, Frontino left (Frontino he was hight), Whom Bradamant then took into her care, And to Mount Alban sent; and had him dight, And nourished, at large cost, with plenteous fare; Nor let be rode except at easy pace, Hence was he ne'er so sleek or well in case.

XXVIII Each damsel and each dame who her obeyed, She tasked, together with herself, to sew, With subtle toil; and with fine gold o'erlaid A piece of silk of white and sable hue: With this she trapt the horse; then chose a maid, Old Callitrephia's daughter, from the crew; Whose mother whilom Bradamant had nursed; A damsel she in all her secrets versed.

XXIX How graven in her heart Rogero lies, A thousand times to her she had confessed; And had extolled above the deities The manners, worth, and beauty be possessed. "No better messenger could I devise," (She said, and called the damsel from the rest,) "Nor have I one, Hippalca mine, more sage And sure than three, to do my embassage."

XXX Hippalca was the attendant damsel hight. "Go," (says her lady, and describes the way) And afterwards informs the maid aright Of all which to Rogero she should say; And why she at the abbey failed the knight, Who must not to bad faith ascribe her stay, But this to Fortune charge, that so decides, Who, more than we ourselves, our conduct guides.

XXXI She made the damsel mount upon a pad, And put into her hand Frontino's rein; And, if she met with one so rude or mad, Who to deprive her of the steed were fain, Her to proclaim who was his owner, bade, As that which might suffice to make him sane. For she believed there was no cavalier, But that Rogero's name would make him fear.

XXXII Of many and many things, whereof to treat With good Rogero, in her stead, she showed; Of which instructed well, her palfrey fleet Hippalca stirred, nor longer there abode. Through highway, field, and wood, a gloomy beat, More than ten weary miles the damsel rode, Ere any crossed her path on mischief bent, Or even questioned witherward she went.

XXXIII At noon of day, descending from a mount, She in a streight and ill declivity, Led by a dwarf, encountered Rodomont, Who was afoot and harnessed cap-a-pee. The Moor towards her raised his haughty front, And straight blasphemed the eternal Hierarchy, That horse, so richly trapped and passing fair, He had not found in a knight-errant's care.

XXXIV On the first courser he should find, the knight Had sworn a solemn oath his hands to lay: This was the first, nor he on steed could light Fairer or fitter; yet to take away The charger from a maid were foul despite. Doubtful he stands, but covets sore the prey; Eyes and surveys him, and says often, "Why Is not as well the courser's master by?"

XXXV "Ah! would be were!" to him the maid replied, "For haply he would make thee change thy thought. A better knight than thee the horse doth ride, And vainly would his match on earth be sought." — "Who tramples thus on other's fame?" — he cried; And she — "Rogero" — said, as she was taught. Then Rodomont — "The steed I may my own; Since him a champion rides of such renown.

XXXVI "If he, as you relate, be of such force, That he surprises all beside in might, I needs must pay the hire as well as horse; And be this at the pleasure of the knight! That I am Rodomont, to him discourse; And, if indeed with me he lists to fight, Me shall to find; in that I shine confest, By my own light, in motion or at rest.

XXXVII "I leave such vestige wheresoe'er I tread, The volleyed thunder leaves not worse below." He had thrown back, over Frontino's head, The courser's gilded reins, in saying so, Backed him, and left Hippalca sore bested; Who, bathed in tears, and goaded by her woe, Cries shame on him, and threats the king with ill: Rodomont hearkens not, and climbs the hill:

XXXVIII Whither the dwarf conducts him on the trace Of Doralice and Mandricardo bold. Behind, Hippalca him in ceaseless chase, Pursues with taunt and curses manifold. What came of this is said in other place. Turpin, by whom this history is told, Here makes digression, and returns again Thither, where faithless Pinnabel was slain.

XXXIX Duke Aymon's daughter scarce had turned away From thence, who on her track in haste had gone, Ere thither by another path, astray, Zerbino came, with that deceitful crone, And saw the bleeding body where it lay: And, though the warrior was to him unknown, As good and courteous, felt his bosom swell, With pity at that cruel sight and fell.

XL Dead lay Sir Pinnabel, and bathed in gore; From whom such streams of blood profusely flow, As were a cause for wonderment, had more Swords than a hundred joined to lay him low. A print of recent footsteps to explore The cavalier of Scotland was not slow; Who took the adventure, in the hope to read Who was the doer of the murderous deed.

XLI The hag to wait was ordered by the peer, Who would return to her in little space. She to the body of the count drew near, And with fixt eye examined every place; Who willed not aught, that in her sight was dear, The body of the dead should vainly grace; As one who, soiled with every other vice, Surpassed all womankind in avarice.

XLII If she in any manner could have thought, Or hoped to have concealed the intended theft, The bleeding warrior's surcoat, richly wrought, She would, together with his arms, have reft; But at what might be safely hidden, caught, And, grieved at heart, forewent the glorious weft. Him of a beauteous girdle she undrest, And this secured between a double vest.

XLIII Zerbino after some short space came back, Who vainly Bradamant had thence pursued Through the green holt; because the beaten track Was lost in many others in the wood; And he (for daylight now began to lack) Feared night should catch him 'mid those mountains rude, And with the impious woman thence, in quest Of inn, from the disastrous valley prest.

XLIV A spacious town, which Altaripa hight, Journeying the twain, at two miles' distance spy: There stopt the pair, and halted for the night, Which, at full soar, even now went up the sky: Nor long had rested there ere, left and right, They from the people heard a mournful cry; And saw fast tears from every eyelid fall, As if some cause of sorrow touched them all.

XLV Zerbino asked the occasion, and 'twas said Tidings had been to Count Anselmo brought, That Pinnabel, his son, was lying dead In a streight way between two mountains wrought. Zerbino feigned surprise, and hung his head, In fear lest he the assassin should be thought; But well divined this was the wight he found Upon his journey, lifeless on the ground.

XLVI After some little time, the funeral bier Arrives, 'mid torch and flambeau, where the cries Are yet more thick, and to the starry sphere Lament and noise of smitten hands arise; And faster and from fuller vein the tear Waters all cheeks, descending from the eyes; But in a cloud more dismal than the rest, Is the unhappy father's visage drest.

XLVII While solemn preparation so was made For the grand obsequies, with reverence due, According to old use and honours paid, In former age, corrupted by each new; A proclamation of their lord allayed Quickly the noise of the lamenting crew; Promising any one a mighty gain That should denounce by whom his son was slain.

XLVIII From voice to voice, from one to other ear, The loud proclaim they through the town declare; Till this the wicked woman chanced to hear, Who past in rage the tyger or the bear; And hence the ruin of the Scottish peer, Either in hatred, would the crone prepare, Or were it she alone might boast to be, In human form, without humanity;

XLIX Or were it but to gain the promised prize; — She to seek out the grieving county flew, And, prefacing her tale in likely wise, Said that Zerbino did the deed; and drew The girdle forth, to witness to her lies; Which straight the miserable father knew; And on the woman's tale and token built A clear assurance of Zerbino's guilt.

L And, weeping, with raised hands, was heard to say, He for his murdered son would have amends. To block the hostel where Zerbino lay, For all the town is risen, the father sends. The prince, who deems his enemies away, And no such injury as this attends, In his first sleep is seized by Anselm's throng, Who thinks he has endured so foul a wrong.

LI That night in prison, fettered with a pair Of heavy letters, is Zerbino chained. For before yet the skies illuminated are, The wrongful execution is ordained; And in the place will he be quartered, where The deed was done for which he is arraigned. No other inquest is on this received; It is enough that so their lord believed.

LII When, the next morn, Aurora stains with dye Red, white, and yellow, the clear horizon, The people rise, to punish ("Death!" their cry) Zerbino for the crime he has not done: They without order him accompany, A lawless multitude, some ride, some run. I' the midst the Scottish prince, with drooping head, Is, bound upon a little hackney, led.

LIII But HE who with the innocent oft sides, Nor those abandons who make him their stay, For prince Zerbino such defence provides, There is no fear that he will die to-day; God thitherward renowned Orlando guides; Whose coming for his safety paves the way: Orlando sees beneath him on a plain The youth to death conducted by the train.

LIV With him was wended she, that in the cell, Prisoned, Orlando found; that royal maid, Child of Gallicia's king, fair Isabel, Whom chance into the ruffians' power conveyed, What time her ship she quitted, by the swell Of the wild sea and tempest overlaid: The damsel, who, yet nearer her heart-core Than her own vital being, Zerbino wore.

LV She had beneath Orlando's convoy strayed, Since rescued from the cave. When on the plain The damsel saw the motley troop arrayed, She asked Orlando what might be the train? "I know not," said the Count; and left the maid Upon the height, and hurried towards the plain. He marked Zerbino, and at the first sight A baron of high worth esteemed the knight,

LVI And asked him why and wherefore him they led Thus captive, to Zerbino drawing near: At this the doleful prince upraised his head, And, having better heard the cavalier, Rehearsed the truth; and this so well he said, That he deserved the succour of the peer. Well Sir Orlando him, by his reply, Deemed innocent, and wrongly doomed to die.

LVII And, after he had heard 'twas at the hest Of Anselm, Count of Altaripa, done, Was certain 'twas and outrage manifest, Since nought but ill could spring from him; and one, Moreover, was the other's foe profest, From ancient hate and enmity, which run In Clermont and Maganza's blood; a feud With injuries, and death and shame pursued.

LVIII Orlando to the rabble cried, "Untie The cavalier, unless you would be slain." — "Who deals such mighty blows?" — one made reply, That would be thought the truest of the train; "Were he of fire who makes such bold defy, We wax or straw, too haughty were the strain": And charged with that the paladin of France. Orlando at the losel couched his lance.

LIX The shining armour which the chief had rent From young Zerbino but the night before, And clothed himself withal, poor succour lent Against Orlando in that combat sore. Against the churl's right cheek the weapon went: It failed indeed his tempered helm to bore, But such a shock he suffered in the strife, As broke his neck, and stretched him void of life.

LX All at one course, of other of the band, With lance unmoved, he pierced the bosom through; Left it; on Durindana laid his hand, And broke into the thicket of the crew: One head in twain he severed with the brand, (While, from the shoulders lopt, another flew) Of many pierced the throat; and in a breath Above a hundred broke and put to death.

LXI Above a third he killed, and chased the rest, And smote, and pierced, and cleft, as he pursued. Himself of helm or shield one dispossest; One with spontoon or bill the champaign strewed This one along the road, across it prest A fourth; this squats in cavern or in wood. Orlando, without pity, on that day Lets none escape whom he has power to slay.

LXII Of a hundred men and twenty, in that crew, (So Turpin sums them) eighty died at least. Thither Orlando finally withdrew, Where, with a heart sore trembling in his breast, Zerbino sat; how he at Roland's view Rejoiced, in verse can hardly be exprest: Who, but that he was on the hackney bound, Would at his feet have cast himself to ground.

LXIII While Roland, after he had loosed the knight, Helped him to don his shining arms again; Stript from those serjeants' captain, who had dight Himself with the good harness, to his pain; The prince on Isabella turned his sight, Who had halted on the hill above the plain: And, after she perceived the strife was o'er, Nearer the field of fight her beauties bore.

LXIV When young Zerbino at his side surveyed The lady, who by him was held so dear; The beauteous lady, whom false tongue had said Was drowned, so often wept with many a tear, As if ice at his heart-core had been laid, Waxed cold, and some deal shook the cavalier; But the chill quickly past, and he, instead, Was flushed with amorous fire, from foot to head.

LXV From quickly clipping her in his embrace, Him reverence for Anglantes' sovereign stayed; Because he thought, and held for certain case, That Roland was a lover of the maid; So past from pain to pain; and little space Endured the joy which he at first assayed. And worse he bore she should another's be, Than hearing that the maid was drowned at sea.

LXVI And worse he grieved, that she was with a knight To whom he owed so much: because to wrest The lady from his hand, was neither right, Nor yet perhaps would prove an easy quest. He, without quarrel, had no other wight Suffered to part, of such a prize possest; But would endure, Orlando (such his debt) A foot upon his prostrate neck should set.

LXVII The three in silence journey to a font, Where they alight, and halt beside the well; His helmet here undid the weary Count, And made the prince too quit the iron shell. The youth unhelmed, she sees her lover's front, And pale with sudden joy grows Isabel: Then, changing, brightened like a humid flower, When the warm sun succeeds to drenching shower.

LXVIII And without more delay or scruple, prest To cast her arms about her lover dear; And not a word could draw-forth from her breast, But bathed his neck and face with briny tear. Orlando, who remarked the love exprest, Needing no more to make the matter clear, Could not but, by these certain tokens, see The could no other but Zerbino be.

LXIX When speech returned, ere yet the maiden well Had dried her cheeks from the descending tear, She only of the courtesy could tell Late shown her by Anglantes' cavalier. The prince, who in one scale weighed Isabel, Together with his life, esteemed as dear, — Fell at Orlando's feet and him adored, As to two lives at once by him restored.

LXX Proffers and thanks had followed, with a round Of courtesies between the warlike pair, Had they not heard the covered paths resound, Which overgrown with gloomy foliage were. Upon their heads the helmet, late unbound, They quickly place, and to their steeds repair; And, lo! a knight and maid arrive, ere well The cavaliers are seated in the sell.

LXXI This was the Tartar Mandricardo, who In haste behind the paladin had sped, To venge Alzirdo and Manilard, the two Whom good Orlando's valour had laid dead: Though afterwards less eager to pursue, Since he with him fair Doralice had led; Whom from a hundred men, in plate and chain, He, with a single staff of oak, had ta'en.

LXXII Yet knew not that it was Anglantes' peer This while, of whom he had pursued the beat; Though that he was a puissant cavalier By certain signals was he taught to weet. More than Zerbino him he eyed, and, near, Perused the paladin from head to feet; Then finding all the tokens coincide, "Thou art the man I seek," the paynim cried.

LXXIII " 'Tis now ten days," to him the Tartar said, "That thee I still have followed; so the fame Had stung me, and in me such longing bred, Which of thee to our camp of Paris came: When, amid thousands by thy hand laid dead, Scarce one alive fled thither, to proclaim The mighty havoc made by thy good hand, 'Mid Tremisena's and Noritia's band.

LXXIV "I was not, as I knew, in following slow Both to behold thee, and to prove thy might; And by the surcoat o'er thine arms I know, (Instructed of thy vest) thou art the knight: And if such cognizance thou didst not show, And, 'mid a hundred, wert concealed from sight, For what thou art thou plainly wouldst appear, Thy worth conspicuous in thy haughty cheer."

LXXV "No one can say," to him Orlando cried, "But that a valiant cavalier thou art: For such a brave desire can ill reside, 'Tis my assurance, in a humble heart. Since thou wouldst see me, would that thou inside, Couldst as without, behold me! I apart Will lay me helm, that in all points thy will And purpose of thy quest I may fulfil.

LXXVI "But when thou well hast scanned me with thine eye, To that thine other wish as well attend: It yet remains for thee to satisfy The want, which leads thee after me to wend; That thou mayest mark if, in my valour, I Agree with that bold cheer thou so commend." — "And now," (exclaimed the Tartar), "for the rest! For my first want is thoroughly redrest."

LXXVII Orlando, all this while, from head to feet, Searches the paynim with inquiring eyes: Both sides, and next the pommel of his seat Surveys, yet neither mace nor tuck espies; And asks how he the combat will repeat, If his good lance at the encounter flies. — "Take thou no care for that," replied the peer; "Thus into many have I stricken fear.

LXXVIII "I have an oath in Heaven to gird no blade, Till Durindana from the count be won. Pursuing whom, I through each road here strayed, With him to reckon for more posts than one. If thou wilt please to hear, my oath I made When on my head I placed this morion: Which casque, with all the other arms I bear, A thousand years ago great Hector's were.

LXXIX "To these good arms nought lacks beside the sword; How it was stolen, to you I cannot say: This now, it seems, is borne by Brava's lord, And hence is he so daring in affray. Yet well I trust, if I the warrior board, To make him render his ill-gotten prey. Yet more; I seek the champion with desire To avenge the famous Agrican, my sire.

LXXX "Him this Orlando slew by treachery, I wot, nor could have slain in other wise." The count could bear no more, and, " 'Tis a lie!" (Exclaims), "and whosoever says so, lies: Him fairly did I slay; Orlando, I. But what thou seekest Fortune here supplies; And this the faulchion is, which thou has sought, Which shall be thine if by thy valour bought.

LXXXI "Although mine is the faulchion, rightfully, Let us for it in courtesy contend; Nor will I in this battle, that it be More mine than thine, but to a tree suspend: Bear off the weapon freely hence, if me Thou kill or conquer." As he made an end, He Durindana from his belt unslung, And in mid-field upon a sapling hung.

LXXXII Already distant half the range of bow Is from his opposite each puissant knight, And pricks against the other, nothing slow To slack the reins or ply the rowels bright. Already dealt is either mighty blow, Where the helm yields a passage to the sight. As if of ice, the shattered lances fly, Broke in a thousand pieces, to the sky.

LXXXIII One and the other lance parforce must split, In that the cavaliers refuse to bend; The cavaliers, who in the saddle sit, Returning with the staff's unbroken end. The warriors, who with steed had ever smit, Now, as a pair of hinds in rage contend For the mead's boundary or river's right, Armed with two clubs, maintain a cruel fight.

LXXXIV The truncheons which the valiant champions bear, Fail in the combat, and few blows resist; Both rage with mightier fury, here and there, Left without other weapon than the fist; With this the desperate foes engage, and, where The hand can grapple, plate and mail untwist. Let none desire, to guard himself from wrongs, A heavier hammer or more holding tongs.

LXXXV How can the Saracen conclude the fray With honour, which he haughtily had sought? 'Twere forty to waste time in an assay Where to himself more harm the smiter wrought Than to the smitten: in conclusion, they Closed, and the paynim king Orlando caught, And strained against his bosom; what Jove's son Did by Antaeus, thinking to have done.

LXXXVI Him griped athwart, he, in impetuous mood, Would now push from him, now would closely strain; And waxed so wroth that, in his heat of blood, The Tartar little thought about his rein. Firm in his stirrups self-collected stood Roland, and watched his vantage to obtain; He to the other courser's forehead slipt His wary hand, and thence the bridle stript.

LXXXVII The Saracen assays with all his might To choak, and from the sell his foeman tear: With either knee Orlando grasps it tight, Nor can the Tartar more him, here or there. But with the straining of the paynim knight, The girts which hold his saddle broken are. Scarce conscious of his fall, Orlando lies, With feet i' the stirrups, tightening yet his thighs.

LXXXVIII As falls a sack of armour, with such sound Tumbled Orlando, when he prest the plain. King Mandricardo's courser, when he found His head delivered from the guiding rein, Made off with him, unheeding what the ground, Stumbling through woodland, or by pathway plain, Hither and tither, blinded by his fear; And bore with him the Tartar cavalier.

LXXXIX The beauteous Doralice, who sees her guide So quit the field, — dismayed at his retreat, And wonted in his succour to confide, Her hackney drives behind his courser fleet: The paynim rates the charger, in his pride, And smites him oftentimes with hands and feet; Threatening, as if he understood his lore; And where he'd stop the courser, chafes him more.

XC Not looking to his feet, by high or low, The beast of craven kind, with headlong force Three miles in rings had gone, and more would go, But that into a fosse which stopt their course, Not lined with featherbed or quilt below, Tumble, reversed, the rider and his horse. On the hard ground was Mandricardo thrown, Yet neither spoiled himself, nor broke a bone:

XCI Here stopt the horse; but him he could not guide, Left without bit his motions to restrain. Brimfull of rage and choler, at his side, The Tartar held him, grappled by the mane. "Put upon him" (to Mandricardo cried His lady, Doralice) "my hackney's rein, Since for the bridle I have little use; For gentle is my palfrey, reined or loose."

XCII The paynim deems it were discourtesy To accept the proffer by the damsel made. But his through other means a rein will be; Since Fortune, who his wishes well appaid, Made thitherward the false Gabrina flee, After she young Zerbino had betrayed: Who like a she-wolf fled, which, as she hies, At distance hears the hounds and hunters' cries.

XCIII She had upon her back the gallant gear, And the same youthful ornaments and vest, Stript from the ill-taught damsel for her jeer, That in her spoils the beldam might be drest, And rode the horse that damsel backed whilere; Who was among the choicest and the best. Ere yet aware of her, the ancient dame On Doralice and Mandricardo came.

XCIV Stordilane's daughter and the Tartar king Laugh at the vest of youthful show and shape, Upon that ancient woman, figuring Like monkey, rather say, like grandam ape. From her the Saracen designs to wring The rein, and does the deed: upon the rape Of the crone's bridle, he, with angry cry, Threatens and scares her horse, and makes him fly.

XCV He flies and hurries through the forest gray That ancient woman, almost dead with fear, By hill and dale, by straight and crooked way, By fosse and cliff, at hazard, there and here. But it imports me not so much to say Of her, that I should leave Anglantes' peer; Who, from annoyance of a foe released, The broken saddle at his ease re-pieced.

XCVI He mounts his horse, and watches long, before Departing, if the foe will re-appear; Nor seeing puissant Mandricardo more, At last resolves in search of him to steer. But, as one nurtured well in courtly lore, From thence departed not the cavalier, Till he with kind salutes, in friendly strain, Fair leaves had taken of the loving twain.

XCVII At his departure waxed Zerbino woe, And Isabella wept for sorrow: they Had wended with him, but the count, although Their company was fair and good, said nay; Urging for reason, nought so ill could show In cavalier, as, when upon his way To seek his foeman out, to take a friend, Who him with arms might succour or defend.

XCVIII Next, if they met the Saracen, before They should encounter him, besought them say, That he, Orlando, would for three days more. Waiting him, in that territory stay: But, after that, would seek the flags which bore The golden lilies, and King Charles' array. That Mandricardo through their means might know, If such his pleasure, where to find his foe.

XCIX The lovers promised willingly to do This, and whatever else he should command. By different ways the cavaliers withdrew, One on the right, and one on the left hand. The count, ere other path he would pursue, Took from the sapling, and replaced, his brand. And, where he weened he might the paynim best Encounter, thitherward his steed addrest.

C The course in pathless woods, which, without rein, The Tartar's charger had pursued astray, Made Roland for two days, with fruitless pain, Follow him, without tidings of his way. Orlando reached a rill of crystal vein, On either bank of which a meadow lay; Which, stained with native hues and rich, he sees, And dotted o'er with fair and many trees.

CI The mid-day fervour made the shelter sweet To hardy herd as well as naked swain; So that Orlando, well beneath the heat Some deal might wince, opprest with plate and chain. He entered, for repose, the cool retreat, And found it the abode of grief and pain; And place of sojourn more accursed and fell, On that unhappy day, than tongue can tell.

CII Turning him round, he there, on many a tree, Beheld engraved, upon the woody shore, What as the writing of his deity He knew, as soon as he had marked the lore. This was a place of those described by me, Whither ofttimes, attended by Medore, From the near shepherd's cot had wont to stray The beauteous lady, sovereign of Catay.

CIII In a hundred knots, amid those green abodes, In a hundred parts, their cyphered names are dight; Whose many letters are so many goads, Which Love has in his bleeding hear-core pight. He would discredit in a thousand modes, That which he credits in his own despite; And would parforce persuade himself, that rhind Other Angelica than his had signed.

CIV "And yet I know these characters," he cried, "Of which I have so many read and seen; By her may this Medoro be belied, And me, she, figured in the name, may mean." Feeding on such like phantasies, beside The real truth, did sad Orlando lean Upon the empty hope, though ill contented, Which he by self-illusions had fomented.

CV But stirred and aye rekindled it, the more That he to quench the ill suspicion wrought, Like the incautious bird, by fowler's lore, Hampered in net or line; which, in the thought To free its tangled pinions and to soar, By struggling, is but more securely caught. Orlando passes thither, where a mountain O'erhangs in guise of arch the crystal fountain.

CVI Splay-footed ivy, with its mantling spray, And gadding vine, the cavern's entry case; Where often in the hottest noon of day The pair had rested, locked in fond embrace. Within the grotto, and without it, they Had oftener than in any other place With charcoal or with chalk their names pourtrayed, Or flourished with the knife's indenting blade.

CVII Here from his horse the sorrowing County lit, And at the entrance of the grot surveyed A cloud of words, which seemed but newly writ, And which the young Medoro's hand had made. On the great pleasure he had known in it, The sentence he in verses had arrayed; Which in his tongue, I deem, might make pretence To polished phrase; and such in ours the sense.

CVIII "Gay plants, green herbage, rill of limpid vein, And, grateful with cool shade, thou gloomy cave, Where oft, by many wooed with fruitless pain, Beauteous Angelica, the child of grave King Galaphron, within my arms has lain; For the convenient harbourage you gave, I, poor Medoro, can but in my lays, As recompence, for ever sing your praise.

CIX "And any loving lord devoutly pray, Damsel and cavalier, and every one, Whom choice or fortune hither shall convey, Stranger or native, — to this crystal run, Shade, caverned rock, and grass, and plants, to say, Benignant be to you the fostering sun And moon, and may the choir of nymphs provide, That never swain his flock may hither guide!"

CX In Arabic was writ the blessing said, Known to Orlando like the Latin tongue, Who, versed in many languages, best read Was in this speech; which oftentimes from wrong, And injury, and shame, had saved his head, What time he roved the Saracens among. But let him boast not of its former boot, O'erbalanced by the present bitter fruit.

CXI Three times, and four, and six, the lines imprest Upon the stone that wretch perused, in vain Seeking another sense than was exprest, And ever saw the thing more clear and plain; And all the while, within his troubled breast, He felt an icy hand his heart-core strain. With mind and eyes close fastened on the block, At length he stood, not differing from the rock.

CXII Then well-nigh lost all feeling; so a prey Wholly was he to that o'ermastering woe. This is a pang, believe the experienced say Of him who speaks, which does all griefs outgo. His pride had from his forehead passed away, His chin had fallen upon his breast below; Nor found he, so grief barred each natural vent, Moisture for tears, or utterance for lament.

CXIII Stiffed within, the impetuous sorrow stays, Which would too quickly issue; so to abide Water is seen, imprisoned in the vase, Whose neck is narrow and whose swell is wide; What time, when one turns up the inverted base, Towards the mouth, so hastes the hurrying tide, And in the streight encounters such a stop, It scarcely works a passage, drop by drop.

CXIV He somewhat to himself returned, and thought How possibly the thing might be untrue: The some one (so he hoped, desired, and sought To think) his lady would with shame pursue; Or with such weight of jealously had wrought To whelm his reason, as should him undo; And that he, whosoe'er the thing had planned, Had counterfeited passing well her hand.

CXV With such vain hope he sought himself to cheat, And manned some deal his spirits and awoke; Then prest the faithful Brigliadoro's seat, As on the sun's retreat his sister broke. Nor far the warrior had pursued his beat, Ere eddying from a roof he saw the smoke; Heard noise of dog and kine, a farm espied, And thitherward in quest of lodging hied.

CXVI Languid, he lit, and left his Brigliador To a discreet attendant: one undrest His limbs, one doffed the golden spurs he wore, And one bore off, to clean, his iron vest. This was the homestead where the young Medore Lay wounded, and was here supremely blest. Orlando here, with other food unfed, Having supt full of sorrow, sought his bed.

CXVII The more the wretched sufferer seeks for ease, He finds but so much more distress and pain; Who every where the loathed hand-writing sees, On wall, and door, and window: he would fain Question his host of this, but holds his peace, Because, in sooth, he dreads too clear, too plain To make the thing, and this would rather shrowd, That it may less offend him, with a cloud.

CXVIII Little availed the count his self-deceit; For there was one who spake of it unsought; The sheperd-swain, who to allay the heat, With which he saw his guest so troubled, thought: The tale which he was wonted to repeat — Of the two lovers — to each listener taught, A history which many loved to hear, He now, without reserve, 'gan tell the peer.

CXIX How at Angelica's persuasive prayer, He to his farm had carried young Medore, Grievously wounded with an arrow; where, In little space she healed the angry sore. But while she exercised this pious care, Love in her heart the lady wounded more, And kindled from small spark so fierce a fire, She burnt all over, restless with desire:

CXX Nor thinking she of mightiest king was born, Who ruled in the east, nor of her heritage, Forced by too puissant love, had thought no scorn To be the consort of a poor foot-page. — His story done, to them in proof was borne The gem, which, in reward for harbourage, To her extended in that kind abode, Angelica, at parting, had bestowed.

CXXI A deadly axe was this unhappy close, Which, at a single stroke, lopt off the head; When, satiate with innumerable blows, That cruel hangman Love his hate had fed. Orlando studied to conceal his woes; And yet the mischief gathered force and spread, And would break out parforce in tears and sighs, Would he, or would be not, from mouth and eyes.

CXXII When he can give the rein to raging woe, Alone, by other's presence unreprest, From his full eyes the tears descending flow, In a wide stream, and flood his troubled breast. 'Mid sob and groan, he tosses to and fro About his weary bed, in search of rest; And vainly shifting, harder than a rock And sharper than a nettle found its flock.

CXXIII Amid the pressure of such cruel pain, It past into the wretched sufferer's head, That oft the ungrateful lady must have lain, Together with her leman, on that bed: Nor less he loathed the couch in his disdain, Nor from the down upstarted with less dread, Than churl, who, when about to close his eyes, Springs from the turf, if he a serpent spies.