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THE

ORLANDO FURIOSO

TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH VERSE

FROM THE ITALIAN OF

LUDOVICO ARIOSTO

WITH NOTES

BY

WILLIAM STEWART ROSE

VOL. I.

LONDON

JOHN MURRAY ALBEMARLE-STREET

MDCCCXXIII

Lately was published, by the same author, printed uniformly with the present work, price 9s. 6d.

THE INNAMORATO

intended as

AN INTRODUCTION TO THE FURIOSO

sold by W. Blackwood Edinburgh and

T. Cadell Strand

LONDON:

printed by Thomas Davison, Whitefriars.

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INTRODUCTION.

It will, probably, be expected that a new translation of the Furioso should be prefaced by some account of the versions which have preceded it; and I the more readily undertake this little task, as in the execution of it my reasons will be found for the enterprize upon which I have myself adventured.

The first version of Ariosto’s great poem was made by Sir John Harrington, the godson of Queen Elizabeth, who translated it into the same stanza as that of the original. The main defect of this work is its infidelity, and I cannot better illustrate this than by observing, that he has compressed a canto of nearly two hundred stanzas into ninety. A more unpardonable defect is, that he always omits what is best worth preserving; and, as an Italian friend once observed to me, it is the poetry of Ariosto which he sacrifices. Another defect of this translator is that of exaggerating the extravagances of his author, and often spreading a ray of humour into a broad glare of buffoonery.

The history of his work may explain these faults, and more especially the last; as we are told he began his labours with the story of Giocondo, without the intention of pursuing them further; when his royal mistress imposed upon him the entire version of the Furioso as a sort of covering for the indecent episode which he had chosen to give as a specimen of the Italian.

If, however, Harrington cannot pretend to much merit as a translator, he has some claims to consideration as a writer, and his work has fallen into more obscurity than the antiquated language in which he writes, will serve to explain. His idioms, his grammar, and his construction (though things with difficulty kept free from foreign modes of speech in a translation) are exclusively English. His narrative is light and lively, and, in perusing it, the reader always feels as if he is swimming with the stream.

The gleam of Italian sunshine, during which he wrote, though it produced beneficial effects upon our literature, was of short duration.

“At one stride came the dark .”

The study of Italian letters was dropped at once, and I believe that no traces of literary intercourse between Italy and England are to be found during the succeeding age.

In the reign of George II. however, we have a proof of renewed intercourse in the publication of a new translation of the Furioso, dedicated to that monarch, as Harrington's version had been to Queen Elizabeth. This work was produced by William Huggins, Esq. of Headly Park, near Farnham, in Surrey. He was, I am told, reckoned in his day a very learned man, was passionately devoted to music, said to be a great proficient in it, and to have been the person who figures in Hogarth’s picture, as the Enraged Musician.

But, whatever other accomplishments he may have possessed, he had certainly no feeling of poetry, and seems to have taken it up as Vernon did rebellion; “because it lay in his way.” At least I know no better reason for his translation of Ariosto than his having made a journey to Italy.

The title-page of his book (in two vols. quarto) bears the date of 1757, and was printed for Rivington in Paternoster-row, and John Cook, a bookseller of Farnham, whose shop I remember frequenting in the days of my boyhood. It is printed with the English and Italian confronted, executed in the same stanza as Harrington’s version, and translated line for line. Though there are to be found in it some very strange mistakes of Ariosto’s meaning, it is, generally speaking, faithful, and as such, has, primâ facie , strong claims upon attention. But a species of fidelity is hardly to be coveted, which, at the best, does not accomplish the only end which should be proposed by it. For the translator often departs from the sense of the author, while he echoes his very words. Take an instance. Ariosto has this line.

Dove presso à Bordea mette Caronna.

“where the Garonne disembogues itself near Bordeaux:” which Huggins has rendered,

Where to Bordea runs Caronna near.

The thing, perhaps, most worthy of remark in his book, is a passage of the preface, which throws a curious light upon the state of Italian literature in England at the period of its publication. “It may not be improper (says the author) to observe, that after this work was pretty far advanced, I was informed there had been a translation published in the reign of Elizabeth, and dedicated to that queen. Whereupon I requested a friend to obtain a sight of that book; for it is (it seems) very scarce, and the glorious original much more so in this country .”

A few years produced a singular revolution in this respect. Several editions of Ariosto have since that period been published in England; and Hoole’s version, the next which succeeded that of Huggins, has, I believe, gone through nearly twenty editions.

This last circumstance may, however, be cited, rather as a proof of the new passion entertained for Italian literature, than as an illustration of the progress which had been made in it: for never was a worse or more faithless translation executed than that of Hoole. Every grace, every shade, every gradation of colouring which distinguishes Ariosto, is lost in it. Thus, where the Italian poet, in imitation of Homer, wishing to diversify a scene of slaughter, by giving something of character or of locality to his victims, tells us that Rodomont wounded Lewis the Provencal, Luigi il provenzal , Hoole has absurdly translated the passage ‘ Provincial Lewis; ’ thus awakening a most ridiculous train of ideas, and suggesting the notion of some unfortunate provincial who had the misfortune to have his brains knocked out on his visit to the metropolis. Nor are they only tints and shades which are sacrificed in this miserable copy; for the sense of the author, where most obvious, is frequently misinterpreted; and in one couplet the translator has actually mistaken north for south, and sun for wind; the one specified, and the other obviously implied. The words of the original are,

‘ Ver ponente io andava lungo la sabbia, Che del settentrion sente la rabbia.’

Canto VI. stanza xxxiv.

Which passage is thus rendered by him:

Against the west along those sands we came, Which feel the southern heat of Phœbus’ flame .

In addition, however, to the mistakes of Hoole, and what I must call the meanness and monotony of his poetry, I am inclined to consider the metre which he has chosen, as one among the many causes of his failure: this is our heroic couplet, which appears to me to be the measure most opposite to that of Ariosto which could possibly have been selected. Nothing but a stanza can reflect the original; for it is to be observed, that the poet usually closes the idea with it, and that the end of most of them is marked by something epigrammatic either in sense or sound, which would be out of its place except in the concluding couplet. Each canto, or collection of stanzas, then may be compared to a gallery of cabinet pictures, all perhaps striking or beautiful, but frequently executed on different principles, each of which is often only in harmony with itself. Whoever, therefore, unites any of these little paintings, yet more, he who runs them into one piece, will necessarily either present a picture full of cross lights, and every species of inconsistency, or will only avoid this by leaving out whatever is most characteristic in the original, and by making a smear without light, shade, or distinction of outline.

Entertaining this opinion, I have chosen the stanza in preference to the couplet; and because I would imitate Ariosto as closely as the nature of our language will allow, have, like Harrington and Huggins, chosen his own ottava rima as the most preferable form of it. Like Mr. Huggins, I have also translated stanza for stanza, but have not, however, imitated that gentleman and some German translators by imposing on myself severer restrictions than appeared to me to be necessary; as in rendering him uniformly line for line; the less so because there is little analogy between the construction of the two languages, and what is easy in the Italian (I need not say that ease is one characteristic of Ariosto) might often appear harsh and inverted in English. It is for this reason that I have not fettered myself by the rule I have mentioned, wherever I conceived any bad effect would result from the adherence to it; but I have, on the other hand, observed it where I thought such a compliance was not objectionable; because I would, wherever it was practicable, tread in the very footsteps of the Italian poet.

My reasons for so religious, some may think so superstitious, an observance of my author’s text, have, at least, not been hastily adopted. A long consideration of the means through which he wrought, has convinced me that many strong or beautiful ef fects produced by him, result out of an accumulation of circumstances, which, though they may appear of little value taken separately, are to be esteemed important as conducing, each in its place, to the main object of the poet. In this particularity he bears a striking resemblance to Defoe. The Furioso moreover often pleases as a whole, where it offends in parts, and, notwithstanding many defects, is perhaps the poetical work which is oftenest reperused with pleasure. Among the many things which have probably contributed to this, may be remarked Ariosto’s frequent sacrifice of force to truth; which (to take a short instance) I should say was illustrated by Pinabel’s narration of the loss of his lady, in the second canto, where some may be inclined to think that the poet overtalks himself, and many might wish to see the infusion of a spirit, which would perhaps be out of harmony with the circumstances. He is often also studious of what the artists call a repose, and upon which a translator should be most cautious never to intrude. These are some of the reasons why I have followed my leader so warily, and have never intentionally deviated from the print of his steps.

I am, however, well aware that a very weighty objection may be made to a translation so close as that which I present to the reader. It may be said that a simplicity of diction, which is pleasing in the Italian, is only to be endured in a less perfect language, when seasoned by the addition of some grace, congenial with the spirit of that into which it is transfused: and hence that to translate the Furioso faithfully into English, would be, to borrow a metaphor used somewhere by Alfieri, to transfer an air from the harp to the hurdy-gurdy.

There is, undoubtedly, great force in this reasoning and illustration. To this, however, I will oppose, in the way of question, another illustration which is drawn from a sister art. Would a real lover of Raphael prefer a copy of one of his pictures, which, though well painted, did not convey a true idea of his colouring, or a print of it carefully executed, which gave, at least, a faithful idea of the design? To those who would choose the engraving I offer the following translation.

That it is diligently executed, I may venture to assert; for, mistrusting a hasty mode of reading and a facility of composition, I have sought to guard against the faults incidental to these habits, by frequent and attentive correction. I have with this view, submitted every sheet of my present translation to judicious English and Italian friends; have carefully, if not impartially, weighed their objections, and revised my translation more than once by a close comparison with the original.

ERRATA .

Page 32, note 6, for vince, read vinces.

Page 38, argument, for Bradamont, read Bradamant.

Page 56, stanza liii., dele comma after flanks.

Page 88, stanza liii., for campaign, read champaign.

Page 89, stanza lvi., instead of as to Augustus, read as to Augustus’.

Pige 170, stanza lxxxi, line 5, after who there, as lord, dele and.

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THE ORLANDO FURIOSO.

CANTO I.

ARGUMENT.

Angelica whom pressing danger frights,

Flies in disorder through the greenwood shade.

Rinaldo’s horse escapes: he, following, fights

Ferrau, the Spaniard, in a forest glade.

A second oath the haughty paynim plights,

And keeps it better than the first he made.

King Sacripant regains his long-lost treasure;

But good Rinaldo mars his promised pleasure.

THE ORLANDO FURIOSO.

CANTO I.

I.

Of loves and ladies, knights and arms , I sing, Of courtesies , and many a daring feat ; And from those ancient days my story bring, When Moors from Afric passed in hostile fleet, And ravaged France, with Agramant their king, Flushed with his youthful rage and furious heat; Who on king Charles’, the Roman emperor’s head Had vowed due vengeance for Troyano dead.

II.

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

III.

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

IV.

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

V.

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

VI.

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

VII.

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

VIII.

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

IX.

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

X.

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

XI.

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

XII.

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

XIII.

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

XIV.

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

XV.

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

XVI.

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

XVII.

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

XVIII.

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

XIX.

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

XX.

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

XXI.

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

XXII.

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

XXIII.

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

XXIV.

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

XXV.

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

XXVI.

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

XXVII.

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

XXVIII.

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

XXIX.

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

XXX.

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

XXXI.

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

XXXII.

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

XXXIII.

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

XXXIV.

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

XXXV.

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

XXXVI.

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

XXXVII.

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

XXXVIII.

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

XXXIX.

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

XL.

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

XLI.

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

XLII.

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

XLIII.

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

XLIV.

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

XLV.

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

XLVI.

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

XLVII.

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

XLVIII.

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

XLIX.

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

L.

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

LI.

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

LII.

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

LIII.

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

LIV.

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

LV.

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

LVI.

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

LVII.

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

LVIII.

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

LIX.

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

LX.

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

LXI.

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

LXII.

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

LXIII.

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

LXIV.

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

LXV.

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

LXVI.

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

LXVII.

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

LXVIII.

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

LXIX.

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

LXX.

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

LXXI.

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

LXXII.

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

LXXIII.

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

LXXIV.

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

LXXV.

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

LXXVI.

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

LXXVII.

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

LXXVIII.

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

LXXIX.

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

LXXX.

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

LXXXI.

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

NOTES TO CANTO I.

In the same strain of Roland will I tell .

Stanza ii. line 1.

I have used the name by which he is best known in French and English legends. He is called Orlando by Ariosto, and Rotolando by some of the more ancient romancers. His name and signature are said to have been seen in certain charters of Charlemagne. In the Latin Chronicles of the middle ages he is called Rutlandus and Ruitlandus.

Good seed of Hercules give ear and deign .

Stanza iii. line 1.

The Cardinal Ippolito of Este, son of Hercules of Este, Duke of Ferrara.

Record the good Rogero, valiant peer .

Stanza iv. line 3.

This Rogero, Ruggiero in the original, is supposed to be Rizieri of Risa, whose name is changed according to the customary transmutation of Venetian letters into their Tuscan equivalents, as z into g . He, however, is said to have flourished before the time of Charlemagne, and to have died childless. His pedigree is given more at large in the Innamorato . (See the Innamorato , book ii.) The supposed descent of the family of Este from Rizieri, and their pretensions to be of the blood of Charlemagne, for Bradamant was the niece of that emperor, made Ariosto adopt Rogero as the real hero of his poem.

Roland, who long the lady of Catay .

Stanza v. line 1.

Angelica, daughter of Galaphron, king of Cathay, the capital of which was Albracca.

For bold Orlando and hit cousin free , Rinaldo .

Stanza viii. line 1.

Rinaldo, cousin to Orlando, is known by different names, as Renaud and Arnaud. He was eldest son of Amone, in Italian, Aymon, in French, of Monte Albano, or Mont Auban.

Than half-clothed churl to win the cloth of red .

Stanza xi. line 4.

In the foot-race. Dante uses the same comparison hi his Inferno, canto xv.

Poi si rivolse e parve di coloro

Che corrono à Verona ’l drappo verde

Per la campagna; e parve di costoro

Quegli che vinces e non colui che perde.

With that he turned, and seemed as one of those

Who race upon Verona’s spacious plain

For the green cloth; nor seemed of them who lose,

But he who the disputed prize will gain.

But not from cruel snake more swiftly flies .

Stanza xi. line 5.

Imitated from Virgil's

Improvisum aspris veluti qui sentibus anguem

Pressit humi nitens, trepidumque repente refugit,

Attollentem iras, et cærula colla tumentem.

Here stood the fierce Ferrau in grisly plight .

Stanza xiv. line 1.

He was also called Ferraute and Ferracuto. He is said to have been slain by Orlando, who wounded him in the navel, the only vulnerable part about him. The story is continued from the Innamorato.

The brother of Angelica. That knight, &c .

Stanza xxvii. line 2.

This too is the continuation of an old story, for which see the Innamorato. Argalia was brother to Angelica.

From Aspramont, where bold Almontes paid .

Stanza xxx. line 7.

Almonte in the text, called by others Aimonte. For the rest; these stories, though “half told,” develope themselves in the course of the poem.

“ The virgin hat her image in the rose .”

Stanza xlii. line 1.

Translated, and with little variation, from Catullus’s beautiful comparison, in his epithalamium on Manlius and Julia.

Ut flos in septis secretus nascitur hortis,

Ignotus pecori, nullo contusus aratro;

Quem mulcent auræ, firmat sol, educat imber

Multi ilium pueri, multæ optavêre puellæ:

Idem quum tenui carptus defloruit ungui,

Nulli ilium pueri, nullæ optavêre puellæ.

Sic virgo, dum intacta manet, dum cara suis est;

Quum castum amisit polluto corpore florem,

Nec pueris jucunda manet, nec cara puellis.

It was fair Circassia’s king .

Stanza xlv. line 3.

Sacripant, who is one of Boiardo’s dramatis personæ , figures more especially in the warfare,

“When Agrican, with all his northern powers, Besieged Albracca, as romances tell, The city of Galaphron; from thence to win The fairest of her sex, Angelica, His daughter, sought by many prowest knights, Both paynim and the peers of Charlemagne.”

Par. Regained .

“ To woman, (this my own experience, shows), “ No deed more sweet or welcome can be done .

Stanza lviii. lines 3 and 4.

Vim licet appelles, grata est vis illa puellis; Quod juvat, invitæ sæpe dedisse volunt.

Ovid .

And sees the distant pine without its crown .

Stanza lxv. line 5.

An Italian commentator writes more than a page to prove that Ariosto must have meant il pino grandissimo , that is, the stone-pine, or pinus pinea of Linnæus, with a top like an umbrella; but has omitted the best reason for supposing so; to wit , that it is the only pine common in Italy.

“ ’ Twas Bradamant .

Stanza lxx. line 3.

Bradamant is also a character in the Innamorato , and her story, which forms one of the prettiest episodes in the work, is afterwards taken up where it was dropt by Boiardo.

Is, sure, Bayardo .

Stanza lxxiii. line 3.

Bayardo, the famous steed of Rinaldo, is said to have been found by Malagigi, the wizard knight, and cousin to Rinaldo, in a grotto, together with a suit of arms and the sword Fusberta, under the watch of a dragon, whom he charmed. Having obtained the prize, he bestowed it upon Rinaldo.

Albracca, where her hands prepared his food .

Stanza lxxv. line 6.

Angelica, then in love with Rinaldo, through the influence of the Fountain of Love, and into whose hands Bayardo fell at Albracca, took care of him, and afterwards returned him to his master, who was among her enemies, he being then under the influence of the Fountain of Hate, as is seen in the text.

One source of love and one of burning hate .

The idea of these two fountains is perhaps taken from Claudian’s picture of the gardens of Venus:

Labuntur gemini fontes: hic dulcis; amarus

Alter, et infusis corrumpit mella venenis;

Unde Cupidineas armavit Fama sagittas.

Two fountains glitter to the solar beam;

This spouts a sweet, and that a bitter stream;

Where Cupid dips his darts, as poets dream.

The idea of miraculous fountains, originating probably in the physical effects of some waters, (since a small substratum of truth is sufficient foundation for a lie), seems to have been a favourite classical fiction, as exemplified in the two springs in Bœotia, of which one was supposed to increase, and the other to take away, the memory. The belief in these was rife during the middle ages, and indeed extended to a later period; as we find the early discoverers reported, among other wonders, a fountain of youth.

It is possible, moreover, that with the idea of Claudian’s two fountains may have been mixed up that of Cupid’s two arrows, one of lead and the other of gold; of which the golden one was supposed to instil love, and the leaden hate.

Errata

Layout 2

THE ORLANDO FURIOSO.

CANTO II.

ARGUMENT.

A hermit parts, by means of hollow sprite,

The two redoubted rivals’ dangerous play;

Rinaldo goes where Love and Hope invite,

But is dispatched by Charles another way:

Bradamant, seeking her devoted knight,

The good Rogero, nigh becomes the prey

Of Pinabel, who drops the damsel brave

Into the dungeon of a living grave.

THE ORLANDO FURIOSO.

CANTO II.

I.

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

II.

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

III.

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

IV.

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

V.

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

VI.

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

VII.

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

VIII.

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

IX.

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

X.

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

XI.

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

XII.

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

XIII.

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

XIV.

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

XV.

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

XVI.

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

XVII.

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

XVIII.

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

XIX.

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

XX.

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

XXI.

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

XXII.

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

XXIII.

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

XXIV.

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

XXV.

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

XXVI.

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

XXVII.

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

XXVIII.

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

XXIX.

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

XXX.

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

XXXI.

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

XXXII.

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

XXXIII.

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

XXXIV.

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