No More Learning

By these fear first was laid, and next the smart
Sheathed of that woe, which had nigh pierced her sprite;
And with more patience thence the maid began
To hear, and her new lover's reasons scan.

LX
Next much more affable, with courteous lore
Seasoning her answers to his suit, replies;
Nor looking at the king, sometimes forbore
To fix upon his face her pitying eyes.
The paynim thence, whom Love had smote before,
Not hopeful now, but certain, of his prize,
Deemed that the lovely damsel would not still,
As late, be found rebellious to his will.

LXI
Riding in her glad company a-field,
Which so rejoiced his soul, so satisfied;
And being near the time, when to their bield,
Warned by the chilly night, all creatures hied,
Seeing the sun now low and half concealed,
The warrior 'gan in greater hurry ride;
Until he heard reed-pipe and whistle sound,
And next saw farm and cabin smoking round.

LXII
Pastoral lodgings were the dwellings near,
Less formed for show, than for conveniency;
And the young damsel and the cavalier
The herdsman welcomed with such courtesy,
That both were pleasured by his kindly cheer.
For not alone dwells Hospitality
In court and city; but ofttimes we find
In loft and cottage men of gentle kind.

LXIII
What afterwards was done at close of day
Between the damsel and the Tartar lord,
I will not take upon myself to say;
So leave to each, at pleasure, to award.
But as they rose the following morn more gay,
It would appear they were of fair accord:
And on the swain who them such honour showed,
Her thanks at parting Doralice bestowed.

LXIV
Thence from one place to the other wandering, they
Find themselves by a river, as they go.
Which to the sea in silence winds its way,
And ill could be pronounced to stand or flow,
So clear and limpid, that the cheerful day,
With nought to intercept it, pierced below.
Upon its bank, beneath a cooling shade,
They found two warriors and a damsel laid.

LXV
Now lofty Fancy, which one course to run
Permits not, calls me hence in sudden wise;
And thither I return, where paynims stun
Fair France with hosile din and angry cries,
About the tent, wherein Troyano's son
They holy empire in his wrath defies,
And boastful Rodomont, with vengeful doom,
Gives Paris to the flames, and levels Rome.

LXVI
Tidings had reached the Moorish sovereign's ear
That the English had already passed the sea;
And he bade Garbo's aged king appear,
Marsilius, and his heads of chivalry:
Who all advised the monarch to prepare
For the assault of Paris. They may be
Assured they in the storm will never thrive,
Unless 'tis made before the aids arrive.

LXVII
Innumerable ladders for the scale
Had been collected upon every hand,
And plank and beam, and hurdle's twisted mail,
For different uses, at the king's command;
And bridge and boat; and, what might more avail
Than all the rest, a first and second band
For the assault (so bids the monarch) form;
Who will himself go forth with them that storm.

LXVIII
The emperor, on the vigil of the day
Of battle, within Paris, everywhere,
By priest and friar of orders black and gray,
And white, bade celebrate mass-rite and prayer;
And those who had confessed, a fair array,
And from the Stygian demons rescued were,
Communicated in such fashions, all,
As if they were the ensuing day to fall.

LXIX
At the high church, he, girt with paladine
And preachers of the word, and barons brave,
With much devotion at those acts divine
Assisted, and a fair example gave;
And there with folded hands and face supine,
Exclaimed, "O Lord! although my sins be grave,
Permit not, that, in this their utmost need,
Thy people suffer for their king's misdeed!

LXX
"And if that they should suffer is thy will,
And that they should due penance undergo,
At least delay thy purpose to fulfil;
So that thine enemies deal not the blow.
For, when 'tis given him in his wrath to kill
Us who are deemed thy friends, the paynim foe,
That thou art without power to save, will cry,
Because thou lett'st thy faithful people die:

LXXI
"And, for one faithless found, against thy sway
A hundred shall throughout the world rebel;
So that false Babel's law will have its way,
And thus thy blessed faith put down and quell.
Defend thy suffering people, who are they
That purged thy tomb from heathen hounds and fell.
And many times and oft, by foes offended,
Thy holy church and vicars have defended.

LXXII
"That our deserts unfitting are to place
I' the scale against our mighty debt, I know;
Nor pardon can we hope, if we retrace
Our sinful lives; but if thou shouldst bestow
In aid, the gift of they redeeming grace,
The account is quit and balanced, that we owe;
Nor can we of thy succour, Lord, despair,
While we in mind thy saving mercy bear. "

LXXIII
So spake the holy emperor aloud,
In humbleness of heart and deep contrition;
And added other prayers withal, and vowed
What fitted his great needs and high condition.
Now was his supplication disallowed;
For his good genius hears the king's petition,
Best of the seraphs he; who spreads his wings,
And to the Saviour's feet this offering brings.

LXXIV
Infinite other prayers as well preferred,
Were, by like couriers, to the Godhead's ear
So borne; which when the blessed spirits heard,
They all together gazed, with pitying cheer,
On their eternal, loving Lord, and, stirred
With one desire, besought that he would hear
The just petition, to his ears conveyed,
Of this his Christian people, seeking aid.

LXXV
And the ineffable Goodness, who in vain
Was never sought by faithful heart, an eye,
Full of compassion, raised; and from the train
Waved Michael, and to the arch-angel: "Hie,
To seek the Christian host that crost the main,
And lately furled their sails in Picardy:
These so conduct to Paris, that their tramp
And noise be heard not in the hostile camp.

LXXVI
"Find Silence first, and bid him, on my part,
On this emprize attend thee, at thy side:
Since he for such a quest, with happiest art
Will know what is most fitting to provide.
Next, where she sojourns, instantly impart
To Discord my command, that she, supplied
With steel and tinder, 'mid the paynims go,
And fire and flame in their encampment blow;

LXXVII
"And throughout those among them, who are said
To be the mightiest, spread such strife, that they
Together may contend, and that some dead
Remain, some hurt, some taken in the fray;
And some to leave the camp, by wrath, be led;
So that they yield their sovereign little stay. "
Nothing the blessed winged-one replies,
But swoops descending from the starry skies.

LXXVIII
Where'er the angel Michael turns his wing,
The clouds are scattered and the sky turns bright;
About his person forms a golden ring,
As we see summer lightning gleam at night.
This while the courier of the heavenly king
Thinks, on his way, where he may best alight,
With the intent to find that foe to speech,
To whom he first his high behest would teach.

LXXIX
Upon the thought the posting angel brooded,
Where he, for whom he sought was used to dwell,
Who after thinking much, at last concluded
Him he should find in church or convent cell;
Where social speech is in such mode excluded,
That SILENCE, where the cloistered brethren swell
Their anthems, where they sleep, and where they sit
At meat; and everywhere in fine is writ.

LXXX
Weening that he shall find him here, he plies
With greater speed his plumes of gilded scale,
And deems as well that Peace, here guested, lies,
And Charity and Quiet, without fail.
But finds he is deceived in his surmise,
As soon as he has past the cloister's pale.
Here Silence is not; nor ('tis said) is found
Longer, except in writing, on this ground.

LXXXI
Nor here he Love, nor here he Peace surveys,
Piety, Quiet, or Humility.
Here dwelt they once; but 'twas in ancient days;
Chased hence by Avarice, Anger, Gluttony,
Pride, Envy, Sloth, and Cruelty. In amaze
The angel mused upon such novelty:
He narrowly the hideous squadron eyed,
And Discord too amid the rest espied;

LXXXII
Even her, to whom the eternal Sire as well,
Having found Silence, bade him to repair.
He had believed he to Avernus' cell,
Where she was harboured with the damned, must fare,
And now discerned her in this other hell
(Who would believe it? ) amid mass and prayer.
Strange Michael thought to see her there enshrined,
Whom he believed he must go far to find.

LXXXIII
Her by her party-coloured vest he knew.
Unequal strips and many formed the gown,
Which, opening with her walk, or wind that blew,
Now showed, now hid her; for they were unsown.
Her hair appeared to be at strife; in hue
Like silver and like gold, and black and brown;
Part in a tress, in riband part comprest,
Some on her shoulders flowed, some on her breast.

LXXXIV
Examinations, summons, and a store
Of writs and letters of attorney, she,
And hearings, in her hands and bosom bore,
And consultation, and authority:
Weapons, from which the substance of the poor
Can never safe in walled city be.
Before, behind her, and about her, wait
Attorney, notary, and advocate.

LXXXV
Her Michael calls to him, and give command
That she among the strongest paynims go;
And find occasion whence amid the band
Warfare and memorable scathe may grow.
He next from her of Silence makes demand,
Who of his motions easily might know;
As one who from one land to the other hied,
Kindling and scattering fire on either side.

LXXXVI
"I recollect not ever to have viewed
Him anywhere," quoth Discord in reply;
"But oft have heard him mentioned, and for shrewd
Greatly commended by the general cry:
But Fraud, who makes one of this multitude,
And who has sometimes kept him company,
I think, can furnish news of him to thee,
And" (pointing with her finger) "that is she. "

LXXXVII
With pleasing mien, grave walk, and decent vest,
Fraud rolled her eye-balls humbly in her head;
And such benign and modest speech possest,
She might a Gabriel seem who Ave said.
Foul was she and deformed, in all the rest;
But with a mantle long and widely spread,
Concealed her hideous parts; and evermore
Beneath the stole a poisoned dagger wore.

LXXXVIII
Of her the good archangel made demand
What way in search of Silence to pursue:
Who said; "He with the Virtues once was scanned
Nor dwelt elsewhere; aye guested by the crew
Of Benedict, or blest Elias' band,
When abbeys and when convent-cells were new;
And whilom in the schools long time did pass,
With sage Archytas and Pythagorus.

LXXXIX
"But those philosophers and saints of yore
Extinguished, who had been his former stay,
From the good habits he had used before
He passed to evil ones; began to stray,
Changing his life, at night with lovers, bore
Thieves company, and sinned in every way:
He oftentimes consorts with Treason; further,
I even have beheld him leagued with Murther.

XC
"With coiners him you oftentimes may see
Harbour in some obscure and close repair.
So oft he changes home and company,
To light on him would be a fortune rare:
Yet have I hope to point him out to thee;
If to Sleep's house thou wilt at midnight fare,
Him wilt thou surely find; for to repose
At night he ever to that harbour goes. "

XCI
Though Fraud was alway wont to deal in lies,
So like the simple truth appears her say,
The angel yields the tale belief; and flies
Forth from the monastery without delay,
Tempers his speed, and schemes withal in wise
To finish at the appointed time his way,
That at the house of Sleep (the mansion blind
Full well he knew) this Silence he may find.

XCII
In blest Arabia lies a pleasant vale,
Removed from village and from city's reach.
By two fair hills o'ershadowed is the dale,
And full of ancient fir and sturdy beech.
Thither the circling sun without avail
Conveys the cheerful daylight: for no breach
The rays can make through boughs spread thickly round;
And it is here a cave runs under ground.

XCIII
Beneath the shadow of this forest deep,
Into the rock there runs a grotto wide.
Here widely wandering, ivy-suckers creep,
About the cavern's entrance multiplied.
Harboured within this grot lies heavy Sleep,
Ease, corpulent and gross, upon this side,
Upon that, Sloth, on earth has made her seat;
Who cannot go, and hardly keeps her feet.

XCIV
Mindless Oblivion at the gate is found,
Who lets none enter, and agnizes none;
Nor message hears or bears, and from that ground
Without distinction chases every one;
While Silence plays the scout and walks his round,
Equipt with shoes of felt and mantle brown,
And motions from a distance all who meet
Him on his circuit, from the dim retreat.

XCV
The angel him approaches quietly,
And, " 'Tis God's bidding" (whispers in his ear)
"That thou Rinaldo and his company,
Brought in his sovereign's aid, to Paris steer:
But that thou do the deed so silently,
That not a Saracen their cry shall hear;
So that their army come upon the foe,
Ere he from Fame of their arrival know. "

XCVI
Silence to him no otherwise replied
Than signing with his head that he obeyed:
(And took his post behind the heavenly guide)
Both at one flight to Picardy conveyed.
The angel moved those bands of valour tried,
And short to them a tedious distance made:
Whom he to Paris safe transports; while none
Is conscious that a miracle is done.

XCVII
Silence the advancing troop kept skirting round,
In front, and flank, and rear of the array;
Above the band he spread a mist profound,
And everywhere beside 'twas lightsome day;
Nor through the impeding fog the shrilling sound
Of horn was heard, without, or trumpet's bray.
He next the hostile paynims went to find,
And with I know not what made deaf and blind.

XCVIII
While with such haste his band Rinaldo led,
That him an angel well might seem to guide,
And in such silence moved, that nought was said
Or heard of this upon the paynim side;
King Agramant his infantry had spread
Throughout fair Paris' suburbs, and beside
The foss, and underneath the walls; that day
To make upon the place his worst assay.

XCIX
He who the Moorish monarch's force would tell,
Which Charlemagne this day will have to meet,
In wooded Apennine might count as well
The trees upon its back, or waves that beat
(What time the troubled waters highest swell)
Against the Mauritanian Atlas' feet;
Or watch at midnight with how many eyes
The furtive works of lovers Heaven espies.

C
The larum-bells, loud-sounding through the air,
Stricken with frequent blows, the town affray;
And in the crowded temples every where
Movement of lips and hands upraised to pray
Are seen: if treasure seemed to God so fair
As to our foolish thoughts, upon this day
The holy consistory had bid mould
Their every statue upon earth in gold.

CI
Lamenting may be heard the aged just,
In that they were reserved for such a woe;
Calling those happy that in sacred dust
Were buried many and many a year ago.
But the bold youths who, valiant and robust,
Small thought upon the approaching ills bestow,
Scorning their elders' counsel, here and there
Hurrying, in fury, to the walls repair.

CII
Here might you paladin and baron ken,
King, duke, and marquis, count and chivalry,
And soldier, foreigner or citizen,
Ready for honour and for Christ to die;
Who, eager to assail the Saracen,
On Charlemagne to lower the bridges cry.
He witnesses with joy their martial beat,
But to permit their sally deems not meet.

CIII
And them he ordered in convenient post,
The advance of the barbarians to impede:
For this would ill suffice a numerous host,
To that he was content that few should speed.
Some worked at the machines, some wild-fire tost,
All ranged according to the separate need.
Charles, never in one place, with restless care
Provides defence and succour every where.

CIV
Paris is seated on a spacious plain,
I' the midst -- the heart of France, more justly say.
A stream flows into it, and forth again;
But first, the passing waters, as they stray,
An island form, and so secure the main
And better part, dividing on their way.
The other two (three separate quarters note).
Within the river girds, without the moat.

CV
The town, whose walls for miles in circuit run,
Might well have been attacked from many a side;
Yet, for he would assail it but on one,
Nor willingly his scattered troops divide,
Westward beyond the stream Troyano's son
Retired, from thence the assailing bands to guide.
In that, he neither city had nor plain
Behind, but what was his, as far as Spain.

CVI
Where'er the walls of Paris wound about,
Large ammunition had king Charles purveyed;
Strengthening with dyke each quarter held in doubt;
And had within trench, drain, and casemate made:
And where the river entered and went out,
Had thickest chains across the channel laid.
But most of all, his prudent cares appear
Where there is greatest cause for present fear.

CVII
With eyes of Argus, Pepin's valiant son,
Where Agramant was bent to storm foresaw,
And every thing forestalled, ere yet begun
By the bold followers of Mahound's law.
With Isolier, Grandonio, Falsiron,
Serpentin, Balugantes, and Ferrau,
And what beside he out of Spain had led,
Marsilius was in arms, their valiant head.

CVIII
With old Sobrino, on the left of Seine,
Pulian and Dardinel d'Almontes meet,
With Oran's giant king, to swell the train:
Six cubits is the prince, from head to feet.
But why move I my pen with greater pain
Than these men move their arms? for in his heat
King Rodomont exclaims, blaspheming sore,
Nor can contain his furious spirit more.

CIX
As swarming to assail the pastoral bowl,
With sound of stridulous wing, through summer sky,
Or relics of a feast, their luscious dole,
Repair the ready numbers of the fly;
As starlings to the vineyard's crimsoning pole
With the ripe clusters charged, -- heaven's concave high
Filling, as they advanced, with noise and shout,
Fast hurried to the storm the Moorish rout.

CX
Upon their walls the Christians in array,
With lance, sword, axe, and wild-fire tost,
The assaulted city guard without dismay,
And little reck the proud barbarian's boast:
Nor when death snatches this or that away,
Does any one in fear refuse his post.
Into the fosse below the paynim foes
Return, amid a storm of strokes and blows.

CXI
Nor in this was is iron plied alone,
But mighty masses and whole bulwarks fall,
And top of tower, huge piece of bastion,
And with much toil disrupted, solid wall;
While streams of boiling water pouring down,
Insufferably the advancing paynims gall:
An ill-resisted rain, which, in despite
Of helmet, makes its way, and blinds the sight.

CXII
And this than iron spear offended more:
Then how much more the mist of lime-dust fine!
Then how the emptied vessel, burning sore
With nitre, sulphur, pitch, and turpentine!
Nor idle lie the fiery hoops in store,
Which, wreathed about with flaming tresses, shine.
These at the foemen scaled, upon all hands,
Form cruel garlands for the paynim bands.

CXIII
Meanwhile, up to the walls the second crew
Fierce Sarza's king was driven, accompanied
By bold Orlando and Buraldo, who
The Garamantes and Marmonda guide;
Clarindo and Loridano; nor from view,
It seems, will Setta's valiant monarch hide:
Morocco's king and he of Cosco go
With these, that men their martial worth may know.

CXIV
With crimson Rodomont his banner stains,
And in the vermeil field a lion shows;
Who, bitted by a maid, to curb and reins
His savage mouth disdains not to unclose.
Himself in the submissive lion feigns
The haughty Rodomont, and would suppose
In her who curbs him with the bit and string,
Doralice, daughter to Grenada's king;

CXV
Whom Mandricardo took, as I before
Related, and from whom, and in what wise.
Even she it was, whom Sarza's monarch more
Loved than his realm, -- beyond his very eyes:
And valour showed for her and courteous lore,
Not knowing yet she was another's prize.
If he had, -- then, -- then, first, -- the story known,
Even what he did that day, he would have done.

CXVI
At once the foes a thousand ladders rear.
Against the wall by the assailants shored,
Two mannered each round; the second, in the rear,
Urged on by the first; the third the second gored.
One mounts the wall through valour, one through fear,
And all attempt perforce the dangerous ford;
For cruel Rodomont of Argier slays
Or smites the wretched laggard who delays.

CXVII
'Tis thus, 'mid fire and ruin, all assay
To mount the wall; but others to assure
Themselves, some safer passage seek, where they
Will have least pain and peril to endure.
Rodomont only scorns by any way
To wend, except by what is least secure;
And in that desperate case, where others made
Their offerings, cursed the god to whom they prayed.

CXVIII
He in a cuirass, hard and strong, was drest;
A dragon-skin it was with scaly quilt,
Which erst secured the manly back and breast
Of his bold ancestor, that Babel built;
Who hoped the rule of heaven from God to wrest,
And him would from his golden dome have split.
Perfect, and for this end alone, were made
Helmet and shield as well as trenchant blade.

CXIX
Nor Rodomont to Nimrod yields in might,
Proud and untamed; and who would not forbear
To scale the lofty firmament till night,
Could he in this wide world descry the stair.
He stood not, he, to mark the bulwark's plight
Nor if the fosse of certain bottom were.
He past, ran, -- rather flew across the moat,
Plunging in filth and water to his throat.

CXX
Dripping and foul with water and with weeds,
'Mid fire and stone, and arbalests, and bows,
On drives the chief; as through the marshy reeds,
The wild-swine of our own Mallea goes;
Who makes large day-light wheresoe'er he speeds,
Parting the sedge with breast and tusk and nose.
The paynim, safe in buckler lifted high,
Scorns not the wall alone, but braves the sky.

CXXI
Rodomont has no sooner gained the shore,
Than on the wooden bartizan he stands,
Within the city walls, a bridge that bore
(Roomy and large) king Charles's Christian bands.
Here many a scull is riven, here men take more
Than monkish tonsure at the warrior's hands:
Heads fly and arms; and to the ditch a flood
Runs streaming from the wall of crimson blood.

CXXII
He drops the shield; and with two-handed sway
Wielding his sword, duke Arnulph he offends.
Who came from whence, into the briny bay,
The water of the rapid Rhine descends.
No better than the sulphur keeps away
The advancing flame, the wretch his life defends.
He his last shudder gives, and tumbles dead;
Cleft downwards, a full palm from neck and head.

CXXIII
At one back-stroke sir Spineloccio true,
Anselmo, Prando, and Oldrado fell;
The narrow place and thickly-swarming crew
Make the wide-circling blow so fully tell.
The first half Flemings were, the residue
Are Normans, who the list of slaughter swell.
Orghetto of Maganza, he from brow
To breast divides, and thence to paunch below.

CXXIV
Down from the wall Andropono and Moschine
He cast into the ditch: a priest the first;
The second, but a worshipper of wine,
Drained, at a draught, whole runlets in his thirst;
Aye wonted simple water to decline,
Like viper's blood or venom: now immersed
In this, he perishes amid that slaughter;
And, what breeds most affliction, dies by water.

CXXV
Lewis the Provencal is cleft in two;
Arnold of Thoulouse through the breast before;
Hubert of Tours, sir Dionysius, Hugh,
And Claud, pour forth their ghosts in reeking gore.
Odo, Ambaldo, Satallon ensue,
And Walter next; of Paris are the four --
With others, that by me unmentioned fall,
Who cannot tell the name and land of all.

CXXVI
The crowd, by Rodomont of Sarza led,
The ladders lift, and many places scale.
Here the Parisians make no further head,
Who find their first defense of small avail
Full well they know that danger more to dread
Within awaits the foemen who assail;
Because between the wall and second mound
A fosse descends, wide, horrid, and profound.

CXXVII
Besides, that ours, with those upon the height,
War from below, like valiant men and stout,
New files succeed to those who fall in fight,
Where, on the interior summit, stand the rout,
Who gall with lances, and a whistling flight
Of darts, the mighty multitude without;
Many of whom, I ween, that post would shun,
If it were not for royal Ulien's son.

CXXVIII
But he still heartened some, and chid the rest,
And forced them forward to their sore alarm.
One paynim's head he cleft, and other's breast,
Who turned about to fly; and of the swarm
Some shoved and pushed and to the encounter prest,
Close-grappled by the collar, hair, or arm:
And downwards from the wall such numbers threw,
The ditch was all to narrow for the crew.

CXXIX
While so the foes descend, or rather fling
Themselves into the perilous profound;
And thence by many ladders try to spring
Upon the summit of the second mound,
King Rodomont, as if he had a wing
Upon his every member, from the ground
Upraised his weight, and vaulted clean across,
Loaded with all his arms, the yawning fosse.

CXXX
The moat of thirty feet, not less, he cleared,
As dexterously as leaps the greyhound fleet,
Nor at his lighting louder noise was heard
Than if he had worn felt beneath his feet.
He now of this, now that, the mantle sheared;
As though of pewter, not of iron beat,
Or rather of soft rind their arms had been:
So matchless was his force and sword so keen!

CXXXI
This while, not idle, those of ours had laid
Snares in the inner moat, a well-charged mine:
Where broom and thick fascines, all over paid
With swarthy pitch, in plenty intertwine.
Though they from bank to bank that hollow line,
Filling the bottom well-nigh to the brink;
And countless vessels the defenders sink.

CXXXII
Charged with salt-petre, oil, or sulphur pale,
One and the other, or with such like gear;
While ours, intent the paynims that assail
The town, should pay their daring folly dear,
(Who from the ditch on different parts would scale
The inner bulwark's platform) when they hear
The appointed signal which their comrades raise,
Set, at fit points, the wildfire in a blaze.

CXXXIII
For that the moat was full from side to side,
The scattered flames united into one,
And mounted to such height, they well-nigh dried
The watery bosom of the moon; a dun
And dismal cloud above extending wide,
Dimmed every glimpse of light, and hid the sun:
A fearful crash, with a continued sound,
Like a long peal of thunder, shook the ground.

CXXXIV
A horrid concert, a rude harmony
Of deep lament, and yell and shriek, which came
From those poor wretches in extremity,
Perishing through their furious leader's blame,
Was heard, as in strange concord, to agree
With the fierce crackling of the murderous flame.
No more of this, no more! -- Here, sir, I close
My canto, hoarse, and needing short repose.


CANTO 15

ARGUMENT
Round about Paris every where are spread
The assailing hosts of Africa and Spain.
Astolpho home by Logistilla sped,
Binds first Caligorantes with his chain;
Next from Orrilo's trunk divides the head;
With whom Sir Aquilant had warred in vain,
And Gryphon bold: next Sansonet discerns,
Ill tidings of his lady Gryphon learns.


I
Though Conquest fruit of skill or fortune be,
To conquer always is a glorious thing.
'Tis true, indeed, a bloody victory
Is to a chief less honour wont to bring;
And that fair field is famed eternally,
And he who wins it merits worshipping,
Who, saving from all harm his own, without
Loss to his followers, puts the foe to rout.

II
You, sir, earned worthy praise, when you o'erbore
The lion of such might by sea, and so
Did by him, where he guarded either shore
From Francolino to the mouth of Po,
That I, though yet again I heard him roar,
If you were present, should my fear forego.
How fields are fitly won was then made plain;
For we were rescued, and your foemen slain.

III
This was the Paynim little skilled to do,
Who was but daring to his proper loss;
And to the moat impelled his meiny, who
One and all perished in the burning fosse.
The mighty gulf had not contained the crew,
But that, devouring those who sought to cross,
Them into dust the flame reduced, that room
Might be for all within the crowded tomb.

IV
Of twenty thousand warriors thither sent,
Died nineteen thousand in the fiery pit;
Who to the fosse descended, ill content;
But so their leader willed, of little wit:
Extinguished amid such a blaze, and spent
By the devouring flame the Christians lit.
And Rodomont, occasion of their woes,
Exempted from the mighty mischief goes:

V
For he to the inner bank, by foes possest,
Across the ditch had vaulted wonderously:
Had he within it been, among the rest,
It sure had been his last assault. His eye
He turns, and when the wild-fires, which infest
The infernal vale, he sees ascend so high,
And hears his people's moan and dying screams,
With imprecations dread he Heaven blasphemes.

VI
This while a band King Agramant had brought,
To make a fierce assault upon a gate:
For while the cruel battle here was fought,
Wherein so many sufferers met their fate,
This haply unprovided had he thought
With fitting guard. Upon the monarch wait
King Bambirago, 'mid his knights of price,
And Baliverso, sink of every vice.

VII
And Corineus of Mulga, Prusion,
The wealthy monarch of the blessed isles;
Malabuferzo, he who fills the throne
Of Fez, where a perpetual summer smiles;
And other noble lords, and many a one
Well-armed and tried; and others 'mid their files,
Naked, and base, whose hearts in martial fields
Had found no shelter from a thousand shields.

VIII
But all things counter to the hopes ensue
Of Agramant upon his side; within,
In person, girded by a gallant crew,
Is Charlemagne, with many a paladin:
Ogier the Duke, King Salamon, the two
Guidos are seen, and either Angelin;
Bavaria's duke, and Ganelon are here,
Avino, Avolio, Otho, and Berlinghier.

IX
And of inferior count withal, a horde
Of Lombards, French, and Germans, without end;
Who, every one, in presence of his lord,
To rank among the valiantest contend,
This will I in another place record;
Who here a mighty duke perforce attend,
Who signs to me from far, and prays that I
Will not omit him in my history.

X
'Tis time that I should measure back my way
Thither, where I Astolpho left of yore;
Who, in long exile, loathing more to stay,
Burnt with desire to tread his native shore;
As hopes to him had given the sober fay,
Who quelled Alcina by her better lore,
She with all care would send the warrior back
By the securest and the freest track.

XI
And thus by her a barque is fitted out;
-- A better galley never ploughed the sea;
And Logistilla wills, for aye in doubt
Of hinderance from Alcina's treachery,
That good Andronica, with squadron stout,
And chaste Sophrosina, with him shall be,
Till to the Arabian Sea, beneath their care,
Or to the Persian Gulf he safe repair.

XII
By Scyth and Indian she prefers the peer
Should coast, and by the Nabataean reign;
Content he, after such a round, should veer
For Persian gulf, or Erithraean main,
Rather than for that Boreal palace steer,
Where angry winds aye vex the rude domain:
So ill, at seasons, favoured by the sun,
That there, for months together, light is none.

XIII
Next, when she all in readiness espied,
Her license to depart the prudent fay
Accorded to the duke, first fortified
With counsel as to things too long to say;
And that he might no more by charms be stayed
In place from whence he could not wend his way,
Him with a useful book and fair purveyed,
And ever for her love to wear it prayed.

XIV
How man should guard himself from magic cheats
The book instructed, which the fay bestowed;
At the end or the beginning, where it treats
Of such, an index and appendix showed.
Another gift, which in its goodly feats
All other gifts excelled, to her he owed;
This was a horn, which made whatever wight
Should hear its clang betake himself to flight.

XV
I say, the horn is of such horrid sound,
That, wheresoe'er 'tis heard, all fly for fear;
Nor in the world is one of heart so sound
That would not fly, should he the bugle hear.
Wind, thunder, and the shock which rives the ground,
Come not, in aught, the hideous clangour near.
With thanks did the good Englishman receive
The gift, and of the fairy took his leave.

XVI
Quitting the port and smoother waves, they stand
To sea, with favouring wind which blows astern;
And (coasting) round the rich and populous land
Of odoriferous Ind the vessels turn,
Opening a thousand isles on either hand,
Scattered about that sea, till they discern
The land of Thomas; here the pilot veers
His ready tiller, and more northward steers.

XVII
Astolpho, furrowing that ocean hoar,
Marks, as he coasts, the wealthy land at ease.
Ganges amid the whitening waters roar,
Nigh skirting now the golden Chersonese;
Taprobana with Cori next, and sees
The frith which chafes against its double shore;
Makes distant Cochin, and with favouring wind
Issues beyond the boundaries of Ind.

XVIII
Scouring at large broad ocean, with a guide
So faithful and secure, the cavalier
Questions Andronica, if from that side
Named from the westering sun, of this our sphere,
Bark, which with oars or canvas stemmed the tide,
On eastern sea was wonted to appear;
-- And could a wight, who loosed from Indian strand,
Reach France or Britain, without touching land.

XIX
Andronica to England's duke replies:
"Know that this earth is girt about with seas,
And all to one another yield supplies,
Whether the circling waters boil or freeze:
But, since the Aethiops' land before us lies,
Extending southward many long degrees.
Across his waters, some one has supposed
A barrier here to Neptune interposed.

XX
"Hence bark from this Levant of Ind is none
Which weighs, to shape her course for Europe's shore;
Nor navigates from Europe any one,
Our Oriental regions to explore;
Fain to retrace alike the course begun
By the mid land, extending wide before:
Weening (its limits of such length appear)
That it must join another hemisphere.

XXI
"But in the course of circling years I view
From farthest lands which catch the western ray,
New Argonauts put forth, and Tiphys new
Opening, till now an undiscovered way.
Others I see coast Afric, and pursue
So far the negroes' burning shore, that they
Pass the far sign, from whence, on his return,
The sun moves hither, leaving Capricorn;

XXII
"And find the limit of this length of land,
Which makes a single sea appear as two;
Who, scouring in their frigates every strand,
Pass Ind and Arab isles, or Persian through:
Others I see who leave, on either hand,
The banks, which stout Alcides cleft in two,
And in the manner of the circling sun,
To seek new lands and new creations run.

XXIII
"The imperial flags and holy cross I know,
Fixed on the verdant shore; see some upon
The shattered barks keep guard, and others go
A-field, by whom new countries will be won;
Ten chase a thousand of the flying foe,
Realms beyond Ind subdued by Arragon;
And see all, wheresoe'er the warriors wend,
To the fifth Charles' triumphant captains bend.

XXIV
"That this way should be hidden was God's will
Of old, and ere 'twas known long time should run;
Nor will he suffer its discovery, till
The sixth and seventh century be done.
And he delays his purpose to fulfil,
In that he would subject the world to one,
The justest and most fraught with prudent lore
Or emperors, since Augustus, or before.

XXV
"Of Arragon and Austria's blood I see
On the left bank of Rhine a monarch bred;
No sovereign is so famed in history,
Of all whose goodly deeds are heard or read.
Astraea reinthroned by him will be, --
Rather restored to life, long seeming dead;
And Virtues with her into exile sent,
By him shall be recalled from banishment.

XXVI
"For such desert, Heaven's bounty not alone
Designs he should the imperial garland bear, --
Augustus', Trajan's, Mark's, Severus', crown;
But that of every farthest land should wear,
Which here and there extends, as yet unknown,
Yielding no passage to the sun and year;
And wills that in his time Christ's scattered sheep
Should be one flock, beneath one Shepherd's keep.

XXVII
"And that this be accomplished with more ease,
Writ in the skies from all eternity,
Captains, invincible by lands and seas,
Shall heavenly Providence to him supply.
I mark Hernando Cortez bring, 'mid these,
New cities under Caesar's dynasty,
And kingdoms in the Orient so remote,
That we of these in India have no note.

XXVIII
"With Prospero Colonna, puissant peer,
A marquis of Pescara I behold; --
A youth of Guasto next, who render dear
Hesperia to the flower-de-luce of gold;
I see prepared to enter the career
This third, who shall the laurel win and hold;
As a good horse before the rest will dart,
And first attain the goal, though last to start.

XXIX
"I see such faith, such valour in the deeds
Of young Alphonso (such his name) confest,
He in his unripe age, -- nor he exceeds
His sixth and twentieth year, -- at Caesar's hest,
(A mighty trust) the imperial army leads:
Saving which, Caesar not alone the rest
Of his fair empire saves, but may the world
Reduce, with ensigns by this chief unfurled.

XXX
"As with these captains, where the way by land
Is free, he spreads the ancient empire's sway,
So on the sea, which severs Europe's strand
From Afric, open to the southern day,
When with good Doria linked in friendly band,
Victorious he shall prove in every fray.
This is that Andrew Doria who will sweep
From pirates, on all sides, your midland deep.

XXXI
"Pompey, though he chased rovers everywhere,
Was not his peer; for ill the thievish brood
Vanquished by him, in puissance, could compare
With the most mighty realm that ever stood.
But Doria singly will of the corsair
With his own forces purge the briny flood:
So that I see each continent and isle
Quake at his name, from Calpe to the Nile.

XXXII
"Beneath the faith, beneath the warrantry
Of the redoubted chief, of whom I say,
I see Charles enter fertile Italy,
To which this captain clears the monarch's way;
But on his country, not himself, that fee
Shall he bestow, which is his labour's pay;
And beg her freedom, where himself perchance
Another would to sovereign rule advance.

XXXIII
"The pious love he bears his native land
Honours him more than any battle's gain
Which Julius ever won on Afric's strand,
Or in thine isle, France, Thessaly, or Spain.
Nor great Octavius does more praise command,
Nor Anthony who jousted for the reign,
With equal arms: in that the wrong outweighs
-- Done to their native land -- their every praise.

XXXIV
"Let these, and every other wight who tries
To subject a free country, blush for shame,
Nor dare in face of man to lift his eyes,
Where he hears Andrew Doria's honoured name!
To him I see Charles other meed supplies;
For he beside his leaders' common claim,
Bestows upon the chief the sumptuous state,
Whence Norman bands their power in Puglia date.

XXXV
"Not only to this captain courtesy
Shall Charles display, still liberal of his store;
But to all those who for the empery
In his emprizes have not spared their gore.
Him to bestow a town, -- a realm -- I see,
Upon a faithful friend, rejoicing more,
And on all such as have good service done,
Than in new kingdom and new empire won. "

XXXVI
Thus of the victories, by land and main,
Which, when long course of years shall be complete,
Charles' worthy captains for their lord will gain,
Andronica did with Astolpho treat.
This while, now loosening, tightening now, the rein
On the eastern winds, which blow upon their feet,
Making this serve or that, her comrade stands;
While the blasts rise or sink as she commands.

XXXVII
This while they saw, as for their port they made,
How wide the Persian sea extends to sight;
Whence in few days the squadron was conveyed
Nigh the famed gulf from ancient Magi hight;
Here they found harbourage; and here were stayed
Their wandering barks, which stern to shore were dight.
Secure from danger from Alcina's wrath,
The duke by land continued hence his path.

XXXVIII
He pricks through many a field and forest blind,
By many a vale and many a mountain gray;
Where robbers, now before and now behind,
Oft threat the peer by night or open day;
Lion and dragon oft of poisonous kind,
And other savage monsters cross his way:
But he no sooner has his bugle wound,
Than these are scared and scattered by the sound.

XXXIX
Through Araby the blest he fares, where grow
Thickets of myrrh, and gums odorous ooze,
Where the sole phoenix makes her nest, although
The world is all before her where to choose;
And to the avenging sea which whelmed the foe
Of Israel, his way the duke pursues;
In which King Pharaoh and his host were lost:
From whence he to the land of heroes crost.

XL
Astolpho along Trajan's channel goes,
Upon that horse which has no earthly peer,
And moves so lightly, that the soft sand shows
No token of the passing cavalier;
Who prints not grass, prints not the driven snows,
-- Who dry-shod would the briny billows clear,
And strains so nimbly in the course, he wind
And thunderbolt and arrow leaves behind: --

XLI
Erst Argalia's courser, which was born
From a close union of the wind and flame,
And, nourished not by hay or heartening corn,
Fed on pure air, and Rabican his name.
His way the bearer of the magic horn
Following, where Nile received that river, came;
But ere he at its outlet could arrive,
Towards him saw a pinnace swiftly drive.

XLII
A hermit in the poop the bark did guide
With snowy beard descending to mid breast;
Who when from far the Paladin be spied,
Him to ascend his ready pinnace prest.
"My son, unless thou loathest life, (he cried)
And wouldst that Death to-day thy course arrest,
Content thee in my bark to cross the water;
For yonder path conducts thee straight to slaughter.

XLIII
"Within six miles, no further, shalt thou light
(Pursued the hermit) on the bloody seat,
Where dwells a giant, horrible to sight,
Exceeding every stature by eight feet.
From him wayfaring man or errant knight
Would vainly hope with life to make retreat;
For some the felon quarters, some he flays,
And some he swallows quick, and some he slays.

XLIV
"He, 'mid the cruel horrors he intends,
Takes pleasure in a net, by cunning hands
Contrived, which near his mansion he extends;
So well concealed beneath the crumbling sands,
That whoso uninstructed thither wends,
Nought of the subtle mischief understands;
And so the giant scares him with his cries,
That he within the toils in terror flies;

XLV
"Whom with loud laughter, to his seat hard by
He drags along, enveloped in his snare;
And knight and damsel views with equal eye,
And for his prisoners' worth has little care.
Then, having sucked their brains and life-blood dry,
Casts forth their bones upon the desert lair;
And round about his griesly palace pins,
For horrid ornament, their bloody skins.

XLVI
"Take this, -- my son, oh! take this other way,
Which thee will to the sea in safety guide. "
"I thank thee, holy father, for thy say,
(To him the fearless cavalier replied)
But cannot peril against honour weigh,
Far dearer than my life. To the other side
Me vainly dost thou move to pass the wave;
Rather for this I seek the giant's cave.

XLVII
"I with dishonour life to flight may owe;
But worse than death loath thus to save my head.
The worst that can befall me if I go,
Is I my blood shall with the others shed:
But if on me such mercy God bestow,
That I remain alive, the giant dead,
Secure for thousands shall I make the ways;
So that the greater good the risque o'erpays.

XLVIII
"I peril but the single life of one
Against safety of the countless rest. "
-- "Go then in peace," (the other said). "my son,
And to thy succour, form among the blest,
May God dispatch the Archangel Michael down. "
-- And him, with that, the simple hermit blest.
Astolpho pricks along Nile's rosy strand,
More in his horn confiding than his brand.

XLIX
Between the mighty river and the fen,
A path upon the sandy shore doth lie,
Barred by the giant's solitary den
Cut off from converse with humanity.
About it heads and naked limbs of men
Were fixed, the victims of his cruelty.
Window or battlements was not, whence strung
Might not be seen some wretched prisoner hung.

L
As in hill-farm or castle, fenced with moat,
The hunter, mindful what his dangers were,
Aye fastens on his door the shaggy coat
And horrid paws and monstrous head of bear;
So showed the giant those of greatest note,
Who, thither brought, had perished in his snare.
The bones of countless others wide were spread,
And every ditch with human blood was red.

LI
Caligorant was standing at the gate
(For so was the despiteous monster hight);
Who decked his house with corpses, as for state
Some theirs with cloth of gold and scarlet dight.
He scarce contained himself for joy, so great
His pleasure, when the duke appeared in sight;
For 'twas two months complete, a third was near,
Since by that road had past a cavalier.

LII
Towards the marish, where green rushes grow,
He hastes, intending from that covert blind
To double on his unsuspecting foe,
And issue on the cavalier behind:
For him to drive into the net, below
The sand, the griesly giant had designed;
As others trapt he had been wont to see,
Brought thither by their evil destiny.

LIII
When him the wary paladin espied,
He stopt his courser, not without great heed,
Lest he into the covert snare might tide,
Forewarned of this by the good hermit's rede.
Here to his horn for succour he applied,
Nor failed its wonted virtue in this need:
It smote the giant's heart with such affright,
That he turned back, and homeward fled outright.

LIV
Astolpho blew, still watchful of surprise,
Weening to see the engine sprung: fast flew
The giant, -- as if heart as well as eyes
The thief had lost, -- nor whitherward he knew:
Such is his fear, he kens not as he flies,
How is own covert mischief to eschew:
He runs into the net, which closing round,
Hampers the wretch, and drags him to the ground.

LV
Astolpho, who beholds his bulky prey
Fall bodily, drives thither at full speed,
Secure himself, and, bent -- to make him pay
The price of slaughtered thousands -- quits his steed.
Yet after, deems a helpless wight to slay
No valour were, but rather foul misdeed:
For him, arms, neck, and feet, so closely tied,
He could not shake himself, the warrior spied.

LVI
With subtle thread of steel had Vulcan wrought
The net of old, and with such cunning pain,
He, who to break its weakest mesh had sought,
Would have bestowed his time and toil in vain.
It was with this he Mars and Venus caught,
Who, hands and feet, were fettered by the chain:
Nor did the jealous husband weave the thread
For aught, but to surprise that pair in bed.

LVII
Mercury from the smith conveyed the prize,
Wanting to take young Chloris in the snare;
Sweet Chloris, who behind Aurora flies,
At rise of sun, through fields of liquid air,
And from her gathered garment, through the skies,
Scatters the violet, rose, and lily fair.
He for this nymph his toils so deftly set,
One day, in air he took her with the net.

LVIII
The nymph (it seems) was taken as she flew,
Where the great Aethiop river meets the brine:
The net was treasured in Canopus, through
Successive ages, in Anubis' shrine.
After three thousand years, Caligorant drew
The sacred relict from the palace divine:
Whence with the net the impious thief returned,
Who robbed the temple and the city burned,

LIX
He fixed it here, beneath the sandy plain,
In mode, that all the travellers whom he chased
Ran into it, and the engine was with pain
Touched, ere it arms, and feet, and neck embraced.
From this the good Astolpho took a chain,
And with the gyve his hands behind him laced:
His arms and breast he swaddled in such guise,
He could not loose himself; then let him rise.

LX
After, his other knots unfastening,
(For he was turned more gentle than a maid)
Astolpho, as a show, the thief would bring,
By city, borough-town, and farm conveyed;
The net as well; than which no quainter thing
Was ever by the file and hammer made.
On him, like sumpter-nag he laid the load,
In triumph led, behind him, on his road.

LXI
Him helm and shield he gives alike to bear,
As to a valet; hence proceeds the peer,
Gladdening the fearful pilgrim every where,
Who joys to think, henceforth his way is clear.
So far an end does bold Astolpho fare,
He is to Memphis' tombs already near, --
Memphis renowned for pyramids; in sight,
He marks the populous Cairo opposite.

LXII
Ran all the people in tumultuous tide,
To see him drag the unmeasured wight along.
"How can it be," (each to his fellow cried)
"That one so weak could master one so strong? "
Scarce can Astolpho put the press aside,
So close from every part their numbers throng;
While all admire him as a cavalier
Of mighty worth, and make him goodly cheer.

LXIII
Then Cairo was not such, as common cry
Pronounces in our age that costly seat;
-- That eighteen thousand districts ill supply
Lodging to those who in her markets meet;
-- And though the houses are three stories high,
Numbers are forced to sleep in the open street;
And that the soldan has a palace there
Of wonderous size, and passing rich and fair;

LXIV
And therein (Christian renegadoes all)
Keeps fifteen thousand vassals, for his needs,
Beneath one roof supplied with bower and stall,
Themselves, and wives, and families, and steeds.
The duke desired to see the river's fall,
And how far Nile into the sea proceeds.
At Damietta; where wayfaring wight,
He heard, was prisoner made or slain outright.

LXV
For at Nile's outlet there, beside his bed,
A sturdy thief was sheltered in a tower,
Alike the native's and the stranger's dread,
Wont even to Cairo's gate the road to scower.
Him no one could resist, and, it was said,
That man to slay the felon had no power.
A hundred thousand wounds he had in strife
Received, yet none could ever take his life.

LXVI
To see if he could break the thread which tied
The felon's life, upon his way the knight
Set forward, and to Damietta hied,
To find Orrilo, so the thief was hight;
Thence to the river's outlet past, and spied
The sturdy castle on the margin dight;
Harboured in which the enchanted demon lay,
The fruit of a hobgoblin and a fay.

LXVII
He here Orrilo and two knights in mail
Found at fierce strife: the two ill held their own
Against him; so Orrilo did assail
The warlike pair, although himself alone;
And how much either might in arms avail,
Fame through the universal world had blown.
Of Oliviero's seed was either plant;
Gryphon the white, and sable Aquilant.

LXVIII
The necromancer had this while (to say
The truth) with vantage on his side, begun
The fight, who brought a monster to the fray,
Found only in those parts, and wont to won
Ashore or under water, and to prey,
For food, on human bodies; feeding on
Poor mariners and travelling men, who fare,
Of the impending danger, unaware.

LXIX
The monster, slaughtered by the brethren two,
Upon the sand beside the haven lies;
And hence no wrong they to Orrilo do,
Assailing him together in this guise.
Him they dismembered often and not slew:
Now he, -- because dismembered, -- ever dies;
For he replaces leg or hand like wax,
Which the good faulchion from his body hacks.

LXX
Gryphon and Aquilant by turns divide,
Now to the teeth, now breast, the enchanted wight.
The fruitless blow Orrilo does deride,
While the two baffled warriors rage for spite.
Let him who falling silver has espied
(Which mercury by alchymists is hight)
Scatter, and reunite each broken member,
Hearing my tale, what he has seen remember.

LXXI
If the thief's head be severed by the pair,
He lights and staggers till he finds it; now
Uptaken by the nose or by the hair,
And fastened to the neck, I know not how.
This sometimes Gryphon takes, and whirled through air,
Whelms in the stream; but bootless is the throw:
For like a fish can fierce Orrilo swim;
And safely, with the head, regains the brim.

LXXII
Two ladies, meetly clad in fair array,
One damsel was in black and one in white,
And who had been the occasion of that fray,
Stood by to gaze upon the cruel fight:
Either of these was a benignant fay,
Whose care had nourished one and the other knight,
Oliver's children; when the babes forlorn
They from the claws of two huge birds had torn.

LXXIII
Since, from Gismonda they had these conveyed,
Borne to a distance from their native sky.
But more to say were needless, since displaid
To the whole world has been their history.
Though the author has the father's name mis-said;
One for another (how I know not, I)
Mistaking. Now this fearful strife the pair
Of warriors waged at both the ladies' prayer.

LXXIV
Though it was noon in the happy islands, day
Had vanished in this clime, displaced by night;
And, underneath the moon's uncertain ray,
And ill-discerned, were all things hid from sight;
When to the fort Orrilo took his way.
Since both the sable sister and the white
Were pleased the furious battle to defer,
Till a new sun should in the horizon stir.

LXXV
The duke, who by their ensigns, and yet more
Had by the sight of many a vigorous blow,
Gryphon and Aquilant long time before
Agnized, to greet the brethren was not slow:
And they, who in the peer, victorious o'er
The giant, whom he led a captive, know
The BARON OF THE PARD, (so styled at court)
Him to salute, with no less love resort.

LXXVI
The ladies to repose the warriors led
To a fair palace near, their sumptuous seat:
Thence issuing courtly squire and damsel sped,
Them with lit torches in mid-way to meet.
Their goodly steeds they quit, there well bested,
Put off their arms, and in a garden sweet
Discern the ready supper duly laid
Fast by, where a refreshing fountain played.

LXXVII
Here they bid bind the giant on the green,
Fast-tethered by a strong and weighty chain
To a tough oak, whose ancient trunk they ween
May well be proof against a single strain;
With that, by ten good serjeants overseen,
Lest he by night get loose, and so the train
Assault and haply harm; while careless they
Without a guard and unsuspecting lay.

LXXVIII
At the abundant and most sumptuous board,
With costly viands (its least pleasure) fraught,
The longest topic for discourse afford
Orrilo's prowess, and the marvel wrought;
For head or arm dissevered by the sword,
They (who upon the recent wonder thought)
Might think a dream to see him re-unite,
And but return more furious to the fight.

LXXIX
Astolpho in his book had found exprest
(That which prescribed a remedy for spell)
How he who of one hair deprived the pest
Only could him in battle hope to quell:
But this plucked out or sheared, he from his breast
Parforce the felon's spirit would expell.
So says the volume; but instructs not where,
'Mid locks so thickly set, to find the hair.

LXXX
The duke no less with hope of conquest glows
Than if the palm he has already won;
As he that hopes with small expense of blows
To pluck the hair, the wizard-wight undone.
Hence does he to the youthful pair propose
The burden of that enterprize upon
Himself to take: Orrilo will he slay,
If the two brethren nought the intent gainsay,

LXXXI
But willingly to him these yield the emprize,
Assured his toil will be bestowed in vain;
And now a new Aurora climbs the skies,
And from his walls Orrilo on the plain
Drops, -- and the strife begins -- Orrilo plies
The mace, the duke the sword; he 'mid a rain
Of strokes would from the body at one blow
Divorce the spirit of the enchanted foe:

LXXXII
Together with the mace he lops the fist;
And now this arm, now the other falls to ground;
Sometimes he cleaves the corslet's iron twist,
And piecemeal shares and maims the felon round.
Orrilo re-unites the portions missed,
Found on the champagne, and again is sound:
And, though into a hundred fragments hewed,
Astolpho sees him, in a thought, renewed.

LXXXIII
After a thousand blows, Astolpho sped
One stroke, above the shoulders and below
The chin, which lopt away both helm and head:
Nor lights the duke less swiftly than his foe.
Then grasps the hair defiled with gore and red,
Springs in a moment on his horse, and lo!
Up-stream with it along Nile's margin hies,
So that the thief cannot retake the prize.

LXXXIV
That fool, who had not marked the warrior's feat,
Was searching in the dust to find his head;
But when he heard the charger in retreat,
Who through the forest with the plunder fled,
Leapt quickly into his own courser's seat,
And in pursuit of bold Astolpho sped.
Fain had Orrilo shouted "Hola! stay! "
But that the duke had borne his mouth away:

LXXXV
Yet pleased Astolpho had not in like guise
Borne off his heels, pursues with flowing rein.
Him Rabican, who marvellously flies,
Distances by a mighty length of plain.
This while the wizard's head Astolpho eyes
From poll to front, above the eyebrows twain,
Searching, in haste, if he the hair can see
Which makes Orrilo's immortality.

LXXXVI
Amid innumerable locks, no hair
Straiter or crisper than the rest was seen.
How then should good Astolpho, in his care
To slay the thief, so many choose between?
"To cut them all (he said) it better were. "
And since he scissors lacked and razor keen,
He wanting these, resorted to his glaive,
Which cut so well, it might be said to shave.

LXXXVII
And, holding, by the nose, the severed head,
Close-sheared it all, behind and eke before.
He found, among the rest, the fatal thread.
Then pale became the visage, changing sore,
Turned up its eyes, and signals sore and dread
Of the last agony of nature wore;
And the headless body seated in the sell,
Shuddered its last, and from the courser fell.

LXXXVIII
The duke returns where he the champions two
And dames had left, the trophy in his hand,
Which manifests of death the tokens true;
And shows the distant body on the sand.
I know not if they this with pleasure view,
Though him they welcome with demeanour bland:
For the intercepted victory might pain
Perchance inflict upon the envying twain.

LXXXIX
Nor do I think that either gentle fay
With pleasure could that battle's issue see:
Since those kind dames, because they would delay
The doleful fate which shortly was to be
In France the brethren's lot, had in that fray
With fierce Orrilo matched the warriors free;
And so to occupy the pair had cast,
Till the sad influence of the skies were past.

XC
When to the castellan was certified
In Damietta, that the thief was dead,
He loosed a carrier pigeon, having tied
Beneath her wing a letter by a thread.
She went to Cairo; and, to scatter wide
The news, another from that town was sped
(Such is the usage there); so, Egypt through,
In a few hours the joyful tidings flew.

XCI
As he had brought the adventure to an end,
The duke now sought the noble youths to stir,
(Though of themselves that way their wishes tend,
Nor they to whet that purpose need the spur)
That they the Church from outrage to defend,
And rights of Charles, the Roman Emperor,
Would cease to war upon that Eastern strand,
And would seek honour in their native land.

XCII
Gryphon and Aquilant thus bid adieu,
One and the other, to his lady fair;
Who, though it sorely troubled them, ill knew
How to resist the wishes of the pair.
The duke, together with the warlike two,
Turns to the right, resolved to worship, where
God erst incarnate dwelt, the holy places,
Ere he to cherished France his way retraces.

XCIII
The warriors to the left-hand might incline,
As plainer and more full of pleasant cheer,
Where still along the sea extends their line;
But take the right-hand path, abrupt and drear;
Since the chief city of all Palestine,
By six days' journey, is, through this, more near.
Water there is along this rugged track,
And grass; all other needful matters lack.

XCIV
So that, before they enter on their road,
All that is needful they collect, and lay
Upon the giant's back the bulky load,
Who could a tower upon his neck convey.
The Holy Land a mountain-summit showed,
At finishing their rough and salvage way;
Where HEAVENLY LOVE a willing offering stood,
And washed away our errors with his blood.

XCV
They, at the entrance of the city, view
A gentle stripling; and in him the three
Agnize Sir Sansonet of Mecca, who
Was, in youth's flower, for sovereign chivalry,
For sovereign goodness, famed the country through,
And wise beyond his years: from paganry
Converted by Orlando to the truth,
Who had, with his own hands, baptized the youth.

XCVI
Designing there a fortilage, in front
Of Egypt's caliph they the warrior found;
And with a wall two miles in length, the mount
Of Calvary intending to surround.
Received with such a countenance, as is wont
To be of inward love the surest ground,
Them he conducted to his royal home,
And, with all comfort, harboured in the dome.

XCVII
As deputy, the sainted land he swayed,
Conferred on him by Charlemagne, in trust,
To him the English duke a present made
Of that so sturdy and unmeasured beast,
That it ten draught horse burdens had conveyed;
So monstrous was the giant, and next gave
The net, in which he took the unwieldy slave.

XCVIII
In quittance, Sansonet, his sword to bear,
Gave a rich girdle to Astolpho bold,
And spurs for either heel, a costly pair,
With bucklers and with rowels made of gold;
Which ('twas believed) the warrior's relicts were,
Who freed the damsel from that dragon old;
Spoils, which Sir Sansonet, with many more,
From Joppa, when he took the city, bore

XCIX
Cleansed of their errors in a monastery,
From whence the odour of good works upwent,
They of Christ's passion every mystery
Contemplating, through all the churches went;
Which now, to our eternal infamy,
Foul Moor usurp; what time on strife intent,
All Europe rings with arms and martial deeds,
And war is everywhere but where it needs.

C
While grace the warlike three devoutly sought,
Intent on pardon and on pious lore,
A Grecian pilgrim, known to Gryphon, brought
Tidings, which ill the afflicted champion bore,
From his long-cherished vow and former thought,
Too foreign, too remote; and these so sore
Inflamed his troubled breast, and bred such care,
They wholly turned aside his mind from prayer.

CI
For his misfortune, one of lovely feature
Sir Gryphon worshipped, Origilla hight.
Of fairer visage and of better stature,
Not one among a thousand meets the sight:
But faithless, and of such an evil nature,
That thou mightst town and city search outright,
And continent and island, far and near,
Yet, never, as I think, wouldst find her peer.

CII
In Constantine's imperial city, burned
With a fierce fever, he had left the fair;
And hoped to find her, to that place returned,
Lovelier than ever; and enjoy her there.
But she to Antioch (as the warrior learned)
Had with another leman made repair;
Thinking, while such fresh youth was yet her own,
'Twere not a thing to brook -- to sleep alone.

CIII
Sir Gryphon, from the time he heard the news
Had evermore bemoaned him, day or night:
Whatever pleasure other wight pursues
Seems but the more to vex his troubled sprite.
Let each reflect, who to his mischief woos,
How keenly tempered are Love's darts of might,
And, heavier than all ills, the torment fell,
In that he was ashamed his grief to tell.

CIV
This: for that Aquilant had oft before
Reproved him for the passion which he nursed,
And sought to banish her from his heart's core;
-- Her, who of all bad women is the worst,
He still had censured, in his wiser lore,
If by his brother Aquilant accurst,
Her Gryphon, in his partial love, excuses,
For mostly self-conceit our sense abuses.

CV
It therefore is his purpose, without say
To Aquilant, alone to take the quest
As far as Antioch, and bear her away,
Who had borne off his heart-core from his breast:
To find him, who had made the dame his prey,
And take such vengeance of him, ere he rest,
As shall for aye be told. My next will tell
How he effected this, and what befell.


CANTO 16

ARGUMENT
Gryphon finds traitorous Origilla nigh
Damascus city, with Martano vile.
Slaughtered the Saracens and Christians lie
By thousands and by thousands heaped this while;
And if the Moor outside of Paris die,
Within the Sarzan so destroys each pile,
Such slaughter deals, that greater ill than this
Never before has been exprest, I wiss.


I
Love's penalties are manifold and dread:
Of which I have endured the greater part,
And, to my cost, in these so well am read,
That I can speak of them as 'twere my art.
Hence if I say, or if I ever said,
(Did speech or living page my thoughts impart)
"One ill is grievous and another light. "
Yield me belief, and deem my judgment right.

II
I say, I said, and, while I live, will say,
"He, who is fettered by a worthy chain,
Though his desire his lady should gainsay,
And, every way averse, his suit disdain;
Though Love deprive him of all praised pay,
After long time and trouble spent in vain,
He, if his heart be placed well worthily,
Needs not lament though he should waste and die. "

III
Let him lament, who plays a slavish part,
Whom two bright eyes and lovely tresses please:
Beneath which beauties lurks a wanton heart
With little that is pure, and much of lees.
The wretch would fly; but bears in him a dart,
Like wounded stag, whichever way he flees;
Dares not confess, yet cannot quench, his flame,
And of himself and worthless love has shame.

IV
The youthful Gryphon finds him in this case,
Who sees the error which he cannot right;
He sees how vilely he his heart does place
On faithless Origille, his vain delight:
Yet evil use doth sovereign reason chase,
And free will is subdued by appetite.
Though a foul mind the lady's actions speak,
Her, wheresoe'er she is, must Gryphon seek.

V
Resuming the fair history, I say,
Out of the city he in secret rode;
Nor to his brother would his plan bewray,
Who oft on him had vain reproof bestowed:
But to the left t'wards Ramah shaped his way,
By the most level and most easy road.
Him six days' journey to Damascus brought,
Whence, setting out anew, he Antioch sought.

VI
He nigh Damascus met the lover, who
Perfidious Origilla's heart possest,
And matched in evil customs were the two,
Like stalk and flower: for that in either's breast
Was lodged a fickle heart; the dame untrue,
And he a traitor whom she loved the best.
While both the lovers hid their nature base,
To others' cost, beneath a courteous face.

VII
As I relate to you, the cavalier
Came on huge courser, trapped with mickle pride;
With faithless Origille, in gorgeous gear,
With gold embroidered, and with azure dyed.
Two ready knaves, who serve the warrior, rear
The knightly helm and buckler at his side;
As one who with fair pomp and semblance went
Towards Damascus, to a tournament.

VIII
Damascus' king a splendid festival
Had in these days bid solemnly proclaim;
And with what pomp they could, upon his call,
Thither, in shining arms, the champions came.
At Gryphon's sight the harlot's spirits fall,
Who fears that he will work her scathe and shame;
And knows her lover has not force and breath
To save her from Sir Gryphon, threatening death;

IX
But like most cunning and audacious quean,
Although she quakes from head to foot with fear,
Her voice so strengthens, and so shapes her mien,
That in her face no signs of dread appear,
Having already made her leman ween
The trick devised, she feigns a joyous cheer,
Towards Sir Gryphon goes, and for long space
Hangs on his neck, fast-locked in her embrace.

X
She, after suiting with much suavity
The action to the word, sore weeping, cried:
"Dear lord, is this the guerdon due to me,
For love and worship? that I should abide
Alone one live long year, deprived of thee,
-- A second near -- and, yet upon thy side
No grief? -- and had I borne for thee to stay,
I know not if I should have seen that day.

XI
"When I from Nicosia thee expected
(When thou wast journeying to the plenar court)
To cheer me, -- left with fever sore infected,
And in the dread of death, -- I heard report
That thou wast gone to Syria; and dejected
By that ill tiding, suffered in such sort,
I, all unable to pursue thy quest,
Had nigh with this right hand transfixt my breast.

XII
"But fortune, by her double bounty, shows
She guards me more than thou: me to convey
She sent my brother here, who with me goes,
My honour safe in his protecting stay;
And this encounter with thee now bestows,
Which I above all other blessings weigh,
And in good time; for hadst thou longer stayed,
My lord, I should have died of hope delayed. "

XIII
The wicked woman, full of subtlety
(Worse than a fox in crafty hardihood)
Pursues, and so well shapes her history,
She wholly throws the blame on Gryphon good;
Makes him believe that other not to be
Her kin alone, but of her flesh and blood,
Got by one father; -- and so puts upon
The knight, that he less credits Luke and John.

XIV
Nor he the fraud of her, more false than fair,
Only forbore with just reproach to pay;
Nor only did the threatened stranger spare,
Who was the lover of that lady gay;
But deemed to excuse himself sufficient were,
Turning some portion of the blame away;
And as the real brother she profest,
Unceasingly the lady's knight carest;

XV
And to Damascus, with the cavalier
Returned, who to Sir Gryphon made report,
That Syria's wealthy king, with sumptuous cheer,
Within that place would hold a splendid court;
And who, baptized or infidel, appear
There at his tourney (of whatever sort),
Within the city and without, assures
From wrong, for all the time the feast endures.

XVI
Yet I of Origilla's treachery
Shall not so steadfastly pursue the lore,
Who, famed not for one single perfidy,
Thousands and thousands had betrayed before,
But that I will return again to see
Two hundred thousand wretched men or more
Burnt by the raging wild-fire, where they spread,
About the walls of Paris, scathe and dread.

XVII
I left you where king Agramant prepared
To storm a gate, and to the assault was gone:
This he had hoped to find without a guard;
And work elsewhere to bar the way was none.
For there, in person, Charles kept watch and ward
With many, practised warriors every one;
Two Angelines, two Guidos, Angelier,
Avino, Avolio, Otho, and Berlinghier.

XVIII
One and the other host its worth, before
Charles and king Agramant, desire to show,
Where praise, where riches are, they think, in store
For those that do their duty on the foe.
But such were not the atchievements of the Moor
As to repair the loss; for, to his woe,
Full many a Saracen the champaign prest;
Whose folly was a beacon to the rest.

XIX
The frequent darts a storm of hail appear,
Which from the city-wall the Christians fling;
The deafening clamours put the heavens in fear,
Which, from our part, and from that other, ring.
But Charles and Agramant must wait; for here
I of the Mars of Africa will sing,
King Rodomont, that fierce and fearful man,
That through the middle of the city ran.

XX
I know not, sir, if you the adventure dread
Of that so daring Moor to mind recall,
The leader, who had left his people dead,
Between the second work and outer wall;
Upon those limbs the ravening fire so fed,
Was never sight more sad! -- I told withal,
How vaulting o'er that hindrance at a bound,
He cleared the moat which girt the city round.

XXI
When he was known the thickening crowd among,
By the strange arms he wore and scaly hide,
There, where the aged sires and feebler throng.
Listened to each new tale on every side;
Heaven-high groan, moan, and lamentation rung,
And loud they beat their lifted palms and cried:
While those who had the strength to fly aloof,
Sought safety not from house or temple's roof.

XXII
But this the cruel sword concedes to few,
So brandished by that Saracen robust;
And here, with half a leg dissevered, flew
A foot, there head divided from the bust:
This cleft across, and that behold him hew,
From head to hips, so strong the blow and just.
While, of the thousands wounded by the Moor,
Is none that shows an honest scar before.

XXIII
What by weak herd, in fields of Hircany,
The tiger does, or Indian Ganges near,
Or wolf, by lamb or kid, on heights which lie
On Typheus' back, the cruel cavalier
Now executes on those, I will not, I
Call phalanxes or squadrons, but a mere
Rabble, that I should term a race forlorn,
Who but deserved to die ere they were born.

XXIV
Of all he cuts, and thrusts, and maims, and bleeds,
There is not one who looks him in the face.
Throughout that street, which in a straight line leads
Up to St. Michael's bridge, so thronged a space,
Rodomont, terrible and fearful, speeds,
Whirling his bloody brand, nor grants he grace,
In his career, to servant or to lord;
And saint and sinner feel alike the sword.

XXV
Religion cannot for the priest bespeak
Mercy, nor innocence avail the child:
Nor gently beaming eyes, nor vermeil cheek,
Protect the blooming dame or damsel mild.
Age smites its breast and flies: while bent to wreak
Vengeance, the Saracen, with gore defiled,
Shows not his valour more than cruel rage,
Heedless alike of order, sex, and age.

XXVI
Nor the impious king alone with human blood,
-- Lord of the impious he -- his hand distains,
But even on walls so sorely vents his mood,
He fires fair houses, and polluted fanes.
The houses almost all were made of wood,
Then (as 'tis told) and this, by what remains,
May be believed; for yet in Paris we
Six out of ten no better builded see.

XXVII
Though flames demolish all things far and wide,
This ill appears his furious hate to slake:
Where'er the paynim has his hands applied,
He tumbles down a roof at every shake.
My lord, believe, you never yet espied
Bombard in Padua, of so large a make,
That it could rend from wall of battered town
What, at a single pull, the king plucked down.

XXVIII
While the accursed man, amid the rout,
So warred with fire and sword, if at his post,
King Agramant had prest it from without,
The ample city had that day been lost.
But he was hindered by the warrior stout,
Who came from England with the advancing host,
Composed of English and of Scotch allied,
With Silence and the Angel for their guide.

XXIX
It was God's will, that while through town and tower
The furious Rodomont such ruin spread,
Thither arrived Rinaldo, Clermont's flower.
Three leagues above, he o'er the river's bed
Had cast a bridge; from whence his English power
To the left-hand by crooked ways he led;
That, meaning to assail the barbarous foes,
The stream no obstacle might interpose.

XXX
Rinaldo had, with Edward, sent a force,
Six thousand strong, of archer infantry,
And sped, with Ariman, two thousand horse
Of lightest sort; and foot and cavalry
Sought Paris by those roads, which have their course
Directly to, and from, the Picard sea;
That by St. Martin's and St. Denys' gate,
They might convey the aid the burghers wait.

XXXI
Rinaldo sent with these the baggage train
And carriages, with which his troops were stored;
And fetching, with the forces that remain,
A compass, he the upper way explored.
He bridge, and boat, and means to pass the Seine,
Had with him; for it here was ill to ford.
He past his army, broke the bridges down,
And rank'd in line the bands of either crown.

XXXII
But having first the peers and captains wheeled
About him in a ring, the cavalier
Mounted the bank which overtopt the field,
So much, that all might plainly see and hear;
And cried, "My lords, you should thanksgiving yield,
With lifted hands, to God, who brought you here;
Through whom, o'er every nation, you may gain
Eternal glory, bought with little pain.

XXXIII
"Two princes, by your means, will rescued be,
If you relieve those city gates from siege;
Him, your own king, whom you from slavery
And death to save, a subject's vows oblige;
And a famed emperor, of more majesty
Than ever yet in court was served by liege,
And with them other kings, and dukes, and peers,
And lords of other lands, and cavaliers.

XXXIV
"So that one city saving, not alone
Will the Parisians bless your helping hand,
Who, sadder than for sorrows of their own,
Timid, afflicted, and disheartened stand;
And their unhappy wives and children moan,
Which share in the same peril, and the band
Or virgins, dedicate to heavenly spouse,
Lest this day frustrate see their holy vows;

XXXV
-- "I say, this city saved from deadly wound,
Not only will Parisians hold you dear;
But habitants of all the countries round:
Nor speak I only of the nations near;
For city there is none on Christian ground.
But what has citizens beleaguered here;
So that to you, for vanquishing the foe,
More lands than France will obligation owe.

XXXVI
"If him the ancients with a crown endued,
Who saved one citizen by worthy deed,
For rescuing such a countless multitude,
What recompense shall be your worthy meed?
But if, from jealousy or sloth, so good
And holy, enterprise should ill succeed,
Believe me, only while these walls endure,
Is Italy or Almayn's realm secure;

XXXVII
"Or any other part, where men adore
Him, who for us upon the cross was hung;
Nor think that distance saves you from the Moor,
Nor deem your island strong, the waves among.
For if, from far Gibraltar's straits of yore,
And old Alcides' pillars, sailed the throng,
To bear off plunder from your sea-girt strands,
What will they do when they possess our lands?

XXXVIII
"And, if in this fair enterprise arrayed,
No gain, no glory served you as a guide,
A common debt enjoins you mutual aid,
Militant here upon one Church's side.
Moreover, let not any be afraid,
Our broken foemen will the assault abide;
Who seem to me ill-taught in warlike art,
A feeble rabble without arms or heart. "

XXXIX
Such reasons, and yet better for, that need
Might good Rinaldo in his speech infer;
And with quick phrase and voice, to valiant deed
The high-minded barons and bold army stir;
And this was but to goad a willing steed
(As the old proverb says) who lacks no spur.
He moved the squadrons, having closed his speech,
Softly, beneath their separate banners, each.

XL
He, without clamour, without any noise.
So moves his triple host, their flags below.
Zerbino, marching by the stream, enjoys
The honour first to assail the barbarous foe;
The paladin the Irishmen employs
More inland, with a wider wheel to go.
Thus England's horse and foot, the two between,
Led by the Duke of Lancaster, are seen.