Canto 39…

Canto 39

ARGUMENT Agramant breaks the pact, is overthrown, And forced fair France for Afric to forego. Meanwhile Astolpho in Biserta's town Having with numerous host besieged the foe, By hazard there arrives bold Milo's son, To whom the duke, instructed how to do, Restores his wits. At sea does Dudon meet King Agramant, and sore annoys his fleet.

I Than that fell woe which on Rogero weighs Harder, and bitterer pain forsooth is none, Which upon flesh and more on spirit preys: For of two deaths there is no scaping one. Him, if in strife o'erlaid, Rinaldo slays, Bradamant, if Rinaldo is outdone: For if he killed her brother, well he knew Her hate, than death more hateful, would ensue.

II Rinaldo, unimpeded by such thought, Strove in all ways Rogero to o'erthrow; Fierce and despiteous whirled his axe, and sought Now in the arms, now head, to wound the foe. Rogero circled here and there, and caught Upon his weapon's shaft the coming blow; And, if ever smote, aye strove to smite Where he should injure least Montalban's knight.

III To most of them that led the paynim bands, But too unequal seemed the fierce assay. Too slowly young Rogero plied his hands; Too well Rinaldo kept the Child at bay. With troubled face the king of Afric stands: He sighed, and breathless gazed upon the fray; And all the blame of that ill counsel flung On King Sobrino's head, from whom it sprung.

IV Meanwhile the weird Melissa, she -- the font Of all that wizards or enchanters know -- Had by her art transformed her female front, And taken Argier's mighty shape; in show And gesture she appeared as Rodomont, And seemed, like him, in dragon's hide to go: Such was her belied sword and such her shield; Nor aught was wanting which he wore afield.

V She towards Troyano's mournful son did guide, In form of courser, a familiar sprite, And with a troubled visage loudly cried, "My liege, this is too foul an oversight, A stripling boy in peril yet untried, Against a Gaul, so stout and famed in fight, Your champion in so fierce a strife to make; Where Afric's realm and honour are at stake.

VI "Let not this battle be pursued, my lord, In that 'twould cost our Moorish cause too dear. Let sin of broken faith and forfeit word Fall upon Rodomont! take thou no fear! Let each now show the metal of his sword, Each for a hundred stands when I am here." So upon Agramant this counsel wrought, That king pressed forward without further thought.

VII He, thinking that the monarch of Algiers Is with him, of the pact has little care; And would not rate a thousand cavaliers So high, if handed in his aid they were. Hence steeds reined-in and spurred, hence levelled spears Are seen in one short instant here and there. Melissa, when the hosts are mixed in fight By her false phantoms, vanishes from sight.

VIII The champions two, that, against all accord, Against all faith, disturbed their duel see, No longer strive in fight, but pledge their word -- Yea, put aside all hostile injury -- That they, on neither part, will draw the sword, Until they better certified shall be Who broke the pact, established by that twain, Young Agramant, or aged Charlemagne.

IX They sweat anew, the king who had o'erthrown That truce, and broken faith, as foe to treat. The field of combat is turned upside down; Some hurry to the charge, and some retreat. Who most deserved disgrace, who most renown, Was seen, on both hands, in the selfsame feat; All ran alike: but, 'mid that wild affray, These ran to meet the foe, those ran away.

X As greyhound in the slip, that the fleet hare Scowering about and circling him discerns, Nor with the other dogs a part can bear (For him the hunter holds), with anger burns; Torments himself and mourns in his despair, And whines, and strives against the leash, by turns; Such till that moment had the fury been Of Aymon's daughter and the martial queen.

XI They till that hour upon the spacious plain, Had watched so rich a prize throughout the day; And, as obliged by treaty to refrain From laying hands upon the costly prey, Had sore lamented and had grieved in vain, Gazing with longing eyes on that array. Now seeing truce and treaty broke, among The Moorish squadrons they rejoicing sprung.

XII Marphisa piercing her first victim's breast, (Two yards beyond his back the lance did pass) In briefer time than 'tis by me exprest, Broke with her sword four helms which flew like glass; No less did Bradamant upon the rest; But them her spear reduced to other pass. All touched by that gold lance she overthrew; Doubling Marphisa's score; yet none she slew.

XIII They witness to each others' exploits are, (Those maids to one another are so near) Then, whither fury drives, the martial pair, Dividing, through the Moorish ranks career. Who could each several warrior's name declare, Stretched on the champaign by that golden spear? Or reckon every head Marphisa left Divided by her horrid sword, or cleft?

XIV As when benigner winds more swiftly blow, And Apennine his shaggy back lays bare, Two turbid torrents with like fury flow, Which, in their fall, two separate channels wear, Uproot hard rocks, and mighty trees which grow On their steep banks, and field and harvest bear Into the vale, and seem as if they vied Which should do mightiest damage on its side:

XV So those high-minded virgin warriors two, Scowering the field in separate courses, made Huge havock of the Moors; whom they pursue One with couched lance, and one with lifted blade. Hardly King Agramant his Africk crew From flight, beneath his royal banners stayed: In search of Rodomont, he vainly turned; Nor tidings of the missing warrior learned.

XVI He at his exhortation (so he trowed) Had broke the treaty made in solemn wise, To witness which the gods were called aloud; Who then so quick vanished from his eyes: Nor sees he King Sobrino; disavowed By King Sobrino is the deed, who flies To Arles, and deems that day some vengeance dread Will fall on Agramant's devoted head.

XVII Marsilius too is fled into the town: So has that monarch holy faith at heart. 'Tis hence, that feebly King Troyano's son Resists the crew, that war on Charles's part, Italians, English, Germans; of renown Are all; and, scattered upon every part, Are mixed the paladins, those barons bold, Glittering like jewels on a cloth of gold;

XVIII And, with those peers, is more than one confest As perfect as is earthly cavalier, Guide the savage, that intrepid breast, And those two famous sons of Olivier. I will not now repeat what I exprest Of that fierce, daring female twain whilere; Who on the field so many Moors extend, No number is there to the slain or end.

XIX But, putting this affray some while aside, Without a pinnace will I pass the sea. To them of France so fast I am not tied, But that Astolpho should remembered be: Of the grace given him by his holy guide I told erewhile, and told (it seems to me) Branzardo and the king of Algaziers Against the duke had mustered all their spears.

XX Such as the monarchs could in haste engage, Raked from all Africa, that host contained; Whether of fitting or of feeble age: Scarce from impressing women they refrained, Resolved his thirst of vengeance to assuage, Agramant twice his Africa had drained. Few people in the land were left, and they A feeble and dispirited array.

XXI So proved they; for the foe was scarce in view, Before that levy broke in panic dread: Like sheep, their quailing bands Astolpho slew, Charging at his more martial squadrons' head; And with the slain filled all that champaign; few Into Biserta from the carnage fled. A prisoner valiant Bucifar remained; The town in safety King Branzardo gained;

XXII More grieved as Bucifaro's loss alone, Than had he lost the rest in arms arrayed. Wide and in want of ramparts is the town; And these could ill be raised without his aid. While fain to ransom him, he thinks upon The means, and stands afflicted and dismayed, He recollects him how the paladin, Dudon, has many a month his prisoner been.

XXIII Him under Monaco, upon the shore, In his first passage, Sarza's monarch took. Thenceforth had been a prisoner evermore Dudon, who was derived of Danish stock. The paladin against the royal Moor Branzardo thought, in this distress, to truck; And knowing through sure spy, Astolpho led The Nubians, to that chief the offer sped.

XXIV A paladin himself, Astolpho knows He gladly ought a paladin to free; And when that case the Moorish envoy shows, To King Branzardo's offer does agree. Dudon from prison loosed, his thanks bestows; And whatsoe'er pertains to land or sea, Bestirs him to accomplish, in accord With his illustrious chief, the English lord.

XXV Astolpho leading such a countless band As might have well seven Africas opprest, And recollecting 'twas the saint's command, Who upon him whilere imposed the quest, That fair Provence and Aquamorta's strand He from the reaving Saracen should wrest, Made through his numerous host a second draught Of such as least inapt for sea he thought;

XXVI And filling next as full as they could be His hands with many different sorts of leaves, Plucked from palm, olive, bay and cedar tree, Approached the shore, and cast them on the waves. Oh blessed souls! Oh great felicity! O grace! which rarely man from God receives; O strange and wondrous miracle, which sprung Out of those leaves upon the waters flung!

XXVII They wax in number beyond all esteem; Becoming crooked and heavy, long, and wide. Into hard timber turn and solid beam, The slender veins that branch on either side: Taper the masts; and, moored in the salt stream, All in a thought transformed to vessels, ride; And of as diverse qualities appear, As are the plants, whereon they grew whilere.

XXVIII It was a miracle to see them grown To galliot, galley, frigate ship, and boat; Wondrous, that they with tackling of their own, Are found as well as any barks afloat. Nor lack there men to govern them, when blown By blustering winds -- from islands not remote -- Sardinia or Corsica, of every rate, Pilot and patron, mariner and mate.

XXIX Twenty-six thousand were the troop that manned Those ready barks of every sort and kind. To Dudon's government, by sea or land A leader sage, the navy was consigned; Which yet lay anchored off the Moorish strand, Expecting a more favourable wind, To put to sea; when, freighted with a load Of prisoners, lo! a vessel made the road.

XXX She carried those, whom at the bridge of dread, -- On that so narrow place of battle met -- Rodomont took, as often has been said. The valiant Olivier was of the set, Orlando's kin, and, with them, prisoners led, Were faithful Brandimart and Sansonet, With more; to tell whereof there is no need; Of German, Gascon, or Italian seed.

XXXI The patron, yet unweeting he should find Foes in the port, here entered to unload; Having left Argier many miles behind, Where he was minded to have made abode; Because a boisterous, overblowing, wind Had driven his bark beyond her destined road; Deeming himself as safe and welcome guest, As Progne, when she seeks her noisy nest.

XXXII But when, arrived, the imperial eagle spread, And pards and golden lilies he descries, With countenance as sicklied o'er by dread, He stands, as one that in unwary guise, Has chanced on fell and poisonous snake to tread, Which, in the grass, opprest with slumber lies; And, pale and startled, hastens to retire From that ill reptile, swoln with bane and ire.

XXXIII But no retreat from peril is there here, Nor can the patron keep his prisoners down: Him thither Brandimart and Olivier, Sansonet and those others drag, where known And greeted are the friends with joyful cheer, By England's duke and Danish Ogier's son; Who read that he who brought them to that shore Should for his pains be sentenced to the oar.

XXXIV King Otho's son kind welcome did afford Unto those Christian cavaliers, as said: Who -- honoured at his hospitable board -- With arms and all things needful were purveyed. His going, for their sake, the Danish lord Deferred, who deemed his voyage well delayed, To parley with those peers, though at the cost Of one or two good days, in harbour lost.

XXXV Of Charles, and in what state, what order are The affairs of France they gave advices true; Told where he best could disembark, and where To most advantage of the Christian crew. While so the cavaliers their news declare, A noise is heard; which ever louder grew, Followed by such a fierce alarm withal, As to more fears than one gave rise in all.

XXXVI The duke Astolpho and the goodly throng, That in discourse with him were occupied, Armed in a moment, on their coursers sprung, And hurried where the Nubians loudest cried; And seeking wherefore that wide larum rung, Now here, now there -- those warlike lords espied A savage man, and one so strong of hand, Naked and sole he troubled all that band.

XXXVII The naked savage whirled a sapling round, So hard, so heavy, and so strong of grain, That every time the weapon went to ground, Some warrior, more than maimed, opprest the plain. Above a hundred dead are strewed around; Nor more defence the routed hands maintain; Save that a war of distant parts they try; For there is none will wait the champion nigh.

XXXVIII Astolpho, Brandimart, the Danish knight, Hastening towards that noise with Olivier, Remain astounded at the wondrous might And courage, which in that wild man appear. When, posting thither on a palfry light, Is seen a damsel, clad in sable gear. To Brandimart in haste that lady goes, And both her arms about the warrior throws.

XXXIX This was fair Flordelice, whose bosom so Burned with the love of Monodantes' son, She, when she left him prisoner to his foe At that streight bridge, had nigh distracted gone. From France had she past hither -- given to know -- By that proud paynim, who the deed had done, How Brandimart, with many cavaliers, Was prisoner in the city of Algiers.

XL When now she for that harbour would have weighed, An eastern vessel in Marseilles she found, Which thither had an ancient knight conveyed: Of Monodantes' household; a long round To seek his Brandimart that lord had made, By sea, and upon many a distant ground. For he, upon his way, had heard it told, How he in France should find the warrior bold.

XLI She knowing old Bardino in that wight, Bardino who from Monodantes' court With little Brandimart had taken flight, And reared his nursling in THE SYLVAN FORT; Then hearing what had thither brought the knight, With her had made him loosen from the port; Relating to that elder, by what chance Brandimart had to Africk passed from France.

XLII As soon as landed, that Biserta lies Besieged by good Astolpho's band, they hear; That Brandimart is with him in the emprize, They learn, but learn not as a matter clear. Now in such haste to him the damsel flies, When she beholds her faithful cavalier, As plainly shows her joy; which woes o'erblown Had made the mightiest she had ever known.

XLIII The gentle baron no less gladly eyed His faithful and beloved consort's face; Her whom he prized above all things beside; And clipt and welcomed her with loving grace; Nor his warm wishes would have satisfied A first, a second, or a third embrace, But that he spied Bardino, he that came From France, together with that faithful dame.

XLIV He stretched his arms, and would embrace the knight; And -- wherefore he was come -- would bid him say: But was prevented by the sudden flight Of the sacred host, which fled in disarray, Before the club of that mad, naked wight, Who with the brandished sapling cleared his way. Flordelice viewed the furious man in front; And cried to Brandimart, "Behold the count!"

XLV At the same time, withal, Astolpho bold That this was good Orlando plainly knew, By signs, whereof those ancient saints had told, In the earthly paradise, as tokens true. None of those others, who the knight behold, The courteous baron in the madman view; That from long self-neglect, while wild he ran, Had in his visage more of beast than man.

XLVI With breast and heart transfixed with pity, cried Valiant Astolpho -- bathed with many a tear -- Turning to Danish Dudon, at this side, And afterwards to valiant Olivier; "Behold Orlando!" Him awhile they eyed, Straining their eyes and lids; then knew the peer; And, seeing him in such a piteous plight, Were filled with grief and wonder at the sight.

XLVII So grieve and so lament the greater part Of those good warriors, that their eyes o'erflow. " `Tis time" (Astolpho cried) "to find some art To heal him, not indulge in useless woe"; And from his courser sprang: bold Brandimart, Olivier, Sansonet and Dudon so All leap to ground, and all together make At Roland, whom the warriors fain would take.

XLVIII Seeing the circle round about him grow, Levels his club that furious paladin, And makes fierce Dudon feel (who -- couched below His buckler -- on the madman would break in) How grievous is that staff's descending blow; And but that Olivier, Orlando's kin, Broke in some sort its force, that stake accurst Had shield and helmet, head and body burst.

XLIX It only burst the shield, and in such thunder Broke on the casque, that Dudon prest the shore: With that, Sir Sansonet cut clean asunder The sapling, shorn of two cloth-yards and more, So vigorous was that warrior's stroke, while under His bosom, Brandimart girt Roland sore With sinewy arms about his body flung; And to the champion's legs Astolpho clung.

L Orlando shook himself, and England's knight, Ten paces off, reversed upon the ground; Yet loosed not Brandimart, who with more might And better hold had clasped the madman round. To Olivier, too forward in that fight, He dealt so furious and so fell a wound, With his clenched fist, that pale the marquis fell; And purple streams from eyes and nostrils well;

LI And save his morion had been more than good, Bold Olivier had breathed his last, who lies, So battered with his fall, it seemed he wou'd Bequeath his parting soul to paradise. Astolpho and Dudon, that again upstood (Albeit swoln were Dudon's face and eyes) And Sansonet, who plied so well his sword, All made together at Anglantes' lord.

LII Dudon Orlando from behind embraced, And with his foot the furious peer would throw: Astolpho and others seize his arms; but waste Their strength in all attempts to hold the foe. He who has seen a bull, by mastiffs chased That gore his bleeding ears, in fury lowe, Dragging the dogs that bait him there and here, Yet from their tusks unable to get clear;

LIII Let him imagine, so Orlando drew Astolpho and those banded knights along. Meanwhile upstarted Oliviero, who By that fell fistycuff on earth was flung; And, seeing they could ill by Roland do That sought by good Astolpho and his throng, He meditates, and compasses, a way The frantic paladin on earth to lay.

LIV He many a hawser made them thither bring, And running knots in them he quickly tied; Which on the count's waist, arms, and legs, they fling; And then, among themselves, the ends divide, Conveyed to this or that amid the ring, Compassing Roland upon every side. The warriors thus Orlando flung parforce, As farrier throws the struggling ox or horse.

LV As soon as down, they all upon him are, And hands and feet more tightly they constrain: He shakes himself, and plunges here and there; But all his efforts for relief are vain. Astolpho bade them hence the prisoner bear; For he would heal (he said) the warrior's brain. Shouldered by sturdy Dudon is the load, And on the beach's furthest brink bestowed.

LVI Seven times Astolpho makes them wash the knight; And seven times plunged beneath the brine he goes. So that they cleanse away the scurf and blight, Which to his stupid limbs and visage grows. This done, with herbs, for that occasion dight, They stop his mouth, wherewith he puffs and blows. For, save his nostrils, would Astolpho leave No passage whence the count might air receive.

LVII Valiant Astolpho had prepared the vase, Wherein Orlando's senses were contained, And to his nostrils in such mode conveys, That, drawing-in his breath, the county drained The mystic cup withal. Oh wondrous case! The unsettled mind its ancient seat regained; And, in its glorious reasonings, yet more clear And lucid waxed his wisdom than whilere.

LVIII As one, that seems in troubled sleep to see Abominable shapes, a horrid crew; Monsters which are not, and which cannot be; Or seems some strange, unlawful thing to do, Yet marvels at himself, from slumber free. When his recovered senses play him true; So good Orlando, when he is made sound, Remains yet full of wonder, and astound.

LIX Aldabelle's brother, Monodantes' son, And him that on his brain such cure had wrought, He wondering marked, but word he spake to none; And when and how he was brought thither, thought. He turned his restless eyes now up now down, Nor where he was withal, imagined aught, Marvelling why he there was naked cast, And wherefore tethered, neck and heels, so fast.

LX Then said, as erst Silenus said -- when seen, And taken sleeping the cave of yore -- SOLVITE ME, with visage so serene, With look so much less wayward than before, That him they from his bonds delivered clean, And raiment to the naked warrior bore; All comforting their friend, with grief opprest For that delusion which had him possest.

LXI When to his former self he was recovered, Of wiser and of manlier mind than e'er, From love as well was freed the enamoured lord; And she, so gentle deemed, so fair whilere, And by renowned Orlando so adored, Did but to him a worthless thing appear. What he through love had lost, to reacquire Was his whole study, was his whole desire.

LXII Meanwhile Bardino told to Brandimart, How Monodantes, his good sire, was dead, And, on his brother, Gigliantes' part, To call him to his kingdom had he sped, As well as from those isles, which most apart From other lands, in eastern seas are spread, That prince's fair inheritance; than which Was none more pleasant, populous, or rich.

LXIII He said, mid many reasons which he prest, That home was sweet, and -- were the warrior fain To taste that sweet -- he ever would detest A wandering life; and Brandimart again Replies, through all that war, he will not rest From serving Roland and King Charlemagne; And after, if he lives to see its end, To his own matters better will attend.

LXIV Upon the following day, for Provence steer The shipping under Danish Dudon's care; When with the duke retired Anglantes' peer, And heard that lord the warfare's state declare: Then prest with siege Biserta, far and near, But let good England's knight the honour wear Of every vantage; while Astolpho still In all was guided by Orlando's will.

LXV The order taken to attack the town Of huge Biserta, when, and on what side; How, at the first assault, the walls are won, And with Orlando who the palm divide, Lament not that I now shall leave unshown, Since for short time I lay my tale aside. In the meanwhile, how fierce an overthrow The Moors received in France, be pleased to know.

LXVI Well nigh abandoned was their royal lord In his worst peril; for to Arles again Had gone, with many of the paynim horde, The sage Sobrino and the king of Spain; Who, for the deemed the land unsafe, aboard Their barks sought refuge, with a numerous train, Barons and cavaliers, that served the Moor; Who moved by their example put from shore.

LXVII Yet royal Agramant the fight maintains; But when he can no longer make a stand, Turns from the combat, and directly strains For Arles, not far remote, upon the strand. Him Rabican pursues, with flowing reins, Whom Aymon's daughter drives with heel and hand. Him would she slay, through whom so often crost, That martial maid had her Rogero lost.

LXVIII Marphisa by the same desire was stirred, Who had her thoughts on tardy vengeance placed, For her dead sire; and as she fiercely spurred, Made her hot courser feel his rider's haste. But neither martial maid, amid that herd Of flying Moors, so well the monarch chased, As to o'ertake him in his swift retreat, First into Arles, and then aboard his fleet.

LXIX As two fair generous pards, that from some crag Together dart, and stretch across the plain; When they perceive that vigorous goat or stag, Their nimble quarry, is pursued in vain, As if ashamed they in that chase did lag, Return repentant and in high disdain: So, with a sigh, return those damsels two, When they the paynim king in safety view:

LXX Yet therefore halt not, but in fury go Amid that crowd, which flies, possest with dread; Feeling, now here, now there, at every blow, Many that never more uprear their head. To evil pass was brought the broken foe; For safety was not even for them that fled: Since Agramant, a sure retreat to gain, Bade shut the city-gate which faced the plain;

LXXI And bade on Rhone break all the bridges down. Unhappy people, ever held as cheap -- Weighed with the tyrant's want who wears a crown -- As worthless herd of goats or silly sheep! These in the sea, those in the river drown; And those with blood the thirsty fallows steep. The Franks few prisoners made, and many slew; For ransom in that battle was for few.

LXXII Of the great multitude of either train, Christened or paynim, killed in that last fight, Though in unequal parts (for, of the slain, By far more Saracens were killed in flight, By hands of those redoubted damsels twain), Signs even to this day remain in sight: For, hard by Arles, where sleeps the lazy Rhone, The plain with rising sepulchres is strown.

LXXIII Meanwhile his heavy ships of deepest draught King Agramant had made put forth to sea, Leaving some barks in port -- his lightest craft -- For them that would aboard his navy flee: He stays two days, while they the stragglers waft, And, for the winds are wild and contrary, On the third day, to sail he give command, In trust to make return to Africk's land.

LXXIV Royal Marsilius, in that fatal hour, Fearing the costs will fall upon his Spain, And that the clouds, which big with tempest lower, In the end will burst upon his fields and grain, Makes for Valentia; where he town and tower Begins to fortify with mickle pain; And for that war prepares, which after ends In the destruction of himself and friends.

LXXV King Agramant his sails for Africk bent: His barks ill-armed and almost empty go; Empty of men, but full of discontent, In that three-fourths had perished by the foe. As cruel some, as weak and proud some shent Their king, and (as still happens in like woe) All hate him privily; but, for they fear His fury, in his presence mute appear.

LXXVI Yet sometimes two or three their lips unclose, -- Some knot of friends, where each on each relies -- And their pent choler and their rage expose: Yet Agramant beneath the illusion lies, That each will love and pity overflows; And this befalls, because he still espies False faces, hears but voices that applaud, And nought but adulation, lies and fraud.

LXXVII Not in Biserta's port his host to land Was the sage king of Africa's intent, Who had sure news that shore by Nubia's band Was held, but he so far above it meant To steer his Moorish squadron, that the strand Should not be steep or rugged for descent: There would he disembark, and thence would aid Forthwith his people, broken and dismaid.

LXXVIII But favoured not by his foul destiny Was that intention, provident and wise; Which willed the fleet, from leaves of greenwood tree, Produced upon the beach in wondrous guise, That, bound for France, now ploughed the foaming sea, Should meet the king at night; that from surprise In that dark, dismal hour, amid his crew Worse panic and disorder might ensue.

LXXIX Not yet to him have tidings been conveyed, That squadrons of such force the billows plow: Nor would he have believed in him who said, A hundred barks had sprung from one small bough; And hence for Africa the king had weighed, Not fearing to encounter hostile prow; Nor has he watchmen in his tops to spy, And make report of what they hence descry.

LXXX `Twas so those ships, by England's peer supplied To Dudon, manned with good and armed crew, Which see that Moorish fleet at eventide, And that strange armament forthwith pursue, Assailed them unawares, and, far, and wide, Among those barks their grappling-irons threw, And linked by chains, to their opponents clung, When known for Moors and foemen by their tongue.

LXXXI In bearing down, impelled by winds that blow Propitious to the Danish chief's intent, Those weighty ships so shocked the paynim foe, That many vessels to the bottom went; Then, taxing wits and hands, to work them woe, Them with fire, sword, and stones the Christians shent; Which on their ships in such wide ruin pour, Like tempest never vext the sea before.

LXXXII Bold Dudon's men, to whom unwonted might And daring was imparted from on high, (Since the hour was come the paynims to requite For more than one ill deed,) from far and nigh, The Moors so pestilently gall and smite, Agramant finds no shelter; from the sky Above, thick clouds of whistling arrows strike; Around gleam hook and hatchet, sword and pike.

LXXXIII The king hears huge and heavy stones descend, From charged machine or thundering engine sent, Which, falling, poop and prow and broadside rend, Opening to ravening seas a mighty vent; And more than all the furious fires offend, Fires that are quickly kindled, slowly spent, The wretched crews would fain that danger shun, And ever into direr peril run.

LXXXIV One headlong plunged, pursued by fire and sword, And perished mid the waters, one who wrought Faster with arms and feet, his passage oared To other barque, already overfraught: But she repulsed the wretch that fain would board; Whose hand, which too importunately sought To clamber, grasped the side, while his lopt arm And body stained the wave with life-blood warm.

LXXXV Him, that to save his life i' the waters thought, Or, at the worst, to perish with less pain, (Since swimming profited the caitiff nought, And he perceived his strength and courage drain) To the hungry fires from which the refuge sought, The fear of drowning hurries back again: He grasps a burning plank, and in the dread Of dying either death, by both is sped.

LXXXVI This vainly to the sea resorts, whom spear Or hatchet, brandished close at hand, dismay; For stone or arrow following in his rear, Permit the craven to make little way. But haply, while it yet delights your ear, 'Twere well and wisely done to end my lay, Rather than harp upon the theme so long As to annoy you with a tedious song.

Canto 40

ARGUMENT To fly the royal Agramant is fain, And sees Biserta burning far away; But landing finds the royal Sericane, Who of his faith gives goodly warrant; they Defy Orlando, backed by champions twain; Whom bold Gradasso firmly trusts to slay. For seven kings' sake, fast prisoners to their foes, Rogero and the Dane exchange rude blows.

I The diverse chances of that sea-fight dread, Here to rehearse would take a weary while; And to discourse to you upon this head, Great son of Hercules, were to Samos' isle To carry earthen vessels, as 'tis said, To Athens owls, and crocodiles the Nile. In that, my lord, by what is vouched to me, Such things you saw, such things made others see.

II Your faithful people gazed on a long show, That night and day, wherein they crowded stood, As in a theatre, and hemmed on Po Twixt fire and sword, the hostile navies viewed. What outcries may be heard, what sounds of woe, How rivers may run red with human blood, In suchlike combat, in how many a mode Men die, you saw, and you to many showed.

III I saw not, I, who was compelled to course, Evermore changing nags, six days before, To Rome, in heat and haste, some helpful force Of him our mighty pastor to implore. But, after, need was none of foot or horse, For so the lion's beak and claws you tore, From that day unto this I hear not said That he more trouble in your land has bread.

IV But Trotto, present at this victory, Afranio, Moro, Albert, Hannibal, Zerbinat, Bagno, the Ariostos three, Assured me of the mighty feat withal, Certified after by that ensignry, Suspended from the holy temple's wall, And fifteen galleys at our river-side, Which with a thousand captive barks I spied.

V He that those wrecks and blazing fires discerned, And such sore slaughter, under different shows, Which -- venging us for hall and palace burned -- While bark remained, raged wide among the foes, Might also deem how Africk's people mourned, With Agramant, mid diverse deaths and woes, On that dark night, when the redouted Dane Assaulted in mid sea the Moorish train.

VI 'Twas night, nor gleam was anywhere descried, When first the fleets in furious strife were blended; But when lit sulphur, pitch and tar from side And poop and prow into the sky ascended, And the destructive wild-fire, scattered wide, Fed upon ship and shallop ill defended, The things about them all descried so clear That night was changed to day, as 'twould appear.

VII Hence Agramant, that by the dark deceived, Had rated not so high the foes' array, Nor to encounter such a force believed, But would, if 'twere opposed, at last give way, When that wide darkness cleared, and he perceived (What least he weened upon the first affray) That twice as many were the ships he fought, As his own Moorish barks, took other thought.

VIII Into a boat he with some few descends, Brigliador and some precious things, to flee; And so, twixt ship and ship, in silence wends, Until he finds himself in safer sea, Far from his own; whom fiery Dudon shends, Reduced to sad and sore extremity; Them steel destroys, fires burn, and waters drown; While he, that mighty slaughter's cause, is flown.

IX Agramant flies, and with him old Sobrine, Agramant grieving he had not believed, What time that sage foresaw with eye divine, And told the woe wherewith he is aggrieved. But turn me to the valiant paladine, Who, before other aid can be received, Counsels the duke Biserta to destroy; That it no more may Christian France annoy.

X And hence in public order was it said, The camp should to its arms the third day stand; For this, it was with many barks bested; For all were placed not at the Dane's command. That fleet the worthy Sansonetto led, (As good a warrior he by sea as land) Which a mile off the port, and overight Biserta, now was anchored by the knight.

XI Orlando and the duke, like Christians true, Which dare no danger without God for guide, That fast and prayer be made their army through, Ordain by proclamation to be cried; And that upon the third day, when they view The signal, all shall bown them, far and wide, Biserta's royal city to attack, Which they, when taken, doom to fire and sack.

XII And so, when now devoutly have been done Vigil and vow, and holy prayer and fast, Kin, friends, and those to one another known, Together feast; who, when with glad repast Their wasted bodies were refreshed, begun To embrace and weep; and acts and speeches past, Upon the banquet's close, amid those crews Such as best friends, about to sever, use.

XIII The holy priests within Biserta's wall, Pray with their grieving people, and in tears, Aye beat their bosoms, and for succour call Upon their Mahomet, who nothing hears. What vigils, offerings, and what gifts withal Were promised silently, amid their fears! What temples, statues, images were vowed, In memory of their bitter woes, aloud!

XIV And, when the cadi hath his blessing said, The people arms and to the rampart hies. As yet reposing in her Tithon's bed Aurora was, and dusky were the skies; When to their posts, their several troops to head, Here Sansonetto, there Astolpho flies. And when they hear Orlando's signal blown Assault with furious force Biserta's town.

XV Washed by the sea, upon two quarters, were The city walls, two stood on the dry shore, Of a construction excellent and rare, Wherein was seen the work of days of yore: Of other bulwarks was the town nigh bare; For since Branzardo there the sceptre bore; Few masons at command, and little space That monarch had to fortify the place.

XVI The Nubian king is charged by England's peer, With sling and arrow so the Moors to gall, That none upon the works shall dare appear; And that, protected by the ceaseless fall Of stone and dart, in safety cavalier And footman may approach the very wall; Who loaded, some with plank, with rock-stone some, And some with beam, or weightier burden, come.

XVII This and that other thing the Nubians bore, And by degrees filled-up that channel wide, Whose waters were cut off the day before, So that in many parts the ooze was spied. Filled is the ditch in haste from shore to shore, And forms a level to the further side. Cheering the footmen on the works to mount, Stand Olivier, Astolpho, and the Count.

XVIII The Nubian upon hope of gain intent, Impatient of delay, nor heeding how With pressing perils they were compassed, went Protected by the sheltering boar and sow. With battering ram, and other instrument, To break the gate and make the turret bow, Speedily to the city wall they post, Nor unprovided find the paynim host.

XIX For steel, and fire, and roof, and turret there, In guise of tempest on the Nubians fell, Which plank and beam from those dread engines tear, Made for annoyance of the infidel. In the ill beginning, and while dim the air, Much injury the christened host befell; But when the sun from his rich mansion breaks, Fortune the faction of the Moor forsakes.

XX The assault is reinforced on every side, By Count Orlando, both by sea and land: The fleet, with Sansonetto for its guide, Entered the harbour, and approached the strand; And sorely they with various engines plied, With arrows and with slings, the paynim band; And sent the assailants scaling-ladder, spear, And naval stores, and every needful gear.

XXI Orlando, Oliviero, Brandimart, And he, in air so daring heretofore, Do fierce and furious battle on that part, Which lies the furthest inland from the shore: Each leads a portion of those Aethiops swart, Ordered in equal bands beneath the four, Who at the walls, the gateways, or elsewhere, All give of prowess shining proofs and rare.

XXII So better could be seen each warrior's claim, That in confused in combat there and here. Who of reward is worthy, who of shame, To a thousand and to watchful eyes is clear. Dragged upon wheels are towers of wooden frame, And others well-trained elephants uprear, Which so o'ertop the turrets of the foe, Those bulwarks stand a mighty space below.

XXIII Brandimart to the walls a ladder brought, Climbed, and to climb withal to others cried: Many succeed, with bold assurance fraught, For none can fear beneath so good a guide: Nor was there one who marked, nor one who thought Of marking, if such weight it would abide. Brandimart only, on the foes intent, Clambered and fought, and grasped a battlement.

XXIV Here clang with hand and foot the daring knight, Sprang on the embattled wall, and whirled his sword; And, showing mickle tokens of his might, The paynims charged, o'erthrew, hewed down and gored: But all at once, o'erburthened with that weight, The ladder breaks beneath the assailing horde; And, saving Brandimart, the Christians all Into the ditch with headlong ruin fall.

XXV Not therefore blenched the valiant cavalier, Nor thought he of retreat, albeit was none Of his own band that followed in his rear; Although he was a mark for all the town. Of many prayed, the warrior would not hear The prayer to turn; but mid the foes leapt down; I say, into the city took a leap, Where the town-wall was thirty cubits deep.

XXVI He, without any harm on the hard ground, As if on feathers or on straw, did light; And, like cloth shred and shorn, the paynims round In fury shreds and shears the valiant knight. Now springs on these, now those, with vigorous bound; And these and those betake themselves to flight. They that without have seen the leap he made, Too late to save him deem all human aid.

XXVII Throughout the squadrons a deep rumour flew, A murmur and a whisper, there and here, From mouth to mouth, the Fame by motion grew, And told and magnified the tale of fear: For upon many quarters stormed that crew, Where good Orlando was, where Olivier, Where Otho's son, she flew on pinions light, Nor ever paused upon her nimble flight.

XXVIII Those warriors, and Orlando most of all, Who love and prize the gentle Brandimart, Hearing, should they defy upon that call, They would from so renowned a comrade part, Their scaling-ladders plant, and mount the wall With rivalry, which shows the kingly heart; Who carry all such terror in their look, That, at the very sight, their foemen shook.

XXIX As on loud ocean, lashed by boisterous gale The billows the rash bark assault, and still -- Now threatening poop, now threatening prow -- assail, And, in their rage and fury, fain would fill; The pilot sighs and groans, dismaid and pale, -- He that should aid, and has not heart or skill -- At length a surge the pinnace sweeps and swallows, And wave on wave in long succession follows;

XXX Thus when those win the wall, they leave a space So wide, that who beneath their conduct go, Safely may follow them; for at its base, A thousand ladders have been reared below. Meanwhile the battering rams, in many a place, Have breached that wall, and with such mighty blow, The bold assailant can, from many a part, Bear succour to the gallant Brandimart.

XXXI Even with that rage wherewith the stream that reigns, The king of rivers -- when he breaks his mound, And makes himself a way through Mantuan plains -- The greasy furrows and glad harvests, round, And, with the sheepcotes, flock, and dogs and swains Bears off, in his o'erwhelming waters drowned; Over the elm's high top the fishes glide, Where fowls erewhile their nimble pinions plied;

XXXII Even with that rage rushed in the impetuous band, Where many breaches in the wall were wrought, To slay with burning torch and trenchant brand, That people, which to evil pass were brought. Murder and rapine there, and violent hand Dipt deep in blood and plunder, in a thought, Destroy that sumptuous and triumphant town, Which of all Africk wore the royal crown.

XXXIII Filled with dead bodies of the paynim horde, Blood issued from so many a gaping wound, A fouler fosse was formed and worse to ford Than girdles the infernal city round. From house to house the fire in fury poured; Mosque, portico, and palace, went to ground; And spoiled and empty mansions with the clang, Of beaten breast, and groan and outcry rang.

XXXIV The victors, laden with their mighty prey, From that unhappy city's gates are gone, One with fair vase, and one with rich array, Or silver plate from ancient altar won. The mother this, that bore the child away; Rapes and a thousand evil things were done. Of much, and what they cannot hinder, hear Renowned Orlando and fair England's peer.

XXXV By Olivier, amid that slaughter wide, Fell Bucifaro of the paynim band; And -- every hope and comfort cast aside -- Branzardo slew himself with his own brand; Pierced with three wounds whereof he shortly died, Folvo was taken by Astolpho's hand; The monarchs three, intrusted to whose care Agramant's African dominions were.

XXXVI Agramant, who had left without a guide His fleet this while, and with Sobrino fled, Wept over his Biserta when he spied Those fires that on the royal city fed. When nearer now the king was certified, How in that cruel strife his town had sped, He thought of dying, and himself had slain, But that Sobrino's words his arm restrain.

XXXVII "What victory, my lord," (Sobrino cries) "Could better than thy death the Christian cheer, Whence he might hope to joy in quiet wise Fair Africa, from all annoyance clear? Thy being yet alive this hope denies; Hence shall he evermore have cause for fear. For well the foeman knows, save thou art gone, He for short time will fill thine Africk throne.

XXXVIII "Thy subjects by thy death deprived will be Of hope, the only good they have in store, Thou, if thou liv'st, I trust, shalt set us free, Redeem from trouble, and to joy restore. Captives for ever, if thou diest, are we; Africk is tributary evermore. Although not for thyself, yet not to give My liege, annoyance to thy followers, live.

XXXIX "The soldan, he thy neighbour, will be won, Surely with men and money thee to aid: By him with evil eye King Pepin's son, So strong in Africa, will be surveyed. All efforts to restore thee to thy throne By Norandine, thy kinsman, will be made. Turk, Persian and Armenian, Arab, Mede, If prayed, will all assist thee in thy need."

XL In such and such like words, with wary art, With hope of quickly winning back his reign, Sobrino soothed the king, while in his heart He other thought perchance did entertain. Well knows he to what pass, what evil mart That lord is brought; how often sighs in vain, Whoe'er foregoes the sceptre which he swayed, And to barbarians hath recourse for aid.

XLI Jugurtha, martial Hannibal, and more In ancient times, good proof of this afford: In our own era, Lewis, hight the Moor, Delivered into other Lewis' ward. Your brother, Duke Alphonso, wiser lore Learned from their fate; -- I speak to you, my lord -- Wont them as very madmen to decry, That more on others than themselves rely;

XLII And therefore aye, throughout that warfare drear Waged by the pontiff, in his fierce disdain, Albeit upon his feeble powers the peer Could ill depend, though from Italian plain Was driven the friend that aided him whilere, And by the foe possessed was Naples' reign, He against menace, against promise steeled, Ne'er to another would his dukedom yield.

XLIII Eastward King Agramant had turned his prow; And seaward steered his bark, of Africk wide; When from the land a wicked wind 'gan blow, And took the reeling vessel on one side: The master, seated at the helm, his brow Raised towards heaven, and to the monarch cried: "I see so fell and fierce a tempest form, Our pinnace cannot face the pelting storm.

XLIV "If you, my lords, will listen to my lore, An isle is on our left-hand; and to me It seems that it were well to make that shore Till overblown the tempest's fury be." To his advice assents the royal Moor, And makes the larboard land, from peril free; Which, for the sailor's weal, when tempests rise, 'Twixt Vulcan's lofty forge and Africk lies.

XLV With juniper and myrtle overgrown, Of habitations is that islet bare; A pleasing solitude; and where alone Harbour wild stag and roebuck, deer and hare; And, save to fishermen, is little known, That oftentimes on the shorn brambles there Hang their moist nets; meanwhile, untroubled sleep The scaly fishes in their quiet deep.

XLVI Here other vessel, sheltered from the main, They found, by tempest tost upon that land, Which had conveyed the king of Sericane Erewhile from Arles; on one and the other hand, In reverent wise and worthy of the twain, Those valiant kings embraced upon the strand: For friends the monarchs were, and late before The walls of Paris, arms together bore.

XLVII With much displeasure Sericana's knight Heard by King Agramant his griefs displaid; Then him consoled, and in his cause to fight, Like courteous king, the kindly offer made: But brooked nat, that to Egypt's people, light And lacking faith, he should resort for aid. "That thither it is perilous to wend, Exiles (he said) are warned by Pompey's end.

XLVIII "And for Senapus' Aethiopian crew Have come beneath Astolpho, as ye show, To wrest your fruitful Africa from you, And burnt and laid her chiefest city low. And with their squadrons is Orlando, who Was wandering void of wit, short while ago, The fittest cure for all, whereby to scape Out of this trouble I, meseems, can shape.

XLIX "I, for your love, will undertake the quest, The Count in single combat to appear; He vainly would, I wot, with me contest, If wholly made of copper or of steel. I rate the Christian church, were he at rest, As wolf rates lambs, when hungering for his meal. Next have I thought how of the Nubian band -- A brief and easy task -- to free your land.

L "I will make other Nubians, they that hold Another faith, divided by Nile's course, And Arabs and Macrobians (rich in gold And men are these, and those in herds of horse), Chaldaean, Perse, and many more, controlled By my good sceptre, in such mighty force, Will make them war upon the Nubians' reign, Those reavers shall not in your land remain."

LI Gradasso's second offer seemed to be Most opportune to King Troyano's son; And much he blest the chances of the sea, Which him upon that desert isle had thrown: Yet would not upon any pact agree, -- Nay, not to repossess Biserta's town -- Gradasso should for him in fight contend; Deeming too sore his honour 'twoud offend.

LII "If Roland is to be defied, more due The battle is to me (that king replies) I am prepared for it; and let God do His will by me, in good or evil wise." " -- Follow my mode; another mode and new, Which comes into my mind" (Gradasso cries), "Let both of us together wage this fight Against Orlando and another knight."

LIII "So not left out, I care not, if I be The first or last (said Agramant): I know In arms no better can I find than thee, Though I should seek a comrade, high or low, And what (Sobrino cried) becomes of me? I should be more expert if old in show; And evermore in peril it is good, Force should have Counsel in his neighbourhood."

LIV Stricken in years, yet vigorous was the sage, And well had proved himself with sword and spear; And said, he found himself in gray old age, Such as in green and supple youth whilere. They own his claim, and for an embassage Forthwith a courier find, then bid him steer For Africa, where camped the Christians lie, And Count Orlando on their part defy;

LV With equal number of armed knights to be, Matching his foes, on Lampedosa's shore; Where on all quarters that circumfluent sea, By which they are inisled, is heard to roar. The paynim messenger unceasingly, Like one in needful haste, used sail and oar, Till he found Roland in Biserta, where The host beneath his eye their plunder share.

LVI From those three monarchs to the cavalier The invitation was in public told; So pleasing to Anglante's valiant peer, To the herald he was liberal of his gold: From his companions had he heard whilere That Durindane was in Gradasso's hold: Hence, to retrieve that faulchion from the foe, To India had the Count resolved to go:

LVII Deeming he should not find that king elsewhere, Who, so he heard, had sailed from the French shore. A nearer place is offered now; and there He hopes Gradasso shall his prize restore; Moved also by Almontes' bugle rare, To accept the challenge which the herald bore; Nor less by Brigliadoro; since he knew In Agramant's possession were the two.

LVIII He chose for his companions in the fight The faithful Brandimart and Olivier: Well has he proved the one and the other's might; Knows he alike to both is passing dear. Good horses and good armour seeks the knight And goodly swords and lances, far and near, For him and his; meseems to you is known How none of those three warriors had his own.

LIX Orlando (as I oft have certified) In fury, his had scattered wide and far; Rodomont took the others', which beside The river, locked in that high turret are. Few throughout Africa could they provide; As well because to France, in that long war, King Agramant had born away the best, As because Africa but few possest.

LX What could be had of armour, rusted o'er And brown with age, Orlando bids unite; Meanwhile with his companions on the shore, He walks, discoursing on the future fight. So wandering from their camp three miles and more, It chanced that, turning towards the sea their sight, Under full sail approaching, they descried A helmless barque, with nought her course to guide.

LXI She, without pilot, without crew, alone, As wind and fortune ordered it, was bound: The vessel neared the shore, with sails full-blown, Furrowing the waves, until she took the ground. But ere of these three warriors more be shown, The love wherewith I to the Child am bound, To his story brings me back, and bids record What past 'twixt him and Clermont's warlike lord.

LXII I spake of that good pair of warriors, who Had both retreated from the martial fray, Beholding pact and treaty broken through, And every troop and band in disarray. Which leader to his oath was first untrue, And was occasion of such evil, they Study to learn of all the passing train; King Agramant or the Emperor Charlemagne.

LXIII Meanwhile a servant of the Child's, at hand, -- Faithful, expert and wary was the wight, Nor in the shock of either furious band, Had ever of his warlike lord lost sight -- To bold Rogero bore his horse and brand, That he might aid his comrades now in flight. Rogero backed the steed and grasped the sword; But not in battle mixed that martial lord.

LXIV Thence he departed; but he first renewed His compact with Montalban's knight -- that so His Agramant convinced of perjury stood -- Him and his evil sect he would forego. That day no further feats of hardihood Rogero will perform against the foe: He but demands of all that make for Arles, Who first broke faith, King Agramant or Charles?

LXV From all he hears repeated, far and near, That Agramant had broke the promise plight: He loves that king, and from his side to veer, For this, believes would be no error light. The Moors were broke and scattered (this whilere Has been rehearsed) and from the giddy height Of HER revolving wheel were downward hurled, Who at her pleasure rolls this nether world.

LXVI Rogero ponders if he should remain, Or rather should his sovereign lord attend: Love for his lady fits him with a rein And bit, which lets him not to Africk wend; Wheels him, and to a counter course again Spurs him, and threats his restive mood to shend, Save he maintains the treaty, and the troth Pledged to the paladin with solemn oath.

LXVII A wakeful, stinging care, on the other side Scourges and goads no less the cavalier; Lest, if he now from Agramant divide, He should be taxed with baseness or with fear. If many deem it well he should abide, To many and many it would ill appear: Many would say, that oaths unbinding are, Which 'tis unlawful and unjust to swear.

LXVIII He all that day and the ensuing night Remains alone, and so the following day; Forever sifting in his doubtful sprite, If it be better to depart or stay: Lastly for Agramant decides the knight; To him in Africk will he wend his way: Moved by his love for his liege-lady sore, But moved by honour and by duty more.

LXIX He made for Arles, where yet he hoped would ride The fleet which him to Africa might bear; Nor in the port nor offing ships espied, Nor Saracens save dead beheld he there. For Agramant had swept the roadstead wide, And burnt what vessels in the haven were. Rogero takes the road, when his hope fails, Along the sea-beat shore toward Marseilles.

LXX Upon some boat he hoped to lay his hand, Which him for love or force should thence convey. Already Ogier's son had made the land, With the barbarians' fleet, his captive prey. You could not there have cast a grain of sand Between those vessels; moored closely lay The mighty squadrons to that harbour brought, With conquerors these, and those with prisoners fraught.

LXXI The vessels of the Moor that were not made The food of fire and water on that night (Saving some few that fled) were all conveyed Safe to Marseilles by the victorious knight Seven of those kings, that Moorish sceptres swayed, Who, having seen their squadron put to flight, With their seven ships had yielded to the foe, Stood mute and weeping, overwhelmed with woe.

LXXII Dudon had issued forth upon dry land, Bent to find Charlemagne that very day; And of the Moorish spoil and captive band Made in triumphal pomp a long display. The prisoners all were ranged upon the strand, And round them stood their Nubian victors gay; Who, shouting in his praise, with loud acclaim, Made all that region ring with Dudon's name.

LXXIII Rogero, when from far the ships he spied, Believed they were the fleet of Agramant, And, to know further, pricked his courser's side; Then, nearer, mid those knights of mickle vaunt, Nasamon's king a prisoner he desired, Agricalt, Bambirago, Farurant, Balastro, Manilardo, and Rimedont; Who stood with weeping eyes and drooping front.

LXXIV In their unhappy state to leave that crew The Child, who loved those monarchs, cannot bear; That useless is the empty hand he knew; That where force is not, little profits prayer. He couched his lance, their keeper overthrew, Then proved his wonted might with faulchion bare; And in a moment stretched upon the strand Above a hundred of the Nubian band.

LXXV The noise Sir Dudon hears, the slaughter spies, But knows not who the stranger cavalier: He marks how, put to rout, his people flies; With anguish, with lament and mighty fear; Quickly for courser, shield, and helmet cries, (Bosom, and arms, and thighs, were mailed whilere) Leaps on his horse, nor -- having seized his lance -- Forgets he is a paladin of France.

LXXVI He called on every one to stand aside, And with the galling spur his courser prest; Meanwhile a hundred other foes have died, And filled with hope was every prisoner's breast; And as Rogero holy Dudon spied Approach on horseback, (footmen were the rest,) Esteeming him their head, he charged the knight, Impelled by huge desire to prove his might.

LXXVII Already, on his part, had moved the Dane; But when he saw the Child without a spear, He flang is own far from him, in disdain To take such vantage of the cavalier. Admiring at Sir Dudon's courteous vein, "Belie himself he cannot," said the peer, "And of those perfect warriors must be one That as the paladins of France are known.

LXXVIII "If I my will can compass, he shall shew His name, to me, ere further deed be done." He made demand; and in the stranger knew Dudon, the Danish Ogier's valiant son: He from Rogero claimed an equal due, And from the Child as courteous answer won. -- Their names on either side announced -- the foes A bold defiance speak, and come to blows.

LXXIX Bold Dudon had with him that iron mace, Which won him deathless fame in many a fight: Wherewith he proved him fully of the race Of that good Danish warrior, famed for might. That best of faulchions, which through iron case Of cuirass or of casque was wont to bite, Youthful Rogero from the scabbard snatched, And with the martial Dane his valour matched.

LXXX But for the gentle youth was ever willed To offend his lady-love the least he could, And knew he should offend her, if he spilled, In that disastrous battle, Dudon's blood (Well in the lineage of French houses skilled He wist of Beatrice's sisterhood, -- Bradamant's mother she -- with Armelline, The mother of the Danish paladine).

LXXXI He therefore never thrust in that affray, And rarely smote an edge on plate and chain. Now warding off the mace, now giving way, Before the fall of that descending bane. Turpin believes it in Rogero lay Sir Dudon in few sword-strokes to have slain. Yet never when the Dane his guard foregoes, Save on the faulchion's flat descend the blows.

LXXXII The flat as featly as the edge he plies, Of that good faulchion forged of stubborn grain; And, at strange blindman's bluff, in weary wise, Hammers on Dudon with such might and main, He often dazzles so the warrior's eyes, That hardly he his saddle can maintain. But to win better audience for my rhyme, My canto I defer to other time.

Canto 41

ARGUMENT His prisoners to the Child the Danish peer Consigns, who, homeward bound, are wrecked at sea; By swimming he escapes, and a sincere And faithful servant now of Christ is he. Meanwhile bold Brandimart, and Olivier, And Roland fiercely charge the hostile three. Sobrino is left wounded in the strife; Gradasso and Agramant deprived of life.

I The odour which well-fashioned bear or hair, Of that which find and dainty raiment steeps Of gentle stripling, or of damsel fair, -- Who often love awakens, as she weeps -- If it ooze forth and scent the ambient air, And which for many a day its virtue keeps, Well shows, by manifest effects and sure, How perfect was its first perfume and pure.

II The drink that to his cost good Icarus drew Of yore his sun-burned sicklemen to cheer, And which ('tis said) lured Celts and Boi through Our Alpine hills, untouched by toil whilere, Well shows that cordial was the draught, when new; Since it preserves its virtue through the year. The tree to which its wintry foliage cleaves, Well shows that verdant were its spring tide leaves.

III The famous lineage, for so many years Of courtesy the great and lasting light, Which ever, brightening as it burns, appears To shine and flame more clearly to the sight, Well proves the sire of Este's noble peers Must, amid mortals, have shone forth as bright In all fair gifts which raise men to the sky, As the glad sun mid glittering orbs on high.

IV As in his every other feat exprest, Rogero's valiant mind and courteous lore Were showed by tokens clear and manifest, And his high mindedness shone more and more; -- So toward the Dane those virtues stood confest, With whom (as I rehearsed to you before) He had belied his mighty strength and breath; For pity loth to put that lord to death.

V The Danish warrior was well certified, No wish to slay him had the youthful knight, Who spared him now, when open was his side; Now, when so wearied he no more could smite. When finally he knew, and plain descried Rogero scrupled to put forth his might, If with less vigour and less prowess steeled, At least in courtesy he would not yield.

VI "Pardi, sir, make we peace;" (he said) "success In this contention cannot fall to me -- Cannot be mine; for I myself confess Conquered and captive to thy courtesy." To him Rogero answered, "And no less I covet peace, than 'tis desired by thee. But this upon condition, that those seven Are freed from bondage, and to me are given."

VII With that he showed those seven whereof I spake, Bound and with drooping heads, a sad array; Adding, he must to him no hindrance make, Who would those kings to Africa convey. And Dudon thus allowed the Child to take Those seven, and him allowed to bear away A bark as well; what likes him best he chooses, Amid those vessels, and for Africk looses.

VIII He looses bark and sail; and in bold wise Trusting the fickle wind, to seaward stood. At first on her due course the vessel flies, And fills the pilot full of hardihood. The beach retreats, and from the sailors' eyes So fades, the sea appears a shoreless flood. Upon the darkening of the day, the wind Displays its fickle and perfidious kind.

IX It shifts from poop to beam, from beam to prow, And even there short season doth remain: The reeling ship confounds the pilot; now Struck fore, now aft, now on her beam again. Threatening the billows rise, with haughty brow, And Neptune's white herd lows above the main. As many deaths appear to daunt that rout, As waves which beat their troubled bark about.

X Now blows the wind in front, and now in rear, And drives this wave an-end, that other back; Others the reeling vessel's side o'erpeer; And every billow threatens equal wrack. The pilot sighs, confused and pale with fear; Vainly he calls aloud to shift the tack, To strike or jibe the yard; and with his hand, Signs to the crew the thing he would command.

XI But sound or signal little boots; the eye Sees not amid the dim and rainy night; The voice unheard ascends into the sky, -- The sky, which with a louder larum smite The troubled sailors' universal cry, And roar of waters, which together fight. Unheard is every hest, above, below, Starboard or larboard, upon poop or prow.

XII In the strained tackle sounds a hollow roar, Wherein the struggling wind its fury breaks; The forked lightning flashes evermore, With fearful thunder heaven's wide concave shakes. One to the rudder runs, one grasps an oar; Each to his several office him betakes. One will make fast, another will let go; Water into the water others throw.

XIII Lo! howling horribly, the sounding blast, Which Boreas in his sudden fury blows, Scourges with tattered sail the reeling mast: Almost as high as heaven the water flows: The oars are broken; and so fell and fast That tempest pelts, the prow to leeward goes; And the ungoverned vessel's battered side Is undefended from the foaming tide.

XIV Fallen on her starboard side, on her beam ends, About to turn keel uppermost, she lies. Meanwhile, his soul to Heaven each recommends, Surer than sure to sink, with piteous cries. Scathe upon scathe malicious Fortune sends, And when one woe is weathered, others rise. O'erstrained, the vessel splits; and through her seams In many a part the hostile water streams.

XV A fierce assault and cruel coil doth keep Upon all sides that wintry tempest fell. Now to their sight so high the billows leap, It seems that these to heaven above would swell; Now, plunging with the wave, they sink so deep, That they appear to spy the gulfs of hell. Small hope there is or none: with faultering breath They gaze upon inevitable death.

XVI On a despiteous sea, that livelong night, They drifted, as the wind in fury blew. The furious wind that with the dawning light Should have abated, gathered force anew. Lo! a bare rock, ahead, appears in sight, Which vainly would the wretched band eschew; Whom towards that cliff, in their despite, impel The raging tempest and the roaring swell.

XVII Three times and four the pale-faced pilot wrought The tiller with a vigorous push to sway; And for the bark a surer passage sought: But the waves snapt and bore the helm away. To lower, or ease the bellying canvas aught The sailors had no power; nor time had they To mend that ill, or counsel what was best; For them too hard the mortal peril prest.

XVIII Perceiving now that nothing can defend Their bark from wreck on that rude rock and bare, All to their private aims alone attend, And only to preserve their life have care. Who quickest can, into the skiff descend; But in a thought so overcrowded are, Through those so many who invade the boat, That, gunwale-deep, she scarce remains afloat.

XIX Rogero, on beholding master, mate, And men abandoning the ship with speed, In doublet, as he is, sans mail and plate, Hopes in the skiff, a refuge in that need: But finds her overcharged with such a weight, And afterwards so many more succeed, That the o'erwhelming wave the pinnace drown, And she with all her wretched freight goes down;

XX Goes down, and, foundering, drags with her whoe'er Leaving the larger bark, on her relies. Then doleful shrieks are heard, 'mid sob and tear, Calling for succour on unpitying skies: But for short space that shrilling cry they rear; For, swoln with rage and scorn, the waters rise, And in a moment wholly stop the vent Whence issues that sad clamour and lament.

XXI One sinks outright, no more to reappear; Some rise, and bounding with the billows go: Their course, with head uplifted, others steer; An arm, an unshod leg, those others show: Rogero, who the tempest will not fear, Springs upward to the surface from below; And little distant sees that rock, in vain Eschewed by him and his attendant train.

XXII Himself with hands and feet the warrior rows, Hoping by force thereof to win the shore; Breast boldly the importunate flood, and blows With his unwearied breath the foam before. Waxing meanwhile, the troubled water rose, And from the rock the abandoned vessel bore; Quitted of those unhappy men, who die (So curst their lot) the death from which they fly.

XXIII Alas! for man's deceitful thoughts and blind! The ship escaped from wreck, where hope was none; When master and when men their charge resigned, And let the vessel without guidance run. It would appear the wind has changed its mind, On seeing all that sailed in her are gone; And blows the vessel from those shallows free, Through better course, into a safer sea.

XXIV She, having drifted wildly with her guide, Without him, made directly Africk's strand, Two or three miles of waste Biserta wide, Upon the quarter facing Egypt's land; And, as the sea went down and the wind died, Stood bedded in that weary waste of sand. Now thither Roland roved, who paced the shore; As I in other strain rehearsed before;

XXV And willing to discover if alone, Laden, or light, the stranded vessel were, He, Olivier, and Monodantes' son, Aboard her in a shallow bark repair: Beneath the hatchways they descend, but none Of human kind they see; and only there Find good Frontino, with the trenchant sword And gallant armour of his youthful lord;

XXVI Who was so hurried in his hasty flight He had not even time to take his sword; To Orlando known; which, Balisardo hight, Was his erewhile; the tale's upon record, And ye have read it all, as well I wite; How Falerina lost it to that lord, When waste as well her beauteous bowers he laid; And how from him Brunello stole the blade;

XXVII And how beneath Carena, on the plain Brunello on Rogero this bestowed. How matchless was that faulchion's edge and grain, To him experience had already showed; I say, Orlando; who was therefore fain, And to heaven's king with grateful thanks o'erflowed; And deemed, and often afterwards so said, Heaven for such pressing need had sent the blade:

XXVIII Such pressing need, in that he had to fight With the redoubted king of Sericane; And knew that he, besides his fearful might, Was lord of Bayard and of Durindane. Not knowing them, Anglantes' valiant knight So highly rated not the plate and chain As he that these had proved: they valour were, But valued less as good than rich and fair;

XXIX And, for of harness he had little need, Charmed, and against all weapons fortified, To Olivier he left the warlike weed: Not so the sword; which to his waist he tied: To Brandimart Orlando gave the steed: Thus equally that spoil would he divide With his companions twain, in equal share, Who partners in that rich discovery were.

XXX Against the day of fight, in goodly gear And new, those warriors seek their limbs to deck. Blazoned upon Orlando's shield appear The burning bold and lofty Babel's wreck. A lyme-dog argent bears Sir Olivier, Couchant, and with the leash upon his neck: The motto; TILL HE COMES: In gilded vest And worthy of himself he will be drest.

XXXI Bold Brandimart designed upon the day Of battle, for his royal father's sake, And his own honour, no device more gay Than a dim surcoat to the field to take. By gentle Flordelice for that dark array, Was wrought the fairest facing she could make. With costly jewels was the border sown; Sable the vest, and of one piece alone.

XXXII With her own hand the lady wrought that vest, Becoming well the finest plate and chain, Wherein the valiant warrior should be drest, And cloak his courser's croup and chest and mane: But, from that day when she herself addrest Unto this task, till ended was her pain, She showed no sign of gladness; nor this while, Nor after, was she ever seen to smile.

XXXIII The heartfelt fear, the torment evermore Of losing Brandimart the dame pursued. She him whilere a hundred times and more Engaged in fierce and fearful fight had viewed; Nor ever suchlike terror heretofore Had blanched her cheek and froze her youthful blood; And this new sense of fear increased her trouble, And made the trembling lady's heart beat double.

XXXIV The warriors to the wind their canvas rear, When point device the three accoutred are. Bold Sansonet is left, with England's peer, Intrusted with the faithful army's care. Flordelice, pricked at heart with cruel fear, Filling the heavens with vow, lament and prayer, As far as they by sight can followed be, Follows their sails upon the foaming sea.

XXXV Scarce, with much labour, the two captains led Her, gazing on the waters, from the shore, And to the palace drew, where on her bed They left the lady, grieved and trembling sore. Meanwhile upon their quest those others sped, Whom mercy wind and weather seaward bore. Their vessel made that island on the right; The field appointed for so fell a fight.

XXXVI Orlando disembarks, with his array, His kinsman Olivier and Brandimart; Who on the side which fronts the eastern ray, Encamp them, and not haply without art. King Agramant arrives that very day, And tents him on the contrary part. But for the sun is sinking fast, forborne Is their encounter till the following morn.

XXXVII Until the skies the dawning light receive, Armed servants keep their watch both there and here. The valiant Brandimart resorts that eve Thitherward, where their tents the paynims rear; And parleys, by this noble leader's leave, With Agramant; for they were friends whilere; And, underneath the banner of the Moor, He into France had passed from Africk's shore.

XXXVIII After salutes, and joining hand with hand, Fair reasons, as a friend, the faithful knight Pressed on the leader of the paynim band Why he should not the appointed battle fight; And every town -- restored to his command -- Laying 'twixt Nile and Calpe's rocky height, Vowed he, with Roland's license, should receive, If upon Mary's Son he would believe.

XXXIX He said: "For loved you were, and are by me, This counsel give I; that I deem it sane, Since I pursue it, you assured must be: Mahound I hold but as an idol vain; In Jesus Christ, the living God I see, And to conduct you in my way were fain; I' the way of safety fain would have you move With me and all those others that I love.

XL "In this consists your welfare; counsel none Save this, in your disaster, can avail; And, of all counsels least, good Milo's son To meet in combat, clad in plate and mail; In that the profit, if the field be won, Weighs not against the loss, in equal scale. If you be conqueror, little gain ensues, Yet little loss results not, if you lose.

XLI "Were good Orlando and we others slain, Banded with him to conquer or to die; Wherefore, through this, ye should your lost domain Acquire anew, forsooth, I see not, I; Nor is there reason hope to entertain That, if we lifeless on the champaigne lie, Men should be wanting in King Charles's host To guard in Africa his paltriest post."

XLII Thus Brandimart to Afick's cavalier; And much would have subjoined; but, on his side, That knight, with angry voice and haughty cheer, The pagan interrupted, and replied: " `Tis sure temerity and madness sheer Moves you and whatsoever wight beside, That counsels matter, be it good or ill, Uncalled a counsellor's duty to fulfil;

XLIII "And how to think, from love those counsels flow Which once you bore and bear me, as you say, (To speak the very truth) I do not know, Who with Orlando see you here, this day. I ween that, knowing you are doomed to woe, And marked for the devouring dragon's prey, Ye all mankind would drag to nether hell, In your eternity of pains to dwell.

XLIV "If I shall win or lose, remount my throne, Or pass my future days in exile drear, God only knows, whose purpose is unknown To me, in turn, or to Anglantes' peer. Befall what may, by me shall nought be done Unworthy of a king, through shameful fear. If death must be my certain portion, I, Rather than wrong my princely blood, will die.

XLV "Ye may depart, who, save ye better play The warrior, in to-morrow's listed fight, Then ye have plaid the embassador to-day, In arms will second ill Anglantes' knight." Agramant ended so his furious say; -- His angry bosom boiling with despite. So said -- the warriors parted, to repose, Till from the neighbouring sea the day arose.

XLVI When the first whitening of the dawn was seen, Armed, in a moment leapt on horseback all; Short parley past the puissant foes between. There was no stop; there was no interval; For they have laid in rest their lances keen: But I into too foul a fault should fall Meseems, my lord, if, while their deeds I tell I let Rogero perish in the swell.

XLVII Cleaving the flood with nimble hands and feet He swims, amid the horrid surges' roar, On him the threatening wind and tempest beat, But him his harassed conscience vexes more. Christ's wrath he fears; and, since in waters sweet (When time and fair occasion served of yore) He, in his folly, baptism little prized, Fears in these bitter waves to be baptized.

XLVIII Those many promises remembered are Whereby he to his lady-love was tied, Those oaths which sworn to good Rinaldo were, And were in nought fulfilled upon his side. To God, in hope that he would hear and spare, That he repented, oftentimes he cried, And, should he land, and scape that mortal scaith, To be a Christian, vowed in heart and faith;

XLIX And ne'er, in succour of the Moorish train, With sword or lance, the faithful to offend; And into France, where he to Charlemagne Would render honour due, forthwith to wend; Nor Bradamant with idle words again To cheat, but bring his love to honest end. A miracle it is that, as he vows, He swims more lightly and his vigour grows.

L His vigour grows; unwearied is his mind; And still his arms from him the billow throw, This billow followed fast by that behind; Whereof one lifts him high, one sinks him low. Rising and falling, vext by wave and wind, So gains the Child that shore with labour slow; And where the rocky hill slopes seaward most, All drenched and dropping, climbs the rugged coast.

LI All the others that had plunged into the flood In the end, o'erwhelmed by those wild waters died. Rogero, as to Providence seemed good, Mounted the solitary islet's side. When safe upon the barren rock he stood, A new alarm the stripling terrified; To be within those narrow bounds confined, And die, with hardship and with hunger pined.

LII Yet he with an unconquered heart, intent To suffer what the heavens for him ordained, O'er those hard stones, against that steep ascent, Towards the top with feet intrepid strained; And not a hundred yards had gone, when, bent With years, and with long fast and vigil stained, He worthy of much worship one espied, In hermit's weed, descend the mountain's side;

LIII Who cries, on his approaching him, "Saul, Saul, Why persecutest thou my faithful seed?" As whilom said the Saviour to Saint Paul, When (blessed stroke!) he smote him from his steed. "Thou thought'st to pass the sea, nor pay withal; Thought'st to defraud the pilot of his meed. Thou seest that God has arms to reach and smite, When farthest off thou deem'st that God of might."

LIV And he, that holiest anchoret, pursued, To whom the night foregoing God did send A vision, as he slumbered, and foreshewed How, thither by his aid the Child should wend; Wherein his past and future life, reviewed, Were seen, as well as his unhappy end; And sons, and grandsons, and his every heir, Fully revealed to that good hermit were.

LV That anchoret pursues, and does upbraid Rogero first, and comforts finally: Upbraideth him, because he had delaid Beneath that easy yoke to bend the knee; And what he should have done, when whilom prayed And called of Christ -- then uncompelled and free -- Had done with little grace; nor turned to God Until he saw him threatening with the rod.

LVI Then comforts him -- that Christ aye heaven allows To them, that late or early heaven desire; And all those labourers of the Gospel shows, Paid by the vineyard's lord with equal hire. With charity and warm devotion glows, And him instructs the venerable sire, As toward the rocky cell where he resides He with weak steps and slow Rogero guides.

LVII Above that hallowed cell, on the hill's brow, A little church receives the rising day; Commodious is the fane and fair enow; Thence to the beach descends a thicket gray, Where fertile and fruit-bearing palm-trees blow, Myrtle, and lowly juniper, and bay, Evermore threaded by a limpid fountain, Which falls with ceaseless murmur from the mountain.

LVIII 'Twas well nigh forty years, since on that stone The goodly friar had fixed his quiet seat; Which, there to live a holy life, alone, For him the Saviour chose, as harbourage meet. Pure water was his drink, and, plucked from one, Or the other plant, wild berries were his meat; And hearty and robust, of ailments clear, The holy man had reached his eightieth year.

LIX That hermit lit a fire, and heaped the board With different fruits, within his small repair; Wherewith the Child somedeal his strength restored, When he had dried his clothes and dripping hair. After, at better ease, to him God's word And mysteries of our faith expounded were; And the day following, in his fountain clear, That anchoret baptized the cavalier.

LX There dwells the young Rogero, well content With what the rugged sojourn does allow; In that the friar showed shortly his intent To send him where he fain would turn his prow. Meanwhile with him he many an argument Handles and often; of God's kingdom now; Now of things appertaining to his case; Now to Rogero's blood, a future race.

LXI The Lord, that every thing doth see and hear, Had to that holiest anchoret bewrayed, How he should not exceed the seventh year, Dating from when he was a Christian made; Who for the death of Pinabel whilere, (His lady's deed, but on Rogero laid) As well as Bertolagi's, should be slain By false Maganza's ill and impious train;

LXII And, how that treason should be smothered so, No sign thereof should outwardly appear; For where that evil people dealt the blow, They should entomb the youthful cavalier. For this should vengeance follow, albeit slow, Dealt by his consort and his sister dear; And how he by his wife should long be sought, With weary womb, with heavy burden fraught,

LXIII 'Twixt Brenta and Athesis, beneath those hills (Which erst the good Antenor so contented, With their sulphureous veins and liquid rills, And mead, and field, with furrows glad indented, That he for these left pools which Xanthus fills; And Ida, and Ascanius long lamented,) Till she a child should in the forests bear, Which little distant from Ateste are;

LXIV And how the Child, in might and beauty grown, That, like his sire, Rogero shall be hight, Those Trojans, as of Trojan lineage known, Shall for their lord elect with solemn rite; Who next by Charles (in succour of whose crown Against the Lombards shall the stripling fight) Of that fair land dominion shall obtain, And the honoured title of a marquis gain;

LXV And because Charles shall say in Latin `Este', (That is -- be lords of the dominion round!) Entitled in a future season Este Shall with good omen be that beauteous ground; And thus its ancient title of Ateste Shall of its two first letters lose the sound. God also to his servant had foresaid The vengeance taken for Rogero's dead;

LXVI Who shall, in vision, to his consort true Appear somedeal before the dawn of day; And shall relate how him the traitor slew, And where his body lies to her shall say. She and Marphisa hence, those valiant two, With fire and sword on earth shall Poictiers lay; Nor shall his son, when of befitting age, Less harm Maganza in his mighty rage.

LXVII On Azos, Alberts, Obysons, did dwell That hermit hoar, and on their offspring bright; Or Borso, Nicholas, and Leonel, Alphonso, Hercules, and Hippolyte, And. last of those, the gentle Isabel; Then curbs his tongue and will no more recite. He to Rogero what is fit reveals, And what is fitting to conceal, conceals.

LXVIII Meanwhile Orlando and bold Brandimart, With that good knight, the Marquis Olivier, Against the paynim Mars together start; (Name well befitting Sericana's peer) And the other two -- that from the adverse part, At more than a foot-pace their coursers steer; I say King Agramant and King Sobrine: The pebbly beach resounds, and rolling brine.

LXIX When they encounter in mid field, pell-mell, And to the sky flew every shivered lance, At that loud noise, the sea was seen to swell, At that loud noise, which echoed even to France. Gradasso and Roland met as it befel; And fairly balanced might appear the chance, But for the vantage of Rinaldo's horse; Which made Gradasso seem of greater force.

LXX Baiardo shocked the steed of lesser might, Backed by Orlando, with such might and main, He made that courser stagger, left and right, And measure next his length upon the plain: Vainly to raise him strove Anglantes' knight, Thrice, nay four times, with rowels and with rein; Balked of his end, he lights upon the field, Draws Balisarda, and uplifts his shield.

LXXI With Agramant encounters Olivier, Who, fitly matched, their foaming coursers gall. Bold Brandimart unhorsed in the career Sobrino; but it was not plain withal If 'twas the fault of horse or cavalier; For seldom good Sobrino used to fall. Was it his courser's or his own misdeed, Sobrino found himself without a steed.

LXXII Now Brandimart, that upon earth descried The king Sobrine, assailed no more his man; But at Gradasso, who Anglantes' pride Had equally unhorsed, in fury ran. On Agramant and Oliviero's side, Meanwhile the warfare stood as it began: When broken on their bucklers were the spears, With swords encountered the returning peers.

LXXIII Roland who saw Gradasso in such guise, As showed that to return he little cared, -- Nor can return; so Brandimart aye plies, And presses Sericana's monarch hard, Turns round, and, like himself, afoot descries Sobrino, in the doubtful strife unpaired: At him he sprang; and, at his haughty look, Heaven, as the warrior trod, in terror shook.

LXXIV Foreseeing the assault with wary eye, Prepared, and at close ward, behold the Moor! As pilot against whom, now cresting nigh, The threatening billow comes with hollow roar, Towards it turns his prow, and, when so high He views the sea, would gladly be ashore. Sobrino rears his buckler, to withstand The furious fall of Falerina's brand.

LXXV Of such fine steel was Balisarda's blade, That arms against it little shelter were; And by a person of such puissance swayed, By Roland, singe in the world or rare, It splits the shield, and is in nowise stayed, Though bound about with steel the edges are: It splits the shield, and to the bottom rends, And on the shoulder underneath descends.

LXXVI Upon the shoulder; nor, though twisted chain And double plates encase the paynim foe, These hinder much that sword of stubborn grain From opening wide the parted flesh below. Sobrino at Orlando smites; but vain Against the valiant count is every blow; To whom, for special grace, the King of heaven A body charmed against all arms had given.

LXXVII The valorous count, redoubling still his blows, Thought from the trunk the monarch's head to smite. Sobrino, who the strength of Clermont knows, And how the shield ill boots, retired from fight, Yet not so far, but that upon his brows Fell the dread faulchion of Anglantes' knight: 'Twas on its flat, but such his might and main, It crushed the helm and stupefied the brain.

LXXVIII Stunned by that furious stroke, he pressed the shore, And it was long ere he again did rise. The paladin believes the warfare o'er, And that deprived of life Sobrino lies; And, lest Gradasso to ill pass and sore Should bring Sir Brandimart, at him he flies: For him the paynim overmatched in horse, In arms and faulchion, and perhaps in force.

LXXIX Bold Brandimart, who guides Frontino's rein, The goodly courser, erst Rogero's steed, So well contends with him of Sericane, The king yet little seems his foe to exceed; Who, if he had as tempered plate and chain As that bold paynim lord, would better speed; But (for he felt himself ill-armed) the knight Often gave ground, and traversed left and right.

LXXX Better than good Frontino horse is none To obey upon a sign the cavalier; 'Twould seem that courser had the sense to shun Sharp Durindana's fall, now there now here. Meanwhile elsewhere is horrid battle done By royal Agramant and Olivier; Who may be deemed well matched in warlike sleight, Nor champions differing much in martial might.

LXXXI Orlando had left Sobrino (as I said) On earth, and against Sericana's pride, Desirous valiant Brandimart to aid, Even as he was, afoot, in fury hied: When, prompt to assail Gradasso with the blade, He, loose and walking in mid field, espied The goodly horse, which had Sobrino thrown; And bowned him straight to make the steed his own.

LXXXII He seized the horse (for none the deed gainsaid) And took a leap, and vaulted on his prize. This hand the bridle grasped, and that the blade. Orlando's motions good Gradasso spies; Nor at his coming is the king dismaid; Who by his name the paladin defies: With him, and both his partners in the fight, He hopes to make it dark before 'tis night.

LXXXIII Leaving his foe, he, facing Brava's lord, Thrust at the collar of his shirt of mail, All else beside the flesh the faulchion bored; To pierce through which would every labour fail. At the same time descends Orlando's sword, (Where Balisarda bites no spells avail) Shears helmet, cuirass, shield, and all below, And cleaves whate'er it rakes with headlong blow;

LXXXIV And in face, bosom, and in thigh it seamed, Beneath his mail, the king of Sericane. From whom his blood till how had never streamed Since he that armour wore; new rage and pain Thereat the warrior felt, and strange it seemed Sword cut so now, nor yet was Durindane. Had Roland struck more home, or nearer been, From head to belly he had cleft him clean.

LXXXV No more in arms can trust the cavalier As heretofore; for proved those arms have been: He with more care, more caution than whilere, Prepares to parry with the faulchion keen. When entered Brandimart sees Brava's peer, Who snatched that battle from him, he between Those other conflicts placed himself, that where It most was needed, he might succour bear.

LXXXVI While so the fight is balanced 'mid those foes, Sobrino, that on earth long time had lain, When to himself he was returned, uprose, In face and shoulder suffering grievous pain. He lifts his face, his eyes about him throws; And thither, where more distant on the plain He sees his leader, with long paces steers So stealthily, that none his coming hears;

LXXXVII He on the Marquis came, who had but eyes For Agramant, and in the warrior's rear, Wounded upon the hocks in such fierce wise The courser of unheeding Olivier, That he falls headlong; and beneath him lies His valiant master, nor his foot can clear; His left foot, which in that unthought for woe, Was in the stirrup jammed, his steed below.

LXXXVIII Sorbine pursued, and with back-handed blow Thought he his head should from his neck have shorn; But this forbids that armour, bright of show, By Vulcan hammered, and by Hector worn. Brandimart sees his risque, and at the foe Is by his steed, with flowing bridle, borne. Sobrino on the head he smote and flung; But straight from earth that fierce old man upsprung;

LXXXIX And turned anew to Olivier, to speed The warrior's soul more promptly on its way; Or at the least that baron to impede. And him beneath his courser keep at bay: Bold Olivier, whose better arm was freed, And with his sword could fend him as he lay, Meanwhile so smites and longes, there and here, That at sword's length he holds the ancient peer.

XC He hopes, if him but little he withstood, He shall be straight delivered from that pain: He sees him wholly strained and wet with blood, And that he spills so much from open vein, 'Twould seem he speedily must be subdued, So weak he hardly can himself sustain. Often and oft to rise the Marquis strove, Yet could not from beneath his courser move.

XCI Brandimart has found out the royal Moor, And storms about that paynim cavalier; Upon Frontino, like a lathe, before, Beside, or whirling in the warrior's rear. A goodly horse the Christian champion bore; Nor worse the southern king's in the career: That Brigliador, Rogero's gift he crost, Erewhile, by haughty Mandricardo lost.

XCII Great vantage has he, on another part: Of proof and perfect is his iron weed. His at a venture took Sir Brandimart, As he could have in haste in suchlike need; But hopes (his anger puts him so in heart) To change it for a better coat with speech; Albeit the Moorish king, with bitter blow, Has made the blood from his right should flow.

XCIII Him in the flank Gradasso too had gored; (Nor this was laughing matter) so had scanned His vantage that redoubted paynim lord, He found a place wherein to plant his brand; He broke the warrior's shield, his left arm bored, And touched him slightly in the better hand. But this was play, was pastime (might be said), With Roland's and Gradasso's battle weighed.

XCIV Gradasso has Orlando half disarmed; Atop and on both sides his helm has broke: Fallen is his shield, his cuirass split; but harmed The warrior is not by the furious stroke, Which opened plate and mail; for he is charmed; And worser vengeance on the king has wroke, In face, throat, breast has gored that cavalier, Beside the wounds whereof I spake whilere.

XCV Gradasso, desperate when he descried Himself all wet, and smeared with sanguine dye, And Roland, all from head to foot espied, After such mighty strokes unstained and dry, Thinking head, breast, and belly to divide, With both his hands upheaved his sword on high; And, even as he devised, upon the front, Smote with mid blade Anglantes' haughty count.

XCVI And would by any other so have done; -- Would to the saddle-tree have cleft him clean: But the good sword, as if it fell upon Its flat, rebounds again, unstained and sheen. The furious stroke astounded Milo's son By whom some scattered stars on earth were seen. He drops the bridle and would drop the brand, But that a chain secures it to his hand.

XCVII So by the noise was scared the horse that bore Upon his back Anglantes' cavalier. The courser scowered about the powdery shore, Showing how good his speed in the career: The County by that stroke astounded sore, Has not the power the frightened horse to steer. Gradasso follows and will reach him, so That he but little more pursues the foe;

XCVIII But turning round, beholds the royal Moor To the utmost peril in that battle brought; For by the shining helmet which he wore, With the left hand, him Brandimart had caught; Already had unlaced the casque before, And with his dagger would new ill have wrought: Nor much defence could make the Moorish lord; For Brandimart as well had reft his sword.

XCIX Gradasso turned, nor more Orlando sought, But hastened where he Agramant espied: The incautious Brandimart, suspecting nought Orlando would have let him turn aside, Had not Gradasso in his eyes or thought, And to the paynim's throat his knife applied. Gradasso came, and at his helmet layed, Wielding with either hand his trenchant blade.

C Father of heaven! 'mid spirits chosen by thee, To him thy martyr true, a place accord; Who, having traversed his tempestuous sea, Now furls his sails in port. Ah! ruthless sword, So cruel, Durindana, can'st thou be, To good Orlando, to thine ancient lord, That thou can'st slaughter, in the warrior's view, Of all his friends the dearest and most true?

CI An iron ring that girt his helmet round, Two inches thick, was broke by that fell blow And cleft; and with the solid iron bound, Was parted the good cap of steel below, Bold Brandimart, reversed upon the ground, With haggard face beside his horse lies low; And issuing widely from the warrior's head A stream of life-blood dyes the shingle red.

CII Come to himself, the County turns his eye And sees his Brandimart upon the plain, And in such act Gradasso standing by As clearly shows by whom the knight was slain. If he most raged or grieved I know not, I, But such short time is left him to complain, His hasty wrath breaks forth, his grief gives way; But now 'tis time that I suspend my lay.

Canto 42

ARGUMENT The victory with Count Orlando lies; But good Rinaldo and Bradamant at heart, (One for Angelica, the other sighs For young Rogero) suffer cruel smart. Him that in chase of the Indian damsel hies Disdain preserves; from thence does he depart Towards Italy, and is with courteous cheer And welcome guested by a cavalier.

I What bit, what iron curb is to be found, Or (could it be) what adamantine rein, That can make wrath keep order and due bound, And within lawful limits him contain? When one, to whom the constant heart is bound And linked by Love with solid bolt and chain, We see, through violence or through foul deceit, With mortal damage or dishonour meet.

II And is the mind sometimes, if so possest, To ill and savage action led astray, It may deserve excuse; in that the breast No more is under Reason's sovereign sway. Achilles, when, beneath his borrowed crest, He saw Patroclus crimsoning the way, Was with his murderer's slaughter ill content, Till he his mangled corse had dragged and shent.

III Unconquered Duke Alphonso, anger so Inflamed thy host the day that weighty stone Wounded thy forehead with such grievous blow, That all believed it to its rest was gone; -- Inflamed them with such fury, for the foe In rampart, fosse, or wall, defence was none, Who, one and all, within their works lay dead, Nor wight was left the woeful news to spread.

IV Seeing thy fall caused thine such mighty pain, They were to fury moved; hadst thou, my lord, Maintained thy footing, haply might thy train Have with less licence plied the murderous sword. Enough for thee thy Bastia to regain! In fewer hours replaced beneath thy ward, Then Cordova's and fierce Granada's band Took days erewhile, to wrest it from thy hand.

V Haply Heaven's vengeance ordered what befel, And in that case thy wound so hindered thee To the end, the cruel outrage, foul and fell, Done by that band before, should punished be. For after the unhappy Vestidel, Wearied and hurt, had sought their clemency, Among them (mostly an unchristened train) He, mid a hundred swords, unarmed, was slain.

VI To end; I say that other rage is none Which can be weighed with that in equal wise, Which kindles, when an injury is done To kinsman, friend or lord before our eyes. Then justly in Orlando's heart, for one So dear to him, might sudden fury rise; When him he saw, extended on the sand, Slain by the stroke of fierce Gradasso's brand.

VII As nomade swain, who darting on its way In slippery line the horrid snake has seen, That his young son, amid the sands at play, Has killed with venomed tooth, enflamed with spleen, Grasps his batoon, the poisonous worm to slay; His sword, than every other sword more keen, So, in his fury grasped Anglantes' knight, And wreaked on Agramant his first despite,

VIII Scaped, bleeding, with helm loosened form his head, With half a shield and swordless, through his mail, Sore wounded in more places than is said; As from the dull or envious falcon's nail, Escapes the unhappy sparrowhawk, half dead, With ruffled plumage and with loss of tail. On him Orlando came and smote him just Where with the helmed head confined the bust.

IX Loosed was the helm, the neck without its band: So, like a rush, was severed by the sword. Down-fell, and shook its last upon the sand The heavy trunk of Libya's mighty lord. His spirit, which flitted to the Stygian strand, Charon with crooked boat-hook dragged aboard. On him Orlando wastes no further pain, But, sword in hand, seeks him of Sericane.

X As the headless trunk of Africk's cavalier Extended on the shore Gradasso's viewed, (What never had befallen him whilere) He shook at heart, a troubled visage shewed, And, at the coming of Anglantes' peer, Presageful of his fate, appears subdued: Nor seeks he means of fence against his foe, When fierce Orlando deals the fatal blow.

XI Orlando levels at his better side, Beneath the lowest rib, his faulchion bright; And crimsoned to the hilt, a hand's breadth wide Of the other flank, the sword appears in sight; And well his mighty puissance testified, And spoke him as the strongest living knight That stroke, by which a warrior was undone, Better than whom in Paynimry was none.

XII Little his victory good Orlando cheers: Himself he quickly from his saddle throws; And, with a face disturbed, and wet with tears, To his Brandimart in haste the warrior goes; The field about him red with blood appears, His helmet cleft as by a hatchet's blows; And, had it been than spungy rind more frail, Would have defended him no worse than mail.

XIII Orlando lifts the helmet, and descries Brandimart's head by that destructive brand Cleft even to his nose, between the eyes; Yet so the wounded knight his spirits manned, That pardon of the king of Paradise He, before death, was able to demand, And to exhort to patience Brava's peer, Whose manly cheeks were wet with many a tear;

XIV And -- "Roland, in thy helping orisons, I Beseech thee to remember me," he cried, "Nor recommend to thee less warmly my --" -- Flordelice would, but could not, say -- and died; And sounds and songs of angels in the sky, As the soul parts, are heard on every side; Which from its prison freed, mid hymns of love, Ascends into the blissful realms above.

XV Orlando, albeit he should joy in heart At death so holy, and is certified That called to bliss above is Brandimart; For he heaven opened to the knight described; Through human wilfulness -- which aye takes part With our weak senses -- hardly can abide The loss of one, above a brother dear, Nor can refrain from many a scalding tear.

XVI Warlike Sobrino, of much blood bereaved, Which from his flank and wounded visage rained, Long since had fallen, reversed and sore aggrieved, And had by now his vessels well nigh drained. Olivier too lies stretched; nor has retrieved, Nor can retrieve, his crippled foot, save sprained, And almost crushed; so long between the plain, And his stout courser jammed, the limb has lain;

XVII And but Orlando helped (so woe begone Was weeping Olivier, and brought so low) He could not have released his limb alone; And, when released, endures such pain, such woe, The helpless warrior cannot stand upon, Or shift withal his wounded foot, and so Benumbed and crippled is the leg above, That he without assistance cannot move.

XVIII The victory brought Orlando small delight; On whom too heavily and hardly weighed Of slaughtered Brandimart the piteous sight; Nor sure of Oliviero's life he made. Sobrino yet survived; but little light The wounded monarch had, amid much shade: For almost spend his ebbing life remained So fast from him the crimson blood had drained.

XIX The County has him taken, bleeding sore; Thither, where he is saved with sovereign care; And he as if a kinsman of the Moor, Benignly comforts him and speaks him fair: For in Orlando, when the strife was o'er, Was nothing evil; ever prompt to spare. He from the dead their arms and coursers reft, The rest he to their knives' disposal left.

XX Here as my story stood not on good ground, Frederick Fulgoso doubtful does appear; Who, searching Barbary's every shore and sound Erewhile on board a squadron, landed here; And the isle so rugged and so rocky found, In all its parts so mountainous and drear, There is not (through the land) a level space (He says) whereon a single boot to place.

XXI Nor deems he likely, that six cavaliers, The wide world's flower, on Alpine rock should vye, In that equestrian fight, with levelled spears. To whose objection thus I make reply: Erewhile a place, well fit for such careers, Stretched at the bottom of the hills did lie; But afterwards, o'erthrown by earthquake's shock, A cliff o'erspread the plain with broken rock.

XXII So, of Fulgoso's race thou shining ray, Clear, lasting light, if, questioning my word, Thou on this point hast ever said me nay, And haply too, before the unconquered lord, Through whom thy land, reposing, casts away All haste, and wholly leans to kind accord, Prythee delay not to declare, that I In this my story haply tell no lie.

XXIII Meanwhile his eyes the good Orlando reared, And saw, on turning them to seaward, where Under full sail a nimble bark appeared, As if she to that island would repair. I will not now rehearse who thither steered; For more than one awaiteth me elsewhere. Wend me to France and see if they be glad At having chased the Saracens, or sad;

XXIV See what she does withal, the lady true, That sees her knight content to wend so wide; Of the afflicted Bradamant I shew; After she saw the oath was nullified, Made in the hearing of those armies two, Upon the Christian and the paynim side; Since he again had failed her, there was nought Wherein she could confide, the damsel thought.

XXV And now her too accustomed plaint and wail Repeating, of Rogero's cruelty Fair Bradamant renewed the wonted tale; She cursed her hard and evil destiny; Then loosening to tempestuous grief the sail, Heaven that consented to such perjury, -- And did not yet by some plain token speak -- She, in her passion, called unjust and weak.

XXVI The sage Melissa she accused, and cursed The oracle of the cavern, through whose lie She in that sea of love herself immersed, Upon whose waters she embarked to die. She to Marphisa afterwards rehearsed Her woes, and told her brother's perfidy; She chides, pours forth her sorrows, and demands, With tears and outcries, succour at her hands.

XXVII Marphisa shrugs her shoulders; what alone She can, she offers -- comfort to the fair; Nor thinks Rogero her has so foregone But what to her he shortly will repair. And, should he not, such outrage to be done, The damsel plights her promise not to bear; Twixt her and him shall deadly war be waged, Or he shall keep the word, which he engaged.

XXVIII She makes her somewhat thus her grief restrain; Which having vent in some sort spend its gall, Now we have seen the damsel in her pain Rogero impious, proud, and perjured call, See we, if in a happier state remain The brother of that gentle maid withal; Whose flesh, bones, nerves, and sinews are a prey To burning love; Rinaldo I would say.

XXIX I say Rinaldo that (as known to you) Angelica the beauteous loved so well: Nor him into the amorous fillets drew So much her beauty as the magic spell. In peace reposed those other barons true; For wholly broken was the infidel: Alone amid the victors, he, of all The paladins, remained Love's captive thrall.

XXX To seek her he a hundred couriers sent, And sought as well, himself, the missing maid: He in the end to Malagigi went, Who in his need had often given him aid: To him he told his love, with eyelids bent On earth, and visage crimsoned o'er; and prayed That sage magicians to instruct him, where He in the world might find the long-sought fair.

XXXI A case, so strange and wondrous, marvel sore In friendly Malagigi's bosom bred: The wizard knew, a hundred times and more, He might have had the damsel in his bed; And he himself, to move the knight or yore, In her behalf, enough had done and said: Had him by prayer and menace sought to bend, Yet ne'er was able to obtain his end;

XXXII And so much more, that out of prison ward He then would Malagigi so have brought. Now will he seek her, of his own accord, On less occasion, when it profits nought. Next that magician Montalbano's lord To mark how sorely do had erred, besought: Since little lacked, but through the boon denied, Erewhile he had in gloomy dungeon died.

XXXIII But how much more Rinaldo's strange demand Sounded importunately in his ear, So by sure index Malagigi scanned, That so much was Angelica more dear. Rinaldo prayer unable to withstand, In ocean sunk the wizard cavalier All memory of old injury assaid, And bowned himself to give the warrior aid.

XXXIV For his reply he craved some small delay, And with fair hope consoled Mount Alban's knight, He should be able of the road to say By which Angelica had sped her flight, In France or wheresoe'er; then wends his way Thither where he is wont his imps to cite; A grot impervious and with mountains walled: His book he opened and the spirits called.

XXXV Then one he chooses, in love-cases read, Whom Malagigi to declare requires, How good Rinaldo's heart, before so died, Was now so quickly moved by soft desires; And of those fountains twain (the demon said) Whereof one lights, one quenches amorous fires; And how nought cures the mischief caused by one But that whose streams in counter current run;

XXXVI And says, Rinaldo, having drunk whilere From the love-chasing fountain's mossy urn, To Angelica, that long had wooed the peer, Had shown himself so obstinate and stern; And he, whom after his ill star did steer To drink of that which makes the bosom burn, Her whom but just before he loathed above All reason, by that draught was forced to love.

XXXVII Him his ill star and cruel fate conveyed To swallow fire and flame i' the frozen lake: For nigh at the same time the Indian maid In the other bitter stream her thirst did slake; Which in her bosom so all love allayed, Henceforth she loathed him more than noisome snake; He loved her, and such love was his, as late Rinaldo bore her enmity and hate.

XXXVIII Of this strange story fully certified Was Malagigi by the demon's lore; Who news as well of Angelique supplied; How yielding up herself to a young Moor, With him embarking on the unstable tide, She had abandoned Europe's every shore; And hoisting her bold canvas to the wind, In Catalonian galley loosed for Ind.

XXXIX Rinaldo seeking out the sage anew For his reply -- he would dissuade the knight From loving more that Indian lady, who Now waited on a vile barbarian wight; And was so distant he could ill pursue; If he would chase the damsel on her flight, Who must have measured than half her way Homeward, with young Medoro to Catay.

XL In that bold lover no displeasure deep The journey of Angelica would move; Nor yet would mar or break the warrior's sleep To think that he again must eastward rove: But that a stripling Saracen should reap The first fruits of that faithless lady's love In him such passion bred, such heart-ache sore, He never in his life so grieved before.

XLI No power hath he to make one sole reply; His heart, his lip, is quivering with disdain; His tongue no word is able to untie; His mouth is bitter, and 'twould seem with bane. He flung from the magician suddenly, And, as by fury stirred and jealous pain, He after mighty plaint and mighty woe Resolved anew to eastern realms to go.

XLII Licence he asks of Pepin's royal son, Upon the ground, since with his courser dear To Sericane is King Gradasso gone, Against the use of gallant cavalier, Him honour moves the selfsame course to run, In the end he may prevent the paynim peer From ever vaunting, that with sword or lance He took him from a Paladin of France.

XLIII Charles gives him leave to go; though, far and nigh, With him all France laments he thence should wend; But he in fine that prayer can ill deny, So honest seems the worthy warrior's end. Him Dudon, Guido, would accompany; But he refuses either valiant friend: From Paris he departs, and wends alone, Plunged in his grief and heaving many a groan.

XLIV Ever in memory dwells the restless thought, He might a thousand times have had the fair; And -- mad and obstinate -- had, when besought, A thousand times refused such beauty rare; And such sweet joy was whilom set at nought, Such bright, such blessed moments wasted were; And now he life would gladly give away To have that damsel but for one short day.

XLV The thought will never from his mind depart, How for a sorry footpage she could slight, -- Flinging their merit and their love apart -- The service of each former loving wight. Vext by such thought, which racked and rent his heart, Rinaldo wends towards the rising light: He the straight road to Rhine and Basle pursued, Till he arrived in Arden's mighty wood.

XLVI When within that adventurous wood has hied For many a mile Montalban's cavalier, Of lonely farm or lordly castle wide, Where the rude place was roughest and most drear, The sky disturbed he suddenly descried, He saw the sun's dimmed visage disappear, And spied forth issuing from a cavern hoar A monster, which a woman's likeness wore.

XLVII A thousand lidless eyes are in her head: She cannot close them, nor, I think, doth sleep: She listens with as many ears, and spread Like hair, about her forehead serpents creep. Forth issued into day that figure dread From devilish darkness and the caverned deep. For tail, a fierce and bigger serpent wound About her breast, and girt the monster round.

XLVIII What in a thousand, thousand quests had ne'er Befal'n Rinaldo, here befel the knight; Who, when he sees the horrid form appear, Coming to seek him and prepared for fight, Feels in his inmost veins such freezing fear, As haply never fell on other wight; Yet wonted daring counterfeits and feigns, And with a trembling hand the faulchion strains.

XLIX The monster so the fierce assault did make Therein her master was well descried, It might be said; she shook a poisonous snake, And now on this, now on the other side, Leapt at the knight; at her Rinaldo strake Ever meanwhile with random blows and wide; With forestroke, backstroke, he assails the foe; He often smites, but never plants a blow.

L The monster threw a serpent at his breast, That froze his heart beneath its iron case: Now through the vizor flung the poisonous pest, Which crept about his collar and his face. Dismaid, Rinaldo fled the field, and prest With all his spurs his courser through the chase: But not behind the hellish monster halts, Who in a thought upon the crupper vaults.

LI Wend where the warrior will, an-end or wide, Ever with him is that accursed Pest: Nor knows he how from her to be untied, Albeit his courser plunges without rest. Like a leaf quakes his heart within his side, Not that the snakes in other mode molest, But they such horror and such loathing bred, He shrieks, he groans, and gladly would be dead.

LII By gloomiest track and blindest path he still Threaded the tangled forest here and there; By thorniest valley and by roughest hill, And wheresoever darkest was the air; Thus hoping to have rid him of that ill, Hideous, abominable, poisonous Care; Beneath whose gripe he foully might have fared, But that one quickly to his aid repaired.

LIII But aid, and in good time, a horseman bore, Equipt with arms of beauteous steel and clear: For crest, a broken yoke the stranger wore; Red flames upon his yellow shield appear: So was the courser's housing broidered o'er, As the proud surcoat of the cavalier. His lance he grasped, his sword was in its place, And at his saddle hung a burning mace.

LIV That warrior's mace a fire eternal fills, Whose lasting fuel ever blazes bright; And goodly buckler, tempered corslet thrills, And solid helm; then needs the approaching knight Must make him way, wherever 'tis his will To turn his inextinguishable light. Nor of less help in need Rinaldo stands, To save him from the cruel monster's hands.

LV The stranger horseman, like a warrior bold, Where he that hubbub hears, doth thither swoop, Until he sees the beast, whose snakes enfold Rinaldo, linked in many a loathsome loop, Who sweats at once with heat and quakes with cold, Nor can he thrust the monster from his croup. Arrived the stranger smote her in the flank, Who on the near side of the courser sank:

LVI But scarcely was on earth extended, ere She rose and shook her snakes in volumed spire. The knight no more assails her with the spear; But is resolved to plague the foe with fire: He gripes the mace and thunders in her rear With frequent blows, like tempest in its ire; Nor leaves a moment to that monster fell To strike one stroke in answer, ill or well;

LVII And, while he chases her or holds at bay, Smites her and venges many a foul affront, Counsels the paladin, without delay, To take the road which scales the neighbouring mount: He took that proffered counsel and that way, And without stop, or turning back his front, Pricked furiously till he was out of sight; Though hard to clamber was the rugged height.

LVIII The stranger, when he to her dark retreat Had driven from upper light that beast of hell (Where she herself doth ever gnaw and eat, While from her thousand eyes tears ceaseless well) Followed the knight, to guide his wandering feet; And overtook him on the highest swell; Then placed himself beside the cavalier Him from those dark and gloomy parts to steer.

LIX When him returned beheld Montalban's knight, That countless thanks were due to him, he said, And that at all times, as a debt of right, His life should be for his advantage paid. Of him he next demands, how he is hight, That he may know and tell who brought him aid; And among worthy warriors, and before King Charles, exalt his prowess evermore.

LX The stranger answered: "Let it irk not thee That I not now my name to thee display; Ere longer by a yard the shadows be, This will I signify; a short delay." Wending together, they a river see Whose murmurs woo the traveller from his way, And shepherd-swain, by whiles, to their green brink; There an oblivion of their love to drink.

LXI My lord, that fountain's chilling stream and clear Extinguished love; Angelica of yore Drinking thereof, for good Montalban's peer Conceived that hate she nourished evermore; And if she once displeased the cavalier, And he to her such passing hatred bore, For this no other cause occasion gave, My lord, save drinking of this chilly wave.

LXII Arriving at that limpid river's side, The cavalier that with Rinaldo goes, Reined-in his courser, how with toil, and cried, "Here 'twere not ill, meseemeth, to repose." -- "It cannot but be well" (the peer replied), "Because, beside that mid-day fiercely glows, I have so suffered from that hideous Pest, As sweet and needful shall I welcome rest."

LXIII Upon the green sward lit the martial two, While their loose horses through the forest fed; And from their brows the burnished helmets threw On that flowered herbage, yellow, green, and red. Rinaldo to the liquid crystal flew, By heat and thirst unto the river sped; And with one draught of that cold liquid drove Out of his burning bosom thirst and love.

LXIV Whenas Rinaldo, sated with the draught, Raising his head the stranger knight espied, And saw that he, repentant, every thought Of that so frantic love had put aside, He reared himself, and said with semblance haught That which he would not say before, and cried: "Rinaldo, know that I am hight Disdain, Bound hither but to break thy worthless chain."

LXV So saying, suddenly he passed from sight; With him his horse: this in Rinaldo bred Much wonderment; and the astonished knight, "Where is he?" gazing round about him, said. He cannot guess if 'twere a magic sprite, A fiend by Malagigi thither sped, From those his ministers, to break the chain, Fettered whereby he lived so long in pain;

LXVI Of if an angel from the heavenly sphere In his ineffable goodness by the Lord, Dispatched, as to Tobias's aid whilere, A medicine for his blindness to afford. But good or evil angel -- whatsoe'er He was that him to liberty restored -- Him thanked and praised Rinaldo, for a heart Healed only by his help of amorous smart.

LXVII Old hate revived upon Rinaldo's side; Nor he alone unworthy to be wooed, The damsel deemed by pilgrimage so wide Her half a league he would not have pursued. Nathless anew Baiardo to bestride To Sericane would go that warrior good: As well because his honour him compelled, As for the talk which he with Charles had held.

LXVIII He pricked to Basle upon the following day, Whither the tidings had arrived before: That Count Orlando was, in martial fray, To meet Gradasso and the royal Moor: Nor through Orlando was divulged that say: But one, who crost from the Sicilian shore, And thither had, in haste, the journey made, As certain news, the tidings had conveyed.

LXIX Rinaldo had gladly been at Roland's side, And from that battle far himself doth see: Every ten miles he changes horse and guide, And whips and spurs, and makes his courser flee. He crost the Rhine at Constance, forward hied, He traversed Alp, arrived in Italy, He left Verona, Mantua, in his rear, And reached and past the Po, with swift career.

LXX Much towards eve already sloped the sun, And the first star was glimmering in the sky, When, doubting on the bank if he shall run Another course, or in some hostel lie Until the shades of night and vapours dun Before Aurora's beauteous visage fly, A cavalier approaching him he viewed, Who courtesy in face and semblance shewed.

LXXI He, after greeting him, if he were tied In wedlock, made in gentle wise demand. Rinaldo, wondering what the quest implied, Made answer: "I am bound in nuptial band." -- "I joy thereat," the cavalier replied; Then, that he might this saying understand, Added, "I pray that you, sir knight, within My mansion will this eve be pleased to inn.

LXXII "For I will make you see what must please A wight" (pursued the stranger) "that is wed." Rinaldo, as well that he would take his ease, -- But this, with so long posting sore bested -- As that to see and hear strange novelties By natural desire he still was led, His offer takes, and enters a new road, Following that cavalier to his abode.

LXXIII A bowshot from the way diverged the two, And a great palace fronting them descried: Whence squires with blazing lights (a numerous crew) Issued, and chased the darkness far and wide. Entering, his eyes around Rinaldo threw, And saw a place, whose like is seldom spied, Of beauteous fabric, and well ordered plan; Nor such huge cost befitted private man.

LXXIV Of serpentine and of hard porphyry are The stones which form the gateway's arch above. Of bronze the portal leaves, which figures bear, Whose lively features seem to breathe and move. Beneath the vaulted entry, colours rare Cheating the eye, in mixt mosaic strove, The quadrangle within was galleried, And of a hundred yards, on every side.

LXXV A gateway is there to each galleried row, And, twixt it and that gate, an arch is bent; Of equal breadth, but different in their show, For the architect had spared not ornament. Each arch an entrance was; up which might go A laden horse; so easy the ascent. To arch above leads every stair withal, And every arch is entrance to a hall.

LXXVI Above, project the arches in such sort, They for the spacious portals form a shade; And each two pillars has for its support: Of bronze are some, and some of marble made. The ornamented chambers of the court Too many are to be at length displayed; With easements, which (beside what is in sight) The skilful master underground had dight.

LXXVII Tall columns, with their capitals of gold, Which gemmed entablatures support in air; Exotic marbles engraved with figures fair; Picture and cast, and works so manifold, Albeit by night they mostly hidden were, Showed that two kings' united treasure ne'er Would have sufficed such gorgeous pile to rear.

LXXVIII Above the beauteous ornaments and rich That mingled in that gay quadrangle meet, There is a fresh and plenteous fountain, which Scatters in many threads its watery sheet, 'Tis here that youths at equal distance pitch, I' the middle, tables for the festive treat. Whence they four gates of that rich mansion see, And seen from those four gates as well may be.

LXXIX By cunning master, diligent and wise, With much and subtle toil, the fount was made: In open gallery or pavilion's guise; Which from eight separate fronts, projects a shade. A gilded roof, which with enamelled dyes Was stained below, the building overlayed. Eight marble statues (snowy was the grain), With the left arm that gilded roof sustain.

LXXX Fair Amalthaea's horn in the right hand Had quaintly sculptured the ingenious master, Whence water, trickling forth with murmur bland, Descends into a vase of alabaster; And he, in likeness of a lady grand, With sovereign art had fashioned each pilaster. Various they were in visage and in vest, But all of equal charms and grace possest.

LXXXI Upon two beauteous images below Each of these female statues fix their feet. The lower seem with open mouth to show That song and harmony to them are sweet; And, by their attitude, 'twould seem, as though Their every work and every study meet In praising them, they on their shoulders bear, As they would those whose likenesses they wear.

LXXXII The images below them in their hand Long scrolls and of an ample size contain, Which of the worthiest figures of that band The several names with mickle praise explain As well their own at little distance stand, Inscribed upon that scroll, in letters plain, Rinaldo, by the help of blazing lights, Marked, one by one, the ladies and their knights.

LXXXIII The first inscription there which meets the eye Recites at length Lucretia Borgia's fame, Whom Rome should place, for charms and chastity, Above that wife who whilom bore her name. Strozza and Tebaldeo -- Anthony And Hercules -- support the honoured dame: (So says the scroll): for tuneful strain, the pair A very Linus and an Orpheus are.

LXXXIV A statue no less jocund, no less bright, Succeeds, and on the writing is impressed; Lo! Hercules' daughter, Isabella hight, In whom Ferrara deems her city blest, Much more because she first shall see the light Within its circuit, than for all the rest Which kind and favouring Fortune in the flow Of rolling years, shall on that town bestow.

LXXXV The pair that such desirous ardour shew That aye her praises should be widely blown: John James alike are named: of those fair two, One is Calandra, one is Bardelon. In the third place, and fourth, where trickling through Small rills, the water quits that octagon, Two ladies are there, equal in their birth, Equal in country, honour, charms and worth.

LXXXVI One was Elizabeth, one Eleanor, And if we credit what that marble said, Manto's so glorious city which such store Sets my melodious Maro, whom she bred, More vaunts not him, nor reverences more, Than these fair dames her poet's honoured head. The first of these her hallowed feet had set On Peter Bembo and James Sadolet.

LXXXVII Arelio and Castiglion, a polished pair, That other lady, in mid air, sustain. Their names were carved upon the marble fair, Then both unknown, and now so fames a twain. Next was a lady, that from Heaven shall heir As mighty virtue as on earth doth reign, Or ever yet hath reigned, in any age, Well proved by Fortune in her love or rage.

LXXXVIII Inscribed in characters of gold is here Lucretia Bentivoglia, and among Her praises, 'tis declared Ferrara's peer Joys that such daughter doth to him belong. Her shall Camillus voice, and far and near Reno and Felsina shall hear his song, Wrapt in as mighty wonder at the strain As that wherewith Amphrysus heard his swain;

LXXXIX And one, through whom that city's name (where sweet Isaurus salts his wave in larger vase) Fame shall from Africa to Ind repeat, From southern tracts to Hyperborean ways, More than because Rome's gold in that famed seat Was weighed, whereof perpetual record says Guy Posthumus -- about whose honoured brow Phoebus and Pallas bind a double bough.

XC Dian is next in order of that train. "Regard not (said the marble) is she wear A haughty port; for in her heart, humane The matron is, as in her visage, fair. Learned Celio Calcagnine in lofty strain Her glories and fair name abroad shall bear, And Juba's and Moneses' kingdom hear, And Spain and farthest Ind, his trumpet clear;

XCI And a Cavallo shall make such a font Of poetry in famed Ancona run, As that winged courser on Parnassus' mount; Or was it on the hill of Helicon? 'Tis Beatrice, who next uprears her front, Whereof so speaks the writing on the stone: "Her consort Beatrice, while she has breath, Blesses, and leaves unhappy at her death;

XCII "Yea, Italy; that with her triumphs bright, Without that lady fair shall captive be." A lofty song appears of her to indite A lord of the Correggio's noble tree; And, Benedeo's pride, Timotheus hight. Between his banks, descending to the sea, By their joint music shall the stream be stopt, Whose trees erewhile the liquid amber dropt.

XCIII Between this and that lofty column's place Into fair Borgia fashioned (as was said) Of aspect so distinguished, of such grace, A lady was, of alabaster made, That, hiding in a simple veil her face, In sable, without gems or gold arraid, She, 'mid the brightest, flung her light as far, As amid lesser fires the Cyprian star.

XCIV None knows, observing her with steadfast view, If she of charms or grace have fuller store, Whether her visage most majestic shew, Or beam with genius or with beauty more. "He that would speak -- would speak her praises true -- (Declares in fine the sculptured marble's lore) The fairest of emprizes would intend, But never bring his noble task to end."

XCV Albeit such grace and passing sweetness shewed Her fair and well wrought image, she disdain Appeared to nurse, that one of wit so rude Should dare to sing her praise in humble strain, As he that only without comrade stood, I know not why, her statue to sustain, The marble all those other names revealed. That pair's alone the artist had concealed.

XCVI The statues in the middle form a round, The floor whereof dry stalks of coral pave; Most pleasant, cool, and grateful, is that ground; So rendered by the pure and crystal wave. Which vent without in other channel found; And issued forth in many a stream, to lave A mead of azure, white, and yellow hue; Gladdening the plants that on their margins grew.

XCVII Conversing with his courteous host, the peer Sate at the board, and oft and often prayed, That without more delay the cavalier Would keep the promise he whilere had made; And marking, ever and anon, his cheer, Observes his heart with some deep woe downweighed. For not a moment 'mid their converse slips, But what a burning sigh is on his lips.

XCVIII Oft with desire was good Rinaldo stung To ask that sorrow's cause, and the request Was almost on the gentle warrior's tongue, And there by courteous modesty represt. Now at their banquet's close a youth, among The menial crew, on whom that charge did rest, Placed a gold cup before the paladin, Filled full of gems without, of wine within.

XCIX The host then somedeal smiling, from the board Looked up at Aymon's son; but who this while Well marked him, as he eyed Montalban's lord, Had deemed him more disposed to weep than smile. "So oft reminded, to maintain my word, 'Tis time meseems (said he, that owned the pile) To shew the touchstone for a woman's love, Which needs to wedded man must welcome prove.

C "Ne'er, in my judgment, should the married dame Be from espial by her lord released; Thus shall he know if honour or if blame His portion is; if he is man or beast. The weight of horns, though coupled with such shame, Is of all burdens upon the earth the least. While well-nigh all behold his antlers spread, He feels them not who has them on his head.

CI "If certain of thy wife's fidelity, Thou hast more ground to prize and hold her dear Than one, whose wife is evil known to be, Or husband that is still in doubt and fear. Full many husbands live in jealousy, And groundlessly, of women chaste and clear. On many women many men rely Meanwhile, who bear their branching antlers high.

CII "If thou would'st be assured thy wife is true (As sure methinks thou thinkest and must think) For it is hard that notion to undo, Unless thy trust before sure tokens sink, -- No hearsay matter this -- thyself shalt view The truth, if thou in this fair vessel drink, Placed solely on the supper-board, that thou May'st see the marvel promised thee but now.

CIII "Drink, and a mighty marvel shall be seen; For if thou wearest Cornwall's lofty crest, No drop of wine shall pass thy lips between, And all the draught be spilt upon thy breast. If faithful is thy wife, thou shalt drink clean. And now -- to try thy fortune -- to the test!" He said, and with fixt eyes the sign explored; If on his breast the wine Rinaldo poured.

CIV Rinaldo was nigh moved the cup to raise, And seek what he would haply wish unsought: Forward he reached his hand and took the vase, About to prove his fortune in the draught. Then of the passing peril of the case, Before it touched his lips, the warrior thought. But let me, sir, repose myself, and I Will then relate the Paladin's reply.