Canto 18…

Canto 18

ARGUMENT Gryphon is venged. Sir Mandricardo goes In search of Argier's king. Charles wins the fight. Marphisa Norandino's men o'erthrows. Due pains Martano's cowardice requite. A favouring wind Marphisa's gallery blows, For France with Gryphon bound and many a knight. The field Medoro and Cloridano tread, And find their monarch Dardinello dead.

I High minded lord! your actions evermore I have with reason lauded, and still laud; Though I with style inapt, and rustic lore, You of large portion of your praise defraud: But, of your many virtues, one before All others I with heart and tongue applaud, -- That, if each man a gracious audience finds, No easy faith your equal judgment blinds.

II Often, to shield the absent one from blame, I hear you this, or other, thing adduce; Or him you let, at least, an audience claim, Where still one ear is open to excuse: And before dooming men to scaith and shame, To see and hear them ever is your use; And ere you judge another, many a day, And month, and year, your sentence to delay.

III Had Norandine been with your care endued, What he by Gryphon did, he had not done. Profit and fame have from your rule accrued: A stain more black than pitch he cast upon His name: through him, his people were pursued And put to death by Olivero's son; Who at ten cuts or thrusts, in fury made, Some thirty dead about the waggon laid.

IV Whither fear drives, in rout, the others all, Some scattered here, some there, on every side, Fill road and field; to gain the city-wall Some strive, and smothered in the mighty tide, One on another, in the gateway fall. Gryphon, all thought of pity laid aside, Threats not nor speaks, but whirls his sword about, Well venging on the crowd their every flout.

V Of those who to the portal foremost fleed, The readiest of the crowd their feet to ply, Part, more intent upon their proper need Than their friends' peril, raise the draw-bridge high: Part, weeping and with deathlike visage, speed, Nor turn their eyes behind them as they fly: While, through the ample city, outcry loud, And noise, and tumult rises from the crowd.

VI Two nimble Gryphon seizes, mid the train, When to their woe the bridge is raised; of one, Upon the field the warrior strews the brain, Which he bears out on a hard grinding stone; Seized by the breast, the other of the twain Over the city-wall by him is thrown, Fear chills the townsmen's marrow, when they spy The luckless wretch descending from the sky.

VII Many there were who feared in their alarms, Lest o'er the wall Sir Gryphon would have vaulted; Nor greater panic seized upon those swarms, Than if the soldan had the town assaulted. The sound of running up and down, of arms, Of cry of Muezzins, on high exalted; Of drums and trumpets, heaven, 'twould seem, rebounded, And, that the world was by the noise confounded.

VIII But I will to another time delay, What chanced on this occasion, to recount. 'Tis meet I follow Charles upon his way, Hurrying in search of furious Rodomont, Who did the monarch's suffering people slay. I said, with him, the danger to affront, Went Namus, Oliver, the Danish peer, Avino, Avolio, Otho and Berlinghier.

IX Eight lances' shock, that eight such warriors guide, Which all at once against the king they rest, Endured the stout and scaly serpent's hide, In which the cruel Moor his limbs had drest. As a barque rights itself, -- the sheet untied, Which held its sail, -- by growing wind opprest; So speedily Sir Rodomont arose, Though a hill had been uprooted by the blows.

X Rainier and Guido, Richard, Salomon, Ivan, Ughetto, Turpin, and the twain -- Angiolin, Angelier -- false Ganellon, And Mark and Matthew from St. Michael's plain, With the eight of whom I spake, all set upon The foe, with Edward and Sir Arimane; Who leading succours from the English shore, Had lodged them in the town short time before.

XI Not so, well-keyed into the solid stone, Groans upon Alpine height the castle good, When by rude Boreas' rage or Eurus' strown, Uptorn are ash and fir in mountain wood, As groans Sir Rodomont, with pride o'erblown, Inflamed with anger and with thirst of blood: And, as the thunder and the lightning's fire Fly coupled, such his vengeance and his ire.

XII He at his head took aim who stood most nigh; Ughetto was the miserable wight, Whom to the teeth he clove, and left to die; Though of good temper was his helmet bright. As well the others many strokes let fly At him, himself; which all the warrior smite, But harm (so hard the dragon's hide) no more, Than needle can the solid anvil score.

XIII All the defences, round, abandoned are, The unpeopled city is abandoned all; For, where the danger is the greater, there The many give their aid, at Charles' call: Through every street they hurry to the square, Since flying nought avails, from work and wall. Their bosoms so the monarch's presence warms, That each again takes courage, each takes arms.

XIV As when within the closely-fastened cage Of an old lioness, well used to fight, An untamed bull is prisoned, to engage The savage monster, for the mob's delight; The cubs, who see him cresting in his rage, And round the den loud-bellowing, to the sight Of the huge beast's enormous horns unused, Cower at a distance, timid and confused;

XV But if the mother spring at him, and hang, Fixing her cruel tusks into his ear, Her whelps as well will blood their greedy fang, And, bold in her defence, assail the steer: One bites his paunch, and one his back: so sprang That band upon the paynim cavalier. From roof and window, and from place more nigh, Poured in a ceaseless shower, the weapons fly.

XVI Of cavaliers and footmen such the squeeze, That hardly can the place the press contain: They cluster there as thick as swarming bees, Who thither from each passage troop amain. So that, were they unarmed, and with more ease Than stalks or turnips he could cleave the train, Ill Rodomont in twenty days would clear The gathering crowd, united far and near.

XVII Unknowing how himself from thence to free, The paynim by this game is angered sore, Who little thins the gathering rabblery, Staining the ground with thousands slain or more; And all the while, in his extremity, Finds that his breath comes thicker than before; And sees he cannot pierce the hostile round, Unless he thence escape while strong and sound.

XVIII The monarch rolls about his horrid eyes, And sees that foes all outlets barricade; But, at the cost of countless enemies, A path shall quickly by his hand be made. Where Fury calls him, lo! the felon hies, And brandishes on high his trenchant blade, To assail the newly entered British band, Which Edward and Sir Ariman command.

XIX He who has seen the fence, in well-thonged square, (Against whose stakes the eddying crowd is born) By wild bull broken, that has had to bear, Through the long day, dogs, blows, and ceaseless scorn; Who hunts the scattered people here and there, And this, or that, now hoists upon his horn; Let him as such, or fiercer yet, account, When he breaks forth, the cruel Rodomont.

XX At one cross-blow fifteen or twenty foes He hews, as many leaves without a bead, At cross or downright-stroke; as if he rows Trashes in vineyard or in willow-bed, At last all smeared with blood the paynim goes, Safe from the place, which he has heaped with dead; And wheresoe'er he turns his steps, are left Heads, arms, and other members, maimed and cleft.

XXI He from the square retires in such a mode, None can perceive that danger him appals; But, during this, what were the safest road, By which to sally, he to thought recals. He comes at last to where the river flowed Below the isle, and past without the walls. In daring men at arms and mob increase, Who press him sore, nor let him part in peace.

XXII As the high-couraged beast, whom hunters start In the wild Nomade or Massilian chace, Who, even in flying, shows his noble heart, And threatening seeks his lair with sluggish pace; From that strange wood of sword, and spear, and dart, Turns Rodomont, with action nothing base; And still impeded by the galling foe, Makes for the river with long steps and slow.

XXIII He turned upon the rabble-rout who bayed Behind him, thrice or more, by anger driven, And stained anew his falchion, by whose blade More than a hundred deadly wounds were given. But reason, finally, his fury stayed Before the bloody carnage stank to heaven; And he, with better counsel, from the side Cast himself down into Seine's foaming tide.

XXIV Athwart the current swam, with arms and all, As if by corks upborn, the cavalier. Though thou Antaeus bred'st, and Hannibal, O Africa! thou never bred'st his peer! -- When now across the stream, without the wall, He turned, and saw the royal town appear, -- To have traversed all the city moved his ire, Leaving it undestroyed by sword or fire;

XXV And him so sorely anger stung and pride, Thither he thought a second time to go; And from his inmost bosom groaned and sighed, Nor would depart until he laid it low. But he saw one along the river-side Approach, who made him rage and hate forego; Strait shall you hear who 'twas, approached the king, But first I have to say of other thing.

XXVI I have of haughty Discord now to say, To whom the archangel Michael gave command, To heat to enmity and fierce affray The best of Agramant's besieging band. She went that evening from the abbey gray, Her task committing to another's hand; -- Left it to Fraud to feed, till her return, The war, and make the fires she kindled burn;

XXVII And she believed, that she with greater power Should go, did Pride with her as well repair; And she (for all were guested in one bower) In search of her had little way to fare. Pride went with her; but, that in hall or tower, A vicar too her charge might duly bear, She for those days she absent thought to be, For her lieutenant left Hypocrisy.

XXVIII The implacable Discord went, and with the dame, (Companion of the enterprise, was Pride) Upon her road; and found that, by the same, Was journeying to the paynim camp, beside, Comfortless Jealousy, with whom there came A little dwarf, attending as a guide; Who erst had been sent forward with advice To Sarza's king, by beauteous Doralice.

XXIX When she fell into Mandricardo's hand, (I have before recounted when and where) She had in secret given the dwarf command, He to the king should with the tidings fare; By whom she hoped not vainly would be scanned The tale her messenger was charged to bear, But wonderous deeds be done for her relief, With sad and signal vengeance on the thief.

XXX Jealousy had that little dwarf espied, And kenned the reason of his mission too, And joined him, journeying with him side by side, Deeming that she therein a part might do. Discord, with pleasure, Jealousy decried, But with more joy, when she the occasion knew Which thither brought the dame, who much (she wist) Might in the task she had in hand assist.

XXXI Of means to embroil the Sarzan and the son Of Agrican, she deems herself possest. A certain mode to enrage these two is won; And other means may work upon the rest. She thither with the dwarfish page is gone, Where the fierce Pagan in his clutch had prest Proud Paris, and they reached the river strand, Exactly as the felon swam to land.

XXXII As soon as the redoubted Rodomont Knew in the dwarf the courier of his dame, He all his rage extinguished, cleared his front, And felt his courage brighten into flame. All else he deems the courier may recount, Save that a wight had wrought him scaith and shame, And cries (encountering him with chearful brow) "How fares our lady? wither sent art thou?"

XXXIII "Nor mine nor thine that lady will I say, Who is another's thrall," the dwarf replied. "We, on our road, encountered yesterday A knight, who seized and bore away the bride." Jealousy, upon this, took up the play, And, cold as asp, embraced the king: her guide Pursued his tale, relating how the train, Their mistress taken, by one man were slain.

XXXIV Her flint and steel, fell Discord, as he said, Took forth, and somewhile hammered on the stone. Pride, underneath, the ready tinder spread, And the quick fire was in a moment blown: This on the paynim's soul so fiercely fed, He could not find a resting place: 'mid groan And sob he storms, with horrid face and eye, Which threat the elements and ample sky.

XXXV As tiger rages, who in vain descends Into her den, and finds herself alone, And, circling all the cavern, comprehends, At last, that her beloved young are gone; To ire, to rage like hers his wrath extends: Nor night the king regards, nor rock, nor stone, Nor stream: -- Nor length of way nor storm arrest The speed with which he on the plunderer prest.

XXXVI So raging, to the pigmy dwarf who bore The news, exclaimed the king, "Now hence away!" Nor horse he waits, nor carriage, nor, before Departing, deigns to his a word to say. He hurries with such speed, that not with more The lizard darts at noon across the way. Horse had he none, but be he whose he might, Would make his own the first which came in sight.

XXXVII Discord at this, who read his secret thought, Exclaimed, as she looked smilingly on Pride, Through her he to a courser should be brought, By which new cause of strife should be supplied; And, that by him no other might be caught, She from his path would keep all steeds beside; And knew already where the prize to seek. -- But her I leave, again of Charles to speak.

XXXVIII When, on the Saracen's departure, spent, About King Charles, was the consuming flame, He ranged his troops anew: some warriors went To strengthen feeble posts which succours claim; The rest against the Saracens are sent, To give the foe checkmate and end the game; And from St. German's to Saint Victor's gates, He pours the host, which on his signal waits.

XXXIX He these at Saint Marcellus' gate, where lay, Outstretched a large circumference of plain, Bade one another wait, in one array, To reunite against the paynim train. Inflaming every one to smite and slay, In guise, that for a record should remain, He made the various troops fall in below Their banners, and the battle-signal blow.

XL Agramant has remounted in his sell, While this is doing in his foe's despite, And with the stripling who loved Isabel, Is waging perilous and fearful fight. Lurcanio with Sobrino strives as well; Rinaldo a troop encounters, whom the knight, With Valour and with Fortune for his guide, Charges, and breaks, and routs on every side.

XLI While so the battle stands, king Charlemagne Falls on the rear guard of the paynim foe, Where bold Marsilius halts the flower of Spain, And forms the host, his royal flag below. On these king Charlemagne impels his train, Who, foot with horse to flank, against them go. While so the deafening drum and trumpet sounds, 'Twould seem the spacious world the din rebounds.

XLII The Saracenic squadrons had begun To bend, and all the army of the Moor Had turned, disordered, broken, and undone, Never to be arrayed or rallied more, But that Grandonio stood, and Falsiron, Tried oftentimes in greater ill before, With Serpentine and Balugantes proud, And the renowned Ferrau, who cried aloud:

XLIII "O valiant men," he -- "O companions," cries, "O brethren, stand, and yet your place maintain; Like cobweb-threads our cruel enemies Will find their works, if we our part sustain. What this day Fortune offers to our eyes, If now we conquer, see the praise, the gain! -- If conquered, see the utter loss and shame Which will for ever wait upon your name!"

XLIV He in this time a mighty lance had spanned, And spurred at once against Sir Berlinghier, Who Argaliffa guided with his hand, And broke his helmet's frontal with the spear, Cast him on earth, and with the cruel brand Unhorsed perhaps eight other warriors near. His mighty strokes discharging, at each blow, He ever laid at least one horseman low.

XLV In other part, Rinaldo, in his mood, Has slain more enemies than I can say, Before the warlike knight no order stood; You might have seen the ample camp give way. No less Zerbino and Lurcanio good Do deeds, which will be told in every day; This, with a thrust, has bold Balastro slain, That Finaduro's helm has cleft in twain.

XLVI The first was of the Alzerban army head, Ruled by Tardocco some short time before; The other one the valiant squadrons led Of Saphi, and Morocco, and Zamor. "Where, 'mid the paynims," might to me be said, "Is knight whose sword can cleave or lance can gore?" But step by step I go, and as I wind My way, leave none who merits praise behind.

XLVII Zumara's king is not forgotten here, Dardinel, who Sir Dulphin of the mount, Claude of the wood, and Hubert, with the spear, (Of Mirford he) and Elio did dismount, And, with the faulchion, Stamford's cavalier, Sir Anselm, Raymond and Sir Pinnamont From London-town; though valiant were the twain; Two stunned, one wounded, the four others slain.

XLVIII Yet will his squadron not so firmly stand, Maugre the valour which his deeds display, So firmly, as to wait the Christian band, In number less, but steadier in array, More used to joust and manage of the brand, And all things appertaining to the gray. Setta and Morocco turned, and, seized with dread, Zumara and Canaries' islesmen fled.

XLIX But faster than the rest Alzerba flies, Whom Dardinel opposed, and now with sore Reproach, and now with prayer he moves, and tries What best he deems their courage may restore. "If good Almontes has deserved," he cries, "That you should by his memory set such store, Now shall be seen -- be seen, if you will me, His son, abandon in such jeopardy.

L "For sake of my green youth, I pray you stand, That youth whereon your hopes were wont to feed, And suffer not that, scattered by the brand, To Africa be lost our noble seed. Save you united go, be sure the land Is shut against you, wheresoe'er you speed. Too high a wall to climb is mountain-steep, The yawning sea a ditch too wide to leap.

LI "Far better 'tis to perish than to be Torn by these dogs, or lie at their control. Since vain is every other remedy, Wait, friends, for love of Heaven, the advancing shoal: They are not gifted with more lives than we; Have but one pair of hands, have but one soul." So saying, the bold youth, amid the crew Of enemies, the Earl of Huntley slew.

LII Almontes' memory, through the Moorish bands, Makes every bosom with such ardour glow, They deem 'tis better to use arms and hands In fight, than turn their backs upon the foe. Taller than all William of Burnwich stands, An Englishman, whom Dardinel brings low, And equals with the rest; then smites upon, And cleaves, the head of Cornish Aramon.

LIII Down fell this Aramon, and to afford Him succour, thitherward his brother made; But from the shoulder him Zumara's lord Cleft to the fork, with his descending blade; Next Bogio de Vergalla's belly gored, And from his debt absolved (the forfeit paid) Who to return within six months, if life Were granted him, had promised to his wife.

LIV Lurcanio next met Dardinello's eye; He upon earth Dorchino had laid low, Pierced through the throat, and hapless Gardo nigh Cleft to the teeth; at him, as all too slow, He from Altheus vainly seeks to fly, Whom as his heart Lurcanio loves, a blow Upon his head behind the Scotchman speeds; And. slaughtered by the stroke, the warrior bleeds.

LV Dardinel, to avenge him, took a spear, And, should he lay the fierce Lurcanio dead, Vowed to his Mahomet, if he could hear, The mosque should have his empty arms; this said, Ranging the field in haste, that cavalier He in the flank, with thrust so full and dread, Encountered, that it went through either side: And he to his to strip the baron cried.

LVI From me it sure were needless to demand, If Ariodantes, when his brother fell, Was grieved; if he with his avenging hand Among the damned would send Sir Dardinell; But all access the circling troops withstand And bar, no less baptized than infidel: Yet would he venge himself, and with his blade, Now here, now there, an open passage made.

LVII He charges, chases, breaks, and overthrows Whoever cross him on the crowded plain; And Dardinello, who his object knows, Would fain the wish content; but him the train Impedes as well, which round about him flows, And renders aye his every purpose vain. If one on all sides thins the Moorish rank, The other slays Scot, Englishman, and Frank.

LVIII Fortune still blocked their path throughout the day, So that they met not, 'mid that chivalry, And kept one as a mightier champion's prey; For rarely man escapes his destiny. Behold the good Rinaldo turns that way! That, for this one no refuge there might be. Lo! good Rinaldo comes: him Fortune guides, And for his sword King Dardinel provides.

LIX But here enough for this one while is shown Of their illustrious doings in the west; 'Tis time I seek Sir Gryphon, and make known How he, with fury burning in his breast, That rabble-rout had broke and overthrown, Struck with more fear than ever men possest. Thither speeds Norandine on that alarm, And for his guard above a thousand arm.

LX King Norandine, girt with peer and knight, Seeing on every side the people fly, Rides to the gates, with squadron duly dight, And at his hest the portals open fly. Meanwhile Sir Gryphon, having put to flight The weak and worthless rabble far and nigh, The scorned arms (to keep him from that train), Such as they were, took up and donned again.

LXI And nigh a temple strongly walled, and round Whose base a moat for its protection goes, Upon a little bridge takes up his ground, That him his enemies may not enclose. Lo! loudly shouting, and with threatening sound, A mighty squadron through the gateway flows. The valiant Gryphon changes not his place, And shows how small his fear by act and face.

LXII But when, approaching near, he saw the band, He sallied forth to meet them by the way; And wielding still his sword in either hand, Made cruel havoc in the close array. Then on the narrow bridge resumed his stand, Nor there his hunters only held at bay: Anew he sallied, and returned anew, Aye leaving bloody signs when he withdrew.

LXIII Fore-stroke and back he deals, and on the ground Horsemen and foot o'erthrows on every side: This while the ample mob the knight surround, And more and more the warfare rages wide. At length Sir Gryphon fears he shall be drowned, (So waxed their numbers) in the increasing tide; And hurt in the left shoulder, through his mail, And thigh, his wind as well begins to fail.

LXIV But Valour, who so oft befriends her own, Makes him find grace in Norandino's eyes; Who, while alarmed, he hurries there, o'erthrown So many men, such heaps of dead espies, While he views wounds, which Hector's hand alone He weens could deal, -- to him all testifies That he had put an undeserved shame Upon a cavalier of mighty name.

LXV Next seeing him more near, whose falchion's sweep Had dealt such deaths amid his chivalry, And raised about himself that horrid heap, And stained the water with that bloody dye, He thought that he beheld Horatius keep, Singly, the bridge against all Tuscany; And vext, and anxious to remove the stain, Recalled his men, and that with little pain.

LXVI And, lifting his bare hand, in sign affied, From ancient times, of treaty and of truce, Repenting him, he to Sir Gryphon cried, "It grieves me sorely, and I cannot choose But own my sin: let counsels which misguide, And my own little wit, such fault excuse. What by the vilest knight I thought to do, I to the best on earth have done in you.

LXVII "And though the bitter injuries and shame That have to thee through ignorance been done, Are equalled, and all cancelled by thy fame, And merged, in truth, in glory thou hast won; Whatever satisfaction thou canst claim, Within my power or knowledge, count upon, When I know how atonement may be made, By city, castle, or by money paid.

LXVIII "Demand of me this kingdom's moiety, And from this day thou its possessor art, Since not alone thy worth deserves this fee, But merits, I with this should give my heart; Then, pledge of faith and lasting love, to me, In the meanwhile, thy friendly hand impart." So saying, from his horse the king descended, And towards Gryphon his right-hand extended.

LXIX When he beheld the monarch's altered cheer, Who bent to clasp his neck, towards him paced, His sword and rancour laid aside, the peer Him humbly underneath the hips embraced. King Norandine, who saw the sanguine smear Of his two wounds, bade seek a leech in haste; And bade them softly with the knight resort Towards the town, and lodge him in his court.

LXX Here, wounded, he remained some days before He could bear arms: but him, in the design Of seeking out Sir Aquilant once more, And good Astolpho, left in Palestine, I quit; they vainly did his path explore, After Sir Gryphon left the holy shrine, Through Solyma in every place of note, And many, from the Holy Land remote.

LXXI One and the other are alike to seek In the inquiry where the knight may use; But they encounter with the pilgrim-Greek, Who of false Origilla gives them news; Relating, as of her he haps to speak, That towards Antioch she her way pursues, By a new leman of that city charmed, Who her with fierce and sudden flame had warmed.

LXXII Aquilant asked him, if he had possest Sir Gryphon of the news to them conveyed, Who, hearing that he had, surmised the rest, -- Where he was gone, and by what motive swayed: He followed Origille, was manifest, And had in quest of her for Antioch made, To take her from his rival, and with view On him some memorable scathe to do.

LXXIII Aquilant brooked not Gryphon such a feat, Without him, and alone, should thus assay, And took his armour and pursued his beat; But first besought the duke he would delay To visit France and his paternal seat, Till he from Antioch measured back his way. At Joppa he embarks, who deems by sea The better and securer way to be.

LXXIV From the south-east up-sprung so strong a breeze, And which for Gryphon's galley blew so right, That the third day he Tyre's famed city sees, And lesser Joppa quick succeeds to sight. By Zibellotto and Baruti flees, (Cyprus to larboard left) the galley light; From Tripoli to Tortosa shapes her way, And so to Lizza and Lajazzo's bay.

LXXV From thence, towards the east the pilot veered Her ready tiller, prompt his course to scan; And straightway for the wide Orontes steered, And watched his time, and for the harbour ran. Aquilant, when his bark the margin neared, Bade lower the bridge, and issued, horse and man, It armour, and along the river wended, Up-stream, till he his way at Antioch ended.

LXXVI To inform himself of that Martano bent; And heard that he to Antioch was addrest, With Origilla, where a tournament Was to be solemnized by royal hest. To track whom Aquilant was so intent, Assured that Gryphon had pursued his quest, He Antioch left again that very day, But not by sea again would take his way.

LXXVII He towards Lidia and Larissa goes, -- At rich Aleppo makes a longer stay. God, to make plain that he, even here, bestows On evil and on good their fitting pay, At a league's distance from Mamuga, throws Martano in the avenging brother's way, Martano travelling with the tourney's prize, Displayed before his horse in showy wise.

LXXVIII Sir Aquilant believed, at the first show, His brother he in vile Martano spied. For arms and vest, more white than virgin snow, The coward in the warrior's sight belied, And sprang towards him, with that joyful "Oh!" By which delight is ever signified; But changed his look and tone, when, nearer brought He sees that he is not the wight he sought:

LXXIX And through that evil woman's treachery, Deemed Gryphon murdered by the cavalier; And, "Tell me," he exclaimed, "thou, who must be Traitor and thief -- both written in thy cheer -- Whence are these arms? and wherefore do I thee View on the courser of my brother dear? Say is my brother slaughtered or alive? How didst thou him of horse and arms deprive?"

LXXX When Origille hears him, in affright She turns her palfrey, and for flight prepares: But Aquilant, more quick, in her despite, Arrests the traitress, ere she further fares. At the loud threats of that all furious knight, By whom he so was taken unawares, Martan' turns pale and trembles like a leaf, Nor how to act or answer knows the thief.

LXXXI Aquilant thundered still, and, to his dread, A falchion, pointed at his gullet, shewed, And swore with angry menaces, the head From him and Origille should be hewed, Save in all points the very truth be said. Awhile on this ill-starred Martano chewed, Revolving still what pretext he might try To lessen his grave fault, then made reply:

LXXXII "Know, sir, you see my sister in this dame, And one of good and virtuous parents born, Though she has lately led a life of shame, And been by Gryphon foully brought to scorn; And, for I loathed such blot upon our name, Yet weened that she could ill by force be torn From such a puissant wight, I laid a scheme Her by address and cunning to redeem.

LXXXIII "With her I planned the means, who in her breast Nursed the desire a better life to prove, That she, when Gryphon was retired to rest, In silence from the warrior should remove. This done: lest he should follow on our quest, And so undo the web we vainly wove, Him we deprived of horse and arm, and we Are hither come together, as you see."

LXXXIV His cunning might have proved of good avail, For Aquilant believed him easily; And, save in taking Gryphon's horse and mail, He to the knight had done no injury; But that he wrought so high the specious tale, As manifested plainly, 'twas a lie. In all 'twas perfect, save that he the dame Had for his sister vouched with whom he came.

LXXXV Aquilant had in Antioch chanced to know She was his concubine, -- well certified Of this by many, -- and in furious glow Exclaimed; "Thou falsest robber, thou hast lied!" And dealt, with that, the recreant such a blow, He drove two grinders down his throat; then tied (Not sought Martano with his foe to cope) The caitiff's arms behind him with a rope.

LXXXVI And, though she for excuse tried many wiles, Did thus as well by Origille untrue; And till he reached Damascus' lofty piles, Them by town, street, or farm, behind him drew: And will a thousand times a thousand miles, With sorrow and with suffering, drag the two, Till he his brother find; who, at his pleasure, May vengeance to the guilty couple measure.

LXXXVII Sir Aquilant made squires and beasts as well Return with him, and to Damascus came; And heard Renown, throughout the city, swell, Plying her ample wings, Sir Gryphon's name. Here, great and little -- every one, could tell 'Twas he that in the tourney won such fame, And had, by one that ill deserved his trust, Been cheated of the honours of the just.

LXXXVIII Pointing him out to one another's sight, The hostile people all Martano bayed; "And is not this (they cried) that ribald wight Who in another's spoils himself arrayed, And who the valour of a sleeping knight, With his own shame and infamy o'erlaid? And this the woman of ungrateful mood, Who aids the wicked and betrays the good?"

LXXXIX Others exclaimed, "How fittingly combined, Marked with one stamp, and of one race are they!" Some loudly cursed them, and some raved behind, While others shouted, "Hang, burn, quarter, slay!" The throng to view them prest, with fury blind, And to the square before them made its way. The monarch of the tidings was advised, And these above another kingdom prized.

XC Attended with few squires the Syrian king, As then he chanced to be, came forth with speed, And with Sir Aquilant encountering, Who Gryphon had avenged with worthy deed, Him honoured with fair cheer, and home would bring, And in his palace lodged, as fitting meed; Having the prisoned pair, with his consent, First in the bottom of a turret pent.

XCI Thither they go, where Gryphon from his bed Has not as yet, since he was wounded, stirred; Who at his brother's coming waxes red, Surmising well he of his case has heard: And after Aquilant his say had said, And him somedeal reproached, the three conferred As to what penance to the wicked two, So fallen into their hands, was justly due.

XCII 'Tis Aquilant's, 'tis Norandino's will A thousand tortures shall their guerdon be: But Gryphon, who the dame alone can ill Excuse, entreats for both impunity; And many matters urges with much skill. But well is answered: and 'tis ruled, to flea Martano's body with the hangman's scourge, And only short of death his penance urge.

XCIII Bound is the wretch, but not 'mid grass and flower, Whose limbs beneath the hangman's lashes burn All the next morn: they prison in the tower Origille, till Lucina shall return; To whom the counselling lords reserve the power To speak the woman's sentence, mild or stern. Harboured, till Gryphon can bear arms, at court, Aquilant fleets the time in fair disport.

XCIV The valiant Norandino could not choose (Made by such error temperate and wise), But full of penitence and sorrow, muse, With downcast spirit, and in mournful guise, On having bid his men a knight misuse, Whom all should worthily reward and prize; So that he, night and morning, in his thought, How to content the injured warrior sought.

XCV And he determined, in the public sight O' the city, guilty of that injury, With all such honour as to perfect knight Could by a puissant monarch rendered be, Him with the glorious guerdon to requite, Which had been ravished by such treachery: And hence, within a month, proclaimed the intent To hold another solemn tournament.

XCVI For which he made what stately preparation Was possible to make by sceptered king. Hence Fame divulged the royal proclamation Throughout all Syria's land, with nimble wing, Phoenicia and Palestine; till the relation Of this in good Astolpho's ears did ring; Who, with the lord who ruled that land in trust, Resolved he would be present at the just.

XCVII For a renowned and valiant cavalier Has the true history vaunted, Sansonnet, By Roland christened, Charles (I said), the peer Over the Holy Land as ruler set: He with the duke takes up his load, to steer Thither, where Rumour speaks the champions met. So that his ears, on all sides in the journey, Are filled with tidings of Damascus' tourney.

XCVIII Thither the twain their way those countries through, By easy stages and by slow, addrest, That fresh upon the day of joust the two Might in Damascus-town set up their rest. When at the meeting of cross-ways they view A person, who, in movement and in vest, Appears to be a man, but is a maid; And marvellously fierce, in martial raid.

XCIX Marphisa was the warlike virgin's name, And such her worth, she oft with naked brand Had pressed Orlando sore in martial game, And him who had Mount Alban in command; And ever, night and day, the armed dame Scowered, here and there, by hill and plain, the land; Hoping with errant cavalier to meet, And win immortal fame by glorious feat.

C When Sansonnetto and the English knight She sees approaching her, in warlike weed, Who seem two valiant warriors in her sight, As of large bone, and nerved for doughty deed, On them she fain would prove her martial might, And to defy the pair has moved her steed. When, eyeing the two warriors, now more near, Marphisa recognized the duke and peer.

CI His pleasing ways she did in mind retrace, When arms in far Catay with her he bore Called him by name, nor would in iron case; Retain her hand, upraised the casque she wore, And him, advanced, to meet with glad embrace, Though, of all living dames and those of yore, The proudest, she; nor with less courteous mien The paladin salutes the martial queen.

CII They questioned one another of their way; And when the duke has said (who first replied) That he Damascus seeks, where to assay Their virtuous deeds, all knights of valour tried The Syrian king invites, in martial play, -- The bold Marphisa, at his hearing cried, (Ever to prove her warlike prowess bent) "I will be with you at this tournament."

CIII To have such a comrade either cavalier Is much rejoiced. They to Damascus go, And in a suburb, of the city clear, Are lodged, upon the day before the show; And, till her aged lover, once so dear, Aurora roused, their humble roof below, In greater ease the weary warriors rested Than had they been in costly palace guested.

CIV And when the clear and lucid sun again Its shining glories all abroad had spread, The beauteous lady armed, and warriors twain, Having first couriers to the city sped, Who, when 'twas time, reported to the train, That, to see truncheons split in contest dread, King Norandine had come into the square In which the cruel games appointed were.

CV Straight to the city ride the martial band, And, through the high-street, to the crowded place; Where, waiting for the royal signal, stand, Ranged here and there, the knights of gentle race. The guerdons destined to the conqueror's hand, In that day's tourney, were a tuck and mace Richly adorned, and, with them, such a steed As to the winning lord were fitting meed.

CVI Norandine, sure that, in the martial game, Both prizes destined for the conquering knight, As well as one and the other tourney's fame, Must be obtained by Gryphon, named the white, To give him all that valiant man could claim, Nor could he give the warrior less, with right, The armour, guerdon of this final course Placed with the tuck and mace and noble horse.

CVII The arms which in the former joust the due Of valiant Gryphon were, who all had gained, (With evil profit, by the wretch untrue, Martan' usurped, who Gryphon's bearing feigned) To be hung up on high in public view With the rich-flourished tuck, the king ordained, And fastened at the saddle of the steed The mace, that Gryphon might win either meed.

CVIII But from effecting what he had intended He was prevented by the warlike maid; Who late into the crowded square had wended, With Sansonnet and England's duke arrayed, Seeing the arms of which I spoke suspended, She straight agnized the harness she surveyed, Once hers, and dear to her; as matters are Esteemed by us as excellent and rare;

CIX Though, as a hindrance, she upon the road Had left the arms, when, to retrieve her sword, She from her shoulders slipt the ponderous load, And chased Brunello, worthy of the cord. More to relate were labour ill bestowed, I deem, nor further of the tale record. Enough for me, by you 'tis understood, How here she found anew her armour good.

CX You shall take with you, when by manifest And certain tokens they by her were known, She, for no earthly thing, the iron vest And weapons for a day would have foregone. She thinks not if this mode or that be best To have them, anxious to regain her own; But t'wards the arms with hand extended hies, And without more regard takes down the prize.

CXI And throwing some on earth, it chanced that more Than was her own she in her hurry took. The Syrian king, who was offended sore, Raised war against her with a single look. For ill the wrong his angered people bore, And, to avenge him, lance and falchion shook; Remembering not, on other day, how dear They paid for scathing errant cavalier.

CXII No wishful child more joyfully, 'mid all The flowers of spring-tide, yellow, blue, and red, Finds itself, nor at concert or at ball Dame beauteous and adorned, than 'mid the tread Of warlike steeds, and din of arms, and fall Of darts, and push of spears. -- where blood is shed, And death is dealt, in the tumultuous throng, -- SHE finds herself beyond all credence strong.

CXIII She spurred her courser, and with lance in rest, Imperious at the foolish rabble made, And -- through the neck impaled or through the breast, -- Some pierced, some prostrate at the encounter layed. Next this or that she with the falchion prest; The head from one she severed with the blade, And from that other cleft: another sank, Short of right arm or left, or pierced in flank.

CXIV Bold Sansonnetto and Astolpho near, Who had, with her, their limbs in harness dight, Though they for other end in arms appear, Seeing the maid and crowd engaged in fight, First lower the helmet's vizor, next the spear, And with their lances charge the mob outright: Then bare their falchions, and, amid the crew, A passage with the trenchant weapons hew.

CXV The errant cavaliers who to that stage, To joust, from different lands had made resort, Seeing them warfare with such fury wage, And into mourning changed the expected sport, Because all knew not what had moved the rage Of the infuriate people in that sort, Nor what the insult offered to the king, Suspended stood in doubt and wondering.

CXVI Of these, some will the crowded rabble's band (Too late repentant of the feat) befriend: Those, favouring not the natives of the land More than the foreigners, to part them wend. Others more wary, with their reins in hand, Sit watching how the mischief is to end. Gryphon and Aquilant are of the throng Which hurry forward to avenge the wrong.

CXVII The pair of warlike brethren witnessing The monarch's drunken eyes with venom fraught, And having heard from many in the ring The occasion which the furious strife had wrought, Himself no whit less injured than the king Of Syria's land, offended Gryphon thought. Each knight, in haste, supplied himself with spear, And thundering vengeance drove in full career.

CXVIII On Rabican, pricked forth before his hand, Valiant Astolpho, from the other bound, With the enchanted lance of gold in hand, Which at the first encounter bore to ground What knights he smote with it; and on the sand Laid Gryphon first; next Aquilant he found, And scarcely touched the border of his shield, Ere he reversed the warrior on the field.

CXIX From lofty saddle Sansonnet o'erthrew, Famous for price and prowess, many a knight. To the outlet of the square the mob withdrew; The monarch raged with anger and despite. Meanwhile, of the first cuirass and the new Possest, as well as either helmet bright, Marphisa, when she all in flight discerned, Conqueror towards her suburb-inn returned.

CXX Sansonnet and Astolpho are not slow In following t'wards the gate the martial maid, (The mob dividing all to let them go) And halt when they have reached the barricade. Gryphon and Aquilant, who saw with woe Themselves on earth at one encounter laid, Their drooping heads, opprest with shame, decline, Nor dare appear before King Norandine.

CXXI Seizing their steeds and mounting, either son Of Oliver to seek their foemen went: With many of his vassals too is gone The king; on death or vengeance all intent. The foolish rabble cry, "Lay on, lay on." And stand at distance and await the event. Gryphon arrived where the three friends had gained A bridge, and facing round the post maintained.

CXXII He, at the first approach, Astolpho knew, For still the same device had been his wear, Even from the day he charmed Orrilo slew, His horse, his arms the same: him not with care Sir Gryphon had remarked, nor stedfast view, When late he jousted with him in the square: He knows him here and greets; next prays him show Who the companions are that with him go;

CXXIII And why they had those arms, without the fear Of Syria's king, pulled down, and to his slight. Of his champions England's cavalier, Sir Gryphon courteously informed aright. But little of those arms, pursued the peer, He knew, which were the occasion of the fight; But (for he thither with Marphisa came And Sansonnet) had armed to aid the dame.

CXXIV While he and Gryphon stood in colloquy, Aquilant came, and knew Astolpho good, Whom he heard speaking with his brother nigh, And, though of evil purpose, changed his mood. Of Norandine's trooped many, these to spy; But came not nigh the warriors where they stood: And seeing them in conference, stood clear, Listening, in silence, and intent to hear.

CXXV Some one who hears Marphisa hold is there, Famed, through the world, for matchless bravery, His courser turns, and bids the king have care, Save he would lose his Syrian chivalry, To snatch his court, before all slaughtered are, From the hand of Death and of Tisiphone: For that 'twas verily Marphisa, who Had borne away the arms in public view.

CXXVI As Norandine is told that name of dread, Through the Levant so feared on every side, Whose mention made the hair on many a head Bristle, though she was often distant wide. He fears the ill may happen which is said, Unless against the mischief he provide; And hence his meiny, who have changed their ire Already into fear, he bids retire.

CXXVII The sons of Oliver, on the other hand, With Sansonnetto and the English knight, So supplicate Marphisa, she her brand Puts up, and terminates the cruel fight; And to the monarch next, amid his brand, Cries, proudly, "Sir, I know not by what right Thou wouldst this armour, not thine own, present To him who conquers in thy tournament.

CXXVIII "Mine are these arms, which I, upon a day, Left on the road which leads from Armeny, Because, parforce a-foot, I sought to stay A robber, who had sore offended me. The truth of this my ensign may display. Which here is seen, if it be known to thee." With that she on the plate which sheathed the breast (Cleft in three places) showed a crown imprest.

CXXIX "To me this an Armenian merchant gave, 'Tis true," replied the king, "some days ago; And had you raised your voice, the arms to crave, You should have had them, whether yours or no. For, notwithstanding I to Gryphon gave The armour, I so well his nature know, He freely would resign the gift he earned, That it by me to you might be returned.

CXXX "Your allegation needs not to persuade These arms are yours -- that they your impress bear; Your word suffices me, by me more weighed Than all that other witness could declare. To grant them yours is but a tribute paid To Virtue, worthy better prize to wear. Now have the arms, and let us make accord; And let some fairer gift the knight reward."

CXXXI Gryphon, who little had those arms at heart, But much to satisfy the king was bent, Replied: "You recompense enough impart, Teaching me how your wishes to content." -- "Here is my honour all at sake," apart, "Meseemeth," said Marphisa, and forewent Her claim for Gryphon's sake, with courteous cheer; And, as his gift, in fine received the gear.

CXXXII To the city, their rejoicings to renew, In love and peace they measured back their way. Next came the joust, of which the honour due, And prize was Sansonnet's; since from the fray Abstained Astolpho and the brethren two, And bold Marphisa, best of that array, Like faithful friends and good companions; fain That Sansonnet the tourney's meed should gain.

CXXXIII Eight days or ten in joy and triumph dwell The knights with Norandine; but with such strong Desire of France the warriors' bosoms swell, Which will not let them thence be absent long, They take their leave. Marphisa, who as well Thither would go, departs the troop among. Marphisa had long time, with sword and lance, Desired to prove the paladins of France;

CXXXIV And make experiment, if they indeed Such worth as is by Rumour voiced display. Sansonnet leaves another, in his stead, The city of Jerusalem to sway, And now these five, in chosen squadron speed, Who have few peers in prowess, on their way. Dismist by Norandine, to Tripoli They wend, and to the neighbouring haven hie.

CXXXV And there a carack find, about to steer For western countries, taking in her store: They, with the patron, for themselves and gear, And horses, make accord; a seaman hoar Of Luna he: the heavens, on all sides clear, Vouch many days' fair weather. From the shore They loose, with sky serene, and every sail Of the yare vessel stretched by favouring gale.

CXXXVI The island of the amorous deity Breathed upon them an air, in her first port, Which not alone to man does injury, But moulders iron, and here life is short; -- A marsh the cause, -- and Nature certainly Wrongs Famagosta, poisoning, in such sort, That city with Constantia's fen malign, To all the rest of Cyprus so benign.

CXXXVII The noxious scents that from the marish spring, After short sojourn there, compel their flight. The barque to a south-easter every wing Extends, and circles Cyprus to the right, Makes Paphos' island next, and, anchoring, The crew and warriors on the beach alight; Those to ship merchandize, and these, at leisure, To view the laughing land of Love and Pleasure.

CXXXVIII Inland six miles or seven from thence, a way Scales, with an easy rise, a pleasant hill; Which myrtle, orange, cedar-tree, and bay, And other perfumed plants by thousands fill; Thyme, marjoram, crocus, rose, and lily gay From odoriferous leaf such sweets distill, That they who sail the sea the fragrance bland, Scent in each genial gale which blows from land.

CXXXIX A fruitful rill, by limpid fountain fed, Waters, all round about, the fertile space. The land of Venus truly may be said That passing joyous and delightful place: For every maid and wife, who there is bred, Is through the world beside, unmatched in grace: And Venus wills, till their last hour be tolled, That Love should warm their bosoms, young and old.

CXL 'Twas here they heard the same which they before Of the orc and of Lucina, erst had heard In Syria; how she to return once more In Nicosia, to her lord prepared. Thence (a fair wind now blowing from the shore) His bark for sea the ready Patron cleared, Hawled up his anchor, westward turned the head Of the good ship, and all his canvas spread.

CXLI To the north wind, which blew upon their right, Stretching to seaward, they their sails untie: When lo! a south-south-wester, which seemed light, In the beginning, while the sun was high, And afterwards increased in force t'wards night, Raised up the sea against them mountains high; With such dread flashes, and loud peals of thunder, As Heaven, to swallow all in fire, would sunder.

CXLII The clouds their gloomy veil above them strain, Nor suffer sun or star to cheer the view. Above the welkin roared, beneath the main; On every side the wind and tempest grew; Which, with sharp piercing cold and blinding rain, Afflicted sore the miserable crew. While aye descending night, with deeper shade, The vext and fearful billows overlayed.

CXLIII The sailors, in this war of wind and flood, Were prompt to manifest their vaunted art. One blowing through the shrilling whistle stood, And with the signal taught the rest their part. One clears the best bower anchor: one is good To lower, this other to hawl home or start The braces; one from deck the lumber cast, And this secured the tiller, that the mast.

CXLIV The cruel wind increased throughout the night, Which grew more dismal and more dark than hell. The wary Patron stood to sea outright, Where he believed less broken was the swell; And turned his prow to meet, with ready sleight, The buffets of the dreadful waves which fell; Never without some hope, that at day-break The storm might lull, or else its fury slake.

CXLV It lulls not, nor its fury slakes, but grown Wilder, shows worse by day, -- if this be day, Which but by reckoning of the hours is known, And not by any cheering light or ray. Now, with more fear (his weaker hope o'erthrown). The sorrowing Patron to the wind gives way, He veers his barque before the cruel gale, And scowers the foaming sea with humble sail.

CXLVI While Fortune on the sea annoys this crew, She grants those others small repose by land, Those left in France, who one another slew, -- The men of England and the paynim band. These bold Rinaldo broke and overthrew; Nor troops nor banners spread before him stand: I speak of him, who his Baiardo fleet Had spurred the gallant Dardinel to meet.

CXLVII The shield, of which Almontes' son was vain, That of the quarters, good Rinaldo spied; And deemed him bold, and of a valiant strain, Who with Orlando's ensign dared to ride. Approaching nearer, this appeared more plain, When heaps of slaughtered men he round him eyed. "Better it were," he cried, "to overthrow This evil plant, before it shoot and grow."

CXLVIII Each to retreat betook him, where the peer His face directed, and large passage made. Nor less the Saracens than faithful, clear The way, so reverenced is Fusberta's blade. Save Dardinel, Mount Alban's cavalier, Saw none, nor he to chase his prey delayed. To whom, "He cast upon thee mickle care, Poor child, who of that buckler left thee heir.

CXLIX "I seek thee out to prove (if thou attend My coming) how thou keep'st the red and white, For thou, save this from me thou canst defend, Canst ill defend it from Orlando's might." To him the king: "Now clearly comprehend, I what I bear, as well defend in fight; And I more honour hope than trouble dread From my paternal quartering, white and red.

CL "Have thou no hope to make me fly, or yield To thee my quarters, though a child I be; My life shalt thou take from me, if my shield; But I, in God, well hope the contrary. -- This as it may! -- shall none, in fighting field, Say that I ever shamed my ancestry." So said, and grasping in his hand the sword, The youthful king assailed Mount Alban's lord.

CLI Upon all parts, a freezing fear goes through The heart blood of each trembling paynim nigh, When they amazed the fierce Rinaldo view; Who charged the monarch with such enmity, As might a lion, which a bullock, new To stings of love, should in a meadow spy. The Moor smote first, but fruitless was his task, Who beat in vain upon Mambrino's casque.

CLII Rinaldo smiled, and said: "I'd have thee know If I am better skilled to find the vein." He spurs, and lets with that the bridle go, And a thrust pushes with such might and main, -- A thrust against the bosom of his foe, That at his back the blade appears again. Forth issued blood and soul, and from his sell Lifeless and cold the reeling body fell.

CLIII As languishes the flower of purple hue, Which levelled by the passing ploughshare lies; Or as the poppy, overcharged with dew, In garden droops its head in piteous wise: From life the leader of Zumara's crew So past, his visage losing all its dyes; So passed from life; and perished with their king, The heart and hope of all his following.

CLIV As waters will sometime their course delay, Stagnant, and penned in pool by human skill, Which, when the opposing dyke is broke away, Fall, and with mighty noise the country fill: 'Twas so the Africans, who had some stay, While Dardinello valour did instil, Fled here and there, dismayed on every side, When they him hurtling form his sell descried.

CLV Letting the flyers fly, of those who stand Firm in their place, Rinaldo breaks the array; Ariodantes kills on every hand; Who ranks well nigh Rinaldo on that day. These Leonetto's, those Zerbino's brand O'erturns, all rivals in the glorious fray. Well Charles and Oliver their parts have done, Turpin and Ogier, Guido and Salomon.

CLVI In peril were the Moors, that none again Should visit Heatheness, that day opprest: But that the wise and wary king of Spain, Gathered, and from the field bore off the rest: To sit down with his loss he better gain Esteemed, that here to hazard purse and vest: Better some remnant of the host to save, Than bid whole squadrons stand and find a grave.

CLVII He bids forthwith the Moorish ensigns be Borne to the camp, which fosse and rampart span. With the bold monarch of Andology, The valiant Portuguese, and Stordilan. He sends to pray the king of Barbary, To endeavour to retire, as best be can; Who will no little praise that day deserve, If he his person and his place preserve.

CLVIII That king, who deemed himself in desperate case, Nor ever more Biserta hoped to see; For, with so horrible and foul a face He never Fortune had beheld, with glee Heard that Marsilius had contrived to place Part of his host in full security; And faced about his banners and bade beat Throughout his broken squadrons a retreat.

CLIX But the best portion neither signal knew, Nor listened to the drum or trumpet's sound. So scared, so crowded is the wretched crew, That many in Seine's neighbouring stream are drowned, Agramant, who would form the band anew, (With him Sobrino) scowers the squadrons round; And with them every leader good combines To bring the routed host within their lines.

CLX But nought by sovereign or Sobrino done, Who, toiling, them with prayer or menace stirred, To march, where their ill-followed flags are gone. Can bring (I say not all) not even a third. Slaughtered or put to flight are two for one Who 'scapes, -- nor he unharmed: among that herd, Wounded is this behind, and that before, And wearied, one and all, and harassed sore.

CLXI And even within their lines, in panic sore, They by the Christian bands are held in chase; And of all needful matters little store Was made there, for provisioning the place. Charlemagne wisely by the lock before Would grapple Fortune, when she turned her face, But that dark night upon the field descended, And hushed all earthly matters and suspended:

CLXII By the Creator haply hastened, who Was moved to pity for the works he made. The blood in torrents ran the country through, Flooding the roads: while on the champaign laid Were eighty thousand of the paynim crew, Cut off that day by the destroying blade: Last trooped from caverns, at the midnight hour, Villain and wolf to spoil them and devour.

CLXIII King Charles returns no more within the town, But camps without the city, opposite The Moor's cantonments, and bids up and down, And round, high-piled and frequent watch-fires light. The paynim fashions ditch and bastion, Rampart and mine, and all things requisite; Visits his outposts and his guards alarms, Nor all the livelong night puts off his arms.

CLXIV That livelong night the foes, throughout their tents, As insecure and with their scathe deprest, Poured tears, and uttered murmurs and laments; But, as they could, their sounds of woe supprest. One grief for slaughtered friends or kindred vents; Some are by sorrows of their own distrest, As wounded or as ill at ease; but more Tremble at mischief which they deem in store.

CLXV Two Moors amid the paynim army were, From stock obscure in Ptolomita grown; Of whom the story, an example rare Of constant love, is worthy to be known: Medoro and Cloridan were named the pair; Who, whether Fortune pleased to smile or frown, Served Dardinello with fidelity, And late with him to France had crost the sea.

CLXVI Of nimble frame and strong was Cloridane, Throughout his life a follower of the chase. A cheek of white, suffused with crimson grain, Medoro had, in youth a pleasing grace. Nor bound on that emprize, 'mid all the train, Was there a fairer or more jocund face. Crisp hair he had of gold, and jet-black eyes: And seemed an angel lighted from the skies.

CLXVII These two were posted on a rampart's height, With more to guard the encampment from surprise, When 'mid the equal intervals, at night, Medoro gazed on heaven with sleepy eyes. In all his talk, the stripling, woful wight, Here cannot choose, but of his lord devise, The royal Dardinel; and evermore Him, left unhonoured on the field, deplore.

CLXVIII Then, turning to his mate, cries: "Cloridane, I cannot tell thee what a cause of woe It is to me, my lord upon the plain Should lie, unworthy food for wolf or crow! Thinking how still to me he was humane, Meseems, if in his honour I forego This life of mine, for favours so immense I shall but make a feeble recompense.

CLXIX "That he may lack not sepulture, will I Go forth, and seek him out among the slain; And haply God may will that none shall spy Where Charles's camp lies hushed. Do thou remain; That, if my death be written in the sky, Thou may'st the deed be able to explain. So that if Fortune foil so fear a feat, The world, through Fame, my loving heart may weet."

CLXX Amazed was Cloridan a child should show Such heart, such love, and such fair loyalty; And fain would make the youth his though forego, Whom he held passing dear; but fruitlessly Would move his stedfast purpose; for such woe Will neither comforted nor altered be. Medoro is disposed to meet his doom, Or to enclose his master in the tomb.

CLXXI Seeing that nought would bend him, nought would move, "I too will go," was Cloridan's reply, "In such a glorious act myself will prove; As well such famous death I cover, I: What other thing is left me, here above, Deprived of thee, Medoro mine? To die With thee in arms is better, on the plain, Than afterwards of grief, should'st thou be slain."

CLXXII And thus resolved, disposing in their place Their guard's relief, depart the youthful pair, Leave fosse and palisade, and, in small space, Are among ours, who watch with little care: Who, for they little fear the paynim race, Slumber with fires extinguished everywhere. 'Mid carriages and arms, they lie supine Up to the eyes, immersed in sleep and wine.

CLXXIII A moment Cloridano stopt and cried: "Not to be lost are opportunities. This troop, by whom my master's blood was shed, Medoro, ought not I to sacrifice? Do thou, lest any one this way be led, Watch everywhere about, with ears and eyes. For a wide way, amid the hostile horde, I offer here to make thee with my sword."

CLXXIV So said he, and his talk cut quickly short, Coming where learned Alpheus slumbered nigh; Who had the year before sought Charles's court, In medicine, magic, and astrology Well versed; but now in art found small-support, Or rather found that it was all a lie. He had foreseen, that he his long-drawn life Should finish in the bosom of his wife.

CLXXV And now the Saracen with wary view Has pierced his weasand with the pointed sword. Four others he neat that Diviner, slew, Nor gave the wretches time to say a word. Sir Turpin in his story tells not who, And Time had of their names effaced record. Palidon of Moncalier next he speeds; One who securely sleeps between two steeds.

CLXXVI Next came the warrior where, with limbs outspread, Pillowed on barrel, lay the wretched Gryll: This he had drained, and undisturbed by dread, Hoped to enjoy a peaceful sleep and still. The daring Saracen lopt off his head, Blood issues from the tap-hole, with a rill Of wine; and he, well drenched with many a can, Dreams that he drinks, dispatched by Cloridan.

CLXXVII Next Gryll, Andropono and Conrad hight, A Greek and German, at two thrusts he gored, Who in the air had past large part of night With dice and goblet; blest it at that board They still had watched, till, clothed in amber light, The radiant sun had traversed Indus' ford! But mortals Destiny would set at nought If every wight futurity were taught.

CLXXVIII As, in full fold, a lion long unfed, Whom wasting famine had made lean and spare, Devours and rends, and swallows, and lays dead The feeble flock, which at his mercy are; So, in their sleep, the cruel paynim bled Our host, and made wide slaughter everywhere: Nor blunted was the young Medoro's sword, But he disdained to smite the ignoble horde.

CLXXIX He to Labretto's duke, leaving those dead, Had come, who slumbered with a gentle mate, Each clasping each so closely in their bed, That air between them could not penetrate. From both Medoro cleanly lopt the head. Oh! blessed way of death! oh! happy fate! For 'tis my trust, that as their bodies, so Their souls embracing to their bourne shall go.

CLXXX Malindo, with Andalico, he slew, His brother, sons to the earl of Flanders they: To whom has bearings (each to arms was new) Charles had the lilies given; because that day The monarch had beheld the valiant two With crimsoned staves, returning from the fray; And them with lands in Flanders vowed to glad; And would, but that Medoro this forbad.

CLXXXI Rearing the insidious blade, the pair are near The place, where round King Charles' pavilion Are tented warlike paladin and peer, Guarding the side that each is camped upon. When in good time the paynims backward steer, And sheathe their swords, the impious slaughter done; Deeming impossible, in such a number, But they must light on one who does not slumber.

CLXXXII And though they might escape well charged with prey, To save themselves they think sufficient gain. Thither by what he deems the safest way (Medoro following him) went Cloridane Where, in the field, 'mid bow and falchion, lay, And shield and spear, in pool of purple stain, Wealthy and poor, the king and vassal's corse, And overthrown the rider and his horse.

CLXXXIII The horrid mixture of the bodies there Which heaped the plain where roved these comrades sworn, Might well have rendered vain their faithful care Amid the mighty piles, till break of morn, Had not the moon, at young Medoro's prayer, Out of a gloomy cloud put forth her horn. Medoro to the heavens upturns his eyes Towards the moon, and thus devoutly cries:

CLXXXIV "O holy goddess! whom our fathers well Have styled as of a triple form, and who Thy sovereign beauty dost in heaven, and hell, And earth, in many forms reveal; and through The greenwood holt, of beast and monster fell, -- A huntress bold -- the flying steps pursue, Show where my king, amid so many lies, Who did, alive, thy holy studies prize."

CLXXXV At the youth's prayer from parted cloud outshone (Were it the work of faith or accident) The moon, as fair, as when Endymion She circled in her naked arms: with tent, Christian or Saracen, was Paris-town Seen in that gleam, and hill and plain's extent. With these Mount Martyr and Mount Levy's height, This on the left, and that upon the right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Canto 19

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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