No More Learning

CXIX
"He in wide circles doth about her wind,
Hoping now here, now there, to spy some trace:
But nought in the beginning can he find,
With whatsoever care he sifts the case.
For she, as not unpractised in that kind,
Denies, and fronts him with untroubled face;
And, as well taught, above a month stands out,
Holding the judge 'twixt certainty and doubt.

CXX
"How blest would doubt appear, had he that wound
Foreseen, which would be given by certainty!
When out of that false nurse at last he found
He could not fish the truth by prayer or fee,
Touching no chord but yielded a false sound,
He shrewdly waits his time till there should be
Discord between the beldam and his wife:
For whereso women are, is stir and strife.

CXXI
"And even that Anselmo waited, so
Befell; since, angered by the first despite,
Unsought of him, to him that nurse did go,
To tell the whole; and nothing hid from sight.
How sank his heart beneath that cruel blow,
'Twere long to say; how prostrate lay his sprite.
So was the wretched judge with grief opprest,
He of his wits well-nigh was dispossest;

CXXII
"And finally resolved to die, so burned
His rage, but first would kill the faithless dame;
And he with one destructive faulchion yearned
To free himself from woe and her from shame.
Stung by such blind and furious thoughts, returned
Anselmo to the city, in a flame;
And to the farm despatched a follower true,
Charged with the bidding he was bound to do.

CXXIII
"He bids the servant to the villa go,
And to Argia in his name pretend,
He by a fever is reduced so low,
She hardly can arrive before his end.
Hence without waiting escort -- would she show
Her love -- she with his man must backward wend,
(Wend with him will she surely, nor delay)
And bids him cut her throat upon the way.

CXXIV
"The serving man to call his lady went
Prepared his lord's command on her to do.
Having her little dog at starting hent,
She mounted and began her journey, through
The dog advised of Anselm's ill intent,
But bid no less her purpose to pursue;
For he had taken thought for her; and aid
Should in the time of peril be purveyed.

CXXV
"The servant from his pathway turns aside,
And through bye-roads and solitary goes;
Purposely lighting on a stream, whose tide
From Apennine into our river flows;
Where, both of farm and busy city wide,
A holt, and dark and dismal greenwood grows.
Silent appeared the gloomy place, and one
Fitting the cruel deed which should be done.

CXXVI
"He drew his sword on her, and signified
The mandate by her angry husband given;
That so she might entreat, before she died,
Forgiveness of her every sin from Heaven.
I know not how; she vanished from his side,
When through her flank the blade he would have driven.
Vainly long time he seeks her, then remains
Foiled and outscorned, for guerdon of his pains.

CXXVII
"He all astound and with bewildered face,
And full of shame, to seek his lord returns;
Who from the servant that unwonted case,
Unweeting how the thing had happened, learns;
Nor knows the fairy Manto fills a place
About Argia, prompt to serve her turns.
Because the nurse, that all the rest revealed
(I know not wherefore, I), had this concealed.

CXXVIII
"He knows not what to do: the outrage sore
Avenged he has not, nor his pain allaid:
What was a mote is now a beam; so sore
It prest him; on his heart so heavy weighed.
So plain is what was little known before,
He fears that it will shortly be displaid.
At first, he haply might have hid his woe;
Which Rumour now throughout the world will blow.

CXXIX
"Full well he wots, that since his evil vein
He to his wife, unhappy wretch! hath shown,
Not to be subject to his yoke again,
She to some strong protector will have flown;
Who to his ignominy will maintain,
And utter scorn, the lady as his own:
And haply may she to some losel flee,
Who will her paramour and pander be.

CXXX
"For remedy, he sends in haste a band
Of messengers, with letters far and nigh.
Some of Argia here, some there demand;
Nor town unsearched is left in Lombardy.
Next he in person goes; nor any land
Leaves unexamined by himself or spy.
Yet cannot he discover means or way
For learning where concealed his consort lay.

CXXXI
"The servant last he called on whom was laid
The ill hest, but who had served not his despite;
And thither by his guidance was conveyed,
Where (as 'twas said) she vanished from his sight;
Who haply lurked by day in greenwood-shade,
And to some friendly roof retired at night.
He thither guided, where but forest-trees
He thinks to find, a sumptuous palace sees.

CXXXII
"This while for bright Argia in that part
The fay had made with speedy toil prepare
An alabaster palace by her art,
Gilded within, without, and everywhere.
So wonderful, no tongue could tell, no heart
Conceive, how rich within, without how fair:
That, which thou deemed so fair, my master's home,
Is but a cottage to that costly dome.

CXXXIII
"Curtain and cloth of arras deck the wall,
Sumptuously woven and in different wise,
In vaulted cellar and in littered stall;
Not only spread in latticed galleries,
Not only spread in lordly bower and hall.
Vase, gold and silver, gems of many dyes,
Carved into cup and charger, blue, red, green,
And countless cloths of silk and gold are seen.

CXXXIV
"He chanced upon the costly dome (as I
To you was in my story making known)
When he expected not a hut to spy,
And but a weary waste of woodland lone.
As he beheld the dome with wondering eye,
Anselmo thought his intellects were gone:
That he was drunk, or dreamed that wondrous sight
He weened, of that his wits had taken flight.

CXXXV
"An Aethiop woman posted at the door,
With blubber lip and nostril, he descries.
Nor will he see again, nor e'er before
Had seen a visage of such loathsome guise:
Ill-favoured -- such was Aesop feigned of yore:
If there, she would have saddened Paradise.
Greasy and foul and beggarly her vest;
Nor half her hideousness have I exprest.

CXXXVI
"Anselm, who saw no other wight beside
To tell who was that mansion's lord, drew nigh
To the Aethiopian, and to her applied;
And she: `The owner of this house am I. '
The judge was well assured the negress lied,
And made that answer but in mockery:
But with repeated oaths the negress swears;
'Tis hers, and none with her the mansions shares;

CXXXVII
"And would he see the palace, him invites
To view it at his ease; and recommends
If there be ought within which him delights,
To take it for himself or for his friends.
Anselmo hears, and from his horse alights,
Gives it his man; and o'er the threshold wends;
And by the hag conducted, mounts from hall
Below to bower above, admiring all.

CXXXVIII
"Form, site, and sumptuous work doth he behold,
And royal ornament and fair device;
And oft repeats, not all this wide world's gold
To buy the egregious mansion wound suffice.
To him in answer said that negress old:
'And yet this dome, like others, hath its prize;
If not in gold and silver, price less high
Than gold and silver will the palace buy':

CXXXIX
"And she to him prefers the same request,
Which erst Adonio to Argia made.
A fool he deemed the woman and possest,
Who for a boon so foul and filthy prayed.
Yet ceased she not, though more than thrice represt;
And strove so well Anselmo to persuade,
Proffering, for his reward, the palace still,
She wrought on him to do her evil will.

CXL
"The wife Argia, that is hid fast by,
When in such sin her husband she descries,
Of doctor, that was deemed so passing wise,
Springs forth and saith: `Ah! worthy deed! which I
Found in such foul and filthy work, espy! '
Bethink thee, if his kindling blushes rise;
If he stands mute! why opens not thy hollow
And central womb, O earth, the wretch to swallow?

CXLI
"To clear herself and shame him, doth she stun
Anselmo, never ceasing to upbraid.
`What pain should by thyself be undergone
For this so filthy deed, (Argia said)
If thou would'st take my life for having done
What Nature prompted and a lover prayed;
One that was fair and gentle, and who brought
A gift, compared wherewith, this dome is nought?

CXLII
" `If worthy of one death thou deemest me,
Worthy art thou a hundred deaths to die:
And, though my pleasure might I do on thee,
So passing puissant in this place am I,
No other or worse vengeance done shall be
Upon my side, on thy delinquency.
The give against the take, O husband, place;
And, as 'twas granted thee, so grant me grace:

CXLIII
" `And be there peace between us, and accord
That all be to forgetfulness consigned;
Nor thee I of thy fault by deed or word,
Nor me of mine, henceforward thou remind! '
This seemed a goodly bargain to her lord;
Nor to such pardon was he disinclined.
Thus peace and concord they at home restore,
And love each other dearly evermore. "

CXLIV
So said the mariner, and some brief fit
Of laughter in Montalban's master stirred;
And made his visage burn, as if 'twas lit
With fire, when of Anselmo's shame he heard.
Rinaldo greatly praised Argia's wit,
Who by such quaint device had trapped that bird;
Who fell into the net wherein the dame
Herself erewhile had fallen, but with less shame.

CXLV
When the sun climbed a steeper road, the knight
Ordered the board with food to be supplied,
Which the good Mantuan landlord overnight
Took care with largest plenty to provide;
While the fair town, upon the left, from sight
Retired, and on the right that marish wide.
Argenta is come and gone, with circling walls
And stream into whose bed Santerno falls.

CXLVI
Then was not fair Bastia built, deem I,
Which little cause of boast affords to Spain
(That there her banner has been raised on high),
And causes deeper sorrow to Romagne.
Thence in strait line their bark, that seems to fly,
To the right shore the boatmen drive amain:
Next through a stagnant channel make, that near
Ravenna brings by noon the cavalier.

CXLVII
Though oft of money he had small supply,
Then was the knight so well bested, he made
The weary rowers, in his courtesy,
A parting present, ere farewell was said.
Here changing horse and guide, to Rimini
Rinaldo rode that very eye, nor stayed
In Montefiore till the night was done;
And well nigh reached Urbino with the sun.

CXLVIII
Then Frederick was not there of gentle lore,
Nor was Elizabeth nor Guido good;
Francis Maria nor sage Leonore;
Who would in courteous, not in haughty mood,
Have forced so famed a paladin for more
Than one short eye, with them to make abode;
As they long did, and do unto this day,
By dames and cavaliers who pass that way.

CXLIX
Since here none takes his rein, Rinaldo bends
His course an-end to Cagli; o'er the height,
Rifted by Gaurus and Metaurus, wends
Past Apennine, no longer on his right,
Umbri and Tuscans; and at Rome descends.
From Rome to Ostia goes Montalban's knight:
Thence to the city sails; wherein a grave
His pious son to old Anchises gave.

CL
There changes back; and thence in haste he goes
Bound towards Lampedosa's island-shore,
That place of combat chosen by the foes,
And where they had encountered Frank and Moor.
Rinaldo grants his boatmen no repose;
That do what can be done by sail and oar.
But with ill wind and strong the warrior strives;
And, though by little, there too late arrives.

CLI
Thither he came what time Anglante's peer
The useful and the glorious deed had done;
Had slain those paynim kings in the career,
But had a hard and bloody conquest won:
Dead was Sir Brandimart; and Olivier,
Dangerously hurt and sore, sate woe-begone,
Somedeal apart, upon the sandy ground,
Martyred and crippled by his cruel wound.

CLII
From tears could not the mournful Count refrain,
When brave Rinaldo he embraced, and said,
How in the battle Brandimart was slain.
Such love, such faith endeared the warrior dead.
Nor less Rinaldo's tears his visage stain
When he so cleft beholds their comrade's head.
Thence to embrace bold Oliviero, where
He sits with wounded foot, he makes repair.

CLIII
All comfort that he could he gave; though none
Could good Rinaldo to himself afford;
Because he came but when the feast was done;
Yea after the removal of the board.
The servants wend to the demolished town,
There hide the bones of either paynim lord
Beneath Biserta's ruined domes, and nigh
And far, the fearful tidings certify.

CLIV
At the fair conquest won by Roland's blade,
Sansonet and Astolpho make great cheer;
Yet other mirth those warriors would have made
Had Brandimart not perished; when they hear
That he is dead, their joy is so allayed
They can no more the troubled visage clear.
Which of them now the tidings of such woe
To the unhappy Flordelice shall show?

CLV
The night preceding that ill-omened day
Flordelice dreamed the vest of sable grain
That she had made, her husband to array,
And woven with her hand and worked with pain,
Before her eyes all sprinkled-over lay
With ruddy drops, in guise of pattering rain.
That she had worked it so the lady thought;
And then was grieved at seeing what was wrought.

CLVI
And seemed to say, "Yet from my lord have I
Command to make it all of sable hue;
Now wherefore it is stained with other dye
Against his will, in mode so strange to view? "
She from that dream draws evil augury;
And thither on that eve the tidings flew:
But these concealed Astolpho from the dame
Till he to her with Sansonetto came.

CLVII
When they are entered, and she sees no show
Of joyful triumphs, she, without a word,
Without a hint to indicate that woe,
Knows that no longer living is her lord.
With that her gentle heart was riven so,
And so her harassed eyes the light abhorred,
And so was every other sense astound,
That, like one dead, she sank upon the ground.

CLVIII
She in her hair, when life returns again,
Fastens her hand; and on her lovely cheeks,
Repeating the beloved name in vain,
With all her force her scorn and fury wreaks;
Uproots and tears, her locks, and in her pain
Like woman, smit by evil demon, shrieks,
Or, as Bacchante at the horn's rude sound,
Erewhile was seen to run her restless round.

CLIX
Now to the one, to the other now her prayer
She made for knife, wherewith her heart to smite;
Now she aboard the pinnace would repair
That brought the corse of either paynim knight,
And would on either, lifeless as they were,
Do cruel scathe, and vent her fierce despite.
Now would she seek her lord, till at his side
She rested from her weary search, and died.

CLX
"Ah! wherefore, Brandimart, did I let thee
Without me wend on such a dire emprize?
She ne'er before did thy departure see,
But Flordelice aye followed thee," she cries:
"Well aided mightest thou have been by me;
For I on thee should still have kept my eyes;
And when Gradasso came behind thee, I
Thee might have succoured with a single cry;

CLXI
"And haply I so nimbly might have made
Between you, that the stroke I might have caught,
And with my head, as with a buckler, stayed:
For little ill my dying would have wrought.
Anyhow I shall die; and -- that debt paid --
My melancholy death will profit nought:
When, had I died, defending thee in strife,
I could not better have bestowed my life.

CLXII
"Even is averse had been hard Destiny,
And all heaven's host, when thee I sought to aid,
At least my tears had bathed thy visage, I
Should the last kiss thereon, at least, have laid;
And, ere amid the blessed hierarchy
Thy spirit mixt, `Depart' -- I should have said --
`In peace, and wait me in thy rest; for there,
Where'er thou art, I swiftly shall repair. '

CLXIII
"Is this, O Brandimart, is this the reign,
Whose honoured sceptre thou wast now to take?
With thee to Dommogire, thy fair domain,
Thus went I; me thus welcome dost thou make?
Alas! what hope to-day thou renderest vain!
Ah! what designs, fell Fortune, dost thou break!
Ah! wherefore fear I, since a lot so blest,
Is lost, to lose as well the worthless rest? "

CLXIV
Repeating this and other plaint, so spite
And fury waxed, that she in her despair
Made new assault upon her tresses bright,
As if the fault was wholly in her hair:
Wildly her hands together doth she smite,
And gnaw; with nails her lip and bosom tear.
But I return to Roland and his peers;
While she bemoans herself and melts in tears.

CLXV
Roland with Olivier, who much requires
Such leech's care, his anguish to allay;
And who, himself, some worthy place desires
As much, wherein Sir Brandimart to lay,
Steers for the lofty mountain, that with fires
Brightens the night, with smoke obscures the day.
The wind blows fair, and on the starboard hand,
Not widely distant from them, lies that land.

CLXVI
With a fresh wind, that in their favour blows,
They loose their hawser at the close of day:
In heaven above the silent goddess shows
Her shining horn, to guide them on their way;
And on the following morn before them rose
The pleasant shores that round Girgenti lay.
Here Roland orders for the ensuing night
All that is needful for the funeral rite.

CLXVII
He, when he saw his order duly done,
And now the westering sun's fair light was spent.
With many nobles, who from neighbouring town,
At his invital, to Girgenti went,
-- The shore with torches blazing up and down,
And sounding wide with cries and loud lament, --
Thither returned where late, of life bereft,
His friends, beloved in life and death, was left.

CLXVIII
There stands Bardino, weeping o'er the bier,
Who under Age's heavy burden bows;
Who, in the tears on shipboard shed whilere.
Might well have wept away his eyes and brows:
Upbraiding skies and stars, the cavalier,
Like lion, in whose veins a fever glows,
Roars as he wreathes his wayward hands within
His hoary hair, and rends his wrinkled skin.

CLXIX
Upon the paladin's return the cry
Redoubled, and the mourning louder grew
Orlando to the corse approached more nigh,
And speechless stood awhile, his friends to view,
Pale, as at eve is the acanthus' dye
Or lily's, which were plucked at morn: he drew
A heavy sigh, and on the warrior dead
Fixing his stedfast eyes, the County said:

CLXX
"O comrade bold and true, there here liest slain,
And who dost live in heaven above, I know,
Rewarded with a life, thy glorious gain,
Which neither heat nor cold can take, my woe
Forgive, if thou beholdest me complain:
Because I sorrow to remain below,
And not to share in such delights with thee;
Not that thou art not left behind with me.

CLXXI
"Alone, without thee, there is nought I may
Ever possess, without thee, that can please.
If still with thee in tempest and affray,
Ah wherefore not with thee in calm and ease?
Right sore must be my trespass, since this clay
Will not to follow thee my soul release.
If in thy troubles still I bore a burden,
Why am I not a partner of thy guerdon?

CLXXII
"Thine is the guerdon; mine the loss; thy gain
Is single; but not single is my woe:
Partners with me in sorrow are Almayne,
And grieving France and Italy; and oh!
How will my lord and uncle, Charlemagne,
How will his paladins lament the blow!
How will the Christian church and empire moan,
Whose best defence in thee is overthrown!

CLXXIII
"Oh! how thy foes will by the death of thee
Be freed henceforward from alarm and fear!
Alas! how strengthened paynimry will be!
What hardiment will now be theirs! what cheer!
What of thy consort will become? I see
Even here her mourning, and her outcries hear.
Me she accuses, haply hates, I know;
In that, through me, her every hope lies low.

CLXXIV
"Yet by one comfort, Flordelice, is followed
His loss, for us that reft of him remain:
His death, with such surpassing glory hallowed,
To die all living warriors should be fain.
Those Decii; Curtius, in Rome's forum swallowed;
Cordus, so vaunted by the Grecian train;
Not with more honour to themselves, with more
Profit to others, went to death of yore. "

CLXXV
These sad laments and more Orlando made;
And all this while white friars, and black, and gray,
With other clerks, by two and two arrayed,
Behind in long procession took their way;
And they to God for the departed prayed,
That he would to his rest his soul convey.
Before and all about were torches reared,
And changed to day the sable night appeared.

CLXXVI
They raise the warrior's bier, and ranged to bear
By turns that honoured weight were earl and knight.
The pall was purple silk, with broidery rare
Of gold, and pearls in costly circles dight.
Thereon, of lordly work and no less fair,
Cushions were laid, with jewels shining bright.
On which was stretched the lifeless knight in view,
Arrayed in vest of like device and hue.

CLXXVII
A hundred men had past before the rest,
All taken from the poorest of the town;
And in one fashion equally were drest
Those beadsmen all, in black and trailing gown.
A hundred pages followed them, who prest
A hundred puissant steeds, for warfare bown;
And by those pages backed, the portly steeds
Went, sweeping wide the ground with sable weeds.

CLXXVIII
Banners in front and banners borne in rear,
Whose fields with diverse ensignry is stained,
Unfurled accompany the funeral bier;
Which from a thousand vanquished bands were gained,
For Caesar and for Peter's church whilere,
By that rare force, which now extinct remained.
Bucklers by other followers carried are,
Won from good warriors, whose device they bear.

CLXXIX
By hundreds and by hundreds followed more,
Ordained for different tasks, the steps of those;
Who burning torches like those others bore.
Mantled, say rather closely muffled, goes
Roland in sables next, and evermore
His eyes suffused and red with weeping shows.
Nor wears a gladder face Montalban's peer.
At home his wound detains Sir Olivier.

CLXXX
The ceremonies would be long to say
In verse, wherewith Sir Brandimart was mourned;
The mantles, black or purple, given away;
The many torches which that eve were burned.
Wending to the cathedral, where the array
Past on its road, were no dry eyes discerned:
All sexes, ages, ranks, in pitying mood
Gazed upon him so youthful, fair, and good.

CLXXXI
He in the church was placed; and, when with vain
Lament the women had bemoaned the dead,
And Kyrie Eleison, by the priestly train,
And other holy orisons were said,
In a fair ark, upraised on columns twain,
Was reared, with sumptuous cloth of gold o'erspread.
So willed Orlando; till he could be laid
In sepulchre of costlier matter made:

CLXXXII
Nor out of Sicily the Count departs,
Till porphyries he procures and alabasters,
And fair designs; and in their several arts
Has with large hire engaged the primest masters.
Next Flordelice, arriving in those parts,
Raises the quarried slabs and rich pilasters;
Who, good Orlando being gone before,
Is hither wafted from the Africk shore.

CLXXXIII
She, seeing that her tears unceasing flow,
And that of long lament she never tires;
Nor she, for mass or service said, her woe
Can ease, or satisfy her sad desires,
Vows in her heart she thence will never go
Till from the wearied corse her soul expires;
And builds in that fair sepulchre a cell;
There shuts herself; therein for life will dwell.

CLXXXIV
Thither in person, having courier sent
And letter, Roland goes, her thence to take;
Her, would she wend to France, with goodly rent
Would gift, and Galerana's inmate make;
As far as Lizza convoy her, if bent
On journeying to her father; for her sake
If wholly she to serve her God was willed,
A monastery would the warrior build.

CLXXXV
Still in that sepulchre she dwelt, and worn
By weary penance, praying night and day,
It was not long, ere by the Parcae shorn
Was her life's thread: already on their way
Were the three Christian warriors, homeward borne,
Sorrowing and afflicted sore in mind
For their fourth comrade who remained behind.

CLXXXVI
They would not go without a leech, whose skill
Might ease the wound of warlike Olivier;
Which, as in the beginning it could ill
Be salved, is hard to heal. Meanwhile they hear
The champion so complain, his outcries fill
Orlando and all that company with fear.
While they discoursed thereon, the skipper, moved
By a new notion, said what all approved.

CLXXXVII
A hermit not far distance hence, he said
A lonely rock inhabits in this sea;
Whose isle none, seeking succour, vainly tread,
Whether for counsel or for aid it be:
Who hath done superhuman deeds; the dead
Restores to life; and makes the blind to see;
Hushes the winds; and with a sign o' the cross
Lulls the loud billows when they highest toss;

CLXXXVIII
And adds they need not doubt, if they will go
To seek that holy man to God so dear,
But he on Olivier will health bestow;
Having his virtue proved by signs more clear.
This counsel pleases good Orlando so,
That for the holy place he bids him steer;
Who never swerving from his course, espies
The lonely rock, upon Aurora's rise.

CLXXXIX
Worked by good mariners, the bark was laid
Safely beside the rugged rock and fell:
The marquis there, with crew and servants' aid,
They lowered into their boat; and through the swell
And foaming waters in that shallop made
For the rude isle; thence sought the holy cell;
The holy cell of that same hermit hoar,
By whom Rogero was baptized before.

CXC
The servant of the Lord of Paradise
Receives Orlando and the rest on land;
Blesses the company in cheerful wise;
And after of their errand makes demand;
Though he already had received advice
From angels of the coming of that band.
That they were thither bound in search of aid
For Oliviero's hurt, Orlando said;

CXCI
Who, warring for the Christian faith, in fight
To perilous pass was brought by evil wound.
All dismal fear relieved that eremite,
And promised he would make him wholly sound.
In that no unguents hath the holy wight,
Nor is in other human medicine found,
His church he seeks, his knee to Jesus bows,
And issues from the fane with cheerful brows;

CXCII
And in the name of those eternal Three,
The Father, and the Son, and Holy Ghost,
On Oliviero bade his blessing be.
Oh! grace vouchsafed to faith! his sainted host
From every pain the paladin did free;
And to his foot restored its vigour lost.
He moved more nimble than before, and sure;
And present was Sobrino at the cure.

CXCIII
Sobrino, so diseased that he described
How worse with each succeeding day he grew,
As soon as he that holy monk espied
The manifest and mighty marvel do,
Disposed himself to cast Mahound aside,
And own in Christ a living God and true.
He, full of faith, with contrite heart demands
Our holy rite of baptism at his hands.

CXCIV
So him baptized the hermit; and as well
That monarch made as vigorous as whilere.
At this conversion no less gladness fell
On Roland and each Christian cavalier,
Than when, restored from deadly wound, and well
The friendly troop beheld Sir Olivier.
Rogero more rejoiced than all that crew;
And still in faith and grace the warrior grew.

CXCV
Rogero from the day he swam ashore
Upon that islet, there had ever been.
That band is counselled by the hermit hoar,
Who stands, benign, those warlike knights between,
Eschewing in their passage mire and moor,
To wade withal through that dead water, clean,
Which men call life; wherein so fools delight;
And evermore on heaven to fix their sight.

CXCVI
Roland on shipboard sends one from his throng,
Who fetches hence good wine, hams, cheese, and bread;
And makes the sage, who had forgotten long
All taste of partridge since on fruits he fed,
Even do for love, what others did, among
Those social guests for whom the board was spread.
They, when their strength by food was reinforced,
Of many things amid themselves discoursed;

CXCVII
And as in talk it often doth befall
That one thing from another takes its rise,
Roland and Olivier Rogero call
To mind for that Rogero, in such wise
Renowned in arms; whose valour is of all
Lauded and echoed with accordant cries.
Not even had Rinaldo known the knight
For him whose prowess he had proved in fight.

CXCVIII
Him well Sobrino recognized whilere,
As soon as with that aged man espied;
But he at first kept silence; for in fear
Of some mistake the monarch's tongue was tied.
But when those others knew the cavalier
For that Rogero, famous far and wide,
Whose courtesy, whose might and daring through
The universal world loud Rumor blew,

CXCIX
All, for they know he is a Christian, stand
About him with serene and joyful face:
All press upon the knight; one grasps his hand;
Another locks him fast in his embrace:
Yet more than all the others of that band
Him would Montalban's lord caress and grace:
Why more than all the others will appear
In other strain, if you that strain will hear.


CANTO 44

ARGUMENT
Rinaldo his sister to the Child hath plight,
And to Marseilles is with the warrior gone:
And having crimsoned wide the field in fight,
Therein arrives King Otho's valiant son.
To Paris thence: where to that squadron bright
Is mighty grace and wonderous honour done.
The Child departs, resolved on Leo's slaughter,
To whom Duke Aymon had betrothed his daughter.


I
In poor abode, mid paltry walls and bare,
Amid discomforts and calamities,
Often in friendship heart united are,
Better than under roof of lordly guise,
Or in some royal court, beset with snare,
Mid envious wealth, and ease, and luxuries;
Where charity is spent on every side,
Nor friendship, unless counterfeit, is spied.

II
Hence it ensues that peace and pact between
Princes and peers are of such short-lived wear.
To-day king, pope, and emperor leagued are seen,
And on the marrow deadly foemen are.
Because such is not as their outward mien
The heart, the spirit, that those sovereigns bear.
Since, wholly careless as to right or wrong,
But to their profit look the faithless throng.

III
Though little prone to friendship is that sort,
Because with those she loveth not to dwell,
Who, be their talk in earnest or in sport,
Speak not, except some cozening tale to tell;
Yet if together in some poor resort
They prisoned are by Fortune false and fell,
What friendship is they speedily discern;
Though years had past, and this was yet to learn.

IV
In his retreat that ancient eremite
Could bind his inmates with a faster noose,
And in true love more firmly them unite,
Than other could in domes where courtiers use;
And so enduring was the knot and tight,
That nothing short of death the tie could loose.
Benignant all the hermit found that crew;
Whiter at heart than swans in outward hue.

V
All kind he found them, and of courteous lore;
Untainted with iniquity, in wise
Of them I painted, and who nevermore
Go forth, unless concealed in some disguise.
Of injuries among them done before
All memory, by those comrades buried lies:
Nor could they better love, if from one womb
And from one seed that warlike band had come.

VI
Rinaldo more than all that lordly train
Rogero graced and lovingly caressed;
As well because be on the listed plain
Had proved the peer so strong in martial gest,
As that he was more courteous and humane
Than any knight that e'er laid lance in rest:
But much more; that to him on many a ground
By mighty obligation was he bound.

VII
The fearful risk by Richardetto run
He knew, and how Rogero him bested;
What time the Spanish monarch's hest was done,
And with his daughter he was seized in bed;
And how he had delivered either son
Of good Duke Buovo (as erewhile was said)
From Bertolagi of Maganza's hand,
His evil followers, and the paynim band.

VIII
To honour and to hold Rogero dear,
Him, Sir Rinaldo thought, this debt constrained;
And that he could not so have done whilere,
The warlike lord was sorely grieved and pained;
When one for Africk's monarch couched the spear,
And one the cause of royal Charles maintained:
Now he Rogero for a Christian knew,
What could not then be done he now would do.

IX
Welcome, with endless proffers, on his side,
And honour he to good Rogero paid.
The prudent sire that in such kindness spied
An opening made for more, the pass assayed:
"And nothing else remains," that hermit cried,
"Nor will, I trust, my counsel be gainsaid)
But that, conjoined by friendship, you shall be
Yet faster coupled by affinity.

X
"That from the two bright progenies, which none
Will equal in illustrious blood below,
A race may spring, that brighter than the sun
Will shine, wherever that bright sun may glow;
And which, when years and ages will have run
Their course, will yet endure and fairer show,
While in their orbits burn the heavenly fires:
So me, for your instruction, God inspires. "

XI
And his discourse pursuing still, the seer
So spake, he moves Rinaldo by his rede
To give his sister to the cavalier;
Albeit with either small entreaties need.
Together with Orlando, Olivier
The counsel lauds, and would that union speed:
King Charles and Aymon will, he hopes, approve,
And France will welcome wide their wedded love.
XII
So spake together peer and paladine:
Nor knew that Aymon, with King Charles' consent,
Unto the Grecian emperor Constantine
To give his gentle daughter had intent;
Who for young Leo, of his lofty line
The heir and hope, to crave the maid had sent.
Such warmth the praises of her worth inspired,
With love of her unseen was Leo fired.

XIII
To him hath Aymon answered: he, alone,
Cannot conclude thereon in other sort,
Until he first hath spoken with his son,
Rinaldo, absent then from Charles's court;
Who with winged haste, he deems, will thither run,
And joy in kinsman of such high report;
But from the high regard he bears his heir,
Can nought resolve till thither he repair.

XIV
Now good Rinaldo, of his father wide,
And of the imperial practice knowing nought,
Promised his beauteous sister as a bride,
Upon his own, as well as Roland's thought
And the others, harboured in that cell beside;
But most of all on him the hermit wrought;
And by such marriage, 'twas the peer's belief,
He could not choose but pleasure Clermont's chief.

XV
That day and night, and of the following day
Great part, with that sage monk the warriors spent;
Scarce mindful that the crew their coming stay,
Albeit the wind blew fair for their intent,
But these, impatient at their long delay,
More than one message to the warriors sent;
And to return those barons urged so sore,
Parforce they parted from the hermit hoar.

XVI
The Child who, so long banished, had not stayed
From the lone rock, whereon the waters roared,
His farewell to that holy master made,
Who taught him the true faith: anew with sword
Orlando girt his side, and with the blade,
Frontino and martial Hector's arms restored;
As knowing horse and arms were his whilere,
As well as out of kindness to the peer;

XVII
And, though the enchanted sword with better right
Would have been worn by good Anglantes' chief,
Who from the fearful garden by his might
Had won the blade with mickle toil and grief,
Than by Rogero, who that faulchion bright
Received with good Frontino, from the thief,
He willingly thereof, as with the rest,
As soon as asked, the warrior repossest.

XVIII
The hermit blessings on the band implores:
They to their bark in fine return; their sails
Give to the winds, and to the waves their oars;
And such clear skies they have and gentle gales,
Nor vow nor prayer the patron makes; and moors
His pinnace in the haven of Marseilles.
There, safely harboured, let the chiefs remain,
Till I conduct Astolpho to that train.

XIX
When of that bloody, dear-brought victory
The scarcely joyful tale Astolpho knew,
He, seeing evermore fair France would be
Secure from mischief from the Moorish crew,
Homeward to send the king of Aethiopy
Devised, together with his army, through
The sandy desert, by the self-same track,
Through which he led them to Biserta's sack.

XX
Erewhile restored, in Afric waters ride
Sir Dudon's ships which did the paynims rout;
Whose prows (new miracle! ) and poop, and side,
As soon as all their sable crews are out,
Are changed anew to leaves; which far and wide,
Raised by a sudden breeze, are blown about;
And scattered in mid-air, like such light gear,
Go eddying with the wind, and disappear.

XXI
Home, horse and foot, the Nubian host arraid
By squadrons, all, from wasted Africk go;
But to their king, first, thanks Astolpho paid,
And said, he an eternal debt should owe;
In that he had in person given him aid
With all his might and main against the foe.
The skins Astolpho gave them, which confined
The turbid and tempestuous southern wind.

XXII
I say, enclosed in skins that wind he gave,
Which in such fury blows at noon, on high
I moves the shifting plain in many a wave,
And fills the eddying sand the troubled sky,
To carry with them, and from scathe to save
Their squadrons, lest the dusty whirlwind fly;
And bids them, when arrived at home, unnoose
The bladder's vent, and let their prisoners loose.

XXIII
When they have lofty Atlas passes won,
The horses that the Nubian riders bear,
Turpin relates, are changed at once to stone;
So that the steeds return to what they were.
But it is time the Duke to France was gone;
Who having thus provided, in his care,
For the main places in the Moorish land,
Made the hippogryph anew his wings expand;

XXIV
He reached Sardinia at one flight and shear,
Corsica from Sardinia; and then o'er
The foaming sea his venturous course did steer,
Inclining somewhat left the griffin's soar.
In the sea-marshes last his light career
He stopt, on rich Provence's pleasant shore:
Where to the hyppogryph by him is done
What was erewhile enjoined by sainted John.

XXV
To him the charge did sainted John commit,
When to Provence by that winged courser borne,
Him nevermore with saddle or with bit
To gall, but let him to his lair return.
Already had the planet, whither flit
Things lost on earth, of sound deprived his horn:
For this not only hoarse but mute remained,
As soon as the holy place Astolpho gained.

XXVI
Thence to Marseilles he came; and came the day
Orlando, and Rinaldo, and Olivier
Arrived therein, upon their homeward way,
With good Sobrino, and the better peer,
Rogero: not so triumphs that array,
Touched by the death of him, their comrade dear,
As they for such a glorious victory won
-- But for that sad disaster -- would have done.

XXVII
Of the kings slain upon the paynim part,
The news from Sicily to Charles were blown,
Sobrino's fate, and death of Brandimart;
Nor less of good Rogero had been shown.
Charles stood with jocund fate and gladsome heart,
Rejoicing he had from his shoulders thrown
The intolerable load whereof the weight
Will for long time prevent his standing straight.

XXVIII
To honour those fair pillars that sustain
The state -- the holy empire's corner-stone --
The nobles of his kingdom Charlemagne
Dispatched, to meet the knights, as far as Saone;
And from his city with his worthiest train,
King, duke, and her, the partner of his throne,
Issued amid a fair and gorgeous band
Of noble damsels, upon either hand.

XXIX
The emperor Charles with bright and cheerful brow,
Lords, paladins and people, kinsmen, friends,
Fair love to Roland and the others show.
Mongrana and Clermont's cry the welkin rends.
No sooner, mid that kind and festal show,
The interchange of fond embracements ends,
Than Roland and his friends Rogero bring,
And mid those lords present him to the king;

XXX
And him Rogero of Risa's son declare,
And vouch in valour as his father's peer,
"Witnesses of his worth our squadrons are,
They best can tell his prowess with the spear. "
Meanwhile, the noble and the lovely pair,
Marphisa and gentle Bradamant appear.
This runs to fold Rogero to her heart;
More coy, that other stands somedeal apart.

XXXI
The emperor bids Rogero mount again,
Who from his horse had lit, in reverence due;
And, side by side, with him his courser rein;
Nor aught omits that monarch which may do
The warrior honour, mid his martial train:
How the true faith he had embraced he knew;
Of all instructed by that band before;
When first those paladins set foot ashore.

XXXII
With pomp triumphal and with festive cheer
The troop returns within the city-walls:
With leaves and garlands green the streets appear,
And tapestried all about with gorgeous palls.
Of herbs and flowers a mingled rain, where'er
They wend, upon the conquering squadron falls,
Which with full hands from stand and window throw
Damsel and dame upon the knights below.

XXXIII
At every turn, in various places are,
Of sudden structure arch and trophy high,
Whereon Biserta's sack is painted fair,
Ruin and fire, and feat of chivalry:
Scaffolds, upraised for different sports elsewhere
And merrimake and stage-play meet the eye;
And, writ with truth, above, below, between,
To THE EMPIRE'S SAVIOURS, everywhere is seen.

XXXIV
With sound of shrilling pipe and trumpet proud,
And other festive music, laughter light,
Applause and favour of the following crowd,
Which scarce found room, begirt with dames and knight,
The mighty emperor, mid those greetings loud.
Before the royal palace did alight:
Where many days he feasted high in hall
His lords, mid tourney, mummery, mask and ball.

XXXV
His son to Aymon on a day made known
His sister he would make Rogero's bride;
And, before Olivier and Milo's son,
Her to the Child by promise had affied;
Who think with him that kindred is there none
Wherewith to league themselves, on any side,
For valour or nobility of blood,
Better than his; nay, none so passing good.

XXXVI
Duke Aymon heard his heir with some disdain;
That, without concert with him, and alone
He dared to plight his daughter, whom he fain
Would marry to the Grecian emperor's son;
And not to him that has no kingly reign,
Nay has not ought that he can call his own;
And should not know, how little nobleness
Is valued without wealth; how virtue less.

XXXVII
But Beatrice, his wife, with more despite
Arraigns her son, and calls him arrogant;
And moves each open way and hidden sleight
To break Rogero's match with Bradamant;
Resolved to tax her every means and might
To make her empress of the wide Levant.
Firm in his purpose is Montalban's lord,
Nor will in ought forego his plighted word.

XXXVIII
Beatrice who believes the highminded fair
Is at her hest, exhorts her to reply,
Rather than she will be constrained to pair
With a poor knight, she is resolved to die;
Nor, if this wrong she from Rinaldo bear
Will she regard her with a mother's eye:
Let her refuse and keep her stedfast course;
For her free will Rinaldo cannot force.

XXXIX
Silent stands mournful Bradamant, nor dares
Meanwhile her lady-mother's speech gainsay;
To whom such reverence, and respect, she bears,
She thinks no choice is left but to obey.
Yet a foul fault it in her eyes appears,
If what she will not do, she falsely say:
She will not, for she cannot; since above
All guidance, great or small, is mighty Love.

XL
Deny she dared not, nor yet seem content;
So, sighed and spake not; but -- when uncontrolled
She could -- she gave her secret sorrow vent,
While from her eyes the tears like billows rolled;
A portion of the pains that her torment,
Inflicting on her breast and locks of gold:
For this she beat, and those uptore and brake;
And thus she made lament, and thus she spake.

XLI
"Ah! shall I will what she wills not, by right
More sovereign mistress of my will than I?
Hers shall I hold so cheaply, so to slight
A mother's will, my own to satisfy?
Alas! what blemish is so foul to sight
In damsel? What so ill, as to affy
Myself to husband, reckless of her will,
Which 'tis my duty ever to fulfil?

XLII
"Wo worth the while! and shall I then to thee
By filial love be forced to be untrue,
O my Rogero, and surrender me
To a new hope, a new love, and a new
Desire; or rather from those ties break free,
From all good children to good parents due;
Observance, reverence cast aside; and measure
My duty by my happiness, my pleasure?

XLIII
"I know, alas! what I should do; I know
That which a duteous daughter doth behove;
I know; but what avails it, if not so
My reason moves me as my senses move;
If she retires before a stronger foe;
Nor can I of myself dispose, for Love;
Nor think how to dispose; so strict his sway;
Nor, saving as he dictates, do and say?

XLIV
"Aymon and Beatrice's child, the slave
Of Love am I; ah! miserable me!
I from my parents am in hope to have
Pardon and pity, if in fault I be:
But, if I anger Love, whose prayer shall save
Me from his fury, till one only plea,
Of mine the Godhead shall vouchsafe to hear;
Nor doom me dead as soon as I appear?

XLV
"Alas! with long and obstinate pursuit,
To our faith to draw Rogero have I wrought;
And finally have drawn; but with what boot,
If my fair deed for other's good be wrought?
So yearly by the bee, whose labour's fruit
Is lost for her, is hive with honey fraught.
But I will die ere I the Child forsake,
And other husband than Rogero take.

XLVI
"If I shall not obey my father's hest,
Nor mothers, I my brother's shall obey,
Of greater wisdom far than them possest;
Nor Time hath made that warrior's wit his prey;
And what he wills by Roland is profest;
And, one and the other, on my side are they;
A pair more feared and honoured far and wide
Than all the members of my house beside.

XLVII
"If them the flower of Clermont's noble tree,
The glory and the splendor all account;
If all believe our other chivalry
They, more than head o'ertops the foot, surmount;
Why would I Aymon should dispose of me,
Rather than good Rinaldo and the Count?
I should not; so much less, as not affied
To Leo, and Rogero's promised bride. "

XLVIII
If cruel thoughts the afflicted maid torment,
Rogero's mind enjoys not more repose;
For albeit those sad tidings have not vent
Yet in the city, he the secret knows.
He o'er his humble fortunes makes lament
Which his enjoying such a good oppose;
As unendowed with riches or with reign,
Dispensed so widely to a worthless train.

XLIX
Of other goods which Nature's hand supplies,
Or which acquired by man's own study are,
He such a portion in himself espies,
Such and so large was never other's share:
In that, no beauty with his beauty vies;
In that, resistance to his might is rare.
The palm by none from him can challenged be,
In regal splendour, magnanimity.

L
But they at whose disposal honours lie,
Who give at will, and take away renown;
The vulgar herd; and from the vulgar I,
Except the prudent man, distinguished none;
Nor emperor, pope, nor king, is raised more high
Than these by sceptre, mitre, or by crown,
Nor save by prudence; save by judgement, given
But to the favoured few by partial Heaven;

LI
This vulgar (to say out what I would say)
Which only honours wealth, therewith more smit
Than any worldly thing beside, nor they
Aught heed or aught esteem, ungraced with it,
Be beauty or be daring what it may,
Dexterity or prowess, worth, or wit,
Or goodness -- yet more vulgar stands confest
In that whereof I speak than in the rest.

LII
Rogero said: "If Aymon is disposed
An empress in his Bradamant to see,
Let not his treaty be so quickly closed
With Leo; let a year be granted me:
In that, meanwhile, I hope, by me deposed
Shall Leo with his royal father be,
And I, encircled with their forfeit crown,
Shall be for Aymon no unworthy son.

LIII
"But if he give without delay, as said,
His daughter to the son of Constantine,
If to that promise no regard be paid,
Which good Rinaldo and the paladine,
His cousin, erst before the hermit made,
The Marquis Olivier and King Sobrine,
What shall I do? such grievous wrong shall I
Endure, or, rather than endure it, die?

LIV
"What shall I do? her father then pursue,
On whom for vengeance this grave outrage cries?
I heed not that the deed is hard to do,
Or if the attempt in me is weak or wise: --
But presuppose that, with his kindred crew
Slain by my hand that unjust elder dies;
This will in nothing further my content;
Nay it will wholly frustrate my intent.

LV
" `Twas ever my intent, and still 'tis so
To have the love, not hatred, of that fair;
But should I Aymon slay, or bring some woe
By plot or practice, on his house or heir,
Will she not justly hold me as her foe,
And me, that foeman, as her lord forswear?
What shall I do, endure such injury?
Ah! no, by Heaven! far rather I will die.

LVI
"Nay die I will not; but with better right
Shall Leo die, who so disturbs my joy;
He and his unjust sire; less dear his flight
With Helen paid her paramour of Troy;
Nor yet in older time that foul despite,
Done to Proserpina, cost such annoy
To bold Pirithous, as for her I've lost
My grief of heart shall son and father cost.

LVII
"Can it be true, my life, that to forsake
Thy champion for this Greek should grieve not thee?
And could thy father force thee him to take,
Though joined thy brethren with thy sire should be?
But 'tis my fear that thou would'st rather make
Accord withal with Aymon than with me;
And that it seemeth better in thy sight
To wed with Caesar than with simple wight.

LVIII
"Can it be true that royal name should blind,
Imperial title, pomp and majesty,
And taint my Bradamant's egregious mind,
Her mighty valour and her virtue high,
So that, as cheaper, she should cast behind
Her plighted faith, and from her promise fly?
Nor sooner she a foe to Love be made,
Than she no longer say, what once she said? "

LIX
These things Rogero said, and more beside,
Discoursing with himself, and in such strain
Oftentimes the afflicted warrior cried,
That stander-by o'erheard the knight complain,
And more than once his grief was signified
To her that was the occasion of his pain;
Who no less for his cruel woe, when known,
Lamented than for sorrows of her own.

LX
But most, of all the sorrows that were said
To vex Rogero, most it works her woe
To hear that he afflicts himself, in dread
Lest for the Grecian prince she him forego.
Hence this belief, this error, from his head
To drive, comfort on the knight bestow,
The trustiest of her bower-women, one day,
She to Rogero bade these words convey.

LXI
"Rogero, I what I was till death will be;
And be more faithful, if I can be more:
Deals Love in kindness or in scorn with me;
Hath doubtful Fortune good or ill in store;
I am a very rock of faith, by sea
And winds unmoved, which round about it roar
Nor I have changed for calm or storm, nor I
Will ever change to all eternity.

LXII
"Sooner shall file or chisel made of lead
To the rough diamond various forms impart,
Than any stroke, by fickle Fortune sped,
Or Love's keen anger, break my constant heart:
Sooner return, to Alp, their fountain-head,
The troubled streams that from its summit part,
Than e'er, for change or chances, good or nought,
Shall wander from its way my stedfast thought.

LXIII
"All power o'er me have I bestowed on you,
Rogero; and more than others may divine:
I know that to a prince whose throne is new
Was never fealty sworn more true than mine;
Nor ever surer state, this wide world through,
By king or keysar was possest than thine.
Thou need'st not dig a ditch nor build a tower,
In fear lest any rob thee of that power.

LXIV
"For if thou hire no aids, assault is none,
But what thereon shall aye be made in vain;
Nor shall it be by any riches won:
So vile a price no gentle heart can gain:
Nor by nobility, nor kingly crown,
That dazzle so the silly vulgar train;
Nor beauty, puissant with the weak and light,
Shall ever make me thee for other slight.

LXV
"Thou hast no cause, amid thy griefs, to fear
My heart should ever bear new impress more:
So deeply is thine image graven here,
It cannot be removed: that my heart's core
Is not of wax is proved; for Love whilere
Smote it a hundred times, not once, before
He by his blows a single scale displaced,
What time therein his hand thine image traced.

LXVI
"Ivory, gem, and every hard-grained stone
That best resists the griding tool, may break:
But, save the form it once hath taken, none
Will ever from the graver's iron take.
My heart like marble is, or thing least prone
Beneath the chisel's trenchant edge to flake:
Love this may wholly splinter, ere he may
Another's beauty in its core enlay. "

LXVII
Other and many words with comfort rife,
And full of love and faith, she said beside;
Which might a thousand times have given him life,
Albeit a thousand times the knight had died:
But, when most clear of the tempestuous strife,
In friendly port these hopes appeared to ride,
These hopes a foul and furious wind anew
Far from the sheltering land to seaward blew.

LXVIII
In that the gentle Bradamant, who fain
Would do far more than she hath signified,
With wonted daring armed her heart again;
And boldly casting all respect aside,
One day stood up before King Charlemagne;
And, "Sire, if ever yet," the damsel cried,
"I have found favour in your eyes for deed
Done heretofore, deny me not its meed;

LXIX
"And I entreat, before I claim my fee,
That you to me your royal promise plight,
To grant my prayer; and fain would have you see
That what I shall demand is just and right. "
"Thy valour, damsel dear, deserves from me
The boon wherewith thy worth I should requite"
(Charles answered), "and I to content thee swear,
Though of my kingdom thou should'st claim a share. "

LXX
"The boon for which I to your highness sue,
Is not to let my parents me accord
(Pursued the martial damsel) save he shew
More prowess than myself, to any lord.
Let him contend with me in tourney, who
Would have me, or assay me with the sword.
Me as his wife let him that wins me, wear;
Let him that loses me, with other pair. "

LXXI
With cheerful face the emperor made reply,
The entreaty was well worthy of the maid;
And that with tranquil mind she might rely,
He would accord the boon for which she prayed.
This audience was not given so secretly,
But that the news to others were conveyed;
Which on that very day withal were told
In the ears of Beatrice and Aymon old;

LXXII
Who against Bradamant with fury flame,
And both alike, with sudden anger fraught,
(For plainly they perceive, that in her claim
She for Rogero more than Leo wrought)
And active to prevent the damsel's aim
From being to a safe conclusion brought,
Privily take her from King Charles's court,
And thence to Rocca Forte's tower transport.

LXXIII
A castle this, which royal Charlemagne
Had given to Aymon some few days before,
Built between Carcasson and Perpignan,
On a commanding point upon the shore.
Resolved to send her eastward, there the twain
As in a prison kept her evermore.
Willing or nilling, so must she forsake
Rogero, and for lord must Leo take.

LXXIV
The martial maid of no less modest vein
Than bold and full of fire before the foe,
Albeit no guard on her the castellain
Hath set, and she is free to come or go,
Observant of her sire, obeys the rein:
Yet prison, death, and every pain and woe
To suffer is resolved that constant maid
Before by her Rogero be betrayed.

LXXV
Rinaldo, who thus ravished from his hand,
By ancient Aymon's craft his sister spied,
And saw he could no more in wedlock's band
Dispose of her, by him in vain affied,
Of his old sire complains, and him doth brand,
Laying his filial love and fear aside:
But little him Rinaldo's words molest;
Who by the maid will do as likes him best.

LXXVI
Rogero, bearing this and sore afraid
That he shall lose his bride; and Leo take,
If left alive, by force or love the maid,
Resolved within himself (but nothing spake)
Constantine's heir should perish by his blade;
And of Augustus him a god would make.
He, save his hope deceived him and was vain,
Would sire and son deprive of life and reign.

LXXVII
His limbs in arms, which Trojan Hector's were,
And afterwards the Tartar king's, he steeled;
Bade rein Frontino, and his wonted wear
Exchanged, crest, surcoat and emblazoned shield.
On that emprize it pleased him not to bear
His argent eagle on its azure field.
White as a lily, was a unicorn
By him upon a field of crimson worn.

LXXVIII
He chose from his attendant squires the best,
And willed none else should him accompany;
And gave him charge, that ne'er by him exprest
Rogero's name in any place should be;
Crost Meuse and Rhine, and pricked upon his quest
Through the Austrian countries into Hungary;
Along the right bank of the Danube made,
And rode an-end until he reached Belgrade.

LXXIX
Where Save into dark Danube makes descent,
And to the sea, increased by him, doth flow,
He saw the imperial ensigns spread, and tent
And white pavilion, thronged with troops below.
For Constantine to have that town was bent
Anew, late won by the Bulgarian foe.
In person, with his son, is Constantine,
With all the empire's force his host to line.

LXXX
Within Belgrade, and through the neighbouring peak,
Even to its bottom which the waters lave,
The Bulgar fronts him; and both armies seek
A watering-place in the intermediate Save.
A bridge across that rapid stream the Greek
Would fling; the Bulgar would defend the wave;
When thither came Rogero; and engaged
Beheld the hosts in fight, which hotly raged.

LXXXI
The Greeks in that affray were four to one,
And with pontoons to bridge the stream supplied;
And a bold semblance through their host put on
Of crossing to the river's further side.
Leo meanwhile was from the river gone
With covert guile; he took a circuit wide,
Then thither made return; his bridges placed
From bank to bank, and past the stream in haste.

LXXXII
With many horse and foot in battle dight,
Who nothing under twenty thousand rank,
Along the river rode the Grecian knight;
And fiercely charged his enemies in flank.
The emperor, when his son appeared in sight.
Leading his squadrons on the farther bank,
Uniting bridge and bark together, crost
Upon his part the stream with all his host.

LXXXIII
King Vatran, chief of the Bulgarian band,
Wise, bold, withal a warrior, here and there
Laboured in vain such onset to withstand,
And the disorder of his host repair;
When Leo prest him sore, and with strong hand
The king to earth beneath his courser bare;
Whom at the prince's hest, for all to fierce
Is he to yield, a thousand faulchions pierce.

LXXXIV
The Bulgar host hath hitherto made head;
But when they see their sovereign is laid low,
And everywhere that tempest wax and spread,
They turn their backs where erst they faced the foe.
The Child, who mid the Greeks, from whom they fled,
Was borne along, beheld that overthrow,
And bowned himself their battle to restore,
As hating Constantine and Leo more.

LXXXV
He spurs Frontino, that in his career
Is like the wind, and passes every steed;
He overtakes the troop, that in their fear
Fly to the mountain and desert the mead.
Many he stops and turns; then rests his spear;
And, as he puts his courser to his speed,
So fearful is his look, even Mars and Jove
Are frighted in their azure realms above.

LXXXVI
Advanced before the others, he descried
A cavalier, in crimson vest, whereon
With all its stalk in silk and gold was spied
A pod, like millet, in embroidery done:
Constantine's nephew, by the sister's side,
He was, but was no less beloved than son:
He split like glass his shield and scaly rind;
And the long lance appeared a palm behind.

LXXXVII
He left the dead, and drew his shining blade
Upon a squadron, whom he saw most nigh;
And now at once, and now at other made;
Cleft bodies, and made hearts from shoulders fly.
At throat, at breast and flank the warrior laid;
Smote hand, and arm, and shoulder, bust, and thigh;
And through that champaign ran the reeking blood,
As to the valley foams the mountain-flood.

LXXXVIII
None that behold those strokes maintain their place;
So are they all bewildered by their fear.
Thus suddenly the battle changed its face:
For, catching courage from the cavalier,
The Bulgar squadrons rally, turn, and chase
The Grecian troops that fled from them whilere.
Lost was all order in a thought, and they
With all their banners fled in disarray.

LXXXIX
Leo Augustus on a swelling height,
Seeing his followers fly, hath taken post;
Where woeful and bewildered (for to sight
Nothing in all the country round is lost)
He from his lofty station eyes the knight,
Who with his single arm destroys that host;
And cannot choose, though so his prowess harms,
But praise that peer and own his worth in arms.

XC
He knew full well by ensignry displaid,
By surcoat and by gilded panoply,
That albeit to the foe he furnished aid,
That champion was not of his chivalry;
Wondering his superhuman deeds surveyed;
And now an angel seemed in him to see,
To scourge the Greeks from quires above descended,
Whose sins so oft and oft had heaven offended;

XCI
And, as a man of great and noble heart,
(Where many others would have hatred sworn)
Enamoured of such valour, on his part,
Would not desire to see him suffer scorn:
For one that died, six Grecians' death less smart
Would cause that prince; and better had he borne
To lose as well a portion of his reign,
Than to behold so good a warrior slain.

XCII
As baby, albeit its fond mother beat
And drive it forth in anger, in its fear
Neither to sire nor sister makes retreat;
But to her arms returns with fondling cheer:
So Leo, though Rogero in his heat
Slaughters his routed van and threats his rear,
Cannot that champion hate; because above
His anger is the admiring prince's love.

XCIII
But if young Leo loved him and admired,
Meseems that he an ill exchange hath made;
For him Rogero loathed; nor aught desired
More than to lay him lifeless with his blade:
Him with his eyes he sought; for him inquired;
But Leo's fortune his desire gainsayed;
Which with the prudence of the practised Greek,
Made him in vain his hated rival seek.

XCIV
Leo, for fear his bands be wholly spent,
Bids sound the assembly his Greek squadrons through:
He to his father a quick courier sent,
To pray that he would pass the stream anew;
Who, if the way was open, well content
Might with his bargain he; and with a few
Whom he collects, the Grecian cavalier
Recrost the bridge by which he past whilere.

XCV
Into the power o' the Bulgars many fall,
Stalin from the hill-top to the river-side;
And they into their hands had fallen all,
But for the river's intervening tide.
From the bridge many drop, and drown withal;
And many that ne'er turned their heads aside,
Thence to a distant ford for safety made;
And many were dragged prisoners to Belgrade.

XCVI
When done was that day's fight, wherein (since borne
To ground the Bulgar king his life did yield)
His squadrons would have suffered scathe and scorn,
Had not for them the warrior won the field,
The warrior, that the snowy unicorn
Wore for his blazon on a crimson shield,
To him all flock, in him with joy and glee
The winner of that glorious battle see.

XCVII
Some bow and some salute him; of the rest
Some kist the warrior's feet, and some his hand.
Round him as closely as they could they prest,
And happy those are deemed, that nearest stand;
More those that touch him; for to touch a blest
And supernatural thing believes the band.
On him with shouts that rent the heavens they cried,
To be their king, their captain, and their guide.

XCVIII
As king or captain them will he command
As liked them best, he said, but will not lay
On sceptre or on leading-staff his hand;
Nor yet Belgrade will enter on that day:
For first, ere farther flies young Leo's band,
And they across the river make their way,
Him will he follow, nor forego, until
That Grecian leader he o'ertake and kill.

XCIX
A thousand miles and more for this alone
He thither measured, and for nought beside.
He saith; and from the multitude is gone,
And by a road that's shown to him doth ride.
For towards the bridge is royal Leo flown;
Haply lest him from this the foe divide:
Behind him pricks Rogero with such fire,
The warrior calls not, nor awaits, his squire.

C
Such vantage Leo has in flight (to flee
He rather may be said than to retreat)
The passage open hath he found and free;
And then destroys the bridge and burns his fleet.
Rogero arrived not, till beneath the sea
The sun was hid; nor lodging found; his beat
He still pursued; and now shone forth the moon:
But town or village found the warrior none.

CI
Because he wots not where to lodge, he goes
All night, nor from his load Frontino frees.
When the new sun his early radiance shows,
A city to the left Rogero sees;
And there all day determines to repose,
As where he may his wearied courser ease,
Whom he so far that livelong night had pressed;
Nor had he drawn his bit, nor given him rest.

CII
Ungiardo had that city in his guard,
Constantine's liegeman, and to him right dear;
Who, since upon the Bulgars he had warred,
Much horse and foot had sent that emperor; here
Now entered (for the entrance was not barred)
Rogero, and found such hospitable cheer,
He to fare further had no need, in trace
Of better or of more abundant place.

CIII
In the same hostelry with him a guest
Was lodged that evening a Romanian knight;
Present what time the Child with lance in rest
Succoured the Bulgars in that cruel fight;
Who hardly had escaped his hand, sore prest
And scared as never yet was living wight;
So that he trembled still, disturbed in mind,
And deemed the knight of the unicorn behind.

CIV
He by the buckler knew as soon as spied
The cavalier, whose arms that blazon bear,
For him that routed the Byzantine side;
By hand of whom so many slaughtered were.
He hurried to the palace, and applied
For audience, weighty tidings to declare;
And, to Ungiardo led forthwith, rehearsed
What shall by men in other strain be versed.


CANTO 45

ARGUMENT
Young Leo doth from death Rogero free;
For him Rogero Bradamant hath won,
Making that maid appear less strong to be,
Disguised in fight like Leo; and, that done,
Straight in despite would slay himself; so he
By sorrow, so by anguish is foredone.
To hinder Leo of his destined wife
Marphisa works, and kindles mighty strife.


I
By how much higher we see poor mortal go
On Fortune's wheel, which runs a restless round,
We so much sooner see his head below
His heels; and he is prostrate on the ground.
The Lydian, Syracusan, Samian show
This truth, and more whose names I shall not sound;
All into deepest dolour in one day
Hurled headlong from the height of sovereign sway.

II
By how much more deprest on the other side,
By how much more the wretch is downwards hurled,
He so much sooner mounts, where he shall ride,
If the revolving wheel again be twirled.
Some on the murderous block have well-nigh died,
That on the following day have ruled the world.
Ventidius, Servius, Marius this have shown
In ancient days; King Lewis in our own;

III
King Lewis, stepfather of my duke's son;
Who, when his host at Santalbino fled,
Left in his clutch by whom that field was won,
Was nigh remaining shorter by the head.
Nor long before the great Corvinus run
A yet more fearful peril, worse bested:
Both throned, when overblown was their mischance,
One king of Hungary, one king of France.

IV
'Tis plain to sight, through instances that fill
The page of ancient and of modern story,
That ill succeeds to good, and good to ill;
That glory ends in shame, and shame in glory;
And that man should not trust, deluded still,
In riches, realm, or field of battle, gory
With hostile blood, nor yet despair, for spurns
Of Fortune; since her wheel for ever turns.

V
Through that fair victory, when overthrown
Were Leo and his royal sire, the knight
Who won that battle to such trust is grown,
In his good fortune and his peerless might,
He, without following, without aid, alone
(So is he prompted by his daring sprite)
Thinks, mid a thousand squadrons in array,
-- Footmen and horsemen -- sire and son to slay.

VI
But she, that wills no trust shall e'er be placed
In her by man, to him doth shortly show,
How wight by her is raised, and how abased;
How soon she is a friend, how soon a foe;
She makes him know Rogero, that in haste
Is gone to work that warrior shame and woe;
The cavalier, which in that battle dread
With much ado had from his faulchion fled.

VII
He to Ungiardo hastens to declare
The Child who put the imperial host to flight,
Whose carnage many years will not repair,
Here past the day and was to pass the night;
And saith, that Fortune, taken by the hair,
Without more trouble, and without more fight,
Will, if he prisons him, the Bulgars bring
Beneath the yoke and lordship of his king.

VIII
Ungiardo from the crowd, which had pursued
Thither their flight from the ensanguined plain,
For, troop by troop, a countless multitude
(Arrived, because not all the bridge could gain)
Knew what a cruel slaughter had ensued:
For there the moiety of the Greeks was slain;
And knew that by a cavalier alone
One host was saved, and one was overthrown;

IX
And that undriven he should have made his way
Into the net, and of his own accord,
Wondered, and showed his pleasure, at the say
In visage, gesture, and in joyful word.
He waited till Rogero sleeping lay;
Then softly sent his guard to take that lord;
And made the valiant Child, who had no dread
Of such a danger, prisoner in his bed.

X
By his own shield accused, that witness true,
The Child is captive in Novogorood,
To Ungiardo, worst among the cruel, who
Marvellous mirth to have that prisoner shewed.
And what, since he was naked, could he do,
Bound, while his eyes were yet by slumber glued?
A courier, who the news should quickly bear,
Ungiardo bids to Constantine repair.

XI
Constantine on that night with all his host,
Raising his camp, from Save's green shore had gone:
With this in Beleticche he takes post,
Androphilus', his sister's husband's town,
Father of him, whose arms in their first joust
(As if of wax had been his habergeon)
Had pierced and carved the puissant cavalier,
Now by Ungiardo pent in dungeon drear.

XII
Here from attack the emperor makes assure
The city walls and gates on every side;
Lest, from the Bulgar squadrons ill secure,
Having so good a warrior for their guide,
His broken Grecians worse than fear endure;
Deeming the rest would by his hand have died.
Now he is taken, these breed no alarms;
Nor would he fear the banded world in arms.

XIII
The emperor, swimming in a summer sea,
Knows not for very pleasure what to do:
"Truly the Bulgars may be said to be
Vanquished," he cries, with bold and cheerful brow.
As he would feel assured of victory,
That had of either arm deprived his foe;
So the emperor was assured, and so rejoiced,
When good Rogero's fate the warrior voiced.

XIV
No less occasion has the emperor's son
For joying; for besides that he anew
Trusts to acquire Belgrade, and tower and town
Throughout the Bulgars' country to subdue,
He would by favours make the knight his own,
And hopes to rank him in his warlike crew:
Nor need he envy, guarded by his blade,
King Charles', Orlando's, or Rinaldo's aid.

XV
Theodora was by other thoughts possest,
Whose son was killed by young Rogero's spear;
Which through his shoulders, entering at his breast,
Issued a palm's breadth in the stripling's rear;
Constantine's sister she, by grief opprest,
Fell down before him; and with many a tear
That dropt into her bosom, while she sued,
His heart with pity softened and subdued.

XVI
"I still before these feet will bow my knee,
Save on this felon, good my lord," (she cried)
"Who killed my son, to venge me thou agree,
Now that we have him in our hold; beside
That he thy nephew was, thou seest how thee
He loved; thou seest what feats upon thy side
That warrior wrought; thou seest if thou wilt blot
Thine own good name, if thou avenge him not.

XVII
"Thou seest how righteous Heaven by pity stirred
From the wide champaign, red with Grecian gore,
Bears that fell man; and like a reckless bird
Into the fowler's net hath made him soar;
That for short season, for revenge deferred,
My son may mourn upon the Stygian shore.
Give me, my lord, I pray, this cruel foe,
That by his torment I may soothe my woe. "

XVIII
So well she mourns; and in such moving wise
And efficacious doth she make lament;
(Nor from before the emperor will arise,
Though he three times and four the dame has hent,
And to uplift by word and action tries)
That he is forced her wishes to content;
And thus, according to her prayer, commands
The Child to be delivered to her hands;

XIX
And, not therein his orders to delay,
They take the warrior of the unicorn
To cruel Theodora; but one day
Of respite has the knight: to have him torn
In quarters, yet alive; to rend and slay
Her prisoners publicly with shame and scorn,
Seems a poor pain; and he must undergo
Other unwonted and unmeasured woe.

XX
At the commandment of that woman dread,
Chains on his neck and hands and feet they don;
And put him in a dungeon-cell, where thread
Of light was never by Apollo thrown:
He has a scanty mess of mouldy bread;
And sometimes is he left two days with none;
And one that doth the place of jailer fill
Is prompter than herself to work him ill.

XXI
Oh! if Duke Aymon's daughter brave and fair,
Of if Marphisa of exalted mind
Had heard Rogero's sad estate declare,
And how he in this guise in prison pined,
To his rescue either would have made repair,
And would have flung the fear of death behind:
Nor had bold Bradamant, intent to aid,
Respect to Beatrice or Aymon paid.

XXII
Meanwhile King Charlemagne upon his side,
Heeding his promise made in solemn sort,
That none should have the damsel for his bride,
That of her prowess in the field fell short;
Not only had his sovereign pleasure cried
With sound of trumpet in his royal court,
But in each city subject to his crown.
Hence quickly through the world the bruit was blown.

XXIII
Such the condition which he bids proclaim:
He that would with Duke Aymon's daughter wed
Must with the sword contend against that dame
From the suns rise until he seeks his bed;
And if he for that time maintains the game,
And is not overcome, without more said,
The lady is adjudged to have lost the stake;
Nor him for husband can refuse to take.

XXIV
The choice of arms must be by her foregone,
No matter who may claim it in the course:
And by the damsel this may well be done,
Good at all arms alike, on foot or horse.
Aymon, who cannot strive against the crown,
-- Cannot and will not -- yields at length parforce.
He much the matter sifts, and in the end
Resolves to court with Bradamant to wend.

XXV
Though for the daughter choler and disdain
The mother nursed, yet that she honour due
Might have, she garments, dyed in different grain,
Had wrought for her, of various form and hue.
Bradamant for the court of Charlemagne
Departs, and finding not her love, to her view
His noble court appears like that no more,
Which had appeared to her so fair before.

XXVI
As he that hath beheld a garden, bright
With flowers and leaves in April or in May,
And next beholds it, when the sun his light
Hath sloped toward the north, and shortened day,
Finds it a desert horrid to the sight;
So, now that her Rogero is away,
To Bradamant, who thither made resort,
No longer what it was appeared that court.

XXVII
What is become of him she doth not dare
Demand, lest more suspicion thence be bred;
But listens still, and searches here and there;
That this by some, unquestioned, may be said;
Knows he is gone, but has no notion where
The warrior, when he went, his steps had sped;
Because, departing thence, he spake no word
Save to the squire who journeyed with his lord.

XXVIII
Oh! how she sighs!