XL.

“If from the youth Astolpho wished to know “From whence this sudden light of comfort came, “No less Jocundo this desired to show, “And to the king such injury proclaim: “But willed that like himself he should forego “Revenge upon the author of that shame: “Hence, that he might discern her guilt, yet spare, “He made him on the Agnus Dei swear .

XLI.

“He made him swear that he, for nothing said, “Or seen, which might to him displeasing be, “(Though he, in what he should discover, read “An outrage offered to his majesty,) “Would, now or ever, venge him on this head: “Moreover him he bound to secrecy; “That the ill doer ne’er, through deed or word, “Might guess his injured king that case had heard.

XLII.

“The monarch, who to every thing beside “Could better have given credit, freely swore: “To him the cause Jocundo signified, “Why he had many days lamented sore; —‘Because he had his evil wife espied ‘In the embraces of a Serjeant poor ; ‘And vowed he should in fine have died of grief, ‘If he for longer time had lacked relief.

XLIII.

‘But that within his highness’ palace,’ said, ‘He had witnessed what had much appeased his woe; ‘For, if foul shame had fallen upon his head, ‘At least he was not single;’ “saying so, “He to that chink the Lombard monarch led, “Who spied the mannikin of hideous show. “ . . . . . . . “ . . . . . . .

XLIV.

“You may believe he shameless deemed that act, “Without my swearing it; he, at the sight, “It seemed, would go distraught,—with fury racked, “He against every wall his head would smite— “Would cry aloud—would break the solemn pact, “Yet kept parforce the promise he had plight; “And gulped his anger down and bitter scorn; “Since on the holy wafer he had sworn.

XLV.

“Then to Jocundo; ‘What remains to me ‘To do in this misfortune, brother, speak; ‘Since vengeance with some noted cruelty ‘Thou wilt not let me on the sinners wreak.’ “(Jocundo answered) ‘Let these ingrates be; ‘And try we if all women are as weak; ‘And if the wives of others can be won ‘To do what others by our own have done.

XLVI.

‘Both fair and youthful, measured by this scale, ‘Not easily our equals shall we find; ‘What woman but to us shall strike her sail, ‘If even to the ugly these are kind? ‘At least, if neither youth nor grace avail, ‘The money may, with which our bags are lined; ‘Nor will I that we homeward more return, ‘Ere the chief spoils we from a thousand earn.

XLVII.

‘Long absence, seeing many a distant part, ‘Converse with different women, oft allay, ‘As it would seem, the troubles of a heart, ‘Whereof Love’s angry passions make their prey.’ “The king is pleased to hear the youth impart “This counsel, nor his journey will delay: “Thence on their road, with but two squires beside, “He and the Roman knight together ride.

XLVIII.

“Disguised they go through France and Italy, “They Flanders next and England scower, and where “A woman they of lovely visage spy, “Aye find the dame compliant with their prayer. “They upon some bestow what others buy, “And oft replaced their squandered treasures are. “Our travellers to the wives of many sued, “And by as many other dames were wooed.

XLIX.

“By solid proof those comrades ascertain, “ Here tarrying for a month, and there for two, “That their own wives are of no other vein “Than those of others, and as chaste and true. “After some season, wearied are the twain “With ever running after something new: “For, without risk of death, thus evermore “The intruders ill could enter other’s door.

L.

‘—’Twere best to find a girl whose natural bent ‘And face to both of us should pleasing be; ‘A girl, that us in common might content, ‘Nor we in her find cause for jealousy; ‘And wherefore wouldst thou that I should lament ‘More than with other, to go halves with thee?’ (Exclaimed Astolpho) ‘well I know is none, ‘Of all the female sex, content with one.

LI.

‘One damsel that in nought shall us constrain, ‘—Then only, when disposed to please the fair— ‘Will we in peace and pleasure entertain, ‘Nor we, about her, have dispute or care. ‘Nor, deem I, she with reason could complain: ‘For if two fell to every other’s share, ‘Better than one might she keep faith with two; ‘Nor haply we such frequent discord view.’

LII.

“Much seems the king’s proposal to content “The Roman youth; and thus it is, the twain, “To execute Astolpho’s project bent, “Journey by many a hill and many a plain; “And find at last, well fitting their intent, “The daughter of a publican of Spain, “Of presence and of manners framed to win; “Whose father at Valencia kept his inn.

LIII.

“As yet, upon the bloom of spring, the maid “Was a fresh flower that scarce began to blow: “Her sire with many children was o’erlaid, “And was to poverty a mortal foe. “Hence ’tis an easy matter to persuade “Mine host his buxom daughter to forego, “And let them, where they will the damsel bear; “In that to treat her well the travellers swear.

LIV.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . “They to Zattiva come upon the day “That from Valencia they had bent their way.

LV.

“The travellers from their inn to street and square “And places, public and divine, resort; “Who, wheresoever they had made repair, “Themselves were so accustomed to disport, “The girl is with the valets left in care, “Who make the beds, and wearied hackneys sort: “While others in the hostel-kitchen dight “The meal against their lords’ return at night.

LVI.

“As groom, a stripling in the hostel plied, “Who in the other landlord’s house had been: “He, from her childhood at the damsel’s side, “Had joyed her love: they, without change of mien, “On meeting, closely one another eyed, “Since either apprehended to be seen: “But when alone—now left together—raised “Their eyelids and on one another gazed.

LVII.

“The stripling asked her, ‘whitherward they sped, ‘And of the two which claimed her as his right;’ “This, point by point, to him Flammetta read; “Flammetta she, the Greek that boy was hight. ‘—When I had hoped the time was coming,’ said “The Greek—‘that I should live with thee, my light, ‘Flammetta, thou, alas! art lost to me, ‘Nor know I if I more thy face shall see.

LVIII.

‘I to the bitter dregs the cup must drain ‘Of promised sweets; since thou art others’ prey. ‘ ’Twas my design, having with mickle pain ‘And labour sore, some money put away, ‘Which I had hoarded out of frequent gain ‘From parting guests, and from my yearly pay, ‘To seek again Valencia, and demand ‘Thee from thy sire in lawful wedlock’s band.’

LIX.

“The damsel shrugs her shoulders, and complains; “And—‘that he is too late’—is her reply. “The Greek laments and sobs, and partly feigns: ‘—Wilt thou (he answered her) thus let me die? ‘Let me, at least, exhale my amorous pains! ‘Let me, but once, in thine embraces lie! ‘For every moment in thy presence spent, ‘Ere thou depart, will make me die content.’

LX.

“To him the damsel, full of pity, cries; ‘Believe, I covet this no less than thee; ‘But here, surrounded by so many eyes, ‘Is neither time nor opportunity.’ ‘—I feel assured’ (to her that youth replies) ‘Were I beloved by you, as you by me, ‘This very night you would find out a place ‘Wherein to solace us some little space.’

LXI.

“She bade him come—when she awhile had thought— “When he believed that all asleep were laid; “And how by him her chamber should be sought, “And how he should return, at full, displaid. “The cautious stripling did as he was taught, “And, when he found all silent, thither made: “He pushed, till it gave way, the chamber-door, “And, upon tiptoes, softly paced the floor.

LXII.

LXIII.

LXIV.

LXV.

LXVI.

LXVII.

LXVIII.

LXIX.

LXX.

LXXI.

Gazing on one another, with surprise, “The monarch and Jocundo are confused; “Nor even to have heard a case surmise “Of two, that ever thus had been abused: “Then laughed so, that they sate with winking eyes, “And open mouth, and lungs which breath refused; “And, wearied with the mirth her tale had bred, “Fell backwards, both, exhausted on the bed.

LXXII.

“When they had laughed so loud a laugh, the dew “Stood in their eyes, and each with aching breast “Remained, the pair exclaimed: ‘What shall we do ‘In order not to be a woman’s jest? ‘Since we, with all our heed, between us two, ‘Could not preserve the one by us possest, ‘A husband, furnished with more eyes than hair, ‘Parforce must be betrayed with all his care.

LXXIII.

‘A thousand, beauteous all, have we found kind, ‘Nor one of those so many has stood fast. ‘If tried, all women we by proof should find ‘Like these; but be the experiment our last. ‘Then we may deem our own not worse inclined ‘Than are the wives of others, and as chaste: ‘And, if like others we our own discern, ‘I hold it best that we to them return.’

LXXIV.

“When they have come to this resolve, they, through “Flammetta, call the youth into their bower; “And with the girl her leman, in the view “Of many, gift, and add a fitting dower. “They mount, and to the east their way pursue, “Accustomed westward hitherto to scower; “To their deserted wives again repair, “Nor of their after deeds take farther care.”

LXXV.

Here paused mine host; to whom on every side His audience had with careful heed attended. Rodomont listened, nor a word replied, Until the landlord’s story was suspended. Then—“Fully I believe,” that paynim cried, “The tale of women’s frauds would ne’er be ended; “Nor could that man in any volume note “The thousandth part, who would their treasons quote.”

LXXVI.

Of sounder judgement, ’mid that company, There was an elder, one more wise and bold; That undefended so the sex to see, Was inly wroth, and could no longer hold: To the relater of that history He turned; and, “Many things we have been told” (Exclaimed that ancient) “wherein truth is none, “And of such matters is thy fable one.

LXXVII.

“Him I believe not, that told this to you, “Though in all else he gospel-truths exprest; “As less by his experience, than untrue “Conceit respecting women prepossest. “The malice which he bears to one or two, “Makes him unjustly hate and blame the rest. “But you shall hear him, if his wrath o’erblow, “Yet greater praise than blame on these bestow.

LXXVIII.

“And he a larger field for speaking well “Will find, than blaming womankind withal; “And of a hundred worthy fame may tell, “For one whose evil deeds for censure call. “He should exalt the many that excel, “Culled from the multitude, not rail at all. “If otherwise your friend Valerio said, “He was by wrath, and not by reason, led.

LXXIX.

LXXX.

LXXXI.

LXXXII.

LXXXIII.

LXXXIV.

So reasoning, that just elder and sincere, With ready instances, supports his creed; Showing there many women are who ne’er Sinned against chastity, in word or deed: But him with impious visage and severe The paynim scared, ill pleased the truth to read. So that, through fear, he further speech forbore, But changed not therefore aught his former lore.

LXXXV.

Having stopt further question in this wise, The paynim monarch from the table rose: Then lays him on his bed, till from the skies The dusky shades depart, and morning glows: But spends a larger part of night in sighs At his liege-lady’s sin, than in repose. Rodomont thence departs at dawn of day, Resolved by water to pursue his way.

LXXXVI.

For with such care for his good horse’s plight, As is becoming a good cavalier, The courser fair and good, made his in spite Of young Rogero and Circassia’s peer; Seeing he, for two days, that horse’s might Had taxed too hardly in his long career, —As well he for his ease embarked the steed, As to pursue his way with better speed.

LXXXVII.

He straight makes launch the vessel from the marge, And bids put forth the oars from either side: Nor big nor deeply laden, she, at large, Descends the Sôane, transported by the tide. Care never quits him, though the shifting barge The king ascend, or nimble horse bestride: This he encounters aye on prow or poop, And bears behind him on his courser’s croup ;

LXXXVIII.

Rather within his head or heart always Care sits; whence every comfort is o’erthrown: No remedy the wretched man surveys, In that his enemies are in the town. From others hope is none; since they who raise This fearful war against him, are his own: Vext by that cruel one, aye night and day, Whom he might hope to find his natural stay.

LXXXIX.

Rodomont navigates the day and night Ensuing, aye by heavy thoughts opprest; Nor can he ever banish the despite, Suffered from King and Lady, from his breast. The self-same grief sate heavy on his sprite Aboard the bark, as when his steed he prest. Such fire was not by water to be drowned, Nor he his nature changed by changing ground .

XC.

As the sick man who with a fever glows, And, weak and weary, shifts his place in vain, Whether he right or left himself bestows, And hopes in turning some relief to gain, Finds neither on this side nor that repose, But everywhere encounters equal pain; The pagan monarch so found small relief, By land or water, for his secret grief.

XCI.

Rodomont brooked no more aboard to stay, But bade them land him, and by Lyons hied; By Vienne and Valence next took his way, And the rich bridge in Avignon descried. For these and more, which ’twixt the river lay And Celtiberian hills upon that side, (Theirs, from the day they conquered the champaigne) Obeyed the kings of Afric and of Spain.

XCII.

To pass to Afric straight, the cavalier Kept to the right, towards Acquamorta’s shore, And lighted on a stream and hamlet, dear To Ceres and to Bacchus, which that Moor Found quitted by the peasants, in their fear, As often by the soldier harried sore. The beech upon one side broad ocean laved, And on the other yellow harvests waved.

XCIII.

Here, newly built upon a hillock’s crest, A little church the Saracen espied; Abandoned by its priesthood, like the rest, For war was flaming upon every side. Rodomont of this place himself possest; Which, from its site, as well as lying wide Of fields, from whence he tidings loathed to hear, So pleased him, he for it renounced Argièr.

XCIV.

He changed his scheme of seeking Afric’s land, (So this fair spot seemed fit for his behoof!) And here housed carriages, and steed, and band, Together with himself, beneath one roof. At few leagues’ distance, did Montpelier stand, And other wealthy towns, not far aloof. The village was upon a river’s side, So that its every need might be supplied.

XCV.

Here standing, full of thought, upon a day, (Such was his common wont) the paynim spied, Advancing by a narrow path, which lay Through a green meadow, from the adverse side, A lovely damsel, that upon her way Was by a bearded monk accompanied; And these behind them led a lusty steed, Who bore a burden, trapt with sable weed.

XCVI.

Who that attendant monk and damsel were, And what that burden, will to you be clear, Remembering Isabella in the fair, Charged with the corse of her Zerbino dear: I left her, where from Provence, in the care Of that good sire, she bowned herself to steer, By whom persuaded, had the lady given The remnant of her virtuous life to heaven.

XCVII.

Although in her pale face and troubled guise, The sorrow of that dame is manifest, Although two fountains are her streaming eyes, And sobs aye issue from her burning breast, And more beside of suffering testifies, With what a load of grief she is opprest, Yet, in her faded cheek such beauties meet, Love and the Graces there might fix their seat.

XCVIII.

As soon as he of Sarza saw appear The beauteous dame, he laid the thought aside Of hatred to that gentle race and dear, By whom alone the world is glorified; And best by Isabel the cavalier Believed his former love would be supplied, And one love by another be effaced, As bolt by bolt in timber is displaced.

XCIX.

Her with the kindest mien and mildest tone That he could fashion, met the Sarzan knight; To whom the dame her every thought made known; And said, when she was questioned of her plight, ‘She would with holy works—this world forgone— ‘Seek favour in her Heavenly Father’s sight.’ Loud laughed that godless paynim at the thought, Who every faith and worship held at nought;

C.

And said, ‘that she from reason wandered wide, ‘And termed her project sudden and unsound; ‘Nor deemed her less to blame than those who hide, ‘Through greediness, their treasure under ground, ‘And keep it from the use of all beside, ‘Though hence no profit to themselves redound. ‘Rightly were prisoned lion, snake, and bear, ‘But ill whate’er is innocent and fair.’

CI.

The monk, that to this talk has lent an ear, Prompt with advice that mournful dame to stay, And lest she quit her course, prepared to steer His bark, like practised pilot, on her way, A sumptuous table, rich in spiritual cheer, Had speedily bestirred him to array; But, born with evil taste, that paynim rude No sooner tasted, than he loathed, the food.

CII.

And having interrupted him in vain, Nor having power to make him stint his lore, That paynim, stirred to fury, broke the rein Of patience, and assailed the preacher hoar. But haply wearisome might seem the strain, If I upon this theme dilated more: So here I close, nor words will idly spend, Admonished by that ancient’s evil end.

NOTES TO CANTO XXVIII.

All thought he had to Rome his steps addrest, Who to the town, surnamed of horns, had gone .

Stanza xxiv. lines 5 and 6.

Credeano che da lor si fosse tolto Per gire a Roma, e gito era a Corneto .

As an exact equivalent, we might say, if the scene were laid in England, that they thought he was gone to London, whereas he had gone to Hornsey .

He halts on Arbia’s and on Arno’s shore .

Stanza xxvii. line 6.

That is, at Sienna and Florence; Sienna being situated upon the Arbia, and Florence upon the Arno.

He of the Queen’s apartments here has sight, &c .

Stanza xxiv. line 1.

Ariosto seems to have got sight of the story which forms the prologue to the Arabian Nights.

He made him on the Agnus Dei swear .

Stanza xl. line 8.

Il re fece giurar su l’ Agnus Dei .

Not upon the figured representation of the lamb of God, as the reader might possibly suppose, but upon the host; as appears from a verse in a succeeding stanza.

Since on the holy wafer he had sworn .

Stanza xliv. line 8.

Poichè giurato avea su l’ ostia sacra;

the first expression of Agnus Dei having been probably suggested by the words used by the priest in the sacrament of the communion;

Ecce! Agnus dei qui tollit peccata mundi!

In the embraces of a serjeant poor .

Stanza xlii. line 6.

In braccio d’un suo vil sergente.

I have already observed that serjeant in its general signification formerly meant servant.

This he encounters aye on prow or poop, And bears behind him on his courser’s croup .

Stanza lxxxvii. lines 7 and 8.

Scandit æratas vitiosa naves Cura . . . . . . . . . . Post equitem sedet atra Cura.

Nor he his nature changed by changing ground .

Stanza lxxxix. line 8.

Cælum non animum mutant qui trans mare currunt .

Though this episode is distinguished by that felicity of expression and neatness of narration so peculiarly characteristic of Ariosto, I cannot think it deserving of all the encomiums which have been bestowed upon it. It is, as I conceive, deficient in that dramatic truth which is equally characteristic of his style, and is generally so well observed by him. What, for instance, can be more extravagant than the conception of the leading incident? We may almost say, that extreme hypocrisy and extreme debauchery are never found together; for there are always some dregs of truth, however muddy, at the bottom of hypocrisy. If this be true, the character of the wife is not in nature; but supposing her character to be in nature, how can we imagine that a husband, who was tied to her apron-string, should never have entertained the least suspicion of her perverse predilection? Is it not yet more extravagant to suppose that this abused husband, who had surprised her in flagranti delicto , and who was at first about to kill both her and her paramour, should be seized with such a sudden qualm of morbid sensibility as not even to disturb her slumbers?

The last act of extravagance in this little piece, the return of king and cavalier to the adulteresses, with whom they live very happy ever afterwards, is less out of nature, and is besides justified by its epigrammatic spirit.

On the coarseness and licentiousness which are occasionally found in the Furioso I have commented in another place.

Which ’twixt the river lay And Celtiberian hills, &c .

Stanza sci. lines 5 and 6.

Che son tra il fiume e ’l Celtibero monte.

The Rhone and the Arragouian hills.

Layout 2

THE ORLANDO FURIOSO.

CANTO XXIX.

ARGUMENT.

Isabel makes the paynim take her head,

Rather than he his wicked will should gain;

Who, having his unhappy error read,

Seeks to appease his wounded spirit in vain.

He builds a bridge, and strips those thither led;

But falls from it with Roland the insane;

Who thence, of him regardless, endlong speeds,

And by the road achieves prodigious deeds.

THE ORLANDO FURIOSO.

CANTO XXIX.

I.

O feeble and unstable minds of men! How quickly our intentions fluctuate! All thoughts we lightly change, but mostly when These from some lover’s quarrel take their date. But now, so wroth I saw that Saracen With woman, so outrageous in his hate, I weened not only he would ill assuage, But never more would calm, his amorous rage.

II.

That which he rashly uttered to your blame, Ye gentle dames, docs so my spirit grieve, Till I his error teach him, to his shame, He shall no quarter at my hands receive: So him with pen and page will I proclaim, That, whosoever reads me, shall believe He had better held—aye, better bit, his tongue, Than ever have your sex with slander stung.

III.

But that in this the witless infidel Spake as a fool, the event demonstrates clear: Even now, with dagger drawn, that paynim fell In fury on all women whomsoe’er. Next him so touched one look of Isabel, She quickly made his fickle purpose veer; For her, scarce seen, and to that warrior strange, He would his Doralice already change;

IV.

And, as new love the king did heat and goad, He moved some arguments of small avail, To shake her stedfast spirit, which abode Wholly with God; but he, her shield and mail, That hermit, lest she from the better road Should wander, and her chaste intention fail, With stronger arguments with him contended, And still, as best he could, the dame defended.

V.

The king, who long had taxed himself to bear The monk’s bold sermon to his sore displeasure, And vainly bade him to his cell repair Anew, without that damsel, at his leisure, Yet seeing he would still his patience dare, Nor peace with him would keep, nor any measure, Upon that preacher’s chin his right-hand laid, And whatsoe’er he grasped, as rudely flayed.

VI.

And (so his fury waxed) that, as it were With tongs, he griped his neck, and after he Had whirled him once or twice about in air, Dismist him from his hand towards the sea. I say not—know not, what befel him there: Many the rumours are, and disagree. One says, ‘he burst upon a rock’s rude bed, ‘And lay one shapeless jelly, heels and head.’

VII.

‘He fell into the sea,’ by one is said, ‘Distant three miles and more; and, in that sound, ‘He having prayer, and Ave vainly made, ‘Because he knew not how to swim, was drowned.’ Others report, ‘a Saint bestowed his aid, ‘And dragged him with a visible hand aground.’ Whichever be the reading of this mystery, Of him I speak no further in mine history.

VIII.

Cruel King Rodomont, when from his side He had removed the prating eremite, With visage less disturbed, again applied To that sad lady, heartless with affright; And, in the language used by lovers, cried, ‘She was his very heart, his life, his light, ‘She was his comfort and his dearest hope;’ With all such words as have that common scope,

IX.

And now, so temperate showed that infidel, ’Twould seem that he no violence designed, The gentle semblance of fair Isabel, Enamouring him, so tamed his haughty mind; And, though he might that goodly kernel shell, The paynim would not pass beyond the rhind, Who that its flavour would be lost, believed, Unless ’twere as a gift from her received;

X.

And by degrees so thought to mould the dame To his desires. She in that lone retreat And savage, open to his evil aim, And like a mouse, beneath Grimalkin’s feet, Had liefer found herself i’ the midst of flame; And ever on one thought her fancy beat; ‘If any mode, if any way, remained ‘To scape that wilful man, untouched, unstained.’

XI.

Sad Isabella in her mind is bent To slay herself with her own hand, before The fell barbarian compass his intent; And be the means to make her wrong so sore That cavalier, by cruel Fortune spent, Within her loving arms, to whom she swore With mind to him devoted, his to be, Vowing to Heaven perpetual chastity.

XII.

She sees that paynim monarch’s passion blind Increasing still, nor what to do she knows; Well knows what foul intention is behind, Which she is all too feeble to oppose: Yet moving many matters in her mind, Finds out at last a refuge for her woes, And means to save her chastity from shame, (How I shall say) with clear and lasting fame.

XIII.

She cried unto that paynim, foul to see, Already threatening her with word and act, And now devoid of all that courtesy, Which he in the beginning did enact, “If thou mine honour wilt ensure to me, “Beyond suspicion, I, upon, this pact, “Will upon thee bestow what shall o’erpay, “By much, that honour thou wouldst take away.

XIV.

“For pleasure, which endures so brief a space, “Wherewith this ample world does so o’errun, “Reject not lightly a perpetual grace, “A real joy, to be postponed to none. “Of women everywhere of pleasing face “A hundred and a thousand may be won; “But none beside me, or few others, live “Who can bestow the boon which I can give.

XV.

“I know, and on my way a herb did view, “And nearly know where I on this could light, “Which, being boiled with ivy and with rue, “Over a fire with wood of cypress dight, “And squeezed, when taken from the caldron, through “Innocent hands, affords a juice of might, “Wherewith whoever thrice his body laves, “Destructive steel or fire securely braves .

XVI.

“If thrice therewith he bathe himself, I say, “His flesh no weapon for a month shall score: “He once a month must to his body lay “Mine unction, for its virtue lasts not more: “This liquor can I make, and will to-day, “And thou to-day shalt also prove my lore: “And well, I trust, thou shalt more grateful be, “Than were all Europe won to-day by thee.

XVII.

“In guerdon for this present, I request “That thou to me upon thy faith wilt swear, “Thou never wilt my chastity molest “In word or deed.” So spake that damsel fair; And Rodomont who heard, again represt His evil will: for so he longed to bear A charmed life, that readily he more Than Isabel of him demanded swore;

XVIII.

And will maintain his promise, till the fact Vouched of that wondrous water shall appear; And force himself, meanwhile, to do no act, To show no sign of violence; but the peer Resolves he will not after keep the pact, As one who holds not God or saint in fear; And to that king, regardless of his oath, All lying Afric yields in breach of troth .

XIX.

Argier’s perfidious king to Isabel More than a thousand times assurance swore, In case that water rendered him what fell Achilles and what Cygnus were of yore. She, aye by beetling cliff and darksome dell, Away from city and from farm, a store Of herbs collected, nor this while was e’er Abandoned by the paynim cavalier.

XX.

When herbs enow by them in many a beat, With or without their roots, collected were , At a late hour, the twain to their retreat Betook them; and, throughout night’s remnant, there, That paragon of continence did heat What simples she had culled, with mickle care, While to those mysteries and her every deed The pagan, present still, gave curious heed;

XXI.

Who, wearing out the weary night in sport, —He and those followers that with him remained— Had suffered thirst in such a grievous sort, From the fierce fire in that small cave contained, That drinking round, in measure full or short, Of Græcian wine two barrels had they drained; A booty which those squires who served the Moor, From travellers seized a day or two before.

XXII.

To Argier’s warlike king, unused to wine, (Cursed, and forbidden by his law, esteemed) The liquor, tasted once, appeared divine, Sweeter than nectar or than manna seemed: He, quaffing largely, now of Ishmael’s line The sober use deserving censure deemed. So fast their cups with that good wine they fill, Each reveller’s head is whirling like a mill.

XXIII.

Meanwhile that lady from the fire does lift The pot, wherein she cooked those herbs, and cries To Rodomont; “In proof I not adrift “Have launched the words I spake, in random guise, “—By that , which can the truth from falsehood sift, “Experience, which can make the foolish wise , “Even now the thing shall to thyself be shown, “Not on another’s body, but my own.

XXIV.

“I first will trial make” (that lady said) “Of this choice liquor with rare virtue blest; “Lest haply thou shouldst harbour any dread “That mortal poison from these herbs be prest. “With this will I anoint myself, from head “Downwards below the naked neck and breast. “Then prove on me thy faulchion and thine arm, “And prove if one can smite, the other harm.”

XXV.

She washed, as said, and gladly did decline Her neck to that unthinking pagan’s brand; Unthinking, and perhaps o’ercome by wine, Which neither helm, nor mail, nor shield withstand. That brutish man believed her, and, in sign Of faith, so struck with cruel steel and hand, That her fair head, erewhile Love’s place of rest, He severed from the snowy neck and breast.

XXVI.

This made three bounds, and thence in accents clear Was heard a voice which spake Zerbino’s name , To follow whom, escaping Sarza’s peer, So rare a way was taken by the dame. Spirit! which nobly didst esteem more dear Thy plighted faith, and chaste and holy name, (Things hardly known, and foreign to our time,) Than thine own life and thine own blooming prime!

XXVII.

Depart in peace, O spirit blest and fair! —So had my verses power! as evermore I would assay, with all that happy care, Which so adorns and points poetic lore! And, as renowned should be thy story rare, Thousands and thousands of long years and more! —Depart in peace to radiant realms above, And leave to earth the example of thy love!

XXVIII.

His eyes from heaven did the Creator bend, At the stupendous and unequalled feat, And said; “I thee above that dame commend “Whose death drove Tarquin from his royal seat; “And I to register a law intend, “ ’Mid those which ages change not as they fleet, “Which—I attest the inviolable river— “Unchanged through future times, shall last for ever .

XXIX.

“I will that all, in every future age, “Who bear thy name, be blest with genius high; “Be courteous, gentle, beautiful, and sage, “And to the real pitch of honour fly. “That to their glory the historic page “They may with worthy argument supply; “So that for aye Parnassus’ hill and well “Shall ring with Isabel and Isabel.”

XXX.

So spake the Sire; and cleared the ambient air, And hushed beyond its wont the heaving main. To the third heaven her chaste soul made repair, And in Zerbino’s arms was locked again. On earth, with shame and sorrow for his share, That second Breuse sans pity did remain ; Who, when digested was the maddening bowl, Lamented sore his error, sad at soul.

XXXI.

That placated, or in some sort content, The sainted soul of Isabel might be; That, if to death that damsel he had shent, He might at least revive her memory, He, as a means to compass his intent, Would turn into a tomb that church, where he Inhabited, and where she buried lies; To you shall be related in what wise.

XXXII.

In all parts round about this chosen site, For love or fear, he master-masons found; And, making full six thousand men unite, Stript of their heavy stones the mountains round, And raised a fabric ninety yards in height, From its extremest summit to the ground; And he within its walls the church enclosed; Wherein entombed the lovers twain reposed.

XXXIII.

This nearly imitates that pile beside Old Tyber’s stream, by Adrian built ; and nigh The sepulchre, will he a tower provide, Wherein he purposes some time to lie. A narrow bridge, and only two yards wide, He flung across the stream which rolled fast by. Long, but so scanty is that bridge, with pain The narrow pass two coursers can contain;

XXXIV.

Two coursers, that abreast have thither made, Or else, encountering, on that causeway meet: Nor any where was ledge or barricade, To stay the horse’s fall, who lost his feet. He wills that bridge’s toll be dearly paid By Christian or by Moor, who pass his seat; For with a thousand trophies, arms, and vest, That damsel’s tomb is destined to be drest.

XXXV.

Within ten days, or shorter time, was placed The bridge, whose arch across the stream was dight; But not that pile and tower with equal haste Were so conducted to their destined height. Yet was the last so high, a sentry paced Its top, who, whensoever any knight Approached the bridge, was wont his lord to warn, Sounding a signal on his bugle-horn.

XXXVI.

Whereat he armed, and issued for the stower, Now upon one and now the other side: For when a warrior pricked towards the tower, Him from the adverse bank that king defied: The bridge affords the field their steeds must scour; And, should one but a little swerve aside, (Peril unparalleled!) the horse will go Into the deep and dangerous stream below.

XXXVII.

The pagan had imagined, as a pain, That, risking oft to tumble in the course, Head-first into that stream, where he must drain Huge draughts of water in his fall, parforce, He would assoil and cleanse him from that stain, Whereof excess in wine had been the source; As if what ill wine prompts to do or say, Water, as well as wine, could wash away.

XXXVIII.

Soon thitherward flocked many a cavalier; Some who pursued the beaten road and plain; Since for way-faring men, who southward steer, No straighter lay for Italy or Spain: Their courage and their honour, held more dear Than life, excited others of the train; And all, where they had hoped the meed of strife, Had lost their arms, and many arms and life.

XXIX.

If those he conquers are of pagan strain, He is content to take their arms and vest: And of those first arrived the titles plain Are written, and their arms suspended rest. But he in prison pens the christened train, (’Twould seem) to be to Argier’s realm addrest. Not yet was brought that building to a head When thitherward the crazed Orlando sped.

XL.

It chanced Orlando, in his furious mood, Came thither where that foaming river run ; Where Rodomont beside the mighty flood Was hurrying on his work; nor yet were done The tower and tomb, the bridge, scarce finished, stood: Here—save his casque was open—Ulien’s son Steeled cap-a-pee, stood ready armed for fight, When to the bridge approached Anglantes’ knight .

XLI.

Orlando running thus his wild career, The barrier tops, and o’er the bridge would fly, But sullen Rodomont, with troubled cheer, Afoot, as he that tower is standing nigh, For he disdains to brandish sword or spear, Shouts to him from afar with threatening cry, “Halt! thou intrusive churl and indiscreet, “Rash, meddling, saucy villain, stay thy feet!

XLII.

“Only for lord and cavalier was made, “And not for thee, dull slave, that bridge was meant.” To this no heed insane Orlando paid, But, fixt upon his purpose, forward went. “This madman must I school,” the paynim said, And was approaching with the fell intent Him into that deep river to dispatch, Not deeming in such foe to find his match.

XLIII.

This while, a gentle damsel sought the place That towards that bridge across the river tode, Richly arraid and beautiful of face, Who sage reserve in her demeanour showed. ’Tis she that, of her Brandimart in chase, (If you remember, sir,) through every road And place her lover seeks in anxious wise, Excepting Paris, where the warrior lies.

XLIV.

When Flordelice that bridge and tower was near, (So was by name the wandering damsel hight) Grappling with Roland stood the Sarzan peer, And would into that river pitch the knight. She, conversant with Brava’s cavalier, The miserable county knew aright; And mighty marvel in that dame it raised To see him rove, a naked man and crazed.

XLV.

She stopt, the issue of that strife to know, Wherein those two so puissant warriors vied. His opposite by might and main to throw, Into the stream each doughty champion tried. “How can a fool such mighty prowess show?” Between his teeth, the furious paynim cried. And, shifting here and there, was seen to strain. Brimful! of pride, and anger, and disdain.

XLVI.

This hand and now that other he puts out, To take new hold, where he his vantage spies; Now within Roland’s legs, and now without, Locks his right foot or left, in skilful wise; And thus resembles, in that wrestling bout, The stupid bear, who in his fury tries The tree, from whence he tumbled, to o’erthrow; Deeming it sole occasion of his woe.

XLVII.

Roland, whose better wit was lost withal, I know not where, and who used force alone; That utmost force, to which this earthly ball Haply affords few paragons, or none, Let himself backwards in that struggle fall, Embracing as he stood with Ulien’s son. Together in the foaming stream they sank; High Hashed the wave, and groaned the echoing bunk.

XLVIII.

Quickly the stream asunder bore the pair. Roland was naked, and like fish could swim, Here shot his feet, his arms extended there, And gained the bank; nor, when upon the brim, Halted to mark if his adventure were Achieved with praise or shame: in evil trim, The pagan, by his arms impeded sore, With heavier pain and trouble, toiled ashore.

XLIX.

Along the bridge which spanned that foaming tide Did Flordelice meantime securely pace, And, having vainly sought on every side Brandimant’s bearing, since nor iron case Nor vest of his she anywhere espied, She hoped to find the knight in other place. But here return we of the count to tell, Who left behind him stream, bridge, tower, and cell.

L.

’Twere phrensy of his every frantic feat To promise the relation, one by one; So many and many, should I these repeat, I know not when my story would be done. Yet some of his notorious deeds, and meet For mention in my song, will I make known: Nor will I not that wondrous one recount, Near Thoulouse, on the Pyrenæan Mount.

LI.

Much country had been traversed by the knight, Urged by the furious rage which him misguides: At last he reached the hill whose boundary height Arragonese and neighbouring Frank divides. Thither directing aye his course outright, Where the descending sun his visage hides, He reached a path upon the rugged steep, Which overhung a valley dark and deep.

LII.

Here he by chance encountered in mid road Two youths, that woodmen were, and drove before An ass along that pathway, with a load Of logs; they, marking well what scanty store Of brain in poor Orlando’s head was stowed, Called to the approaching knight, and threatened sore; Bidding him stand aside, or else go back, Nor to their hindrance block the common track.

LIII.

To this address Orlando answered nought, Save that his foot he to their beast applied, Smote in mid-breast, which, with that vigour fraught, —That force exceeding every force beside— Tost him so high, that the beholders thought It was a bird in air which they descried. The ass upon a mountain-summit fell, Which rose above a mile beyond that dell.

LIV.

Upon those youths next sprang the furious knight. With better luck than wit, one woodman shear From that tall cliff, twice thirty yards in height, Cast himself headlong downward in his fear: Him a moist patch of brambles, in his flight, Received; and, amid grass and bushes, here, From other mischief safe, the stripling lit, And for some scratches in his face was quit.

LV.

That other to a jutting fragment clung, Who so to gain the higher steep would strive; Because he hopes, if once those crags among, To keep him from that fool he may contrive; But by the feet Orlando, ere he sprung, Seized him, who will not leave the wretch alive; And stretching them as wide as he could strain, So stretched his arms, he rent his prey in twain.

LVI.

Even in such mode as often we descry Falconer by heron or by pullet do; Whose entrails he plucks out, to satisfy Merlin or falcon that the game pursue. How happy was that other not to die! Who risqued his neck in that deep bottom, who Rehearsed the tale so often, Turpin heard, And handed down to us the wondrous word.

LVII.

These and more marvels does the count, who bends His steps across that mountain to the plain; And, seeking long a path, at length descends Towards the south, upon the land of Spain. His way along the beach he after wends, Near Arragon, beside the tumbling main, And, ever prompted by his phrensy rank, Will make himself a dwelling on the bank,

LVIII.

Where he somedeal may shun the noontide ray, With dry and powdery sea-sand covered o’er; And here, while so employed, upon their way Arrives Angelica with her Medore, Who, as you have been told in former lay, Had from the hills descended on that shore. Within a yard or less approached the fair, Ere yet she of his presence was aware.

LIX.

So different from himself was he to sight, Nought of Orlando she in him surveyed: For, from the time that rage possest his sprite, He had gone naked forth in sun and shade. Had he been born on hot Syene’s site, Or sands where worship is to Ammon paid, Or nigh those hills, whence Nile’s full waters spin, Orlando had not borne a dingier skin.

LX.

Nigh buried in their sockets are his eyes, Spare in his visage, and as dry as bone: Dishevelled is his hair in woeful wise, With frightful beard his cheek is overgrown: No sooner is he seen, than backward flies Angelica, who, trembling sore, is flown: She shrieking loud, all trembling and dismaid, Betakes her to her youthful guide for aid.

LXI.

When crazed Orlando was of her aware, To seize the damsel he upsprang in haste; So pleased the wretched count her visage fair, So quickly was his mood inflamed: effaced In him all ancient recollections are, How she by him was whilom served and graced. Behind her speeds the count and hunts that dame, As questing dog pursues the sylvan game.

LXII.

The youth, that sees him chase his love who fled, His courser spurs, and in pursuit is gone. With naked faulchion after him he sped, And cut and thrust at Roland as he run. He from his shoulders hoped to cleave his head, But found the madman’s skin as hard as bone; Yea, harder far than steel, nor to be harmed; So good Orlando at his birth was charmed.

LXIII.

When on his back Orlando felt him beat, He turned, and turning on his youthful foe, Smote with clenched fist, and force which nought can meet, —Smote on his horse’s head, a fearful blow; And, with skull smashed like glass, that courser fleet Was by the madman’s furious stroke laid low. In the same breath Orlando turned anew, And chased the damsel that before him flew.

LXIV.

At speed Angelica impelled her mare, And whipt and spurred her evermore; whom slow She would esteem, albeit that palfrey were Yet faster than a shaft dismist from bow: Her ring she thought upon, and this the fair Placed in her mouth; nor failed its virtue now; For putting it between her lips, like light Extinguished by a puff, she past from sight.

LXV.

Was it through fear, or was she, while she stript This from her finger, shaken in her seat; Or was it rather, that her palfrey tript, (For neither this nor that I surely weet) Angelica, while ’twixt her lips she slipt The virtuous ring, and hid her visage sweet, Her stirrups lost; and, tumbling from the sell, Reversed upon the sand that lady fell.

LXVI.

If but two inches short had fallen his prey, Upon her would have pounced Orlando near; Who would have crushed her in his furious way, But that kind Fortune saved her from the peer. Let her by other theft herself purvey With other palfrey, as she did whilere; For never will she have this courser more, Who chased by swift Orlando scours the shore.

LXVII.

Doubt not that she another will provide; And follow we in mad Orlando’s rear; Whose rage and fury nevermore subside, Wroth that Angelica should disappear: After that beast along the sands he hied, Aye gaining on the mare in this career. Now, now he touches her, and lo! the mane He grasps, and now secures her by the rein.

LXVIII.

Orlando seizes her with that delight That other man might seize a damsel fair; The bit and bridle he adjusts aright, Springs on her back, and o’er that sea-beach bare For many miles impels the palfrey’s flight, Without repose or pause, now here, now there: Nor ever sell or bridle be displaced, Nor let her grass or heartening forage taste.

LXIX.

As in this course to o’erleap a ditch he sought, Head over heels, she with her rider went: Nor harmed was he, nor felt that tumble aught; But she, with shoulder slipt, lay foully shent. Long how to bear her thence Orlando thought, And in the end upon his shoulders hent. He from the bottom climbed, thus loaded sore, And carried her three bow-shots’ length and more.

LXX.

Next, for he felt that weight too irksome grow, He put her down, to lead her by the rein; Who followed him with limping gait and slow. “Come on,” Orlando cried, and cried in vain; And, could the palfrey at a gallop go, This ill would satisfy his mood insane. The halter from her head he last unloosed, Wherewith her hind off-foot the madman noosed.

LXXI.

’Tis thus he comforts and drags on that mare, That she may follow with more ease, so led; Who whiles despoiled of flesh, and whiles of hair, Is scathed by stones which that ill road o’erspread. At length the misused beast, with wear and tear Of the rude rocks, and suffering sore, lies dead. Orlando nought the slaughtered mare regards, Nor anywise his headlong course retards.

LXXII.

To drag that palfrey ceased he not, though dead, Continuing still his course towards the west, And all this while sacked hamlet, farm, and stead, Whenever he by hunger was distrest; And aye to glut himself with meat, and bread, And fruit, he every one by force opprest. One by his hand was slain, one foully shent; Seldom he stopt, and ever onward went.

LXXIII.

As much, or little less, would do the knight By his own love, did not that damsel hide; Because the wretch discerns not black from white, And harms where he would help. A curse betide The wonder-working ring, and eke the wight Who gave it to that lady, full of pride! Since Roland, but for this, would venge the scorn He and a thousand more from her had borne.

LXXIV.

Would that of her Orlando were possest, And of all women that are above ground! For one and all are ingrates at the best, Nor is in all an ounce of goodness found. But it is meet I let my hearer rest Ere my strained chords return a faltering sound, And that he may less tedious deem the rhyme, Defer my story till another time.

Errata

NOTES TO CANTO XXIX.

Wherewith whoever thrice his body laves, Destructive steel or fire securely braves .

Stanza xv. lines 7 and 8.

That there are some preparations which for a time secure the skin from fire there is no doubt, and we cannot much wonder it should have been believed in a more ignorant age, that what preserved from one danger would preserve from another. In Constantinople, where things have remained (as has been before said) much in the same state as they were in Christendom down to the fifteenth century, a frequent exhibition takes place of dervishes who handle red hot irons with impunity; and every now and then we have some chance performer upon the same strange instruments at home.

In these performances there may be some trick, as in the apparent swallowing of molten lead, which is probably some other composite metal capable of fusion by an inferior degree of heat, a thing which is sometimes witnessed in the partial dissolution of an ale-house tea-spoon in a hot cup of tea: but making every reasonable allowance for deception, no one can doubt the main fact, who has witnessed these performances, which certainly offer a reasonable ground for believing that all the strange tricks of natural magic which we read of in works of the middle ages were not such mere hocus pocus as our modern natural philosophers would persuade us; and the thing on which I have been commenting may show how oddly secrets maybe preserved among the ignorant, which elude all the researches of the educated. For I never knew of any one of these having discovered the arcanum in question; and the only trial of this kind which I ever heard of, and which was made upon his scholars by a Venetian schoolmaster (yet alive), was not of a nature to encourage future experiments. There are, however, (I am told) receipts for preservatives from fire, given in Baptista Porta’s Magia Naturalis , of which there is (I believe) an old English version; but I have never seen either the translation or the original.

All lying Afric, &c .

Stanza xviii. line 8.

Punica Fides .

When herbs enow by them in many a beat, With or without their roots, collected were .

Stanza xx. lines 1 and 2.

An Italian commentator attacks Ariosto for having first stated that one nameless herb, boiled with rue and ivy, was sufficient for Isabella’s purpose, and then for making her collect many others for this magic bath. As in a former case, I should not have thought the criticism worth notice, if the circumstance did not illustrate a fact in the history of manners, or rather of art. In the earlier ages of Europe, all composers of medicine dealt largely in compound drugs, and never used that on which they most relied without other auxiliary ingredients. The great improvers of medicine were inclined to treat this complication of remedies as an imposture. But better experience seems to prove that our ancestors were right in the principle, however inefficient or erroneous may have been their practice. For it is now well ascertained that the happy union of drugs is one of the most useful points of medicine; and that even preparations of the same ingredient which offend when taken separately, will sometimes produce a beneficial effect when administered in combination.

Experience, which can make the foolish wise .

Stanza xxiii. line 6.

“Experientia stultorum magistra.”

Which wither helm, nor mail, nor shield withstand .

Stanza xxv. line 4.

In the original,

Incontro a cui non vale elmo ne scudo.

Petrarch says, with another application,

Contro le quai non vale elmo ne scudo.

This made three bounds, and thence in accents clear Was heard a voice which spake Zerbino’s name, &c .

Stanza xxvi. lines 1 and 2.

Ariosto’s best excuse for such an extravagance is, I believe, Homer’s example in the death of Dolon; and for Homer it may be said, that it is perhaps the only departure from physical truth in his admirable poems.

Which—I attest the inviolable river— Unchanged through future times, shall last for ever .

Stanza xxviii. lines 7 and 8.

The English reader can only find some palliation for this passage in the spirit of Ariosto's age and country. As a specimen indeed of the different feeling with which his countrymen have contemplated it, it is enough to translate literally the note of one who has furnished many observations upon the Furioso , not worse than those of other critics. “The poet” (says he) “uses the oath which the Gentiles put into the mouths of their Gods, in making them swear by the waters of Styx; an oath, which was held by them as inviolable. Ariosto poetically puts this into the mouth of the true God, to show the unalterable firmness of his purpose!”

Putting aside these indefensible scandals, it is to be observed that Ariosto too often loses himself when he touches the dangerous chord of compliment; but I can say with truth, that after a long and close consideration of the Furioso , I am convinced little could safely be abridged in this extraordinary poem besides these complimentary effusions. Every thing else has its use, and is conducive to some dramatic, if not poetical, effect. After being long afraid of proclaiming so bold a conclusion, I have derived great confidence from finding that such was the opinion of the late Mr. Fox, who used to contend that there was no such thing as an episode in the Furioso; and in the proper estimation of the term he is undoubtedly right, for nothing can be left out or altered, without injury to some other piece of the machinery. This may be extravagant and fantastical, but it is fitted to its ends and coherent in all its varieties.

That second Breuse sans pity did remain .

Stanza xxx. line 6.

A ferocious knight, one of the dramatis personæ in the Mort Arthur .

This nearly imitates that pile beside Old Tyber’s stream, by Adrian built .

Stanza xxxiii. lines 1 and 2.

Now called the Castle of Saint Angelo.

Layout 2

THE ORLANDO FURIOSO.

CANTO XXX.

ARGUMENT.

Great feats achieves Orlando by the way.

The Tartar king is by Rogero slain:

For whom fair Bradamant, his spouse, does stay,

Andy him expecting, suffers cruel pain.

But Fate forbade, that he who wounded lay

To her his plighted promise should maintain,

He after boldly with the brethren made,

Their lord Rinaldo in his need to aid.

THE ORLANDO FURIOSO.

CANTO XXX.

I.

When Reason, giving way to heat of blood, Herself from hasty choler ill defends, And, hurried on by blind and furious mood, We with the tongue or hand molest our friends, Though the offence is, after, wept and rued, The penance which we pay is poor amends. Alas! I sorrow and lament in vain For what I said in other angry strain.

II.

But like sick man am I, who, sore bested, Suffering with patience many and many a day, When against pain he can no more make head, Yields to his rage, and curses; pain gives way, And with it the impetuous wrath is fled, Which moved his ready tongue such ill to say; And he is left his wilful rage to rue, But cannot that which he has done undo.

III.

Well hope I, from your sovereign courtesy, Your pardon, since I crave it, ladies bright; You will excuse, if moved by madness, I Rave in my passion; let your censure light On foe, who treats me so despiteously, I could not be reduced to worser plight; Who prompts what sore repents me: Heaven above Knows how she wrongs me, knows how well I love.

IV.

No less beside myself than Brava’s peer Am I, nor less my pardon should obtain; He, who by mead or mountain, far or near, Had scowered large portion of the land of Spain, Dragging that jennet in his wild career, Dead as she was, behind him by the rein; But, where a river joined the sea, parforce Abandoned on the bank her mangled corse.

V.

And he, who could like any otter swim, Leapt in and rose upon the further side. Behold! a mounted shepherd at the brim Arrived, his horse to water in the tide; Nor when he saw Orlando coming, him Eschewed, whom naked and alone he spied. —“My jennet for thy hackney were I fain “To barter,” cried the madman to the swain:

VI.

“Her will I show thee, if thou wilt; who dead “Upon the river’s other margin fell; “At leisure may’st thou have her cured,” (he said) “And of no other fault have I to tell. “Give me thy hackney, with some boot instead: “Prythee, dismount thee, for he likes me well.” The peasant, laughing, answered not a word, But left the fool and pricked towards the ford.

VII.

“Hearest thou not? hola! I want thy steed,” (Cried Roland) and advanced with wrathful cheer. A solid staff and knotted, for his need, That shepherd had, wherewith he smote the peer; Whose violence and ire all bounds exceed, Who seems withal to wax more fierce than e’er: A cuff he levels at that rustic’s head, And splits the solid bone, and lays him dead.

VIII.

Then leaping on his horse, by different way The country scowers, to make more spoil and wrack: That palfrey never more tastes corn or hay; So that few days exhaust the famished hack. But not afoot does fierce Orlando stray, Who will not, while he lives, conveyance lack. As many as he finds, so many steeds —Their masters slain—he presses for his needs.

IX.

He came at last to Malaga, and here Did mightier scathe than he had done elsewhere For now—besides that the infuriate peer Of all its people left the country bare, Nor (such the ravage) could another year The desperate havoc of the fool repair— So many houses burnt he, or cast down, Sacked was a third of that unhappy town.

X.

Departing thence, insane Orlando flees To Zizera, a seaward town, whose site Is in Gibraltar’s bay, or (if you please) Say Gibletàr’s ; for either way ’tis hight; Here, loosening from the land, a boat he sees Filled with a party, and for pleasure dight: Which, for their solace, to the morning gale, Upon that summer sea, had spread their sail.

XI.

“Hoah! the boat! put back!” the count ’gan cry, Who was in mind to go aboard their barge: But vainly on their ears his clamours die: For of such freight none willingly take charge. As swiftly as a swallow cleaves the sky, Furrowing the foamy wave the boat goes large. Orlando urges on, with straightening knee, And whip and spur, his horse towards the sea.

XII.

He plunged into the waves, at last, parforce; For vainly would he shun the waters green. Bathed are knees, paunch, and croup, till of that horse Scarcely the head above the wave is seen: Let him not hope to measure back his course, While smitten with the whip his ears between. Woe worth him! he must founder by the way, Or into Africa his load convey.

XIII.

Nor poops nor prows does Roland more descry, For all have launched their shallops, which are wide Of that dry shore; while from his level eye Their hulls the tall and shifting surges hide. He spurs his horse amid the billows high, Wholly resolved to reach the farther side . The courser ends his swim and life in fine, Drained of his strength, and drenched brimfull of brine.

XIV.

He sinks, and would with him draw down his load; But that himself the madman’s arms upbear: With sinewy arms and either palm he rowed, And puffed and blew the brine before; the air Breathed softly, and the water gently flowed; And well was needed weather more than fair: For if the waters yet a little rise, Whelmed by the waxing tide Orlando dies.

XV.

But Fortune, that of madmen is the guide, Him from the water drew near Ceuta’s shore, Upon that beach, and of those walls as wide As twice an archer’s hand could shoot at score. For many days along the bank he hied, At hazard, ever westward hurrying sore, Until he came where on the sea-beat strand Encamped a host of blacks, a countless band.

XVI.

Leave we the paladin at will to stray! To speak of him occasion will come round. —Sir, what befel the lady of Catày, Who scaped, in time, from him of wit unsound, And afterwards, upon her homeward way, Was with good bark and better weather bound; And how she made Medoro, India’s king; Perchance some voice in happier verse may sing.

XVII.

To say so many things I am intent, I mean not to pursue the cavalier. To Mandricardo my fair argument It now behoves me, in his turn, to veer He happily enjoyed, his rival spent, The beauty, left in Europe without peer, Since fair Angelica from hence had wended, And virtuous Isabel to heaven ascended.

XVIII.

King Mandricardo, proud that in his right His lady had adjudged the amorous suit, Enjoys not her award with full delight; Since others with him other points dispute. By young Rogero claimed, that eagle white Of one disastrous quarrel is the root; Another moves the King of Sericana Against the Tartar king, for Durindana.

XIX.

Agramant and Marsilius strive in vain, With labour sore, this tangle to undo ; Nor only cannot they persuade the twain In peace and concord to unite anew, But cannot make the valiant Child refrain From claiming Hector’s buckler as his due; Nor yet Gradasso move the sword to lend, Till this , or till that , quarrel have an end.

XX.

Rogero brooks not that in other fight His shield be braced, nor will Gradasso bear That save against himself the Tartar knight Should wield the sword Orlando used to wear. “See we, in fine, on whom the chance will light “(Cries Agramant) and further words forbear. “How Fortune rules the matter let us see, “And choose him that of her shall chosen be.

XXI.

“And—would ye do what most would me delight. “And be an obligation evermore— “You shall by casting lots decide your right: “Premising, he whose lot is drawn before “The other, shall upon two quarrels fight: “So he who wins, on his companion’s score “Shall win as well as on his own; and who “Loses the battle lose alike for two.