No More Learning

"
Rinaldo vouched what valiant Guido told,
How either champion was a warrior bold.

XL
Nor them he less had recognized at sight;
Because (such was the usage of the pair)
One by a vest all black, and one all white,
He knows, and by the ornaments they wear.
The brethren know as well Mount Alban's knight,
And give the warlike kinsmen welcome fair:
They both embrace Rinaldo as a friend,
And of their ancient quarrel make an end.

XLI
They -- erst at feud and with sore hate possest,
Through Truffaldino -- (which were long to say)
Each other with fraternal love carest,
Now putting all their enmity away.
Rinaldo next Sir Sansonet addrest,
Who somewhat later joined that fair array;
And (knowing well his force and mighty thew)
Received the cavalier with honour due.

XLII
When she, that gentle damsel, now more near,
Beholds renowned Rinaldo, him she knows,
Acquainted with each paladin and peer.
She news which sorely grieve the warrior shows;
And thus begin: "My lord, your cousin dear,
To whom its safety Church and Empire owes,
Roland, erewhile so honoured and so sage,
Now roves the world, possest with frantic rage.

XLIII
"Whence woe, so direful and so strange, ensued
Cannot by me to you be signified:
I saw on earth his sword and armour strewed,
Doffed by that peer, and scattered far and wide;
And I a pious knight and courteous viewed
Those arms collecting upon every side,
Who, in the guise of trophy, to a tree
Fastened that fair and pompous panoply.

XLIV
"But from the trophied stem the sword withdrew
The son of Agrican that very day.
Thou mayst conceive what mischief may ensue
To Charles and to the christened host's array,
From loss of Durindana, if anew
The infidels that goodly blade should sway.
Good Brigliador as well, who roved, forsaken,
About those arms, was by the paynim taken.

XLV
"Few days are past, since I in shameful wise
Saw Roland, running naked in his mood,
Sending forth piteous shrieks and fearful cries.
In fine, that he is frantic I conclude;
Nor this had I believed, save with these eyes
That strange and cruel wonder I had viewed. "
She added next, how from the bridge's top,
Embraced by Rodomont, she saw him drop.

XLVI
"To whosoe'er I deem not Roland's foe
I tell my tale," (pursued the dame again,)
"That, of the crowd who hear this cruel woe
Some one, in pity to his cruel pain,
May strive the peer in Paris to bestow,
Or other friendly place, to purge his brain.
Well wot I, if such tidings he receive,
Nought unattempted Brandimart will leave. "

XLVII
Fair Flordelice was she, the stranger dame;
That his own self to Brandimart more dear:
Who in pursuit of him to Paris came.
That damsel, after, tells the cavalier,
How hate and strife were blown into a flame
Between Gradasso and the Tartar peer,
For Roland's faulchion; fierce Gradasso's prey,
When slain in combat Mandricardo lay.

XLVIII
By accident, so strange and sad, distrust,
Rinaldo is distraught with ceaseless woe:
He feels his heart dissolve within his breast,
As in the sun dissolves the flake of snow;
And, with unchanged resolve, upon the quest
Of good Orlando, every where will go;
In hopes, if he discover him, to find
Some means of cure for his distempered mind.

XLIV
But since his band already had he dight,
(Did him the hand of Heaven or Fortune sway)
He first to put the Saracens to flight,
And raise the siege of Paris, will assay.
But (for it promised vantage) he till night
The assault of their cantonments will delay,
Till the third watch or fourth, when heavy sleep
Their senses shall in Lethe's water steep.

L
His squadron in the wood he placed, and there,
Ambushed, he made them lie the daylight through;
But when the sun, leaving this nether air
In darkness, to his ancient nurse withdrew;
And fangless serpent now, and goat, and bear,
With other beasts, adorned the heavens anew,
Which by the greater blaze had been concealed,
Rinaldo moved his silent troop afield.

LI
A mile an-end with Aquilant he prest,
Gryphon, Alardo, and Vivian of his race,
Guido and Sansonetto, and the rest,
Without word spoken, and with stealthy pace.
The Moorish guard they find with sleep opprest:
They slaughter all, nor grant one paynim grace;
And, ere they were by others seen or heard,
Into their midmost camp the squadron spurred.

LII
At the first charge on that unchristened band,
Their guard and sentries, taken by surprise,
So broken are by good Rinaldo's brand,
No wight is left, save he who slaughtered lies.
Their first post forced, the paynims understand
No laughing matter is the lord's emprize;
For. sleeping and dismaid, their naked swarms
Make small resistance to such warriors' arms.

LIII
To strike more dread into the Moorish foe,
Mount Alban's champion, leading the assault,
Bade beat his drums and bade his bugles blow,
And with loud echoing cries his name exalt.
He spurs Baiardo, that is nothing slow;
He clears the lofty barriers at a vault,
Trampling down foot, o'erturning cavalier,
And scatters booth and tent in his career.

LIV
Is none so bold of all that paynimry
But what his stiffened hair stands up on end,
Hearing Mount Alban's and Rinaldo's cry
From earth into the starry vault ascend.
Him the twin hosts of Spain and Afric fly,
Nor time in loading baggage idly spend;
Who will not wait that deadly fury more,
Which to have proved so deeply irks them sore.

LV
Guido succeeds; no less their foe pursue,
The valiant sons of warlike Olivier,
Alardo, Richardet, and the other two;
Sansonet's sword and horse a pathway clear;
And well is proved upon that paynim crew
The force of Vivian and of Aldigier.
Thus each bestirs himself like valorous knight,
Who follows Clermont's banner to the fight.

LVI
Seven hundred men with good Rinaldo speed,
Drawn from Mount Alban and the townships nigh
-- No fiercer erst obeyed Achilles' lead --
Enured to summer and to winter sky:
So stout each warrior is, so good at need,
A hundred would not from a thousand fly;
And, better than some famous cavaliers,
Many amid that squadron couch their spears.

LVII
If good Rinaldo gathers small supplies
From rents or cities, which his rule obey,
So these he bound by words and courtesies,
And sharing what he had with his array,
Is none that ever from his service buys
Deserter by the bribe of better pay.
Of Montalbano these are left in care,
Save pressing need demands their aid elsewhere.

LVIII
Them now in succour of King Charles he stirred,
And left with little guard his citadel.
Among the Africans that squadron spurred,
That squadron, of whose doughty feats I tell,
Doing by them what wolf on woolly herd
Does where Galesus' limpid waters well,
Or lion by the bearded goat and rank,
That feeds on Cinyphus's barbarous bank.

LIX
Tidings to Charles Rinaldo had conveyed,
That he for Paris with his squadron steers,
To assail, by night, the paynims ill purveyed;
And ready and in arms the king appears.
He, when his help is needed, comes in aid,
With all his peerage, and, beside his peers,
Brings Monodantes' son, amid that crew,
Of Flordelice the lover chaste and true;

LX
Whom by such long and by such tedious way
She sought throughout the realm of France in vain;
Here by the cognizance, his old display,
Afar, by her distinguished from the train.
At the first sight of her he quits the fray,
And wears a semblance loving and humane.
He clipt her round with many a fond caress,
And kissed a thousand times, or little less.

LXI
To dame and damsel in that ancient age
They trusted much, that, in their wandering vein,
Roved, unescorted, many a weary stage,
Through foreign countries and by hill and plain;
Whom they returning hold for fair and sage,
Nor of their faith suspicion entertain.
Here Brandimart by Flordelice was taught
How Roland wandered, of his wits distraught.

LXII
Had he such strange and evil tidings heard
From other lips, he scarce had these believed:
But credited fair Flordelice's word,
From whom more wondrous things he had received,
Nor this, as told by other, she averred;
This had she seen, and ill could be deceived;
For well as any she Orlando knows;
And both the when and where that damsel shows.

LXIII
She tells him how the perilous bridge's floor
From cavaliers king Rodomont defends;
Where, on a pompous sepulchre, the Moor
His prisoners' ravished arms and vest suspends;
Tells how she saw Orlando, raging sore,
Do fearful deeds, and her relation ends,
Describing how the paynim fell reversed,
To his great peril, in the stream immersed.

LXIV
Brandimart, who the Country loves as dear
As man can love a brother, friend, or son,
Disposed to seek Orlando, far and near,
Nor pain nor peril in the adventure shun,
Till something for the comfort of that peer
By wizard's or by leech's art be done,
Armed as he is, leaps lightly on his steed,
And takes his way beneath the lady's lead.

LXV
Thitherward were Orlando she had spied,
In company the knight and lady made.
They daily post till to that bridge they ride,
Which Argier's king maintained, in arms arraid,
To him the guard their coming signified;
Courser and arms his squires as well conveyed;
And Brandimart no sooner is at hand
Than Rodomont is armed and at his stand.

LXVI
With lofty voice the sovereign of Argier,
Assorting with his moody rage, 'gan say:
" -- Whoe'er thou art, sir knight, and whencesoe'er --
Brought by mistake of purpose or of way,
Light from thine horse and doff thy warlike gear,
To deck this sepulchre, ere thee I slay,
An offering to its lovely tenant's spirit;
And thou in thy forced homage have no merit. "

LXVII
Brandimart, at the paynim's proud discourse,
His weapon in the rest, for answer, layed;
He good Batoldo spurred, his gentle horse,
And at the champion with such fury made,
As showed that he, for courage and for force,
With any warrior in the world had weighed.
King Rodomont as well, with rested spear,
Thundered along the bridge, in fierce career.

LXVIII
The paynim's courser, ever used to go
Upon that bridge's fearful pass, where one
Fell prone parforce into the stream below,
Securely to the fierce encounter run:
While, trembling, and irresolute in show,
That other to the unwonted course is gone.
Quivers the bridge beneath, as it would sink:
Narrow that passage is, unfenced the brink!

LXIX
With heavy spears, the growth of forest hoar,
Saplings rough-hewn, those masters of the just,
Upon the perilous bridge encountering sore,
Exchange, on either side, no gentle thrust.
Nor much their mighty strength or manege-lore
Avails the steeds; for, prostrate in the dust,
Crumbles each knight and charger in mid-course;
Whelmed in one fate, the rider and his horse.

LXX
When either steed would nimbly spring from ground,
As the spur galled and gored his bleeding flank,
He on that little bridge no footing found;
For all to narrow was the scanty plank.
Hence both fall headlong, and the deafening sound
Re-echo vaulted skies and grassy bank.
So rang our stream, when from the heavenly sphere
Was hurled the sun's ill-fated charioteer.

LXXI
With all their weight, down hurtled from the steep,
Coursers and cavaliers, who sate them well;
And dived into the river's darksome deep,
To search for beauteous nymph in secret cell.
Nor this the first nor yet the second leap
Which from the bridge had made that infidel!
Who, often floundering in its oozy bed,
Well in the soundings of that stream was read.

LXXII
He where 'tis hand and where 'tis softer knows,
Where shallow is the water, where profound:
With breast and flanks above the waves he rose,
And Brandimart assailed on safer ground.
Brandimart, whirling with the current, goes,
While his steed's feet the faithless bottom pound.
He, with his lord, stands rooted in the mud,
With risk to both of drowning in the flood.

LXXIII
Whelming them upside-down, the waters flow,
And plunge them in the river's deepest bed;
The horse is uppermost, the knight below.
From the bridge looks his lady, sore bested,
And tear employs, and prayer, and suppliant vow:
-- "Ah, Rodomont! for love of her, whom dead
Ye worship, do not deed of such despite!
Permit not, sir, the death of such a knight.

LXXIV
"Ah! courteous lord! if e'er you loved withal,
Have pity upon me who love this peer;
Let it suffice that he become thy thrall!
For if thou on this stone suspend his gear,
Amid whatever spoils adorn the wall,
The best and worthiest will his spoils appear. "
She ended, and her prayer so well addrest,
It touched, though hard to move, the paynim's breast.

LXXV
Moved by her words, he lent her lover aid,
So by his courser in the stream immersed;
And largely drank, albeit with little thirst.
But Rodomont a while his help delayed,
And seized the warrior's sword and helmet first.
Him half exhausted from the stream he drew,
And prisoned with that other captive crew.

LXXVI
All happiness was in that damsel spent,
When taken she her Brandimart espied,
Although to see him captive more content,
Than to behold him perish in the tide.
None but herself she blames for the event,
Who thitherward had been the champion's guide,
She having to that faithful warrior shown,
How at the bridge Orlando she had known.

LXXVII
She parts, and has anew already planned
Thither with good Rinaldo to resort;
With Guido, Sansonet of doughty hand,
Or other cavalier of Pepin's court;
Some warrior good by water and by land,
That with the Saracen will well assort.
Who, if no stronger than her baffled knight,
With better fortune may maintain the fight.

LXXVIII
For many days the damsel vainly strayed,
Ere she encountered any one who bore
Semblance of knight, that might afford her aid,
And free her prisoned lover from the Moor;
After she long and fruitless search had made,
At length a warrior crost her way, that wore
A richly ornamented vest, whose ground
With trunks of cypresses was broidered round.

LXXIX
Who was that champion, shall be said elsewhere;
For I to Paris must return, and show
How Malagigi and Rinaldo are
Victorious o'er the routed Moorish foe.
To count the flyers were a useless care,
Or many drowned in Stygian streams below.
The darkness rendered Turpin's labour vain,
Who tasked himself to tell the pagans slain.

LXXX
King Agramant in his pavilion lies,
From his first sleep awakened by a knight:
He that the king will be a prisoner cries,
Save he with speed betake himself to flight,
The monarch looks about him and espies
His paynim bands dispersed in panic fright.
Naked, they far and near desert the field;
Nay, never halt to snatch the covering shield.

LXXXI
Uncounselled and confused, the king arrayed
His naked limbs in knightly plate and chain,
When thither Falsiron, the Spaniard, made
Grandonio, Balugantes, and their train:
They to the Moorish king the risk displayed
Of being taken in that press, or slain;
And vouched if thence he should in safety fare,
He well might thank propitious Fortune's care.

LXXXII
Marsilius so, Sobrino so, their fear
Express; so, one and all, the friendly band;
They warn him that Destruction is as near
As swift Mount Alban's lord is nigh at hand.
And if against so fierce a cavalier,
And such a troop, he seeks to make a stand,
He and his friends in that disastrous strife
Will surely forfeit liberty or life.

LXXXIII
But he to Arles and Narbonne may retreat,
With such few squadrons as his rule obey:
Since either is well fortified, and meet
The warfare to maintain above one day;
And having saved his person, the defeat
May venge upon the foe, by this delay:
His troops may rally quickly in that post,
And rout in fine King Charles' conquering host.

LXXXIV
Agramant to those lords' opinion bent,
Though that hard counsel he could ill endure;
As if supplied with wings, towards Arles he went,
By roads which offered passage most secure.
Beside safe guides, much favoured his intent
His setting out, when all things were obscure.
Scaping the toils by good Rinaldo spread,
Some twenty thousand of the paynims fled.

LXXXV
Those whom Rinaldo, whom his brethren slew,
Whom Oliviero's sons, the valiant twain,
Those who were slaughtered by Mount Alban's crew,
-- The fierce seven hundred, good Rinaldo's train --
Those whom the valiant Sansonet o'erthrew,
And those that in their flight were drowned in Seine,
He who would count, might count as well what flowers
Zephyr and Flora shed, mid April-showers.

LXXXVI
Here one conjectures Malagigi bore
A part in the alarum of that night:
Not that he stained the mead with paynim gore,
Nor splintered heads; but that the wizard wight,
Infernal angels, by his magic lore,
Called from Tartarean caverns into light;
Whose many spears and banners waving wide
Two kingdoms such as France had scarce supplied.

LXXXVII
And with them such sonorous metal brayed,
So many drums and martial noises sounded;
So many steeds in that encounter neighed;
So many cries -- with rush of foot confounded --
Rose all about, that hill, dale, wood, and glade,
From distant parts, the deafening din rebounded;
And struck into the Moors such sudden dread,
They turned and from the field in panic fled.

LXXXVIII
Their king forgets no, how Rogero lay
Sore wounded, and as yet in evil case.
Him, with what care they could, he made convey
From that dread field, on horse of easy pace.
Borne to the sea by the securest way,
They in a bark the suffering warrior place,
And thence commodiously to Arles transport;
Whither their wasted squadrons make resort.

LXXXIX
Chased by Rinaldo and King Charlemagne,
A hundred thousand, or well nigh, I ween,
By wood, by mountain, valley, and by plain,
Flying the fury of the Franks are seen;
More find the passage blocked, and widely stain
With crimson what before was white and green.
Not so Gradasso's puissant troops was spent,
Who farther from the field had pitched his tent.

XC
Nay; when he hears it is Mount Alban's knight
By whom assailed the paynim quarters are,
He in his heart exults, with such delight,
That he, for very joy, leaps here and there.
He thanks and lauds his God, who him that night
Blest with so high a fortune and so rare;
Hoping to win the horse without a peer,
Baiardo, from the Christian cavalier.

XCI
Gradasso had desired long time before
(I think you will have read the tale elsewhere)
To back that courser, which Rinaldo bore,
And Durindana by his side to wear:
He with a hundred thousand men and more
To France, with this design, had made repair;
And had erewhile to bloody fight defied,
Even for that good steed, Mount Alban's pride.

XCII
Hence had that king repaired to the sea-shore,
The place assigned to end their discord fell:
But all was marred by Malagigi's lore;
Who, cheating good Rinaldo with a spell,
To sea the champion in a pinnace bore.
Too tedious were the tale at length to tell.
Hence evermore Gradasso had opined,
The gentle baron was of craven kind.

XCIII
Now that Gradasso learns Mount Alban's peer
Is he, that storms the camp, in huge delight,
Armed, on Alfana leaps the cavalier,
And through the pitchy darkness seeks the knight,
O'erturning all who cross his fierce career,
He leaves afflicted and in piteous plight
The broken bands of Afric and of France.
All, food alike for his wide-wasting lance.

XCIV
He seeks the paladin, now here now there,
Echoing his name as loud as he can shout;
And thitherward inclines his courser, where
The bodies are most thickly strown about.
At length encounter, sword to sword, the pair,
For broken are alike their lances stout;
Which shivering in their hands, had flown upright.
And smote the starry chariot of the Night.

XCV
When King Gradasso recognized the foe,
Not by the blazoned bearing of his shield,
But by Baiardo -- by that horrid blow,
Which made him seem sole champion of the field,
He to reproach the knight was nothing slow,
And of unworthy action him appealed;
In that he had not kept his ground and day,
Erewhile appointed for the fierce assay.

XCVI
"Belike thou hoped," (said he of Sericane,)
"If for that time my vengeance thou couldst fly,
We should not meet in this wide world again:
But we are met, thou seest, anew; and I,
Be sure, though thou shouldst seek the Stygian reign,
Or be from earth translated to the sky,
Will hunt thee, save that courser thou forego,
Be it through heaven above or hell below.

XCVII
"Dost thou, as matched with me mistrust thy force,
(And that thou wert ill paired was seen whilere,)
And more esteemest life than fame, a course
Remains, which thee may from thy peril clear.
And thou, if thou in peace resign the horse,
May'st live, if life be deemed so passing dear;
But live afoot, unmeriting a steed,
That dost by chivalry such foul misdeed. "

XCVIII
Guido the savage, as he spake, was nigh
With Richardetto; and the warlike twain
Brandished alike their trenchant swords on high,
To teach more wit to him of Sericane:
But them Rinaldo stopt with sudden cry,
Nor brooked that he should injury sustain.
"Am I too weak," (he cried,) "without your aid,
To answer him that dares my deeds upbraid? "

XCIX
Then to the pagan thus: "Gradasso hear,
And wilt thou listen, thou shalt understand,
And I will prove it manifest and clear,
I came to seek thee out upon the strand;
And afterwards on thee will made appear
The truth of all I say with arms in hand;
Know then thou liest, if e'er with slanderous speech
Thou taxest me with aught in knighthood's breach.

C
"But warmly I beseech thee, that before
The battle be, thou fully comprehend
My just excuses, that thou may'st no more
Me for my failure wrongly reprehend:
Next for Baiardo, as agreed of yore,
'Tis my desire that we afoot contend;
Even as ordained by thee, in desert place,
Alone in knightly duel, face to face. "

CI
Courteous was Sericana's cavalier,
(For generous bosoms aye such practise use)
And is content to listen to the peer,
How he his breach of promise will excuse.
With him he seeks the river side, and here
In simple words what chanced Rinaldo shews;
Form the true history removes the veil,
And cites all Heaven to witness to his tale.

CII
Next calls upon the son of Buovo, who
Is of that history informed aright;
And now, from point to point, relates anew
(Nor more nor less rehearsed) the magic sleight.
When thus Rinaldo: "What I warrant true
By witness, I with arms in single fight,
For better proof, will vouch upon thy crest,
Both now and ever, as it likes thee best. "

CIII
The king of Sericane, as loath to leave
The second quarrel for the former breach,
Though doubtful how that tale he should receive,
Takes in good part the bold Rinaldo's speech.
Not, as upon the former battle's eve,
They choose their ground on Barcellona's beach:
But on the morn ensuing, and, fast by
A neighbouring fountain, will the question try.

CIV
Thither Rinaldo will the steed convey,
There to be placed in common, 'twixt the two.
If good Gradasso take his foe or slay,
He wins Baiardo without more ado.
But if Gradasso fails in that affray,
-- Should he be slain, or else for mercy sue,
A prisoner to Mount Alban's valiant lord,
Rinaldo shall possess the virtuous sword.

CV
With mighty marvel and with greater pain,
The paladin from Flordelice (as shown)
Had heard how troubled was his cousin's brain.
And from the damsel's lips as well had known
How he his arms had scattered on the plain;
And heard the quarrel which from thence had grown;
In fine, how King Gradasso had the brand,
Which won such thousand palms in Roland's hand.

CVI
When they so agreed, Gradasso made
Thither where, camped apart, his servants lay,
Albeit warmly by Rinaldo prayed,
He would with him in his pavillion stay.
The paynim king in armour was arrayed,
And so the paladin, by break of day;
And to the destined fount came either lord,
The field of combat for the horse and sword.

CVII
It seemed Rinaldo's friends were all in fear,
And dreaded much, before it was begun,
The issue of the fight their cavalier
Should wage against Gradasso, one to one.
Much force, much daring, and much skill appear
In that fierce king; and since of Milo's son
The goodly sword was to his girdle tied,
All cheeks looked pale upon Rinaldo's side;

CVIII
And Malagigi, more than all the rest,
Sore doubted the event which would ensue,
He willingly himself would have addrest
To disappoint the destined fight anew;
But fears if he that deadly strife arrest,
Rinaldo's utter enmity to rue,
Yet wroth with him upon that other score,
When he conveyed the warrior from the shore.

CIX
Let others nourish idle grief and fears!
Rinaldo wends afield secure and gay,
Hoping that shame, which to the knight appears
Too foul to be endured, to wipe away:
So that of Altafoglia and Poictiers,
He may for ever silence the mis-say.
Boldly, and in his heart secure to win
That battle's honour, wends the paladin.

CX
When now from either side those warriors meet,
Nigh at the same time at the fountain-side,
So in all points the pair each other greet,
With countenance, so kind, so satisfied,
'Twould seem by kindred and by friendship sweet
Rinaldo and Gradasso were allied.
But how they after closed in fierce affray,
I till another season shall delay.


CANTO 32

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


CANTO 33

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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