Canto 32…

Canto 32

ARGUMENT To her that does for her Rogero stay, Tidings are brought which irk the damsel sore, That fair Marphisa caused the youth's delay; She bent to slay her, grieving evermore, Departs, and overtakes, upon the way, Ullania with the three kings who rode before. These she o'ercomes, and had o'ercome that maid, But that an evil law she disobeyed.

I I recollect that I was bound to sing (I promised so, but it escaped my mind) Of a suspicion, fraught with suffering To Bradamant of more displeasing kind, And made by keener and more venomed sting Than caused that other wound, wherewith she pined, Which, hearing Richardet his news impart, Had pierced her breast and preyed upon her heart.

II So was I bound to sing, but I begun Another song, Rinaldo crossed my way, And then those deeds by savage Guido done, Kept me employed and caused no small delay; And so from subject I to subject run, That I forgot of Bradamant to say. I now remember, and will tell you, ere You of Rinaldo or Gradasso hear.

III But it behoves, ere more of these be said, I should awhile of Agramant discourse, Who had from that night's raging fire conveyed To Arles, the remnant of his scattered force: Since to unite his troops, and furnish aid And victual, 'twas a place of much resource, Seated upon a river, nigh the shore, With Spain in front and Africa before.

IV With horse and foot, of good or evil sort, Marsilius throughout Spain their loss repairs; And each armed back in Barcellona's port, Furnished through love or fear, for sea prepares. The Moor to council daily calls his court; Nor care nor cost the watchful monarch spares: Meanwhile sore taxes and repeated cess, All Africa's o'erburdened towns oppress.

V He offers Rodomont, if to his side He will return, but offers him in vain, Renowned Almontes' daughter, as a bride; His cousin she, her portion Oran's reign. He lures not from his bridge that knight of pride, Who has so many sells, such plate and chain Collected there, from cavaliers o'erthrown, As serve to hide the monumental stone.

VI Marphisa would not such a course pursue: Nay, the redoubted damsel hearing said That Agramant, subdued by Charles's crew, -- His choicest warriors taken, chased, or dead -- In Arles was sheltered with his broken few, Thither, unbidden by the monarch, sped, Prompt to assist him with her friendly blade; And proffered purse and person in his aid.

VII As a free gift to him the martial fair Brunello bore, nor had she done him wrong. He, for ten days and nights, to swing in air, Had sorely feared, from lofty gallows hung: But seeing him unhelped by force or prayer Of any one amid the paynim throng, She thought foul scorn to stain her generous hands With such base blood, and loosed the losel's bands.

VIII She pardoned every ancient injury, And him to Agramant in Arles conveyed. Well may you fancy with what joy and glee The monarch greeted her who brought him aid; He in Brunello's fate wills all shall see In what esteem he holds that warlike maid; For he in earnest does upon her foe What fierce Marphisa menaced but in show.

IX The hangman hung his corpse in desert field, The craving vulture and the crow to feed. Rogero, that erewhile had been his shield, And from the noose that caitiff would have freed, Heaven's justice willed, now lay with wound unhealed, Nor could assist the craven in his need; And when the news were known, the knot was tied; So that Brunello, unassisted, died.

X This while does good duke Aymon's daughter mourn, Because those twenty days so slowly trail: -- Which term elapsed -- Rogero should return, And be received into her church's pale. Time halts not more with him to foreign bourne Exiled, with prisoner pent in noisome jail, Pines the poor wretch for liberty and light, Or his loved land, desired and gladsome sight!

XI Aye sick with hope deferred, the expecting maid, That Phoebus' steeds were foundered one while deemed; Then that his wheels were out of frame, so stayed, Beyond the wonted term, his chariot seemed. Yet longer than that day when Faith delayed The sun, which on the righteous Hebrew beamed, Or than that night Alcides was conceived, She every day and every night believed.

XII How oft of dormouse, badger, or of bear, The heavy slumber would she fain partake! For she that time in sleep would waste and wear; Nor such prolonged repose desired to break; Nor wished the damsel any sound to hear, Until Rogero's voice should her awake: But not alone is this beyond her power; She cannot close her eyes one single hour.

XIII She here and there, throughout the livelong night, Tosses and turns, nor ever finds repose; And still, impatient for the dawn of light, From time to time she to her window goes, To see if Tithon's spouse the lily white Yet scatters mingled with the crimson rose. Nor less desires the damsel, when 'tis morn, To see the golden stars the heaven adorn.

XIV When, saving some four days, the term was ended, Appointed for the youthful warrior's stay, She, full of hope, the messenger attended From hour to hour, that should arrive, and say, "Behold Rogero comes"; and oft ascended A turret, from whose top she might survey Gay champaign, wood, and, mid the wide expanse, A portion of the road, that led to France.

XV When shining arms at distance she perceives, Or any thing that speaks a cavalier, 'Tis her desired Rogero, she believes; And her fair eyes and brows are seen to clear. If footman, or unarmed, the maid conceives, It is a courier from the youthful peer; And, though fallacious every hope she feeds, Another and another aye succeeds.

XVI And then she arms, and will the warrior meet; And from the hill descends into the plain: She finds him not, and to Montalban's seat Hopes he by other road his way has ta'en. In the design, wherewith she moved her feet From thence, she to her fort returns in vain; Nor finds him here nor there; meanwhile expired The period whose approach she so desired.

XVII -- The period so prefixt o'erpast by one, By two, three, six, by eight, by twenty days -- She seeing not her spouse, and tidings none Receiving of the youth, laments 'gan raise, Which had from snake-haired Furies pity won, In those dark realms that Rhadamanthus sways. She smote her eyes divine, and bosoms fair; She rent the tresses of her golden hair.

XVIII "Can it be true?" -- (she cried) -- "Shall I be fain To follow one, that strives to hide and fly? Esteem a man that has me in disdain? Pray him that never hears my suppliant cry? Suffer who hates me o'er my heart to reign? One that his lofty virtues holds so high, 'Twere need some heaven-born goddess should descend From realms above, his stubborn heart to bend?

XIX "Proud youth! he knows my worship and my love, Nor me will have for lover or for slave. The cruel stripling knows what pangs I prove, Yet will not aid me till I am in my grave. Nor let me tell my sorrows, lest they move Him his perverse and evil will to wave; Shunning me like malignant asp, that fears To change his mood, if he the charmer hears.

XX "Ah! Love, arrest this wight who runs so free, Outstripping my slow feet, or me install In the condition whence thou tookest me, Such as I was, ere thine or other's thrall. -- Alas! how vain the hope! that thou shouldst be Ever to pity moved by suppliant call, Who sport, yea feed and live, in streams that rise From the distracted lover's brimming eyes.

XXI "But, woe is me, alas! and, what can I Save my irrational desire lament? Which makes me soar a pitch so passing high, I reach a region, where my plumes are brent; Then, unsustained, fall headlong from the sky; Nor ends my woe; on other flight intent, Again I imp my wings, again I soar; To flame and fall, tormented evermore.

XXII "Yea; rather of myself should I complain, Than the desire, to which I bared my breast Whereby was Reason hunted from her reign, And all my powers by stronger force opprest. Thus borne from bad to worse, without a rein, I cannot the unbridled beast arrest; Who makes me see I to destruction haste, That I more bitterness in death may taste.

XXIII "Yet, ah! why blame myself? Wherein have I Ever offended, save in loving thee? What wonder was it then that suddenly A woman's feeble sense opprest should be? Why fence and guard myself, lest bearing high, Wise words, and beauty rare should pleasure me? Most wretched is the mortal that would shun To look upon the visage of the sun.

XXIV "Besides that me my destiny entrained, Words, worthy credence, moved me much, that drew A picture of rare happiness, ordained As meed of this fair unless to ensue. If these persuasive words were false and feigned, If famous Merlin's counsel was untrue, Wrath at the wizard may I well profess; But cannot therefore love Rogero less.

XXV "Both Merlin and Melissa have I need To blame, and shall for ever blame the twain, That, to exhibit suckers of my seed, Conjured up spirits from infernal reign, Who with this empty hope my fancy feed, Me in perpetual bondage to detain. Nor other cause for this can I suppose, Save that they grudge me safe and sweet repose."

XXVI Sorrow the maid so wholly occupies, Room has she none for comfort or for rest. Yet, maugre her affliction, Hope will rise, And form a lodgement in her harassed breast; And to the damsel's memory still supplies Rogero's parting words to her addrest; So makes her, in all seeming facts' despite, Await from hour to hour the youthful knight.

XXVII For a month's space beyond those twenty days This hope affords fair Bradamant content: Hence sorrow not on her so heavy weighs As it would else her harassed soul have shent. She, one day that along the road she strays, By which she oft to meet Rogero went, Hears tidings, that of Hope -- last comfort left -- (Like every other good) her breast bereft.

XXVIII Bound homeward from the hostile camp, where lay King Agramant, she met a Gascon knight, A prisoner to those paynims, from the day, That fought nigh Paris was the famous fight. The damsel prest him all he knew to say: Then to the point she covets led the knight: Asks of Rogero, on that theme abides, Listens to that, not aught inquires besides.

XXIX Of him a full account did he afford, As well acquainted with the court; he said How, matched with Mandricardo, strove that lord, And layed the martial king in combat dead. And how, sore wounded by the Tartar's sword, Above a month the stripling kept his bed: And had the stranger here but closed his news, Well might his tale the missing knight excuse.

XXX But then subjoins the Gascon cavalier How in the Moorish camp a damsel lies, By name Marphisa hight, of beauteous cheer, Bold and as skilled in arms of every guise, Who loves Rogero and to him is dear; And then the host so rarely sundered spies, That every one, throughout the paynim train, Deems that betrothed in wedlock are the twain.

XXXI And hope, when healed shall be the youthful knight, The marriage of those lovers will succeed; (For sure) with pleasure and sincere delight, Those tidings paynim prince and monarch read: Since, knowing either's superhuman might, They augur, from their loins will spring a breed, In little season, which shall pass in worth The mightiest race that ever was on earth.

XXXII What he rehearsed, the Gascon knight believed, Nor without cause believed the news he bore, A rumour universally received And bruited through the squadrons of the Moor; Who had that notion of their love conceived From signs of kindness witnessed evermore. For -- good or bad -- though from one mouth it flows, Fame to a boundless torrent quickly grows.

XXXIII That she with him had brought the Paynim aid, And ne'er was seen without the cavalier, The first foundation of the rumour layed: But what confirmed that fame in every ear, Was, that she, having from the camp conveyed The thief Brunello (as I sang whilere) As if alone to see Rogero brought, Had to the camp returned, uncalled, unsought.

XXXIV She solely to the camp had ta'en her way, To visit him that on a sick-bed smarted; Nor once alone; but often all the day There passed that maid, and but at eve departed: Who gave yet greater cause of her to say, That -- known as one so haughty and hard-hearted, Who all the world despised -- she now was grown Benign and humble to the Child alone.

XXXV When Bradamant the Gascon's story heard, That lady suffered such tormenting pain, Such cruel woe her inmost bosom stirred, From falling she preserved herself with pain. She turned her courser round, without a word, Inflamed with jealousy and fierce disdain: From her all hope the wretched damsel spurns, And to her chamber breathing wrath returns.

XXXVI Turned on her face, her body on the bed, Armed as she is, th4e grieving damsel throws, And that the sad lament by sorrow bred, May be unheard of any, bites the clothes; And so, repeating what the stranger said, To such a pitcher her smothered anguish grows, Her plaints no longer able to restrain, So vents the maid parforce her piteous pain:

XXXVII "Who ever can be trusted? woe is me! All false and cruel well may be esteemed, If thou, Rogero, false and cruel be, That I so pious and so faithful deemed. What foul and felon act, what treachery, Was ever yet by tragic poet dreamed, But will fall short of thine, if thou wilt set The sum of my desert, against thy debts?

XXXVIII "Wherefore, Rogero, since no cavalier Mates thee in beauteous form and daring feat, Since thou in matchless valour hast no peer, And none with thee in gentleness compete, Why cannot we, 'mid godlike gifts and clear, Allow thee truth, thy graces to complete? The praise of spotless truth to thee allow, To which all other virtues yield and bow?

XXXIX "Knowest thou not, without it, worthless are All gentle bearing and all martial might? As there is nothing, howsoever fair, That can be seen without the aid of light. Easily mightest thou a maid ensnare, Lord as thou was, and idol in her sight. Her with thy honied words thou might'st have won, To deem that cold and darksome was the sun.

XL "Cruel, what sin can trouble thee, if thou Do'st not her murder who loved thee repent? If held so lightly be a breach of vow -- Beneath what burden will thy heart be bent? What treatment will thine adversary know, If one who loves like me thou so torment? Justice is none in heaven, I well may say, If Heaven its vengeance for my wrongs delay.

XLI "If of all human sins of deepest dye Be fell ingratitude; if doomed to smart For this, the fairest angel of the sky Was banished into foul and darksome part; If mighty sins for mighty vengeance cry, Where due atonement cleanses not the heart; Beware lest thou beneath such vengeance groan, Ingrate! that wouldest not thy sin atone.

XLII "Cruel Rogero, I of theft, beside All other sins, may justly thee arraign. That thou my heart has ravished form my side, -- Of this offence I will not, I complain -- But, having made it mine, that thou defied All right, and took away thy gift again. Restore it; well thou know'st what pains requite His sin, who keeps what is another's right.

XLIII "Thou hast left me, Rogero; thee to leave, Alas! I neither will nor power possess. But will and power have I my life to reave, To scape from this o'erwhelming wretchedness. To die at strife with thee alone I grieve: For, had the gods so pleased my lot to bless, As to require my life, when loved of thee, Never so welcome had been death to me."

XLIV Resolved to die, 'twas so the damsel cried; And starting from her bed, by passion warmed, To her left breast her naked sword applied; Then recollected she was wholly armed. Meanwhile her better Spirit, at her side, With these persuasive words her fury charmed: "O lady, born to such illustrious name! Would'st thou conclude thy life with such foul shame?

XLV "Were it not better to the field to go, Where aye thy breath with glory may be spent? There, should Rogero chance to lay thee low, He to have slain thee haply may repent; But, should his faulchion deal the mortal blow, What death could ever yield thee more content? Reason it were thou should'st by him be slain, Who dooms thee living to such passing pain.

XLVI "Haply of that Marphisa, too, before Thou die, thou yet may deadly vengeance take, Who with dishonest love and treacherous lore Did thy beloved Rogero's fealty shake." This seemed to please the mournful lady more Than her first thought; and she forthwith bade make A mantle for her arms, which should imply Her desperation and desire to die.

XLVII The vest is of that colour which is spied In leaf, when gray and yellow are at strife; When it is gathered from the branch, or dried Is the green blood, that was it's parent's life. Embroidered is the surcoat's outer side With stems of cypress which disdain the knife; Which shoot not, when by biting steel laid low. A habit well according with her woe.

XLVIII She took the courser that was wont to bear Astolpho, and with him the lance of gold, By whose sole touch unhorsed all champions were. Needless anew I deem it to unfold Why by Astolpho given, and when and where, Or how that spear obtained the warrior bold. The lady took the lance, but nothing guessed Of the stupendous virtue it possessed.

XLIX Without attendants, without squire, alone, The hill descending by the nearest way, Toward Paris is the mournful damsel gone, Where camped erewhile the Moorish forces lay; For yet to her the tidings were unknown, That good Rinaldo and his bold array Had raised, with Charles' and Malagigi's aid, The siege the paynims had to Paris laid.

L -- Cadurci, and Cahors city left behind -- Bradamant sees the mountain, far and near, Whence Dordogne's waters to the valley wind; And Montferrant's and Clermont's towers appear: When she, a lady fair, of semblance kind, Beholds, by that same road, towards her steer. Three knights were nigh, and -- at the pommel hung -- A buckler from the damsel's saddle swung.

LI Before the lady and behind her ride More squires and maids, a numerous company. Fair Bradamant of one that past beside Demanded who the stranger dame might be? "That lady to the king of France" (replied The squire) "is sent upon an embassy From THE LOST ISLE, which lies mid seas that roll Their restless waves beyond the northern pole.

LII "Some THE LOST ISLE, some Iceland call the reign Whereof a royal lady fills the throne; Whose charms (before those charms all beauties wane) Are such as Heaven had dealt to her alone. The shield you see she sends to Charlemagne, But with the pact and purpose plainly shown, He should confer it on the knight, whose worth Is, in his judgment, fairest upon earth.

LIII "She, as she deems herself (and it is true She is the fairest of all womankind), A cavalier, that should in heart and thew Surpass all other warriors, fain would find; Resolved, should her a hundred thousand woo, None shall unfix the purpose of her mind; -- But he, held worthiest by the world's accord, Alone shall be her lover and her lord.

LIV "In France, in royal Charles's famous court, The damsel hopes to find the cavalier, Who in a thousand feats of high report Has shown that he excels each puissant peer. All three are monarchy who the dame escort, And what their kingdoms ye as well shall hear. One Sweden rules, one Gothland, Norway one; Surpast in martial praise by few or none.

LV "These three, whose kingdoms at some distance lie, Yet the least distant lie from the LOST ISLE, (Because few mariners its shore descry, As little known, that island so they style), Wooed and yet woo her for a wife, and vie In valour, and, to win the lady's smile, Illustrious deeds have done, which Fame shall sound, While Heaven shall circle in its wonted round.

LVI "Yet she not these will wed, nor cavalier That does not, as she deems, all else excell. -- `Lightly I hold your proof of valour here,' (Those northern monarchs was she wont to tell) `And if, like sun amid the stars, one peer Outshines his fellows, him I honour well: But therefore hold him not, in fierce alarms, Of living men the bravest knight at arms.

LVII " `To Charlemagne, whom I esteem and hold As wisest among reigning kings, by me Shall be dispatched a costly shield of gold, On pact and on condition, that it be Bestowed on him, deemed boldest of the bold, Amid the martial ranks of chivalry. Serves the king Charlemagne or other lord, I will be governed by that king's award.

LVIII " `If when King Charles the buckler shall receive And give to one so stout, that best among All others he that warrior shall believe, Do they to his or other court belong. For me the golden buckler shall retrieve One of you three, in his own virtue strong; My every love and thought shall he possess; Him for my spouse and lord will I confess.'

LIX "Moved by these stirring speeches, hither hie From that wide-distant sea, those monarchs bold, Resolved to win the buckler, or to die Beneath his hand who has that shield of gold." Bradamant ponders much the squire's reply: He give his horse the head -- his story told -- And plies him so with restless heel and hand, He overtakes the damsel's distant band.

LX After him gallops not, nor hurries ought, Bradamant, who pursues her road at ease: Much evermore evolving in her thought Things that may chance, she finally foresees That through the buckler by that damsel brought, Will follow strife and boundless enmities, Amid king Charles's peerage and the rest, If with that shield he shall reward the best.

LXI This grieved the damsel's heart, but far above That grief, the former fear her heard did goad; That young Rogero had withdrawn his love From her, and on the warlike queen bestowed. So buried in the thoughts wherewith she strove, Was Bradamant, she heeded nor her road, Nor took she care where, at the close of light, To find befitting shelter for the night.

LXII As when from squall, or other chance, a barge Drives from the river-side, where late it lay, Under no mariner or pilot's charge, The winds and waves at will transport their prey; So Rabican with Bradamant, at large, -- She musing on Rogero -- wends his way. For thence, by many miles, was distant wide That mind which should her courser's bridle guide.

LXIII She raised her eyes at last, and saw the sun Had turned his back on Bocchus' towers and wall; Then, like a cormorant, his journey done, Into his nurse's lap beheld him fall, Beyond Marocco; and for her to run To tree, for shelter from the rising squall, Had been a foolish thought; for now 'gan blow A blustering wind, which threatened rain or snow.

LXIV To better speed fair Bradamant aroused Her courser, yet but little way did ride, When with his flock, which on the champaign browsed, Leaving the fields, a shepherd she espied. To him where, well or ill, she might be housed, -- With many instances the maid applied -- For never house could such ill shelter yield, But that in rain 'twere worse to lodge afield.

LXV To her the shepherd said, "I know of none Whereto I could direct you, near at hand. At least six leagues are distant all, but one, Named TRISTRAM'S TOWER, throughout the neighbouring land. But not to all men is the door undone; For it behoves that they, with lance in hand, Achieve their footing first and the defend, Who to be lodged within its walls pretend.

LXVI "If there be room within, to stranger knight The castellain gives kindly welcome there: But is a lodging claimed by other wight, To joust with all new comers makes him swear: If none, he need not move; but arms and fight He must what stranger thither shall repair; And he that worst his warlike arms shall ply, Must wander forth beneath the naked sky.

LXVII "If two. three, four, or more, seek shelter, they That first arrive, in peace their quarters take. Who follows, has a harder game to play; For war upon those many must he make. So, if one only in that mansion stay, He with those two, or more, a lance must break. Then with as many others as succeed: Thus he what strength he has shall sorely need.

LXVIII "As well, if wife or maid seek that repair, (Is she alone, is she accompanied), And afterwards another, the most fair Is housed; that other must without abide." Bradamant asked the kindly shepherd where That castle stood; and he with signs replied As well as words, and pointed with his hand Where, five or six miles wide, the tower did stand.

LXIX Though Rabican's good paces merit praise, To hurry him the damsel had no skill, By those so passing foul and broken ways, (By season somewhat rainy rendered ill) So, as to reach the tower, ere Night o'erlays The world, whose every nook dark shadows fill. Arrived, that lady finds the portal barred, And that she seeks a lodging tells the guard.

LXX He answers that the place is occupied By dame and knight already housed, who, met About the fire, in that chill evening-tide, Wait till their supper be before them set. To him that maid: "The board is not supplied, I deem, for them, unless the meal be eat. Now, say I wait their coming." (she pursues,) Who know and will observe your castle's use."

LXXI The guard his message bore, where at their ease Reposed the weary cavaliers; his tale Not overlikely was those kings to please; For cold and peevish blew the wintry gale, And now fast fell the rain; yet, forced to seize Their arms, they slowly don the martial mail. The rest remain within; while they proceed Against the damsel, but with little speed.

LXXII Three cavaliers they were, of might so tried, Few champions but to them in prowess yield, The same that she that very day, beside The courier maid, encountered in the field, They that in Iceland boasted, in their pride, To bear away from France the golden shield: Who (for they had the martial maid outrode) Arrived before her at that lord's abode.

LXXIII In feats of arms few warriors were more stout; But she besure will be among those few, She, that on no account will wait without, Fasting and wet, night's weary watches through. Within from window and from lodge, the rout Look forth, and will the joust by moonlight view, Which streams from underneath a covering cloud; Albeit the furious rain beats fast and loud.

LXXIV Such transport as the longing gallant cheers, About to seize the stolen fruits of love, When, after long delay, the listener hears The bold within its socket softly move, Such transport cheered her, of those cavaliers The prowess and the pith a-fire to prove, When now the opened portals she descried, And drawbridge dropt, and issuing knights espied.

LXXV When she beheld, how, of the drawbridge clear Those knights, together or scarce sundered, came, She took her ground; and next in fierce career, With flowing bridle, drove the furious dame, Levelling against those kings that virtuous spear, Her cousin's gift, which never missed its aim; Whose touch each warrior must unseat parforce; Yea Mars, should Mars contend in mortal course.

LXXVI The king of Sweden, foremost of those knights, In falling too is foremost of the train; With such surpassing force his helmet smites That spear, which never yet was couched in vain. Gothland's good king next meets the maid, and lights With feet in air, at distance on the plain. The third (unhorsed by Aymon's beauteous daughter) Half buried lies in mire and marshy water.

LXXVII When at three strokes she had unhorsed them all, Lighting with head on earth and heels in air, Retiring from the field, she sought the Hall, In search of lodging; but, ere harboured there, To issue forth, at whosoever's call, Is, by the warder's hest, obliged to swear. That lord who well had weighed her famous feats, The damsel with surpassing honour greets.

LXXVIII So does by her the lady, that erewhile Had thither journeyed, with those monarchs three, As I related, sent from the LOST ISLE To France's king, upon an embassy. Kind as she is and affable of style, She renders back the stranger's courtesy; Rises to welcome her with smiling air, And to the fire conducts that warlike fair.

LXXIX As Bradamant unarms, and first her shield, And after puts her polished casque away, A caul of shining gold, wherein concealed And clustering close, her prisoned tresses lay, She with the helmet doffs; and now revealed, (While the long locks about her shoulders play,) A lovely damsel by that band is seen, No fiercer in affray than fair of mien.

LXXX As when the stage's curtain is uprolled, Mid thousand lamps, appears the mimic scene, Adorned with arch and palace, pictures, gold, And statues; or, as limpid and serene The sun his visage, glorious to behold, Unveils, emerging from a cloudy screen; So when the lady doffs her iron case, All paradise seems opened in her face.

LXXXI Already so well-grown and widely spread Were the bright tresses which the hermit shore, These, gathered in a knot, behind her head, Though shorter than their wont, the damsel wore; And he, that castle's master, plainly read, (Who often had beheld her face before) That this was Bradamant; and now he paid Yet higher honours to the martial maid.

LXXXII With modest and with mirthful talk this while, Seated about the fire, they feed the ear; And in this way the weary time beguile Till they are heartened with more solid cheer. If new or ancient were his castle's style, (Bradamant asks the courteous cavalier) By whom begun, and how it took its rise? And thus that castellain to her replies.

LXXXIII "When Pharamond of France possessed the throne, His son, prince Clodion, had a mistress rare; And damsel in that ancient age was none More graceful, beauteous, or more debonair; So loved of Pharamond's enamoured son, That he lost sight no oftener of the fair Than Io's shepherd of his charge whilere: For jealous as enamoured was the peer.

LXXXIV "Her in this mansion, which his sire bestowed, He kept, and rarely issued from his rest: With him were lodged ten cavaliers, allowed Through France to be the boldest and the best. Hither, while in this castle he abode, Sir Tristram and a dame their course addrest: Whom from a furious giant, in her need, Short time before that gentle knight had freed.

LXXXV "Sir Tristram and his lady reached the Hall, When now the sun had Seville left behind. They for admission on the porter call, Since they for ten miles round no shelter find, But Clodion, that loved much, and was withal Sore jealous, was determined in his mind No stranger in his keep should ever inn, So long as that fair lady lodged therein.

LXXXVI "When, after long entreaties made in vain, The castellain refused to house the knight, He said, `What supplication cannot gain, I hope to make thee do in they despite'; And loudly challenged him, with all his train, Those ten which he maintained, to bloody fight; Offering, with levelled lance and lifted glaive, To prove Sir Clodion a discourteous knave;

LXXXVII "On pact, if he sate fast, and overthrown Should be the warder, and his warlike rout, He in that castle should be lodged alone, And Clodion with his knights remain without. Against him goes the king of France's son, At risque of death, to venge that galling flout; But falls astound; the rest partake his fate, And on the losers Tristram bars the gate.

LXXXVIII "Entering the tower, he finds her harboured there Whereof I spake, so dear in Clodion's eyes; Whom SHE had equalled with the loveliest fair, Nature, so niggard of such courtesies. With her Sir Tristram talks, while fell despair Aye racks the houseless prince in horrid wise. Who prays the conquering knight, with suppliant cry, Not to his arms the damsel to deny.

LXXXIX "Though she small worth in Tristram's sight possess, Nor any, saving Yseult, please his sight, Nor other dame to love or to caress, The philtre, drunk erewhile, allows the knight; Yet, for he would that foul discourteousness Of Clodion with a fit revenge requite, He cries, `I deem it were foul wrong and sore, If so such beauty I should shut the door.

XC " `And, should Sir Clodion grieve beneath the tree To lodge alone, and company demand; Although less beautiful, I have with me A fair and youthful damsel, here at hand, Who, I am well content, his mate shall be, And do in all things, as he shall command. But she that is most fair to the most strong, Meseemeth, in all justice should belong.'

XCI "Shut out all night, the moody Clodion strayed, Puffing and pacing round his lofty tower, As if that prince the sentinel had played On them, that slept at ease in lordly bower: Him, sorer far than wind and cold dismayed That lovely lady's loss in Tristram's power: But he, with pity touched, upon the morrow, Rendered her back, and so relieved his sorrow.

XCII "Because, he said, and made it plain appear, Such as he found her, he returned the fair; And though for his discourtesy whilere, Clodion had every scorn deserved to bear, He was content with having made the peer Outwatch the weary night in open air. Accepting not that cavalier's excuse, Who would have thrown on Love his castle's use.

XCIII "For Love should make a churlish nature kind, And not transform to rude a gentle breast. When Tristram hence was gone, not long behind Remained the enamoured prince who changed his rest: But first he to a cavalier consigned The tower; whereof that baron he possest, On pact, that he and his in the domain Henceforth this usage ever should maintain;

XCIV "That cavalier of greater heart and power Should in this hall be harboured without fail: They that less worthy were should void the tower, And seek another inn, by hill or dale. In fine, that law was fixt, which to this hour Endures, as you have seen"; while so his tale To Bradamant recounts that castle's lord, The sewer with savoury meats has heaped the board.

XCV In the great hall that plenteous board was laid, (None fairer was in all the world beside) Then came where those beauteous ladies stayed, And them, with torches lit, did thither guide. On entering, Bradamant the room surveyed, And she, that other fair, on every side; Who as they gaze about the gorgeous hall Filled full of picture, mark each storied wall.

XCVI So beauteous are the figures, that instead Of eating, on the painted walls they stare; Albeit of meat they have no little need, Who wearied sore with that day's labour are. With grief the sewer, with grief the cook takes heed, How on the table cools the untasted fare. Nay, there is one amid the crowd, who cries, "First fill your bellies, and then feast your eyes."

XCVII The guests were placed, and now about to eat, When suddenly bethought that castellain, To house two damsels were a thing unmeet; One lady must dislodge, and one remain; The fairest stay, and she least fair retreat. Where howls the wind, where beats the pattering rain. Because they separate came, 'tis ordered so: One lady must remain, one lady go.

XCVIII The lord some matrons of his household crew Calls, with two elders, in such judgments wise; He marks the dames, and bids them of the two Declare which is most beauteous in their eyes; And all, upon examination due, Cry, Aymon's daughter best deserves the prize, And vouch as she in might those kings outweighed, No less in beauty she surpassed the maid.

XCIX The warder cries to that Islandic dame, Who of her sentence has a shrewd suspicion, "O lady, let it be no cause of blame, That we observe our usage and condition; To seek some other rest must be thine aim, Since, by our universal band's admission, Though unadorned that martial maid be seen, Thou canst not match her charms and lovely mien."

C As in a moment's time a cloud obscure Steams from the bottom of some marshy dale, Which the sun's visage, late so bright and pure, Mantles all over with its dingy veil; So that poor damsel, sentenced to endure, Without, the pelting shower and blustering gale, Is seen to change her cheer, and is no more The fair and mirthful maid she was before.

CI The maid turns pale, and all her colour flies, Who dreads so stern a sentence to obey: But generous Bradamant, in prudent guise, Who could not bear to see her turned away, Cried to that baron, "Partial and unwise Your judgment seems, as well all judgments may, Wherein the losing party has not room To plead before the judge pronounces doom.

CII "I, who this cause take on me to defend, Say (whether fairer or less fair I be) I came not as a woman, nor intend That now mine actions shall be womanly. But, saving I undress, who shall pretend To say I am or am not such as she? Neither should aught be said but what we know, And least of all what works another woe.

CIII "Many, as well as I, long tresses wear, Yet are not therefore women; if, as guest, I have admittance gained to your repair, Like woman or like man, is manifest: Then why should I the name of woman bear, That in my actions stand a man confest? 'Tis ruled that woman should a woman chase; Nor that a knight a woman should displace.

CIV "Grant we (what I confess not howsoe'er) That you the woman in my visage read; But that in beauty I am not her peer: Not therefore, deem I, of my valour's meed Ye would deprive me, though in beauteous cheer The palm I to that damsel should concede 'Twere hard, before I yield to her in charms, That I should forfeit what I won in arms.

CV "And if it be your usage, that the dame Who yields in beauty, from your tower must wend, Here to remain I my design to proclaim, Should my resolve have good or evil game, Hence I infer, unequal were the game, If she and I in beauty should contend: For if such strife 'twixt her and me ensues, Nought can the damsel gain, and much may lose;

CVI "And save the gain and loss well balanced be In every match, the contest is unfair. So that by right, no less than courtesy, May she a shelter claim in you repair. But are there any here that disagree, And to impugn my equal sentence dare, Behold my prompt, at such gainsayer's will, To prove my judgment right, his judgment ill!"

CVII Bradamant -- grieved that maid of gentle kind Should from that castle wrongfully be sped, To bide the raging of the rain and wind, Where sheltering house was none, nor even shed -- With reasons good, in wary speech combined, Persuades that lord; but mostly what she said On ending silences the knight; and he Allows the justice of that damsel's plea.

CVIII As when hot summer sun the soil has rived, And most the thirsty plant of moisture drains, The weak and wasting flower, well nigh deprived Of that quick sap which circled in its veins, Sucks in the welcome rain, and is revived; So, when bold Bradamant so well maintains The courier maid's defence, her beauteous cheer And mirth revive, and brighten as whilere.

CIX At length the supper, which had long been dight, Nor yet was touched, enjoys each hungry guest; Nor any further news of errant knight Them, seated at the festive board, molest; All, saving Bradamant, enjoy, whose sprite, As wont, is still afflicted and opprest. For that suspicious fear, that doubt unjust, Which racked her bosom, marred the damsel's gust.

CX The supper done -- brought sooner to a close Haply from their desire to feast their eyes -- First of the set, Duke Aymon's daughter rose, And next the courier maid is seen to rise. With that the warder signs to one, that goes And many torches fires in nimble wise; Whose light on storied wall and ceiling fell. What followed shall another canto tell.

Canto 33

ARGUMENT Bradamant sees in picture future fight There, where she gained admission by the spear. From combat cease, upon Baiardo's flight, Gradasso and Montalban's cavalier. While soaring through the world, the English knight Arrives in Nubia's distant realm, and here Driving the Harpies from the royal board, Hunts to the mouth of hell that impious horde.

I Timagoras, Parrhasius, Polygnote, Protogenes, renowned Apollodore, Timanthes, and Apelles, first of note, Zeuxis and others, famed heretofore, Whose memory down the stream of Time will float, While we their wreck and labours lost deplore, Whose fame will flourish still in Fate's despite, (Grammercy authors!) while men read and write.

II And those, yet living or of earlier day, Mantegna, Leonardo, Gian Belline, The Dossi, and, skilled to carve or to pourtray, Michael, less man than angel and divine, Bastiano, Raphael, Titian, who (as they Urbino and Venice) makes Cadoro shine; With more, whose works resemble what he hear And credit of those spirits, famed whilere;

III The painters we have seen, and others, who Thousands of years ago in honour stood, Things which had been with matchless pencil drew, Some working upon wall, and some on wood. But never, amid masters old or new, Have ye of pictures heard or pictures viewed Of things to come; yet such have been pourtrayed Before the deeds were done which they displayed.

IV Yet let not artist whether new or old, Boast of his skill such wondrous works to make; But leave this feat to spell, wherewith controlled The spirits of the infernal bottom quake. The hall, whereof in other strain I told, With volume sacred to Avernus' lake, Or Norsine grot, throught subject Demons' might, Was made by Merlin in a single night.

V That art, whereby those ancient erst pourtrayed Such wonders, is extinguished in our day. But to the troop, by whom will be surveyed The painted chamber, I return, and say; A squire attendant on a signal made, Bore thither lighted torches, by whose ray Were scattered from that hall the shades of night, Nor this in open day had shown more bright.

VI When thus the castle's lord addressed that crew: "Know, of adventures in this chamber wrought, Up to our days, have yet been witnessed few; A warfare storied, but its fields unfought. Who limned the battles, these as well foreknew. Here of defeats to come and victories taught, Whate'er in Italy our host befalls You may discern as painted on these walls.

VII "The wars, wherein French armies should appear, Beyond the Alps, of foul event or fair, Even from his days until the thousandth year, By the prophetic Merlin painted were. Hither Great Britain's monarch sent the seer, To him, that of King Marcomir was heir: Why hither sent, and why this hall was made, At the same time to you shall be displayed.

VIII "King Pharamond, the first of those that passed The Rhine, amid his Franks' victorious train, When Gaul was won, bethought him how to cast On restive Italy the curbing rein; And this; that evermore he wasting fast Beheld the Roman empire's feeble reign; And (for both reigned at once) would make accord, To compass his design, with Britain's lord.

IX "The royal Arthur, by whom nought was done Without the ripe advice of Merlin sage, (Merlin, I say, the Devils mighty son, Well versed in what should chance in future age,) Knowing through him, to Pharamond made known, He would in many woes his host engage, Entering that region, which, with rugged mound, Apennine parts, and Alp and sea surround.

X "To him sage Merlin shows, that well nigh all Those other monarchs that in France will reign, By murderous steel will see their people fall, Consumed by famine, or by fever slain; And that short joy, long sorrow, profit small, And boundless ill shall recompense their pain; Since vainly will the lily seek to shoot In the Italian fields its withered root.

XI "King Pharamond so trusted to the seer That he resolved to turn his arms elsewhere; And Merlin, who beheld with sight as clear The things to be, as things that whilom were, 'Tis said, was brought by magic art to rear The painted chamber at the monarch's prayer; Wherein whatever deeds the Franks shall do, As if already done, are plain to view.

XII "That king who should succeed, might comprehend, As he renown and victory would obtain, Whene'er his friendly squadrons should defend From all barbarians else the Italian reign; So, if to damage her he should descend, Thinking to bind her with the griding chain, -- Might comprehend, I say, and read his doom -- How he beyond these hills should find a tomb."

XIII So said, he leads the listening ladies where Those pictured histories begin; to show How Sigisbert his arms will southward bear For what imperial Maurice shall bestow. "Behold him from the Mount of Jove repair Thither where Ambra and Ticino flow! Eutar behold, who not alone repels, But puts the foe to flight, and routs and quells.

XIV "Where they with Clovis tread the mountain way, More than a hundred thousand warriors trace; See Benevento's duke the monarch stay, Whose thinner files his hostile army face. Lo! these who feign retreat an ambush lay. Lo! where through danger, havoc, and disgrace, The Franks, who to the Lombard wine-fat hie, Drugged by the bait, like poisoned mullets die.

XV "Where Childibert the boundary hills has crost, Heading what bands of France and captains, see; Yet shall no more than baffled Clovis boast The conquest or the spoil of Lombardy. Heaven's sword descends so heavy on his host. Choked with their bodies every road shall be; So pined with watery flux and withering sun, That, out of ten, unharmed returns not one."

XVI He shows King Pepin, shows King Charlemagne; How into Italy their march they bend; And one and the other fair success obtain, Because her land they came not to offend. But Stephen one, the other Adriane, And, after, injured Leo, would defend. This quells Astolpho, and that takes his heir, And re-establishes the papal chair.

XVII A youthful Pepin of the royal line He after shows; who seemed to spread his host, Even from THE KILNS to the Isle of Palestine; And with a bridge, achieved at mighty cost, At Malamocco, to bestride the brine, And on Rialto's shore his battle post. Then fly and leave his drowning bands behind, His bridge destroyed by wasting waves and wind.

XVIII "Burgundian Lewis ye behold descend Thither with his invading squadrons, where, Vanquishing and taken, nevermore to offend With hostile arms, he is compelled to swear. Behold! he slights his solemn oath -- to wend, Anew, with reckless steps, into the snare. Lo! there he leaves his eyes; and his array, Blind as the moldwarp, hence their lord convey.

XIX "You see him named from Arles, victorious Hugh, From Italy the Berengari chase! Whom, quelled and broken twice and thrice, anew Now the Bavarians, now the Huns, replace. O'ermatched, he then for peace is fain to sue; Nor long survives, nor he who fills his place; To Berengarius yielding his domains, Who, repossest of all his kingdom, reigns.

XX "You see, her goodly pastor to sustain, Another Charles set fire to Italy; Who has two kings in two fierce battles slain, Manfred and Conradine, and after see His bands, who seem to vex the new-won reign With many wrongs, and who dispersedly -- Some here, some there -- in different cities dwell. Slain on the rolling of the vesper-bell."

XXI He shows them next (but after interval, 'Twould seem, of many and many an age, not years) How through the Alps, a captain out of Gaul, To war upon the great Viscontis, steers; And seems to straiten Alexandria's wall, Girt with his forces, foot and cavaliers: A garrison within, an ambuscade Without the works, the warlike duke has laid;

XXII And the French host, decoyed in cunning wise Thither where the surrounding toils are spread, Conducted on that evil enterprise By Armagnac, the Gallic squadron's head, Slaughtered throughout the spacious champaign lies, Or is to Alexandria captive led: While, swoln not more with water than with blood, Tanarus purples wide Po's ample flood.

XXIII Successively that castellain displayed One hight of Marca, of the Anjouites three. How "Marsi, Daunians, Salentines," (he said) "And Bruci, these shall oft molest, you see: Yet not by Frank or Latian's friendly aid Shall one delivered from destruction be. Lo! from the realm, as oft as they attack, Alphonso and Gonsalvo beat them back.

XXIV "You see the eighth Charles, amid his martial train, The flower of France, through Alpine pass has pressed. Who Liris fords, and takes all Naples' reign, Yet draws not sword nor lays a lance in rest: All, save that rock which -- Typheus' endless pain -- Lies on the giant's belly, arms, and breast: By Inigo del Guasto here withstood, Derived from Avalo's illustrious blood."

XXV The warder of the castle, who makes clear To beauteous Bradamant that history, Says, having shown her Ischia's island, "Ere I lead you further other things to see, I'll tell what my great-grandfather whilere -- I then a child -- was wont to tell to me. Which in like manner (that great-grandsire said), As well to him his father whilome read;

XXVI "And his from sire or grandsire heard recite; So son from sire; even to that baron, who Heard it related by the very wight, That these fair pictures without pencil drew, Which you see painted azure, red, and white. He when to Pharamond (as now to you) Was shown the castle on the rocky mount, Heard him relate the things I now recount.

XXVII "Heard him relate, how in that fortilage From that good knight should spring, who, 'twould appear, Guards it so well, he scorns the fires that rage, Even to the Pharo, flaming far and near, Then, or within short space, and in that age, (And named the week and day, as well as year,) A noble warrior, unexcelled in worth By other, that has yet appeared on earth.

XXVIII "Nereus less fair, Achilles was less strong, Less was Ulysses famed for daring feat; Nestor, that knew so much and lived so long, Less prudent; nimble Ladas was less fleet; Less liberal and less prompt to pardon wrong, Caesar, whose praises ancient tales repeat. So that, compared with him, in Ischia born, Each might appear of vaunted virtues shorn;

XXIX "And if illustrious Crete rejoiced of old In giving birth to Coelus' godlike heir; If Thebes in Hercules and Bacchus bold, If Delos boasted of her heavenly pair, Nought should as well this happy isle withhold From lifting high her glorious head in air, When that great Marquis shall in her be born, Whom with its every grace shall Heaven adorn.

XXX "Sage Merlin said -- and oft renewed that say -- He was reserved to flourish in an age, When most opprest the Roman empire lay, That he might free that holy heritage: But as some deeds of his I must display Hereafter, these I will not now presage. So spake that wizard, and renewed the story, Which told of Charlemagne's predestined glory.

XXXI "Lewis, (so learned Merlin said,) is woe To have brought to Italy King Charlemagne, Whom he called in to harass, not o'erthrow That ancient rival of his goodly reign; At his return declares himself his foe, And, leagued with Venice, would the king detain. Behold that valiant monarch couch his spear, And in his foes' despite a passage clear.

XXXII "But his new kingdom leaving to his band, Far other destiny awaits that throng: For, with the Mantuan's friendly succour manned, Gonsalvo to the war returns so strong, He leaves not in few months, by sea or land, One living head, his slaughtered troops among. But then, because of one by treason spent, In him appears the joy of triumph shent."

XXXIII So saying, to his guests the cavalier Alphonso, of Pescara hight, displayed: "Who in a thousand feats will shine more clear Than the resplendent carbuncle," he said. "Behold, deceived by faithless treaty, here, Mid snares by the malignant Aethiop laid, Transfixt with deadly dart the warrior lies, In whom the age's worthiest champion dies."

XXXIV Under Italian escort next they see Where the twelfth Lewis o'er the hills is gone; Has by its roots uptorn the mulberry, And in Viscontis' land the lilies sown: "Treading in Charles's steps, by him shall be Bridges athwart the Garigliano thrown. Yet after shall he mourn his army's slaughter, Dispersed and drowning in that fatal water."

XXXV (The lord pursues) "with no less overthrow, Broken in Puglia, see the Gallic train. In him who twice entraps the routed foe, Gonslavo you behold, the pride of Spain. Fortune to Lewis a fair face shall show, As late a troubled mien, upon that plain, Which even to where vext Adria pours her tides, Po, between Alp and Apennine, divides."

XXXVI The host reproved himself, while so he said, And pieced his tale, as having left untold Things first in order; next to them displayed A royal castle by its warder sold. A prisoner by the faithless Switzer made, He shows the lord who hired him with his gold: Which double treason, without couching lance, Has given the victory to the king of France.

XXXVII That warder then shows Caesar Borgia, grown Puissant in Italy, through this king's grace; For all Rome's peerage, and all lords that own Her sway, he into exile seems to chase: Then shows the king, that will the saw take down, And papal acorns in Bologna place: Then Genoa's burghers, by this monarch broke, And rebel city stooping to his yoke.

XXXVIII "You see," (pursued that warder,) "how with dead Covered is Ghiaradada's green champaign. It seems each city opes her gates through dread; And Venice scarce her freedom can maintain. You see he suffers not the Church's head, Passing the narrow confines of Romagne, Modena from Ferrara's duke to reave; Who would not to that prince a remnant leave.

XXXIX "Nay he Bologna rescues from his sway; Whither the Bentivogli them betake. You next see Lewis siege to Brescia lay, And the close-straitened city storm and take; Felsina almost at the same time stay With succour, and the papal army break; And next, 'twoud seem, that either hostile band Lies tented upon Chassis' level strand.

XL "On this side France, upon the other Spain, Extend their files, and battle rages high; Fast fall the men at arms in either train, And the green earth is tinged with crimson dye. Flooded with human gore seems every drain; Mars doubts to whom to give the victory; When through Alphonso's worth the Spaniards yield, And the victorious Franks maintain the field;

XLI "And, for Ravenna sacked and ravaged lies, The Roman pastor bites his lips through woe; Called by him, from the hills, in tempest's guise, Swoop the fierce Germans on the fields below. It seems each Frenchman unresisting flies, Chased by their bands beyond the mountain snow, And that they set the mulberry's thriving shoot There, whence they plucked the golden lily's root.

XLII "Behold the Frank returns, and here behold Is broken, by the faithless Swiss betrayed, He, that his royal father seized and sold, Whose succour dearly by the youth is paid. Those over whom false Fortune's wheel had rolled, Erewhile, beneath another king arraid, You here behold, preparing to efface With vengeful deed Novara's late disgrace;

XLIII "And see with better auspices return The valiant Francis, foremost of his train, Who so shall break the haughty Switzer's horn, That little short of spent their bands remain; And them shall nevermore the style adorn, Usurped by that foul troop of churlish vein, Of scourge of princes, and the faith's defence, To which those rustics rude shall make pretence.

XLIV "Lo! he takes Milan, in the league's despite: Lo! with the youthful Sforza makes accord: Lo! Bourbon the fair city keeps, in right Of Francis, from the furious German horde: Lo! while in other high emprize and fight Elsewhere is occupied his royal lord, Nor knows the pride and license of his host, Through these the city shall anew be lost.

XLV "Lo! other French who his grandsire's vein Inherits, not his generous name alone! Who by the Church's favour will regain -- The Gaul expelled -- a land which was his own. France too returns, but keeps a tighter rein, Nor over Italy, as wont, has flown: For Mantua's noble duke the foe shall stay, And, at Ticino's passage, bar his way.

XLVI "Though on his cheek youth's blossoms scarce appear, Worthy immortal glory, Frederick shines; And well that praise deserves, since by his spear, But more by care and skill, Pavia's lines Against the French defends that cavalier, And frustrates the sea-lion's bold designs. You see two marquises, Italia's boast, And both, alike the terror of our host.

XLVII "Both of one blood and of one nest they are; The foremost is the bold Alphonso's seed, Whom, led by that false black into the snare, You late beheld in purple torrent bleed. You see defeated by his counsel ware, How oft the Franks from Italy recede. The next, of visage so benign and bright, Is lord of Guasto and Alphonso hight;

XLVIII "This is that goodly knight, whose praise you heard When rugged Ischia's island I displayed, Of whom sage Merlin, with prophetic word, To Pharamond such mighty matters said; Whose birth should to that season be deferred, When more than ever such a champion's aid, Against the barbarous enemy's attack, Vext Italy, and Church, and Empire lack.

XLIX "He in his cousin of Pescara's rear, -- Prosper Colonna, chief of that emprize -- Makes the rude Switzer pay Bicocca dear, Paid by the Frenchman in yet dearer wise. Behold where France prepares for fresh career, And to repair her many losses tries Behold one host on Lombardy descend! Behold that other against Naples wend!

L "Bust she, that moves us like the dust which flies Before the restless wind, which whirls it round, Lifts if aloft awhile, and from the skies Blows back anew the rising cloud to ground, To a hundred thousand swells, in Francis' eyes, The soldiers who Pavia's walls surround. The monarch sees but that which he commands, Nor marks how wax or waste his leaguering bands.

LI " `Tis thus that, through the greedy servant's sin, And easy sovereign's goodness, on his side, The files beneath his banners muster thin, When in his midnight camp, `to arms,' is cried, For by the wary Spaniards charged within His ramparts is he; foes that with the guide Of Avalo's fair lineage, would assay To make to heaven or hell their desperate way.

LII "You see the best of the nobility Of all fair France extinguished on the field; How many swords, how many lances, see The Spaniards round the valiant monarch wield. Behold! his horse falls under him; yet he Will neither own himself subdued, or yield; Though to assault him from all sides is run By wrathful bands, and succour there is none.

LIII "The monarch well defends him from the foe, All over bathed with blood of hostile vein. But valour stoops at last to numbers; lo! The king is taken, is conveyed to Spain; And all upon Pescara's lord bestow And him of that inseparable twain -- Of Guasto hight -- the praise and prime renown For that great king captived and host o'erthrown.

LIV "This host o'erthrown upon Pavia's plains, That, bound for Naples, halts upon its way: As an ill-nourished lamp or taper wanes, For want of wax or oil, with flickering ray. Lo! the king leaves his sons in Spanish chains, And home returns, his own domain to sway. Lo! while in Italy he leads his band, Another wars upon his native land.

LV "In every part you see how Rome is woe, Mid ruthless rapine, murder, fire, and rape. See all to wasting rack and ruin go, And nothing human or divine escape. The league's men hear the shrieks, behold the glow Of hostile fires, and lo! they backward shape Their course, where they should hurry on their way, And leave the pontiff to his foes a prey.

LVI "Lautrec the monarch sends with other bands; Yet not anew to war on Lombardy; But to deliver from rapacious hands The Church's head and limbs, already free, So slowly he performs the king's commands. Next, overrun by him the kingdom see, And his strong arms against the city turned, Wherein the Syren's body lies inurned.

LVII "Lo! the imperial squadrons thither steer, Aid to the leaguered city to convey; And lo! burnt, sunk, destroyed, they disappear, Encountered by the Doria in mid-way. Behold! how Fortune light does shift and veer, So friendly to the Frenchman till this day! Who slays their host with fever, not with lance; Nor of a thousand one returns to France.

LVIII These histories and more the pictures shew, (For to tell all would ask too long a strain) In beauteous colours and of different hue; Since such that hall, it these could well contain. The painting twice and thrice those guests review, Nor how to leave them knows the lingering train, 'Twould seem; perusing oft what they behold Inscribed below the beauteous work in gold.

LIX When with these pictures they their sight had fed, And talked long while -- these ladies and the rest -- They to their chambers by that Lord were led, Wont much to worship every worthy guest. Already all were sleeping, when her bed At last Duke Aymon's beauteous daughter prest. She here, she there, her restless body throws, Now right, now left, but vainly seeks repose:

LX Yet slumber toward dawn, and in a dream The form of her Rogero seems to view. The vision cries: "Why vex yourself, and deem Things real which are hollow and untrue? Backwards shall sooner flow the mountainstream Than I to other turn my thought from you. When you I love not, then unloved by me This heart, these apples of mine eyes, will be.

LXI "Hither have I repaired (it seemed he said) To be baptized and do as I professed. If I have lingered, I have been delaid, By other wound than that of Love opprest." With that he vanished from the martial maid, And with the vision broken was her rest. New floods of tears the awakened damsel shed, And to herself in this sad fashion said:

LXII "What pleased was but a dream; alas! a sheer Reality is this my waking bane; My joy a dream and prompt to disappear, No dream my cruel and tormenting pain. Ah! wherefore what I seemed to see and hear, Cannot I, waking, see and hear again? What ails ye, wretched eyes, that closed ye show Unreal good, and open but on woe?

LXIII "Sweet sleep with promised peace my soul did buoy, But I to bitter warfare wake anew; Sweet sleep but brought with it fallacious joy, But -- sure and bitter -- waking ills ensue. If falsehood so delight and truth annoy, Never more may I see or hear what's true! If sleeping brings me weal, and watching woe, The pains of waking may I never know!

LXIV "Blest animals that sleep through half the year, Nor ope your heavy eyelids, night nor day! For if such tedious sleep like death appear, Such watching is like life, I will not say, Since -- such my lot, beyond all wont, severe -- I death in watching, life in sleep assay. But oh! if death such sleep resemble, Death, Even now I pray three stop my fleeting breath!"

LXV The clouds were gone, the horizon overspread With glowing crimson by the new-born sun, And in these signs, unlike the past, was read A better promise of the day begun: When Bradamant upstarted from her bed, And armed her for the journey to be done, Her thanks first rendered to the courteous lord, For his kind of cheer and hospitable board.

LXVI And found, the lady messenger, with maid And squire, had issued from the castled hold, And was a-field, where her arrival stayed Those three good warriors, those the damsel bold The eve before had on the champaign laid, Cast from their horses by her lance of gold; And who had suffered, to their mighty pain, All night, the freezing wind and pattering rain.

LXVII Add to such ill, that, hungering sore for food, They and their horses, through the livelong night, Trampling the mire, with chattering teeth, had stood: But (what well-nigh engendered more despite -- Say not well nigh -- more moved the warrior's mood) Was that they knew the damsel would recite How they had been unhorsed by hostile lance In the first course which they had run in France;

LXVIII And -- each resolved to die or else his name Forthwith in new encounter to retrieve -- That Ulany, the message-bearing dame, (Whose style no longer I unmentioned leave), A fairer notion of their knightly fame Than heretofore, might haply now conceive, Bold Bradamant anew to fight defied, When of the drawbridge clear they her descried;

LXIX Not thinking, howsoe'er, she was a maid, Who in no look or act the maid confest; Duke Aymon's daughter, loth to be delaid, Refuses, as a traveller that is pressed. But they so often and so sorely prayed, That she could ill refuse the kings' request. Her lance she levels, at three strokes extends All three on earth, and thus the warfare ends:

LXX For Bradamant no more her courser wheeled, But turned her back upon the foes o'erthrown. They, that intent to gain the golden shield, Had sought a land so distant from their own, Rising in sullen silence from the field (For speech with all their hardihood was gone) Appeared as stupefied by their surprise, Nor to Ulania dared to lift their eyes.

LXXI For they, as thither they their course addrest, Had vaunted to the maid in boasting vein, No paladin or knight with lance in rest, Against the worst his saddle could maintain. To make them vail yet more their haughty crest, And look upon the world with less disdain, She tells them, by no paladin or peer Were they unhorsed, but by a woman's spear.

LXXII "Now what of Roland's and Rinaldo's might, Not without reason held in such renown, Ought you to think (she said) when thus in fight Ye by a female hand are overthrown? Say, if the buckler one of these requite, -- Better than by a woman ye have done, Will ye by those redoubted warriors do? So think not I, nor haply think so you.

LXXIII "This may suffice you all; and need in none A clearer proof of prowess to display; And who desires, if rashly any one Desires, again his valour to assay, Would add but scathe to shame, now made his own; Now; and the same to-day as yesterday. Unless perchance he thinks it praise and gain, By such illustrious warriors to be slain."

LXXIV When they by Ulany were certified A woman's hand had caused their overthrow, Who with a deeper black than pitch had dyed Their honour, heretofore so fair of show; And more than ten her story testified, Where one sufficed -- with such o'erwhelming woe Were they possest, they with such fury burned, They well nigh on themselves their weapons turned.

LXXV What arms they had upon them, they unbound, And cast them, strung by rage and fury sore, Into the moat which girt that castle round, Nor even kept the faulchions which they wore; And, since a woman them had cast to ground, O'erwhelmed with rage and shame, the warriors swore, Themselves of such a crying shame to clear, They, without bearing arms, would pass a year;

LXXVI And that they evermore afoot would fare Up hill or down, by mountain or by plain, Nor, when the year was ended, would they wear The knightly mail or climb the steed again; Save that from other they by force should bear, In battle, other steeds and other chain. So, without arms, to punish their misdeeds, These wend a-foot, those others on their steeds.

LXXVII Lodged in a township at the fall of night, Duke Aymon's daughter, journeying Paris-ward, Hears how King Agramant was foiled in fight. Good harbourage withal of bed and board, She in her hostel found; but small delight This and all comforts else to her afford. For the sad damsel meat and sleep foregoes, Nor finds a resting place; far less repose.

LXXVIII But so I will not on her story dwell, As not to seek anew the valiant twain; Who, by consent, beside a lonely well, Had tied their goodly coursers by the rein. I of their war to you somedeal will tell, A war not waged for empire or domain, But that the best should buckle to his side Good Durindana, and Baiardo ride.

LXXIX No signal they, no trumpet they attend, To blow them to the lists, no master who Should teach them when to foin and when to fend, Or wake their sleeping wrath; their swords they drew: Then, one against the other, boldly wend, With lifted blades, the quick and dextrous two. Already 'gan the champions' fury heat, And fast and hard their swords were heard to beat.

LXXX None e'er by proof two other faulchions chose For sound and solid, able to endure Three strokes alone of such conflicting foes, Passing all means and measure; but so pure, So perfect was their temper, from all blows By such repeated trial so secure, They in a thousand strokes might clash on high, -- Nay more, nor yet the solid metal fly.

LXXXI With mickle industry, with mighty pain And art, Rinaldo, shifting here and there, Avoids the deadly dint of Durindane, Well knowing how 'tis wont to cleave and tear. Gradasso struck with greater might and main, But well nigh all his strokes were spent in air; Of, if he sometimes smote, he smote on part, Where Durindana wrought less harm than smart.

LXXXII Rinaldo with more skill his blade inclined, And stunned the arm of Sericana's lord. Him oft he reached where casque and coat confined, And often raked his haunches with the sword: But adamantine was his corslet's rind, Nor link the restless faulchion broke or bored. If so impassive was the paynim's scale, Know, charmed by magic was the stubborn mail.

LXXXIII Without reposing they long time had been, Upon their deadly battle so intent, That, save on one another's troubled mien, Their angry eyes the warriors had not bent. When such despiteous war and deadly spleen, Diverted by another strife, were spent, Hearing a mighty noise, both champions turn, And good Baiardo, sore bested, discern.

LXXXIV They good Baiardo by a monster view, -- A bird, and bigger than that courser -- prest. Above three yards in length appeared to view The monster's beak; a bat in all the rest. Equipt with feathers, black as ink in hue, And piercing talons was the winged pest; An eye of fire it had, a cruel look, And, like ship-sails, two spreading pinions shook.

LXXXV Perhaps it was a bird; but when or where Another bird resembling this was seen I know not, I, nor have I any where, Except in Turpin, heard that such has been. Hence that it was a fiend, to upper air Evoked from depths of nether hell I ween; Which Malagigi raised by magic sleight, That so he might disturb the champions' fight.

LXXXVI So deemed Rinaldo too: and contest sore 'Twixt him and Malagigi hence begun; But he would not confess the charge; nay swore, Even by the light which lights the glorious sun, That he might clear him of the blame he bore, He had not that which was imputed done. Whether a fiend or fowl, the pest descends, And good Baiardo with his talons rends.

LXXXVII Quickly the steed, possessed of mickle might, Breaks loose, and, in his fury and despair, Against the monster strives with kick and bite; But swiftly he retires and soars in air: He thence returning, prompt to wheel and smite, Circles and beats the courser, here and there. Wholly unskilled in fence, and sore bested, Baiardo swiftly from the monster fled.

LXXXVIII Baiardo to the neighbouring forest flies, Seeking the closest shade and thickest spray; Above the feathered monster flaps, with eyes Intent to mark where widest is the way. But that good horse the greenwood threads, and lies At last within a grot, concealed from day. When the winged beast has lost Baiardo's traces. He soars aloft, and other quarry chases.

LXXXIX Rinaldo and Gradasso, who descried Baiardo's flight, the conqueror's destined meed, The battle to suspend, on either side, Till they regained the goodly horse, agreed, Saved from that fowl which chased him, far and wide; Conditioning whichever found the steed, With him anew should to that fountain wend, Beside whose brim their battle they should end.

XC Quitting the fount, they follow, where they view New prints upon the forest greensward made: By much Baiardo distances the two, Whose tardy feet their wishes ill obeyed. Himself the king on his Alfana threw, That near at hand was tethered in the glade, Leaving his foe behind in evil plight; -- Never more malcontent and vext in sprite.

XCI Rinaldo ceased in little time to spy Baiardo's traces, who strange course had run; And made for thorny thicket, wet or dry, Tree, rock, or river, with design to shun Those cruel claws, which, pouncing from the sky, To him such outrage and such scathe had done. Rinaldo, after labour vain and sore To await him at the fount returned once more;

XCII In case, as erst concerted by the twain, The king should thither with the steed resort; But having sought him there with little gain, Fared to his camp afoot, with piteous port. Return we now to him of Sericane, He that had sped withal in other sort, Who, not by judgement, guided to his prey, But his rare fortune, heard Baiardo neigh;

XCIII And found him shrowded in his caverned lair, So sore moreover by his fright opprest, He feared to issue into open air. Thus of that horse himself the king possest. Well he remembered their conditions were To bring him to the fount; but little pressed Now was that knight to keep the promise made, And thus within himself in secret said:

XCIV "Win him who will, in war and strife, I more Desire in peace to make the steed my own: From the world's further side, did I of yore Wend hitherward, and for this end alone. Having the courser, he mistakes me sore, That thinks the prize by me will be foregone. Him would Rinaldo conquer, let him fare To Ind, as I to France have made repair.

XCV "For him no less secure is Sericane, Than twice for me has been his France," he said, And pricked for Arles, along the road most plain, And in its haven found the fleet arrayed. Freighted with him, the steed and Durindane, A well-rigged galley from that harbour weighed. Of these hereafter! -- I, at other call, Now quit Rinaldo, king, and France, and all.

XCVI Astolpho in his flight will I pursue, That made his hippogryph like palfrey flee, With reins and sell, so quick the welkin through; That hawk and eagle soar a course less free. O'er the wide land of Gaul the warrior flew From Pyrenees to Rhine, from sea to sea. He westward to the mountains turned aside, Which France's fertile land from Spain divide.

XCVII To Arragon he past out of Navarre, -- They who beheld, sore wondering at the sight -- Then, leaves he Tarragon behind him far, Upon his left, Biscay upon his right: Traversed Castile, Gallicia, Lisbon, are Seville and Cordova, with rapid flight; Nor city on sea-shore, nor inland plain, Is unexplored throughout the realm of Spain.

XCVIII Beneath him Cadiz and the strait he spied, Where whilom good Alcides closed the way; From the Atlantic to the further side Of Egypt, bent o'er Africa, to stray; The famous Balearic isles descried, And Ivica, that in his passage lay; Toward Arzilla then he turned the rein, Above the sea that severs it from Spain.

XCIX Morocco, Fez, and Oran, looking down, Hippona, Argier, he, and Bugia told, Which from all cities bear away the crown, No palm or parsley wreath, but crown of gold; Noble Biserta next and Tunis-town, Capys, Alzerba's isle, the warrior bold, Tripoli, Berniche, Ptolomitta viewed, And into Asia's land the Nile pursued.

C 'Twixt Atlas' shaggy ridges and the shore, He viewed each regions in his spacious round; He turned his back upon Carena hoar, And skimmed above the Cyrenaean ground; Passing the sandy desert of the Moor, In Albajada, reached the Nubian's bound; Left Battus' tomb behind him on the plain, And Ammon's, now dilapidated, fane.

CI To other Tremizen he posts, where bred As well the people are in Mahound's style; For other Aethiops then his pinions spread, Which face the first, and lie beyond the Nile. Between Coallee and Dobada sped, Bound for the Nubian city's royal pile; Threading the two, where, ranged on either land, Moslems and Christians watch, with arms in hand.

CII In Aethiopia's realm Senapus reigns, Whose sceptre is the cross; of cities brave, Of men, of gold possest, and broad domains, Which the Red Sea's extremest waters lave. A faith well nigh like ours that king maintains, Which man from his primaeval doom may save. Here, save I err in what their rites require, The swarthy people are baptized with fire.

CIII Astolpho lighted in the spacious court, Intending on the Nubian king to wait. Less strong than sumptuous is the wealthy fort, Wherein the royal Aethiop keeps his state, The chains that serve the drawbridge to support, The bolts, the bars, the hinges of the gate, And finally whatever we behold Herewrought in iron, there is wrought in gold.

CIV High prized withal, albeit it so abound, Is that best metal; lodges built in air Which on all sides the wealthy pile surround, Clear colonnades with crystal shafts upbear. Of green, white, crimson, blue and yellow ground, A frieze extends below those galleries fair. Here at due intervals rich gems combine, And topaz, sapphire, emerald, ruby shine.

CV In wall and roof and pavement scattered are Full many a pearl, full many a costly stone. Here thrives the balm; the plants were ever rare, Compared with these, which were in Jewry grown, The musk which we possess from thence we bear, In fine those products from this clime are brought, Which in our regions are so prized and sought.

CVI The soldan, king of the Egyptian land, Pays tribute to this sovereign, as his head, They say, since having Nile at his command He may divert the stream to other bed. Hence, with its district upon either hand, Forthwith might Cairo lack its daily bread. Senapus him his Nubian tribes proclaim; We Priest and Prester John the sovereign name.

CVII Of all those Aethiop monarchs, beyond measure, The first was this, for riches and for might; But he with all his puissance, all his treasure, Alas! had miserably lost his sight. And yet was this the monarch's least displeasure; Vexed by a direr and a worse despite; Harassed, though richest of those Nubian kings, By a perpetual hunger's cruel stings.

CVIII Whene'er to eat or drink the wretched man Prepared, by that resistless need pursued, Forthwith -- infernal and avenging clan -- Appeared the monstrous Harpies' craving brood; Which, armed with beak and talons, overran Vessel and board, and preyed upon the food; And what their wombs suffice not to receive Foul and defiled the loathsome monsters leave.

CIX And this, because upborn by such a tide Of full blown honours, in his unripe age, For he excelled in heart and nerve, beside The riches of his royal heritage, Like Lucifer, the monarch waxed in pride, And war upon his maker thought to wage. He with his host against the mountain went, Where Egypt's mighty river finds a vent.

CX Upon this hill which well-nigh kissed the skies, Piercing the clouds, the king had heard recite, Was seated the terrestrial paradise, Where our first parents flourished in delight. With camels, elephants, and footmen hies Thither that king, confiding in his might; With huge desire if peopled be the land To bring its nations under his command.

CXI God marred the rash emprise, and from on high Sent down an angel, whose destroying sword A hundred thousand of that chivalry Slew, and to endless night condemned their lord. Emerging, next, from hellish caverns, fly These horrid harpies and assault his board; Which still pollute or waste the royal meat, Nor leave the monarch aught to drink or eat.

CXII And him had plunged in uttermost despair One that to him erewhile had prophesied The loathsome Harpies should his daily fare Leave unpolluted only, when astride Of winged horse, arriving through the air, An armed cavalier should be descried. And, for impossible appears the thing, Devoid of hope remains the mournful king.

CXIII Now that with wonderment his followers spy The English cavalier so make his way, O'er every wall, o'er every turret high, Some swiftly to the king the news convey. Who calls to mind that ancient prophecy, And heedless of the staff, his wonted stay, Through joy, with outstretched arms and tottering feet, Comes forth, the flying cavalier to meet.

CXIV Within the castle court Astolpho flew, And there, with spacious wheels, on earth descended; The king, conducted by his courtly crew, Before the warrior knelt, with arms extended, And cried: "Thou angel send of God, thou new Messiah, if too sore I have offended, For mercy, yet, bethink thee, 'tis our bent To sin, and thine to pardon who repent.

CXV "Knowing my sin, I ask not, I, to be -- Such grace I dare not ask -- restored to light; For well I ween such power resides in thee, As Being accepted in thy Maker's sight. Let it suffice, that I no longer see, Nor let me with perpetual hunger fight. At least, expel the harpies' loathsome horde, Nor let them more pollute my ravaged board;

CXVI "And I to build thee, in my royal hold, A holy temple, made of marble, swear, With all its portals and its roof of gold, And decked, within and out, with jewels rare. Here shall thy mighty miracle be told In sculpture, and thy name the dome shall bear." So spake the sightless king of Nubia's reign, And sought to kiss the stranger's feet in vain.

CXVII "Nor angel" -- good Astolpho made reply -- "Nor new Messiah, I from heaven descend; No less a mortal and a sinner I, To such high grace unworthy to pretend. To slay the monsters I all means will try, Or drive them from the realm which they offend. If I shall prosper, be thy praises paid To God alone, who sent me to thine aid.

CXVIII "Offer these vows to God, to him well due; To him thy churches build, thine altars rear." Discoursing so, together wend the two, 'Mid barons bold, that king and cavalier. The Nubian prince commands the menial crew Forthwith to bring the hospitable cheer; And hopes that now the foul, rapacious band, Will not dare snatch the victual from his hand.

CXIX Forthwith a solemn banquet they prepare Within the gorgeous palace of the king. Seated alone here guest and sovereign are, And the attendant troop the viands bring. Behold! a whizzing sound is heard in air, Which echoes with the beat of savage wing. Behold! the band of harpies thither flies, Lured by the scent of victual from the skies.

CXX All bear a female face of pallid dye, And seven in number are the horrid band; Emaciated with hunger, lean, and dry; Fouler than death; the pinions they expand Ragged, and huge, and shapeless to the eye; The talon crook'd; rapacious is the hand; Fetid and large the paunch; in many a fold, Like snake's, their long and knotted tails are rolled.

CXXI The fowls are heard in air; then swoops amain The covey well nigh in that instant, rends The food, o'erturns the vessels, and a rain Of noisome ordure on the board descends. To stop their nostrils king and duke are fain; Such an insufferable stench offends. Against the greedy birds, as wrath excites, Astolpho with his brandished faulchion smites.

CXXII At croup or collar now he aims his blow, Now strikes at neck or pinion; but on all, As if he smote upon a bag of tow, The strokes without effect and languid fall. This while nor dish nor goblet they forego; Nor void those ravening fowls the regal hall, Till they have feasted full, and left the food Waste or polluted by their rapine rude.

CXXIII That king had firmly hoped the cavalier Would from his royal seat the harpies scare. He now, that hope foregone, with nought to cheer, Laments, and sighs, and groans in his despair. Of his good horn remembers him the peer, Whose clangours helpful aye in peril are, And deems his bugle were the fittest mean To free the monarch from those birds unclean;

CXXIV And first to fill their ears, to king and train, With melted wax, Astolpho gives command; That every one who hears the deafening strain May not in panic terror fly the land. He takes the reins, his courser backs again, Grasps the enchanted bugle in his hand; And to the sewer next signs to have the board Anew with hospitable victual stored.

CXXV The meats he to an open galley bears, And other banquet spreads on other ground. Behold, as wont, the harpy-squad appears; Astolpho quickly lifts the bugle's round; And (for unguarded are their harassed ears) The harpies are not proof against the sound; In terror form the royal dome they speed, Nor meat nor aught beside the monsters heed.

CXXVI After them spurs in haste the valiant peer: And on the winged courser forth is flown, Leaving beneath him, in his swift career, The royal castle and the crowded town; The bugle ever pealing, far and near. The harpies fly toward the torrid zone; Nor light until they reach that loftiest mountain Where springs, if anywhere, Nile's secret fountain.

CXXVII Almost at that aerial mountain's feet, Deep under earth, extends a gloomy cell. The surest pass for him, as they repeat, That would at any time descend to hell. Hither the predatory troop retreat, As a safe refuge from the deafening yell. As far, and farther than Cocytus' shore Descending, till that horn is heard no more.

CXXVIII At that dark hellish inlet, which a way Opens to him who would abandon light, The terrifying bugle ceased to bray; -- The courser furled his wings and stopt his flight. But, ere Astolpho further I convey, -- Not to depart from my accustomed rite -- Since on all sides the paper overflows, I shall conclude my canto and repose.

Canto 34

ARGUMENT In the infernal pit Astolpho hears Of Lydia's woe, by smoke well-nigh opprest. He mounts anew, and him his courser bears To the terrestrial paradise addrest. By John advised in all, to heaven he steers; Of some of his lost sense here repossest, Orlando's wasted wit as well he takes, Sees the Fates spin their threads, and earthward makes.

I O fierce and hungry harpies, that on blind And erring Italy so full have fed! Whom, for the scourge of ancient sins designed, Haply just Heaven to every board has sped. Innocent children, pious mothers, pined With hunger, die, and see their daily bread, -- The orphan's and the widow's scanty food -- Feed for a single feast that filthy brood.

II Too foul a fault was his, who did unclose That cave long shut, and made the passage free, From whence that greediness, that filth arose, Our Italy's infection doomed to be. Then was good life extinguished, and repose So banished, that with strife and poverty, With fear and trouble, is she still perplext, And shall for many a future year be vext:

III Till she her sons has shaken by the hair, And from Lethaean sloth to life restored; Exclaiming, "Will none imitate that pair, Zethes and Calais, with avenging sword Rescue from claws and stench our goodly fare, And cleanse and glad anew the genial board. As they king Phineus from those fowls released, And England's peer restored the Nubian's feast?"

IV Hunting those hideous birds, that cavalier Aye scared them with the bugle's horrid sound; Till at the mountain-cave his long career He closed, and ran the monstrous troop to ground: Attentive to the vent he held his ear, And in that troubled cavern heard rebound, Weeping and wailing, and eternal yell; Proof certain that its entrance led to hell.

V Astolpho doubts if he within shall wend, And see those wretched ones expelled from day; Into the central pit of earth descend, And the infernal gulfs around survey. "Why should I fear, that on my horn depend For certain succour?" (did the warrior say) "Satan and Pluto so will I confound, And drive before me their three-headed hound."

VI He speedily his winged horse forsook; (Him to a sapling near at hand he ties) The cavern entered next; but first he took His horn, whereon the knight in all relies. Not far has he advanced before a smoke, Obscure and foul, offends his nose and eyes. Ranker than pitch and sulphur is the stench, Yet not thereat does good Astolpho blench.

VII But as he more descends into that lair, So much he finds the smoke and vapour worse; And it appears he can no further fare; Nay, backward must retrace his way parforce. Lo! something (what he knows not) he in air Espies, that seems in motion, like a corse, Upon whose wasted form long time had beat The winter's rain and summers scorching heat.

VIII In that dim cavern was so little light, -- Yea, well-nigh might be said that light was none -- Nought sees or comprehends the English knight What wavers so, above that vapour dun: For surer proof, a stroke or two would smite With his good faulchion Otho's valiant son: Then deemed that duke it was a spirit, whom He seemed to strike amid the misty gloom.

IX When him a melancholy voice addressed; "Ah! without harming other, downward wend. Me but too sore the sable fumes molest, Which hither form the hellish fires ascend." Thereat the duke, amazed, his steps represt, And to the spirit cried: "So may Heaven send A respite from the vapours that exhale, As thou shalt deign to tell thy mournful tale!

X "And to be known on earth shouldst thou be fain, Thee will I satisfy." To him the sprite: So sweet it seems to me, in fame again Thus to return into the glorious light, My huge desire such favour to obtain, Forces my words from me in my despite, Constraining me to tell the things ye seek; Though 'tis annoyance and fatigue to speak.

XI "Lydia, the child of Lydia's king, am I, To proud estate and princely honours born, Condemned by righteous doom of God on high In murky smoke eternally to mourn: Because a kindly lover's constancy I, while I lived, repaid with spite and scorn. With countless others swarm these grots below, For the same sin, condemned to the same woe.

XII "Yet lower down, harsh Anaxarete Suffers worse pain where thicker fumes arise; Heaven changed her flesh to stone, and here to be Tormented, her afflicted spirit sties: In that unmoved she, hung in air, could see A lover vest by her barbarities. Here Daphne learns how rashly she had done In having given Apollo such a run."

XIII "Of hosts of ingrate women in this cell Confined, it would be tedious to recite, If, one by one, I upon these should dwell; So many, their amount is infinite. 'Twould be more tedious of the men to tell, Whose base ingratitude due pains requite; And whom, in a more dismal prison pent, Smoke blinds, and everlasting fires torment.

XIV "Since to belief soft woman is more prone, He that deceives her, merits heavier pain; To Theseus and to Jason this is known, And him that vexed of old the Latian reign, And him that of his brother Absalon Erewhile provoked the pestilent disdain, Because of Thamar; countless is the horde Of those who left a wife or wedded lord.

XV "But, rather of my state than theirs to shew, And sin which brought me hither: -- I was fair, But so much haughtier was than fair of hue, I know not if I ever equalled were: Nor which was most excessive of the two, My pride of beauty, could to thee declare. Though it is certain, Pride but took its rise In that rare loveliness which pleased all eyes.

XVI "There lived a Thracian knight, for warlike skill And prowess, upon earth without a peer; Who, voiced by many a worthy witness still, The praises of my matchless charms did hear. So that, of forethought and his own free will, Fixed all his love on me that cavalier; Weening this wife that I, upon my part, Should for his valour duly prize his heart.

XVII "He came to Lydia, and by faster tie Was fettered at my sight; and there enrolled Amid my royal father's chivalry, In mickle fame increased that baron bold. His feats of many a sort, and valour high Would make a tale too tedious to be told; With what his boundless merit had deserved, If a more grateful master he had served.

XVIII "Pamphylia, Caria, and Cilicia's reign, Through him, my father brought beneath his sway, Who never moved a-field his martial train, But when that warrior pointed out the way: He, when he deemed he had deserved such gain, Pressed close the Lydian king, upon a day, And craved me from the monarch as his wife, As meed of all that booty made in strife.

XIX "Rejected of the monarch was the peer, Who was resolved his child should highly wed; Not him who was a simple cavalier; Who, saving valour, was with nought bested. For on my father, bent on gain and gear And avarice, of all vice the fountain-head, Manners and merit for as little pass, As the lute's music on the lumpish ass.

XX "Alcestes, he of whom I speak (so hight That warrior), when he sees his suit denied, Repulsed by one, by whom he had most right To think that he should most be gratified, Craves his discharge, and threatens he this slight Will make the Lydian monarch dear abide. The Armenian, an old rival of my sire, And mortal for, he sought with this desire;

XXI "And so the monarch urged, he made him rear His banner, and attack my sire; and, through His famous feats, that Thracian cavalier Was named the captain of the invading crew. For the Armenian sovereign, far and near, All things (so said the knight) he would subdue; But claiming as his share, when all was won, My sovereign beauties for the service done.

XXII "I ill to you the mischief could express Alcestes did us in that war; o'erthrown By him four armies were, and he in less Than one short twelvemonth left us neither town, Not tower, save one, where cliffs forbade access: 'Twas here my sire, amid those of his own Whom most he loved, took refuge, in his need, With all the wealth he could collect with speed.

XXIII "Us in this fortilage the knight attacked, And shortly to such desperation drave, That gladly would the king have made a pact, To yield me for his consort, yea his slave, With half our realm, if certain by that act Himself from every other loss to save; Right sure he otherwise should forfeit all, And, after, die in bonds, a captive thrall.

XXIV "Before this happened, to try every way Of remedy the Lydian king was bent; And thither, where Alcestes' army lay, Me, the first cause of all the mischief, sent. To yield my person to him as a prey I with intention to Alcestes went; To bid him take what portion of our reign He pleased, and pacify his fierce disdain.

XXV "When of my coming that good knight does know, Me he encounters pale and trembling sore: 'Twould seem a vanquished man's a prisoner's brow, He, rather than a victor's semblance, bore. I who perceive he loves, address not now The warrior as I was resolved before. My vantage I descry, and shift my ground, To fit the state wherein that knight was found.

XXVI "To curse the warrior's passion I begun, And of his crying cruelty complained, Since foully by my father had he done, And me would have by violence constrained; Who with more grace my person would have won, Nor waited many days, had he maintained His course of courtship, as begun whilere. To king and all of us so passing dear;

XXVII "And if the honest suit he hoped to gain Had been at first rejected by my sire, 'Twas, he was somedeal of a churlish vein, Nor ever yielded to a first desire; He should not therefore, restive to the rein, Have left his goodly task, so prompt to ire; Sure, passing aye from good to better deed, In little time to win the wished-for meed;

XXVIII "And if my father would not have been won, To him I would so earnestly have prayed, That he my lover should have made his son; Nay, had my royal sire my suit gainsayed, For him in secret that I would have done, Wherewith he should have deemed himself appaid: But since, it seemed, he other means designed, Never to love him had I fixed my mind;

XXIX "And, though I sought him, at my father's hest, And pious love for him had been my guide, He might be sure, not long should be possest The bliss that I, in my despite, supplied; For the red blood should issue from my breast As soon as his ill will was satisfied On this my wretched person, which alone He so by brutal force should make his own.

XXX "With these, and words like these, I moved the peer, When I such puissance in myself espied; And him so contrite made, in desert drear, Was never seen a saint more mortified. Before my feet the doleful cavalier Fell down, and snatched a poniard from his side; Which, he protested, I parforce should take, And for so foul a sin my vengeance slake.

XXXI "To push my mighty victory to an end I scheme, when him I see in such distress, And give him hopes he may even yet pretend That I deservedly his love should bless, If he his ancient error will amend, Will of his realm my father repossess, And will in future time deserve my charms By love and service, not by force of arms.

XXXII "So promised he to do; and set me free, And let me, as I came, untouched, depart; Nor even to kiss my lips he ventured; see If he is yoked securely, if his heart Love has well touched with the desire of me, If he for him need feather other dart! He seeks the Armenian, why by pact should take Whatever spoil the conquering armies make;

XXXIII "And him, as best he might, would fain persuade To leave to Lydia's monarch his domain, Upon whose wasted lands his host had preyed, And rest content with his Armenian reign. -- He would not hear of this (the monarch said, With cheers with fury swolen) nor would refrain From pressing Lydia's king with armed band, So long as he possessed a palm of land;

XXXIV "And if the knight, when a vile woman sues, His purpose shift, let him the evil bear: He will not, for the warrior's asking, lose What he has hardly conquered in a year. Alcestes to the king his suit renews, And next complains, that he rejects his prayer. At length the Thracian fires, and threatens high, By love or force the monarch shall comply.

XXXV "So kindling anger waxed between the two, It urged them from ill words to worser deed: Upon the king his sword Alcestes drew; Though thousands aid the monarch in his need, And, in despite of all, their sovereign slew; And made that day as well the Armenian bleed, Backed by the Thracians' and Cilicians' aid And other followers, by the warrior paid.

XXXVI "His conquest he pursued, and, at his cost, Without expense to us, in less than one Short month, the kingdom by my father lost Restored; and, to repair the mischief done, (Beside spoil given) he conquered with his host, -- Taxing or taking what his arms had won -- Armenia and Cappadocia which confine; And scowered Hyrcania to the distant brine.

XXXVII "Him not to greet with triumphs, but to slay, Returning from that warfare, we intend; But, fearing failure, our design delay In that we find too many him befriend. Feeding him aye with hope from day to day, I for the Thracian warrior love pretend: But first declare my will that he oppose And prove his valour on our other foes;

XXXVIII "And him, now sole, now ill accompanied, On strange and perilous emprize I speed; Wherein a thousand knights might well have died; But all things happily with him succeed: For Victory was ever on his side; And oft with horrid foes of monstrous breed, With Giants and with Lestrigons, who brought Damage in our domains, the warrior fought.

XXXIX Nor Juno, nor Eurystheus, in such chase Ever renowned Alcides vext so sore, In Erymanth, Nemaea, Lerna, Thrace, Aetolia, Africa, by Tyber's shore, By Ebro's sunny bank, or other place, As (hiding murderous hate, while I implore) I exercise my lover still in strife, With the same fell design upon his life.

XL "Unable to achieve my first intent, I on a scheme of no less mischief fall: Through me, all deemed his friends by him are shent, Who thus bring down on him the hate of all. The Thracian leader never more content Than to obey, whatever be the call, Is at my bidding ever prompt to smite, Without regarding who or what the wight.

XLI "When I perceive that, through the warrior's mean, Extinguished is my father's every foe; And, conquered by himself, that knight is seen -- Friendless, through us -- I now the masque forego; What I, from him, beneath a flattering mien, Had hitherto concealed, I plainly show; -- What deep and deadly hate by bosom fired, And that I but to work his death desired.

XLII "Then, thinking if such course I should pursue, That public shame would still the deed attend, (For men too well my obligations knew, And would be prompt my cruelty to shend.) Meseemed enough to drive him from my view, So that he should no more my eyes offend: Nor would I more address or see the peer, Nor letter would receive or message hear.

XLIII "This my ingratitude in him such pain At length produced, that mastered by his woe, After entreating mercy long in vain, He sickened sore and sank beneath the blow. For pain which fits my sin, dark fumes now stain My cheek, and with salt rheum mine eyes o'erflow. Thus in eternal torment shall I dwell; For saving mercy helpeth not in hell."

XLIV Since wretched Lydia spake no more, the peer Would fain discern if more in torment lay; But, those false ingrates' curse, the darkness drear So waxed before him, and obscured the way, That not one inch advanced the cavalier; Nay, back parforce returns that warrior; nay, Himself from that increasing smoke to save, Makes for the mouth of the disastrous cave.

XLV The motion of his quickly shifting feet More savours of a run than walk or trot. Thus mounting the ascent in swift retreat, Astolpho sees the outlet of the grot; Where, through the darkness of that dismal seat And those foul fumes, a dawn of daylight shot; He from the cavern, sorely pained and pined, Issues at last, and leaves the smoke behind;

XLVI And next to bar the way against that band, Whose greedy bellies so for victual crave, Picks stones, and trees lays level with his brand, Which charged with pepper or amomum wave; And what might seem a hedge, with busy hand, As best he can, constructs before the cave; And so succeeds in blocking that repair, The harpies shall no more revisit air.

XLVII While in that cave Astolpho did remain, The fumes that from the sable pitch arose, Not only what appeared to sight did stain; But even so searched the flesh beneath his clothes, He sought some cleansing stream, long sought in vain; But found at length a limpid till, which rose Out of a living rock, within that wood, And bathed himself all over in the flood.

XLVIII Then backed the griffin-horse, and soared a flight Whereby to reach that mountain's top he schemes, Which little distant, with its haughty height, From the moon's circle good Astolpho deems; And, such desire to see it warms the knight, That he aspires to heaven, nor earth esteems. Through air so more and more the warrior strains, That he at last the mountain-summit gains.

XLIX Here sapphire, ruby, gold, and topaz glow, Pearl, jacinth, chrysolite and diamond lie, Which well might pass for natural flowers which blow, Catching their colour from that kindly sky. So green the grass! could we have such below, We should prefer it to our emerald's dye. As fair the foliage of those pleasant bowers! Whose trees are ever filled with fruit and flowers.

L Warble the wanton birds in verdant brake, Azure, and red, and yellow, green and white. The quavering rivulet and quiet lake In limpid hue surpass the crystal bright. A breeze, which with one breath appears to shake, Aye, without fill or fall, the foliage light, To the quick air such lively motion lends, That Day's oppressive noon in nought offends;

LI And this, mid fruit and flower and verdure there, Evermore stealing divers odours, went; And made of those mixt sweets a medley rare, Which filled the spirit with a calm content. In the mid plain arose a palace fair, Which seemed as if with living flames it brent. Such passing splendour and such glorious light Shot from those walls, beyond all usage bright.

LII Thither where those transparent walls appear, Which cover more than thirty miles in measure, At ease and slowly moved the cavalier, And viewed the lovely region at his leisure; And deemed -- compared with this -- that sad and drear, And seen by heaven and nature with displeasure, Was the foul world, wherein we dwell below: So jocund this, so sweet and fair in show!

LIII Astound with wonder, paused the adventurous knight, When to that shining palace he was nigh, For, than the carbuncle more crimson bright, It seemed one polished stone of sanguine dye. O mighty wonder! O Daedalian sleight! What fabric upon earth with this can vie? Let them henceforth be silent, that in story Exalt the world's seven wonders to such glory!

LIV An elder, in the shining entrance-hall Of that glad house, towards Astolpho prest; Crimson his waistcoat was, and white his pall; Vermillion seemed the mantle, milk the vest: White was that ancient's hair, and white withal The bushy beard descending to his breast; And from his reverend face such glory beamed, Of the elect of Paradise he seemed.

LV He, with glad visage, to the paladin, Who humbly, from his sell had lighted, cries: "O gentle baron, that by will divine Have soared to this terrestrial paradise! Albeit nor you the cause of your design, Nor you the scope of your desire surmise, Believe, you not without high mystery steer Hitherward, from your arctic hemisphere.

LVI "You for instruction, how to furnish aid To Charles and to the Church in utmost need, With me to counsel, hither are conveyed, Who without counsel from such distance speed. But, son, ascribe not you the journey made To wit or worth; nor through your winged steed, Nor through your virtuous bugle had ye thriven, But that such helping grace from God was given.

LVII "We will discourse at better leisure more, And you what must be done shall after hear; But you that, through long fast, must hunger sore, First brace your strength with us, with genial cheer." Continuing his discourse, that elder hoar Raised mighty wonder in the cavalier, When he avouched, as he his name disclosed, That he THE HOLY GOSPEL, had composed;

LVIII He of our Lord so loved, the blessed John; Of whom a speech among the brethren went, He never should see death, and hence the Son Of God with this rebuke St. Peter shent; In saying, "What is it to thee, if one Tarry on earth, till I anew be sent?" Albeit he said not that he should not die, That so he meant to say we plain descry.

LIX Translated thither, he found company, The patriarch Enoch, and the mighty seer Elias; nor as yet those sainted three Have seen corruption, but in garden, clear Of earth's foul air, will joy eternity Of spring, till they angelic trumpets hear, Sounding through heaven and earth, proclaim aloud Christ's second advent on the silvery cloud.

LX The holy ancients to a chamber lead, With welcome kind, the adventurous cavalier; And in another then his flying steed Sufficiently with goodly forage cheer. Astolpho they with fruits of Eden feed, So rich, that in his judgment 'twould appear, In some sort might our parents be excused If, for such fruits, obedience they refused.

LXI When with that daily payment which man owes, Nature had been contented by the peer, As well of due refreshment as repose, (For all and every comfort found he here) And now Aurora left her ancient spouse, Not for his many years to her less dear, Rising from bed, Astolpho at his side The apostle, so beloved of God, espied.

LXII Much that not lawfully could here be shown, Taking him by the hand, to him he read. "To you, though come from France, may be unknown What there hath happened," next the apostle said; "Learn, your Orlando, for he hath foregone The way wherein he was enjoined to tread, Is visited of God, that ever shends Him whom he loveth best, when he offends:

LXIII "He, your Orlando, at his birth endowed With sovereign daring and with sovereign might, On whom, beyond all usage, God bestowed The grace, that weapon him should vainly smite, Because he was selected from the crowd To be defender of his Church's right. As he elected Sampson, called whilere The Jew against the Philistine to cheer;

LXIV "He, your Orlando, for such gifts has made Unto his heavenly Lord an ill return: Who left his people, when most needing aid, Then most abandoned to the heathens' scorn. Incestuous love for a fair paynim maid Had blinded so that knight, of grace forlorn, That twice and more in fell and impious strife The count has sought his faithful cousin's life.

LXV "Hence God hath made him mad, and, in this vein, Belly, and breast, and naked flesh expose; And so diseased and troubled is his brain, That none, and least himself, the champion knows, Nebuchadnezzar whilom to such pain God in his vengeance doomed, as story shows; Sent, for seven years, of savage fury full, To feed on grass and hay, like slavering bull.

LXVI "But yet, because the Christian paladine Has sinned against his heavenly Maker less, He only for three months, by will divine, Is doomed to cleanse himself of his excess. Nor yet with other scope did your design Of wending hither the Redeemer bless, But that through us the mode you should explore, Orlando's missing senses to restore.

LXVII " `Tis true to journey further ye will need, And wholly must you leave this nether sphere; To the moon's circle you I have to lead, Of all the planets to our world most near, Because the medicine, that is fit to speed Insane Orlando's cure, is treasured here. This night will we away, when over head Her downward rays the silver moon shall shed."

LXVIII In talk the blest apostle is diffuse On this and that, until the day is worn: But when the sun is sunk i' the salt sea ooze, And overhead the moon uplifts her horn, A chariot is prepared, erewhile in use To scower the heavens, wherein of old was borne From Jewry's misty mountains to the sky, Sainted Elias, rapt from mortal eye.

LXIX Four goodly coursers next, and redder far Than flame, to that fair chariot yokes the sire; Who, when the knight and he well seated are, Collects the reins; and heavenward they aspire. In airy circles swiftly rose the car, And reached the region of eternal fire; Whose heat the saint by miracle suspends, While through the parted air the pair ascends.

LXX The chariot, towering, threads the fiery sphere, And rises thence into the lunar reign. This, in its larger part they find as clear As polished steel, when undefiled by stain; And such it seems, or little less, when near, As what the limits of our earth contain: Such as our earth, the last of globes below, Including seas, which round about it flow.

LXXI Here doubly waxed the paladin's surprize, To see that place so large, when viewed at hand; Resembling that a little hoop in size, When from the globe surveyed whereon we stand, And that he both his eyes behoved to strain, If he would view Earth's circling seas and land; In that, by reason of the lack of light, Their images attained to little height.

LXXII Here other river, lake, and rich champaign Are seen, than those which are below descried; Here other valley, other hill and plain, With towns and cities of their own supplied; Which mansions of such mighty size contain, Such never he before of after spied. Here spacious hold and lonely forest lay, Where nymphs for ever chased the panting prey.

LXXIII He, that with other scope had thither soared, Pauses not all these wonder to peruse: But led by the disciple of our Lord, His way towards a spacious vale pursues; A place wherein is wonderfully stored Whatever on our earth below we lose. Collected there are all things whatsoe'er, Lost through time, chance, or our own folly, here.

LXXIV Nor here alone of realm and wealthy dower, O'er which aye turns the restless wheel, I say: I speak of what it is not in the power Of Fortune to bestow, or take away. Much fame is here, whereon Time and the Hour, Like wasting moth, in this our planet prey. Here countless vows, here prayers unnumbered lie, Made by us sinful men to God on high:

LXXV The lover's tears and sighs; what time in pleasure And play we here unprofitably spend; To this, of ignorant men the eternal leisure, And vain designs, aye frustrate of their end. Empty desires so far exceed all measure, They o'er that valley's better part extend. There wilt thou find, if thou wilt thither post, Whatever thou on earth beneath hast lost.

LXXVI He, passing by those heaps, on either hand, Of this and now of that the meaning sought; Formed of swollen bladders here a hill did stand, Whence he heard cries and tumults, as he thought. These were old crowns of the Assyrian land And Lydian -- as that paladin was taught -- Grecian and Persian, all of ancient fame; And now, alas! well-nigh without a name.

LXXVII Golden and silver hooks to sight succeed, Heaped in a mass, the gifts which courtiers bear, -- Hoping thereby to purchase future meed -- To greedy prince and patron; many a snare, Concealed in garlands, did the warrior heed, Who heard, these signs of adulation were; And in cicalas, which their lungs had burst, Saw fulsome lays by venal poets versed.

LXXVIII Loves of unhappy end in imagery Of gold or jewelled bands he saw exprest; Then eagles' talons, the authority With which great lords their delegates invest: Bellows filled every nook, the fume and fee Wherein the favourites of kings are blest: Given to those Ganymedes that have their hour, And reft, when faded is their vernal flower.

LXXIX O'erturned, here ruined town and castle lies, With all their wealth: "The symbols" (said his guide) "Of treaties and of those conspiracies, Which their conductors seemed so ill to hide." Serpents with female faces, felonies Of coiners and of robbers, he descried; Next broken bottles saw of many sorts, The types of servitude in sorry courts.

LXXX He marks mighty pool of porridge spilled, And asks what in that symbol should be read, And hears 'twas charity, by sick men willed For distribution, after they were dead. He passed a heap of flowers, that erst distilled Sweet savours, and now noisome odours shed; The gift (if it may lawfully be said) Which Constantine to good Sylvester made.

LXXXI A large provision, next, of twigs and lime -- Your witcheries, O women! -- he explored. The things he witnessed, to recount in rhyme Too tedious were; were myriads on record, To sum the remnant ill should I have time. 'Tis here that all infirmities are stored, Save only Madness, seen not here at all, Which dwells below, nor leaves this earthly ball.

LXXXII He turns him back, upon some days and deeds To look again, which he had lost of yore; But, save the interpreter the lesson reads, Would know them not, such different form they wore. He next saw that which man so little needs, -- As it appears -- none pray to Heaven for more; I speak of sense, whereof a lofty mount Alone surpast all else which I recount.

LXXXIII It was as 'twere a liquor soft and thin, Which, save well corked, would from the vase have drained; Laid up, and treasured various flasks within, Larger or lesser, to that use ordained. That largest was which of the paladin, Anglantes' lord, the mighty sense contained; And from those others was discerned, since writ Upon the vessel was ORLANDO'S WIT.

LXXXIV The names of those whose wits therein were pent He thus on all those other flasks espied. Much of his own, but with more wonderment, The sense of many others he descried, Who, he believed, no dram of theirs had spent; But here, by tokens clear was satisfied, That scantily therewith were they purveyed; So large the quantity he here surveyed.

LXXXV Some waste on love, some seeking honour, lose Their wits, some, scowering seas, for merchandise, Some, that on wealthy lords their hope repose, And some, befooled by silly sorceries; These upon pictures, upon jewels those; These on whatever else they highest prize. Astrologers' and sophists' wits mid these, And many a poet's too, Astolpho sees.

LXXXVI Since his consent the apostle signified Who wrote the obscure Apocalypse, his own He took, and only to his nose applied, When (it appeared) it to its place was gone; And henceforth, has Sir Turpin certified, That long time sagely lived king Otho's son; Till other error (as he says) again Deprived the gentle baron of his brain.

LXXXVII The fullest vessel and of amplest round Which held the wit Orlando erst possessed, Astolpho took; nor this so light he found, As it appeared, when piled among the rest. Before, from those bright spheres, now earthward bound, His course is to our lower orb addressed, Him to a spacious palace, by whose side A river ran, conducts his holy guide.

LXXXVIII Filled full of fleeces all its chambers were, Of wool, silk, linen, cotton, in their hue, Of diverse dyes and colours, foul and fair. Yarns to her reel from all those fleeces drew, In the outer porch, a dame of hoary hair. On summer-day thus village wife we view, When the new silk is reeled, its filmy twine Wind from the worm, and soak the slender line.

LXXXIX A second dame replaced the work when done With other; and one bore it off elsewhere; A third selected from the fleeces spun, And mingled by that second, foul from fair. "What is this labour?" said the peer to John; And the disciple answered Otho's heir, "Know that the Parcae are those ancient wives, That in this fashion spin your feeble lives.

XC "As long as one fleece lasts, life in such wise Endureth, nor outlasts it by a thought. For Death and Nature have their watchful eyes On the hour when each should to his end be brought. The choicest threads are culled for Paradise, And, after, for its ornaments are wrought; And fashioned from the strands of foulest show Are galling fetters for the damned below."

XCI On all the fleeces that erewhile were laid Upon the reel, and culled for other care, The names were graved on little plates, which made Of silver, or of gold, or iron, were, These piled in many heaps he next surveyed; Whence an old man some skins was seen to bear, Who, seemingly unwearied, hurried sore, His restless way retracing evermore.

XCII That elder is so nimble and so prest, That he seems born to run; he bears away Out of those heaps by lapfulls in his vest The tickets that the different names display. Wherefore and whither he his steps addrest, To you I shall in other canto say, If you, in sign of pleasure, will attend, With that kind audience ye are wont to lend.