No More Learning

In fewer hours replaced beneath thy ward,
Then Cordova's and fierce Granada's band
Took days erewhile, to wrest it from thy hand.

V
Haply Heaven's vengeance ordered what befel,
And in that case thy wound so hindered thee
To the end, the cruel outrage, foul and fell,
Done by that band before, should punished be.
For after the unhappy Vestidel,
Wearied and hurt, had sought their clemency,
Among them (mostly an unchristened train)
He, mid a hundred swords, unarmed, was slain.

VI
To end; I say that other rage is none
Which can be weighed with that in equal wise,
Which kindles, when an injury is done
To kinsman, friend or lord before our eyes.
Then justly in Orlando's heart, for one
So dear to him, might sudden fury rise;
When him he saw, extended on the sand,
Slain by the stroke of fierce Gradasso's brand.

VII
As nomade swain, who darting on its way
In slippery line the horrid snake has seen,
That his young son, amid the sands at play,
Has killed with venomed tooth, enflamed with spleen,
Grasps his batoon, the poisonous worm to slay;
His sword, than every other sword more keen,
So, in his fury grasped Anglantes' knight,
And wreaked on Agramant his first despite,

VIII
Scaped, bleeding, with helm loosened form his head,
With half a shield and swordless, through his mail,
Sore wounded in more places than is said;
As from the dull or envious falcon's nail,
Escapes the unhappy sparrowhawk, half dead,
With ruffled plumage and with loss of tail.
On him Orlando came and smote him just
Where with the helmed head confined the bust.

IX
Loosed was the helm, the neck without its band:
So, like a rush, was severed by the sword.
Down-fell, and shook its last upon the sand
The heavy trunk of Libya's mighty lord.
His spirit, which flitted to the Stygian strand,
Charon with crooked boat-hook dragged aboard.
On him Orlando wastes no further pain,
But, sword in hand, seeks him of Sericane.

X
As the headless trunk of Africk's cavalier
Extended on the shore Gradasso's viewed,
(What never had befallen him whilere)
He shook at heart, a troubled visage shewed,
And, at the coming of Anglantes' peer,
Presageful of his fate, appears subdued:
Nor seeks he means of fence against his foe,
When fierce Orlando deals the fatal blow.

XI
Orlando levels at his better side,
Beneath the lowest rib, his faulchion bright;
And crimsoned to the hilt, a hand's breadth wide
Of the other flank, the sword appears in sight;
And well his mighty puissance testified,
And spoke him as the strongest living knight
That stroke, by which a warrior was undone,
Better than whom in Paynimry was none.

XII
Little his victory good Orlando cheers:
Himself he quickly from his saddle throws;
And, with a face disturbed, and wet with tears,
To his Brandimart in haste the warrior goes;
The field about him red with blood appears,
His helmet cleft as by a hatchet's blows;
And, had it been than spungy rind more frail,
Would have defended him no worse than mail.

XIII
Orlando lifts the helmet, and descries
Brandimart's head by that destructive brand
Cleft even to his nose, between the eyes;
Yet so the wounded knight his spirits manned,
That pardon of the king of Paradise
He, before death, was able to demand,
And to exhort to patience Brava's peer,
Whose manly cheeks were wet with many a tear;

XIV
And -- "Roland, in thy helping orisons, I
Beseech thee to remember me," he cried,
"Nor recommend to thee less warmly my --"
-- Flordelice would, but could not, say -- and died;
And sounds and songs of angels in the sky,
As the soul parts, are heard on every side;
Which from its prison freed, mid hymns of love,
Ascends into the blissful realms above.

XV
Orlando, albeit he should joy in heart
At death so holy, and is certified
That called to bliss above is Brandimart;
For he heaven opened to the knight described;
Through human wilfulness -- which aye takes part
With our weak senses -- hardly can abide
The loss of one, above a brother dear,
Nor can refrain from many a scalding tear.

XVI
Warlike Sobrino, of much blood bereaved,
Which from his flank and wounded visage rained,
Long since had fallen, reversed and sore aggrieved,
And had by now his vessels well nigh drained.
Olivier too lies stretched; nor has retrieved,
Nor can retrieve, his crippled foot, save sprained,
And almost crushed; so long between the plain,
And his stout courser jammed, the limb has lain;

XVII
And but Orlando helped (so woe begone
Was weeping Olivier, and brought so low)
He could not have released his limb alone;
And, when released, endures such pain, such woe,
The helpless warrior cannot stand upon,
Or shift withal his wounded foot, and so
Benumbed and crippled is the leg above,
That he without assistance cannot move.

XVIII
The victory brought Orlando small delight;
On whom too heavily and hardly weighed
Of slaughtered Brandimart the piteous sight;
Nor sure of Oliviero's life he made.
Sobrino yet survived; but little light
The wounded monarch had, amid much shade:
For almost spend his ebbing life remained
So fast from him the crimson blood had drained.

XIX
The County has him taken, bleeding sore;
Thither, where he is saved with sovereign care;
And he as if a kinsman of the Moor,
Benignly comforts him and speaks him fair:
For in Orlando, when the strife was o'er,
Was nothing evil; ever prompt to spare.
He from the dead their arms and coursers reft,
The rest he to their knives' disposal left.

XX
Here as my story stood not on good ground,
Frederick Fulgoso doubtful does appear;
Who, searching Barbary's every shore and sound
Erewhile on board a squadron, landed here;
And the isle so rugged and so rocky found,
In all its parts so mountainous and drear,
There is not (through the land) a level space
(He says) whereon a single boot to place.

XXI
Nor deems he likely, that six cavaliers,
The wide world's flower, on Alpine rock should vye,
In that equestrian fight, with levelled spears.
To whose objection thus I make reply:
Erewhile a place, well fit for such careers,
Stretched at the bottom of the hills did lie;
But afterwards, o'erthrown by earthquake's shock,
A cliff o'erspread the plain with broken rock.

XXII
So, of Fulgoso's race thou shining ray,
Clear, lasting light, if, questioning my word,
Thou on this point hast ever said me nay,
And haply too, before the unconquered lord,
Through whom thy land, reposing, casts away
All haste, and wholly leans to kind accord,
Prythee delay not to declare, that I
In this my story haply tell no lie.

XXIII
Meanwhile his eyes the good Orlando reared,
And saw, on turning them to seaward, where
Under full sail a nimble bark appeared,
As if she to that island would repair.
I will not now rehearse who thither steered;
For more than one awaiteth me elsewhere.
Wend me to France and see if they be glad
At having chased the Saracens, or sad;

XXIV
See what she does withal, the lady true,
That sees her knight content to wend so wide;
Of the afflicted Bradamant I shew;
After she saw the oath was nullified,
Made in the hearing of those armies two,
Upon the Christian and the paynim side;
Since he again had failed her, there was nought
Wherein she could confide, the damsel thought.

XXV
And now her too accustomed plaint and wail
Repeating, of Rogero's cruelty
Fair Bradamant renewed the wonted tale;
She cursed her hard and evil destiny;
Then loosening to tempestuous grief the sail,
Heaven that consented to such perjury,
-- And did not yet by some plain token speak --
She, in her passion, called unjust and weak.

XXVI
The sage Melissa she accused, and cursed
The oracle of the cavern, through whose lie
She in that sea of love herself immersed,
Upon whose waters she embarked to die.
She to Marphisa afterwards rehearsed
Her woes, and told her brother's perfidy;
She chides, pours forth her sorrows, and demands,
With tears and outcries, succour at her hands.

XXVII
Marphisa shrugs her shoulders; what alone
She can, she offers -- comfort to the fair;
Nor thinks Rogero her has so foregone
But what to her he shortly will repair.
And, should he not, such outrage to be done,
The damsel plights her promise not to bear;
Twixt her and him shall deadly war be waged,
Or he shall keep the word, which he engaged.

XXVIII
She makes her somewhat thus her grief restrain;
Which having vent in some sort spend its gall,
Now we have seen the damsel in her pain
Rogero impious, proud, and perjured call,
See we, if in a happier state remain
The brother of that gentle maid withal;
Whose flesh, bones, nerves, and sinews are a prey
To burning love; Rinaldo I would say.

XXIX
I say Rinaldo that (as known to you)
Angelica the beauteous loved so well:
Nor him into the amorous fillets drew
So much her beauty as the magic spell.
In peace reposed those other barons true;
For wholly broken was the infidel:
Alone amid the victors, he, of all
The paladins, remained Love's captive thrall.

XXX
To seek her he a hundred couriers sent,
And sought as well, himself, the missing maid:
He in the end to Malagigi went,
Who in his need had often given him aid:
To him he told his love, with eyelids bent
On earth, and visage crimsoned o'er; and prayed
That sage magicians to instruct him, where
He in the world might find the long-sought fair.

XXXI
A case, so strange and wondrous, marvel sore
In friendly Malagigi's bosom bred:
The wizard knew, a hundred times and more,
He might have had the damsel in his bed;
And he himself, to move the knight or yore,
In her behalf, enough had done and said:
Had him by prayer and menace sought to bend,
Yet ne'er was able to obtain his end;

XXXII
And so much more, that out of prison ward
He then would Malagigi so have brought.
Now will he seek her, of his own accord,
On less occasion, when it profits nought.
Next that magician Montalbano's lord
To mark how sorely do had erred, besought:
Since little lacked, but through the boon denied,
Erewhile he had in gloomy dungeon died.

XXXIII
But how much more Rinaldo's strange demand
Sounded importunately in his ear,
So by sure index Malagigi scanned,
That so much was Angelica more dear.
Rinaldo prayer unable to withstand,
In ocean sunk the wizard cavalier
All memory of old injury assaid,
And bowned himself to give the warrior aid.

XXXIV
For his reply he craved some small delay,
And with fair hope consoled Mount Alban's knight,
He should be able of the road to say
By which Angelica had sped her flight,
In France or wheresoe'er; then wends his way
Thither where he is wont his imps to cite;
A grot impervious and with mountains walled:
His book he opened and the spirits called.

XXXV
Then one he chooses, in love-cases read,
Whom Malagigi to declare requires,
How good Rinaldo's heart, before so died,
Was now so quickly moved by soft desires;
And of those fountains twain (the demon said)
Whereof one lights, one quenches amorous fires;
And how nought cures the mischief caused by one
But that whose streams in counter current run;

XXXVI
And says, Rinaldo, having drunk whilere
From the love-chasing fountain's mossy urn,
To Angelica, that long had wooed the peer,
Had shown himself so obstinate and stern;
And he, whom after his ill star did steer
To drink of that which makes the bosom burn,
Her whom but just before he loathed above
All reason, by that draught was forced to love.

XXXVII
Him his ill star and cruel fate conveyed
To swallow fire and flame i' the frozen lake:
For nigh at the same time the Indian maid
In the other bitter stream her thirst did slake;
Which in her bosom so all love allayed,
Henceforth she loathed him more than noisome snake;
He loved her, and such love was his, as late
Rinaldo bore her enmity and hate.

XXXVIII
Of this strange story fully certified
Was Malagigi by the demon's lore;
Who news as well of Angelique supplied;
How yielding up herself to a young Moor,
With him embarking on the unstable tide,
She had abandoned Europe's every shore;
And hoisting her bold canvas to the wind,
In Catalonian galley loosed for Ind.

XXXIX
Rinaldo seeking out the sage anew
For his reply -- he would dissuade the knight
From loving more that Indian lady, who
Now waited on a vile barbarian wight;
And was so distant he could ill pursue;
If he would chase the damsel on her flight,
Who must have measured than half her way
Homeward, with young Medoro to Catay.

XL
In that bold lover no displeasure deep
The journey of Angelica would move;
Nor yet would mar or break the warrior's sleep
To think that he again must eastward rove:
But that a stripling Saracen should reap
The first fruits of that faithless lady's love
In him such passion bred, such heart-ache sore,
He never in his life so grieved before.

XLI
No power hath he to make one sole reply;
His heart, his lip, is quivering with disdain;
His tongue no word is able to untie;
His mouth is bitter, and 'twould seem with bane.
He flung from the magician suddenly,
And, as by fury stirred and jealous pain,
He after mighty plaint and mighty woe
Resolved anew to eastern realms to go.

XLII
Licence he asks of Pepin's royal son,
Upon the ground, since with his courser dear
To Sericane is King Gradasso gone,
Against the use of gallant cavalier,
Him honour moves the selfsame course to run,
In the end he may prevent the paynim peer
From ever vaunting, that with sword or lance
He took him from a Paladin of France.

XLIII
Charles gives him leave to go; though, far and nigh,
With him all France laments he thence should wend;
But he in fine that prayer can ill deny,
So honest seems the worthy warrior's end.
Him Dudon, Guido, would accompany;
But he refuses either valiant friend:
From Paris he departs, and wends alone,
Plunged in his grief and heaving many a groan.

XLIV
Ever in memory dwells the restless thought,
He might a thousand times have had the fair;
And -- mad and obstinate -- had, when besought,
A thousand times refused such beauty rare;
And such sweet joy was whilom set at nought,
Such bright, such blessed moments wasted were;
And now he life would gladly give away
To have that damsel but for one short day.

XLV
The thought will never from his mind depart,
How for a sorry footpage she could slight,
-- Flinging their merit and their love apart --
The service of each former loving wight.
Vext by such thought, which racked and rent his heart,
Rinaldo wends towards the rising light:
He the straight road to Rhine and Basle pursued,
Till he arrived in Arden's mighty wood.

XLVI
When within that adventurous wood has hied
For many a mile Montalban's cavalier,
Of lonely farm or lordly castle wide,
Where the rude place was roughest and most drear,
The sky disturbed he suddenly descried,
He saw the sun's dimmed visage disappear,
And spied forth issuing from a cavern hoar
A monster, which a woman's likeness wore.

XLVII
A thousand lidless eyes are in her head:
She cannot close them, nor, I think, doth sleep:
She listens with as many ears, and spread
Like hair, about her forehead serpents creep.
Forth issued into day that figure dread
From devilish darkness and the caverned deep.
For tail, a fierce and bigger serpent wound
About her breast, and girt the monster round.

XLVIII
What in a thousand, thousand quests had ne'er
Befal'n Rinaldo, here befel the knight;
Who, when he sees the horrid form appear,
Coming to seek him and prepared for fight,
Feels in his inmost veins such freezing fear,
As haply never fell on other wight;
Yet wonted daring counterfeits and feigns,
And with a trembling hand the faulchion strains.

XLIX
The monster so the fierce assault did make
Therein her master was well descried,
It might be said; she shook a poisonous snake,
And now on this, now on the other side,
Leapt at the knight; at her Rinaldo strake
Ever meanwhile with random blows and wide;
With forestroke, backstroke, he assails the foe;
He often smites, but never plants a blow.

L
The monster threw a serpent at his breast,
That froze his heart beneath its iron case:
Now through the vizor flung the poisonous pest,
Which crept about his collar and his face.
Dismaid, Rinaldo fled the field, and prest
With all his spurs his courser through the chase:
But not behind the hellish monster halts,
Who in a thought upon the crupper vaults.

LI
Wend where the warrior will, an-end or wide,
Ever with him is that accursed Pest:
Nor knows he how from her to be untied,
Albeit his courser plunges without rest.
Like a leaf quakes his heart within his side,
Not that the snakes in other mode molest,
But they such horror and such loathing bred,
He shrieks, he groans, and gladly would be dead.

LII
By gloomiest track and blindest path he still
Threaded the tangled forest here and there;
By thorniest valley and by roughest hill,
And wheresoever darkest was the air;
Thus hoping to have rid him of that ill,
Hideous, abominable, poisonous Care;
Beneath whose gripe he foully might have fared,
But that one quickly to his aid repaired.

LIII
But aid, and in good time, a horseman bore,
Equipt with arms of beauteous steel and clear:
For crest, a broken yoke the stranger wore;
Red flames upon his yellow shield appear:
So was the courser's housing broidered o'er,
As the proud surcoat of the cavalier.
His lance he grasped, his sword was in its place,
And at his saddle hung a burning mace.

LIV
That warrior's mace a fire eternal fills,
Whose lasting fuel ever blazes bright;
And goodly buckler, tempered corslet thrills,
And solid helm; then needs the approaching knight
Must make him way, wherever 'tis his will
To turn his inextinguishable light.
Nor of less help in need Rinaldo stands,
To save him from the cruel monster's hands.

LV
The stranger horseman, like a warrior bold,
Where he that hubbub hears, doth thither swoop,
Until he sees the beast, whose snakes enfold
Rinaldo, linked in many a loathsome loop,
Who sweats at once with heat and quakes with cold,
Nor can he thrust the monster from his croup.
Arrived the stranger smote her in the flank,
Who on the near side of the courser sank:

LVI
But scarcely was on earth extended, ere
She rose and shook her snakes in volumed spire.
The knight no more assails her with the spear;
But is resolved to plague the foe with fire:
He gripes the mace and thunders in her rear
With frequent blows, like tempest in its ire;
Nor leaves a moment to that monster fell
To strike one stroke in answer, ill or well;

LVII
And, while he chases her or holds at bay,
Smites her and venges many a foul affront,
Counsels the paladin, without delay,
To take the road which scales the neighbouring mount:
He took that proffered counsel and that way,
And without stop, or turning back his front,
Pricked furiously till he was out of sight;
Though hard to clamber was the rugged height.

LVIII
The stranger, when he to her dark retreat
Had driven from upper light that beast of hell
(Where she herself doth ever gnaw and eat,
While from her thousand eyes tears ceaseless well)
Followed the knight, to guide his wandering feet;
And overtook him on the highest swell;
Then placed himself beside the cavalier
Him from those dark and gloomy parts to steer.

LIX
When him returned beheld Montalban's knight,
That countless thanks were due to him, he said,
And that at all times, as a debt of right,
His life should be for his advantage paid.
Of him he next demands, how he is hight,
That he may know and tell who brought him aid;
And among worthy warriors, and before
King Charles, exalt his prowess evermore.

LX
The stranger answered: "Let it irk not thee
That I not now my name to thee display;
Ere longer by a yard the shadows be,
This will I signify; a short delay. "
Wending together, they a river see
Whose murmurs woo the traveller from his way,
And shepherd-swain, by whiles, to their green brink;
There an oblivion of their love to drink.

LXI
My lord, that fountain's chilling stream and clear
Extinguished love; Angelica of yore
Drinking thereof, for good Montalban's peer
Conceived that hate she nourished evermore;
And if she once displeased the cavalier,
And he to her such passing hatred bore,
For this no other cause occasion gave,
My lord, save drinking of this chilly wave.

LXII
Arriving at that limpid river's side,
The cavalier that with Rinaldo goes,
Reined-in his courser, how with toil, and cried,
"Here 'twere not ill, meseemeth, to repose. "
-- "It cannot but be well" (the peer replied),
"Because, beside that mid-day fiercely glows,
I have so suffered from that hideous Pest,
As sweet and needful shall I welcome rest. "

LXIII
Upon the green sward lit the martial two,
While their loose horses through the forest fed;
And from their brows the burnished helmets threw
On that flowered herbage, yellow, green, and red.
Rinaldo to the liquid crystal flew,
By heat and thirst unto the river sped;
And with one draught of that cold liquid drove
Out of his burning bosom thirst and love.

LXIV
Whenas Rinaldo, sated with the draught,
Raising his head the stranger knight espied,
And saw that he, repentant, every thought
Of that so frantic love had put aside,
He reared himself, and said with semblance haught
That which he would not say before, and cried:
"Rinaldo, know that I am hight Disdain,
Bound hither but to break thy worthless chain. "

LXV
So saying, suddenly he passed from sight;
With him his horse: this in Rinaldo bred
Much wonderment; and the astonished knight,
"Where is he? " gazing round about him, said.
He cannot guess if 'twere a magic sprite,
A fiend by Malagigi thither sped,
From those his ministers, to break the chain,
Fettered whereby he lived so long in pain;

LXVI
Of if an angel from the heavenly sphere
In his ineffable goodness by the Lord,
Dispatched, as to Tobias's aid whilere,
A medicine for his blindness to afford.
But good or evil angel -- whatsoe'er
He was that him to liberty restored --
Him thanked and praised Rinaldo, for a heart
Healed only by his help of amorous smart.

LXVII
Old hate revived upon Rinaldo's side;
Nor he alone unworthy to be wooed,
The damsel deemed by pilgrimage so wide
Her half a league he would not have pursued.
Nathless anew Baiardo to bestride
To Sericane would go that warrior good:
As well because his honour him compelled,
As for the talk which he with Charles had held.

LXVIII
He pricked to Basle upon the following day,
Whither the tidings had arrived before:
That Count Orlando was, in martial fray,
To meet Gradasso and the royal Moor:
Nor through Orlando was divulged that say:
But one, who crost from the Sicilian shore,
And thither had, in haste, the journey made,
As certain news, the tidings had conveyed.

LXIX
Rinaldo had gladly been at Roland's side,
And from that battle far himself doth see:
Every ten miles he changes horse and guide,
And whips and spurs, and makes his courser flee.
He crost the Rhine at Constance, forward hied,
He traversed Alp, arrived in Italy,
He left Verona, Mantua, in his rear,
And reached and past the Po, with swift career.

LXX
Much towards eve already sloped the sun,
And the first star was glimmering in the sky,
When, doubting on the bank if he shall run
Another course, or in some hostel lie
Until the shades of night and vapours dun
Before Aurora's beauteous visage fly,
A cavalier approaching him he viewed,
Who courtesy in face and semblance shewed.

LXXI
He, after greeting him, if he were tied
In wedlock, made in gentle wise demand.
Rinaldo, wondering what the quest implied,
Made answer: "I am bound in nuptial band. "
-- "I joy thereat," the cavalier replied;
Then, that he might this saying understand,
Added, "I pray that you, sir knight, within
My mansion will this eve be pleased to inn.

LXXII
"For I will make you see what must please
A wight" (pursued the stranger) "that is wed. "
Rinaldo, as well that he would take his ease,
-- But this, with so long posting sore bested --
As that to see and hear strange novelties
By natural desire he still was led,
His offer takes, and enters a new road,
Following that cavalier to his abode.

LXXIII
A bowshot from the way diverged the two,
And a great palace fronting them descried:
Whence squires with blazing lights (a numerous crew)
Issued, and chased the darkness far and wide.
Entering, his eyes around Rinaldo threw,
And saw a place, whose like is seldom spied,
Of beauteous fabric, and well ordered plan;
Nor such huge cost befitted private man.

LXXIV
Of serpentine and of hard porphyry are
The stones which form the gateway's arch above.
Of bronze the portal leaves, which figures bear,
Whose lively features seem to breathe and move.
Beneath the vaulted entry, colours rare
Cheating the eye, in mixt mosaic strove,
The quadrangle within was galleried,
And of a hundred yards, on every side.

LXXV
A gateway is there to each galleried row,
And, twixt it and that gate, an arch is bent;
Of equal breadth, but different in their show,
For the architect had spared not ornament.
Each arch an entrance was; up which might go
A laden horse; so easy the ascent.
To arch above leads every stair withal,
And every arch is entrance to a hall.

LXXVI
Above, project the arches in such sort,
They for the spacious portals form a shade;
And each two pillars has for its support:
Of bronze are some, and some of marble made.
The ornamented chambers of the court
Too many are to be at length displayed;
With easements, which (beside what is in sight)
The skilful master underground had dight.

LXXVII
Tall columns, with their capitals of gold,
Which gemmed entablatures support in air;
Exotic marbles engraved with figures fair;
Picture and cast, and works so manifold,
Albeit by night they mostly hidden were,
Showed that two kings' united treasure ne'er
Would have sufficed such gorgeous pile to rear.

LXXVIII
Above the beauteous ornaments and rich
That mingled in that gay quadrangle meet,
There is a fresh and plenteous fountain, which
Scatters in many threads its watery sheet,
'Tis here that youths at equal distance pitch,
I' the middle, tables for the festive treat.
Whence they four gates of that rich mansion see,
And seen from those four gates as well may be.

LXXIX
By cunning master, diligent and wise,
With much and subtle toil, the fount was made:
In open gallery or pavilion's guise;
Which from eight separate fronts, projects a shade.
A gilded roof, which with enamelled dyes
Was stained below, the building overlayed.
Eight marble statues (snowy was the grain),
With the left arm that gilded roof sustain.

LXXX
Fair Amalthaea's horn in the right hand
Had quaintly sculptured the ingenious master,
Whence water, trickling forth with murmur bland,
Descends into a vase of alabaster;
And he, in likeness of a lady grand,
With sovereign art had fashioned each pilaster.
Various they were in visage and in vest,
But all of equal charms and grace possest.

LXXXI
Upon two beauteous images below
Each of these female statues fix their feet.
The lower seem with open mouth to show
That song and harmony to them are sweet;
And, by their attitude, 'twould seem, as though
Their every work and every study meet
In praising them, they on their shoulders bear,
As they would those whose likenesses they wear.

LXXXII
The images below them in their hand
Long scrolls and of an ample size contain,
Which of the worthiest figures of that band
The several names with mickle praise explain
As well their own at little distance stand,
Inscribed upon that scroll, in letters plain,
Rinaldo, by the help of blazing lights,
Marked, one by one, the ladies and their knights.

LXXXIII
The first inscription there which meets the eye
Recites at length Lucretia Borgia's fame,
Whom Rome should place, for charms and chastity,
Above that wife who whilom bore her name.
Strozza and Tebaldeo -- Anthony
And Hercules -- support the honoured dame:
(So says the scroll): for tuneful strain, the pair
A very Linus and an Orpheus are.

LXXXIV
A statue no less jocund, no less bright,
Succeeds, and on the writing is impressed;
Lo! Hercules' daughter, Isabella hight,
In whom Ferrara deems her city blest,
Much more because she first shall see the light
Within its circuit, than for all the rest
Which kind and favouring Fortune in the flow
Of rolling years, shall on that town bestow.

LXXXV
The pair that such desirous ardour shew
That aye her praises should be widely blown:
John James alike are named: of those fair two,
One is Calandra, one is Bardelon.
In the third place, and fourth, where trickling through
Small rills, the water quits that octagon,
Two ladies are there, equal in their birth,
Equal in country, honour, charms and worth.

LXXXVI
One was Elizabeth, one Eleanor,
And if we credit what that marble said,
Manto's so glorious city which such store
Sets my melodious Maro, whom she bred,
More vaunts not him, nor reverences more,
Than these fair dames her poet's honoured head.
The first of these her hallowed feet had set
On Peter Bembo and James Sadolet.

LXXXVII
Arelio and Castiglion, a polished pair,
That other lady, in mid air, sustain.
Their names were carved upon the marble fair,
Then both unknown, and now so fames a twain.
Next was a lady, that from Heaven shall heir
As mighty virtue as on earth doth reign,
Or ever yet hath reigned, in any age,
Well proved by Fortune in her love or rage.

LXXXVIII
Inscribed in characters of gold is here
Lucretia Bentivoglia, and among
Her praises, 'tis declared Ferrara's peer
Joys that such daughter doth to him belong.
Her shall Camillus voice, and far and near
Reno and Felsina shall hear his song,
Wrapt in as mighty wonder at the strain
As that wherewith Amphrysus heard his swain;

LXXXIX
And one, through whom that city's name (where sweet
Isaurus salts his wave in larger vase)
Fame shall from Africa to Ind repeat,
From southern tracts to Hyperborean ways,
More than because Rome's gold in that famed seat
Was weighed, whereof perpetual record says
Guy Posthumus -- about whose honoured brow
Phoebus and Pallas bind a double bough.

XC
Dian is next in order of that train.
"Regard not (said the marble) is she wear
A haughty port; for in her heart, humane
The matron is, as in her visage, fair.
Learned Celio Calcagnine in lofty strain
Her glories and fair name abroad shall bear,
And Juba's and Moneses' kingdom hear,
And Spain and farthest Ind, his trumpet clear;

XCI
And a Cavallo shall make such a font
Of poetry in famed Ancona run,
As that winged courser on Parnassus' mount;
Or was it on the hill of Helicon?
'Tis Beatrice, who next uprears her front,
Whereof so speaks the writing on the stone:
"Her consort Beatrice, while she has breath,
Blesses, and leaves unhappy at her death;

XCII
"Yea, Italy; that with her triumphs bright,
Without that lady fair shall captive be. "
A lofty song appears of her to indite
A lord of the Correggio's noble tree;
And, Benedeo's pride, Timotheus hight.
Between his banks, descending to the sea,
By their joint music shall the stream be stopt,
Whose trees erewhile the liquid amber dropt.

XCIII
Between this and that lofty column's place
Into fair Borgia fashioned (as was said)
Of aspect so distinguished, of such grace,
A lady was, of alabaster made,
That, hiding in a simple veil her face,
In sable, without gems or gold arraid,
She, 'mid the brightest, flung her light as far,
As amid lesser fires the Cyprian star.

XCIV
None knows, observing her with steadfast view,
If she of charms or grace have fuller store,
Whether her visage most majestic shew,
Or beam with genius or with beauty more.
"He that would speak -- would speak her praises true --
(Declares in fine the sculptured marble's lore)
The fairest of emprizes would intend,
But never bring his noble task to end. "

XCV
Albeit such grace and passing sweetness shewed
Her fair and well wrought image, she disdain
Appeared to nurse, that one of wit so rude
Should dare to sing her praise in humble strain,
As he that only without comrade stood,
I know not why, her statue to sustain,
The marble all those other names revealed.
That pair's alone the artist had concealed.

XCVI
The statues in the middle form a round,
The floor whereof dry stalks of coral pave;
Most pleasant, cool, and grateful, is that ground;
So rendered by the pure and crystal wave.
Which vent without in other channel found;
And issued forth in many a stream, to lave
A mead of azure, white, and yellow hue;
Gladdening the plants that on their margins grew.

XCVII
Conversing with his courteous host, the peer
Sate at the board, and oft and often prayed,
That without more delay the cavalier
Would keep the promise he whilere had made;
And marking, ever and anon, his cheer,
Observes his heart with some deep woe downweighed.
For not a moment 'mid their converse slips,
But what a burning sigh is on his lips.

XCVIII
Oft with desire was good Rinaldo stung
To ask that sorrow's cause, and the request
Was almost on the gentle warrior's tongue,
And there by courteous modesty represt.
Now at their banquet's close a youth, among
The menial crew, on whom that charge did rest,
Placed a gold cup before the paladin,
Filled full of gems without, of wine within.

XCIX
The host then somedeal smiling, from the board
Looked up at Aymon's son; but who this while
Well marked him, as he eyed Montalban's lord,
Had deemed him more disposed to weep than smile.
"So oft reminded, to maintain my word,
'Tis time meseems (said he, that owned the pile)
To shew the touchstone for a woman's love,
Which needs to wedded man must welcome prove.

C
"Ne'er, in my judgment, should the married dame
Be from espial by her lord released;
Thus shall he know if honour or if blame
His portion is; if he is man or beast.
The weight of horns, though coupled with such shame,
Is of all burdens upon the earth the least.
While well-nigh all behold his antlers spread,
He feels them not who has them on his head.

CI
"If certain of thy wife's fidelity,
Thou hast more ground to prize and hold her dear
Than one, whose wife is evil known to be,
Or husband that is still in doubt and fear.
Full many husbands live in jealousy,
And groundlessly, of women chaste and clear.
On many women many men rely
Meanwhile, who bear their branching antlers high.

CII
"If thou would'st be assured thy wife is true
(As sure methinks thou thinkest and must think)
For it is hard that notion to undo,
Unless thy trust before sure tokens sink,
-- No hearsay matter this -- thyself shalt view
The truth, if thou in this fair vessel drink,
Placed solely on the supper-board, that thou
May'st see the marvel promised thee but now.

CIII
"Drink, and a mighty marvel shall be seen;
For if thou wearest Cornwall's lofty crest,
No drop of wine shall pass thy lips between,
And all the draught be spilt upon thy breast.
If faithful is thy wife, thou shalt drink clean.
And now -- to try thy fortune -- to the test! "
He said, and with fixt eyes the sign explored;
If on his breast the wine Rinaldo poured.

CIV
Rinaldo was nigh moved the cup to raise,
And seek what he would haply wish unsought:
Forward he reached his hand and took the vase,
About to prove his fortune in the draught.
Then of the passing peril of the case,
Before it touched his lips, the warrior thought.
But let me, sir, repose myself, and I
Will then relate the Paladin's reply.


CANTO 43

ARGUMENT
Rinaldo from his courteous landlord hears
What folly had destroyed his every good;
Next learns another story, as he steers
Toward Ravenna with the falling flood:
Then last arrives where, conqueror o'er his foes
Orlando was, but in no joyful mood.
He, that the Child a Christian made whilere,
Christens Sobrino, and heals Olivier.


I
O Execrable avarice! O vile thirst
Of sordid gold! it doth not me astound
So easily thou seizest soul, immersed
In baseness, or with other taint unsound;
But that thy chain should bind, amid the worst,
And that thy talon should strike down and wound
One that for loftiness of mind would be
Worthy all praise, if he avoided thee.

II
Some earth and sea and heaven above us square,
Know Nature's causes, works, and properties;
What her beginnings, what her endings are;
And soar till Heaven is open to their eyes:
Yet have no steadier aim, no better care,
Stung by thy venom, than, in sordid wise,
To gather treasure: such their single scope,
Their every comfort, and their every hope.

III
Armies by him are broken in his pride,
And gates of warlike towns in triumph past:
The foremost he to breast the furious tide
Of fearful battle; to retire the last;
Yet cannot save himself from being stied
Till death, in thy dark dungeon prisoned fast.
Of others that would shine thou dimm'st the praise;
Whom other studies, other arts would raise.

IV
What shall of high and beauteous dames be said?
Who (from their lovers' worth and charms secure)
Against long service, I behold, more staid,
More motionless, than marble shafts, endure:
Then Avarice comes, who so her spells hath laid,
I see them stoop directly to her lure.
-- Who could believe? -- unloving, in a day
They fall some elder's, fall some monster's prey.

V
Not without reason here I raise this cry:
-- Read me who can, I read myself -- nor so
I from the beaten pathway tread awry,
Nor thus the matter of my song forego.
Not more to what is shown do I apply
My saying, than to what I have to show.
But now return we to the paladine,
Who was about to taste the enchanted wine.

VI
Fain would he think awhile, of whom I speak,
(As said) ere to his lips the vase he bore;
He thought; then thus: "When finding what we seek
Displeases, this 'tis folly to explore,
My wife's a woman; every woman's weak.
Then let me hold the faith I held before.
Faith still has brought, and yet contentment brings.
From proof itself what better profit springs?

VII
"From this small good, much evil I foresee:
For tempting God moves sometimes his disdain.
I know not if it wise or foolish be,
But to know more than needs, I am not fain.
Now put away the enchanted cup from me;
I neither will, nor would, the goblet drain;
Which is with Heaven's command as much at strife,
As Adam's deed who robbed the tree of life.

VIII
"For as our sire who tasted of that tree,
And God's own word, by eating, disobeyed,
Fell into sorrow from felicity,
And was by misery evermore o'erlaid;
The husband so, that all would know and see;
Whatever by his wife is done and said;
Passes from happiness to grief and pain,
Nor ever can uplift his head again. "

IX
Meanwhile the good Rinaldo saying so,
And pushing from himself the cup abhorred,
Beheld of tears a plenteous fountain flow
From the full eyes of that fair mansion's lord;
Who cried, now having somewhat calmed his woe,
"Accursed be he, persuaded by whose word,
Alas! I of the fortune made assay,
Whereby my cherished wife was reft away!

X
"Wherefore ten years ago wast thou not known,
So that I counselled might have been of thee?
Before the sorrows and the grief begun,
That have nigh quenched my eyes; but raised shall be
The curtain from the scene, that thou upon
My pain mayst look, and mayst lament with me;
And I to thee of mine unheard-of woe
The argument and very head will show.

XI
"Above, was left a neighbouring city, pent
Within a limpid stream that forms a lake;
Which widens, and wherein Po finds a vent.
Their way the waters from Benacus take.
Built was the city, when to ruin went
Walls founded by the Agenorean snake.
Here me of gentle line my mother bore,
But of small means, in humble home and poor.

XII
"If Fortune's care I was not, who denied
To me upon my birth a wealthy boon,
Nature that went with graceful form supplied;
So that in beauty rival had I none.
Enamoured of me in youth's early tide
Erewhile was dame and damsel more than one:
For I with beauty coupled winning ways;
Though it becomes not man himself to praise.

XIII
"A sage within our city dwelled, a wight,
Beyond belief, in every science great;
Who, when he closed his eyes on Phoebus' light,
Numbered one hundred years, one score and eight:
A savage life he led and out of sight,
Until impelled by love, the senior late
By dint of gifts obtained a matron fair,
Who secretly to him a daughter bare;

XIV
"And to prevent the child from being won,
As was erewhile the mother, that for gain
Bartered her chastity, whose worth alone
Excels what gold earth's ample veins contain,
With her he from the ways of man is gone,
And where he spies the loneliest place, his train
Of demons forces, in enchantment skilled,
This dome so spacious, fair, and rich, to build.

XV
"By ancient and chaste dames he there made rear
This daughter, that in sovereign beauty grew;
Nor suffered her to see or even hear
A man beside himself; and, for her view,
-- Lest lights should lack, whereby her course to steer --
The senior every modest lady, who
E'er on unlawful love the barrier shut,
Made limn in picture, or in sculpture cut.

XVI
"Nor he alone those virtuous dames, who, sage
And chaste, had so adorned antiquity,
Whose fame, preserved by the historic page,
Is never doomed its dying day to see;
But those as well that will in future age
Everywhere beautify fair Italy,
Made fashion in their well-known form and mien;
As eight that round this fount by thee are seen.

XVII
"What time the damsel ripe for husband shows,
So that the fruit may now be gathered, I
(Did chance or my misfortune so dispose? )
Am worthiest found; and those broad lands that lie
Without the walls which that fair town enclose,
-- The fishy flat no less than upland dry --
Extending twenty miles about that water,
He gives me for a dowry, with his daughter.

XVIII
"She was so mannered, was so fair of hue,
None could desire she other gifts should bring;
So well to broider was she taught, and sew,
Minerva knew not better; did she sing,
Or play, or walk, to those that hear and view,
She seems a heavenly, and no mortal thing;
And in the liberal arts was skilled as well
As her own sire, or scarce behind him fell.

XIX
"With genius high and beauty no less bright,
Which might have served the very stones to move,
Such love, such sweetness did the maid unite,
Thinking thereof meseems my heart is clove.
She had no greater pleasure or delight
Than being with me, did I rest or rove.
Twas long ere we had any strife; in fine
We quarrelled; and the fault, alas! was mine.

XX
"Five years my consort's father had been dead,
Since to that yoke I stooped, and pledged my vow;
When in short time (the manner shall be said)
Began the sorrows that I feel even now.
While me with all his pinions overspread
Love of the dame, whose praises thus I blow,
A noble townswoman with love of me
Was smit; more sorely smitten none could be.

XXI
"She, in all magic versed, was of such skill
As never was enchantress; by her say
Moved solid earth, and made the sun stand still,
Illumined gloomy night and darkened day:
Yet never could she work upon my will,
With salve I could not give, except with scathe
Of her to whom erewhile I pledged my faith.

XXII
"Not because she right gentle was and bright,
Nor because I believed her love so true,
Nor for large gift, nor promise often plight,
Nor yet because she never ceased to sue,
Could she from me obtain one spark of light
From that first flame my gentle consort blew:
So mates and masters every will in me
The knowledge of my wife's fidelity.

XXIII
"I in the hope, belief, and certitude
My wife to me was faithful evermore,
Should with contempt the beauty have eschewed
Of that famed daughter which fair Leda bore;
And all the wit and wealth wherewith was wooed
The illustrious shepherd upon Ida hoar.
But no repulse withal with her avails,
Who me, for ever at my side, assails.

XXIV
"One day that me beyond my palace sees
That weird enchantress, who Melissa hight,
And where she can discourse with me at ease,
She finds a way whereby my peace to blight;
And, goading me with evil jealousies,
The faith I nursed at heart, she puts to flight.
She 'gan commending my intent to be
Faithful to her who faithful was to me.

XXV
" `But that she faithful is, ye cannot say,
Save of her faith ye have assurance true;
If she fails not withal, where fail she may,
She faithful, modest may be deemed by you:
But is she never from your side away,
Is not permitted other man to view,
How does this boldness come, that you would be
The warrant of her untried modesty?

XXVI
" `Go forth awhile; go forth come from home alone;
And be the bruit in town and village spread
That she remains behind, and you are gone;
Let lovers and let couriers have their head:
If, unpersuaded still by prayer and boon,
She does no outrage to the marriage bed;
Though doing so she deem herself unseen,
Then faithful you the dame may justly ween. '

XXVII
"I with such words and such-like words was plied,
Till so on me the shrewd enchantress wrought,
I wished to see my consort's virtue tried
By certain proof, and to the touchstone brought.
-- `Now grant we (I to that witch-lady cried)
She prove what cannot by myself be thought,
How by some certain token can I read
If she will merit punishment or meed? '

XXVIII
" `A drinking-cup will I for that assay
Give you (she said) of virtue strange and rare:
Such was for Arthur made by Morgue the fay,
To make him of Genevra's fault aware.
The chaste wife's lord thereof may drink; but they
Drink not, whose wedded partners wanton are:
For, when they would the cordial beverage sup,
Into their bosom overflows the cup.

XXIX
" `Below departing, you the test shall try,
And, to my thinking, now shall you drink clean;
For clean as yet I think your consort, I:
The event however shall by you be seen.
Yet will I warrant not your bosom dry,
Should you repeat the proof; for if, between
The cup and lip, the liquor be not shed,
You are the happiest wight that ever wed. '

XXX
"The offer I accept, the vase to me
Is given, and trial made with full success;
For hitherto (as hoped) confirmed I see
My gentle consort's worth and faithfulness.
'Leave her awhile (Melissa said), and be
A month or twain a truant, more or less:
Then homeward wend; again the goblet fill;
And prove if you the beverage drink or spill. '

XXXI
"I thought it hard to leave my consort's side;
Not as so much about her truth in pain,
As that I could nor for two days abide,
Nay, not an hour without her could remain.
`-- You in another way (Melissa cried)
Guided by me, the truth shall ascertain;
Voice, vesture shall you change; and to her sight
Present yourself, disguised like other wight. '

XXXII
"Sir, a fair city nigh at hand, defends
Twixt fierce and threatening horns the foaming Po;
Whose jurisdiction to the shore extends,
Where the sea's briny waters come and go:
This yields in ancientry, but well contends
With neighbouring towns in rich and gorgeous show:
A Trojan remnant its foundations placed,
Which scaped from Attila's destructive waste.

XXXIII
"A rich, a youthful, and a handsome knight
Bridles this city with his sovereign sway;
Who, following a lost falcon in its flight,
Entering by chance my dwelling on a day,
Beheld my wife, who pleased him so at sight,
He bore her impress in his heart away;
Nor ceased to practise on her, with intent
To incline the matron to his evil bent.

XXXIV
"So often she repels the cavalier
That finally his courtship is foregone;
But her fair image graved by Love will ne'er
Be razed from memory; me Melissa won
(So well she soothed and flattered) of that peer
The face and figure to the sight to don;
And changed me -- nor well how can I declare --
In voice and visage and in eyes and hair.

XXXV
"I, having to my lady made a show
As eastward bound and gone, -- like him that wooed,
Her rich and youthful lover, altered so,
His semblance, attended by Melissa, go,
Into a page upon her side transmewed;
Who the most costly jewels with her bore
E'er brought form Ind, or Erithraean shore.

XXXVI
"I enter safely, that my palace knew,
And with me wends Melissa; and there I
So wholly at her ease Madonna view,
No woman or attendant squire is by.
To her with suppliant prayer forthwith I sue,
And next those goads to evil deed apply;
Show emerald, ruby, diamond, that might serve;
To make the firmest heart from honour swerve;

XXXVII
"And I declare to her the gift is small
To that, which she may hope to make her own;
Then of the vantage speak, that from his hall
Her husband at the present time is gone;
And I how long it was to her recall,
Since, as she knew, to her my love was shown;
And that my loving with such faith, in the end
Might worthily to some reward pretend.

XXXVIII
"At first she was somedeal disturbed; became
Like scarlet; nor would listen to my say;
But seeing those bright jewels flash like flame,
Her stubborn heart was softened, and gave way;
And in brief speech and feeble said the dame
What to remember takes my life away:
She with my wishes, said, she would comply,
If sure to be unseen of watchful eye.

XXXIX
"Me my wife's words like poisoned weapon thrill,
And pierce my suffering spirit through and through:
Through bones and veins there went a deadly chill;
My tongue clave to my throat: The witch withdrew
With that the magic mantle, and at will
Transformed me to mine ancient shape anew.
-- Bethink thee of what hue my wife became,
Taken by me in such notorious shame!

XL
"Of deadly hue we both of us remain;
We both stand silent; both with downcast eye.
So feeble is my tongue, that I with pain,
So faint my voice, that I with pain can cry;
'Thou wouldst betray me then, O wife, for gain,
If there was one that would my honour buy! '
She nought replies; nor save by tears she speaks,
Which furrow, as they fall, her woeful cheeks.

XLI
"Shame stings her sore, but yet in sorer wise
Wrath at the outrage I to her had done;
And so without restraint it multiplies,
And into rage and cruel hate is run,
To fly from me forthwith does she devise;
And, what time from his car dismounts the sun,
Runs to the shore, aboard her pinnace wends,
And all that night the stream in haste descends;

XLII
"And she at morn presents herself before
Him that had loved her once, the cavalier,
Whose semblance and whose borrowed face I wore
When, to my shame, I tempted her whilere.
To him that loved, and loves her evermore,
Her coming, it may be believed, is dear.
From thence she bade me never entertain
The hope she'd love me or be mine again.

XLIII
"Alas! with him she swells in mickle glee
Even from that day, and makes of me a jest;
And of that evil which I brought on me
I languish yet, and find no place of rest.
Justly this growing ill my death will be,
Of little remnant now of life possest.
I well believe I in a year had died,
But that a single comfort aid supplied.

XLIV
"That comfort was; of all which harboured were
Here for ten years (for still to every guest
Beneath my roof I bade the vessel bear)
Was none but with the wine had bathed his breast.
To have so many comrades in my care,
Some little soothes the griefs that so molest.
Thou only of so many hast been wise,
Who wouldst forbear the perilous emprize.

XLV
"My wish, o'erpassing every fitting bound,
To know what husband of his wife should know,
Is cause, by me no quiet will be found,
Whether my death be speedy of be slow.
Thereat at first Melissa joys; but drowned
Forthwith is her light mirth; for of my woe
Esteeming her the cause, that dame so sore
I hated, I would not behold her more.

XLVI
"Impatient to be treated with disdain
By me, -- of her more loved than life, she said -
Where she forthwith as mistress to remain
Had hoped, when thence the other was conveyed,
-- Not to behold such present, cause of pain,
Her own departure little she delayed;
And went so far away, no further word
By me was ever of that woman heard. "

XLVII
His tale the mournful cavalier so taught;
And when he now had closed his history,
With pity touched, somewhile immersed in thought
Rinaldo mused, and after made reply:
"Right ill advice to thee Melissa brought,
Who moved three thus to anger wasps; and I
Perceive in thee small wisdom, that wouldst sound
A thing which thou wouldst gladly not have found.

XLVIII
"If she, thy wife, by avarice was inclined
To break her faith and be to thee untrue,
Muse not: nor first nor last of womankind,
She, worsted, from such cruel war withdrew;
And by a meaner bribe yet firmer mind
Is even tempted fouler deed to do.
Of men, of how many we hear, that sold
Their patrons and their friends for sordid gold?

XLIX
"With such fierce arms thou ill didst her assail,
If to behold a brave defence thou sought.
Knowst thou not, against gold of no avail
Is stone, or steel to hardest temper wrought?
Meseems that thou in tempting her didst fail
More than herself, that was so quickly caught.
I know not, had she tempted thee as much,
If thou, thyself, hadst better stood the touch. "

L
Here ends Rinaldo, and -- the parley done --
Rises and to his rest desires to go:
Awhile will he repose; and then be gone,
An hour or two before the daylight show.
But little time has Aymon's warlike son;
Nor idly will that little time bestow.
To him the mansion's master made reply,
He in his house might at his pleasure lie.

LI
For bed and bower, within, were ready dight;
But -- would he take his counsel for his guide --
In comfort might he sleep throughout the night.
And yet advance some miles; "For thou," he cried,
"Shalt have a pinnace, that with rapid flight
And without risque shall with the current glide.
Therein shalt thou all night pursue thy way,
And on thy journey gain withal a day. "

LII
Good seemed that proffer in Rinaldo's eyes,
And to the courteous host large thanks he paid;
Then for the pinnace which that lord supplies,
That waits him with her crew, the warrior made.
Here, at full ease reclined, Rinaldo lies,
While with the stream his frigate is conveyed;
Which, by six oars impelled, flies fast and fair,
And cleaves the water, as a bird the air.

LIII
As soon as he reclines his weary head,
Asleep is Mount Albano's cavalier;
Having erewhile that they shall wake him, said,
As soon as they Ferrara's city near.
Melara lies left of that river's bed,
Sermide to the right; they in their rear
Next leave Stellata and Figarolo,
Where his two horns are lowered by angry Po.

LIV
Of those two horns that which t'ward Venice goes
Rinaldo's pilot left, and took the right;
Then the Bodeno past. Already shows
Faintly the eastern blue, and fades from sight;
For now Aurora from her basket throws
All her rich flowers, and paints it red and white;
When viewing the two castles of Tealdo,
Again his head uplifts the good Rinaldo.

LV
"O happy town! whereof" (the warrior cried)
"Spake Malagigi, having, far and near,
The fixt and wandering fires of heaven espied,
And forced some subject spirit to appear,
To me foretelling that in future tide,
-- What time with him I took his way whilere --
Even to such pitch thy glorious fame should rise,
Thou from all Italy wouldst bear the prize. "

LVI
So saying, in his barge he all this while
Hurries, as if the bark with pinions flew,
Scowering the king of rivers, to that isle
Nearest the town; and, though it not to view
(Deserted and neglected then) doth smile,
This yet rejoices to behold anew;
Nor makes small mirth thereat; because aware
Hereafter how adorned 'twill be and fair.

LVII
Before when he with him that way had gone,
From Malagigi, his cousin, did he hear
That when seven hundred times his course had run,
Circling the heaven in Aries, the fourth sphere,
Of islands this should be the fairest one
In sea, or pool, or river, far and near,
So that who this beheld, would brook no more
To hear that praised which fair Nausicaa bore.

LVIII
He heard, it in fair mansions would outdo
That island which Tiberius held so dear;
And trees that in Hesperian gardens grew
Would yield to what this beauteous place should bear;
-- So rare its race of beasts -- no fairer shew
Herded or housed erewhile by Circe were;
Venus with Loves and Graces there should sport,
Nor more in Gnide and Cyprus keep her court;

LIX
And so would flourish through his study and care,
Who will with knowledge and with power should blend;
And who so safely should that bright repair
With circling wall and sheltering dyke defend,
The united world's assault it well might dare,
Nor call on foreign power its aid to lend;
And that Duke Hercules' sire and Hercules' son
Was he by whom this marvel should be done.

LX
So wends the warrior summing in his mind
What erst to him had told his cousin wise;
What time the sage of future things divined,
Whereof with him he often wont devize;
And aye contemplating that city blind,
"How can it ever be," Rinaldo cries,
"That in all liberal and all worthy arts
Shall flourish so these waste and watery parts?

LXI
"And that to city of such amplitude
And beauty such a petty burgh should grow,
And where but marsh and miry pool is viewed,
Henceforth should full and fruitful harvests glow?
Even now I rise, to hail the gentle blood,
The love, the courtesy thy lords shall show,
O thou fair city, in succeeding years;
Thy burghers' honours and thy cavaliers'.

LXII
"The grace ineffable of powers above,
Thy princes' wisdom and their love of right,
Shall with perpetual peace, perpetual love
Preserve thee in abundance and delight;
And a defence from all the fury prove
Of such as hate thee; and unmask their spite.
Be thy content thy neighbours' wide annoy,
Rather than thou shouldst envy other's joy! "

LXIII
While thus Rinaldo speaks, so swiftly borne
By the quick current flies that nimble yawl;
Not to the lure more swiftly makes return
The falcon, hurrying at his lord's recall.
Thenceforth the right-hand branch of the right horn
Rinaldo takes; and hid are roof and wall:
St. George recedes; recede from that swift boat
The turrets OF GAIBANA and OF THE MOAT.

LXIV
Montalban's martial lord (as it befell,
That thought moved thought, which others moved again)
In memory chances on the knight to dwell,
That him at supper late did entertain;
That, through this city's cause, the truth to tell,
Hath reason evermore to be in pain;
And of the magic vessel him bethinks
Which shows his consort's guilt to him that drinks;

LXV
And him bethinks therewith of what the knight
Related; how of all that he had tried,
Who of his goblet drank, there was no wight
But split the wine he to his lips would guide.
Now he repents him; now, "'Tis my delight,"
(Mutters) "that I the proof would not abide:
Succeeding I should prove but what I thought;
And not succeeding, to what pass am brought!

LXVI
"This my belief I deem a certainty;
And faith could have but small increase in me:
So, if I this should by the touchstone try,
My present good would little bettered be:
But small the evil would not prove, if I
Saw of my Clarice what I would not see.
This were a thousand against one to stake;
To hazard much where I could nothing take. "

LXVII
The knight of Clermont buried in this mood,
Who lifted not his visage from the floor,
A mariner with much attention viewed,
That overright was seated at his oar;
And, for he deemed he fully understood
The thought that prest the cavalier so sore,
Made him (well-spoken was the man and bold)
Wake from his muse, some talk with him to hold.

LXVIII
The substance of the talk between the two
Was, that the husband little wit possest,
Who, wishing to assay if she was true,
Had tried his wife by too severe a test:
For woman, proof to gold and silver, who,
Armed but with modesty, defends her breast,
This from a thousand faulchions will defend
More surely, and through burning fires will wend.

LXIX
The mariner subjoined: "Thou saidest well;
With gifts so rich he should not her have prest;
For, these assaults, these charges, to repel,
Not good alike is every human breast.
I know not if of wife thou has heard tell
(For haply not with us the tale may rest)
That in the very sin her husband spied,
For which she by his sentence should have died.

LXX
"My lord should have remembered, gold and meed
Have upon every hardest matter wrought:
But he forgot this truth in time of need;
And so upon his head this ruin brought,
Ah! would that he in proof, like me, a deed
Done in this neighbouring city had been taught,
His country and mine own; which lake and fen,
Brimming with Mincius' prisoned waters, pen.

LXXI
"I of Adonio speak, that in a hound
A treasure on the judge's wife conferred. "
"Thereof," replied the paladin, "the sound
Hath not o'erpast the Alps; for never word
Of this neighbouring France, nor in my round
Through far and foreign countries have I heard:
So tell, if telling irks not," said the peer,
"What willingly I bown myself to hear.

LXXII
The boatman then: "Erewhile was of this town
One Anselm, that of worthy lineage came;
A wight that spent his youth in flowing gown,
Studying his Ulpian: he of honest fame,
Beauty, and state assorting with his own,
A consort sought, and one of noble name:
Nor vainly; in a neighbouring city, crowned
With superhuman beauty, one he found.

LXXIII
"She such fair manners and so graceful shows,
She seems all love and beauty; and much more
Perchance than maketh for her lord's repose;
Then well befits the reverend charge he bore.
He, wedded, strait in jealousy outgoes
All jealous men that ever were before:
Yet she affords not other cause for care
But that she is too witty and too fair.

LXXIV
"In the same city dwelt a cavalier,
Numbered that old and honoured race among,
Sprung from the haughty lineage, which whilere
Out of the jaw-bone of a serpent sprung:
Whence Manto, doomed my native walls to rear,
Descended, and with her a kindred throng.
The cavalier (Adonio was he named)
Was with the beauties of the dame inflamed;

LXXV
"And for the furtherance of his amorous quest,
To grace himself, began his wealth to spend,
Without restraint, in banquet and in vest,
And what might most a cavalier commend:
If he Tiberius' treasure had possest,
He of his riches would have made an end.
I well believe two winters were not done,
Ere his paternal fortune was outrun.

LXXVI
"The house erewhile, frequented by a horde
-- Morning and evening -- of so many friends,
Is solitary; since no more his board
Beneath the partridge, quail, and pheasant bends.
Of that once noble troop upon the lord,
Save beggars, hardly any one attends.
Ruined, at length he thinks he will begone
To other country, where he is unknown.

LXXVII
"He leaves his native land with this intent,
Nor letteth any his departure know;
And coasts, in tears and making sad lament,
The marshes that about his city go:
He his heart's queen, amid his discontent,
Meanwhile forgets not, for this second woe.
Lo! him another accident that falls,
From sovereign woe to sovereign bliss recalls!

LXXVIII
"He saw a peasant who with heavy stake
Smote mid some sapling trunks on every side:
Adonio stopt, and wherefore so he strake,
Asked of the rustic, that in answer cried,
Within that clump a passing ancient snake,
Amid the tangled stems he had espied:
A longer serpent and more thick to view
He never saw, nor thought to see anew;

LXXIX
"And that from thence he would not wend his way
Until the reptile he had found and slain,
When so Adonio heard the peasant say,
He scarce his speech with patience could sustain,
Aye reverence to the serpent wont to pay,
The honoured ensign of his ancient strain;
In memory that their primal race had grown
Erewhile from serpent's teeth by Cadmus sown;

LXXX
"And by the churl the offended knight so said,
And did withal, he made him quit the emprize;
Leaving the hunted serpent neither dead,
Nor injured, nor pursued in further wise.
Thither, where he believes would least have spread
The story of his woe, Adonio hies;
And in discomfort and in sorrow wears,
Far from his native land, seven weary years.

LXXXI
"Neither for distance nor for straitened cheer,
Which will not let Thought run its restless round,
Ceased Love, so wont to rein the cavalier,
Aye to inflame his heart, aye vex his wound:
At length those beauties, to his eyes so dear,
Parforce must he revisit, homeward bound.
Unshorn, afflicted, he, in poor array,
Thither returns, from whence he went his way.

LXXXII
"My city, at the time whereof I tell,
To Rome was fain to send an embassy;
That sometime near his holiness should dwell;
And for how long a time could none foresee.
Upon our judge the lot of envoy fell:
O day, that ever wept by him will be!
To be excused, Anselmo promised, prayed,
And bribed; but at the last parforce obeyed.

LXXXIII
"As no less cruel and less hard to abide
He deemed a woe which caused such piteous smart,
Than had he seen a hostile hand his side
Lay bare, and from his bosom pluck his heart:
Dead-white with jealous fear his cheek is dyed,
Through doubt of his fair consort while apart;
And in the mode he deems may best avail,
He supplicates her not in faith to fail,

LXXXIV
"Nor beauty, to his wife the husband cries,
Nor noble blood, nor fortune, are enow
To make a woman to true honour rise,
Save chaste in name and deed; subjoining how
The virtue that mankind most highly prize
Is that which triumphs after strife; and now
Through his long absense, a fair field and wide
Is opened where that virtue may be tried.

LXXXV
"With such persuasions, and with many more
Anselm exhorts the lady to be true.
His going doth his woful wife deplore.
O heaven, what tears, what loud complaints ensue!
Immersed in her despair, that lady swore,
Sooner the sun bedimmed the world should view
Than she would break her faith; she would expire
Sooner than she would cherish such desire.

LXXXVI
"Though to the lady's promise and protest
He lent belief, and somewhat calmed his fears,
Until he further hear he will not rest;
And till he can find matter for his tears,
A soothsayer he among his friends possest,
Prized for his knowledge, as the first of seers;
Who of all witchery and of magic art
Had read the whole, or read the greater part.

LXXXVII
"To him before departing does he pray,
To take the charge upon himself to see
If true would be Argia while away
(So name his consort), or the contrary.
Won by his prayers, he takes the time o' the day;
Figures the heavens as they appear to be.
Anselmo left him at his work, and came
His answer on the following day to claim.

LXXXVIII
"The astrologer is silent, loath to expose
A matter that will work the doctor woe;
And would excuse himself with many a gloze:
But when he sees, he would the evil know,
Argia will break faith with him, he shows,
As soon as he shall from his threshold go.
Nor prayer shall soften her, nor beauty fire:
Corrupted will she be by gain and hire.

LXXXIX
"When to Anselmo's early doubt and fear
Are joined the threatnings of the signs above,
How stands his heart may well to thee appear,
If thou hast known the accidents of love;
And worse than every woe, wherewith whilere
The afflicted spirits of that husband strove,
Is that it by the prophet is foretold,
Argais' honour will be bought and sold.

XC
"Now to support his wife, as best he may,
From falling into such an evil deed.
For man, alas, will sometimes disarray
The altar, when he finds himself in need,
What gold and gems the judge had put away,
(A plenteous store) he leaves; and field and mead,
Rents, fruits, and all possessions whatsoe'er
Leaves to his consort; all his worldly gear:

XCI
" `With power,' he said, `not only without measure,
These, as thou needest, to enjoy and spend,
But do with them according to thy pleasure,
Consume and fling away, and give and vend:
Other account I ask not of my treasure,
If such as now I find thee in the end;
But such as now remain; -- at thy command
(Even shouldst thou squander both) are house and land. '

XCII
"Unless she heard he thither made repair,
He prayed that she would dwell not in the town;
But would a farm of his inhabit, where
She might with all convenience live alone.
And this besought he of his consort fair,
As thinking, that the rustics, which on down
Pasture their flocks, or fruitful fallows till,
Could ne'er contaminate her honest will.

XCIII
"Her fearful husband still embracing close,
Her arms about his neck Argia threw:
A burst of tears her visage overflows:
For from her eyes two streams their way pursue.
She grieves, he guilty should his wife suppose;
As if she hath already been untrue:
For his suspicion to its source she traced;
That in her faith no faith Anselmo placed.

XCIV
"Citing their long farewell, I should exceed.
`-- To thee at length,' he so the dame addrest,
`I recommend my honour'; -- and indeed
Took leave, and on his road in earnest prest;
And truly felt, on wheeling round his steed,
As if his heart was issuing from his breast.
She follows him as long as she can follow
With eyes whose tears her furrowed visage hollow.

XCV
"Poor, pale, unshorn, and wretched (as whilere
To you in former strain by me was said),
Homeward meanwhile the wandering cavalier,
Hoping he there should be unknown, had made.
Beside the lake that pilgrim journeyed, near
The city, where he gave the serpent aid,
In that thick brake besieged by village swain,
Who with his staff the reptile would have slain.

XCVI
"Arriving here, upon the dawn of light,
For yet some stars were glimmering in the skies,
Approaching him, in foreign vesture dight,
Along the shore, a damsel he espies.
Though neither squire nor waiting wench in sight
Appears, yet noble is the lady's guise.
With pleasing visage she Adonio boards,
And then breaks silence in the following words.

XCVII
"Albeit thou know'st me not, O cavalier
I am thy kin, and greatly bound to thee:
I am thy kin; for of the lineage clear
Derived of haughty Cadmus' seed are we.
I am the fairy Manto, that whilere
Laid the first stone of this rude villagery;
And (as thou haply mayst have heard it famed)
Mantua from me the rising town was named.

XCVIII
" `O' the fairies am I one: with that to show
Our fatal state, and what it doth import;
We to all other kinds of ill below
Are subject by our natal influence, short
Of death; but with immortal being such woe
Is coupled, death is not of direr sort.
For every seventh day we all must take
By certain law, the form of spotted snake.

XCIX
" `So sad it is that loathsome coil to fill,
And prone, at length, upon the ground to crawl;
Equal to this here is no worldly ill;
So that immortal life is cursed by all.
And thou the debt I owe thee (for my will
Is to inform thee of its cause withal)
Shalt know as well; how on that fatal day
Of change we are to countless ills a prey.

C
" `So hated as the serpent beast is none;
And we that wear its evil form, alarm,
Outrage, and war endure from every one:
For all that see us, hunt and do us harm:
Unless we can to ground for shelter run,
We feel how heavy falls man's furious arm.
Happier it were to die, than languish -- broke,
Battered, and crippled by the cruel stroke.

CI
" `My mighty obligation due to thee
Is that, when once thou didst this greenwood thread,
Thou from a rustic's fury rescuedst me,
By whose ill handling was I sore bested.
But for thine aid, I should not have got free,
Without a broken spine or battered head:
With body crooked and crushed I should have lain,
Albeit I could not by his arm be slain.

CII
" `Because thou hast to know upon the day
We sprang from earth with scales of dragon dight,
-- Subject to us at other times -- to obey
The heavens refuse; and we are void of might:
At other seasons, at our simple say
The circling sun stands still, and dims its light:
Fixt earth is moved, and in a circle wheels:
Ice at our word takes fire, and fire congeals.

CIII
" `Now here, prepared to render thee the meed
Of benefit then done to me, I stand;
For now, dismantled of my dragon weed,
Vainly no grace of me wilt thou demand.
Even now, thrice richer art thou by my deed,
Than when thou heirdst erewhile thy father's land:
Now will I that henceforth thou shalt be poor;
But wealth, the more 'tis spent, augment the more:

CIV
" `And because with that ancient knot thou still,
I know, art tangled, which by Love was tied,
The mode and order, how thou mayst fulfil
Thy wishes, shall by me be signified.
Now that her lord is absent, 'tis my will
My scheme without delay by thee be tried;
Go forth the lady at her farm to find,
Without the town; nor will I say behind. '

CV
"She her discourse continuing, 'gan advise
What form he to that lady's eyes should take:
I say, what vesture wear, and in what wise
Should speak, how tempt her; what entreaties make:
And said, how she her figure would disguise;
For, save the day wherein she was a snake,
Upon all others went the fairy drest
In whatsoever figure pleased her best.

CVI
"She in a pilgrim's habit clothed the knight,
Such as from door to door our alms entreat:
Into a dog she changed herself to sight;
The smallest ever seen, of aspect sweet,
Long hair, than ermine's fur more snowy white;
And skilled withal in many a wondrous feat.
Towards Agria's villa, so transmewed,
The fairy and the knight their way pursued;

CVII
"And at the labourer's cabins in his round
The stripling halts, before he stops elsewhere;
And certain rustic reeds begins to sound;
His dog is up, and dances to the air.
The dame, that hears the voice and cry rebound,
Is by the rumour moved to see the pair.
Into her court she has the pilgrim brought,
As Anselm's evil destiny had wrought:

CVIII
"And here Adonio gives the dog command;
And here by that obedient dog is shown
Dance of our country and of foreign land,
With paces, graces, fashions of his own;
And finally he does, amid that band,
With winning ways what else is to be done,
With such attention of the admiring crew,
None winked their eyes, their breath they scarcely drew.

CIX
"Great marvel in the dame, then longing, bred
That gentle dog: she one that her had nursed
With no mean offer to his master sped.
-- `If all the riches for which women thirst'
(To her embassadress in answer said
The wary pilgrim) `in my bags were pursued,
There is not in that treasure what would boot
To purchase of my dog one single foot':

CX
"And he, the truth of his discourse to show,
Into a corner took the beldam old,
And bade the dog in courtesy bestow
Upon that messanger a mark of gold.
The dog obeyed, and shook himself; and lo!
The treasure! which he bade her have and hold:
Thereto he added, `Thinkest thou by ought
A dog so fair and useful can be bought?

CXI
" `For whatsoever I of him demand,
I empty-handed never go away;
Now pearl, now ring will he shake from him, and
Now gift me with some rich and fair array.
Yet tell madonna he is at her command;
But not for gold; for him no gold can pay;
But if I for one night her arms may fill,
Him may she take and do with him her will. '

CXII
"So said, a gem, new-dropt, on her he prest,
And bade her to the lady bear the boon.
That in the costly produce she possest
Ten, twenty ducats' value deemed the crone.
She bore the message to the dame addressed,
And after wrought on her till she was won
To buy the beauteous dog, who might be bought
By payment of a prize which costeth nought.

CXIII
"Argia somewhat coy at first appears;
Partly that she her faith will not forego;
Partly that she believes not all she hears
That beldam of the dog and pilgrim show.
The nurse insists, and dins into her ears,
That seldom such a chance occurs below;
And makes her fix another day to see
That dog, when fewer eyes on her shall be.

CXIV
"The next appearance which Adonio made
Was ruin to the doctor; for the hound
Doubloons, by dozens and by dozens, braid
Of pearl, and costly jewels scattered round.
So that Argia's pride of heart was laid;
And so much less the dame maintained her ground,
When she in him, who made the proffer, viewed
The Mantuan cavalier that whilom wooed.

CXV
"The harlot nurse's evil oratory,
The prayer and presence of the suitor lord,
The occasion to acquire that mighty fee,
Which wretched Anselm's absence would afford,
The hope that none would her accuser be,
So vanquish her chaste thoughts, she makes the accord --
Accepts the wondrous dog; and, as his pay,
To her leman yields herself a willing prey.

CXVI
The fruits of love long culled that cavalier
With his lady fair; unto whom the fay
Took such affection, whom she held so dear,
That she obliged herself with her to stay.
Through all the signs the sun had travelled, ere
The judge had leave to wend his homeward way.
He finally returned; but sore afraid
Through what the astrologer erewhile had said.

CXVII
"Arrived, his first employment is to run
To that astrologer's abode, and crave,
If shame and evil to his wife be done;
Of if she yet her faith and honor save.
The heavens he figured; and to every one
Of the seven planets its due station gave;
Then to the judge replied that it had been
Even as he feared, and as it was foreseen.

CXVIII
"By richest presents tempted to forego
Her faith, a prey was she to other wight.
This to the doctor's heart was such a blow;
Nor lance, nor spear, I deem, so sorely smite.
To be more certified he wends (although
He is too well assured the seer is right)
To that old nurse; and, drawing her apart,
To learn the truth employs his every art.

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.