Produced by Douglas B. Killings

Orlando Furioso

("Orlando Enraged")

By

Ludovico Ariosto

(1474-1533)

Translated by William Stewart Rose

This electronic edition was edited, proofed, and prepared by Douglas B. Killings (DeTroyes@AOL.COM), July, 1995. Additional corrections made September, 1995.

NOTE: Please let the preparer know of any textual errors that you find; this edition has been proofed once, but I am finding additional errors all the time.

INTRODUCTION:

This work is a continuation of the "Orlando Innamorato" of Matteo Maria Boiardo, which was left unfinished upon the author's death in 1494. It begins more or less at the point where Boiardo left it.

This is a brief synopsis of Boiardo's work, omitting most of the numerous digressions and incidental episodes associated with these events:

To the court of King Charlemagne comes Angelica (daughter to the king of Cathay, or India) and her brother Argalia. Angelica is the most beautiful woman any of the Peers have ever seen, and all want her. However, in order to take her as wife they must first defeat Argalia in combat. The two most stricken by her are Orlando and Ranaldo ("Rinaldo" in Rose).

When Argalia falls to the heathen knight Ferrau, Angelica flees — with Orlando and Ranaldo in hot pursuit. Along the way, both Angelica and Ranaldo drink magic waters — Angelica is filled with a burning love for Ranaldo, but Ranaldo is now indifferent.

Eventually, Orlando and Ranaldo arrive at Angelica's castle.
Others also gather at Angelica's castle, including Agricane, King
of Tartary; Sacripant, King of Circassia; Agramante, King of
Africa and Marfisa ("Marphisa" in Rose), an Asian warrior-Queen.
Except for Orlando and Ranaldo, all are heathen.

Meanwhile, France is threatened by heathen invaders. Led by King
Gradasso of Sericana (whose principal reason for going to war is
to obtain Orlando's sword, Durindana) and King Rodomonte of
Sarzia, a Holy War between Pagans and Christians ensues.

Ranaldo leaves Angelica's castle, and Angelica and a very love-sick (but very chaste and proper) Orlando, set out for France in search of him. Again the same waters as before are drunk from, but this time in reverse — Ranaldo now burns for Angelica, but Angelica is now indifferent. Ranaldo and Orlando now begin to fight over her, but King Charlemagne (fearing the consequences if his two best knights kill each other in combat) intervenes and promises Angelica to whichever of the two fights the best against the heathen; he leaves her in the care of Duke Namus. Orlando and Ranaldo arrive in Paris just in time to repulse an attack by Agramante.

Namus' camp is overrun by the heathen. Angelica escapes, with Ranaldo in pursuit. Also in pursuit is Ferrau, who (because he had defeated Argalia) considers Angelica his. It is at this point that the poem breaks off.

While the Orlando-Ranaldo-Angelica triangle is going on, the stories of other knights and their loves are mixed in. Most important of these is that of the female knight Bradamante (sister of Ranaldo), who falls in love with a very noble heathen knight named Ruggiero ("Rogero" in Rose). Ruggiero, who is said to be a descendent of Alexander the Great and Hector, also falls in love with Bradamante, but because they are fighting on opposite sides it is felt that their love is hopeless. Nevertheless, it is prophecised that they shall wed and found the famous Este line, who shall rise to become one of the major families of Medieval and Renaissance Italy (it is worth noting that the Estes where the patrons of both Boiardo and Ariosto). Opposed to this prophecy is Atlantes, an African wizard who seeks to derail fate and keep Ruggiero from becoming a Christian. By the end of the poem, Ruggiero is imprisoned in Atlantes' castle. However, Bradamante (who has decided to follow her heart) is in pursuit of her love, and is not too far away. It is the Bradamante-Ruggiero story that eventually takes center stage in Ariosto's work.

Other characters of importance: Astolfo, a Peer and friend of Orlando, who is kidnaped by the evil witch Morgana and her sister Alcina; Mandricardo, a fierce but hot-headed heathen; and a young knight named Brandimarte, who falls in love with (and wins the heart of) the beautiful Fiordelisa ("Flordelice" in Rose). All play major or semi-major roles in the events of Ariosto's poem.

—DBK

*****************************************************************

CANTO 1

  ARGUMENT
  Angelica, whom pressing danger frights,
  Flies in disorder through the greenwood shade.
  Rinaldo's horse escapes: he, following, fights
  Ferrau, the Spaniard, in a forest glade.
  A second oath the haughty paynim plights,
  And keeps it better than the first he made.
  King Sacripant regains his long-lost treasure;
  But good Rinaldo mars his promised pleasure.

  I
  OF LOVES and LADIES, KNIGHTS and ARMS, I sing,
  Of COURTESIES, and many a DARING FEAT;
  And from those ancient days my story bring,
  When Moors from Afric passed in hostile fleet,
  And ravaged France, with Agramant their king,
  Flushed with his youthful rage and furious heat,
  Who on king Charles', the Roman emperor's head
  Had vowed due vengeance for Troyano dead.

  II
  In the same strain of Roland will I tell
  Things unattempted yet in prose or rhyme,
  On whom strange madness and rank fury fell,
  A man esteemed so wise in former time;
  If she, who to like cruel pass has well
  Nigh brought my feeble wit which fain would climb
  And hourly wastes my sense, concede me skill
  And strength my daring promise to fulfil.

  III
  Good seed of Hercules, give ear and deign,
  Thou that this age's grace and splendour art,
  Hippolitus, to smile upon his pain
  Who tenders what he has with humble heart.
  For though all hope to quit the score were vain,
  My pen and pages may pay the debt in part;
  Then, with no jealous eye my offering scan,
  Nor scorn my gifts who give thee all I can.

  IV
  And me, amid the worthiest shalt thou hear,
  Whom I with fitting praise prepare to grace,
  Record the good Rogero, valiant peer,
  The ancient root of thine illustrious race.
  Of him, if thou wilt lend a willing ear,
  The worth and warlike feats I shall retrace;
  So thou thy graver cares some little time
  Postponing, lend thy leisure to my rhyme.

  V
  Roland, who long the lady of Catay,
  Angelica, had loved, and with his brand
  Raised countless trophies to that damsel gay,
  In India, Median, and Tartarian land,
  Westward with her had measured back his way;
  Where, nigh the Pyrenees, with many a band
  Of Germany and France, King Charlemagne
  Had camped his faithful host upon the plain.

  VI
  To make King Agramant, for penance, smite
  His cheek, and rash Marsilius rue the hour;
  This, when all trained with lance and sword to fight,
  He led from Africa to swell his power;
  That other when he pushed, in fell despite,
  Against the realm of France Spain's martial flower.
  'Twas thus Orlando came where Charles was tented
  In evil hour, and soon the deed repented.

  VII
  For here was seized his dame of peerless charms,
  (How often human judgment wanders wide)!
  Whom in long warfare he had kept from harms,
  From western climes to eastern shores her guide
  In his own land, 'mid friends and kindred arms,
  Now without contest severed from his side.
  Fearing the mischief kindled by her eyes,
  From him the prudent emperor reft the prize.

  VIII
  For bold Orlando and his cousin, free
  Rinaldo, late contended for the maid,
  Enamored of that beauty rare; since she
  Alike the glowing breast of either swayed.
  But Charles, who little liked such rivalry,
  And drew an omen thence of feebler aid,
  To abate the cause of quarrel, seized the fair,
  And placed her in Bavarian Namus' care.

  IX
  Vowing with her the warrior to content,
  Who in that conflict, on that fatal day,
  With his good hand most gainful succour lent,
  And slew most paynims in the martial fray.
  But counter to his hopes the battle went,
  And his thinned squadrons fled in disarray;
  Namus, with other Christian captains taken,
  And his pavilion in the rout forsaken.

  X
  There, lodged by Charles, that gentle bonnibel,
  Ordained to be the valiant victor's meed,
  Before the event had sprung into her sell,
  And from the combat turned in time of need;
  Presaging wisely Fortune would rebel
  That fatal day against the Christian creed:
  And, entering a thick wood, discovered near,
  In a close path, a horseless cavalier.

  XI
  With shield upon his arm, in knightly wise,
  Belted and mailed, his helmet on his head;
  The knight more lightly through the forest hies
  Than half-clothed churl to win the cloth of red.
  But not from cruel snake more swiftly flies
  The timid shepherdess, with startled tread,
  Than poor Angelica the bridle turns
  When she the approaching knight on foot discerns.

  XII
  This was that Paladin, good Aymon's seed,
  Who Mount Albano had in his command;
  And late Baiardo lost, his gallant steed,
  Escaped by strange adventure from his hand.
  As soon as seen, the maid who rode at speed
  The warrior knew, and, while yet distant, scanned
  The angelic features and the gentle air
  Which long had held him fast in Cupid's snare.

  XIII
  The affrighted damsel turns her palfrey round,
  And shakes the floating bridle in the wind;
  Nor in her panic seeks to choose her ground,
  Nor open grove prefers to thicket blind.
  But reckless, pale and trembling, and astound,
  Leaves to her horse the devious way to find.
  He up and down the forest bore the dame,
  Till to a sylvan river's bank he came.

  XIV
  Here stood the fierce Ferrau in grisly plight,
  Begrimed with dust, and bathed with sweat and blood
  Who lately had withdrawn him from the fight,
  To rest and drink at that refreshing flood:
  But there had tarried in his own despite,
  Since bending from the bank, in hasty mood,
  He dropped his helmet in the crystal tide,
  And vainly to regain the treasure tried.

  XV
  Thither at speed she drives, and evermore
  In her wild panic utters fearful cries;
  And at the voice, upleaping on the shore,
  The Saracen her lovely visage spies.
  And, pale as is her cheek, and troubled sore,
  Arriving, quickly to the warrior's eyes
  (Though many days no news of her had shown)
  The beautiful Angelica is known.

  XVI
  Courteous, and haply gifted with a breast
  As warm as either of the cousins two;
  As bold, as if his brows in steel were dressed,
  The succour which she sought he lent, and drew
  His faulchion, and against Rinaldo pressed,
  Who saw with little fear the champion true.
  Not only each to each was known by sight,
  But each had proved in arms his foeman's might.

  XVII
  Thus, as they are, on foot the warriors vie
  In cruel strife, and blade to blade oppose;
  No marvel plate or brittle mail should fly,
  When anvils had not stood the deafening blows.
  It now behoves the palfrey swift to ply
  His feet; for while the knights in combat close,
  Him vexed to utmost speed, with goading spurs,
  By waste or wood the frighted damsel stirs.

  XVIII
  After the two had struggled long to throw
  Each other in the strife, and vainly still;
  Since neither valiant warrior was below
  His opposite in force and knightly skill:
  The first to parley with his Spanish foe
  Was the good master of Albano's hill
  (As one within whose raging breast was pent
  A reckless fire which struggled for a vent).

  XIX
  "Thou think'st," he said, "to injure me alone,
  But know thou wilt thyself as much molest:
  For if we fight because yon rising sun
  This raging heat has kindled in thy breast.
  What were thy gain, and what the guerdon won,
  Though I should yield my life, or stoop my crest;
  If she shall never be thy glorious meed,
  Who flies, while vainly we in battle bleed?

  XX
  "Then how much better, since our stake's the same,
  Thou, loving like myself, should'st mount and stay
  To wait this battle's end, the lovely dame,
  Before she fly yet further on her way.
  The lady taken, we repeat our claim
  With naked faulchion to that peerless prey:
  Else by long toil I see not what we gain
  But simple loss and unrequited pain."

  XXI
  The peer's proposal pleased the paynim well.
  And so their hot contention was foregone;
  And such fair truce replaced that discord fell,
  So mutual wrongs forgot and mischief done;
  That for departure seated in his sell,
  On foot the Spaniard left not Aymon's son;
  But him to mount his courser's crupper prayed;
  And both united chased the royal maid.

  XXII
  Oh! goodly truth in cavaliers of old!
  Rivals they were, to different faith were bred.
  Not yet the weary warriors' wounds were cold —
  Still smarting from those strokes so fell and dread.
  Yet they together ride by waste and wold,
  And, unsuspecting, devious dingle thread.
  Them, while four spurs infest his foaming sides,
  Their courser brings to where the way divides.

  XXIII
  And now the warlike pair at fault, for they
  Knew not by which she might her palfrey goad,
  (Since both, without distinction, there survey
  The recent print of hoofs on either road),
  Commit the chase to fortune. By this way
  The paynim pricked, by that Rinaldo strode.
  But fierce Ferrau, bewildered in the wood,
  Found himself once again where late he stood.

  XXIV
  Beside the water, where he stoop'd to drink,
  And dropt the knightly helmet, — to his cost,
  Sunk in the stream; and since he could not think
  Her to retrieve, who late his hopes had crossed.
  He, where the treasure fell, descends the brink
  Of that swift stream, and seeks the morion lost.
  But the casque lies so bedded in the sands,
  'Twill ask no light endeavour at his hands.

  XXV
  A bough he severs from a neighbouring tree,
  And shreds and shapes the branch into a pole:
  With this he sounds the stream, and anxiously
  Fathoms, and rakes, and ransacks shelf and hole.
  While angered sore at heart, and restless, he
  So lingered, where the troubled waters roll,
  Breast-high, from the mid river rose upright,
  The apparition of an angry knight.

  XXVI
  Armed at all points he was, except his head,
  And in his better hand a helmet bore:
  The very casque, which in the river's bed
  Ferrau sought vainly, toiling long and sore.
  Upon the Spanish knight he frowned, and said:
  "Thou traitor to thy word, thou perjured Moor,
  Why grieve the goodly helmet to resign,
  Which, due to me long since, is justly mine?

  XXVII
  "Remember, pagan, when thine arm laid low
  The brother of Angelica. That knight
  Am I; — thy word was plighted then to throw
  After my other arms his helmet bright.
  If Fortune now compel thee to forego
  The prize, and do my will in thy despite,
  Grieve not at this, but rather grieve that thou
  Art found a perjured traitor to thy vow.

  XXVIII
  "But if thou seek'st a helmet, be thy task
  To win and wear it more to thy renown.
  A noble prize were good Orlando's casque;
  Rinaldo's such, or yet a fairer crown;
  Almontes', or Mambrino's iron masque:
  Make one of these, by force of arms, thine own.
  And this good helm will fitly be bestowed
  Where (such thy promise) it has long been owed."

  XXIX
  Bristled the paynim's every hair at view
  Of that grim shade, uprising from the tide,
  And vanished was his fresh and healthful hue,
  While on his lips the half-formed accents died.
  Next hearing Argalia, whom he slew,
  (So was the warrior hight) that stream beside,
  Thus his unknightly breach of promise blame,
  He burned all over, flushed with rage and shame.

  XXX
  Nor having time his falsehood to excuse,
  And knowing well how true the phantom's lore,
  Stood speechless; such remorse the words infuse.
  Then by Lanfusa's life the warrior swore,
  Never in fight, or foray would he use
  Helmet but that which good Orlando bore
  From Aspramont, where bold Almontes paid
  His life a forfeit to the Christian blade.

  XXXI
  And this new vow discharged more faithfully
  Than the vain promise which was whilom plight;
  And from the stream departing heavily,
  Was many days sore vexed and grieved in sprite;
  And still intent to seek Orlando, he
  Roved wheresoe'er he hoped to find the knight.
  A different lot befel Rinaldo; who
  Had chanced another pathway to pursue.

  XXXII
  For far the warrior fared not, ere he spied,
  Bounding across the path, his gallant steed,
  And, "Stay, Bayardo mine," Rinaldo cried,
  "Too cruel care the loss of thee does breed."
  The horse for this returned not to his side,
  Deaf to his prayer, but flew with better speed.
  Furious, in chase of him, Rinaldo hies.
  But follow we Angelica, who flies.

  XXXIII
  Through dreary woods and dark the damsel fled,
  By rude unharboured heath and savage height,
  While every leaf or spray that rustled, bred
  (Of oak, or elm, or beech), such new affright,
  She here and there her foaming palfrey sped
  By strange and crooked paths with furious flight;
  And at each shadow, seen in valley blind,
  Or mountain, feared Rinaldo was behind.

  XXXIV
  As a young roe or fawn of fallow deer,
  Who, mid the shelter of its native glade,
  Has seen a hungry pard or tiger tear
  The bosom of its bleeding dam, dismayed,
  Bounds, through the forest green in ceaseless fear
  Of the destroying beast, from shade to shade,
  And at each sapling touched, amid its pangs,
  Believes itself between the monster's fangs,

  XXXV
  One day and night, and half the following day,
  The damsel wanders wide, nor whither knows;
  Then enters a deep wood, whose branches play,
  Moved lightly by the freshening breeze which blows.
  Through this two clear and murmuring rivers stray:
  Upon their banks a fresher herbage grows;
  While the twin streams their passage slowly clear,
  Make music with the stones, and please the ear.

  XXXVI
  Weening removed the way by which she wends,
  A thousand miles from loathed Rinaldo's beat,
  To rest herself a while the maid intends,
  Wearied with that long flight and summer's heat.
  She from her saddle 'mid spring flowers descends
  And takes the bridle from her courser fleet.
  And loose along the river lets him pass,
  Roving the banks in search of lusty grass.

  XXXVII
  Behold! at hand a thicket she surveys
  Gay with the flowering thorn and vermeil rose:
  The tuft reflected in the stream which strays
  Beside it, overshadowing oaks enclose.
  Hollow within, and safe from vulgar gaze,
  It seemed a place constructed for repose;
  With bows so interwoven, that the light
  Pierced not the tangled screen, far less the sight.

  XXXVIII
  Within soft moss and herbage form a bed;
  And to delay and rest the traveller woo.
  'Twas there her limbs the weary damsel spread,
  Her eye-balls bathed in slumber's balmy dew.
  But little time had eased her drooping head,
  Ere, as she weened, a courser's tramp she knew.
  Softly she rises, and the river near,
  Armed cap-a-pie, beholds a cavalier.

  XXXIX
  If friend or foe, she nothing comprehends,
  (So hope and fear her doubting bosom tear)
  And that adventure's issue mute attends,
  Nor even with a sigh disturbs the air.
  The cavalier upon the bank descends;
  And sits so motionless, so lost in care,
  (His visage propt upon his arm) to sight
  Changed into senseless stone appeared the knight.

  XL
  Pensive, above an hour, with drooping head,
  He rested mute, ere he began his moan;
  And then his piteous tale of sorrow said,
  Lamenting in so soft and sweet a tone,
  He in a tiger's breast had pity bred,
  Or with his mournful wailings rent a stone.
  And so he sighed and wept; like rivers flowed
  His tears, his bosom like an Aetna glowed.

  XLI
  "Thought which now makes me burn, now freeze with hate,
  Which gnaws my heart and rankles at its root!
  What's left to me," he said, "arrived too late,
  While one more favoured bears away the fruit?
  Bare words and looks scarce cheered my hopeless state,
  And the prime spoils reward another's suit.
  Then since for me nor fruit nor blossom hangs,
  Why should I longer pine in hopeless pangs?

  XLII
  "The virgin has her image in the rose
  Sheltered in garden on its native stock,
  Which there in solitude and safe repose,
  Blooms unapproached by sheperd or by flock.
  For this earth teems, and freshening water flows,
  And breeze and dewy dawn their sweets unlock:
  With such the wistful youth his bosom dresses.
  With such the enamored damsel braids her tresses.

  XLIII
  "But wanton hands no sooner this displace
  From the maternal stem, where it was grown,
  Than all is withered; whatsoever grace
  It found with man or heaven; bloom, beauty, gone.
  The damsel who should hold in higher place
  Than light or life the flower which is her own,
  Suffering the spoiler's hand to crop the prize,
  Forfeits her worth in every other's eyes.

  XLIV
  "And be she cheap with all except the wight
  On whom she did so large a boon bestow.
  Ah! false and cruel Fortune! foul despite!
  While others triumph, I am drown'd in woe.
  And can it be that I such treasure slight?
  And can I then my very life forego?
  No! let me die; 'twere happiness above
  A longer life, if I must cease to love."

  XLV
  If any ask who made this sorrowing,
  And pour'd into the stream so many tears,
  I answer, it was fair Circassia's king,
  That Sacripant, oppressed with amorous cares.
  Love is the source from which his troubles spring,
  The sole occasion of his pains and fears;
  And he to her a lover's service paid,
  Now well remembered by the royal maid.

  XLVI
  He for her sake from Orient's farthest reign
  Roved thither, where the sun descends to rest;
  For he was told in India, to his pain,
  That she Orlando followed to the west.
  He after learned in France that Charlemagne
  Secluded from that champion and the rest,
  As a fit guerdon, mewed her for the knight
  Who should protect the lilies best in fight.

  XLVII
  The warrior in the field had been, and viewed,
  Short time before, king Charlemagne's disgrace;
  And vainly had Angelica pursued,
  Nor of the damsel's footsteps found a trace.
  And this is what the weeping monarch rued,
  And this he so bewailed in doleful case:
  Hence, into words his lamentations run,
  Which might for pity stop the passing sun.

  XLVIII
  While Sacripant laments him in this plight,
  And makes a tepid fountain of his eyes;
  And, what I deem not needful to recite,
  Pours forth yet other plaints and piteous cries;
  Propitious Fortune will his lady bright
  Should hear the youth lament him in such wise:
  And thus a moment compassed what, without
  Such chance, long ages had not brought about.

  XLIX
  With deep attention, while the warrior weeps,
  She marks the fashion of the grief and tears
  And words of him, whose passion never sleeps;
  Nor this the first confession which she hears.
  But with his plaint her heart no measure keeps,
  Cold as the column which the builder rears.
  Like haughty maid, who holds herself above
  The world, and deems none worthy of her love.

  L
  But her from harm amid those woods to keep,
  The damsel weened she might his guidance need;
  For the poor drowning caitiff, who, chin-deep,
  Implores not help, is obstinate indeed.
  Nor will she, if she let the occasion sleep,
  Find escort that will stand her in such stead:
  For she that king by long experience knew
  Above all other lovers, kind and true.

  LI
  But not the more for this the maid intends
  To heal the mischief which her charms had wrought,
  And for past ills to furnish glad amends
  In that full bliss by pining lover sought.
  To keep the king in play are all her ends,
  His help by some device or fiction bought,
  And having to her purpose taxed his daring,
  To reassume as wont her haughty bearing.

  LII
  An apparition bright and unforeseen,
  She stood like Venus or Diana fair,
  In solemn pageant, issuing on the scene
  From out of shadowy wood or murky lair.
  And "Peace be with you," cried the youthful queen,
  "And God preserve my honour in his care,
  Nor suffer that you blindly entertain
  Opinion of my fame so false and vain!"

  LIII
  Not with such wonderment a mother eyes,
  With such excessive bliss the son she mourned
  As dead, lamented still with tears and sighs,
  Since the thinned files without her boy returned.
  — Not such her rapture as the king's surprise
  And ecstasy of joy when he discerned
  The lofty presence, cheeks of heavenly hue,
  And lovely form which broke upon his view.

  LIV
  He, full of fond and eager passion, pressed
  Towards his Lady, his Divinity;
  And she now clasped the warrior to her breast,
  Who in Catay had haply been less free.
  And now again the maid her thoughts addressed
  Towards her native land and empery:
  And feels, with hope revived, her bosom beat
  Shortly to repossess her sumptuous seat.

  LV
  Her chances all to him the damsel said,
  Since he was eastward sent to Sericane
  By her to seek the martial monarch's aid,
  Who swayed the sceptre of that fair domain;
  And told how oft Orlando's friendly blade
  Had saved her from dishonour, death, and pain;
  And how she so preserved her virgin flower
  Pure as it blossomed in her natal hour.

  LVI
  Haply the tale was true; yet will not seem
  Likely to one of sober sense possessed:
  But Sacripant, who waked from worser dream,
  In all without a cavil acquiesced:
  Since love, who sees without one guiding gleam,
  Spies in broad day but that which likes him best:
  For one sign of the afflicted man's disease
  Is to give ready faith to things which please.

  LVII
  "If good Anglante's lord the prize forbore,
  Nor seized the fair occasion when he might,
  The loss be his, if Fortune never more
  Him to enjoy so fair a prize invite.
  To imitate that lord of little lore
  I think not," said, apart, Circassa's knight.
  "To quit such proffered good, and, to my shame,
  Have but myself on after-thought to blame.

  LVIII
  "No! I will pluck the fresh and morning rose,
  Which, should I tarry, may be overblown.
  To woman, (this my own experience shows),
  No deed more sweet or welcome can be done.
  Then, whatsoever scorn the damsel shows,
  Though she awhile may weep and make her moan,
  I will, unchecked by anger, false or true,
  Or sharp repulse, my bold design pursue."

  LIX
  This said, he for the soft assault prepares,
  When a loud noise within the greenwood shade
  Beside him, rang in his astounded ears,
  And sore against his will the monarch stayed.
  He donned his helm (his other arms he wears),
  Aye wont to rove in steel, with belted blade,
  Replaced the bridle on his courser fleet,
  Grappled his lance, and sprang into his seat.

  LX
  With the bold semblance of a valiant knight,
  Behold a warrior threads the forest hoar.
  The stranger's mantle was of snowy white,
  And white alike the waving plume he wore.
  Balked of his bliss, and full of fell despite,
  The monarch ill the interruption bore,
  And spurred his horse to meet him in mid space,
  With hate and fury glowing in his face.

  LXI
  Him he defies to fight, approaching nigh,
  And weens to make him stoop his haughty crest:
  The other knight, whose worth I rate as high,
  His warlike prowess puts to present test;
  Cuts short his haughty threats and angry cry,
  And spurs, and lays his levelled lance in rest.
  In tempest wheels Circassia's valiant peer,
  And at his foeman's head each aims his spear.

  LXII
  Not brindled bulls or tawny lions spring
  To forest warfare with such deadly will
  As those two knights, the stranger and the king.
  Their spears alike the opposing bucklers thrill:
  The solid ground, at their encountering,
  Trembles from fruitful vale to naked hill:
  And well it was the mail in which they dressed
  Their bodies was of proof, and saved the breast.

  LXIII
  Nor swerved the chargers from their destined course;
  Who met like rams, and butted head to head.
  The warlike Saracen's ill-fated horse,
  Well valued while alive, dropt short and dead:
  The stranger's, too, fell senseless; but perforce
  Was roused by rowel from his grassy bed.
  That of the paynim king, extended straight,
  Lay on his battered lord with all his weight.

  LXIV
  Upright upon his steed, the knight unknown,
  Who at the encounter horse and rider threw,
  Deeming enough was in the conflict done,
  Cares not the worthless warfare to renew;
  But endlong by the readiest path is gone,
  And measures, pricking frith and forest through,
  A mile, or little less, in furious heat,
  Ere the foiled Saracen regains his feet.

  LXV
  As the bewildered and astonished clown
  Who held the plough (the thunder storm o'erpast)
  There, where the deafening bolt had beat him down,
  Nigh his death-stricken cattle, wakes aghast,
  And sees the distant pine without its crown,
  Which he saw clad in leafy honours last;
  So rose the paynim knight with troubled face,
  The maid spectatress of the cruel case.

  LXVI
  He sighs and groans, yet not for mischief sore
  Endured in wounded arm or foot which bled;
  But for mere shame, and never such before
  Or after, dyed his cheek so deep a red,
  And if he rued his fall, it grieved him more
  His dame should lift him from his courser dead.
  He speechless had remained, I ween, if she
  Had not his prisoned tongue and voice set free.

  LXVII
  "Grieve not," she said, "sir monarch, for thy fall;
  But let the blame upon thy courser be!
  To whom more welcome had been forage, stall,
  And rest, than further joust and jeopardy;
  And well thy foe the loser may I call,
  (Who shall no glory gain) for such is he
  Who is the first to quit his ground, if aught
  Angelica of fighting fields be taught."

  LXVIII
  While she so seeks the Saracen to cheer,
  Behold a messenger with pouch and horn,
  On panting hackney! — man and horse appear
  With the long journey, weary and forlorn.
  He questions Sacripant, approaching near,
  Had he seen warrior pass, by whom were borne
  A shield and crest of white; in search of whom
  Through the wide forest pricked the weary groom.

  LXIX
  King Sacripant made answer, "As you see,
  He threw me here, and went but now his way:
  Then tell the warrior's name, that I may be
  Informed whose valour foiled me in the fray."
  To him the groom, — "That which you ask of me
  I shall relate to you without delay:
  Know that you were in combat prostrate laid
  By the tried valour of a gentle maid.

  LXX
  "Bold is the maid; but fairer yet than bold,
  Nor the redoubted virgin's name I veil:
  'Twas Bradamant who marred what praise of old
  Your prowess ever won with sword and mail."
  This said, he spurred again, his story told,
  And left him little gladdened by the tale.
  He recks not what he says or does, for shame,
  And his flushed visage kindles into flame.

  LXXI
  After the woeful warrior long had thought
  Upon his cruel case, and still in vain,
  And found a woman his defeat had wrought,
  For thinking but increased the monarch's pain,
  He climbed the other horse, nor spake he aught;
  But silently uplifted from the plain,
  Upon the croup bestowed that damsel sweet,
  Reserved to gladder use in safer seat.

  LXXII
  Two miles they had not rode before they hear
  The sweeping woods which spread about them, sound
  With such loud crash and trample, far and near,
  The forest seemed to tremble all around;
  And shortly after see a steed appear,
  With housings wrought in gold and richly bound;
  Who clears the bush and stream, with furious force
  And whatsoever else impedes his course.

  LXXIII
  "Unless the misty air," the damsel cries,
  "And boughs deceive my sight, yon noble steed
  Is, sure, Bayardo, who before us flies,
  And parts the wood with such impetuous speed.
  — Yes, 'tis Bayardo's self I recognize.
  How well the courser understands our need!
  Two riders ill a foundered jade would bear,
  But hither speeds the horse to end that care."

  LXXIV
  The bold Circassian lighted, and applied
  His hand to seize him by the flowing rein,
  Who, swiftly turning, with his heels replied,
  For he like lightning wheeled upon the plain.
  Woe to the king! but that he leaps aside,
  For should he smite, he would not lash in vain.
  Such are his bone and sinew, that the shock
  Of his good heels had split a metal rock.

  LXXV
  Then to the maid he goes submissively,
  With gentle blandishment and humble mood;
  As the dog greets his lord with frolic glee,
  Whom, some short season past, he had not viewed.
  For good Bayardo had in memory
  Albracca, where her hands prepared his food,
  What time the damsel loved Rinaldo bold;
  Rinaldo, then ungrateful, stern, and cold.

  LXXVI
  With her left hand she takes him by the bit,
  And with the other pats his sides and chest:
  While the good steed (so marvellous his wit),
  Lamb-like, obeyed the damsel and caressed.
  Meantime the king, who sees the moment fit,
  Leapt up, and with his knees the courser pressed.
  While on the palfrey, eased of half his weight,
  The lady left the croup, and gained the seat.

  LXXVII
  Then, as at hazard, she directs her sight,
  Sounding in arms a man on foot espies,
  And glows with sudden anger and despite;
  For she in him the son of Aymon eyes.
  Her more than life esteems the youthful knight,
  While she from him, like crane from falcon, flies.
  Time was the lady sighed, her passion slighted;
  'Tis now Rinaldo loves, as ill requited.

  LXXVIII
  And this effect two different fountains wrought,
  Whose wonderous waters different moods inspire.
  Both spring in Arden, with rare virtue fraught:
  This fills the heart with amorous desire:
  Who taste that other fountain are untaught
  Their love, and change for ice their former fire.
  Rinaldo drank the first, and vainly sighs;
  Angelica the last, and hates and flies.

  LXXIX
  Mixed with such secret bane the waters glide,
  Which amorous care convert to sudden hate;
  The maid no sooner had Rinaldo spied,
  Than on her laughing eyes deep darkness sate:
  And with sad mien and trembling voice she cried
  To Sacripant, and prayed him not to wait
  The near approach of the detested knight,
  But through the wood with her pursue his flight.

  LXXX
  To her the Saracen, with anger hot:
  "Is knightly worship sunk so low in me,
  That thou should'st hold my valour cheap, and not
  Sufficient to make yonder champion flee?
  Already are Albracca's fights forgot,
  And that dread night I singly stood for thee?
  That night when I, though naked, was thy shield
  Against King Agrican and all his field?"

  LXXXI
  She answers not, and knows not in her fear
  What 'tis she does; Rinaldo is too nigh:
  And from afar that furious cavalier
  Threats the bold Saracen with angry cry,
  As soon as the known steed and damsel dear,
  Whose charms such flame had kindled, meet his eye.
  But what ensued between the haughty pair
  I in another canto shall declare.

CANTO 2

  ARGUMENT
  A hermit parts, by means of hollow sprite,
  The two redoubted rivals' dangerous play;
  Rinaldo goes where Love and Hope invite,
  But is dispatched by Charles another way;
  Bradamont, seeking her devoted knight,
  The good Rogero, nigh becomes the prey
  Of Pinabel, who drops the damsel brave
  Into the dungeon of a living grave.

  I
  Injurious love, why still to mar accord
  Between desires has been thy favourite feat?
  Why does it please thee so, perfidious lord,
  Two hearts should with a different measure beat?
  Thou wilt not let me take the certain ford,
  Dragging me where the stream is deep and fleet.
  Her I abandon who my love desires,
  While she who hates, respect and love inspires.

  II
  Thou to Rinaldo show'st the damsel fair,
  While he seems hideous to that gentle dame;
  And he, who when the lady's pride and care,
  Paid back with deepest hate her amorous flame,
  Now pines, himself, the victim of despair,
  Scorned in his turn, and his reward the same.
  By the changed damsel in such sort abhorred,
  She would choose death before that hated lord.

  III
  He to the Pagan cries: "Forego thy theft,
  And down, false felon, from that pilfer'd steed;
  I am not wont to let my own be reft.
  And he who seeks it dearly pays the deed.
  More — I shall take from thee yon lovely weft;
  To leave thee such a prize were foul misdeed;
  And horse and maid, whose worth outstrips belief,
  Were ill, methinks, relinquished to a thief."

  IV
  "Thou liest," the haughty Saracen retorts,
  As proud, and burning with as fierce a flame,
  "A thief thyself, if Fame the truth reports:
  But let good deeds decide our dubious claim,
  With whom the steed or damsel fair assorts:
  Best proved by valiant deeds: though, for the dame,
  That nothing is so precious, I with thee
  (Search the wide world throughout) may well agree."

  V
  As two fierce dogs will somtimes stand at gaze,
  Whom hate or other springs of strife inspire,
  And grind their teeth, while each his foe surveys
  With sidelong glance and eyes more red than fire,
  Then either falls to bites, and hoarsely bays,
  While their stiff bristles stand on end with ire:
  So from reproach and menace to the sword
  Pass Sacripant and Clermont's angry lord.

  VI
  Thus kindling into wrath the knights engage:
  One is on foot, the other on his horse:
  Small gain to this; for inexperienced page
  Would better rein his charger in the course.
  For such Baiardo's sense, he will not wage
  War with his master, or put out his force.
  For voice, nor hand, nor manage, will he stir,
  Rebellious to the rein or goading spur.

  VII
  He, when the king would urge him, takes the rest,
  Or, when he curbs him, runs in giddy rings;
  And drops his head beneath his spreading chest,
  And plays his spine, and runs an-end and flings.
  And now the furious Saracen distressed,
  Sees 'tis no time to tame the beast, and springs,
  With one hand on the pummel, to the ground;
  Clear of the restless courser at a bound.

  VIII
  As soon as Sacripant, with well-timed leap,
  Is from the fury of Bayardo freed,
  You may believe the battle does not sleep
  Between those champions, matched in heart and deed.
  Their sounding blades such changeful measure keep,
  The hammer-strokes of Vulcan with less speed
  Descend in that dim cavern, where he heats,
  And Jove's red thunders on his anvil beats.

  IX
  Sometimes they lunge, then feign the thrust and parry:
  Deep masters of the desperate game they play;
  Or rise upon the furious stroke, and carry
  Their swords aloft, or stoop and stand at bay.
  Again they close, again exhausted tarry;
  Now hide, now show themselves, and now give way,
  And where one knight an inch of ground has granted,
  His foeman's foot upon that inch is planted.

  X
  When, lo! Rinaldo, now impatient grown,
  Strikes full at Sacripant with lifted blade;
  And he puts forth his buckler made of bone,
  And well with strong and stubborn steel inlaid:
  Though passing thick, Fusberta cleaves it: groan
  Greenwood, and covert close, and sunny glade.
  The paynim's arm rings senseless with the blow,
  And steel and bone, like ice, in shivers go.

  XI
  When the fair damsel saw, with timid eye,
  Such ruin follow from the faulchion's sway,
  She, like the criminal, whose doom is nigh,
  Changed her fair countenance through sore dismay,
  And deemed that little time was left to fly
  If she would not be that Rinaldo's prey,
  Rinaldo loathed by her as much, as he
  Doats on the scornful damsel miserably.

  XII
  So turned her horse into the gloomy chase,
  And drove him through rough path and tangled ally
  And oftentimes bent back her bloodless face,
  And saw Rinaldo from each thicket sally.
  Nor flying long had urged the frantic race,
  Before she met a hermit in a valley.
  Devotion in his aspect was expressed,
  And his long beard descended on his breast.

  XIII
  Wasted he was as much by fasts as age,
  And on an ass was mounted, slow and sure;
  His visage warranted that never sage
  Had conscience more precise or passing pure.
  Though in his arteries time had stilled the rage
  Of blood, and spake him feeble and demure,
  At sight of the delighted damsel, he
  Was inly stirred for very charity.

  XIV
  The lady prayed that kindly friar, that he
  Would straight conduct her to some haven near,
  For that she from the land of France might flee,
  And never more of loathed Rinaldo hear.
  The hermit, who was skilled in sorcery,
  Ceased not to soothe the gentle damsel's fear.
  And with the promise of deliverance, shook
  His pocket, and drew forth a secret book.

  XV
  This opened, quick and mighty marvel wrought;
  For not a leaf is finished by the sage,
  Before a spirit, by his bidding brought,
  Waits his command in likeness of a page:
  He, by the magic writ constrained and taught,
  Hastes where the warriors face to face engage,
  In the cool shade — but not in cool disport —
  And steps between, and stops their battle short.

  XVI
  "In courtesy," he cried, "let either show
  What his foe's death to either can avail,
  And what the guerdon conquest will bestow
  On him who in the battle shall prevail,
  If Roland, though he has not struck a blow,
  Or snapt in fight a single link of mail,
  To Paris-town conveys the damsel gay,
  Who has engaged you in this bitter fray.

  XVII
  "Within an easy mile I saw the peer
  Pricking to Paris with that lady bright;
  Riding, in merry mood, with laugh and jeer,
  And mocking at your fierce and fruitless fight.
  Sure it were better, while they yet are near,
  To follow peer and damsel in their flight:
  For should he once in Paris place his prize
  The lady never more shall meet your eyes."

  XVIII
  You might have seen those angry cavaliers
  Change at the demon's tale for rage and shame;
  And curse themselves as wanting eyes and ears,
  To let their rival cheat them of the dame.
  Towards his horse the good Rinaldo steers,
  Breathing forth piteous sighs which seem of flame;
  And, if he joins Orlando — ere they part —
  Swears in his fury he will have his heart.

  XIX
  So, passing where the prompt Bayardo stood,
  Leaps on his back, and leaves, as swift as wind,
  Without farewell, his rival in the wood;
  Much less invites him to a seat behind.
  The goaded charger, in his heat of blood,
  Forces whate'er his eager course confined,
  Ditch, river, tangled thorn, or marble block;
  He swims the river, and he clears the rock.

  XX
  Let it not, sir, sound strangely in your ear
  Rinaldo took the steed thus readily,
  So long and vainly followed far and near;
  For he, endued with reasoning faculty,
  Had not in vice lured on the following peer,
  But fled before his cherished lord, that he
  Might guide him whither went the gentle dame,
  For whom, as he had heard, he nursed a flame.

  XXI
  For when Angelica, in random dread,
  From the pavilion winged her rapid flight,
  Bayardo marked the damsel as she fled,
  His saddle lightened of Mount Alban's knight;
  Who then on foot an equal combat sped,
  Matched with a baron of no meaner might;
  And chased the maid by woods, and floods, and strands,
  In hopes to place her in the warrior's hands.

  XXII
  And, with desire to bring him to the maid,
  Gallopped before him still with rampant play;
  But would not let his master mount, afraid
  That he might make him take another way.
  So luring on Rinaldo through the shade,
  Twice brought him to his unexpected prey;
  Twice foiled in his endeavour: once by bold
  Ferrau; then Sacripant, as lately told.

  XXIII
  Now good Bayardo had believed the tiding
  Of that fair damsel, which produced the accord;
  And in the devil's cunning tale confiding,
  Renewed his wonted service to his lord.
  Behold Rinaldo then in fury riding,
  And pushing still his courser Paris-ward!
  Though he fly fast, the champion's wishes go
  Faster; and wind itself had seemed too slow.

  XXIV
  At night Rinaldo rests his steed, with pain
  To meet Anglante's lord he burned so sore;
  And lent such credit to the tidings vain
  Of the false courier of that wizard hoar:
  And that day and the next, with flowing rein,
  Rode, till the royal city rose before
  His eyes; where Charlemagne had taken post,
  With the sad remnant of his broken host.

  XXV
  He, for he fears the Afric king's pursuit,
  And sap and siege, upon his vassals calls
  To gather in fresh victual, and recruit
  And cleanse their ditches, and repair their walls.
  And what may best annoy the foes, and suit
  For safety, without more delay forestalls;
  And plans an embassy to England, thence
  To gather fresher forces for defence.

  XXVI
  For he is bent again to try the fate
  Of arms in tented field, though lately shamed;
  And send Rinaldo to the neighbouring state
  Of Britain, which was after England named.
  Ill liked the Paladin to cross the strait;
  Not that the people or the land he blamed,
  But that King Charles was sudden; nor a day
  Would grant the valiant envoy for delay.

  XXVII
  Rinaldo never executed thing
  Less willingly, prevented in his quest
  Of that fair visage he was following,
  Whose charms his heart had ravished from his breast.
  Yet, in obediance to the christian king,
  Prepared himself to do the royal hest.
  To Calais the good envoy wends with speed,
  And the same day embarks himself and steed.

  XXVIII
  And there, in scorn of cautious pilot's skill
  (Such his impatience to regain his home),
  Launched on the doubtful sea, which boded ill,
  And rolled its heavy billows, white with foam.
  The wind, enraged that he opposed his will,
  Stirred up the waves; and, 'mid the gathering gloom,
  So the loud storm and tempest's fury grew,
  That topmast-high the flashing waters flew.

  XXIX
  The watchful mariners, in wary sort,
  Haul down the mainsail, and attempt to wear;
  And would put back in panic to the port,
  Whence, in ill hour, they loosed with little care.
  — "Not so," exclaims the wind, and stops them short,
  "So poor a penance will not pay the dare."
  And when they fain would veer, with fiercer roar
  Pelts back their reeling prow and blusters more.

  XXX
  Starboard and larboard bears the fitful gale,
  And never for a thought its ire assuages;
  While the strained vessel drives with humble sail
  Before the billows, as the tempest rages.
  But I, who still pursue a varying tale,
  Must leave awhile the Paladin, who wages
  A weary warfare with the wind and flood;
  To follow a fair virgin of his blood.

  XXXI
  I speak of that famed damsel, by whose spear
  O'erthrown, King Sacripant on earth was flung;
  The worthy sister of the valiant peer,
  From Beatrix and good Duke Aymon sprung.
  By daring deeds and puissance no less dear
  To Charlemagne and France: Since proved among
  The first, her prowess, tried by many a test,
  Equal to good Rinaldo's shone confessed.

  XXXII
  A cavalier was suitor to the dame,
  Who out of Afric passed with Agramant;
  Rogero was his valiant father's name,
  His mother was the child of Agolant.
  And she, who not of bear or lion came,
  Disdained not on the Child her love to plant,
  Though cruel Fortune, ill their wishes meeting,
  Had granted to the pair a single greeting.

  XXXIII
  Alone thenceforth she sought her lover (he
  Was named of him to whom he owed his birth),
  And roved as safe as if in company
  Of thousands, trusting in her single worth.
  She having made the king of Circassy
  Salute the visage of old mother earth,
  Traversed a wood, and that wood past, a mountain;
  And stopt at length beside a lovely fountain.

  XXXIV
  Through a delicious mead the fountain-rill,
  By ancient trees o'ershaded, glides away;
  And him whose ear its pleasing murmurs fill,
  Invites to drink, and on its banks to stay;
  On the left side a cultivated hill
  Excludes the fervors of the middle day.
  As first the damsel thither turns her eyes,
  A youthful cavalier she seated spies;

  XXXV
  A cavalier, who underneath the shade,
  Seems lost, as in a melancholy dream;
  And on the bank, which gaudy flowers displayed,
  Reposing, overhangs the crystal stream.
  His horse beneath a spreading beech is laid,
  And from a bough the shield and helmet gleam.
  While his moist eyes, and sad and downcast air,
  Speak him the broken victim of despair.

  XXXVI
  Urged by the passion lodged in every breast,
  A restless curiosity to know
  Of others' cares, the gentle maid addressed
  The knight, and sought the occasion of his woe.
  And he to her his secret grief confessed,
  Won by her gentle speech and courteous show,
  And by that gallant bearing, which at sight,
  Prepared who saw her for nimble knight.

  XXXVII
  "Fair sir, a band of horse and foot," he said,
  "I brought to Charlemagne; and thither pressed,
  Where he an ambush for Marsilius spread,
  Descending from the Pyrenean crest;
  And in my company a damsel led,
  Whose charms with fervid love had fired my breast.
  When, as we journey by Rhone's current, I
  A rider on a winged courser spy.

  XXXVIII
  "The robber, whether he were man or shade,
  Or goblin damned to everlasting woe,
  As soon as he beheld my dear-loved maid,
  Like falcon, who, descending, aims its blow,
  Sank in a thought and rose; and soaring, laid
  Hands on his prize, and snatched her from below.
  So quick the rape, that all appeared a dream,
  Until I heard in air the damsel's scream.

  XXXIX
  "The ravening kite so swoops and plunders, when
  Hovering above the shelterd yard, she spies
  A helpless chicken near unwatchful hen,
  Who vainly dins the thief with after cries.
  I cannot reach the mountain-robber's den,
  Compassed with cliffs, or follow one who flies.
  Besides, way-foundered is my weary steed,
  Who 'mid these rocks has wasted wind and speed.

  XL
  "But I, like one who from his bleeding side
  Would liefer far have seen his heart out-torn,
  Left my good squadrons masterless, to ride
  Along the cliffs, and passes least forlorn;
  And took the way (love served me for a guide)
  Where it appeared the ruthless thief had born,
  Ascending to his den, the lovely prey,
  What time he snatched my hope and peace away.

  XLI
  "Six days I rode, from morn to setting sun,
  By horrid cliff, by bottom dark and drear;
  And giddy precipice, where path was none,
  Nor sign, nor vestiges of man were near.
  At last a dark and barren vale I won,
  Where caverned mountains and rude cliffs appear;
  Where in the middle rose a rugged block,
  With a fair castle planted on the rock.

  XLII
  "From far it shone like flame, and seemed not dight
  Of marble or of brick; and in my eye
  More wonderful the work, more fair to sight
  The walls appeared, as I approached more nigh.
  I, after, learned that it was built by sprite
  Whom potent fumes had raised and sorcery:
  Who on this rock its towers of steel did fix,
  Case-hardened in the stream and fire of Styx.

  XLIII
  "Each polished turret shines with such a ray
  That it defies the mouldering rust and rain:
  The robber scours the country night and day,
  And after harbours in this sure domain.
  Nothing is safe which he would bear away;
  Pursued with curses and with threats in vain.
  There (fruitless every hope to foil his art)
  The felon keeps my love, oh! say my heart.

  XLIV
  "Alas! what more is left me but to eye
  Her prison on that cliff's aerial crest?
  Like the she-fox, who hears her offspring cry,
  Standing beneath the ravening eagle's nest;
  And since she has not wings to rise and fly,
  Runs round the rugged rock with hopeless quest.
  So inaccessible the wild dominion
  To whatsoever has not plume and pinion.

  XLV
  "While I so lingered where those rocks aspire,
  I saw a dwarf guide two of goodly strain;
  Whose coming added hope to my desire
  (Alas! desire and hope alike were vain)
  Both barons bold, and fearful in their ire:
  The one Gradasso, King of Sericane,
  The next, of youthful vigour, was a knight,
  Prized in the Moorish court, Rogero hight.

  XLVI
  "The dwarf exclaimed, `These champions will assay
  Their force with him who dwells on yonder steep,
  And by such strange and unattempted way
  Spurs the winged courser from his mountain-keep.'
  And I to the approaching warriors say,
  `Pity, fair sirs, the cruel loss I weep,
  And, as I trust, yon daring spoiler slain,
  Give my lost lady to my arms again.'

  XLVII
  "Then how my love was ravished I make known,
  Vouching with bitter tears my deep distress.
  They proffer aid, and down the path of stone
  Which winds about the craggy mountain, press.
  While I, upon the summit left alone,
  Look on, and pray to God for their success.
  Beneath the wily wizard's castle strong
  Extends a little plain, two bow-shots long.

  XLVIII
  "Arrived beneath the craggy keep, the two
  Contend which warrior shall begin the fight.
  When, whether the first lot Gradasso drew,
  Or young Rogero held the honor light,
  The King of Sericane his bugle blew,
  And the rock rang and fortress on the height;
  And, lo! apparelled for the fearful course,
  The cavalier upon his winged horse!

  XLIX
  "Upwards, by little and by little, springs
  The winged courser, as the pilgrim crane
  Finds not at first his balance and his wings,
  Running and scarcely rising from the plain;
  But when the flock is launched and scattered, flings
  His pinions to the wind, and soars amain.
  So straight the necromancer's upward flight,
  The eagle scarce attempts so bold a height.

  L
  "When it seems fit, he wheels his courser round,
  Who shuts his wings, and falling from the sky,
  Shoots like a well trained falcon to the ground,
  Who sees the quarry, duck or pigeon, fly:
  So, through the parting air, with whizzing sound,
  With rested lance, he darted from on high;
  And while Gradasso scarcely marks the foe
  He hears him swooping near, and feels the blow.

  LI
  "The wizard on Gradasso breaks his spear,
  He wounds the empty air, with fury vain.
  This in the feathered monster breeds no fear;
  Who to a distance shifts, and swoops again.
  While that encounter made the Alfana rear,
  Thrown back upon her haunches, on the plain.
  The Alfana that the Indian monarch rode,
  The fairest was that ever man bestrode.

  LII
  "Up to the starry sphere with swift ascent
  The wizard soars, then pounces from the sky,
  And strikes the young Rogero, who, intent
  Upon Gradasso, deems no danger nigh.
  Beneath the wizard's blow the warrior bent,
  Which made some deal his generous courser ply;
  And when to smite the shifting foe he turned,
  Him in the sky, and out of reach discerned.

  LIII
  "His blows Rogero, now Gradasso, bruise
  On forehead, bosom, back, or flanks, between;
  While he the warrior's empty blows eschews,
  Shifting so quickly that he scarce is seen.
  Now this, now that, the wizard seems to choose,
  The monster makes such spacious rings and clean,
  While the enchanter so deceives the knights,
  They view him not, and know not whence he smites.

  LIV
  "Between the two on earth and him o' the sky,
  Until that hour the warfare lasted there,
  Which, spreading wide its veil of dusky dye,
  Throughout the world, discolours all things fair.
  What I beheld, I say; I add not, I,
  A tittle to the tale; yet scarcely dare
  To tell to other what I stood and saw;
  So strange it seems, so passing Nature's law.

  LV
  "Well covered in a goodly silken case,
  He, the celestial warrior, bore his shield;
  But why delayed the mantle to displace
  I know not, and its lucid orb concealed.
  Since this no sooner blazes in his face,
  Than his foe tumbles dazzled on the field;
  And while he, like a lifeless body, lies,
  Becomes the necromancer's helpless prize.

  LVI
  "LIke carbuncle, the magic buckler blazed,
  No glare was ever seen which shone so bright:
  Nor could the warriors choose but fall, amazed
  And blinded by the clear and dazzling light.
  I, too, that from a distant mountain gazed,
  Fell senseless; and when I regained my sight,
  After long time, saw neither knights nor page,
  Nor aught beside a dark and empty stage.

  LVII
  "This while the fell enchanter, I supposed,
  Dragged both the warriors to his prison-cell;
  And by strange virtue of the shield disclosed,
  I from my hope and they from freedom fell:
  And thus I to the turrets, which enclosed
  My heart, departing, bade a last farewell.
  Now sum my griefs, and say if love combine
  Other distress or grief to match with mine."

  LVIII
  The knight relapsed into his first disease,
  After his melancholy tale was done.
  This was Count Pinabel, the Maganzese,
  Anselmo d'Altaripa's faithless son.
  He, where the blood ran foul through all degrees,
  Disdained to be the only virtuous one;
  Nor played a simple part among the base,
  Passing in vice the villains of his race.

  LIX
  With aspect changing still, the beauteous dame
  Hears what the mournful Maganzese narrates;
  And, at first mention of Rogero's name,
  Her radiant face with eager joy dilates.
  But, full of pity, kindles into flame
  As Pinabel his cruel durance states.
  Nor finds she, though twice told, the story stale;
  But makes him oft repeat and piece his tale.

  LX
  And, after, when she deemed that all was clear,
  Cried to the knight, "Repose upon my say.
  To thee may my arrival well be dear,
  And thou as fortunate account this day.
  Straight wend me to the keep, sir cavalier,
  Which holds a jewel of so rich a ray:
  Nor shalt thou grudge thy labour and thy care,
  If envious Fortune do but play me fair."

  LXI
  The knight replied, "Then nought to me remains
  But that I yonder mountain-passes show;
  And sure 'tis little loss to lose my pains,
  Where every thing is lost I prize below.
  But you would climb yon cliffs, and for your gains
  Will find a prison-house, and be it so!
  Whate'er betide you, blame yourself alone;
  You go forewarned to meet a fate foreshown."

  LXII
  So said, the cavalier remounts his horse,
  And serves the gallant damsel as a guide;
  Who is prepared Rogero's gaol to force,
  Or to be slain, or in his prison stied.
  When lo! a messenger, in furious course,
  Called to the dame to stay, and rode and cried.
  This was the post who told Circassa's lord
  What valiant hand had stretched him on the sward.

  LXIII
  The courier, who so plied his restless heel,
  News of Narbonne and of Montpelier bore:
  How both had raised the standard of Castile,
  All Acquamorta siding with the Moor;
  And how Marseilles' disheartened men appeal
  To her, who should protect her straightened shore;
  And how, through him, her citizens demand
  Counsel and comfort at their captain's hand.

  LXIV
  This goodly town, with many miles of plain,
  Which lie 'twixt Var and Rhone, upon the sea,
  To her was given by royal Charlemagne:
  Such trust he placed in her fidelity.
  Still wont with wonder on the tented plain
  The prowess of that valiant maid to see.
  And now the panting courier, as I said,
  Rode from Marseilles to ask the lady's aid.

  LXV
  Whether or not she should the call obey,
  The youthful damsel doubts some little space;
  Strong in one balance Fame and Duty weigh,
  But softer thoughts both Fame and Duty chase:
  And she, at length, resolved the emprize to assay,
  And free Rogero from the enchanted place:
  Or, should her valour in the adventure fail,
  Would with the cherished lover share his jail.

  LXVI
  And did with such excuse that post appay,
  He was contented on her will to wait:
  Then turned the bridle to resume her way
  With Pinabel, who seemed no whit elate.
  Since of that line he knows the damsel gay,
  Held in such open and such secret hate;
  And future trouble to himself foresees,
  Were he detected as a Maganzese.

  LXVII
  For 'twixt Maganza's and old Clermont's line
  There was an ancient and a deadly feud:
  And oft to blows the rival houses came,
  And oft in civil blood their hands embrued.
  And hence some treason to this gentle dame
  In his foul heart, the wicked County brewed;
  Or, as the first occasion served, would stray
  Out of the road, and leave her by the way.

  LXVIII
  And so the traitor's troubled fancy rack
  Fear, doubt, and his own native, rancorous mood,
  That unawares he issued from the track,
  And found himself within a gloomy wood:
  Where a rough mountain reared its shaggy back,
  Whose stony peak above the forest stood;
  The daughter of Dodona's duke behind,
  Dogging his footsteps through the thicket blind.

  LXIX
  He, when he saw himself within the brake,
  Thought to abandon his unweeting foe;
  And to the dame — " 'Twere better that we make
  For shelter ere the gathering darkness grow;
  And, yonder mountain past, (save I mistake)
  A tower is seated in the vale below.
  Do you expect me then, while from the peak
  I measure the remembered place I seek."

  LXX
  So said, he pushed his courser up the height
  Of that lone mountain; in his evil mind
  Revolving, as he went, some scheme or sleight
  To rid him of the gentle dame behind.
  When lo! a rocky cavern met his sight,
  Amid those precipices dark and blind:
  Its sides descended thirty yards and more,
  Worked smooth, and at the bottom was a door.

  LXXI
  A void was at the bottom, where a wide
  Portal conducted to an inner room:
  From thence a light shone out on every side,
  As of a torch illumining the gloom.
  Fair Bradamant pursued her faithless guide,
  Suspended there, and pondering on her doom:
  And came upon the felon where he stood,
  Fearing lest she might lose him in the wood.

  LXXII
  When her approach the County's first intent
  Made vain, the wily traitor sought to mend
  His toils, and some new stratagem invent
  To rid her thence, or bring her to her end.
  And so to meet the approaching lady went,
  And showed the cave, and prayed her to ascend;
  And said that in its bottom he had seen
  A gentle damsel of bewitching mien.

  LXXIII
  Who, by her lovely semblance and rich vest,
  Appeared a lady of no mean degree;
  But melancholy, weeping, and distressed,
  As one who pined there in captivity:
  And that when he towards the entrance pressed,
  To learn who that unhappy maid might be,
  One on the melancholy damsel flew,
  And her within that inner cavern drew.

  LXXIV
  The beauteous Bradamant, who was more bold
  Than wary, gave a ready ear; and, bent
  To help the maid, imprisoned in that hold,
  Sought but the means to try the deep descent.
  Then, looking round, descried an elm-tree old,
  Which furnished present means for her intent:
  And from the tree, with boughs and foliage stored,
  Lopt a long branch, and shaped it with her sword.

  LXXV
  The severed end she to the count commended,
  Then, grasping it, hung down that entrance steep.
  With her feet foremost, by her arms suspended:
  When asking if she had the skill to leap,
  The traitor, with a laugh, his hands extended.
  And plunged his helpless prey into the deep.
  "And thus," exclaimed the ruffian, "might I speed
  With thee each sucker of thy cursed seed!"

  LXXVI
  But not, as was the will of Pinabel,
  Such cruel lot fair Bradamant assayed;
  For striking on the bottom of the cell,
  The stout elm-bough so long her weight upstayed,
  That, though it split and splintered where it fell,
  It broked her fall, and saved the gentle maid.
  Some while astounded there the lady lay,
  As the ensuing canto will display.

CANTO 3

  ARGUMENT
  Restored to sense, the beauteous Bradamant
  Finds sage Melissa in the vaulted tomb,
  And hears from her of many a famous plant
  And warrior, who shall issue from her womb.
  Next, to release Rogero from the haunt
  Of old Atlantes, learns how from the groom,
  Brunello hight, his virtuous ring to take;
  And thus the knight's and others' fetters break.

  I
  Who will vouchsafe me voice that shall ascend
  As high as I would raise my noble theme?
  Who will afford befitting words, and lend
  Wings to my verse, to soar the pitch I scheme?
  Since fiercer fire for such illustrious end,
  Than what was wont, may well my song beseem.
  For this fair portion to my lord is due
  Which sings the sires from whom his lineage grew.

  II
  Than whose fair line, 'mid those by heavenly grace
  Chosen to minister this earth below,
  You see not, Phoebus, in your daily race,
  One that in peace or war doth fairer show;
  Nor lineage that hath longer kept its place;
  And still shall keep it, if the lights which glow
  Within me, but aright inspire my soul,
  While the blue heaven shall turn about the pole.

  III
  But should I seek at full its worth to blaze,
  Not mine were needful, but that noble lyre
  Which sounded at your touch the thunderer's praise,
  What time the giants sank in penal fire.
  Yet should you instruments, more fit to raise
  The votive work, bestow, as I desire,
  All labour and all thought will I combine,
  To shape and shadow forth the great design.

  IV
  Till when, this chisel may suffice to scale
  The stone, and give my lines a right direction;
  And haply future study may avail,
  To bring the stubborn labour to perfection.
  Return we now to him, to whom the mail
  Of hawberk, shield, and helm, were small protection:
  I speak of Pinabel the Maganzeze,
  Who hopes the damsel's death, whose fall he sees.

  V
  The wily traitor thought that damsel sweet
  Had perished on the darksome cavern's floor,
  And with pale visages hurried his retreat
  From that, through him contaminated door.
  And, thence returning, clomb into his seat:
  Then, like one who a wicked spirit bore,
  To add another sin to evil deed,
  Bore off with him the warlike virgin's steed.

  VI
  Leave we sometime the wretch who, while he layed
  Snares for another, wrought his proper doom;
  And turn we to the damsel he betrayed,
  Who had nigh found at once her death and tomb.
  She, after rising from the rock, dismayed
  At her shrewd fall, and gazing through the gloom,
  Beheld and passed that inner door, which gave
  Entrance to other and more spacious cave.

  VII
  For the first cavern in a second ended,
  Fashioned in form of church, and large and square;
  With roof by cunning architect extended
  On shafts of alabaster rich and rare.
  The flame of a clear-burning lamp ascended
  Before the central altar; and the glare,
  Illuminating all the space about,
  Shone through the gate, and lit the cave without.

  VIII
  Touched with the sanctifying thoughts which wait
  On worthy spirit in a holy place,
  She prays with eager lips, and heart elate,
  To the Disposer of all earthly grace:
  And, kneeling, hears a secret wicket grate
  In the opposing wall; whence, face to face,
  A woman issuing forth, the maid addresses,
  Barefoot, ungirt, and with dishevelled tresses.

  IX
  "O generous Bradamant," the matron cried,
  "Know thine arrival in this hallowed hold
  Was not unauthorized of heavenly guide:
  And the prophetic ghost of Merlin told,
  Thou to this cave shouldst come by path untried,
  Which covers the renowned magician's mould.
  And here have I long time awaited thee,
  To tell what is the heavens' pronounced decree.

  X
  "This is the ancient memorable cave
  Which Merlin, that enchanter sage, did make:
  Thou may'st have heard how that magician brave
  Was cheated by the Lady of the Lake.
  Below, beneath the cavern, is the grave
  Which holds his bones; where, for that lady's sake,
  His limbs (for such her will) the wizard spread.
  Living he laid him there, and lies there dead.

  XI
  "Yet lives the spirit of immortal strain;
  Lodged in the enchanter's corpse, till to the skies
  The trumpet call it, or to endless pain,
  As it with dove or raven's wing shall rise.
  Yet lives the voice, and thou shalt hear how plain
  From its sepulchral case of marble cries:
  Since this has still the past and future taught
  To every wight that has its counsel sought.

  XII
  "Long days have passed since I from distant land
  My course did to this cemetery steer,
  That in the solemn mysteries I scanned,
  Merlin to me the truth should better clear;
  And having compassed the design I planned,
  A month beyond, for thee, have tarried here;
  Since Merlin, still with certain knowledge summing
  Events, prefixed this moment for thy coming."

  XIII
  The daughter of Duke Aymon stood aghast,
  And silent listened to the speech; while she
  Knew not, sore marvelling at all that passed,
  If 'twere a dream or a reality.
  At length, with modest brow, and eyes down cast,
  Replied (like one that was all modesty),
  "And is this wrought for me? and have I merit
  Worthy the workings of prophetic spirit?"

  XIV
  And full of joy the adventure strange pursues,
  Moving with ready haste behind the dame,
  Who brings her to the sepulchre which mews
  The bones and spirit, erst of Merlin's name.
  The tomb, of hardest stone which masons use,
  Shone smooth and lucid, and as red as flame.
  So that although no sun-beam pierced the gloom,
  Its splendour lit the subterraneous room.

  XV
  Whether it be the native operation
  O certain stones, to shine like torch i' the dark,
  Or whether force of spell or fumigation,
  (A guess that seems to come more near the mark)
  Or sign made under mystic constellation,
  The blaze that came from the sepulchral ark
  Discovered sculpture, colour, gems, and gilding,
  And whatsoever else adorned the building.

  XVI
  Scarcely had Bradamant above the sill
  Lifter her foot, and trod the secret cave,
  When the live spirit, in clear tones that thrill,
  Addressed the martial virgin from the grave;
  "May Fortune, chaste and noble maid, fulfil
  Thine every wish!" exclaimed the wizard brave.
  "Since from thy womb a princely race shall spring,
  Whose name through Italy and earth shall ring.

  XVII
  "The noble blood derived from ancient Troy,
  Mingling in thee its two most glorious streams,
  Shall be the ornament, and flower, and joy
  Of every lineage on which Phoebus beams,
  Where genial stars lend warmth, or cold annoy,
  Where Indus, Tagus, Nile, or Danube gleams;
  And in thy progeny and long drawn line
  Shall marquises, counts, dukes and Caesers shine.

  XVIII
  "Captains and cavaliers shall spring from thee,
  Who both by knightly lance and prudent lore,
  Shall once again to widowed Italy
  Her ancient praise and fame in arms restore;
  And in her realms just lords shall seated be,
  (Such Numa and Augustus were of yore),
  Who with their government, benign and sage,
  Shall re-create on earth the golden age.

  XIX
  "Then, that the will of Heaven be duly brought
  To a fair end through thee, in fitting date,
  Which from the first to bless thy love has wrought,
  And destined young Rogero for thy mate,
  Let nothing interpose to break that thought,
  But boldly tread the path perscribed by fate;
  Nor let aught stay thee till the thief be thrown
  By thy good lance, who keeps thee from thine own."

  XX
  Here Merlin ceased, that for the solemn feat
  Melissa might prepare with fitting spell,
  To show bold Bradamant, in aspect meet,
  The heirs who her illustrious race should swell.
  Hence many sprites she chose; but from what seat
  Evoked, I know not, or if called from hell;
  And gathered in one place (so bade the dame),
  In various garb and guise the shadows came.

  XXI
  This done, into the church she called the maid,
  Where she had drawn a magic ring, as wide
  As might contain the damsel, prostrate laid;
  With the full measure of a palm beside.
  And on her head, lest spirit should invade,
  A pentacle for more assurance tied.
  So bade her hold her peace, and stand and look,
  Then read, and schooled the demons from her book.

  XXII
  Lo! forth of that first cave what countless swarm
  Presses upon the circle's sacred round,
  But, when they would the magic rampart storm,
  Finds the way barred as if by fosse or mound;
  Then back the rabble turns of various form;
  And when it thrice with bending march has wound
  About the circle, troops into the cave,
  Where stands that beauteous urn, the wizard's grave.

  XXIII
  "To tell at large the puissant acts and worth,
  And name of each who, figured in a sprite,
  Is present to our eyes before his birth,"
  Said sage Melissa to the damsel bright;
  "To tell the deeds which they shall act on earth,
  Were labour not to finish with the night.
  Hence I shall call few worthies of thy line,
  As time and fair occasion shall combine.

  XXIV
  "See yonder first-born of thy noble breed,
  Who well reflects thy fair and joyous face;
  He, first of thine and of Rogero's seed,
  Shall plant in Italy thy generous race.
  In him behold who shall distain the mead,
  And his good sword with blood of Pontier base;
  The mighty wrong chastised, and traitor's guilt,
  By whom his princely father's blood was spilt.

  XXV
  "By him King Desiderius shall be pressed,
  The valiant leader of the Lombard horde:
  And of the fiefs of Calaon and Este;
  For this imperial Charles shall make him lord.
  Hubert, thy grandson, comes behind; the best
  Of Italy, with arms and belted sword:
  Who shall defend the church from barbarous foes,
  And more than once assure her safe repose.

  XXVI
  "Alberto next, unconquered captain, see,
  Whose trophies shall so many fanes array.
  Hugh, the bold son, is with the sire, and he
  Shall conquer Milan, and the snakes display.
  Azo, that next approaching form shall be,
  And, his good brother dead, the Insubri sway.
  Lo! Albertazo! by whose rede undone,
  See Berengarius banished, and his son.

  XXVII
  "With him shall the imperial Otho join
  In wedlock worthily his daughter fair.
  And lo! another Hugh! O noble line!
  O! sire succeeded by an equal heir!
  He, thwarting with just cause their ill design,
  Shall thrash the Romans' pride who overbear;
  Shall from their hands the sovereign pontiff take,
  With the third Otho, and their leaguer break.

  XXVIII
  "See Fulke, who to his brother will convey
  All his Italian birth-right, and command
  To take a mighty dukedom far away
  From his fair home, in Almayn's northern land.
  There he the house of Saxony shall stay,
  And prop the ruin with his saving hand;
  This in his mother's right he shall possess,
  And with his progeny maintain and bless.

  XXIX
  "More famed for courtesy than warlike deed,
  Azo the second, he who next repairs!
  Bertoldo and Albertazo are his seed:
  And, lo! the father walkes between his heirs.
  By Parma's walls I see the Germans bleed,
  Their second Henry quelled; such trophy bears
  The one renowned in story's future page:
  The next shall wed Matilda, chaste and sage.

  XXX
  "His virtues shall deserve so fair a flower,
  (And in his age, I wot, no common grace)
  To hold the half of Italy in dower,
  With that descendent of first Henry's race.
  Rinaldo shall succeed him in his power,
  Pledge of Bertoldo's wedded love, and chase
  Fierce Frederick Barbarossa's hireling bands,
  Saving the church from his rapacious hands.

  XXXI
  "Another Azo rules Verona's town,
  With its fair fields; and two great chiefs this while
  (One wears the papal, one the imperial crown),
  The baron, Marquis of Ancona style.
  But to show all who rear the gonfalon
  Of the consistory, amid that file,
  Were task too long; as long to tell each deed
  Achieved for Rome by thy devoted seed.

  XXXII
  "See Fulke and Obyson, more Azos, Hughs!
  Both Henrys! — mark the father and his boy.
  Two Guelphs: the first fair Umbria's land subdues,
  And shall Spoleto's ducal crown enjoy.
  Behold the princely phantom that ensues,
  Shall turn fair Italy's long grief to joy;
  I speak of the fifth Azo of thy strain,
  By whom shall Ezelin be quelled and slain.

  XXXIII
  "Fierce Ezelin, that most inhuman lord,
  Who shall be deemed by men a child of hell.
  And work such evil, thinning with the sword
  Who in Ausonia's wasted cities dwell;
  Rome shall no more her Anthony record,
  Her Marius, Sylla, Nero, Cajus fell.
  And this fifth Azo shall to scathe and shame
  Put Frederick, second Caeser of the name.

  XXXIV
  "He, with his better sceptre well contented,
  Shall rule the city, seated by the streams,
  Where Phoebus to his plaintive lyre lamented
  The son, ill-trusted with the father's beams;
  Where Cygnus spread his pinions, and the scented
  Amber was wept, as fabling poet dreams.
  To him such honour shall the church decree;
  Fit guerdon of his works, and valour's fee.

  XXXV
  "But does no laurel for his brother twine,
  Aldobrandino, who will carry cheer
  To Rome (when Otho, with the Ghibelline,
  Into the troubled capital strikes fear),
  And make the Umbri and Piceni sign
  Their shame, and sack the cities far and near;
  Then hopeless to relieve the sacred hold,
  Sue to the neighbouring Florentine for gold:

  XXXVI
  "And trust a noble brother to his hands,
  Boasting no dearer pledge, the pact to bind:
  And next, victorious o'er the German bands,
  Give his triumphant ensigns to the wind:
  To the afflicted church restore her lands,
  And take due vengeance of Celano's kind.
  Then die, cut off in manhood's early flower,
  Beneath the banners of the Papal power?

  XXXVII
  "He, dying, leaves his brother Azo heir
  Of Pesaro and fair Ancona's reign,
  And all the cities which 'twixt Tronto are,
  And green Isauro's stream, from mount to main;
  With other heritage, more rich and rare,
  Greatness of mind, and faith without a strain.
  All else is Fortune's in this mortal state;
  But Virtue soars beyond her love and hate.

  XXXVIII
  "In good Rinaldo equal worth shall shine,
  (Such is the promise of his early fire)
  If such a hope of thine exalted line.
  Dark Fate and Fortune wreck not in their ire.
  Alas! from Naples in this distant shrine,
  Naples, where he is hostage for his sire,
  His dirge is heard: A stripling of thy race,
  Young Obyson, shall fill his grandsire's place.

  XXXIX
  "This lord to his dominion shall unite
  Gay Reggio, joined to Modena's bold land.
  And his redoubted valour lend such light,
  The willing people call him to command.
  Sixth of the name, his Azo rears upright
  The church's banner in his noble hand:
  Fair Adria's fief to him in dower shall bring
  The child of second Charles, Sicilia's king.

  XL
  "Behold in yonder friendly group agreed.
  Many fair princes of illustrious name;
  Obyson, Albert famed for pious deed,
  Aldobrandino, Nicholas the lame.
  But we may pass them by, for better speed,
  Faenza conquered, and their feats and fame;
  With Adria (better held and surer gain)
  Which gives her title to the neighbouring main:

  XLI
  "And that fair town, whose produce is the rose,
  The rose which gives it name in Grecian speech:
  That, too, which fishy marshes round enclose,
  And Po's two currents threat with double breach;
  Whose townsmen loath the lazy calm's repose,
  And pray that stormy waves may lash the beach.
  I pass, mid towns and towers, a countless store,
  Argenta, Lugo, and a thousand more.

  XLII
  "See Nicholas, whom in his tender age,
  The willing people shall elect their lord;
  He who shall laugh to scorn the civil rage
  Of the rebellious Tideus and his horde;
  Whose infantine delight shall be to wage
  The mimic fight, and sweat with spear and sword:
  And through the discipline such nurture yields,
  Shall flourish as the flower of martial fields.

  XLIII
  "By him rebellious plans are overthrown,
  And turned upon the rash contriver's head;
  And so each stratagem of warfare blown,
  That vainly shall the cunning toils be spread.
  To the third Otho this too late is known,
  Of Parma and the pleasant Reggio dread;
  Who shall by him be spoiled in sudden strife,
  Of his possessions and his wretched life.

  XLIV
  "And still the fair dominion shall increase,
  And without wrong its spreading bounds augment;
  Nor its glad subjects violate the peace,
  Unless provoked some outrage to resent,
  And hence its wealth and welfare shall not cease;
  And the Divine Disposer be content
  To let it flourish (such his heavenly love!)
  While the celestial spheres revolve above.

  XLV
  "Lo! Lionel! lo! Borse great and kind!
  First duke of thy fair race, his realm's delight;
  Who reigns secure, and shall more triumphs find
  In peace, than warlike princes win in fight.
  Who struggling Fury's hands shall tie behind
  Her back, and prison Mars, removed from sight.
  His fair endeavours bent to bless and stay
  The people, that his sovereign rule obey.

  XLVI
  "Lo! Hercules, who may reproach his neighbour,
  With foot half burnt, and halting gait and slow,
  That at Budrio, with protecting sabre,
  He saved his troops from fatal overthrow;
  Not that, for guerdon of his glorious labour,
  He should distress and vex him as a foe;
  Chased into Barco. It were hard to say,
  If most he shine in peace or martial fray.

  XLVII
  "Lucania, Puglia, and Calabria's strand,
  Shall with the rumour of his prowess ring:
  Where he shall strive in duel, hand to hand,
  And gain the praise of Catalonia's king.
  Him, with the wisest captains of the land
  His worth shall class; such fame his actions bring;
  And he the fief shall win like valiant knight,
  Which thirty years before was his of right.

  XLVIII
  "To him his grateful city owes a debt,
  The greatest subjects to their lord can owe;
  Not that he moves her from a marsh, to set
  Her stones, where Ceres' fruitful treasures grow.
  Nor that he shall enlarge her bounds, nor yet
  That he shall fence her walls against the foe;
  Nor that he theatre and dome repairs,
  And beautifies her streets and goodly squares;

  XLIX
  "Not that he keeps his lordship well defended
  From the winged lions' claws and fierce attacks;
  Nor that, when Gallic ravage is extended,
  And the invader all Italia sacks,
  His happy state alone is unoffended;
  Unharassed, and ungalled by toll or tax.
  Not for these blessings I recount, and more
  His grateful realm shall Hercules adore;

  L
  "So much as that from him shall spring a pair
  Of brothers, leagued no less by love than blood;
  Who shall be all that Leda's children were;
  The just Alphonso, Hippolite the good.
  And as each twin resigned the vital air
  His fellow to redeem from Stygian flood,
  So each of these would gladly spend his breath,
  And for his brother brave perpetual death.

  LI
  "In these two princes' excellent affection,
  Their happy lieges more assurance feel,
  Than if their noble town, for its protection,
  Were girded twice by Vulcan's works of steel.
  And so Alphonso in his good direction,
  Justice, with knowledge and with love, shall deal,
  Astrea shall appear returned from heaven,
  To this low earth to varying seasons given.

  LII
  "Well is it that his wisdom shines as bright
  As his good sire's, nor is his valour less;
  Since here usurping Venice arms for fight,
  And her full troops his scanty numbers press,
  There she (I know not if more justly hight
  Mother or stepmother) brings new distress;
  But, if a mother, scarce to him more mild
  Than Progue or Medea to her child.

  LIII
  "This chief, what time soever he shall go
  Forth with his faithful crew, by night or day,
  By water or by land, will shame the foe,
  With memorable rout and disarray;
  And this too late Romagna's sons shall know.
  Led against former friends in bloody fray,
  Who shall bedew the campaign with their blood,
  By Santern, Po, and Zaniolus' flood.

  LIV
  "This shall the Spaniard know, to his dismay,
  'Mid the same bounds, whom papal gold shall gain,
  Who shall from him Bastia win and slay,
  With cruel rage, her hapless Castellain,
  The city taken; but shall dearly pay;
  His crime, the town retrieved, and victor slain:
  Since in the rescued city not a groom
  Is left alive, to bear the news to Rome.

  LV
  " 'Tis he, who with his counsel and his lance,
  Shall win the honours of Romagna's plain,
  And open to the chivalry of France
  The victory over Julius, leagued with Spain.
  Paunch-deep in human blood shall steeds advance
  In that fierce strife, and struggle through the slain,
  'Mid crowded fields, which scarce a grace supply,
  Where Greek, Italian, Frank, and Spaniard die.

  LVI
  "Lo! who in priestly vesture clad, is crowned
  With purple hat, conferred in hallowed dome!
  'Tis he, the wise, the liberal, the renowned
  Hippolitus, great cardinal of Rome;
  Whose actions shall in every region sound,
  Where'er the honoured muse shall find a home:
  To whose glad era, by indulgent heaven,
  As to Augustus' is a Maro given.

  LVII
  "His deeds adorn his race, as from his car
  The glorious sun illumes the subject earth
  More than the silver moon or lesser star;
  So far all others he transcends in worth.
  I see this captain, ill bested for war,
  Go forth afflicted, and return in mirth:
  Backed by few foot, and fewer cavaliers,
  He homeward barks, and fifteen gallies steers.

  LVIII
  "Two Sigismonds, the first, the second, see;
  To these Alphonso's five good sons succeed;
  Whose glories spread o'er seas and land shall be.
  The first shall wed a maid of France's seed.
  This is the second Hercules; and he,
  (That you may know their every name and deed),
  Hippolitus; who with the light shall shine,
  Of his wise uncle, gilding all his line.

  LIX
  "Francis the third comes next; the other two
  Alphonsos both; — but yet again I say,
  Thy line through all its branches to pursue,
  Fair virgin, would too long protract thy stay;
  And Phoebus, many times, to mortal view,
  Would quench and light again the lamp of day.
  Then, with thy leave, 'tis time the pageant cease,
  And I dismiss the shades and hold my peace."

  LX
  So with the lady's leave the volume closed,
  Whose precepts to her will the spirits bent.
  And they, where Merlin's ancient bones reposed,
  From the first cavern disappearing, went.
  Then Bradamant her eager lips unclosed,
  Since the divine enchantress gave consent;
  "And who," she cried, "that pair of sorrowing mien,
  Alphonso and Hippolitus between?

  LXI
  "Sighing, those youths advanced amid the show,
  Their brows with shame and sorrow overcast,
  With downward look, and gait subdued and slow:
  I saw the brothers shun them as they passed."
  Melissa heard the dame with signs of woe,
  And thus, with streaming eyes, exclaim'd at last:
  "Ah! luckless youths, with vain illusions fed,
  Whither by wicked men's bad counsel led!

  LXII
  "O, worthy seed of Hercules the good,
  Let not their guilt beyond thy love prevail;
  Alas! the wretched pair are of thy blood,
  So many prevailing pity turn the scale!"
  And in a sad and softer tone pursued,
  "I will not further press the painful tale.
  Chew on fair fancy's food: Nor deem unmeet
  I will not with a bitter chase the sweet.

  LXIII
  "Soon as to-morrow's sun shall gild the skies
  With his first light, myself the way will show
  To where the wizard knight Rogero sties;
  And built with polished steel the ramparts glow:
  So long as through deep woods thy journey lies,
  Till, at the sea arrived, I shall bestow
  Such new instructions for the future way,
  That thou no more shalt need Melissa's stay."

  LXIV
  All night the maid reposes in the cave,
  And the best part in talk with Merlin spends;
  While with persuasive voice the wizard grave
  To her Rogero's honest love commends;
  Till from the vault goes forth that virgin brave,
  As through the sky the rising sun ascends,
  By path, long space obscure on either side,
  The weird woman still her faithful guide.

  LXV
  They gain a hidden glen, which heights inclose,
  And mountains inaccessible to man:
  And they all day toil on, without repose,
  Where precipices frowned and torrents ran.
  And (what may some diversion interpose)
  Sweet subjects of discourse together scan,
  In conference, which best might make appear
  The rugged road less dismal and severe.

  LXVI
  Of these the greater portion served to guide
  (Such the wise woman's scope) the warlike dame;
  And teach by what device might be untied
  Rogero's gyves, if stedfast were her flame.
  "If thou wert Mars himself, or Pallas," cried
  The sage Melissa, "though with thee there came
  More than King Charles or Agramant command,
  Against the wizard foe thou could'st not stand.

  LXVII
  "Besides that it is walled about with steel,
  And inexpugnable his tower, and high;
  Besides that his swift horse is taught to wheel,
  And caracol and gallop in mid sky,
  He bears a mortal shield of power to seal,
  As soon as 'tis exposed, the dazzled eye;
  And so invades each sense, the splendour shed,
  That he who sees the blaze remains as dead.

  LXVIII
  "And lest to shut thine eyes, thou should'st suppose
  Might serve, contending with the wizard knight;
  How would'st thou know, when both in combat close,
  When he strikes home, or when eschews the fight?
  But to escape the blaze which blinds his foes,
  And render vain each necromantic sleight,
  Have here a speedy mean which cannot miss;
  Nor can the world afford a way but this.

  LXIX
  "King Agramant of Africa a ring.
  Thieved from an Indian queen by subtle guiles,
  Has to a baron of his following
  Consigned, who now precedes us by few miles;
  Brunello he. Who wears the gift shall bring
  To nought all sorceries and magic wiles.
  In thefts and cheats Brunello is as well
  Instructed, as the sage in charm and spell.

  LXX
  "Brunello, he so practised and so sly
  As now I tell thee, by his king is sent,
  That he with aid of mother wit may try,
  And of this ring, well proved in like event,
  To take Rogero from the castle high;
  So has he boasted, by the wizard pent:
  And to his lord such promise did impart,
  Who has Rogero's presence most at heart.

  LXXI
  "That his escape to thee alone may owe,
  Not to the king, the youthful cavalier,
  How to release Rogero from his foe
  And his enchanted cage, prepare to hear.
  Three days along the shingle shalt thou go,
  Beside the sea, whose waves will soon appear;
  Thee the third day shall to a hostel bring,
  Where he shall come who bears the virtuous ring.

  LXXII
  "That thou may'st recognise the man, in height
  Less than six palms, observe one at this inn
  Of black and curly hair, the dwarfish wight!
  Beard overgrown about the cheek and chin;
  With shaggy brow, swoln eyes, and cloudy sight,
  A nose close flattened, and a sallow skin;
  To this, that I may make my sketch complete,
  Succinctly clad, like courier, goes the cheat.

  LXXIII
  "Thy conversation with this man shall turn
  Upon enchantment, spell, and mystic pact;
  And thou shalt, in thy talk, appear to yearn
  To prove the wizard's strength, as is the fact.
  But, lady, let him not thy knowledge learn
  Of his good ring, which mars all magic act:
  He shall propose to bring thee as a guide
  To the tall castle, whither thou would'st ride.

  LXXIV
  "Follow him close, and viewing (for a sign),
  Now near, the fortress of the enchanter hoar;
  Let no false pity there thy mind incline
  To stay the execution of my lore.
  Give him his death; but let him not divine
  Thy thought, nor grant him respite; for before
  Thine eyes, concealed by it, the caitiff slips
  If once he place the ring between his lips."

  LXXV
  Discoursing thus, they came upon the sea
  Where Garonne near fair Bordeaux meets the tide;
  Here, fellow travellers no more to be,
  Some natural tears they drop and then divide.
  Duke Aymon's child, who slumbers not till she
  Release her knight, holds on till even-tide:
  'Twas then the damsel at a hostel rested,
  Where Sir Brunello was already guested.

  LXXVI
  The maid Brunello knows as soon as found
  (So was his image on her mind impressed),
  And asks him whence he came, and whither bound;
  And he replies and lies, as he is pressed.
  The dame, who is forewarned, and knows her ground,
  Feigns too as well as he, and lies her best:
  And changes sex and sect, and name and land,
  And her quick eye oft glances at his hand;

  LXXVII
  Oft glances at his resless hand, in fear
  That he might undetected make some prize;
  Nor ever lets the knave approach too near,
  Well knowing his condition: In this guise
  The couple stand together, when they hear
  A sudden sound: but what that sound implies
  I, sir, shall tell hereafter with its cause;
  But first shall break my song with fitting pause.

CANTO 4

  ARGUMENT
  The old Atlantes suffers fatal wreck,
  Foiled by the ring, and young Rogero freed,
  Who soars in air till he appears a speck,
  Mounted upon the wizard's winged steed.
  Obediant to the royal Charles's beck,
  He who had followed Love's imperious lead,
  Rinaldo, disembarks on British land,
  And saves Genevra, doomed to stake and brand.

  I
  Though an ill mind appear in simulation,
  And, for the most, such quality offends;
  'Tis plain that this in many a situation
  Is found to further beneficial ends,
  And save from blame, and danger, and vexation;
  Since we converse not always with our friends,
  In this, less clear than clouded, mortal life,
  Beset with snares, and full of envious strife.

  II
  If after painful proof we scarcely find
  A real friend, through various chances sought,
  To whom we may communicate our mind,
  Keeping no watch upon our wandering thought;
  What should the young Rogero's lady kind
  Do with Brunello, not sincere, but fraught
  With treasons manifold, and false and tainted,
  As by the good enchantress truly painted?

  III
  She feigns as well with that deceitful scout;
  (Fitting with him the father of all lies)
  Watches his thievish hands in fear and doubt;
  And follows every motion with her eyes.
  When lo! a mighty noise is heard without!
  "O mighty mother! king of heaven!" she cries,
  "What thing is this I hear?" and quickly springs
  Towards the place from whence the larum rings,

  IV
  And sees the host and all his family,
  Where, one to door, and one to window slips,
  With eyes upturned and gazing at the sky,
  As if to witness comet or eclipse.
  And there the lady views, with wondering eye,
  What she had scarce believed from other's lips,
  A feathered courser, sailing through the rack,
  Who bore an armed knight upon his back.

  V
  Broad were his pinions, and of various hue;
  Seated between, a knight the saddle pressed,
  Clad in steel arms, which wide their radiance threw,
  His wonderous course directed to the west:
  There dropt among the mountains lost to view.
  And this was, as that host informed his guest,
  (And true the tale) a sorcerer, who made
  Now farther, now more near, his frequent raid.

  VI
  "He, sometimes towering, soars into the skies;
  Then seems, descending, but to skim the ground:
  And of all beauteous women makes a prize,
  Who, to their mischief, in these parts are found.
  Hence, whether in their own or other's eyes,
  Esteemed as fair, the wretched damsels round,
  (And all in fact the felon plunders) hine;
  As fearing of the sun to be descried.

  VII
  "A castle on the Pyrenean height
  The necromancer keeps, the work of spell."
  (The host relates) "of steel, so fair and bright,
  All nature cannot match the wonderous shell.
  There many cavaliers, to prove their might,
  Have gone, but none returned the tale to tell.
  So that I doubt, fair sir, the thief enthralls
  Or slays whoever in the encounter falls."

  VIII
  The watchful maid attends to every thing,
  Glad at her heart, and trusting to complete
  (What she shall compass by the virtuous ring)
  The downfall of the enchanter and his seat.
  Then to the host — "A guide I pray thee bring,
  Who better knows than me the thief's retreat.
  So burns my heart. (nor can I choose but go)
  To strive in battle with this wizard foe."

  IX
  "It shall not need," exclaimed the dwarfish Moor,
  "For I, myself, will serve you as a guide;
  Who have the road set down, with other lore,
  So that you shall rejoice with me to ride."
  He meant the ring, but further hint forbore;
  Lest dearly he the avowed should abide.
  And she to him — "Your guidance gives me pleasure."
  Meaning by this she hoped to win his treasure.

  X
  What useful was to say, she said, and what
  Might hurt her with the Saracen, concealed.
  Well suited to her ends, the host had got
  A palfrey, fitting for the road or field.
  She bought the steed, and as Aurora shot
  Her rosy rays, rode forth with spear and shield:
  And maid and courier through a valley wind,
  Brunello now before and now behind.

  XI
  From wood to wood, from mount to mountain hoar,
  They clomb a summit, which in cloudless sky
  Discovers France and Spain, and either shore.
  As from a peak of Apennine the eye
  May Tuscan and Sclavonian sea explore,
  There, whence we journey to Camaldoli.
  Then through a rugged path and painful wended,
  Which thence into a lowly vale descended.

  XII
  A rock from that deep valley's centre springs;
  Bright walls of steel about its summit go:
  And this as high that airy summit flings,
  As it leaves all the neighbouring cliffs below.
  He may not scale the height who has not wings,
  And vainly would each painful toil bestow.
  "Lo! where his prisoners!" Sir Brunello cries,
  "Ladies and cavaliers, the enchanter sties."

  XIII
  Scarped smooth upon four parts, the mountain bare
  Seemed fashioned with the plumb, by builder's skill
  Nor upon any side was path or stair,
  Which furnished man the means to climb the hill.
  The castle seemed the very nest and lair
  Of animal, supplied with plume and quill.
  And here the damsel knows 'tis time to slay
  The wily dwarf, and take the ring away.

  XIV
  But deems it foul, with blood of man to stain
  Unarmed and of so base a sort, her brand;
  For well, without his death, she may obtain
  The costly ring; and so suspends her hand.
  Brunello, off his guard, with little pain,
  She seized, and strongly bound with girding band:
  Then to a lofty fir made fast the string;
  But from his finger first withdrew the ring.

  XV
  Neither by tears, nor groans, nor sound of woe,
  To move the stedfast maid the dwarf had power:
  She down the rugged hill descended slow,
  Until she reached the plain beneath the tower.
  Then gave her bugle breath, the keep below,
  To call the castled wizard to the stower:
  And when the sound was finished, threatening cried,
  And called him to the combat and defied.

  XVI
  Not long within his gate the enchanter stayed,
  After he heard the voice and bugle ring.
  Against the foe, who seemed a man, arrayed
  In arms, with him the horse is on the wing.
  But his appearance well consoled the maid,
  Who, with small cause for fear, beheld him bring
  Nor mace, nor rested lance, nor bitting sword,
  Wherewith the corselet might be bruised or gored.

  XVII
  On his left arm alone his shield he took,
  Covered all o'er with silk of crimson hue;
  In his right-hand he held an open book,
  Whence, as the enchanter read, strange wonder grew:
  For often times, to sight, the lance he shook;
  And flinching eyelids could not hide the view;
  With tuck or mace he seemed to smite the foe:
  But sate aloof and had not struck a blow.

  XVIII
  No empty fiction wrought by magic lore,
  But natural was the steed the wizard pressed;
  For him a filly to griffin bore;
  Hight hippogryph. In wings and beak and crest,
  Formed like his sire, as in the feet before;
  But like the mare, his dam, in all the rest.
  Such on Riphaean hills, though rarely found,
  Are bred, beyond the frozen ocean's bound.

  XIX
  Drawn by enchantment from his distant lair,
  The wizard thought but how to tame the foal;
  And, in a month, instructed him to bear
  Saddle and bit, and gallop to the goal;
  And execute on earth or in mid air,
  All shifts of manege, course and caracole;
  He with such labour wrought. This only real,
  Where all the rest was hollow and ideal.

  XX
  This truth by him with fictions was combined,
  Whose sleight passed red for yellow, black for white:
  But all his vain enchantments could not blind
  The maid, whose virtuous ring assured her sight:
  Yet she her blows discharges at the wind;
  And spurring here and there prolongs the fight.
  So drove or wheeled her steed, and smote at nought,
  And practised all she had before been taught.

  XXI
  When she sometime had fought upon her horse,
  She from the courser on her feet descends:
  To compass and more freely put in force,
  As by the enchantress schooled, her wily ends.
  The wizard, to display his last resource,
  Unweeting the defence, towards her wends.
  He bares the shield, secure to blind his foe,
  And by the magic light, astonished, throw.

  XXII
  The shield might have been shown at first, nor he
  Needed to keep the cavaliers at bay;
  But that he loved some master-stroke to see,
  Achieved by lance or sword in single fray.
  As with the captive mouse, in sportive glee,
  The wily cat is sometimes seen to play;
  Till waxing wroth, or weary of her prize,
  She bites, and at a snap the prisoner dies.

  XXIII
  To cat and mouse, in battles fought before,
  I liken the magician and his foes;
  But the comparison holds good no more:
  For, with the ring, the maid against him goes;
  Firm and attentive still, and watching sore,
  Lest upon her the wizard should impose:
  And as she sees him bare the wondrous shield,
  Closes her eyes and falls upon the field.

  XXIV
  Not that the shining metal could offend,
  As wont those others, from its cover freed;
  But so the damsel did, to make descend
  The vain enchanter from his wondrous steed.
  Nor was in ought defeated of her end;
  For she no sooner on the grassy mead
  Had laid her head, than wheeling widely round,
  The flying courser pitched upon the ground.

  XXV
  Already cased again, the shield was hung,
  By the magician, at his sadle bow.
  He lights and seeks her, who like wolf among
  The bushes, couched in thicket, waits the roe;
  She without more delay from ambush sprung,
  As he drew near, and grappled fast the foe.
  That wretched man, the volume by whose aid
  He all his battles fought, on earth had laid:

  XXVI
  And ran to bind her with a chain, which he,
  Girt round about him for such a purpose, wore;
  Because he deemed she was no less to be
  Mastered and bound than those subdued before.
  Him hath the dame already flung; by me
  Excused with reason, if he strove not more.
  For fearful were the odds between that bold
  And puissant maid, and warrior weak and old!

  XXVII
  Intending to behead the fallen foe,
  She lifts her conquering hand; but in mid space,
  When she beholds his visage, stops the blow,
  As if disdaining a revenge so base.
  She sees in him, her prowess has laid low,
  A venerable sire, with sorrowing face;
  Whose hair and wrinkles speak him, to her guess,
  Of years six score and ten, or little less.

  XXVIII
  "Kill me, for love of God!" (afflicted sore,
  The old enchanter full of wrath did cry).
  But the victorious damsel was not more
  Averse to kill, than he was bent to die.
  To know who was the necromancer hoar
  The gentle lady had desire, and why
  The tower he in that savage place designed,
  Doing such outrage foul to all mankind.

  XXIX
  "Nor I, by malice moved, alas! poor wight,"
  (The weeping necromancer answer made,)
  "Built the fair castle on the rocky height,
  Nor yet for rapine ply the robber's trade;
  But only to redeem a gentle knight
  From danger sore and death, by love was swayed;
  Who, as the skies foreshow, in little season,
  Is doomed to die a Christian, and by treason.

  XXX
  "The sun beholds not 'twixt the poles, a Child
  So excellent as him, and passing fair;
  Who from his infancy, Rogero styled,
  (Atlantes I) was tutored by my care.
  By love of fame and evil stars beguiled,
  He follows into France Troyano's heir.
  Him, in my eyes, than son esteemed more dear,
  I seek to snatch from France and peril near.

  XXXI
  "I only built the beauteous keep to be
  Rogero's dungeon, safely harboured there;
  Who whilom was subdued in fight by me,
  As I to-day had hoped thyself to snare,
  And dames and knights, and more of high degree,
  Have to this tower conveyed, his lot to share,
  That with such partners of his prison pent,
  He might the loss of freedom less lament.

  XXXII
  "Save they should seek to break their dungeon's bound,
  I grant my inmates every other pleasure.
  For whatsoever in the world is found,
  Search its four quarters, in this keep I treasure;
  (Whatever heart can wish or tongue can sound)
  Cates, brave attire, game, sport, or mirthful measure.
  My field well sown, I well had reaped my grain.
  But that thy coming makes my labour vain.

  XXXIII
  "Ah! then unless thy heart less beauteous be
  Than thy sweet face, mar not my pious care;
  Take my steel buckler, this I give to thee,
  And take that horse, which flies so fast in air,
  Nor meddle with my castle more; or free
  One or two captive friends, the rest forbear —
  Or (for I crave but this) release them all,
  So that Rogero but remain my thrall.

  XXXIV
  "Or if disposed to take him from my sight,
  Before the youth be into France conveyed,
  Be pleased to free my miserable sprite
  From its now rotted bark, long decayed."
  "Prate as thou wilt, I shall restore the knight
  To liberty," replied the martial maid,
  "Nor offer shield and courser to resign,
  Which are not in thy gift, — already mine.

  XXXV
  "Nor were they thine to take or to bestow,
  Would it appear that such exchange were wise;
  Thou sayest to save him from what stars foreshow,
  And cheat an evil influence of the skies
  Rogero is confined. Thou canst not know,
  Or knowing, canst not change his destinies:
  For, if unknown an ill so near to thee,
  Far less mayest thou another's fate foresee.

  XXXVI
  "Seek not thy death from me; for the petition
  Is made in vain; but if for death thou sigh,
  Though the whole world refused the requisition,
  A soul resolved would find the means to die.
  But ope thy gates to give thy guests dismission
  Before thine hand the knot of life untie."
  So spake the scornful dame with angry mock,
  Speeding her captive still towards the rock.

  XXXVII
  Round by the conqueror with the chain he bore,
  Atlantes walked, the damsel following nigh,
  Who trusted not to the magician hoar,
  Although he seemed subdued in port and eye.
  Nor many paces went the pair, before
  They at the mountain's foot the cleft espy,
  With steps by which the rugged hill to round;
  And climb, till to the castle-gate they wound:

  XXXVIII
  Atlantes from the threshold, graved by skill,
  With characters and wondrous signs, upturned
  A virtuous stone, where, underneath the sill,
  Pots, with perpetual fire and secret, burned.
  The enchanter breaks them; and at once the hill
  To an inhospitable rock is turned.
  Nor wall nor tower on any side is seen,
  As if no castle there had ever been.

  XXXIX
  Then from the lady's toils the wizard clears
  His limbs, as thrush escapes the fowler's snare;
  With him as well his castle disappears,
  And leaves the prisoned troop in open air;
  From their gay lodgings, dames and cavaliers,
  Unhoused upon that desert, bleak and bare.
  And many at the freedom felt annoy,
  Which dispossessed them of such life of joy.

  XL
  There is Gradasso, there is Sacripant,
  There is Prasildo, noble cavalier,
  Who with Rinaldo came from the Levant;
  Iroldo, too, Prasildo's friend sincere.
  And there, at last, the lovely Bradamant
  Discerns Rogero, long desired and dear;
  Who, when assured it was that lady, flew
  With joyful cheer to greet the damsel true;

  XLI
  As her he prized before his eyes, his heart,
  His life; from that day cherished when she stood
  Uncasqued for him, and from the fight apart;
  And hence an arrow drank her virgin blood.
  'Twere long to tell who launched the cruel dart,
  And how the lovers wandered in the wood;
  Now guided by the sun, and now benighted,
  Here first since that encounter reunited.

  XLII
  Now that the stripling sees her here, and knows
  Alone she freed him from the wizard's nest,
  He deems, his bosom with such joy overflows,
  That he is singly fortunate and blest.
  Thither, where late the damsel conquered, goes
  The band, descending from the mountain's crest;
  And finds the hippogryph, who bore the shield,
  But in its case of crimson silk concealed.

  XLIII
  To take him by the rein the lady there
  Approached, and he stood fast till she was nigh,
  Then spread his pinions to the liquid air,
  And at short distance lit, half-mountain high:
  And, as she follows him with fruitless care,
  Not longer flight nor shorter will he try.
  'Tis thus the raven, on some sandy beach,
  Lures on the dog, and flits beyond his reach.

  XLIV
  Gradasso, Sacripant, Rogero, who
  With all those other knights below were met,
  Where'er, they hope he may return, pursue
  The beast, and up and down, each pass beset.
  He having led those others, as he flew,
  Often to rocky height, and bottom wet,
  Among the rocks of the moist valley dropt,
  And at short distance from Rogero stopt.

  XLV
  This was Atlantes the enchanter's deed,
  Whose pious wishes still directed were,
  To see Rogero from his peril freed:
  This was his only thought, his only care;
  Who for such end dispatched the winged steed,
  Him out of Europe by this sleight to bear.
  Rogero took his bridle, but in vain;
  For he was restive to the guiding rein.

  XLVI
  Now the bold youth from his Frontino flings
  (Frontino was his gentle courser hight)
  Then leaps on him who towers in air, and stings
  And goads his haughty heart with rowels bright.
  He runs a short career; then upward springs.
  And through mid ether soars a fairer flight
  Than hawk, from which the falconer plucks away
  In time the blinding hood, and points her prey.

  XLVII
  When her Rogero the fair dame discerned,
  In fearful peril, soar so high a strain,
  She stood long space amazed, ere she returned
  To her right judgement, and sound wits again:
  And what she erst of Ganymede had learned,
  Snatched up to heaven from his paternal reign,
  Feared might befall the stripling, born through air,
  As gentle as young Ganymede and fair.

  XLVIII
  She on Rogero looks with stedfast eyes
  As long as feeble sight can serve her use;
  And in her mind next tracks him through the skies,
  When sight in vain the cherished youth pursues.
  And still renewing tears, and groans, and sighs,
  Will not afford her sorrow peace or truce.
  After the knight had vanished from her view,
  Her eyes she on the good Frontino threw.

  XLIX
  And lest the courser should become the prey
  Of the first traveller, who passed the glen,
  Him will not leave; but thence to bear away
  Resolves, in trust to see his lord again.
  The griffin soars, nor can Rogero stay
  The flying courser; while, beneath his ken,
  Each peak and promontory sinks in guise,
  That he discerns not flat from mountain-rise.

  L
  After the hippogryph has won such height,
  That he is lessened to a point, he bends
  His course for where the sun, with sinking light,
  When he goes round the heavenly crab, descends;
  And shoots through air, like well-greased bark and light,
  Which through the sea a wind propitious sends.
  Him leave we on his way, who well shall speed,
  And turn we to Rinaldo in his need.

  LI
  Day after day the good Rinaldo fares,
  Forced by the wind, the spacious ocean through;
  Now westward borne, and now toward the Bears;
  For night and day the ceaseless tempest blew.
  Scotland at last her dusky coast uprears,
  And gives the Caledonian wood to view;
  Which, through its shadowy groves of ancient oak,
  Oft echoes to the champion's sturdy stroke.

  LII
  Through this roves many a famous cavalier,
  Renowned for feat in arms, of British strain;
  And throng from distant land, or country near,
  French, Norse, of German knights, a numerous train.
  Let none, save he be valiant, venture here,
  Where, seeking glory, death may be his gain.
  Here Arthur, Galahalt, and Gauvaine fought,
  And well Sir Launcelot and Tristram wrought.

  LIII
  And other worthies of the table round;
  (Of either table, whether old or new)
  Whose trophies yet remain upon the ground;
  Proof of their valiant feats, Rinaldo true
  Forthwith his armour and Bayardo found,
  And landed on the woody coast: The crew
  He bade, with all the haste they might, repair
  To Berwick's neighbouring port, and wait him there.

  LIV
  Without a guide or company he went
  Through that wide forest; choosing now this way,
  Now that, now other, as it might present
  Hope of adventurous quest or hard assay:
  And, ere the first day's circling sun is spent,
  The peer is guested in an abbey gray:
  Which spends much wealth in harbouring those who claim
  Its shelter, warlike knight or wandering dame.

  LV
  The monks and abbot to Mount Alban's peer
  A goodly welcome in their house accord;
  Who asked, but not before with savoury cheer
  He amply had his wearied strength restored,
  If in that tract, by errant cavalier,
  Often adventurous quest might be explored,
  In which a man might prove, by dangerous deed,
  If blame or glory were his fitting meed.

  LVI
  They answered, in those woods he might be sure
  Many and strange adventures would be found;
  But deeds, there wrought, were, like the place, obscure,
  And, for the greater part, not bruited round.
  "Then seek (they said) a worthier quest, secure
  Your works will not be buried underground.
  So that the glorious act achieved, as due,
  Fame may your peril and your pain pursue.

  LVII
  "And if you would your warlike worth assay,
  Prepare the worthiest enterprize to hear,
  That, e'er in times of old or present day,
  Was undertaken by a cavalier.
  Our monarch's daughter needs some friendly stay,
  Now sore bested, against a puissant peer:
  Lurcanio is the doughty baron's name,
  Who would bereave her both of life and fame.

  LVIII
  "Her he before her father does pursue,
  Perchance yet more for hatred than for right;
  And vouches, to a gallery she updrew
  A lover, seen by him, at dead of night.
  Hence death by fire will be the damsel's due,
  Such is our law, unless some champion fight
  On her behalf, and, ere a month go by,
  (Nigh spent) upon the accuser prove the lie.

  LIX
  "Our impious Scottish law, severe and dread,
  Wills, that a woman, whether low or high
  Her state, who takes a man into her bed,
  Except her husband, for the offence shall die.
  Nor is there hope of ransom for her head,
  Unless to her defence some warrior hie;
  And as her champion true, with spear and shield,
  Maintain her guiltless in the listed field.

  LX
  "The king, sore grieving for Geneura bright,
  For such is his unhappy daughter's name,
  Proclaims by town and city, that the knight
  Who shall deliver her from death and shame,
  He to the royal damsel will unite,
  With dower, well suited to a royal dame;
  So that the valiant warrior who has stood
  In her defence, be come of gentle blood.

  LXI
  "But if within a month no knight appear,
  Or coming, conquer not, the damsel dies.
  A like emrpize were worthier of your spear
  Than wandering through these woods in lowly guise.
  Besides, the eternal trophy you shall rear,
  You by the deed shall gain a glorious prize,
  The sweetest flower of all the ladies fair
  That betwixt Ind and Atlas' pillars are.

  LXII
  "And you with wealth and state shall guerdoned be,
  So that you evermore may live content,
  And the king's grace, if through your means he see
  His honour raised anew, now well-nigh spent.
  Besides, you by the laws of chivalry
  Are bound to venge the damsel foully shent.
  For she, whose life is by such treason sought,
  Is chaste and spotless in the common thought."

  LXIII
  Rinaldo mused awhile, and then replied,
  "And must a gentle damsel die by fire,
  Because she with a lover's wish complied,
  And quenched within her arms his fond desire?
  Cursed be the law by which the dame is tried!
  Cursed he who would permit a doom so dire!
  Perish (such fate were just!) who cruel proves!
  Not she that life bestows on him who loves.

  LXIV
  "Or true or false Geneura's tale of shame;
  If she her lover blessed I little heed:
  For this my praise the lady well might claim,
  If manifest were not that gentle deed.
  My every thought is turned to aid the dame.
  Grant me but one to guide my steps, and lead
  Quickly to where the foul accuser stands,
  I trust in God to loose Geneura's bands.

  LXV
  "I will not vouch her guiltless in my thought,
  In fear to warrant what is false; but I
  Boldly maintain, in such an act is nought
  For which the damsel should deserve to die;
  And ween unjust, or else of wit distraught,
  Who statutes framed of such severity;
  Which, as iniquitous, should be effaced,
  And with a new and better code replaced.

  LXVI
  "If like desire, and if an equal flame
  Move one and the other sex, who warmly press
  To that soft end of love (their goal the same)
  Which to the witless crowd seems rank excess;
  Say why shall woman — merit scathe or blame,
  Though lovers, one or more, she may caress;
  While man to sin with whom he will is free,
  And meets with praise, not mere impunity?

  LXVII
  "By this injurious law, unequal still,
  On woman is inflicted open wrong;
  And to demonstrate it a grievous ill,
  I trust in God, which has been borne too long."
  To good Rinaldo's sentence, with one will,
  Deeming their sires unjust, assents the throng,
  Their sires who such outrageous statute penned,
  And king, who might, but does not, this amend.

  LXVIII
  When the new dawn, with streaks of red and white,
  Broke in the east, and cleared the hemisphere,
  Rinaldo took his steed and armour bright:
  A squire that abbey furnished to the peer.
  With him, for many leagues and miles, the knight
  Pricked through the dismal forest dark and drear;
  While they towards the Scottish city ride,
  Where the poor damsel's cause is to be tried.

  LXIX
  Seeking their way to shorten as they wound,
  They to the wider track a path preferred;
  When echoing through the gloomy forest round,
  Loud lamentations nigh the road were heard.
  Towards a neighbouring vale, whence came the sound,
  This his Bayardo, that his hackney spurred;
  And viewed, between two grisly ruffians there,
  A girl, who seemed at distance passing fair.

  LXX
  But woe begone and weeping was the maid
  As ever damsel dame, or wight was seen:
  Hard by the barbarous twain prepared the blade,
  To deluge with that damsel's blood the green.
  She to delay her death awhile essayed,
  Until she pity moved with mournful mien.
  This when Rinaldo near approaching eyes,
  He thither drives with threats and furious cries.

  LXXI
  The ruffians turn their backs and take to flight
  As soon as they the distant succour view,
  And squat within a valley out of sight:
  Nor cares the good Rinaldo to pursue.
  To her approaching, sues Mount Alban's knight,
  To say what on her head such evil drew;
  And, to save time, commands his squire to stoop,
  And take the damsel on his horse's croup.

  LXXII
  And as the lady nearer he surveyed,
  Her wise behaviour marked and beauty's bloom;
  Though her fait countenance was all dismayed,
  And by the fear of death o'erspread with gloom.
  Again to know, the gentle knight essayed,
  Who had prepared for her so fell a doom;
  And she began to tell in humble tone
  What to another canto I postpone.

CANTO 5

  ARGUMENT
  Lurcanio, by a false report abused,
  Deemed by Geneura's fault his brother dead,
  Weening the faithless duke, whom she refused,
  Was taken by the damsel to her bed;
  And her before the king and peers accused:
  But to the session Ariodantes led,
  Strives with his brother in disguise. In season
  Rinaldo comes to venge the secret treason.

  I
  Among all other animals who prey
  On earth, or who unite in friendly wise,
  Whether they mix in peace or moody fray,
  No male offends his mate. In safety hies
  The she bear, matched with hers, through forest gray:
  The lioness beside the lion lies:
  Wolves, male and female, live in loving cheer;
  Nor gentle heifer dreads the wilful steer.

  II
  What Fury, what abominable Pest
  Such poison in the human heart has shed,
  That still 'twixt man and wife, with rage possessed,
  Injurious words and foul reproach are said?
  And blows and outrage hase their peace molest,
  And bitter tears still wash the genial bed;
  Not only watered by the tearful flood,
  But often bathed by senseless ire with blood?

  III
  Not simply a rank sinner, he appears
  To outrage nature, and his God to dare,
  Who his foul hand against a woman rears,
  Or of her head would harm a single hair.
  But who what drug the burning entrail sears,
  Or who for her would knife or noose prepare,
  No man appears to me, though such to sight
  He seem, but rather some infernal sprite.

  IV
  Such, and no other were those ruffians two,
  Whom good Rinaldo from the damsel scared,
  Conducted to these valleys out of view,
  That none might wot of her so foully snared.
  I ended where the damsel, fair of hue,
  To tell the occasion of her scathe prepared,
  To the good Paladin, who brought release;
  And in conclusion thus my story piece.

  V
  "Of direr deed than ever yet was done,"
  The gentle dame began, "Sir cavalier,
  In Thebes, Mycene, Argos, or upon
  Other more savage soil, prepare to hear;
  And I believe, that if the circling sun
  To these our Scottish shores approach less near
  Than other land, 'tis that he would eschew
  A foul ferocious race that shocks his view.

  VI
  "All times have shown that man has still pursued
  With hair, in every clime, his natural foe;
  But to deal death to those who seek our good
  Does from too ill and foul a nature flow.
  Now, that the truth be better understood,
  I shall from first to last the occasion show,
  Why in my tender years, against all right,
  Those caitiffs would have dome me foul despite.

  VII
  " 'Tis fitting you should know, that in the spring
  Of life, I to the palace made resort;
  There served long time the daughter of the king,
  And grew with her in growth, well placed in court.
  When cruel love, my fortune envying,
  Willed I should be his follower and his sport;
  And made, beyond each Scottish lord and knight,
  Albany's duke find favour in my sight.

  VIII
  "And for he seemed to cherish me above
  All mean; his love a love as ardent bred.
  We hear, indeed, and see, but do not prove
  Man's faith, nor is his bosom's purpose read.
  Believing still, and yielding to my love,
  I ceased not till I took him to my bed;
  Nor, of all chambers, in that evil hour,
  Marked I was in Geneura's priviest bower.

  IX
  "Where, hoarded, she with careful privacy
  Preserved whatever she esteemed most rare;
  There many times she slept. A gallery
  From thence projected into the open air.
  Here oft I made my lover climb to me,
  And (what he was to mount) a hempen stair,
  When him I to my longing arms would call,
  From the projecting balcony let fall.

  X
  "For here my passion I as often fed
  As good Geneura's absence made me bold;
  Who with the varying season changed her bed,
  To shun the burning heat or pinching cold,
  And Albany, unseen and safely sped;
  For, fronting a dismantled street, and old,
  Was built that portion of the palace bright;
  Nor any went that way by day or night.

  XI
  "So was for many days and months maintained
  By us, in secrecy, the amorous game;
  Still grew by love, and such new vigour gained,
  I in my inmost bosom felt the flame;
  And that he little loved, and deeply feigned
  Weened not, so was I blinded to my shame:
  Though, in a thousand certain signs betrayed,
  The faithless knight his base deceit bewrayed.

  XII
  "After some days, of fair Geneura he
  A suitor showed himself; I cannot say
  If this began before he sighed for me,
  Or, after, of this love he made assay:
  But judge, alas! with what supremacy
  He ruled my heart, how absolute his sway!
  Since this he owned, and thought no shame to move
  Me to assist him in his second love.

  XIII
  "Unlike what he bore me, he said, indeed,
  That was not true which he for her displayed;
  But so pretending love, he hoped to speed,
  And celebrate due spousals with the maid.
  He with her royal sire might well succeed,
  Were she consenting to the boon he prayed;
  For after our good king, for wealth and birth
  In all the realm, was none of equal worth.

  XIV
  "Me he persuades, if through my ministry
  He the king's son-in-law elected were,
  For I must know he next the king would be
  Advanced as high, as subject could repair,
  The merit should be mine, and ever he
  So great a benefit in mind would bear;
  And he would cherish me above his bride,
  And more than every other dame beside.

  XV
  "I, who to please him was entirely bent,
  Who never could or would gainsay his will,
  Upon those days alone enjoy content,
  When I find means his wishes to fulfil:
  And snatch at all occasions which present
  A mode, his praise and merits to instil:
  And for my lover with all labour strain,
  And industry, Geneura's love to gain.

  XVI
  "With all my heart, in furtherance of his suit,
  I wrought what could be done, God truly knows;
  But with Geneura this produced no friut,
  Nor her to grace my duke could I dispose.
  For that another love had taken root
  In her, whose every fond affection flows
  Towards a gentle knight of courteous lore,
  Who sought our Scotland from a distant shore:

  XVII
  "And with a brother, then right young, to stay
  In our king's court, came out of Italy:
  And there of knightly arms made such assay,
  Was none in Britain more approved than he;
  Prized by the king, who (no ignoble pay),
  Rewarding him like his nobility,
  Bestowed upon the youth, with liberal hand,
  Burghs, baronies, and castles, woods and land.

  XVIII
  "Dear to the monarch, to the daughter still
  This lord was dearer, Ariodantes hight.
  Her with affection might his valour fill;
  But knowledge of his love brought more delight.
  Nor old Vesuvius, nor Sicilia's hill,
  Nor Troy-town, ever, with a blaze so bright,
  Flamed, as with all his heart, the damsel learned,
  For love of her young Ariodantes burned.

  XIX
  "The passion which she bore the lord, preferred
  And loved with perfect truth and all her heart,
  Was the occassion I was still unheard;
  Nor hopeful answer would she e'er impart:
  And still the more my lover's suit I stirred,
  And to obtain his guerdon strove with art,
  Him she would censure still, and ever more
  Was strengthened in the hate she nursed before.

  XX
  "My wayward lover often I excite
  So vain and bootless an emprize to quit;
  Nor idly hope to turn her stedfast sprite,
  Too deeply with another passion smit;
  And make apparent to the Scottish knight,
  Ariodantes such a flame had lit
  In the young damsel's breast, that seas in flood
  Would not have cooled one whit her boiling blood.

  XXI
  "This Polinesso many times had heard
  From me (for such the Scottish baron's name)
  Well warranted by sight as well as word,
  How ill his love was cherished by the dame.
  To see another to himself preferred
  Not only quenched the haughty warrior's flame,
  But the fond love, which in his bosom burned
  Into despiteful rage and hatred turned.

  XXII
  "Between Geneura and her faithful knight
  Such discord and ill will he schemed to shed,
  And put betwixt the pair such foul despite.
  No time should heal the quarrel he had bred;
  Bringing such scandal on that damsel bright,
  The stain should cleave to her, alive or dead:
  Nor, bent to wreck her on this fatal shelf,
  Counselled with me, or other but himself.

  XXIII
  " `Dalinda mine,' he said, his project brewed,
  (Dalinda is my name) `you needs must know,
  That from the root although the trunk be hewed,
  Successive suckers many times will grow.
  Thus my unhappy passion is renewed,
  Tenacious still of life, and buds; although
  Cut off by ill success, with new increase:
  Nor, till I compass my desire, will cease.

  XXIV
  " `Nor hope of pleasure this so much has wrought,
  As that to compass my design would please;
  And, if not in effect, at least in thought
  To thrive, would interpose some little ease.
  Then every time your bower by me is sought,
  When in her bed Geneura slumbers, seize
  What she puts off, and be it still your care
  To dress yourself in all her daily wear.

  XXV
  " `Dispose your locks and deck yourself as she
  Goes decked; and, as you can, with cunning heed,
  Imitate her; then to the gallery
  You, furnished with the corded stair, shall speed:
  I shall ascend it in the phantasy
  That you are she, of whom you wear the weed:
  And hope, that putting on myself this cheat,
  I in short time shall quench my amorous heat.'

  XXVI
  "So said the knight; and I, who was distraught,
  And all beside myself, was not aware
  That the design, in which he help besought,
  Was manifestly but too foul a snare;
  And in Geneura's clothes disguised, as taught,
  Let down (so oft I used) the corded stair.
  Nor I the traitor's foul deceit perceived,
  Until the deadly mischief was achieved.

  XXVII
  "The duke, this while, to Ariodantes' ears
  Had these, or other words like these, addressed;
  (For leagued in friendship were the cavaliers,
  Till, rivals, they pursued this common quest)
  "I marvel, since you are of all my peers
  He, whom I must have honoured and caressed,
  And held in high regard, and cherished still,
  You should my benefits repay so ill.

  XXVIII
  " `I am assured you comprehend and know
  Mine and Geneura's love, and old accord;
  And, in legitimate espousal, how
  I am about to claim her from my lord:
  Then why disturb my suit, and why bestow
  Your heart on her who offers no reward?
  By Heaven, I should respect your claim and place,
  Were your condition mine, and mine your case.'

  XXIX
  " `And I,' cried Ariodantes, `marvel more'
  (In answer to the Scottish lord) `at you,
  Since I of her enamoured was, before
  That gentle damsel ever met your view;
  And know, you are assured how evermore
  We two have loved; — was never love more true —
  Are certain she alone would share my lot;
  And are as well assured she loves you not.

  XXX
  " `Why have not I from you the same respect,
  To which, for friendship past, you would pretend
  From me; and I should bear you in effect,
  If your hope stood more fair to gain its end?
  No less than you, to wed her I expect;
  And if your fortunes here my wealth transcend,
  As favoured of the king, as you, above
  You, am I happy in his daughter's love.'

  XXXI
  " `Of what a strange mistake,' (to him replied
  The duke) `your foolish passion is the root!
  You think yourself beloved; I, on my side,
  Believe the same; this try we by the fruit.
  You of your own proceeding nothing hide,
  And I will tell the secrets of my suit:
  And let the man who proves least favoured, yield,
  Provide himself elsewhere, and quit the field.

  XXXII
  " `I am prepared, if such your wish, to swear
  Nothing of what is told me to reveal;
  And will that you assure me, for your share,
  You shall what I recount as well conceal.'
  Uniting in the pact, the rival pair
  Their solemn vows upon the Bible seal:
  And when they had the mutual promise plighted,
  Ariodantes first his tale recited.

  XXXIII
  "Then plainly, and by simple facts averred,
  How with Geneura stood his suit, avows;
  And how, engaged by writing and by word,
  She swore she would not be another's spouse.
  How, if to him the Scottish king demurred,
  Virgin austerity she ever vows;
  And other bridal bond for aye eschewed,
  To pass her days in barren solitude.

  XXXIV
  "Then added, how he hoped by worth, which he
  Had more than once avouched, with knightly brand,
  And yet might vouch, to the prosperity
  And honour of the king, and of his land,
  To please so well that monarch, as to be
  By him accounted worthy of the hand
  Of his fair child, espoused with his consent:
  Since he in this her wishes would content.

  XXXV
  "Then so concludes — `I stand upon this ground,
  Nor I intruder fear, encroaching nigh;
  Nor seek I more; 'tis here my hopes I bound;
  Nor, striving for Geneura's love, would I
  Seek surer sign of it than what is found,
  By God allowed, in wedlock's lawful tie;
  And other suit were hopeless, am I sure,
  So excellent she is, and passing pure.'

  XXXVI
  "When Ariodantes had, with honest mind,
  Told what reward he hoped should quit his pain,
  False Polinesso, who before designed
  To make Geneura hateful to her swain,
  Began — `Alas! you yet are far behind
  My hopes, and shall confess your own are vain;
  And say, as I the root shall manifest
  Of my good fortune, I alone am blest.

  XXXVII
  " `With you Geneura feigns, nor pays nor prizes
  Your passion, which with hopes and words is fed;
  And, more than this, your foolish love despises:
  And this to me the damsel oft has said,
  Of hers I am assured; of no surmises,
  Vain, worthless words, or idle promise bred.
  And I to you the fact in trust reveal,
  Though this I should in better faith conceal.

  XXXVIII
  " `There passes not a month, but in that space
  Three nights, four, six, and often ten, the fair
  Receives me with that joy in her embrace,
  Which seems to second so the warmth we share.
  This you may witness, and shall judge the case;
  If empty hopes can with my bliss compare.
  Then since my happier fortune is above
  Your wishes, yield, and seek another love.'

  XXXIX
  " `This will I not believe,' in answer cried
  Ariodantes, `well assured you lie,
  And that you have this string of falsehoods tied,
  To scare me from the dear emprize I try.
  But charge, so passing foul, you shall abide,
  And vouch what you have said in arms; for I
  Not only on your tale place no reliance;
  But as a traitor hurl you my defiance.'

  XL
  "To him rejoined the duke, 'I ween 'twere ill
  To take the battle upon either part,
  Since surer mean our purpose may fulfill;
  And if it please, my proof I can impart.'
  Ariodantes trembled, and a chill
  Went through his inmost bones; and sick at heart,
  Had he in full believed his rival's boast,
  Would on the spot have yielded up the ghost.

  XLI
  "With wounded heart, and faltering voice, pale face,
  And mouth of gall, he answered, 'When I see
  Proofs of thy rare adventure, and the grace
  With which the fair Geneura honours thee,
  I promise to forego the fruitless chase
  Of one, to thee so kind, so cold to me.
  But think not that thy story shall avail,
  Unless my very eyes confirm the tale.'

  XLII
  " `To warn in due time shall be my care.'
  (Said Polinesso) and so went his way.
  Two nights were scarecly passed, ere his repair
  To the known bower was fixed for the assay.
  And, ready now to spring his secret snare,
  He sought his rival on the appointed day,
  And him to hide, the night ensuing, prayed
  I' the street, which none their habitation made.

  XLIII
  "And to the youth a station over-right
  The balcony, to which he clambered, shows.
  Ariodantes weened, this while, the knight
  Would him to seek that hidden place dispose,
  As one well suited to his fell despite,
  And, bent to take his life, this ambush chose,
  Under the false pretence to make him see
  What seemed a sheer impossibility.

  XLIV
  "To go the peer resolved, but in such guise,
  He should not be with vantage overlaid;
  And should he be assaulted by surprise,
  He need not be by fear of death dismay'd.
  He had a noble brother, bold and wise,
  First of the court in arms; and on his aid,
  Lurcanio hight, relied with better heart
  Than if ten others fought upon his part.

  XLV
  "He called him to his side, and willed him take
  His arms; and to the place at evening led:
  Yet not his secret purpose would be break;
  Nor this to him, or other would have read:
  Him a stone's throw removed he placed, and spake:
  ` — Come if thou hearest he cry,' the warrior said;
  `But as thou lovest me (whatsoe'er befall)
  Come not and move not, brother, till I call.'

  XLVI
  " `Doubt not' (the valiant brother said) `but go';
  And thither went that baron silently,
  And hid within the lonely house, and low,
  Over against my secret gallery.
  On the other side approached the fraudful foe,
  So pleased to work Geneura's infamy;
  And, while I nothing of the cheat divine,
  Beneath my bower renews the wonted sign.

  XLVII
  "And I in costly robe, in which were set
  Fair stripes of gold upon a snowy ground,
  My tresses gathered in a golden net,
  Shaded with tassels of vermillion round,
  Mimicking fashions, which were only met
  In fair Geneura, at the accustomed sound,
  The gallery mount, constructed in such mode,
  As upon every side my person showed.

  XLVIII
  "This while Lurcanio, either with a view
  To snares which might beset his brother's feet,
  Or with the common passion to pursue,
  And play the spy on other, where the street
  Was darkest, and its deepest shadows threw,
  Followed him softly to his dim retreat:
  And not ten paces from the knight aloof,
  Bestowed himself beneath the self same roof.

  XLIX
  "Suspecting nought, I seek the balcony,
  In the same habits which I mentioned, dressed;
  As more than once or twice (still happily)
  I did before; meanwhile the goodly vest
  Was in the moonlight clearly seen, and I,
  In aspect not unlike her, in the rest
  Resembling much Geneura's shape and cheer,
  One visage well another might appear.

  L
  "So much the more, that there was ample space
  Between the palace and the ruined row:
  Hence the two brothers, posted in that place,
  Were lightly cheated by the lying show.
  Now put yourself in his unhappy case,
  And figure what the wretched lover's woe,
  When Polinesso climbed the stair, which I
  Cast down to him, and scaled the gallery.

  LI
  "Arrived, my arms about his neck I throw,
  Weening that we unseen of others meet,
  And kiss his lips and face with loving show,
  As him I hitherto was wont to greet;
  And he assayed, with more than wonted glow,
  Me to caress, to mask his hollow cheat.
  Led to the shameful spectacle, aghast,
  That other, from afar, viewed all that passed,

  LII
  "And fell into such fit of deep despair,
  He there resolved to die; and, to that end,
  Planted the pommel of his falchion bare
  I' the ground, its point against his breast to bend.
  Lurcanio, who with marvel by that stair,
  Saw Polinesso to my bower ascend,
  But knew not who the wight, with ready speed
  Sprang forward, when he saw his brother's deed.

  LIII
  "And hindered him in that fell agony
  From turning his own hand against his breast.
  Had the good youth been later, or less nigh,
  To his assistance he had vainly pressed.
  Then, `Wretched brother, what insanity.'
  (He cried) `your better sense has dispossessed?
  Die for a woman! rather let her kind
  Be scattered like the mist before the wind!

  LIV
  " `Compass her death! 'tis well deserved; your own
  Reserve, as due to more illustrious fate.
  'Twas well to love, before her fraud was shown,
  But she, once loved, now more deserves your hate:
  Since, witnessed by your eyes, to you is known
  A wanton of what sort you worshipped late.
  Her fault before the Scottish king to attest,
  Reserve those arms you turn against your breast.'

  LV
  "Ariodantes, so surprised, forewent,
  Joined by his brother, the design in show;
  But resolute to die, in his intent
  Was little shaken: Rising thence to go,
  He bears away a heart not simply rent,
  But dead and withered with excess of woe:
  Yet better comfort to Lurcanio feigns,
  As if the rage were spent which fired his veins.

  LVI
  "The morn ensuing, without further say
  To his good brother, or to man beside,
  He from the city took his reckless way
  With deadly desperation for his guide;
  Nor, save the duke and knight, for many a day
  Was there who knew what moved the youth to ride:
  And in the palace, touching this event,
  And in the realm, was various sentiment.

  LVII
  "But eight days past or more, to Scotland's court
  A traveller came, and to Geneura he
  Related tidings of disastrous sort;
  That Ariodantes perished in the sea:
  Drowned of his own free will was the report,
  No wind to blame for the calamity!
  Since from a rock, which over ocean hung,
  Into the raging waves he headlong sprung;

  LVIII
  " `Who said, before he reached that frowning crest,
  To me, whom he encountered by the way,
  Come with me, that your tongue may manifest,
  And what betides me to Geneura say;
  And tell her, too, the occasion of the rest,
  Which you shall witness without more delay;
  In having seen too much, the occasion lies;
  Happy had I been born without these eyes!"

  LIX
  " `By chance, upon a promontory we
  Were standing, overright the Irish shore;
  When, speaking thus on that high headland, he
  Plunged from a rock amid the watery roar.
  I saw him leap, and left him in the sea;
  And, hurrying thence, to you the tidings bore.'
  Geneura stood amazed, her colour fled,
  And, at the fearful tale, remained half dead.

  LX
  "O God! what said, what did she, when alone,
  She on her faithful pillow layed her head!
  She beat her bosom, and she tore her gown,
  And in despite her golden tresses shed;
  Repeating often, in bewildered tone,
  The last sad words which Ariodantes said; —
  That the sole source of such despair, and such
  Disaster, was that he had seen too much.

  LXI
  "Wide was the rumour scattered that the peer
  Had slain himself for grief; nor was the cry
  By courtly dame, or courtly cavalier,
  Or by the monarch, heard with tearless eye.
  But, above all the rest, his brother dear
  Was whelmed with sorrow of so deep a dye,
  That, bent to follow him, he well nigh turned
  His hand against himself, like him he mourned.

  LXII
  "And many times repeating in his thought,
  It was Geneura who his brother slew,
  Who was to self-destruction moved by nought
  But her ill deed, which he was doomed to view,
  So on his mind the thirst of vengeance wrought,
  And so his grief his season overthrew;
  That he thought little, graced of each estate,
  To encounter king and people's common hate;

  LXIII
  "And, when the throng was fullest in the hall,
  Stood up before the Scottish king, and said,
  `Of having marred my brother's wits withal,
  Sir king, and him to his destruction led,
  Your daughter only can I guilty call:
  For in his inmost soul such sorrow bred
  The having seen her little chastity,
  He loathed existence, and preferred to die.

  LXIV
  " `He was her lover; and for his intent
  Was honest, this I seek not, I, to veil;
  And to deserve her by his valour meant
  Of thee, if faithful service might avail;
  But while he stood aloof, and dared but scent
  The blossoms, he beheld another scale,
  Scale the forbidden tree with happier boot,
  And bear away from him the wished-for fruit.'

  LXV
  "Then added, how into the gallery came
  Geneura, and how dropped the corded stair;
  And how into the chamber of the dame
  Had climbed a leman of that lady fair;
  Who, for disguise (he knew not hence his name),
  Had changed his habits, and concealed his hair;
  And, in conclusion, vowed that every word
  So said, he would avouch with lance and sword.

  LXVI
  "You may divine how grieves the sire, distraught
  With woe, when he the accusation hears:
  As well that what he never could have thought,
  He of his daughter learns with wondering ears,
  As that he knows, if succour be not brought
  By cavalier, that in her cause appears,
  Who may upon Lurcanio prove the lie,
  He cannot choose, but doom the maid to die.

  LXVII
  "I do not think our Scottish law to you
  Is yet unknown, which sentences to fire
  The miserable dame, or damsel, who
  Grants other than her wedded lord's desire.
  She dies, unless a champion, good and true,
  Arm on her side before a month expire;
  And her against the accuser base maintain
  Unmeriting such death, and free from stain.

  LXVIII
  "The king has made proclaim by town and tower,
  (For he believes her wronged, his child to free)
  Her he shall have to wife, with ample dower,
  Who saves the royal maid from infamy.
  But each to the other looks, and to this hour
  No champion yet, 'tis said, appears: for he,
  Lurcanio, is esteemed so fierce in fight,
  It seems as he were feared of every knight.

  "And evil Fate has willed her brother dear,
  Zerbino, is not here the foe to face;
  Since many months has roved the cavalier,
  Proving his matchless worth with spear and mace;
  For if the valiant champion were more near,
  (Such is his courage) or in any place,
  Whither in time the news might be conveyed,
  He would not fail to bear his sister aid.

  LXX
  "The king, mean time, who would the quest pursue,
  And by more certain proof than combat, try
  If the accuser's tale be false or true,
  And she deserve, or merit not, to die,
  Arrests some ladies of her retinue,
  That, as he weens, the fact can verify.
  Whence I foresaw, that if I taken were,
  Too certain risque the duke and I must share.

  LXXI
  "That very night I from the palace flee,
  And to the duke repair, escaped from court;
  And, were I taken, make him plainly see
  How much it either's safety would import:
  He praised, and bade me of good courage be,
  And, for his comfort, prayed me to resort
  To a strong castle which he held hard by;
  And gave me two to bear me company.

  LXXII
  "With what full proofs, sir stranger, you have heard,
  I of my love assured the Scottish peer;
  And clearly can discern, if so preferred,
  That lord was justly bound to hold me dear.
  Mark, in conclusion, what was my reward;
  The glorious meed of my great merit hear!
  And say if woman can expect to earn,
  However well she love, her love's return.

  LXXIII
  "For this perfidious, foul, ungrateful man,
  At length suspicious of my faith and zeal,
  And apprehending that his wily plan,
  In course of time, I haply might reveal,
  Feigned that meanwhile the monarch's anger ran
  Too high, he would withdraw me, and conceal
  Within a fortress of his own, where I
  (Such was his real end) was doomed to die.

  LXXIV
  "For secretly the duke enjoined the guide,
  Who with me through the gloomy forest went,
  The worthy guerdon of a faith so tried,
  To slay me; and had compassed his intent,
  But for your ready succour, when I cried.
  Behold! what wages love's poor slaves content."
  Thus to Rinaldo did Dalinda say,
  As they together still pursued their way.

  LXXV
  Above all other fortune, to the knight
  Was welcome to have found the gentle maid,
  Who the whole story of Geneura bright,
  And her unblemished innocence displayed;
  And, if he hoped, although accused with right,
  To furnish the afflicted damsel aid,
  Persuaded of the calumny's disproof,
  He with more courage warred in her behoof.

  LXXVI
  And for St. Andrew's town, with eager speed,
  Where was the king with all his family,
  And where the single fight, in listed mead,
  Upon his daughter's quarrel, was to be,
  The good Rinaldo pricked, nor spared his steed,
  Until, within an easy distance, he
  Now near the city, met a squire who brought
  More recent tidings than the damsel taught:

  LXXVII
  That thither had repaired a stranger knight,
  To combat in Geneura's quarrel bent,
  With ensigns strange, not known of living wight,
  Since ever close concealed the warrior went;
  Not, since he had been there, had bared to sight
  His visage, aye within his helmet pent:
  And that the very squire who with him came,
  Swore that he knew not what the stranger's name.

  LXXVIII
  Not far they ride before the walls appear,
  And now before the gate their coursers stand.
  To advance the sad Dalinda was in fear,
  Yet followed, trusting in Rinaldo's brand.
  The gate was shut, and to the porter near,
  What this implies Rinaldo makes demand:
  To him was said, the people, one and all,
  Were trooped to see a fight without the wall:

  LXXIX
  Beyond the city, fought upon accord,
  Between Lurcanio and a stranger knight;
  Where, on a spacious meadow's level sward,
  The pair already had begun the fight.
  The porter opened to Mount Alban's lord,
  And straight behind the peer the portal hight.
  Rinaldo through the empty city rode,
  But in a hostel first the dame bestowed:

  LXXX
  And will that she (he will not long delay
  To seek her there) till his return repose;
  And quickly to the lists pursued his way,
  Where the two made that fell exchange of blows,
  And strove and struggled yet in bloody fray.
  Lurcanio's heart with vengeful hatred glows
  Against Geneura; while that other knight
  As well maintains the quarrel for her right.

  LXXXI
  Six knights on foot within the palisade
  Stand covered with the corslet's iron case;
  Beneath the Duke of Albany arrayed,
  Borne on a puissant steed of noble race:
  Who there, as lord high-constable obeyed,
  Was keeper of the field and of the place,
  And joyed Geneura's peril to espy
  With swelling bosom and exulting eye.

  LXXXII
  Rinaldo pierces through the parted swarm,
  (So wide is felt the good Bayardo's sway,)
  And he who hears the courser come in storm,
  Halts not, in his desire to make him way:
  Above is seen Rinaldo's lofty form,
  The flower of those who mix in martial fray.
  He stops his horse before the monarch's chair,
  While all to hear the paladin repair.

  LXXXIII
  "Dread sir," to him the good Rinaldo said,
  "Let not the pair this combat longer ply;
  Since whichsoever of the two falls dead,
  Know, that you let him perish wrongfully:
  This thinks that he is right, and is misled,
  Vouches the false, and knows not 'tis a lie:
  Since that which brought his brother to his end,
  Moves him in causeless battle contend.

  LXXXIV
  "That, in pure gentleness, with little care
  If what he here maintains be wrong or right,
  Because he would preserve a maid so fair,
  Perils his person in the furious fight.
  To injured innocence I safety bear,
  And to the evil man its opposite.
  But first, for love of God, the battle stay;
  Then list, sir king, to what I shall display."

  LXXXV
  So moved the king the grave authority
  Of one who seemed so worthy, by his cheer,
  That he made sign the battle should not be
  Further continued then with sword or spear:
  To whom, together with his chivalry,
  And barons of the realm and others near
  Rinaldo all the treacherous plot displayed,
  Which Polinesso for Geneura layed.

  LXXXVI
  Next that he there in arms would testify
  The truth of what he vouched, the warrior cried.
  False Polinesso, called, with troubled eye,
  Stood forth, but daringly the tale denied.
  To him the good Rinaldo in reply;
  "By deeds be now the doubtful quarrel tried."
  The field was cleared, and, ready armed, the foes,
  Without more let, in deadly duel close.

  LXXXVII
  How was the hope to king and people dear,
  The proof might show Geneura innocent!
  All trust that God will make the treason clear,
  And show she was accused with foul intent:
  For Polinesso, greedy and severe,
  And proud was held, and false and fraudulent.
  So that none there, of all assembled, deemed
  It marvel, if the knight such fraud had schemed.

  LXXXVIII
  False Polinesso, with a mien distressed,
  A pallid cheek, and heart which thickly beat,
  At the third trumpet, laid his lance in rest;
  As well Rinaldo spurred the knight to meet,
  And levelled at his evil foeman's breast,
  Eager to finish at a single heat.
  Nor counter to his wish was the event;
  Since through the warrior half his weapon went.

  LXXXIX
  Him, through his breast, impaled upon the spear,
  More than six yards beyond his horse he bore.
  With speed alighted Mount Albano's peer,
  And, ere he rose, unlaced the helm he wore:
  But he for mercy prayed with humble cheer,
  Unfit to strive in joust or warfare more:
  And, before king and court, with faltering breath,
  Confessed the fraud which brought him to his death.

  XC
  He brings not his confession to a close,
  And pangs of death the failing accents drown:
  The prince, who ended saw his daughter's woes,
  Redeemed from death and scorn, her virtue shown,
  With more delight and rapture overflows,
  Than if he, having lost his kingly crown,
  Then saw it first upon his head replaced;
  So that he good Rinaldo singly graced.

  XCI
  And when, through his uplifted casque displaid,
  Features, well known before, the king descried,
  His thanks to God with lifted hands he paid,
  That he had deigned such succour to provide.
  That other cavalier, who bared his blade,
  Unknown of all, upon Geneura's side,
  And thither came from far, his aid to impart,
  Looked upon all that passed, and stood apart.

  XCII
  Him the good king entreated to declare
  His name, or, at the least, his visage shew;
  That he might grace him with such guerdon fair,
  As to his good intent was justly due.
  The stranger, after long and earnest prayer,
  Lifted to covering casque, and bared to view
  What in the ensuing canto will appear,
  If you are fain the history to hear.

CANTO 6

  ARGUMENT
  Ariodantes has, a worthy meed,
  With his loved bride, the fief of Albany.
  Meantime Rogero, on the flying steed,
  Arrives in false Alcina's empery:
  There from a myrtle-tree her every deed,
  A human myrtle hears, and treachery,
  And thence would go; but they who first withdrew
  Him from one strife, engage him in a new.

  I
  Wretched that evil man who lives in trust
  His secret sin is safe in his possession!
  Since, if nought else, the air, the very dust
  In which the crime is buried, makes confession,
  And oftentimes his guilt compels the unjust,
  Though sometime unarraigned in worldly session,
  To be his own accuser, and bewray,
  So God has willed, deeds hidden from the day.

  II
  The unhappy Polinesso hopes had nursed,
  Wholly his secret treason to conceal.
  By taking off Dalinda, who was versed
  In this, and only could the fact reveal;
  And adding thus a second to his first
  Offence, but hurried on the dread appeal,
  Which haply he had stunned, at least deferred;
  But he to self-destruction blindly spurred.

  III
  And forfeited estate, and life, and love
  Of friends at once, and honour, which was more.
  The cavalier unknown, I said above,
  Long of the king and court entreated sore,
  At length the covering helmet did remove,
  And showed a visage often seen before,
  The cherished face of Ariodantes true,
  Of late lamented weeping Scotland through;

  IV
  Ariodantes, whom with tearful eye
  His brother and Geneura wept as dead,
  And king, and people, and nobility:
  Such light his goodness and his valour shed.
  The pilgrim therefore might appear to lie
  In what he of the missing warrior said.
  Yet was it true that from a headland, he
  Had seen him plunge into the foaming sea.

  V
  But, as it oft befalls despairing wight,
  Who grisly Death desires till he appear;
  But loathes what he had sought, on nearer sight;
  So painful seems the cruel pass and drear.
  Thus, in the sea engulphed, the wretched knight,
  Repentant of his deed, was touched with fear;
  And, matchless both for spirit and for hand,
  Beat back the billows, and returned to land.

  VI
  And, now despising, as of folly bred,
  The fond desire which did to death impell,
  Thence, soaked and dripping wet, his way did tread,
  And halted at a hermit's humble cell:
  And housed within the holy father's shed,
  There secretly awhile designed to dwell;
  Till to his ears by rumour should be voiced,
  If his Geneura sorrowed or rejoiced.

  VII
  At first he heard that, through excess of woe,
  The miserable damsel well-nigh died:
  For so abroad the doleful tidings go,
  'Twas talked of in the island, far and wide:
  Far other proof than that deceitful show,
  Which to his cruel grief he thought he spied!
  And next against the fair Geneura heard
  Lurcanio to her sire his charge preferred:

  VIII
  Nor for his brother felt less enmity
  Than was the love he lately bore the maid;
  For he too foul, and full of cruelty,
  Esteemed the deed, although for him essayed;
  And, hearing after, in her jeopardy,
  That none appeared to lend the damsel aid,
  Because so puissant was Lurcanio's might,
  All dreaded an encounter with the knight,

  IX
  And that who well the youthful champion knew,
  Believed he was so wary and discreet,
  That, had what he related been untrue,
  He never would have risqued so rash a feat,
  — For this the greater part the fight eschew,
  Fearing in wrongful cause the knight to meet —
  Ariodantes (long his doubts are weighed)
  Will meet his brother in Geneura's aid.

  X
  "Alas! (he said) I cannot bear to see
  Thus by my cause the royal damsel die;
  My death too bitter and too dread would be,
  Did I, before my own, her death descry;
  For still my lady, my divinity
  She is; — the light and comfort of my eye.
  Her, right or wrong, I cannot choose but shield,
  And for her safety perish in the field.

  XI
  "I know I choose the wrong, and be it so!
  And in the cause shall die: nor this would move;
  But that, alas! my death, as well I know,
  Will such a lovely dame's destruction prove,
  To death I with one only comfort go,
  That, if her Polinesso bears her love,
  To her will manifestly be displayed,
  That hitherto he moves not in her aid.

  XII
  "And me, so wronged by her, the maid shall view
  Encounter death in her defence; and he,
  My brother, who such flames of discord blew,
  Shall pay the debt of vengeance due to me.
  For well I ween to make Lurcanio rue
  (Informed of the event) his cruelty,
  Who will have thought to venge me with his brand,
  And will have slain me with his very hand."

  XIII
  He, having this concluded in his thought,
  Made new provision of arms, steed, and shield;
  Black was the vest and buckler which he bought,
  Where green and yellow striped the sable field:
  By hazard found, with him a squire he brought,
  A stranger in that country; and, concealed
  (As is already told) the unhappy knight,
  Against his brother came, prepared for fight.

  XV
  And yielding to his natural inclination,
  And at the suit of all his court beside,
  And mostly at Rinaldo's instigation,
  Assigned the youth the damsel as his bride.
  Albany's duchy, now in sequestration,
  Late Polinesso's, who in duel died,
  Could not be forfeited in happier hour;
  Since this the monarch made his daughter's dower.

  XVI
  Rinaldo for Dalinda mercy won;
  Who from her fault's due punishment went free.
  She, satiate of the world, (and this to shun,
  The damsel so had vowed) to God will flee:
  And hence, in Denmark's land, to live a nun,
  Straight from her native Scotland sailed the sea.
  But it is time Rogero to pursue,
  Who on his courser posts the welkin through.

  XVII
  Although Rogero is of constant mind,
  Not from his cheek the wonted hues depart.
  I ween that faster than a leaf i' the wind
  Fluttered within his breast the stripling's heart.
  All Europe's region he had left behind
  In his swift course; and, issuing in that part,
  Passed by a mighty space, the southern sound
  Where great Alcides fixed the sailor's bound.

  XVIII
  That hippogryph, huge fowl, and strange to sight,
  Bears off the warrior with such rapid wing,
  He would have distanced, in his airy flight,
  The thunder bearing bird of Aether's king:
  Nor other living creature soars such height,
  Him in his mighty swiftness equalling.
  I scarce believe that bolt, or lightning flies,
  Or darts more swiftly from the parted skies.

  XIX
  When the huge bird his pinions long had plied,
  In a straight line, without one stoop or bend,
  He, tired of air, with sweeping wheel and wide,
  Began upon an island to descend;
  Like that fair region, whither, long unspied
  Of him, her wayward mood did long offend,
  Whilom in vain, through strange and secret sluice,
  Passed under sea the Virgin Arethuse.

  XX
  A more delightful place, wherever hurled
  Through the whole air, Rogero had not found:
  And, had he ranged the universal world,
  Would not have seen a lovelier in his round,
  Than that, where, wheeling wide, the courser furled
  His spreading wings, and lighted on the ground,
  'Mid cultivated plain, delicious hill,
  Moist meadow, shady bank, and crystal rill.

  XXI
  Small thickets, with the scented laurel gay,
  Cedar, and orange, full of fruit and flower,
  Myrtle and palm, with interwoven spray,
  Pleached in mixed modes, all lovely, form a bower;
  And, breaking with their shade the scorching ray,
  Make a cool shelter from the noontide hour.
  And nightingales among those branches wing
  Their flight, and safely amorous descants sing.

  XXII
  Amid red roses and white lilies there,
  Which the soft breezes freshen as they fly,
  Secure the cony haunts, and timid hare,
  And stag, with branching forehead broad and high.
  These, fearless of the hunter's dart or snare,
  Feed at their ease, or ruminating lie:
  While, swarming in those wilds, from tuft or steep
  Dun deer or nimble goat, disporting, leap.

  XXIII
  When the hyppogryph above the island hung,
  And had approached so nigh that landscape fair,
  That, if his rider from the saddle sprung,
  He might the leap with little danger dare,
  Rogero lit the grass and flowers among,
  But held him, lest he should remount the air:
  And to a myrtle, nigh the rolling brine,
  Made fast, between a bay-tree and a pine.

  XXIV
  And there, close-by where rose a bubbling fount,
  Begirt the fertile palm and cedar-tree,
  He drops the shield, the helmet from his front
  Uplifts, and, either hand from gauntlet free,
  Now turning to the beach, and now the mount,
  Catches the gales which blow from hill or sea,
  And, with a joyous murmur, lightly stir
  The lofty top of beech, or feathery fir:

  XXV
  And, now, to bathe his burning lips he strains;
  Now dabbles in the crystal wave, to chase
  The scorching heat which rages in his veins,
  Caught from the heavy corslet's burning case.
  Nor is it marvel if the burden pains;
  No ramble his in square or market-place!
  Three thousand miles, without repose, he went,
  And still, at speed, in ponderous armour pent.

  XXVI
  Meanwhile the courser by the myrtle's side,
  Whom he left stabled in the cool retreat,
  Started at something in the wood descried,
  Scared by I know not what; and in his heat
  So made the myrtle shake where he was tied,
  He brought a shower of leaves about his feet;
  He made the myrtle shake and foliage fall,
  But, struggling, could not loose himself withal.

  XXVII
  As in a stick to feed the chimney rent,
  Where scanty pith ill fills the narrow sheath,
  The vapour, in its little channel pent,
  Struggles, tormented by the fire beneath;
  And, till its prisoned fury find a vent,
  Is heard to hiss and bubble, sing and seethe:
  So the offended myrtle inly pined,
  Groaned, murmured, and at last unclosed its rind:

  XXVIII
  And hence a clear, intelligible speech
  Thus issued, with a melancholy sound;
  "If, as thy cheer and gentle presence teach,
  Thou courteous art and good, his reign unbound,
  Release me from this monster, I beseech:
  Griefs of my own inflict sufficient wound:
  Nor need I, compassed with such ills about,
  Other new pain to plague me from without."

  XXIX
  At the first sound, Rogero turns to see
  Whence came the voice, and, in unused surprise,
  Stands, when he finds it issues from the tree;
  And swiftly to remove the courser hies.
  Then, with a face suffused with crimson, he
  In answer to the groaning myrtle, cries;
  "Pardon! and, whatsoe'er thou art, be good,
  Spirit of man, or goddess of the wood!

  XXX
  "Unweeting of the wonderous prodigy
  Of spirit, pent beneath the knotty rind,
  To your fair leaf and living body I
  Have done this scathe and outrage undesigned.
  But not the less for that, to me reply,
  What art thou, who, in rugged case confined,
  Dost live and speak? And so may never hail
  From angry heaven your gentle boughs assail!

  XXXI
  "And if I now or ever the despite
  I did thee can repair, or aid impart,
  I, by that lady dear, my promise plight,
  Who in her keeping has my better part,
  To strive with word and deed, till thou requite
  The service done with praise and grateful heart."
  Rogero said; and, as he closed his suit,
  That gentle myrtle shook from top to root.

  XXXII
  Next drops were seen to stand upon the bark,
  As juice is sweated by the sapling-spray,
  New-severed, when it yields to flame and spark,
  Sometime in vain kept back and held at bay.
  And next the voice began: "My story dark,
  Forced by thy courteous deed, I shall display; —
  What once I was — by whom, through magic lore,
  Changed to a myrtle on the pleasant shore.

  XXXIII
  "A peer of France, Astolpho was my name,
  Whilom a paladin, sore feared in fight;
  Cousin I was to two of boundless fame,
  Orlando and Rinaldo. I by right
  Looked to all England's crown; my lawful claim
  After my royal father, Otho hight.
  More dames than one my beauty served to warm,
  And in conclusion wrought my single harm.

  XXXIV
  "Returning from those isles, whose eastern side
  The billows of the Indian ocean beat,
  Where good Rinaldo and more knights beside
  With me were pent in dark and hollow seat,
  Thence, rescued by illustrious Brava's pride,
  Whose prowess freed us from that dark retreat,
  Westward I fared along the sandy shores,
  On which the stormy north his fury pours.

  XXXV
  "Pursuing thus our rugged journey, we
  Came (such our evil doom) upon the strand,
  Where stood a mansion seated by the sea:
  Puissant Alcina owned the house and land.
  We found her, where, without her dwelling, she
  Had taken on the beach her lonely stand;
  And though nor hook nor sweeping net she bore,
  What fish she willed, at pleasure drew to shore.

  XXXVI
  "Thither swift dolphins gambol, inly stirred,
  And open-mouthed the cumbrous tunnies leap;
  Thither the seal or porpus' wallowing herd
  Troop at her bidding, roused from lazy sleep;
  Raven-fish, salmon, salpouth, at her word,
  And mullet hurry through the briny deep,
  With monstrous backs above the water, sail
  Ork, physeter, sea-serpent, shark, and whale.

  XXXVII
  "There we behold a mighty whale, of size
  The hugest yet in any water seen:
  More than eleven paces, to our eyes,
  His back appears above the surface green:
  And (for still firm and motionless he lies,
  And such the distance his two ends between)
  We all are cheated by the floating pile,
  And idly take the monster for an isle.

  XXXVIII
  "Alcina made the ready fish obey
  By simple words and by mere magic lore:
  Born with Morgana — but I cannot say
  If at one birth, or after or before.
  As soon as seen, my aspect pleased the fay;
  Who showed it in the countenance she wore:
  Then wrought with art, and compassed her intent,
  To part me from the friends with whom I went.

  XXXIX
  "She came towards us with a cheerful face,
  With graceful gestures, and a courteous air,
  And said: 'So you my lodging please to grace,
  Sir cavalier, and will with me repair,
  You shall behold the wonders of my chace,
  And note the different sorts of fish I snare;
  Shaggy or smooth, or clad in scales of light,
  And more in number than the stars of night:

  XL
  " 'And would you hear a mermaid sing so sweet,
  That the rude sea grows civil at her song,
  Wont at this hour her music to repeat,
  (With that she showed the monster huge and long
  — I said it seemed an island — as her seat)
  Pass with me where she sings the shoals among.'
  I, that was always wilful, at her wish,
  I now lament my rashness, climb the fish.

  XLI
  "To Dudon and Rinaldo's signal blind,
  I go, who warn me to misdoubt the fay.
  With laughing face Alcina mounts behind,
  Leaving the other two beside the bay.
  The obedient fish performs the task assigned,
  And through the yielding water works his way.
  Repentant of my deed, I curse the snare,
  Too far from land my folly to repair.

  XLII
  "To aid me swam Mount Alban's cavalier,
  And was nigh drowned amid the waves that rise;
  For a south-wind sprang up that, far and near,
  Covered with sudden darkness seas and skies.
  I know not after what befel the peer:
  This while Alcina to console me tries,
  And all that day, and night which followed, me
  Detained upon that monster in mid-sea,

  XLIII
  "Till to this isle we drifted with the morn,
  Of which Alcina keeps a mighty share;
  By that usurper from a sister torn,
  Who was her father's universal heir:
  For that she only was in wedlock born,
  And for those other two false sisters were
  (So well-instructed in the story, said
  One who rehearsed the tale) in incest bred.

  XLIV
  "As these are practised in iniquity,
  And full of every vice and evil art;
  So she, who ever lives in chastity,
  Wisely on better things has set her heart.
  Hence, leagued against her, in conspiracy,
  Those others are, to drive her from her part:
  And more than once their armies have o'errun
  Her realm, and towns above a hundred won.

  XLV
  "Nor at this hour a single span of ground
  Would Logistilla (such her name) command,
  But that a mountain here, and there a sound,
  Protects the remnant from the invading band.
  'Tis thus the mountain and the river bound
  England, and part it from the Scottish land.
  Yet will the sisters give their foe no rest,
  Till of her scanty remnant dispossest.

  XLVI
  "Because in wickedness and vice were bred
  The pair, as chaste and good they loath the dame.
  But, to return to what I lately said,
  And to relate how I a plant became;
  Me, full of love, the kind Alcina fed
  With full delights; nor I a weaker flame
  For her, within my burning heart did bear,
  Beholding her so courteous and so fair.

  XLVII
  "Clasped in her dainty limbs, and lapt in pleasure,
  I weened that I each separate good had won,
  Which to mankind is dealt in different measure,
  Little or more to some, and much to none.
  I evermore contemplated my treasure,
  Nor France nor aught beside I thought upon:
  In her my every fancy, every hope
  Centered and ended as their common scope.

  XLVIII
  "By her I was as much beloved, or more;
  Nor did Alcina now for other care;
  She left her every lover; for before,
  Others, in truth, the fairy's love did share:
  I was her close adviser evermore;
  And served by her, where they commanded were.
  With me she counselled, and to me referred;
  Nor, night nor day, to other spake a word.

  XLIX
  "Why touch my wounds, to aggravate my ill,
  And that, alas! without the hope of cure?
  Why thus the good possessed remember still,
  Amid the cruel penance I endure?
  When kindest I believed Alcina's will,
  And fondly deemed my happiness secure,
  From me the heart she gave, the fay withdrew,
  And yielded all her soul to love more new.

  L
  "Late I discerned her light and fickle bent,
  Still loving and unloving at a heat:
  Two months, I reigned not more, no sooner spent,
  Than a new paramour assumed my seat;
  And me, with scorn, she doomed to banishment,
  From her fair grace cast out. 'Tis then I weet
  I share a thousand lovers' fate, whom she
  Had to like pass reduced, all wrongfully.

  LI
  "And these, because they should not scatter bruits,
  Roaming the world, of her lascivious ways,
  She, up and down the fruitful soil, transmutes
  To olive, palm, or cedar, firs or bays.
  These, as you see me changed, Alcina roots;
  While this transformed into a monster strays;
  Another melts into a liquid rill;
  As suits that haughty fairy's wanton will.

  LII
  "Thou, too, that to this fatal isle art led
  By way unwonted and till now unknown,
  That some possessor of the fairy's bed,
  May be for thee transformed to wave or stone,
  Thou shalt, with more than mortal pleasures fed,
  Have from Alcina seigniory and throne;
  But shalt be sure to join the common flock,
  Transformed to beast or fountain, plant or rock.

  LIII
  "I willingly to thee this truth impart,
  Not that I hope with profit to advise:
  Yet 'twill be better, that informed, in part,
  Of her false ways, she harm not by surprise.
  Perhaps, as faces differ, and in art
  And wit of man an equal difference lies,
  Thou may'st some remedy perchance apply
  To the ill, which thousand others could not fly."

  LIV
  The good Rogero, who from Fame had learned
  That he was cousin to the dame he wooed,
  Lamented much the sad Astolpho, turned
  From his true form, to barren plant and rude:
  And for her love, for whom so sore he burned,
  Would gladly serve the stripling if he cou'd:
  But, witless how to give the wished relief,
  Might but console the unhappy warrior's grief.

  LV
  As best he could, he strove to soothe his pain;
  Then asked him, if to Logistil's retreat
  Were passage, whether over hill or plain;
  That he might so eschew Alcina's seat.
  — `There was a way', the myrtle said again,
  — `But rough with stones, and rugged to the feet —
  If he, some little further to the right,
  Would scale the Alpine mountain's very height:

  LVI
  `But that he must not think he shall pursue
  The intended journey far; since by the way
  He will encounter with a frequent crew,
  And fierce, who serve as rampart to the fay,
  That block the road against the stranger, who
  Would break her bounds, and the deserter stay.'
  Rogero thanked the tree for all, and taught,
  Departed thence with full instructions fraught.

  LVII
  The courser from the myrtle he untied,
  And by the bridle led behind him still;
  Nor would he, as before, the horse bestride,
  Lest he should bear him off against his will:
  He mused this while how safely he might find
  A passage to the land of Logistil;
  Firm in his purpose every nerve to strain,
  Lest empire over him Alcina gain.

  LVIII
  He to remount the steed, and through the air
  To spur him to a new career again
  Now thought; but doubted next, in fear to fare
  Worse on the courser, restive to the rein.
  "No, I will win by force the mountain stair,"
  Rogero said; (but the resolve was vain)
  Nor by the beach two miles his way pursued,
  Ere he Alcina's lovely city viewed.

  LIX
  A lofty wall at distance meets his eye
  Which girds a spacious town within its bound;
  It seems as if its summit touched the sky,
  And all appears like gold from top to ground.
  Here some one says it is but alchemy
  — And haply his opinion is unsound —
  And haply he more wittily divines:
  For me, I deem it gold because it shines.

  LX
  When he was nigh the city-walls, so bright,
  The world has not their equal, he the straight
  And spacious way deserts, the way which dight
  Across the plain, conducted to the gate;
  And by that safer road upon the right,
  Strains now against the mountain; but, in wait,
  Encounters soon the crowd of evil foes,
  Who furiously the Child's advance oppose.

  LXI
  Was never yet beheld a stranger band,
  Of mien more hideous, or more monstrous shape.
  Formed downwards from neck like men, he scanned
  Some with the head of cat, and some of ape;
  With hoof of goat that other stamped the sand;
  While some seemed centaurs, quick in fight and rape;
  Naked, or mantled in outlandish skin.
  These doting sires, those striplings bold in sin.

  LXII
  This gallops on a horse without a bit;
  This backs the sluggish ass, or bullock slow;
  These mounted on the croup of centaur sit:
  Those perched on eagle, crane, or estridge, go.
  Some male, some female, some hermaphrodit,
  These drain the cup and those the bungle blow.
  One bore a corded ladder, one a book;
  One a dull file, or bar of iron shook.

  LXIII
  The captain of this crew, which blocked the road,
  Appeared, with monstrous paunch and bloated face;
  Who a slow tortoise for a horse bestrode,
  That passing sluggishly with him did pace:
  Down looked, some here, some there, sustained the load,
  For he was drunk, and kept him in his place.
  Some wipe his brows and chin from sweat which ran,
  And others with their vests his visage fan.

  LXIV
  One, with a human shape and feet, his crest,
  Fashioned like hound, in neck and ears and head,
  Bayed at the gallant Child with angry quest,
  To turn him to the city whence he fled.
  "That will I never, while of strength possessed
  To brandish this," the good Rogero said:
  With that his trenchant faulchion he displayed,
  And pointed at him full the naked blade.

  LXV
  That monster would have smote him with a spear,
  But swiftly at his foe Rogero sprung,
  Thrust at his paunch, and drove his faulchion sheer
  Through his pierced back a palm; his buckler flung
  Before him, and next sallied there and here:
  But all too numerous was the wicked throng.
  Now grappled from behind, now punched before,
  He stands, and plies the crowd with warfare sore.

  LXVI
  One to the teeth, another to the breast,
  Of that foul race he cleft; since no one steeled
  In mail, his brows with covering helmet dressed,
  Or fought, secured by corslet or by shield;
  Yet is he so upon all quarters pressed,
  That it would need the Child, to clear the field,
  And to keep off the wicked crew which swarms,
  More than Briareus' hundred hands and arms.

  LXVII
  If he had thought the magic shield to show,
  (I speak of that the necromancer bore,
  Which dazed the sight of the astonished foe,
  Left at his saddle by the wizard Moor)
  That hideous band, in sudden overthrow,
  Blinded by this, had sunk the knight before.
  But haply he despised such mean as vile,
  And would prevail by valour, not by guile.

  LXVIII
  This as it may: the Child would meet his fate,
  Ere by so vile a band be prisoner led;
  When, lo! forth issuing from the city's gate,
  Whose wall appeared like shining gold I said,
  Two youthful dames, not born in low estate,
  If measured by their mien and garb, nor bred
  By swain, in early wants and troubles versed;
  But amid princely joys in palace nursed!

  LXIX
  On unicorn was seated either fair,
  A beast than spotless ermine yet more white;
  So lovely were the damsels, and so rare
  Their garb, and with such graceful fashion dight,
  That he who closely viewed the youthful pair,
  Would need a surer sense than mortal sight,
  To judge between the two. With such a mien
  Embodied Grace and Beauty would be seen.

  LXX
  Into the mead rode this and the other dame,
  Where the foul crew opposed the Child's retreat.
  The rabble scattered as the ladies came,
  Who with extended hand the warrior greet.
  He, with a kindling visage, red with shame,
  Thanked the two damsels for their gentle feat;
  And was content upon their will to wait,
  With them returning to that golden gate.

  LXXI
  Above, a cornice round the gateway goes,
  Somedeal projecting from the colonnade,
  In which is not a single part but glows,
  With rarest gems of India overlaid.
  Propp'd at four points, the portal did repose
  On columns of one solid diamond made.
  Whether what met the eye was false or true,
  Was never sight more fair or glad to view.

  LXXII
  Upon the sill and through the columns there,
  Ran young and wanton girls, in frolic sport;
  Who haply yet would have appeared more fair,
  Had they observed a woman's fitting port.
  All are arrayed in green, and garlands wear
  Of the fresh leaf. Him these in courteous sort,
  With many proffers and fair mien entice,
  And welcome to this opening Paradise:

  LXXIII
  For so with reason I this place may call,
  Where, it is my belief, that Love had birth;
  Where life is spent in festive game and ball,
  And still the passing moments fleet in mirth.
  Here hoary-headed Thought ne'er comes at all,
  Nor finds a place in any bosom. Dearth,
  Nor yet Discomfort, never enter here,
  Where Plenty fills her horn throughout the year.

  LXXIV
  Here, where with jovial and unclouded brow,
  Glad April seems to wear a constant smile,
  Troop boys and damsels: One, whose fountains flow,
  On the green margin sings in dulcet style;
  Others, the hill or tufted tree below,
  In dance, or no mean sport the hours beguile.
  While this, who shuns the revellers' noisy cheer,
  Tells his love sorrows in his comrade's ear.

  LXXV
  Above the laurel and pine-tree's height,
  Through the tall beech and shaggy fir-tree's spray,
  Sport little loves, with desultory flight:
  These, at their conquests made, rejoiced and gay:
  These, with the well-directed shaft, take sight
  At hearts, and those spread nets to catch their prey;
  One wets his arrows in the brook which winds,
  And one on whirling stone the weapon grinds.

  LXXVI
  To good Rogero here was brought a steed,
  Puissant and nimble, all of sorel hue;
  Who was caparisoned with costly weed,
  Broidered with gold, and jewels bright to view.
  That other winged horse, which, at his need,
  Obedient to the Moorish wizard flew,
  The friendly damsels to a youth consigned,
  Who led him at a slower pace behind.

  LXXVII
  That kindly pair who, by the wicked band
  Offended fate, had saved the youthful knight;
  The wicked crew, that did the Child withstand,
  When he the road had taken on his right,
  Exclaimed, "Fair sir, your works already scanned
  By us, who are instructed of your might,
  Embolden us, in our behalf, to pray
  You will the prowess of your arm assay.

  LXXVIII
  "We soon shall reach a bottom which divides
  The plain into two parts: A cruel dame
  A bridge maintains, which there a stream bestrides,
  Eriphila the savage beldam's name;
  Who cheats, and robs, and scathes, whoever rides
  To the other shore, a giantess in frame;
  Who has long poisonous teeth her prey to tear,
  And scratches with her talons like a bear.

  LXXIX
  "Besides that she infests the public way,
  Which else were free; she often ranging through
  All this fair garden, puts in disarray
  This thing or that. Of the assassin crew,
  That people who without the portal gay,
  Lately with brutal rage assaulted you,
  Many her sons, the whole her followers call,
  As greedy and inhospitable all."

  LXXX
  "For you not only her I would assail,
  But do a hundred battles, well content:
  Then of my person, where it may avail,
  Dispose (Rogero said) to you intent.
  Silver and land to conquer, plate or mail
  I swear not, I, in warlike cuirass pent;
  But to afford my aid to others due;
  And, most of all, to beauteous dames like you."

  LXXXI
  Their grateful thanks the ladies, worthily
  Bestowed on such a valiant champion, paid:
  They talking thus the bridge and river see,
  And at her post the haughty dame arraid
  (Sapphire and emerald decked the panoply)
  In arms of gold: but I awhile delay
  Till other strain the issue of the fray.

CANTO 7

  ARGUMENT
  Rogero, as directed by the pair,
  The giantess Eriphila o'erthrows.
  That done, he to Alcina's labyrinth, where
  More than one knight is tied and prisoned, goes.
  To him Melissa sage the secret snare,
  And remedy for that grave evil shows.
  Whence he, by her advised, with downcast eye,
  And full of shame forthwith resolves to fly.

  I
  The traveller, he, whom sea or mountain sunder
  From his own country, sees things strange and new;
  That the misjudging vulgar, which lies under
  The mist of ignorance, esteems untrue:
  Rejecting whatsoever is a wonder,
  Unless 'tis palpable and plain to view:
  Hence inexperience, as I know full well,
  Will yield small credence to the tale I tell.

  II
  But this be great or small, I know not why
  The rabble's silly judgement I should fear,
  Convinced you will not think the tale a lie,
  In whom the light of reason shines so clear.
  And hence to you it is I only try
  The fruit of my fatigues to render dear.
  I ended where Eriphila in guard
  Of bridge and stream was seen, the passage barred.

  III
  Of finest metal was her armour bright,
  With gems of many colours overspread,
  The tawny jacinth, yellow chyrsolite,
  The emerald green of hue, and ruby red.
  Mounted, but not on palfrey, for the fight:
  In place of that, she on a wolf had sped,
  Sped on a wolf towards the pass; and rode
  On sell, that rich beyond all custom showed.

  IV
  No larger wolf, I ween, Apulia roams;
  More huge than bull, unguided by her hand;
  Although upon no bit the monster foams,
  Docile, I know not why, to her command.
  The accursed Plague, arrayed in surcoat, comes
  Above her arms, in colour like the sand;
  That, saving in its dye, was of the sort
  Which bishops and which prelates wear at court.

  V
  The giantess's crest and shield appear,
  For ensign, decked with swoln and poisonous toad.
  Her the two damsels to the cavalier
  Before the bridge, prepared for battle, showed,
  Threatening, as wont to some, with levelled spear,
  To do the warrior scorn and bar the road.
  Bidding him turn, she to Rogero cries;
  A lance he takes, and threats her and defies.

  VI
  As quick and daring, the gigantic Pest
  Spurred her wolf, seated well for that dread game:
  In mid career she laid her lance in rest,
  And made earth quake beneath her as she came;
  Yet at the encounter fierce the champaign pressed;
  For underneath the casque, with stedfast aim,
  So hard Rogero smote her, that he bore
  The beldam backward six good yards and more:

  VII
  And came already with his lifted blade,
  Drawn for that end, to take her haughty head;
  To him an easy task; for she was laid
  Among the grass and flowers, like one that's dead.
  But, " 'Tis enough that she is vanquished," said
  The pair, "No further press thy vengeance dread.
  Sheathe, courteous cavalier, thy sword anew:
  Pass we the river, and our way pursue."

  VIII
  Along the path, which through a forest lay,
  Roughish and somedeal ill to beat, they went.
  Besides that strait and stony was the way,
  This, nigh directly, scaled a hill's ascent.
  But, when arrived upon the summit, they
  Issued upon a mead of vast extent;
  And a more pleasant palace on that green
  Beheld, and brighter than was ever seen.

  IX
  To meet the Child, Alcina, fair of hue,
  Advanced some way beyond the outer gate;
  And, girded by a gay and courtly crew,
  Rogero there received in lordly state:
  While all the rest to him such honour do,
  And on the knight with such deep reverence wait,
  They could not have displayed more zeal and love,
  Had Jove descended from the choirs above.

  X
  Not so much does the palace, fair to see,
  In riches other princely domes excel,
  As that the gentlest, fairest, company
  Which the whole world contains, within it dwell:
  Of either sex, with small variety
  Between, in youth and beauty matched as well:
  The fay alone exceeds the rest as far
  As the bright sun outshines each lesser star.

  XI
  Her shape is of such perfect symmetry,
  As best to feign the industrious painter knows,
  With long and knotted tresses; to the eye
  Not yellow gold with brighter lustre glows.
  Upon her tender cheek the mingled dye
  Is scattered, of the lily and the rose.
  Like ivory smooth, the forehead gay and round
  Fills up the space, and forms a fitting bound.

  XII
  Two black and slender arches rise above
  Two clear black eyes, say suns of radiant light,
  Which ever softly beam and slowly move;
  Round these appears to sport in frolic flight,
  Hence scattering all his shafts, the little Love,
  And seems to plunder hearts in open sight.
  Thence, through mid visage, does the nose descend,
  Where Envy finds not blemish to amend.

  XIII
  As if between two vales, which softly curl,
  The mouth with vermeil tint is seen to glow:
  Within are strung two rows of orient pearl,
  Which her delicious lips shut up or show.
  Of force to melt the heart of any churl,
  However rude, hence courteous accents flow:
  And here that gentle smile receives its birth,
  Which opes at will a paradise on earth.

  XIV
  Like milk the bosom, and the neck of snow;
  Round is the neck, and full and large the breast;
  Where, fresh and firm, two ivory apples grow,
  Which rise and fall, as, to the margin pressed
  By pleasant breeze, the billows come and go.
  Not prying Argus could discern the rest.
  Yet might the observing eye of things concealed
  Conjecture safely, from the charms revealed.

  XV
  To all her arms a just proportion bear,
  And a white hand is oftentimes descried,
  Which narrow is, and somedeal long; and where
  No knot appears, nor vein is signified.
  For finish of that stately shape and rare,
  A foot, neat, short, and round, beneath is spied.
  Angelic visions, creatures of the sky,
  Concealed beneath no covering veil can lie.

  XVI
  A springe is planted in Rogero's way,
  On all sides did she speak, smile, sing, or move;
  No wonder then the stripling was her prey,
  Who in the fairy saw such show of love.
  With him the guilt and falsehood little weigh,
  Of which the offended myrtle told above.
  Nor will he think that perfidy and guile
  Can be united with so sweet a smile.

  XVII
  No! he could now believe, by magic art,
  Astolpho well transformed upon the plain,
  For punishment of foul ungrateful heart,
  And haply meriting severer pain.
  And, as for all he heard him late impart,
  'Twas prompted by revenge, 'twas false and vain.
  By hate and malice was the sufferer stung,
  To blame and wound the fay with slanderous tongue.

  XVIII
  The beauteous lady whom he loved so well
  Is newly banished from his altered breast;
  For (such the magic of Alcina's spell)
  She every ancient passion dispossessed;
  And in his bosom, there alone to dwell,
  The image of her love, and self impressed.
  So witched, Rogero sure some grace deserves,
  If from his faith his frail affection swerves.

  XIX
  At board lyre, lute and harp of tuneful string,
  And other sounds, in mixed diversity,
  Made, round about, the joyous palace ring,
  With glorious concert and sweet harmony.
  Nor lacked there well-accorded voice to sing
  Of love, its passion and its ecstasy;
  Nor who, with rare inventions, choicely versed,
  Delightful fiction to the guests rehearsed.

  XX
  What table, spread by whatsoever heir
  Of Ninus, though triumphant were the board,
  Or what more famous and more costly, where
  Cleopatra feasted with the Latian lord,
  Could with this banquet's matchless joys compare,
  By the fond fairy for Rogero stored?
  I think not such a feast is spread above,
  Where Ganymede presents the cup to Jove.

  XXI
  They form a ring, the board and festive cheer
  Removed, and sitting, play a merry game:
  Each asks, still whispering in a neighbour's ear,
  What secret pleases best; to knight and dame
  A fair occasion, without let or fear,
  Their love, unheard of any, to proclaim.
  And in conclusion the two lovers plight
  Their word, to meet together on that night.

  XXII
  Soon, and much sooner than their wont, was ended
  The game at which the palace inmates play:
  When pages on the troop with torches tended,
  And with their radiance chased the night away.
  To seek his bed the paladin ascended,
  Girt with that goodly squadron, in a gay
  And airy bower, appointed for his rest,
  Mid all the others chosen as the best.

  XXIII
  And when of comfits and of cordial wine
  A fitting proffer has been made anew,
  The guests their bodies reverently incline,
  And to their bowers depart the courtly crew.
  He upon perfumed sheets, whose texture fine
  Seemed of Arachne's loom, his body threw:
  Hearkening this while with still attentive ears,
  If he the coming of the lady hears.

  XXIV
  At every movement heard on distant floor,
  Hoping 'twas her, Rogero raised his head:
  He thinks he hears; but it is heard no more,
  Then sighs at his mistake: ofttimes from bed
  He issued, and undid his chamber door,
  And peeped abroad, but still no better sped;
  And cursed a thousand times the hour that she
  So long retarded his felicity.

  XXV
  "Yes, now she comes," the stripling often said,
  And reckoned up the paces, as he lay,
  Which from her bower where haply to be made
  To that where he was waiting for the fay.
  These thoughts, and other thoughts as vain, he weighed
  Before she came, and restless at her stay,
  Often believed some hinderance, yet unscanned,
  Might interpose between the fruit and hand.

  XXVI
  At length, when dropping sweets the costly fay
  Had put some end to her perfumery,
  The time now come she need no more delay,
  Since all was hushed within the palace, she
  Stole from her bower alone, through secret way,
  And passed towards the chamber silently,
  Where on his couch the youthful cavalier
  Lay, with a heart long torn by Hope and Fear.

  XXVII
  When the successor of Astolpho spies
  Those smiling stars above him, at the sight
  A flame, like that of kindled sulphur, flies
  Through his full veins, as ravished by delight
  Out of himself; and now up to the eyes
  Plunged in a sea of bliss, he swims outright.
  He leaps from bed and folds her to his breast,
  Nor waits until the lady he undressed;

  XXVIII
  Though but in a light sendal clad, that she
  Wore in the place of farthingale or gown;
  Which o'er a shift of finest quality,
  And white, about her limbs the fay had thrown:
  The mantle yielded at his touch, as he
  Embraced her, and that veil remained alone,
  Which upon every side the damsel shows,
  More than clear glass the lily or the rose.

  XXIX
  The plant no closer does the ivy clip,
  With whose green boughs its stem is interlaced.
  Than those fond lovers, each from either's lip
  The balmy breath collecting, he embraced:
  Rich perfume this, whose like no seed or slip
  Bears in sweet Indian or Sabacan waste;
  While so to speak their joys is either fixed,
  That oftentimes those meeting lips are mixed.

  XXX
  These things were carried closely by the dame
  And youth, or if surmised, were never bruited;
  For silence seldom was a cause for blame,
  But oftener as a virtue well reputed.
  By those shrewd courtiers, conscious of his claim,
  Rogero is with proffers fair saluted:
  Worshipped of all those inmates, who fulfil
  In this the enamoured far, Alcina's will.

  XXXI
  No pleasure is omitted there; since they
  Alike are prisoners in Love's magic hall.
  They change their raiment twice or thrice a day,
  Now for this use, and now at other call.
  'Tis often feast, and always holiday;
  'Tis wrestling, tourney, pageant, bath, and ball.
  Now underneath a hill by fountain cast,
  They read the amorous lays of ages past:

  XXXII
  Now by glad hill, or through the shady dale,
  They hunt the fearful hare, and now they flush
  With busy dog, sagacious of the trail,
  Wild pheasant from the stubble-field or bush.
  Now where green junipers perfume the gale,
  Suspend the snare, or lime the fluttering thrush:
  And casting now for fish, with net or book,
  Disturb their secret haunts in pleasant brook.

  XXXIII
  Rogero revels there, in like delight,
  While Charles and Agramant are troubled sore.
  But not for him their story will I slight,
  Nor Bradamant forget: who evermore,
  Mid toilsome pain and care, her cherished knight,
  Ravished from her, did many a day deplore;
  Whom by unwonted ways, transported through
  Mid air, the damsel saw, nor whither knew.

  XXXIV
  Of her I speak before the royal pair,
  Who many days pursued her search in vain;
  By shadowy wood, or over champaign bare,
  By farm and city, and by hill and plain;
  But seeks her cherished friend with fruitless care,
  Divided by such space of land and main:
  Often she goes among the Paynim spears,
  Yet never aught of her Rogero hears.

  XXXV
  Of hundreds questioned, upon every side,
  Each day, no answer ever gives content.
  She roams from post to post, and far and wide
  Searches pavilion, lodging, booth, or rent,
  And this, mid foot or horsemen, unespied,
  May safely do, without impediment,
  Thanks to the ring, whose more than mortal aid,
  When in her mouth, conceals the vanished maid.

  XXXVI
  She cannot, will not, think that he is dead;
  Because the wreck of such a noble knight
  Would, from Hydaspes' distant waves have spread,
  To where the sun descends with westering light.
  She knows not what to think, nor whither sped,
  He roams in earth or air; yet, hapless wight,
  Him ever seeks, and for attendant train
  Has sobs and sighs, and every bitter pain.

  XXXVII
  At length to find the wondrous cave she thought,
  Where the prophetic homes of Merlin lie,
  And there lament herself until she wrought
  Upon the pitying marble to reply;
  For thence, if yet he lived would she be taught,
  Of this glad life to hard necessity
  Had yielded up; and, when she was possessed
  Of the seer's councils, would pursue the best.

  XXXVIII
  With this intention, Bradamant her way
  Directed thither, where in Poictier's wood
  The vocal tomb, containing Merlin's clay,
  Concealed in Alpine place and savage, stood.
  But that enchantress sage, who night and day
  Thought of the damsel, watchful for her good,
  She, I repeat, who taught her what should be
  In that fair grotto her posterity;

  XXXIX
  She who preserved her with protecting care,
  That same enchantress, still benign and wise,
  Who, knowing she a matchless race should bear
  Of men, or rather semi-deities,
  Spies daily what her thoughts and actions are,
  And lots for her each day, divining, tries; —
  She all Rogero's fortune knew, how freed;
  Then borne to India by the griffin steed:

  XL
  Him on that courser plainly she had eyed,
  Who would not the controlling rein obey;
  When, severed by such interval, he hied,
  Borne through the perilous, unwonted way:
  And knew that he sport, dance, and banquet plied,
  And lapt in idleness and pleasure lay;
  Nor memory of his lord nor of the dame,
  Once loved so well, preserved, not of his fame.

  XLI
  And thus such gentle knight ingloriously
  Would have consumed his fairest years and best,
  In long inaction, afterwards to be,
  Body and soul, destroyed; and that, possessed
  Alone by us in perpetuity.
  That flower, whose sweets outlive the fragile rest
  Which quickens man when he in earth is laid,
  Would have been plucked or severed in the blade.

  XLII
  But that enchantress kind, who with more care
  Than for himself he watched, still kept the knight,
  Designed to drag him, by rough road and bare,
  Towards true virtue, in his own despite;
  As often cunning leech will burn and pare
  The flesh, and poisonous drug employ aright:
  Who, though at first his cruel art offend,
  Is thanked, since he preserves us in the end.

  XLIII
  She, not like old Atlantes, rendered blind
  By the great love she to the stripling bore,
  Set not on gifting him with life her mind,
  As was the scope of that enchanter hoar;
  Who, reckless all of fame and praise declined,
  Wished length of days to his Rogero more
  Than that, to win a world's applause, the peer
  Should of his joyous life forego one year.

  XLIV
  By him he to Alcina's isle had been
  Dispatched, that in her palace he might dwell,
  Forgetting arms; and, as enchanter seen
  In magic and the use of every spell,
  The heart had fastened of that fairy-queen,
  Enamoured of the gentle youth, so well,
  That she the knot would never disengage,
  Though he should live to more than Nestor's age.

  XLV
  Returning now to her that well foreknew
  Whatever was to come to pass, I say
  She thither did her journey straight pursue,
  Where she met Aymon's daughter by the way
  Forlorn and wandering: Bradamant at view
  Of her enchantress, erst to grief a prey,
  Changes it all to hope: the other tells
  That with Alcina her Rogero dwells.

  XLVI
  Nigh dead the maid remains, in piteous guise,
  Hearing of him so far removed, and more
  Grieves that she danger to her love descries,
  Save this some strong and speedy cure restore.
  But her the enchantress comforts, and applies
  A salve where it was needed most, and swore
  That few short days should pass before anew
  Rogero should return to glad her view.

  XLVII
  "Since thou, an antidote to sorcery,
  Lady (she said), the virtuous ring dost wear,
  I have no doubt if to yon island I
  This, where thine every good is hidden, hear,
  To foil Alcina's wiles and witchery,
  And thence to bring thee back thy cherished care.
  This evening, early, will I hence away,
  And be in India by the break of day."

  XLVIII
  And told to her, the tale continuing,
  The mode which she was purposing to employ,
  From that effeminate, soft realm to bring
  Back into warlike France the cherished boy.
  Bradamant from her finger slipt the ring,
  Nor this alone would have bestowed with joy;
  But heart and life would at her feet have laid,
  If she had deemed they could Rogero aid.

  XLIX
  Giving the ring, her cause she recommends
  To her, and recommends Rogero more.
  Countless salutes by her the damsel sends,
  Then of Provence, departing seeks the shore.
  The enchantress to another quarter wends;
  And, for the execution of her lore,
  Conjures, that eve, a palfrey, by her art,
  With one foot red, black every other part.

  L
  Some Farfarello, or Alchino he,
  I think, whom in that form she raised from hell;
  And with loose hair, dishevelled horribly,
  Ungirt and barefoot, mounted in the sell.
  But, with wise caution, from her finger she
  Withdrew the ring, lest it should mar the spell:
  And then by him was with such swiftness born,
  She in Alcina's isle arrived at morn.

  LI
  Herself she changed with wonderful disguise,
  Adding a palm of stature to her height;
  And made her limbs of a proportioned size;
  And of the very measure seemed to sight,
  As was she deemed, the necromancer wise,
  Who with such care had reared the youthful knight.
  With long-descending beard she clothed her chin,
  And wrinkled o'er her front and other skin.

  LII
  To imitate his speech, and face, and cheer,
  She knew so well, that, by the youth descried,
  She might the sage Atlantes' self appear;
  Next hid, and watched so long, that she espied
  Upon a day (rare chance) the cavalier
  At length detached from his Alcina's side:
  For still, in motion or at rest, the fay
  Ill bore the youth should be an hour away.

  LIII
  Alone she finds him, fitting well her will,
  As he enjoys the pure and morning air
  Beside a brook, which trickled from a hill,
  Streaming towards a limpid lake and fair.
  His fine, soft garments, wove with cunning skill,
  All over, ease and wantonness declare;
  These with her hand, such subtle toil well taught,
  For him in silk and gold Alcina wrought.

  LIV
  About the stripling's neck, a splendid string
  Of gems, descending to mid-breast, is wound;
  On each once manly arm, now glittering
  With the bright hoop, a bracelet fair is bound.
  Pierced with golden wire, in form of ring,
  Is either ear; and from the yellow round
  Depend two precious pearls; not such the coast
  Of Araby or sumptuous India boast.

  LV
  Crisped into comely ringlets was his hair,
  Wet with the costliest odours and the best;
  And soft and amorous all his gestures were,
  Like one who does Valentian lady's hest.
  In him, beside his name, was nothing fair,
  And more than half corrupted all the rest.
  So was Rogero found, within that dell,
  Changed from his former self by potent spell.

  LVI
  Him in the figure of Atlantes sage
  She fronts, who bore the enchanter's borrowed cheer;
  With that grave face, and reverend with age,
  Which he was always wonted to revere;
  And with that eye, which in his pupillage,
  Beaming with wrath, he whilom so did fear.
  And sternly cries, "Is this the fruit at last
  Which pays my tedious pain and labour past?

  LVII
  "The marrow of the lion and the bear
  Didst thou for this thine early banquet make,
  And, trained by me, by cliff or cavern-lair,
  Strangle with infant hands the crested snake;
  Their claws from tiger and from panther tear,
  And tusks from living boar in tangled brake,
  That, bred in such a school, in thee should I
  Alcina's Atys or Adonis spy?

  LVIII
  "Is this the hope that stars, observed by me,
  Signs in conjunction, sacred fibres, bred;
  With what beside of dream or augury,
  And all those lots I but too deeply read,
  Which, while yet hanging at the breast, of thee,
  When these thy years should be accomplished, said,
  Thy fears should so be bruited far and near,
  Thou justly should be deemed without a peer?

  LIX
  "This does, in truth, a fair beginning show;
  A seed which, we may hope, will soon conceive
  A Julius, Alexander, Scipio.
  Who thee Alcina's bondsman could believe;
  And (for the world the shameful fact might know)
  That all should, manifest to sight, perceive
  Upon thy neck and arms the servile chains,
  Wherewith she at her will her captive trains?

  LX
  "If thine own single honour move not thee,
  And the high deeds which thou art called to do,
  Wherefore defraud thy fair posterity
  Of what, was oft predicted, should ensue?
  Alas! why seal the womb God willed should be
  Pregnant by thee with an illustrious crew,
  That far renowned, and more than human line,
  Destined the sun in glory to outshine?

  LXI
  "Forbid not of the noblest souls the birth,
  Formed in the ideas of Eternal Mind,
  Destined, from age to age, to visit earth,
  Sprung from thy stock, and clothed in corporal rind;
  The spring of thousand palms and festal mirth,
  Through which, to Italy with losses pined
  And wounds, thy good descendants shall restore
  The fame and honours she enjoyed of yore.

  LXII
  "Not only should these many souls have weight
  To bend thy purpose, holy souls, and bright,
  Which from thy fruitful tree shall vegetate;
  But, though alone, a single couple might
  Suffice a nobler feeling to create,
  Alphonso and his brother Hyppolite:
  Whose like was seldom witnessed to this time,
  Through all the paths whence men to virtue climb.

  LXIII
  "I was more wont to dwell upon this pair
  Than all the rest, of whom I prophesied;
  As well that these a greater part should bear
  In lofty virtues, as that I descried
  Thee, listening to my lore with closer care,
  Than to the tale of all thy seed beside.
  I saw thee joy that such a pair would shine
  Amid the heroes of thy noble line.

  LXIV
  "Say, what has she, thou makest thy fancy's queen,
  More than what other courtezans possess?
  Who of so many concubine has been;
  How used her lovers in the end to bless,
  Thou truly know'st: but that she may be seen
  Without disguise, and in her real dress,
  This ring, returning, on thy finger wear,
  And thou shalt see the dame, and mark how fair."

  LXV
  Abashed and mute, Rogero, listening,
  In vain to her reproof an answer sought:
  Who on his little finger put the ring,
  Whose virtue to himself the warrior brought.
  And such remorse and shame within him spring,
  When on his altered sense the change is wrought,
  A thousand fathoms deep he fain would lie
  Buried in earth, unseen of any eye.

  LXVI
  So speaking, to the natural shape she wore
  Before his eyes returned the magic dame;
  Nor old Atlantes' form was needed more,
  The good effect obtained for which she came.
  To tell you that which was not told before,
  Melissa was the sage enchantress' name:
  Who to Rogero now her purpose said,
  And told with what design she thither sped:

  LXVII
  Dispatched by her, who him in anxious pain
  Desires, nor longer can without him be,
  With the intent to loose him from the chain
  Wherewith he was begirt by sorcery;
  And had put on, more credence to obtain,
  Atlantes de Carena's form; but she,
  Seeing his health restored, now willed the youth,
  Through her should hear and see the very truth.

  LXVIII
  "That gentle lady who so loves thee, who
  Were well deserving love upon thy part;
  To whom (unless forgot, thou know'st how true
  The tale) thou debtor for thy freedom art,
  This ring, which can each magic spell undo,
  Sends for thy succour, and would send her heart,
  If with such virtue fraught, her heart could bring
  Thee safely in thy perils, like the ring."

  LXIX
  How Bradamant had loved, and loves, she says,
  Continuing to Rogero her relation;
  To this, her worth commends with fitting praise,
  Tempering in truth and fondness her narration;
  And still employs the choicest mode and phrase,
  Which fits one skilful in negociation,
  And on the false Alcina brings such hate,
  As on things horrible is wont to wait;

  LXX
  Brings hate on that which he so loved before;
  Nor let the tale astonish which you hear,
  For since his love was forced by magic lore,
  The ring the false enchantment served to clear.
  This too unmasked the charms Alcina wore,
  And made all false, from head to food, appear.
  None of her own, but borrowed, all he sees,
  And the once sparkling cup now drugged with lees.

  LXXI
  Like boy who somewhere his ripe fruit bestows,
  And next forgets the place where it is laid,
  Then, after many days, conducted goes
  By chance, where he the rich deposit made,
  And wonders that the hidden treasure shows,
  Not what it is, but rotten and decayed;
  And hates, and scorns, and loathes, with altered eyes,
  And throws away what he was used to prize.

  LXXII
  Rogero thus, when by Melissa's lore
  Advised, he to behold the fay returned,
  And that good ring of sovereign virtue wore,
  Which, on the finger placed, all spells o'erturned;
  For that fair damsel he had left before,
  To his surprise, so foul a dame discerned,
  That in this ample world, examined round,
  A hag so old and hideous is not found.

  LXXIII
  Pale, lean, and wrinkled was the face, and white,
  And thinly clothed with hair Alcina's head;
  Her stature reached not to six palms in height,
  And every tooth was gone; for she had led
  A longer life than ever mortal wight,
  Than Hecuba or she in Cuma bred;
  But thus by practice, to our age unknown,
  Appeared with youth and beauty not her own.

  LXXIV
  By art she gave herself the lovely look,
  Which had on many like Rogero wrought;
  But now the ring interpreted the book,
  Which secrets, hid for many ages, taught.
  No wonder then that he the dame forsook,
  And banished from his mind all further thought
  Of love for false Alcina, found in guise
  Which no new means of slippery fraud supplies.

  LXXV
  But, as Melissa counselled him, he wore
  His wonted semblance for a time, till he
  Was with his armour, many days before
  Laid by, again accoutred cap-a-pee.
  And, lest Alcina should his end explore,
  Feigned to make proof of his agility;
  Feigned to make proof if for his arms he were
  Too gross, long time unwont the mail to bear.

  LXXVI
  Next Balisarda to his flank he tied
  (For so Rogero's trenchant sword was hight),
  And took the wondrous buckler, which, espied,
  Not only dazzled the beholder's sight,
  But seemed, when its silk veil was drawn aside,
  As from the body if exhaled the sprite:
  In its close cover of red sendal hung,
  This at his neck the youthful warrior slung.

  LXXVII
  Provided thus, he to the stables came,
  And bade with bridle and with saddle dight
  A horse more black than pitch; for so the dame
  Counselled, well-taught how swift the steed and light.
  Him Rabicano those who know him name,
  And he the courser was, that with the knight,
  Who stands beside the sea, the breeze's sport,
  The whale of yore conducted to that port.

  LXXVIII
  The hippogryph he might have had at need,
  Who next below good Rabican was tied,
  But that the dame had cried to him, "Take heed,
  Thou know'st how ill that courser is to ride";
  And said the following day the winged steed
  'Twas her intention from that realm to guide,
  Where he should be instructed at his leisure,
  To rein and run him every where at pleasure:

  LXXIX
  Nor, if he took him not, would he suggest
  Suspicion of the intended flight: The peer
  This while performed Melissa's every hest,
  Who, still invisible, was at his ear.
  So feigning, from the wanton dome possessed
  By that old strumpet, rode the cavalier;
  And pricking forth drew near unto a gate,
  Whence the road led to Logistilla's state.

  LXXX
  Assaulting suddenly the guardian crew,
  He, sword in hand, the squadron set upon;
  This one he wounded, and that other slew,
  And, point by point made good, the drawbridge won:
  And ere of his escape Alcina knew,
  The gentle youth was far away and gone.
  My next shall tell his route, and how he gained
  At last the realm where Logistilla reigned.

CANTO 8

  ARGUMENT
  Rogero flies; Astolpho with the rest,
  To their true shape Melissa does restore;
  Rinaldo levies knights and squadrons, pressed
  In aid of Charles assaulted by the Moor:
  Angelica, by ruffians found at rest,
  Is offered to a monster on the shore.
  Orlando, warned in visions of his ill,
  Departs from Paris sore against his will.

  I
  How many enchantresses among us! oh,
  How many enchanters are there, though unknown!
  Who for their love make man or woman glow,
  Changing them into figures not their own.
  Nor this by help of spirits from below,
  Nor observation of the stars is done:
  But these on hearts with fraud and falsehood plot,
  Binding them with indissoluble knot.

  II
  Who with Angelica's, or rather who
  Were fortified with Reason's ring, would see
  Each countenance, exposed to open view,
  Unchanged by art or by hypocrisy.
  This now seems fair and good, whose borrowed hue
  Removed, would haply foul and evil be.
  Well was it for Rogero that he wore
  The virtuous ring which served the truth to explore!

  III
  Rogero, still dissembling, as I said,
  Armed, to the gate on Rabican did ride;
  Found the guard unprepared, not let his blade,
  Amid that crowd, hang idle at his side:
  He passed the bridge, and broke the palisade,
  Some slain, some maimed; then t'wards the forest hied;
  But on that road small space had measured yet,
  When he a servant of the fairy met.

  IV
  He on his fist a ravening falcon bore,
  Which he made fly for pastime every day;
  Now on the champaign, now upon the shore
  Of neighbouring pool, which teemed with certain prey;
  And rode a hack which simple housings wore,
  His faithful dog, companion of his way.
  He, marking well the haste with which he hies,
  Conjectures truly what Rogero flies.

  V
  Towards him came the knave, with semblance haught,
  Demanding whither in such haste he sped:
  To him the good Rogero answers naught.
  He hence assured more clearly that he fled,
  Within himself to stop the warrior thought,
  And thus, with his left arm extended, said:
  "What, if I suddenly thy purpose balk,
  And thou find no defence against this hawk?"

  VI
  Then flies his bird, who works so well his wing,
  Rabican cannot distance him in flight:
  The falconer from his back to ground did spring,
  And freed him from the bit which held him tight;
  Who seemed an arrow parted from the string,
  And terrible to foe, with kick and bite;
  While with such haste behind the servant came,
  He sped as moved by wind, or rather flame.

  VII
  Nor will the falconer's dog appear more slow;
  But hunts Rogero's courser, as in chace
  Of timid hare the pard is wont to go.
  Not to stand fast the warrior deems disgrace,
  And turns towards the swiftly-footed foe,
  Whom he sees wield a riding-wand, place
  Of other arms, to make his dog obey.
  Rogero scorns his faulchion to display.

  VIII
  The servant made at him, and smote him sore;
  The dog his left foot worried; while untied
  From rein, the lightened horse three times and more
  Lashed from the croup, nor missed his better side.
  The hawk, oft wheeling, with her talons tore
  The stripling, and his horse so terrified,
  The courser, by the whizzing sound dismayed,
  Little the guiding hand or spur obeyed.

  IX
  Constrained at length, his sword Rogero drew
  To clear the rabble, who his course delay;
  And in the animals' or villain's view
  Did now its point, and now its edge display.
  But with more hinderance and vexatious crew
  Swarm here and there, and wholly block the way;
  And that dishonour will ensue and loss,
  Rogero sees, if him they longer cross.

  X
  He knew each little that he longer stayed,
  Would bring the fay and followers on the trail;
  Already drums were beat, and trumpets brayed,
  And larum-bells rang loud in every vale.
  An act too foul it seemed to use his blade
  On dog, and knave unfenced with arms or mail:
  A better and shorter way it were
  The buckler, old Atlantes' work, to bare.

  XI
  He raised the crimson cloth in which he wore
  The wondrous shield, enclosed for many a day;
  Its beams, as proved a thousand times before,
  Work as they wont, when on the sight they play;
  Senseless the falconer tumbles on the moor;
  Drop dog and hackney; drop the pinions gay,
  Which poised in air the bird no longer keep:
  Then glad Rogero leaves a prey to sleep.

  XII
  In the mean time, Alcina, who had heard
  How he had forced the gate, and, in the press,
  Slaughtered a mighty number of her guard,
  Remained nigh dead, o'erwhelmed with her distress;
  She tore her vesture, and her visage marred,
  And cursed her want of wit and wariness.
  Then made forthwith her meiny sound to arms,
  And round herself arrayed her martial swarms.

  XIII
  Divided next, one squadron by the way
  Rogero took, she sent; the bands were two:
  She at the port embarked the next array,
  And straight to sea dispatched the warlike crew.
  With this good squadron went the desperate fay,
  And darked by loosened sails the billows grew;
  For so desire upon her bosom preyed,
  Of troops she left her city unpurveyed.

  XIV
  Without a guard she left her palace there,
  Which to Melissa, prompt her time to seize,
  To loose her vassals that in misery were,
  Afforded all convenience and full ease;
  — To range, at leisure, through the palace fair,
  And so examine all her witcheries;
  To raze the seal, burn images, and loose
  Or cancel hag-knot, rhomb, or magic noose.

  XV
  Thence, through the fields, fast hurrying from that dome,
  The former lovers changed, a mighty train,
  Some into rock or tree, to fountain some,
  Or beast, she made assume their shapes again:
  And these, when they anew are free to roam,
  Follow Rogero's footsteps to the reign
  Of Logistilla's sage; and from that bourn
  To Scythia, Persia, Greece, and Ind return.

  XVI
  They to their several homes dispatched, repair,
  Bound by a debt which never can be paid:
  The English duke, above the rest her care,
  Of these, was first in human form arrayed:
  For much his kindred and the courteous prayer
  Of good Rogero with Melissa weighed.
  Beside his prayers, the ring Rogero gave;
  That him she by its aid might better save.

  XVII
  Thus by Rogero's suit the enchantress won,
  To his first shape transformed the youthful peer;
  But good Melissa deemed that nought was done
  Save she restored his armour, and that spear
  Of gold, which whensoe'er at tilt he run,
  At the first touch unseated cavalier;
  Once Argalia's, next Astolpho's lance,
  And source of mighty fame to both in France.

  XVIII
  The sage Melissa found this spear of gold,
  Which now Alcina's magic palace graced,
  And other armour of the warrior bold,
  Of which he was in that ill dome uncased.
  She climbed the courser of the wizard old,
  And on the croup, at ease, Astolpho placed:
  And thus, an hour before Rogero came,
  Repaired to Logistilla, knight and dame.

  XIX
  Meantime, through rugged rocks, and shagged with thorn,
  Rogero wends, to seek the sober fay;
  From cliff to cliff, from path to path forlorn,
  A rugged, lone, inhospitable way:
  Till he, with labour huge oppressed and worn,
  Issued at noon upon a beach, that lay
  'Twixt sea and mountain, open to the south,
  Deserted, barren, bare, and parched with drouth.

  XX
  The sunbeams on the neighbouring mountain beat
  And glare, reflected from the glowing mass
  So fiercely, sand and air both boil with heat,
  In mode that might have more than melted glass.
  The birds are silent in their dim retreat,
  Nor any note is heard in wood or grass,
  Save the bough perched Cicala's wearying cry,
  Which deafens hill and dale, and sea and sky.

  XXI
  The heat and thirst and labour which he bore
  By that drear sandy way beside the sea,
  Along the unhabited and sunny shore,
  Were to Rogero grievous company:
  Bur for I may not still pursue this lore,
  Nor should you busied with one matter be,
  Rogero I abandon in this heat,
  For Scotland; to pursue Rinaldo's beat.

  XXII
  By king, by daughter, and by all degrees,
  To Sir Rinaldo was large welcome paid;
  And next the warrior, at his better ease,
  The occasion of his embassy displayed:
  That he from thence and England, subsidies
  Of men was seeking, for his monarch's aid,
  In Charles's name; and added, in his care,
  The justest reasons to support his prayer.

  XXIII
  The king made answer, that `without delay,
  Taxed to the utmost of his powers and might,
  His means at Charlemagne's disposal lay,
  For the honour of the empire and the right.
  And that, within few days, he in array
  Such horsemen, as he had in arms, would dight;
  And, save that he was now waxed old, would lead
  The expedition he was prayed to speed.

  XXIV
  `Nor like consideration would appear
  Worthy to stop him, but that he possessed
  A son, and for such charge that cavalier,
  Measured by wit and force, was worthiest.
  Though not within the kingdom was the peer,
  It was his hope (as he assured his guest)
  He would, while yet preparing was the band,
  Return, and find it mustered to his hand.'

  XXV
  So sent through all his realm, with expedition,
  His treasures, to levy men and steeds;
  And ships prepared, and warlike ammunition,
  And money, stores and victual for their needs.
  Meantime the good Rinaldo on his mission,
  Leaving the courteous king, to England speeds;
  He brought him on his way to Berwick's town,
  And was observed to weep when he was gone.

  XXVI
  The wind sat in the poop; Rinaldo good
  Embarked and bade farewell to all; the sheet
  Still loosening to the breeze, the skipper stood,
  Till where Thames' waters, waxing bitter, meet
  Salt ocean: wafted thence by tide of flood,
  Through a sure channel to fair London's seat,
  Safely the mariners their course explore,
  Making their way, with aid of sail and oar.

  XXVII
  The Emperor Charles, and he, King Otho grave,
  Who was with Charles, by siege in Paris pressed,
  A broad commission to Rinaldo brave,
  With letters to the Prince of Wales addressed,
  And countersigns had given, dispatched to crave
  What foot and horse were by the land possessed.
  The whole to be to Calais' port conveyed;
  That it to France and Charles might furnish aid.

  XXVIII
  The prince I speak of, who on Otho's throne
  Sate in his stead, the vacant helm to guide,
  Such honor did to Aymon's valiant son,
  He not with such his king had gratified.
  Next, all to good Rinaldo's wish, was done:
  Since for his martial bands on every side,
  In Britain, or the isles which round her lay,
  To assemble near the sea he fixed a day.

  XXIX
  But here, sir, it behoves me shift my ground,
  Like him that makes the sprightly viol ring,
  Who often changes chord and varies sound,
  And now a graver strikes, now sharper string:
  Thus I: — who did to good Rinaldo bound
  My tale, Angelica remembering;
  Late left, where saved from him by hasty flight,
  She had encountered with an anchorite.

  XXX
  Awhile I will pursue her story: I
  Told how the maid of him with earnest care,
  Enquired, how she towards the shore might fly:
  Who of the loathed Rinaldo has such fear,
  She dreads, unless she pass the sea, to die,
  As insecure in Europe, far or near,
  But she was by the hermit kept in play,
  Because he pleasure took with her to stay.

  XXXI
  His heart with love of that rare beauty glowed,
  And to his frozen marrow pierced the heat;
  Who, after, when he saw that she bestowed
  Small care on him, and thought but of retreat,
  His sluggish courser stung with many a goad;
  But with no better speed he plied his feet.
  Ill was his walk, and worse his trot; nor spur
  Could that dull beast to quicker motion stir:

  XXXII
  And for the flying maid was far before,
  And he would soon have ceased to track her steed,
  To the dark cave recurred the hermit hoar,
  And conjured up of fiends a grisly breed:
  One he selected out of many more,
  And first informed the demon of his need;
  Then in the palfrey bade him play his part,
  Who with the lady bore away his heart:

  XXXIII
  And as sagacious dog on mountain tried
  Before, accustomed fox and hare to chase,
  If he behold the quarry choose one side,
  The other takes, and seems to slight the trace:
  But at the turn arriving, is espied,
  Already tearing what he crossed to face;
  So her the hermit by a different road
  Will meet, wherever she her palfrey goad.

  XXXIV
  What was the friar's design I well surmise;
  And you shall know; but in another page.
  Angelica now slow, now faster, flies,
  Nought fearing this: while conjured by the sage,
  The demon covered in the courser lies;
  As fire sometimes will hide its smothered rage:
  Then blazes with devouring flame and heat,
  Unquenchable, and scarce allows retreat.

  XXXV
  After the flying maid had shaped her course
  By the great sea which laves the Gascon shore,
  Still keeping to the rippling waves her horse,
  Where best the moistened sand the palfrey bore,
  Him, plunged into the brine, the fiend perforce
  Dragged, till he swam amid the watery roar.
  Nor what to do the timid damsel knew,
  Save that she closer to her saddle grew.

  XXXVI
  She cannot, howsoe'er the rein she ply,
  Govern the horse, who swims the surge to meet:
  Her raiment she collects and holds it high;
  And, not to wet them, gathers up her feet.
  Her tresses, which the breeze still wantonly
  Assaults, dishevelled on her shoulders beat.
  The louder winds are hushed, perchance in duty,
  Intent, like ocean, on such sovereign beauty.

  XXXVII
  Landward in vain her eyes the damsel bright
  Directs, which water face and breast with tears,
  And ever sees, decreasing to her sight,
  The beach she left, which less and less appears.
  The courser, who was swimming to the right,
  After a mighty sweep, the lady bears
  To shore, where rock and cavern shag the brink,
  As night upon the land begins to sink.

  XXXVIII
  When in that desert, which but to descry
  Bred fear in the beholder, stood the maid
  Alone, as Phoebus, plunged in ocean, sky
  And nether earth had left obscured in shade;
  She paused in guise, which in uncertainty
  Might leave whoever had the form surveyed,
  If she were real woman, or some mock
  Resemblance, coloured in the living rock.

  XXXIX
  She, fixed and stupid in her wretchedness,
  Stood on the shifting sand, with ruffled hair:
  Her hands were joined, her lips were motionless,
  Her languid eyes upturned, as in despair,
  Accusing Him on high, that to distress
  And whelm her, all the fates united were.
  Astound she stood awhile; when grief found vent
  Through eyes and tongue, in tears and in lament.

  XL
  "Fortune what more remains, that thou on me
  Shouldst not now satiate thy revengeful thirst?
  What more (she said) can I bestow on thee
  Than, what thou seekest not, this life accurst?
  Thou wast in haste to snatch me from the sea,
  Where I had ended its sad days, immersed;
  Because to torture me with further ill
  Before I die, is yet thy cruel will.

  XLI
  "But what worse torment yet remains in store
  Beyond, I am unable to descry:
  By thee from my fair throne, which nevermore
  I hope to repossess, compelled to fly;
  I, what is worse, my honour lost deplore;
  For if I sinned not in effect, yet I
  Give matter by my wanderings to be stung
  For wantonness of every carping tongue.

  XLII
  "What other good is left to woman, who
  Has lost her honour, in this earthly ball?
  What profits it that, whether false or true,
  I am deemed beauteous, and am young withal?
  No thanks to heaven for such a gift are due,
  Whence on my head does every mischief fall.
  For this my brother Argalia died;
  To whom small help enchanted arms supplied:

  XLIII
  "For this the Tartar king, Sir Agrican,
  Subdued my sire, who Galaphron was hight,
  And of Catay in India was great khan;
  'Tis hence I am reduced to such a plight,
  That wandering evermore, I cannot scan
  At morn, where I shall lay my head at night.
  If thou hast ravished what thou couldst, wealth, friends,
  And honour; say what more thy wrath intends.

  XLIV
  "If death by drowning in the foaming sea
  Was not enough thy wrath to satiate,
  Send, if thou wilt, some beast to swallow me,
  So that he keep me not in pain! Thy hate
  Cannot devise a torment, so it be
  My death, but I shall thank thee for my fate!"
  Thus, with loud sobs, the weeping lady cried,
  When she beheld the hermit at her side.

  XLV
  From the extremest height the hermit hoar
  Of that high rock above her, had surveyed
  Angelica, arrived upon the shore,
  Beneath the cliff, afflicted and dismayed.
  He to that place had come six days before;
  For him by path untrod had fiend conveyed:
  And he approached her, feigning such a call
  As e'er Hilarion might have had, or Paul.

  XLVI
  When him, yet unagnized, she saw appear,
  The lady took some comfort, and laid by,
  Emboldened by degrees, her former fear:
  Though still her visage was of death-like dye.
  "Misericord! father," when the friar was near
  (She said), "for brought to evil pass am I."
  And told, still broke by sobs, in doleful tone,
  The story, to her hearer not unknown.

  XLVII
  To comfort her, some reasons full of grace,
  Sage and devout the approaching hermit cites:
  And, now his hand upon her moistened face,
  In speaking, now upon her bosom lights:
  As her, securer, next he would embrace:
  Him, kindling into pretty scorn, she smites
  With one hand on his breast, and backward throws,
  Then flushed with honest red, all over glows.

  XLVIII
  A pocket at the ancient's side was dight,
  Where he a cruise of virtuous liquor wore;
  And at those puissant eyes, whence flashed the light
  Of the most radiant torch Love ever bore,
  Threw from the flask a little drop, of might
  To make her sleep: upon the sandy shore
  Already the recumbent damsel lay,
  The greedy elder's unresisting prey.

  XLIX
  (Stanza XLIX untranslated by Rose)

  L
  (Lines 1-2 untranslated by Rose)
  Hopeless, at length upon the beach he lies,
  And by the maid, exhausted, falls asleep.
  When to torment him new misfortunes rise:
  Fortune does seldom any measure keep;
  Unused to cut her cruel pastime short,
  If she with mortal man is pleased to sport.

  LI
  It here behoves me, from the path I pressed,
  To turn awhile, ere I this case relate:
  In the great northern sea, towards the west,
  Green Ireland past, an isle is situate.
  Ebuda is its name, whose shores infest,
  (Its people wasted through the Godhead's hate)
  The hideous orc, and Proteus' other herd,
  By him against that race in vengeance stirred.

  LII
  Old stories, speak they falsely or aright,
  Tell how a puissant king this country swayed;
  Who had a daughter fair, so passing bright
  And lovely, 'twas no wonder if the maid,
  When on the beach she stood in Proteus' sight,
  Left him to burn amid the waves: surveyed,
  One day alone, upon that shore in-isled,
  Her he compressed, and quitted great with child.

  LIII
  This was sore torment to the sire, severe
  And impious more than all mankind; nor he,
  Such is the force of wrath, was moved to spare
  The maid, for reason or for piety.
  Nor, though he saw her pregnant, would forbear
  To execute his sentence suddenly;
  But bade together with the mother kill,
  Ere born, his grandchild, who had done no ill.

  LIV
  Sea-Proteus to his flocks' wide charge preferred
  By Neptune, of all ocean's rule possessed,
  Inflamed with ire, his lady's torment heard,
  And, against law and usage, to molest
  The land (no sluggard in his anger) stirred
  His monsters, orc and sea-calf, with the rest;
  Who waste not only herds, but human haunts,
  Farm-house and town, with their inhabitants:

  LV
  And girding them on every side, the rout
  Will often siege to walled cities lay;
  Where in long weariness and fearful doubt,
  The townsmen keep their watch by night and day.
  The fields they have abandoned all about,
  And for a remedy, their last assay,
  To the oracle, demanding counsel, fly,
  Which to the suppliant's prayer made this reply:

  LVI
  `That it behoved them find a damsel, who
  A form as beauteous as that other wore,
  To be to Proteus offered up, in lieu
  Of the fair lady, slain upon the shore:
  He, if he deems her an atonement due,
  Will keep the damsel, not disturb them more:
  If not, another they must still present,
  And so, till they the deity content.'

  LVII
  And this it was the cruel usage bred;
  That of the damsels held most fair of face,
  To Proteus every day should one be led.
  Till one should in the Godhead's sight find grace.
  The first and all those others slain, who fed,
  All a devouring orc, that kept his place
  Beside the port, what time into the main
  The remnant of the herd retired again.

  LVIII
  Were the old tale of Proteus' false or true,
  (For this, in sooth, I know not who can read)
  With such a clause was kept by that foul crew
  The savage, ancient statute, which decreed
  That woman's flesh the ravening monster, who
  For this came every day to land, should feed.
  Though to be woman is a crying ill
  In every place, 'tis here a greater still.

  LIX
  O wretched maids! whom 'mid that barbarous rout
  Ill-fortune on that wretched shore has tost!
  Who for the stranger damsel prowl about,
  Of her to make an impious holocaust;
  In that the more they slaughter from without,
  They less the number of their own exhaust.
  But since not always wind and waves convey
  Like plunder, upon every strand they prey.

  LX
  With frigate and with galley wont to roam,
  And other sort of barks they range the sea,
  And, as a solace to their martyrdom,
  From far, or from their isle's vicinity,
  Bear women off; with open rapine some,
  These bought by gold, and those by flattery:
  And, plundered from the different lands they scower,
  Crowd with their captives dungeon-cell and tower.

  LXI
  Keeping that region close aboard, to explore
  The island's lonely bank, a gallery creeps;
  Where, amid stubs upon the grassy shore,
  Angelica, unhappy damsel, sleeps.
  To wood and water there the sailor's moor,
  And from the bark, for this, a party leaps;
  And there that matchless flower of earthly charms
  Discovers in the holy father's arms.

  LXII
  Oh! prize too dear, oh! too illustrious prey!
  To glut so barbarous and so base a foe!
  Oh! cruel Fortune! who believed thy sway
  Was of such passing power in things below?
  That thou shouldst make a hideous monster's prey
  The beauty, for which Agrican did glow,
  Brought with half Scythia's people from the gates
  Of Caucasus, in Ind, to find their fates.

  LXIII
  The beauty, by Circassian Sacripant
  Preferred before his honour and his crown,
  The beauty which made Roland, Brava's vaunt,
  Sully his wholesome judgment and renown,
  The beauty which had moved the wide Levant,
  And awed, and turned its kingdom upside down,
  Now has not (thus deserted and unheard)
  One to assist it even with a word.

  LXIV
  Oppressed with heavy sleep upon the shore,
  The lovely virgin, ere awake, they chain:
  With her, the enchanter friar the pirates bore
  On board their ship, a sad, afflicted train.
  This done, they hoisted up their sail once more,
  And the bark made the fatal isle again,
  Where, till the lot shall of their prey dispose,
  Her prisoned in a castle they enclose.

  LXV
  But such her matchless beauty's power, the maid
  Was able that fierce crew to mollify,
  Who many days her cruel death delayed,
  Preserved until their last necessity;
  And while they damsels from without purveyed,
  Spared such angelic beauty: finally,
  The damsel to the monstrous orc they bring,
  The people all behind her sorrowing.

  LXVI
  Who shall relate the anguish, the lament
  And outcry which against the welkin knock?
  I marvel that the sea-shore was not rent,
  When she was placed upon the rugged block,
  Where, chained and void of help, the punishment
  Of loathsome death awaits her on the rock.
  This will not I, so sorrow moves me, say,
  Which makes me turn my rhymes another way;

  LXVII
  To find a verse of less lugubrious strain,
  Till I my wearied spirit shall restore:
  For not the squalid snake of mottled stain,
  Nor wild and whelpless tiger, angered more,
  Nor what of venomous, on burning plain,
  Creeps 'twixt the Red and the Atlantic shore,
  Could see the grisly sight, and choose but moan
  The damsel bound upon the naked stone.

  LXVIII
  Oh! if this chance to her Orlando, who
  Was gone to Paris-town to seek the maid,
  Had been reported! or those other two,
  Duped by a post, dispatched from Stygian shade,
  They would have tracked her heavenly footsteps through
  A thousand deaths, to bear the damsel aid.
  But had the warriors of her peril known.
  So far removed, for what would that have done?

  LXIX
  This while round Paris-walls the leaguer lay
  Of famed Troyano's son's besieging band,
  Reduced to such extremity one day,
  That it nigh fell into the foeman's hand;
  And, but that vows had virtue to allay
  The wrath of Heaven, whose waters drenched the land,
  That day had perished by the Moorish lance
  The holy empire and great name of France.

  LXX
  To the just plaint of aged Charlemagne
  The great Creator turned his eyes, and stayed
  The conflagration with a sudden rain,
  Which haply human art had not allayed.
  Wise whosoever seeketh, not in vain,
  His help, than whose there is no better aid!
  Well the religious king, to whom 'twas given,
  Knew that the saving succour was from Heaven.

  LXXI
  All night long counsel of his weary bed,
  Vexed with a ceaseless care, Orlando sought;
  Now here, now there, the restless fancy sped,
  Now turned, now seized, but never held the thought:
  As when, from sun or nightly planet shed,
  Clear water has the quivering radiance caught,
  The flashes through the spacious mansion fly,
  With reaching leap, right, left, and low, and high.

  LXXII
  To memory now returned his lady gay,
  She rather ne'er was banished from his breast;
  And fanned the secret fire, which through the day
  (Now kindled into flame) had seemed at rest;
  That in his escort even from Catay
  Or farthest Ind, had journeyed to the west;
  There lost: Of whom he had discerned no token
  Since Charles's power near Bordeaux-town was broken.

  LXXIII
  This in Orlando moved great grief, and he
  Lay thinking on his folly past in vain:
  "My heart," he said, "oh! how unworthily
  I bore myself! and out, alas! what pain,
  (When night and day I might have dwelt with thee,
  Since this thou didst not in thy grace disdain.)
  To have let them place thee in old Namus' hand!
  Witless a wrong so crying to withstand.

  LXXIV
  "Might I not have excused myself? — The king
  Had not perchance gainsaid my better right —
  Of if he had gainsaid my reasoning,
  Who would have taken thee in my despite?
  Why not have armed, and rather let them wring
  My heart out of my breast? But not the might
  Of Charles or all his host, had they been tried,
  Could have availed to tear thee from my side.

  LXXV
  "Oh! had he placed her but in strong repair,
  Guarded in some good fort, or Paris-town!
  — Since he would trust her to Duke Namus' care,
  That he should lose her in this way, alone
  Sorts with my wish. — Who would have kept the fair
  Like me, that would for her to death have gone?
  Have kept her better than my heart or sight:
  Who should and could, yet did not what I might.

  LXXVI
  "Without me, my sweet life, beshrew me, where
  Art thou bestowed, so beautiful and young!
  As some lost lamb, what time the daylight fair
  Shuts in, remains the wildering woods among,
  And goes about lamenting here and there,
  Hoping to warn the shepherd with her tongue;
  Till the wolf hear from far the mournful strain,
  And the sad shepherd weep for her in vain.

  LXXVII
  "My hope, where are thou, where? In doleful wise
  Dost thou, perchance, yet rove thy lonely round?
  Art thou, indeed, to ravening wolf a prize,
  Without thy faithful Roland's succour found?
  And is the flower, which, with the deities,
  Me, in mid heaven had placed, which, not to wound,
  (So reverent was my love) thy feelings chaste,
  I kept untouched, alas! now plucked and waste?

  LXXVIII
  "If this fair flower be plucked, oh, misery! oh,
  Despair! what more is left me but to die?
  Almighty God, with every other woe
  Rather than this, thy wretched suppliant try.
  If this be true, these hands the fatal blow
  Shall deal, and doom me to eternity."
  Mixing his plaint with bitter tears and sighs,
  So to himself the grieved Orlando cries.

  LXXIX
  Already every where, with due repose,
  Creatures restored their weary spirits; laid
  These upon stones and upon feathers those,
  Or greensward, in the beech or myrtle's shade:
  But scarcely did thine eyes, Orlando close,
  So on thy mind tormenting fancies preyed.
  Nor would the vexing thoughts which bred annoy,
  Let thee in peace that fleeting sleep enjoy.

  LXXX
  To good Orlando it appeared as he,
  Mid odorous flowers, upon a grassy bed,
  Were gazing on that beauteous ivory,
  Which Love's own hand had tinged with native red;
  And those two stars of pure transparency,
  With which he in Love's toils his fancy fed:
  Of those bright eyes, and that bright face, I say,
  Which from his breast had torn his heart away.

  LXXXI
  He with the fullest pleasure overflows,
  That ever happy lover did content:
  But, lo! this time a mighty tempest rose,
  And wasted flowers, and trees uptore and rent.
  Not with the rage with which this whirlwind blows,
  Joust warring winds, north, south, and east, unpent.
  It seemed, as if in search of covering shade,
  He, vainly wandering, through a desert strayed.

  LXXXII
  Meanwhile the unhappy lover lost the dame
  In that dim air, nor how he lost her, weets;
  And, roving far and near, her beauteous name
  Through every sounding wood and plain repeats.
  And while, "Oh wretched me!" is his exclaim,
  "Who has to poison changed my promised sweets?"
  He of his sovereign lady who with tears
  Demands his aid, the lamentation hears.

  LXXXIII
  Thither, whence comes the sound, he swiftly hies,
  And toils, now here, now there, with labour sore:
  Oh! what tormenting grief, to think his eyes
  Cannot again the lovely rays explore!
  — Lo! other voice from other quarter cries —
  "Hope not on earth to enjoy the blessing more."
  At that alarming cry he woke, and found
  Himself in tears of bitter sorrow drowned.

  LXXXIV
  Not thinking that like images are vain,
  When fear, or when desire disturbs our rest,
  The thought of her, exposed to shame and pain,
  In such a mode upon his fancy pressed,
  He, thundering, leaped from bed, and with what chain
  And plate behoved, his limbs all over dressed;
  Took Brigliadoro from the stall he filled,
  Nor any squire attendant's service willed.

  LXXXV
  And to pass every where, yet not expose
  By this his dignity to stain or slight,
  The old and honoured ensign he foregoes,
  His ancient bearing, quartered red and white.
  And in its place a sable ensign shows,
  Perhaps as suited to his mournful plight,
  That erst he from an Amostantes bore,
  Whom he had slain in fight some time before.

  LXXXVI
  At midnight he departed silently,
  Not to his uncle spake, not to his true
  And faithful comrade Brandimart, whom he
  So dearly cherished, even bade adieu;
  But when, with golden tresses streaming-free,
  The sun from rich Tithonus' inn withdrew,
  And chased the shades, and cleared the humid air,
  The king perceived Orlando was not there.

  LXXXVII
  To Charles, to his displeasure, were conveyed
  News that his nephew had withdrawn at night,
  When most he lacked his presence and his aid;
  Nor could he curb his choler at the flight,
  But that with foul reproach he overlaid,
  And sorely threatened the departed knight,
  By him so foul a fault should be repented,
  Save he, returning home, his wrath prevented.

  LXXXVIII
  Nor would Orlando's faithful Brandimart,
  Who loved him as himself, behind him stay;
  Whether to bring him back he in his heart
  Hoped, or of him ill brooked injurious say:
  And scarce, in his impatience to depart,
  Till fall of eve his sally would delay.
  Lest she should hinder his design, of this
  He nought imparted to his Flordelis:

  LXXXIX
  To him this was a lady passing dear,
  And from whose side he unwont to stray;
  Endowed with manners, grace, and beauteous cheer,
  Wisdom and wit: if now he went away
  And took no leave, it was because the peer
  Hoped to revisit her that very day.
  But that befel him after, as he strayed,
  Which him beyond his own intent delayed.

  XC
  She when she has expected him in vain
  Well nigh a month, and nought of him discerns,
  Sallies without a guide or faithful train,
  So with desire of him her bosom yearns:
  And many a country seeks for him in vain;
  To whom the story in due place returns.
  No more I now shall tell you of these two,
  More bent Anglantes' champion to pursue;

  XCI
  Who having old Almontes' blazonry
  So changed, drew nigh the gate; and there the peer
  Approached a captain of the guard, when he;
  "I am the County," whispered in his ear,
  And (the bridge quickly lowered, and passage free
  At his commandment) by the way most near
  Went straight towards the foe: but what befell
  Him next, the canto which ensues shall tell.

CANTO 9

  ARGUMENT
  So far Orlando wends, he comes to where
  He of old Proteus' hears the cruel use
  But feels such pity for Olympia fair,
  Wronged by Cymosco, who in prison mews
  Her plighted spouse, that ere he makes repair
  Further, he gives her hope to venge the abuse:
  He does so, and departs; and with his spouse
  Departs Bireno, to repeat his vows.

  I
  What cannot, when he has a heart possess'd
  This false and cruel traitor Love? since he
  Can banish from Orlando's faithful breast
  Such tried allegiance and due loyalty?
  Wise, full of all regards, and of the blest
  And glorious church the champion wont to be,
  Now, little for himself or uncle, driven
  By a vain love, he cares, and less for heaven.

  II
  But I excuse him well, rejoiced to know
  I have like partner in my vice: for still
  To seek my good I too am faint and slow,
  But sound and nimble in pursuit of ill.
  The count departs, disguised in sable show,
  Nor for so many friends, with froward will,
  Deserted cares; and comes where on the plain
  Are camped the hosts of Afric and of Spain;

  III
  Rather uncamped: for, in less troops or more,
  Rains under shed and tree had driven the band.
  Here ten, there twenty, seven or eight, or four,
  Near or further off, Orlando scanned.
  Each sleeps, oppressed with toil and wearied sore;
  This stretched on earth, that propped upon his hand:
  They sleep, and many might the count have slain,
  Yet never bared his puissant Durindane.

  IV
  So generous is Orlando's heart, he base
  Esteems it were to smite a sleeping foe.
  Now this he seeks, and now that other place;
  Yet cannot track his lady, high or low.
  If he finds any one in waking case,
  Sighing, to him he paints her form and show;
  Then prays him that for courtesy, he where
  The damsel is, will reach him to repair.

  V
  And when the day its shining light displayed,
  He wholly searched the Moorish army through.
  In that the gentle warrior was arrayed
  In Arab weeds, he this might safely do;
  And of his purpose came alike in aid
  That other tongues beside the French he knew;
  And in the African so well was read,
  He seemed in Tripoly one born and bred:

  VI
  He sojourns there three days, the camp to see;
  Still seeking nought beside: next up and down,
  Within, without, both burgh and city he
  Spies; nor surveys the realm of France alone;
  But fair Auvergne, and even Gascony
  Revisits, to its farthest little town.
  Roves from Provence to Brittany's domain,
  And from the Picards to the bounds of Spain.

  VII
  Between October and November's moon,
  In that dull season when the leafy vest
  Is stript from trembling plant, whose limbs are shown
  Of all their mantling foliage dispossess'd
  And in close flights the swarming birds are flown,
  Orlando enters on his amorous quest:
  This he pursues the livelong winter through,
  Nor quits when gladsome spring returns anew.

  VIII
  As (such his wont) from land to land he goes,
  A river's side he reaches on a day;
  Which to the neighbouring sea in quiet flows.
  Bretons and Normans parting on its way:
  But, swoln with mountain rain and melted snows,
  Then thundered, white with foam and flashing-spray:
  And with impetuous stream had overtopt
  Its brim, and burst the bridge, and passage stopt.

  IX
  The paladin this bank and the other eyed,
  Along the river's channel, to explore,
  Since neither fish nor fowl, if from his side
  He could gain footing on the adverse shore;
  When, with a damsel in the poop, he spied
  A ready pinnace that towards him bore:
  She steered, as if she would approach the strand;
  But would not let her shallop make the land.

  X
  Steered not to land; as haply with suspicion
  To take a lading, in her own despite.
  To her the good Orlando made petition
  To put him o'er the stream; and she: "No knight
  Passes this ferry, but upon condition
  He shall his faith and promise duly plight,
  That he will do a battle, at my prayer,
  Upon the justest quarrel and most fair.

  XI
  "So that if thou on that other shore to land
  Dost by my aid, Sir cavalier, desire,
  Promise me, ere the month which is at hand"
  (The damsel so pursued her speech) "expire,
  That thou wilt join the Hibernian monarch's hand,
  Who forms a fair armada, in his ire,
  To sack Ebuda's isle; of all compress'd
  By ocean's circling waves, the cruellest.

  XII
  "Know, beyond Ireland, in the briny flood,
  An island, amid many others, lies;
  Ebuda is its name; whose people rude
  (Such is their law), in search of plunder hies;
  And all the women that it takes, for food
  To a voracious animal supplies;
  Which every day to shore for this does speed,
  And finds new wife or maid whereon to feed:

  XIII
  "For of these merchant still and Corsair sell
  A large supply, and most of those most fair.
  Reckoning one slain a-day, you thus may well
  Compute what wives and maids have perished there.
  But if compassion in your bosom dwell,
  Nor you to Love an utter rebel are,
  Be you contented with this band to wend,
  United for such profitable end."

  XIV
  To hear the whole Orlando scarce could bear,
  Ere to be first in that emprize he swore,
  As one who evil deed misliked to hear,
  And with impatience like relation bore:
  Hence first induced to think, and next to fear,
  Angelica is captive on that shore:
  Since he so long the missing maid pursues,
  Nor of the damsel yet can gather news.

  XV
  Breaking his every scheme, this phantasy
  The troubled cavalier did so confound,
  That will all speed to that fell island he
  Resolved to navigate; nor yet the round
  Of a new sun was buried in the sea,
  Ere he a vessel at St. Malo's found;
  In which, embarking on his quest, the count
  Put forth, and cleared that night St. Michael's Mount.

  XVI
  Breac and Landriglier past on the left hand,
  Orlando's vessel skims the Breton shore;
  Then shapes her course towards the chalky strand,
  Whence England's isle the name of Albion bore:
  But the south wind, which had her canvas fanned,
  Shifts to north-west, and freshening, blows so sore,
  The mariners are fain to strike all sail,
  And wear and scud before the boisterous gale.

  XVII
  A distance traversed in four days, in one
  Backwards the ceaseless wind the frigate bore;
  The helmsman kept the sea, lest she should run
  Aground, and break like glass upon the shore.
  The wind upon the fifth day changed its tune,
  So loud and furious through the other four;
  And let, without more strife, the vessel gain
  A port, where Antwerp's river met the main.

  XVIII
  As soon as harboured there in shattered plight,
  The weary mariners their frigate moor,
  Out of a city, seated on the right
  Of that fair stream, descends upon the shore,
  As his gray hairs may warrant him, a wight
  Stricken in years; who, full of courteous lore,
  Turns to the county, after greetings due,
  Reputing him the leader of that crew.

  XIX
  And prays him, on a damsel's part, `that he
  To her would think not irksome to repair;
  Whom of unequalled affability
  And sweetness, he would find, as well as fair;
  Or otherwise would be content, that she
  Should to his bark resort, to seek him there,
  Nor prove less pliant than had been before
  All the knights errant, who had sought that shore:

  XX
  For hitherto, by land or sea conveyed,
  No cavalier had journeyed to that place
  That had refused to parlay with the maid,
  And give her counsel in a cruel case.'
  Orlando, hearing this, no more delayed,
  But issued from the bark with hurried pace,
  And, in all kind and courteous usage bred,
  His way directed where the ancient led.

  XXI
  With him did Roland to the city go,
  And at the bottom of a palace-stair,
  Conducted by that elder, full of woe
  A lady found, if face may grief declare,
  And sable cloth, with which (a mournful show)
  Chamber, and hall, and gallery, furnished were;
  Who, after honourable welcome paid,
  Seated the paladin, and sadly said:

  XXII
  "The daughter of the Count of Holland," (cried
  The Lady) "know in me, Sir cavalier.
  Though not his only offspring (for beside
  Myself two brothers were) to him so dear,
  That, for whatever favour I applied,
  I never met refusal from the peer.
  I living glady in this happy sort,
  A duke by chance was guested at our court;

  XXIII
  "The Duke of Zealand, meaning for Biscay;
  With purpose there to war upon the Moor;
  His youth and beauty, then in manhood's May,
  And force of love, unfelt by me before,
  Made me, with little strife, his easy prey:
  Persuaded by his outward cheer yet more,
  I thought, and think, and still shall think, the peer
  Loved me, and loves me yet with heart sincere.

  XXIV
  "Those days, whenas the wind was contrary,
  (Which fair for me, if foul for others blew)
  To others forty seemed, an hour to me;
  So upon speedy wings the moments flew.
  This while, we oftentimes held colloquy,
  When, to be given with solemn right and due,
  I promised him, and he to me, his hand,
  On his return, in wedlock's holy band.

  XXV
  "Bireno hardly from our court was gone,
  For such the name my faithful lover bore,
  When Friesland's king, whose realm is from our own
  No further than this stream from Ocean's shore,
  Designing to bestow me on his son,
  Arbantes hight (the monarch had no more),
  To Holland sent the worthiest of his land,
  Me of the count, my father, to demand.

  XXVI
  "I without power to falsify that vow,
  Which to my gentle lover I had plight;
  Nor though I had the power, would Love allow
  Me so to play the ingrate, if I might,
  (The treaty, well on foot, to overthrow,
  And nigh concluded) with afflicted sprite,
  Cried to my father, I would rather shed
  My very life-blood, than in Friesland wed.

  XXVII
  "My gracious father, he who took but pleasure
  In what pleased me, nor would my will constrain;
  Marking my grief, broke off the intended measure,
  To give me comfort and relieve my pain.
  At this proud Friesland's sovereign such displeasure
  Conceived, and entertained such high disdain,
  He entered Holland, and the war began,
  In which my kin were slaughtered to a man.

  XXVIII
  "Besides, that both his puissance and his might
  Are such, as in our age are matched of few,
  Such is in evil deeds his cunning sleight,
  He laughs to scorn what wit and force can do.
  Strange arms he bears, unknown to any wight,
  Save him, of the ancient nations or the new:
  A hollow iron, two yards long, whose small
  Channel he loads with powder and a ball

  XXIX
  "He, where 'tis closed behind, in the iron round,
  Touches with fire a vent, discerned with pain;
  In guise that skilful surgeon tries his ground,
  Where need requires that he should breathe a vein.
  Whence flies the bullet with such deafening sound,
  That bolt and lightening from the hollow cane
  Appear to dart, and like the passing thunder,
  Burn what they smite, beat-down or rend asunder.

  XXX
  "Twice broken, he our armies overthrew
  With this device, my gentle brethren slain;
  The first the shot in our first battle slew,
  Reaching his heart, through broken plate and chain;
  The other in the other onset, who
  Was flying from the fatal field in vain.
  The ball his shoulder from a distance tore
  Behind, and issued from his breast before.

  XXXI
  "My father next, defending on a day
  The only fortress which he still possessed,
  The others taken which about it lay,
  Was sent alike to his eternal rest:
  Who going and returning, to purvey
  What lacked, as this or that occasion pressed,
  Was aimed at from afar, in privy wise,
  And by the traytour struck between the eyes.

  XXXII
  "And I remaining, sire and brethren dead,
  The isle of Holland's only heir, the king
  Of Friesland, who by the desire was led
  Of better there his power establishing,
  To me, and also to my people said,
  I peace and quiet to my state might bring,
  Would I (when I before would not accord)
  Now take his son Arbantes for my lord.

  XXXIII
  "I, not so much for deadly hate I bear
  To him and all his kindred, by whose spite
  My sire and both my brothers slaughtered were,
  My country sacked and waste, as that the knight
  I would not wrong, to whom I fealty sware,
  And had my solemn word already plight
  That me to wedlock man should woo in vain,
  Till he to Holland should return from Spain.

  XXXIV
  "For one ill-born, a hundred yet behind,
  Will bear (replied) to hazard all content,
  — Slain, burnt alive, to let them to the wind
  Scatter my ashes, rather than consent. —
  My people seek to move my stedfast mind,
  By prayer and by protest, from this intent;
  And threat to yield my city up and me,
  Lest all be lost through my obduracy.

  XXXV
  "When in my fixt and firm resolve they read,
  That prayer and protest are alike in vain;
  My town and me, with Friesland's king agreed,
  Surrendered, as they vowed, my vassal train.
  Not doing by me any shameful deed,
  Me he assured of life and of domain,
  So I would soften my obdurate mood,
  And be to wed with his Arbantes wooed.

  XXXVI
  "I who would have consented to forego
  My life to scape from him, reflection made,
  That, save I first avenged myself, all woe
  Endured, would be by this regret outweighed.
  — Long time I muse, and to my misery know,
  'Tis only simulation which can aid.
  Not simple willingness, I feign desire,
  To win his grace, and have him for my sire.

  XXXVII
  " Mid many in my father's service, I
  Select two brothers fitted for my view,
  Of valiant heart and great ability
  But more approved for truth, as followers, who
  Bred in my father's court, from infancy
  Had with myself grown up; the brothers two
  So wholly bound to me, they would have thought
  My safety with their lives was cheaply bought.

  XXXVIII
  "To them I tell my project, and the pair
  Of brethren promise me their faithful aid:
  To Flanders this, a pinnace to prepare,
  I sent, and that with me in Holland stayed.
  Now, while both foreigners and natives were,
  Of Friesland's kingdom, to our nuptials prayed,
  Bireno in Biscay (the tidings went)
  For Holland had equipt an armament.

  XXXIX
  "Since on the issue of the earliest fray,
  When in the rout one hapless brother fell,
  I had dispatched a courier to Biscay,
  Who the sad news should to Bireno tell:
  While he toils sore his squadron to array,
  Proud Friesland's arms our wretched remnant quell.
  Bireno, who knew nought of this, had weighed,
  And with his barks put forth to bring us aid.

  XL
  "These tidings told to Friesland's monarch, he
  Confiding to his son the wedding's care,
  To meet Bireno's squadron puts to sea,
  And (so chance willed) burns, sinks, or routs them there,
  Leading him off into captivity; —
  But none to us as yet the tidings bear.
  This while I to the amorous youth am wed,
  Who, when the sun sought his, would seek my bed.

  XLI
  "Behind the curtains, I had hid the tried
  And faithful follower, of whom I said,
  Who moved not till the bridegroom he descried,
  Yet waited not till he in bed was laid:
  But raised a hatchet, and so well applied
  Behind the stripling's head the ponderous blade,
  Of speech and life it reft him; I, who note
  The deed, leap lightly up and cut his throat.

  XLII
  "As falls the bullock upon shamble-sill,
  Thus fell the ill-starred stripling, in despite
  Of king Cymosco, worst among the ill;
  So was the impious king of Friesland hight
  Who did my brothers and my father kill,
  And, in my state to found a better right;
  In wedlock wished to join me with his son,
  Haply to slay me when his end was won.

  XLIII
  "Ere new disturbance interrupt the deed,
  Taking what costliest was and lightest weighed,
  Me my companion by a chord, with speed,
  Drops from a window, where with boat purveyed
  In Flanders (as related) for my need,
  His brother, watchful of our motions, stayed:
  We dip the oar, we loose the sail, and driven
  By both, escape, as was the will of Heaven.

  XLIV
  "The daring feat achieved, I cannot say
  If Friesland's king more sorrowed for his son,
  Or raged at me: he there arrived, the day
  Ensuing, where the dreadful deed was done,
  Proud he returned, both he and his array,
  Of the duke taken, and the victory won:
  And thought to feast and nuptials he was bound,
  But in his home all grief and darkness found.

  XLV
  "His pity for his son, the hate he fed
  Towards me, torment the father day and night;
  But as lamenting will not raise the dead,
  And vengeance is a vent for smothered spite;
  That portion of his thoughts, which should have led
  The king, to ease by sighs his troubled sprite,
  Now willingly takes counsel with his hate,
  To seize me, and his vengeance satiate.

  XLVI
  "All known or said to by my friends, or who
  Were friends of those that, chosen from my train,
  Had aided me the deadly deed to do,
  Their goods and chattels burnt, were doomed or slain:
  And he had killed Bireno, since he knew
  No other trouble could inflict such pain;
  But that he, saving him in malice, thought
  He had a net wherewith I might be caught.

  XLVII
  "Yet him a cruel proposition made,
  Granting a year his purpose to complete;
  Condemned to privy death, till then delayed,
  Save in that time, through force or through deceit,
  He by his friends' and kindred's utmost aid,
  Doing or plotting, me from my retreat
  Conveyed into his prisons; so that he
  Can only saved by my destruction be.

  XLVIII
  "What for his safety could be done, behold,
  Short of my own destruction, had been tried.
  Six towns I had in Flanders: these I sold,
  And (great or small the produce set aside)
  A part of it, to wily persons told,
  That it to tempt his guards might be applied;
  The rest of it dispensed to move and arm
  Germans or English, to the miscreant's harm.

  XLIX
  "My agents, whether they their trust betrayed,
  Or that they could in truth perform no more,
  Me with vain words instead of help have paid,
  And scorn me, having drained my scanty store:
  And now the term is nigh expired, when aid,
  Whether of open force or treasured ore,
  No longer will arrive in time to save
  My cherished spouse from torture and the grave.

  L
  "Through him, from me was my dominion rent;
  Through him, my father and my brethren slain;
  Through him, the little treasure left me, spent
  (What served alone existence to sustain)
  To rescue him, in cruel durance pent;
  Nor other means to succour him remain;
  Save I, to liberate him from prison, go
  And yield myself to such a cruel foe.

  LI
  "If nothing more be left me then to try,
  Nor other way for his escape appear,
  Than his with this my wretched life to buy,
  This life I gladly will lay down: one fear
  Alone molests me; and it is that I
  Can never my conditions make so clear,
  As to assure me, that with new deceit,
  Me, when his prey, the tyrant will not cheat.

  LII
  "I fear, when I shall be in captive plight,
  And he has put all tortures upon me,
  He may not loose Bireno, and the knight
  Have not to thank me for his liberty:
  Like perjured king, and full of foul despite,
  Who with my murder will not satiate be;
  But by Bireno neither less nor more
  Will do, than he had done by me before.

  LIII
  "The occasion now that I confer with you,
  And tell my case to all who seek the land,
  Both lords and knights, is with the single view,
  That taking counsel of so large a band,
  Some one may indicate assurance due,
  That when before the cruel king I stand,
  No longer he Bireno shall detain;
  Nor, after I am killed, the duke be slain.

  LIV
  "Warrior to went with me, I in my need,
  When I shall be to Friesland given, have prayed;
  But so he promise, that the exchange agreed
  Shall be between us in such manner made,
  That from his bonds Bireno shall be freed
  When I am to the monarch's hands conveyed:
  Thus I, when I am slain, shall die content,
  Who to my spouse shall life by death have lent.

  LV
  "Not to this day have chanced upon a wight
  Who on his faith will give me warranty,
  That if the king refuse to loose the knight,
  When I am offered, from captivity,
  He will not suffer that in my despite
  (So feared those weapons!) I shall taken be.
  So feared those weapons, upon every hand!
  Which, howsoever thick, no plates withstand.

  LVI
  "Now, if as strong Herculean port and bold
  Appear to vouch, such worth to you belong;
  And you believe to give me or withhold
  Is in your power, should he intend me wrong;
  Be with me, when committed to his hold,
  Since I shall fear not, in your convoy strong,
  When you are with me, that my lord, though I
  Be after slain, shall by his order die."

  LVII
  Here her discourse, wherewith were interposed
  Loud sobs, the lady ceased, and silent stood:
  Orlando, when her lips the damsel closed,
  Whose ready will ne'er halts in doing good,
  Briefly to her replies, as indisposed
  To idle speeches of his natural mood:
  But plights his solemn word, that better aid
  She should from him receive than that she prayed.

  LVIII
  'Tis not his scheme to place her in the hand
  Of her foul foe, to have Bireno freed;
  He will save both the lovers, if his brand
  And wonted valour fail him not at need.
  Embarked that very day, they put from land
  With a clear sky and prosperous wind to speed.
  The county hastes in his impatient heat,
  Eager to reach that isle, the monster's seat.

  LIX
  Through the still deeps, on this or the other side,
  The skipper veered his canvas to the wind:
  This isle, and that of Zealand, they descried,
  One seen before, and one shut in behind.
  The third day, from the harboured vessel's side,
  In Holland, Roland disembarks, not joined
  By the complaining dame; whom to descend
  He will not till she hear that tyrant's end.

  LX
  Armed at all points, the county passed ashore,
  Borne on a horse 'twixt brown and black, the breed
  Of Denmark, but in Flanders nurtured, more
  Esteemed for weight and puissance than for speed:
  For when the paladin embarked before,
  In Brittany he left the gallant steed,
  His Brigliador; so nimble and so fair,
  That but Bayardo could with him compare.

  LXI
  Orlando fares to Dordrecht, where he views
  A numerous squadron, which the gate maintain;
  As well, because suspicion still ensues
  On the foundation of a new domain;
  As that before they had received the news,
  That out of Zealand, backed with armed train,
  Was coming with a fleet of many sail,
  A cousin of the lord here pent in jail.

  LXII
  One, good Orlando to the monarch's ear
  Bade bear a message, `that an errant knight
  Oh him would prove himself, with sword and spear;
  But would lay down this pact before the fight: —
  That if the king unhorsed the cavalier,
  Her who Arbantes slew, he, as his right,
  Should have, that, at the cavalier's command,
  Was ready for delivery to his hand;

  LXIII
  `And willed the king should on his side agree,
  If him the knight in combat overbore,
  Forthwith released from his captivity,
  Bireno to full freedom to restore.'
  To him the footman does his embassy;
  But he, who knightly worth or courteous lore
  Had never known, directs his whole intent
  The count by treacherous fraud to circumvent.

  LXIV
  He hopes as well, if he the warrior slay,
  To have the dame, whom, so aggrieved, he hates,
  If in the knight's disposal, and the say
  Of that strange knight, the footman well relates.
  Hence thirty men dispatched by other way
  Than to the portal led, where Roland waits;
  Who with a long and privy circuit wind,
  And come upon the paladin behind.

  LXV
  He all this while had made his guard delay
  The knight with words, till horse and foot he spied
  Arrived, where he this ambuscade did lay;
  When from the gate he with as many hied:
  As is the practised hunter's wonted way,
  To circle wood and beasts on every side:
  As nigh Volana, with his sweeping nets,
  The wary fisher fish and pool besets.

  LXVI
  'Tis thus the king bars every path which lies
  Free for the warrior's flight, with armed train:
  He him alive, and in no other guise,
  Would have, and lightly hopes his end to gain;
  Nor for the earthly thunderbolt applies,
  That had so many and so many slain:
  Which here he deems would serve his purpose ill,
  Where he desires to take and not to kill.

  LXVII
  As wary fowler, bent on greater prey,
  Wisely preserves alive the game first caught,
  That by the call-bird and his cheating play,
  More may within the circling net be brought;
  Such cunning art Cymosco would assay:
  But Roland would not be so lightly bought;
  Like them by the first toil that springs betrayed;
  And quickly forced the circle which was made.

  LXVIII
  Where he perceives the assailants thickest stand,
  He rests his lance, and sticks in his career
  First one and afterwards another, and
  Another, and another, who appear
  Of paste; till six he of the circling band
  Of foes impales upon a single spear;
  A seventh left out, who by the push is slain,
  Since the clogged weapon can no more contain.

  LXIX
  No otherwise, upon the further shore
  Of fosse or of canal, the frogs we spy,
  By cautious archer, practised in his lore,
  Smote and transfixed the one the other nigh;
  Upon the shaft, until it hold no more,
  From barb to feathers full, allowed to lie.
  The heavy lance Orlando from him flung,
  And to close combat with his faulchion sprung.

  LXX
  The lance now broke, his sword the warrior drew,
  That sword which never yet was drawn in vain,
  And still with cut or thrust some soldier slew;
  Now horse, now footman of the tyrant's train.
  And, ever where he dealt a stroke, changed blue,
  Yellow, green, white and black, to crimson stain.
  Cymosco grieves, when most his need require,
  Not to have now his hollow cane and fire;

  LXXI
  And with loud voice and menacing command
  Bids these be brought, but ill his followers hear;
  For those who have found safety of his band,
  To issue from the city are in fear.
  He, when he sees them fly on either hand,
  Would fly as well from that dread cavalier;
  Makes for the gate, and would the drawbridge lift,
  But the pursuing county is too swift.

  LXXII
  The monarch turns his back, and leaves the knight
  Lord of the drawbridge and of either gate.
  Thanks to his swifter steed, the rest in flight
  He passes: good Orlando will not wait
  (Intent the felon, not his band, to smite)
  Upon the vulgar herd to wreck his hate.
  But his slow horse seems restive; while the king's,
  More nimble, flies as if equipt with wings.

  LXXIII
  From street to street, before the count he made;
  And vanished clean; but after little stay,
  Came with new arms, with tube and fire purveyed;
  Which, at his hest, this while his men convey.
  And posted at a corner, he waylaid:
  His foe, as hunter watches for his prey,
  In forest, with armed dogs and spear, attending
  The boar in fury from the hill descending,

  LXXIV
  Who rends the branch and overthrows the stone;
  And wheresoe'er he turns his haughty front,
  Appears (so loud the deafening crash and groan)
  As if he were uprending wood and mount,
  Intent to make him his bold deed atone,
  Cymosco at the pass expects the count;
  As soon as he appears, with ready light
  Touches the hole, and fires upon the knight.

  LXXV
  Behind, the weapon flames in lightning's guise,
  And vents the thunder from before; the ground
  Shakes under foot and city wall; the skies
  The fearful echo all about rebound.
  The burning bolt with sudden fury flies,
  Not sparing aught which in its course is found.
  Hissing and whizzing through the skies it went;
  But smote not, to the assassin's foul intent.

  LXXVI
  Whether it was his great desire to kill
  That baron, or his hurry made him fail,
  Or trembling heart, like leaf which flutters still,
  Made hand and arm together flinch and quail;
  Or that it was not the Creator's will
  The church so soon her champion should bewail;
  The glancing stroke his courser's belly tore,
  Outstretched on earth, from thence to rise no more.

  LXXVII
  To earth fall horse and rider: this the knight
  Scarce touched; the other thundering pressed the plain:
  For the first rose so ready and so light,
  He from the fall seemed breath and force to gain.
  As African Anteus, in the fight,
  Rose from the sand with prouder might and main;
  So when Orlando touched the ground, to view
  He rose with doubled force and vigour new.

  LXXVIII
  He who has seen the thunder, from on high,
  Discharged by Jove with such a horrid sound,
  Descend where nitre, coal, and sulphur lie,
  Stored up for use in magazine profound,
  Which scarce has reached — but touched it, ere the sky
  Is in a flame, as well as burning ground,
  Firm walls are split, and solid marbles riven,
  And flying stones cast up as high as heaven;

  LXXIX
  Let him imagine, when from earth he sprung,
  Such was the semblance of the cavalier;
  Who moved in mode to frighten Mars among
  The Gods, so fierce and horrid was his cheer.
  At this dismay'd, the King of Friesland stung
  His horse, and turned his rein, to fly the peer:
  But fierce Orlando was upon his foe
  Faster than arrow flies from bended bow:

  LXXX
  And, what before he could not, when possest
  Of his good courser, now afoot will do.
  His speed outgoes all thought in every breast,
  Exceeds all credence, save in those who view.
  The tyrant shortly joined, he on the crest
  Smote at his head so well, he cleft it through;
  And to the neck divided by the blow,
  Sent it, to shake its last on earth below.

  LXXXI
  Lo! in the frighted city other sound
  Was heard to rise, and other crash of brands,
  From troop, who, thither in his guidance bound,
  Followed Bireno's cousin from his lands:
  Who, since the unguarded gates he open found,
  Into the city's heart had poured his bands;
  Where the bold paladin had struck such fear,
  He without let might scour it far and near.

  LXXXII
  In rout the people fly, who cannot guess
  Who these may be, or what the foes demand:
  But, when this man and that by speech and dress
  As Zealand-men distinguishes the band,
  Carte blanche they proffer, and the chief address,
  Bidding him range them under his command;
  Against the Frieslanders to lend him aid,
  Who have their duke in loathsome prison stayed.

  LXXXIII
  To Friesland's king that people hatred bore
  With all his following: who their ancient lord
  Had put to death, and who by them yet more,
  As evil and rapacious, was abhorred.
  Orlando interposed with kindly lore,
  As friend of both, the parties to accord:
  By whom, so joined, no Frieslander was left
  But was of life or liberty bereft.

  LXXXIV
  They would not wait to seek the dungeon-key,
  But breaking-down the gate, their entrance made;
  Bireno to the count with courtesy
  And grateful thanks the service done repaid.
  Thence they, together with large company,
  Went where Olympia in her vessel stayed:
  For so was the expecting lady hight,
  To whom that island's crown belonged of right.

  LXXXV
  She who had thither good Orlando brought,
  Not hoping that he would have thriven so well;
  — Enough for her, if by her misery bought,
  Her spouse were rescued from the tyrant's cell! —
  Her, full of love and loyal homage, sought
  The people one and all: Twere long to tell
  How she caressed Bireno, he the maid, —
  What thanks both lovers to the county paid.

  LXXXVI
  The people, throned in her paternal reign,
  Replace the injured dame, and fealty swear:
  She on the duke, to whom in solid chain
  Love with eternal knot had linked the fair,
  The empire of herself and her domain
  Conferred: He, called away by other care,
  Left in the cousin's guardian care this while
  His fortresses, and all the subject isle.

  LXXXVII
  Since he to visit Zealand's duchy planned,
  His faithful consort in his company;
  And thence, upon the king of Friesland's land,
  Would try his fortune (as he said), for he
  A pledge, he rated highly, had in hand,
  Which seemed of fair success the warranty,
  The daughter of the king: who here forsaken,
  With many others had been prisoner taken.

  LXXXVIII
  To a younger brother, her, the duke pretends,
  To be conjoined in wedlock, he conveyed.
  The Roman senator thence parting wends
  Upon the very day Bireno weighed;
  But he to nothing else his hand extends
  Of all the many, many prized made,
  Save to that engine, found amid the plunder,
  Which in all points I said resembled thunder.

  LXXXIX
  Not with intent, in his defence to bear
  What he had taken, of the prize possest;
  For he still held it an ungenerous care
  To go with vantage on whatever quest:
  But with design to cast the weapon where
  It never more should living wight molest;
  And, what was appertaining to it, all
  Bore off as well, the powder and the ball.

  XC
  And thus, when of the tidesway he was clear,
  And in the deepest sea his bark descried,
  So that no longer distant signs appear
  Of either shore on this or the other side,
  He seized the tube, and said: "That cavalier
  May never vail through thee his knightly pride,
  Nor base be rated with a better foe,
  Down with thee to the darkest deep below!

  XCI
  "O loathed, O cursed piece of enginery,
  Cast in Tartarean bottom, by the hand
  Of Beelzebub, whose foul malignity
  The ruin of this world through thee has planned!
  To hell, from whence thou came, I render thee."
  So said, he cast away the weapon: fanned
  Meanwhile, with flowing sheet, his frigate goes,
  By wind, which for the cruel island blows.

  XCII
  Such was the paladin's desire to explore
  If in the place his missing lady were;
  Whom he prefers the united world before,
  Nor can an hour of life without her bear.
  He fears, if he set foot on Ireland's shore,
  Some other chance may interrupt him there:
  So that he after have in vain to say,
  "Why hasted I no faster on my way?"

  XCIII
  Nor he in England nor in Ireland port
  Will make, nor on the coast that's opposite.
  But let him go, the naked archer's sport,
  Sore smitten in the heart! — ere I indite
  Yet more of him, to Holland I resort,
  And you to hear me company invite.
  For well I wot that you as well as me
  'Twould grieve that bridal should without us be.

  XCIV
  Sumptuous and fair the bridal there is made;
  But neither yet so sumptuous nor so fair
  As it will be in Zealand, it is said:
  But 'tis not my design you should repair
  Thither; since by new accidents delayed
  The feast will be, of which be it my care,
  In other strain, the tidings to report;
  If you to hear that other strain resort.

CANTO 10

  ARGUMENT
  Another love assails Bireno's breast,
  Who leaves one night Olympia on the shore.
  To Logistilla's holy realm addressed,
  Rogero goes, nor heeds Alcina more:
  Him, of that flying courser repossest,
  The hippogryph on airy voyage bore:
  Whence he the good Rinaldo's levy sees,
  And next Angelica beholds and frees.

  I
  Of all the loves, of all fidelity
  Yet proved, of all the constant hearts and true,
  Of all the lovers, in felicity
  Or sorrow faithful found, a famous crew,
  To Olympia I would give the first degree
  Rather than second: if this be not due,
  I well may say that hers no tale is told
  Of truer love, in present times or old.

  II
  And this she by so many proofs and clear,
  Had made apparent to the Zealand lord,
  No woman's faith more certain could appear
  To man, though he her open heart explored:
  And if fair truth such spirits should endear,
  And they in mutual love deserve reward,
  Bireno as himself, nay, he above
  Himself, I say, should kind Olympia love.

  III
  Not only should he nevermore deceive
  Her for another, were that woman she
  Who so made Europe and wide Asia grieve,
  Or fairer yet, if one more fair there be;
  But rather that quit her the light should leave,
  And what is sweet to taste, touch, hear, and see,
  And life and fame, and all beside; if aught
  More precious can in truth be styled, or thought.

  IV
  If her Bireno loved, as she had loved
  Bireno, if her love he did repay
  With faith like hers, and still with truth unmoved,
  Veered not his shifting sail another way;
  Or ingrate for such service — cruel proved
  For such fair love and faith, I now will say;
  And you with lips comprest and eye-brows bent,
  Shall listen to the tale for wonderment;

  V
  And when you shall have heard the impiety,
  Which of such passing goodness was the meed,
  Woman take warning from this perfidy,
  And let none make a lover's word her creed.
  Mindless that God does all things hear and see,
  The lover, eager his desires to speed,
  Heaps promises and vows, aye prompt to swear,
  Which afterwards all winds disperse in air.

  VI
  The promises and empty vows dispersed
  In air, by winds all dissipated go,
  After these lovers have the greedy thirst
  Appeased, with which their fevered palates glow.
  In this example which I offer, versed,
  Their prayers and tears to credit be more slow.
  Cheaply, dear ladies mine, is wisdom bought
  By those who wit at other's cost are taught.

  VII
  Of those in the first flower of youth beware,
  Whose visage is so soft and smooth to sight:
  For past, as soon as bred, their fancies are;
  Like a straw fire their every appetite.
  So the keen hunter follows up the hare
  In heat and cold, on shore, or mountain-height;
  Nor, when 'tis taken, more esteems the prize;
  And only hurries after that which flies.

  VIII
  Such is the practise of these striplings who,
  What time you treat them with austerity,
  Love and revere you, and such homage do,
  As those who pay their service faithfully;
  But vaunt no sooner victory, than you
  From mistresses shall servants grieve to be;
  And mourn to see the fickle love they owed,
  From you diverted, and elsewhere bestowed.

  IX
  I not for this (for that were wrong) opine
  That you should cease to love; for you, without
  A lover, like uncultivated vine,
  Would be, that has no prop to wind about.
  But the first down I pray you to decline,
  To fly the volatile, inconstant rout;
  To make your choice the riper fruits among,
  Nor yet to gather what too long has hung.

  X
  A daughter they have found (above was said)
  Of the proud king who ruled the Friesland state;
  That with Bireno's brother was to wed,
  As far as rumour tells; but to relate
  The truth, a longing in Bireno bred
  The sight of food so passing delicate;
  And he to talk his palate deemed would be,
  For other's sake, a foolish courtesy.

  XI
  The gentle damsel had not past fourteen,
  Was beautiful and fresh, and like a rose,
  When this first opening from its bud is seen,
  And with the vernal sun expands and grows.
  To say Bireno loved the youthful queen
  Were little; with less blaze lit tinder glows,
  Or ripened corn, wherever envious hand
  Of foe amid the grain has cast a brand,

  XII
  Than that which on Bireno's bosom fed,
  And to his marrow burned; when, weeping sore
  The fate of her unhappy father dead,
  He saw her bathed in ceaseless tears deplore:
  And, as cold water, on the cauldron shed,
  Shops short the bubbling wave, which boiled before;
  So was the raging rife Olympia blew
  Within his breast, extinguished by a new.

  XIII
  Nor feels Bireno mere satiety;
  He loathes her so, he ill endures her sight;
  And, if his hope he long deferred, will die:
  For other such his fickle appetite!
  Yet till the day prefixed to satisfy
  His fond desire, so feigns the wary knight,
  Olympia less to love than to adore
  He seems, and but her pleasure to explore.

  XIV
  And if the other he too much caress,
  Who cannot but caress her, there are none
  See evil in the deed, but rather guess
  It is in pity, is in goodness done:
  Since to raise up and comfort in distress
  Whom Fortune's wheel beats down in changeful run,
  Was never blamed; with glory oftener paid;
  — So much the more, a young — a harmless maid.

  XV
  Almighty God! how fallible and vain
  Is human judgment, dimmed by clouds obscure!
  Bireno's actions, impious and profane,
  By others are reputed just and pure.
  Already stooping to their oars, the train
  Have loosed his vessel from the port secure,
  And with the duke and his companions steer
  For Zealand through the deep, with meery cheer.

  XVI
  Already Holland and its headlands all
  Are left astern, and now descried no more;
  Since to shun Friesland they to larboard hawl.
  And keep their course more nigh the Scottish shore:
  When they are overtaken by a squall,
  And drive three days the open sea before:
  Upon the third, when now, near eventide,
  A barren and unpeopled isle is spied.

  XVII
  As soon as they were harboured in a hight,
  Olympia landed and the board was spread;
  She there contented, with the faithless knight,
  Supt, unsuspecting any cause for dread.
  Thence, with Bireno, where a tent was pight
  In pleasant place, repaired, and went to bed.
  The others of their train returned abroad,
  And rested in their ship, in haven moored.

  XVIII
  The fear and late sea sorrow, which had weighed
  So long upon the dame and broke her rest,
  The finding herself safe in greenwood shade
  Removed from noise, and, for her tranquil breast
  (Knowing her lover was beside her laid)
  No further thoughts, no further cares molest,
  Olympia lap in slumber so profound,
  No sheltered bear or dormouse sleeps more sound.

  XIX
  The lover false, who, hatching treason lies,
  Stole from his bed in silence, when he knew
  She slept: his clothes he in a bundle ties,
  Nor other raiment on his body threw.
  Then issuing forth from the pavilion hies,
  As if on new-born wings, towards his crew;
  Who, roused, unmoor without a cry, as he
  Commands, and loosen thence and put to sea.

  XX
  Behind the land was left; and there to pine
  Olympia, who yet slept the woods among;
  Till from her gilded wheels the frosty rhine
  Aurora upon earth beneath had flung;
  And the old woe, beside the tumbling brine,
  Lamenting, halcyons mournful descant sung;
  When she, 'twixt sleep and waking, made a strain
  To reach her loved Bireno, but in vain.

  XXI
  She no one found: the dame her arm withdrew;
  She tried again, yet no one found; she spread
  Both arms, now here, now there, and sought anew;
  Now either leg; but yet no better sped.
  Fear banished sleep; she oped her eyes: in view
  Was nothing: she no more her widowed bed
  Would keep, but from the couch in fury sprung,
  And headlong forth from the pavilion flung.

  XXII
  And seaward ran, her visage tearing sore,
  Presaging, and now certain of her plight:
  She beat her bosom, and her tresses tore,
  And looked (the moon was shining) if she might
  Discover any thing beside the shore;
  Nor, save the shore, was any thing in sight.
  She calls Bireno, and the caverns round,
  Pitying her grief, Bireno's name rebound.

  XXIII
  On the far shore there rose a rock; below
  Scooped by the breaker's beating frequently:
  The cliff was hollowed underneath, in show
  Of arch, and overhung the foaming sea.
  Olympia (MIND such vigour did bestow)
  Sprang up the frowning crest impetuously,
  And, at a distance, stretched by favouring gale,
  Thence saw her cruel lord's departing sail.

  XXIV
  Saw it, or seemed to see: for ill her eyes,
  Things through the air, yet dim and hazy, view.
  She falls, all-trembling, on the ground, and lies
  With face than snow more cold and white in hue:
  But when she has again found strength to rise,
  Guiding her voice towards the bark which flew,
  Calling with all her might, the unhappy dame
  Calls often on her cruel consort's name.

  XXV
  Where unavailing was the feeble note,
  She wept and clapt her hands in agony.
  "Without its freight," she cried, "thy ship does float.
  — Where, cruel, dost thou fly so swiftly? — Me
  Receive as well: — small hinderance to thy boat,
  Which bears my spirit, would my body be."
  And she her raiment waving in her hand,
  Signed to the frigate to return to land.

  XXVI
  But the loud wind which, sweeping ocean, bears
  The faithless stripling's sail across the deep,
  Bears off as well the shriek, and moan, and prayers
  Of sad Olympia, sorrowing on the steep.
  Thrice, cruel to herself, the dame prepares
  From the high rock amid the waves to leap.
  But from the water lifts at length her sight,
  And there returns where she had passed the night.

  XXVII
  Stretched on the bed, upon her face she lay,
  Bathing it with her tears. "Last night in thee
  Together two found shelter," did she say;
  "Alas! why two together are not we
  At rising? False Bireno! cursed day
  That I was born! What here remains to me
  To do? What can be done? — Alone, betrayed —
  Who will console me, who afford me aid?

  XXVIII
  "Nor man I see, nor see I work, which shows
  That man inhabits in this isle; nor I
  See ship, in which (a refuge from my woes),
  Embarking, I from hence may hope to fly.
  Here shall I starve; nor any one to close
  My eyes, or give me sepulture, be by,
  Save wolf perchance, who roves this wood, a tomb
  Give me, alas! in his voracious womb.

  XXIX
  "I live in terror, and appear to see
  Rough bear or lion issue even now,
  Or tiger, from beneath the greenwood tree,
  Or other beast with teeth and claws: but how
  Can ever cruel beast inflict on me,
  O cruel beast, a fouler death than thou?
  Enough for them to slay me once! while I
  Am made by thee a thousand deaths to die.

  XXX
  "But grant, e'en now, some skipper hither fare,
  Who may for pity bear me hence away;
  And that I so eschew wolf, lion, bear,
  Torture, and dearth, and every horrid way
  Of death; to Holland shall he take me, where
  For thee is guarded fortilage and bay;
  Or take me to the land where I was born,
  If this thou hast from me by treachery torn?

  XXXI
  "Thou, with pretence, from me my state didst wrest
  Of our connection and of amity;
  And quickly of my land thy troops possest,
  To assure the rule unto thyself. Shall I
  Return to Flanders where I sold the rest,
  Though little, upon which I lived, to buy
  Thee needful succour and from prison bear?
  Wretch, whither shall I go? — I know not where.

  XXXII
  "Can I to Friesland go, where I to reign
  As queen was called, and this for thee forewent;
  Where both my brethren and my sire were slain,
  And every other good from me was rent? —
  Thee would I not, thou ingrate, with my pain
  Reproach, not therefore deal thee punishment:
  As well as I, the story dost thou know;
  Now, see the meed thou dost for this bestow!

  XXXIII
  "Oh! may I but escape the wild corsair,
  Nor taken be, and after sold for slave!
  Rather than this may lion, wolf, or bear,
  Tiger, or other beast, if fiercer rave,
  Me with his claws and rushes rend and tear,
  And drag my bleeding body to his cave."
  So saying she her golden hair offends,
  And lock by lock the scattered tresses rends.

  XXXIV
  She to the shore's extremest verge anew,
  Tossing her head, with hair dishevelled, run;
  And seemed like maid beside herself, and who
  Was by ten fiends possessed, instead of one;
  Of like the frantic Hecuba, at view
  Of murdered Polydore, her infant son;
  Fixed on a stone she gazed upon the sea,
  Nor less than real stone seemed stone to be.

  XXXV
  But let her grieve till my return. To show
  Now of the Child I wish: his weary way
  Rogero, in the noon's intensest glow,
  Takes by the shore: the burning sunbeams play
  Upon the hill and thence rebound; below
  Boils the white sand; while heated with the ray,
  Little is wanting in that journey dire,
  But that the arms he wears are all on fire.

  XXXVI
  While to the warrior thirst and labour sore,
  Still toiling through that heavy sand, as he
  Pursued his path along the sunny shore,
  Were irksome and displeasing company,
  Beneath the shadow of a turret hoar,
  Which rose beside the beach, amid the sea,
  He found three ladies of Alcina's court,
  As such distinguished by their dress and port.

  XXXVII
  Reclined on Alexandrian carpets rare
  The ladies joyed the cool in great delight;
  About them various wines in vessels were,
  And every sort of comfit nicely dight;
  Fast by, and sporting with the ripple there,
  Lay, waiting on their needs, a pinnace light,
  Until a breeze should fill her sail anew:
  For then no breath upon the waters blew.

  XXXVIII
  They, who beheld along the shifting sand
  Rogero wend, upon his way intent,
  And saw thirst figured on his lips, and scanned
  His troubled visage, all with sweat besprent,
  Began to pray, `on what he had in hand
  He would not show his heart so deeply bent,
  But that he in the cool and grateful shade
  Would rest his weary limbs, beside them laid.'

  XXXIX
  To hold the stirrup one approaching near,
  Would aid him to alight: the other bore
  A cup of chrystal to the cavalier,
  With foaming wine, which raised his thirst the more;
  But to the music of their speech no ear
  He lent, who weened if he his way forbore
  For anything, each lett would time supply
  To Alcina to arrive, who now was nigh.

  XL
  Now so saltpetre fine and sulphur pure,
  Touched with the fiery spark, blaze suddenly;
  Not so loud ocean raves, when the obscure
  Whirlwind descends and camps in middle sea,
  As viewing thus the knight proceed secure
  Upon his journey, and aware that he
  Scorns them, who yet believe they beauteous are,
  Kindled the third of those three damsels fair.

  XLI
  As loud as she could raise her voice, she said,
  "Thou art not gentle, nor art thou a knight;
  And hast from other arms and horse conveyed:
  Which never could be thine by better right.
  So be thy theft, if well I guess, appaid
  By death, which this may worthily requite!
  Foul thief, churl, haughty ingrate, may I thee
  Burned, gibbeted, or cut in quarters see!"

  XLII
  Beside all these and more injurious cries,
  Which the proud damsel at the warrior throws,
  Though to her taunts Rogero nought replies,
  Who weens small fame from such a contest flows;
  She with her sisters to the frigate hies,
  Which waits them, and aboard the tender goes;
  And plying fast her oars, pursues the knight
  Along the sandy beach, still kept in sight.