LXIV He hopes as well, if he the warrior slay, To have the dame, whom, so aggrieved, he hates, If in the knight's disposal, and the say Of that strange knight, the footman well relates. Hence thirty men dispatched by other way Than to the portal led, where Roland waits; Who with a long and privy circuit wind, And come upon the paladin behind.

LXV He all this while had made his guard delay The knight with words, till horse and foot he spied Arrived, where he this ambuscade did lay; When from the gate he with as many hied: As is the practised hunter's wonted way, To circle wood and beasts on every side: As nigh Volana, with his sweeping nets, The wary fisher fish and pool besets.

LXVI 'Tis thus the king bars every path which lies Free for the warrior's flight, with armed train: He him alive, and in no other guise, Would have, and lightly hopes his end to gain; Nor for the earthly thunderbolt applies, That had so many and so many slain: Which here he deems would serve his purpose ill, Where he desires to take and not to kill.

LXVII As wary fowler, bent on greater prey, Wisely preserves alive the game first caught, That by the call-bird and his cheating play, More may within the circling net be brought; Such cunning art Cymosco would assay: But Roland would not be so lightly bought; Like them by the first toil that springs betrayed; And quickly forced the circle which was made.

LXVIII Where he perceives the assailants thickest stand, He rests his lance, and sticks in his career First one and afterwards another, and Another, and another, who appear Of paste; till six he of the circling band Of foes impales upon a single spear; A seventh left out, who by the push is slain, Since the clogged weapon can no more contain.

LXIX No otherwise, upon the further shore Of fosse or of canal, the frogs we spy, By cautious archer, practised in his lore, Smote and transfixed the one the other nigh; Upon the shaft, until it hold no more, From barb to feathers full, allowed to lie. The heavy lance Orlando from him flung, And to close combat with his faulchion sprung.

LXX The lance now broke, his sword the warrior drew, That sword which never yet was drawn in vain, And still with cut or thrust some soldier slew; Now horse, now footman of the tyrant's train. And, ever where he dealt a stroke, changed blue, Yellow, green, white and black, to crimson stain. Cymosco grieves, when most his need require, Not to have now his hollow cane and fire;

LXXI And with loud voice and menacing command Bids these be brought, but ill his followers hear; For those who have found safety of his band, To issue from the city are in fear. He, when he sees them fly on either hand, Would fly as well from that dread cavalier; Makes for the gate, and would the drawbridge lift, But the pursuing county is too swift.

LXXII The monarch turns his back, and leaves the knight Lord of the drawbridge and of either gate. Thanks to his swifter steed, the rest in flight He passes: good Orlando will not wait (Intent the felon, not his band, to smite) Upon the vulgar herd to wreck his hate. But his slow horse seems restive; while the king's, More nimble, flies as if equipt with wings.

LXXIII From street to street, before the count he made; And vanished clean; but after little stay, Came with new arms, with tube and fire purveyed; Which, at his hest, this while his men convey. And posted at a corner, he waylaid: His foe, as hunter watches for his prey, In forest, with armed dogs and spear, attending The boar in fury from the hill descending,

LXXIV Who rends the branch and overthrows the stone; And wheresoe'er he turns his haughty front, Appears (so loud the deafening crash and groan) As if he were uprending wood and mount, Intent to make him his bold deed atone, Cymosco at the pass expects the count; As soon as he appears, with ready light Touches the hole, and fires upon the knight.

LXXV Behind, the weapon flames in lightning's guise, And vents the thunder from before; the ground Shakes under foot and city wall; the skies The fearful echo all about rebound. The burning bolt with sudden fury flies, Not sparing aught which in its course is found. Hissing and whizzing through the skies it went; But smote not, to the assassin's foul intent.

LXXVI Whether it was his great desire to kill That baron, or his hurry made him fail, Or trembling heart, like leaf which flutters still, Made hand and arm together flinch and quail; Or that it was not the Creator's will The church so soon her champion should bewail; The glancing stroke his courser's belly tore, Outstretched on earth, from thence to rise no more.

LXXVII To earth fall horse and rider: this the knight Scarce touched; the other thundering pressed the plain: For the first rose so ready and so light, He from the fall seemed breath and force to gain. As African Anteus, in the fight, Rose from the sand with prouder might and main; So when Orlando touched the ground, to view He rose with doubled force and vigour new.

LXXVIII He who has seen the thunder, from on high, Discharged by Jove with such a horrid sound, Descend where nitre, coal, and sulphur lie, Stored up for use in magazine profound, Which scarce has reached — but touched it, ere the sky Is in a flame, as well as burning ground, Firm walls are split, and solid marbles riven, And flying stones cast up as high as heaven;

LXXIX Let him imagine, when from earth he sprung, Such was the semblance of the cavalier; Who moved in mode to frighten Mars among The Gods, so fierce and horrid was his cheer. At this dismay'd, the King of Friesland stung His horse, and turned his rein, to fly the peer: But fierce Orlando was upon his foe Faster than arrow flies from bended bow:

LXXX And, what before he could not, when possest Of his good courser, now afoot will do. His speed outgoes all thought in every breast, Exceeds all credence, save in those who view. The tyrant shortly joined, he on the crest Smote at his head so well, he cleft it through; And to the neck divided by the blow, Sent it, to shake its last on earth below.

LXXXI Lo! in the frighted city other sound Was heard to rise, and other crash of brands, From troop, who, thither in his guidance bound, Followed Bireno's cousin from his lands: Who, since the unguarded gates he open found, Into the city's heart had poured his bands; Where the bold paladin had struck such fear, He without let might scour it far and near.

LXXXII In rout the people fly, who cannot guess Who these may be, or what the foes demand: But, when this man and that by speech and dress As Zealand-men distinguishes the band, Carte blanche they proffer, and the chief address, Bidding him range them under his command; Against the Frieslanders to lend him aid, Who have their duke in loathsome prison stayed.

LXXXIII To Friesland's king that people hatred bore With all his following: who their ancient lord Had put to death, and who by them yet more, As evil and rapacious, was abhorred. Orlando interposed with kindly lore, As friend of both, the parties to accord: By whom, so joined, no Frieslander was left But was of life or liberty bereft.

LXXXIV They would not wait to seek the dungeon-key, But breaking-down the gate, their entrance made; Bireno to the count with courtesy And grateful thanks the service done repaid. Thence they, together with large company, Went where Olympia in her vessel stayed: For so was the expecting lady hight, To whom that island's crown belonged of right.

LXXXV She who had thither good Orlando brought, Not hoping that he would have thriven so well; — Enough for her, if by her misery bought, Her spouse were rescued from the tyrant's cell! — Her, full of love and loyal homage, sought The people one and all: Twere long to tell How she caressed Bireno, he the maid, — What thanks both lovers to the county paid.

LXXXVI The people, throned in her paternal reign, Replace the injured dame, and fealty swear: She on the duke, to whom in solid chain Love with eternal knot had linked the fair, The empire of herself and her domain Conferred: He, called away by other care, Left in the cousin's guardian care this while His fortresses, and all the subject isle.

LXXXVII Since he to visit Zealand's duchy planned, His faithful consort in his company; And thence, upon the king of Friesland's land, Would try his fortune (as he said), for he A pledge, he rated highly, had in hand, Which seemed of fair success the warranty, The daughter of the king: who here forsaken, With many others had been prisoner taken.

LXXXVIII To a younger brother, her, the duke pretends, To be conjoined in wedlock, he conveyed. The Roman senator thence parting wends Upon the very day Bireno weighed; But he to nothing else his hand extends Of all the many, many prized made, Save to that engine, found amid the plunder, Which in all points I said resembled thunder.

LXXXIX Not with intent, in his defence to bear What he had taken, of the prize possest; For he still held it an ungenerous care To go with vantage on whatever quest: But with design to cast the weapon where It never more should living wight molest; And, what was appertaining to it, all Bore off as well, the powder and the ball.

XC And thus, when of the tidesway he was clear, And in the deepest sea his bark descried, So that no longer distant signs appear Of either shore on this or the other side, He seized the tube, and said: "That cavalier May never vail through thee his knightly pride, Nor base be rated with a better foe, Down with thee to the darkest deep below!

XCI "O loathed, O cursed piece of enginery, Cast in Tartarean bottom, by the hand Of Beelzebub, whose foul malignity The ruin of this world through thee has planned! To hell, from whence thou came, I render thee." So said, he cast away the weapon: fanned Meanwhile, with flowing sheet, his frigate goes, By wind, which for the cruel island blows.

XCII Such was the paladin's desire to explore If in the place his missing lady were; Whom he prefers the united world before, Nor can an hour of life without her bear. He fears, if he set foot on Ireland's shore, Some other chance may interrupt him there: So that he after have in vain to say, "Why hasted I no faster on my way?"

XCIII Nor he in England nor in Ireland port Will make, nor on the coast that's opposite. But let him go, the naked archer's sport, Sore smitten in the heart! — ere I indite Yet more of him, to Holland I resort, And you to hear me company invite. For well I wot that you as well as me 'Twould grieve that bridal should without us be.

XCIV Sumptuous and fair the bridal there is made; But neither yet so sumptuous nor so fair As it will be in Zealand, it is said: But 'tis not my design you should repair Thither; since by new accidents delayed The feast will be, of which be it my care, In other strain, the tidings to report; If you to hear that other strain resort.

CANTO 10

ARGUMENT Another love assails Bireno's breast, Who leaves one night Olympia on the shore. To Logistilla's holy realm addressed, Rogero goes, nor heeds Alcina more: Him, of that flying courser repossest, The hippogryph on airy voyage bore: Whence he the good Rinaldo's levy sees, And next Angelica beholds and frees.

I Of all the loves, of all fidelity Yet proved, of all the constant hearts and true, Of all the lovers, in felicity Or sorrow faithful found, a famous crew, To Olympia I would give the first degree Rather than second: if this be not due, I well may say that hers no tale is told Of truer love, in present times or old.

II And this she by so many proofs and clear, Had made apparent to the Zealand lord, No woman's faith more certain could appear To man, though he her open heart explored: And if fair truth such spirits should endear, And they in mutual love deserve reward, Bireno as himself, nay, he above Himself, I say, should kind Olympia love.

III Not only should he nevermore deceive Her for another, were that woman she Who so made Europe and wide Asia grieve, Or fairer yet, if one more fair there be; But rather that quit her the light should leave, And what is sweet to taste, touch, hear, and see, And life and fame, and all beside; if aught More precious can in truth be styled, or thought.

IV If her Bireno loved, as she had loved Bireno, if her love he did repay With faith like hers, and still with truth unmoved, Veered not his shifting sail another way; Or ingrate for such service — cruel proved For such fair love and faith, I now will say; And you with lips comprest and eye-brows bent, Shall listen to the tale for wonderment;

V And when you shall have heard the impiety, Which of such passing goodness was the meed, Woman take warning from this perfidy, And let none make a lover's word her creed. Mindless that God does all things hear and see, The lover, eager his desires to speed, Heaps promises and vows, aye prompt to swear, Which afterwards all winds disperse in air.

VI The promises and empty vows dispersed In air, by winds all dissipated go, After these lovers have the greedy thirst Appeased, with which their fevered palates glow. In this example which I offer, versed, Their prayers and tears to credit be more slow. Cheaply, dear ladies mine, is wisdom bought By those who wit at other's cost are taught.

VII Of those in the first flower of youth beware, Whose visage is so soft and smooth to sight: For past, as soon as bred, their fancies are; Like a straw fire their every appetite. So the keen hunter follows up the hare In heat and cold, on shore, or mountain-height; Nor, when 'tis taken, more esteems the prize; And only hurries after that which flies.

VIII Such is the practise of these striplings who, What time you treat them with austerity, Love and revere you, and such homage do, As those who pay their service faithfully; But vaunt no sooner victory, than you From mistresses shall servants grieve to be; And mourn to see the fickle love they owed, From you diverted, and elsewhere bestowed.

IX I not for this (for that were wrong) opine That you should cease to love; for you, without A lover, like uncultivated vine, Would be, that has no prop to wind about. But the first down I pray you to decline, To fly the volatile, inconstant rout; To make your choice the riper fruits among, Nor yet to gather what too long has hung.

X A daughter they have found (above was said) Of the proud king who ruled the Friesland state; That with Bireno's brother was to wed, As far as rumour tells; but to relate The truth, a longing in Bireno bred The sight of food so passing delicate; And he to talk his palate deemed would be, For other's sake, a foolish courtesy.

XI The gentle damsel had not past fourteen, Was beautiful and fresh, and like a rose, When this first opening from its bud is seen, And with the vernal sun expands and grows. To say Bireno loved the youthful queen Were little; with less blaze lit tinder glows, Or ripened corn, wherever envious hand Of foe amid the grain has cast a brand,

XII Than that which on Bireno's bosom fed, And to his marrow burned; when, weeping sore The fate of her unhappy father dead, He saw her bathed in ceaseless tears deplore: And, as cold water, on the cauldron shed, Shops short the bubbling wave, which boiled before; So was the raging rife Olympia blew Within his breast, extinguished by a new.

XIII Nor feels Bireno mere satiety; He loathes her so, he ill endures her sight; And, if his hope he long deferred, will die: For other such his fickle appetite! Yet till the day prefixed to satisfy His fond desire, so feigns the wary knight, Olympia less to love than to adore He seems, and but her pleasure to explore.

XIV And if the other he too much caress, Who cannot but caress her, there are none See evil in the deed, but rather guess It is in pity, is in goodness done: Since to raise up and comfort in distress Whom Fortune's wheel beats down in changeful run, Was never blamed; with glory oftener paid; — So much the more, a young — a harmless maid.

XV Almighty God! how fallible and vain Is human judgment, dimmed by clouds obscure! Bireno's actions, impious and profane, By others are reputed just and pure. Already stooping to their oars, the train Have loosed his vessel from the port secure, And with the duke and his companions steer For Zealand through the deep, with meery cheer.

XVI Already Holland and its headlands all Are left astern, and now descried no more; Since to shun Friesland they to larboard hawl. And keep their course more nigh the Scottish shore: When they are overtaken by a squall, And drive three days the open sea before: Upon the third, when now, near eventide, A barren and unpeopled isle is spied.

XVII As soon as they were harboured in a hight, Olympia landed and the board was spread; She there contented, with the faithless knight, Supt, unsuspecting any cause for dread. Thence, with Bireno, where a tent was pight In pleasant place, repaired, and went to bed. The others of their train returned abroad, And rested in their ship, in haven moored.

XVIII The fear and late sea sorrow, which had weighed So long upon the dame and broke her rest, The finding herself safe in greenwood shade Removed from noise, and, for her tranquil breast (Knowing her lover was beside her laid) No further thoughts, no further cares molest, Olympia lap in slumber so profound, No sheltered bear or dormouse sleeps more sound.

XIX The lover false, who, hatching treason lies, Stole from his bed in silence, when he knew She slept: his clothes he in a bundle ties, Nor other raiment on his body threw. Then issuing forth from the pavilion hies, As if on new-born wings, towards his crew; Who, roused, unmoor without a cry, as he Commands, and loosen thence and put to sea.

XX Behind the land was left; and there to pine Olympia, who yet slept the woods among; Till from her gilded wheels the frosty rhine Aurora upon earth beneath had flung; And the old woe, beside the tumbling brine, Lamenting, halcyons mournful descant sung; When she, 'twixt sleep and waking, made a strain To reach her loved Bireno, but in vain.

XXI She no one found: the dame her arm withdrew; She tried again, yet no one found; she spread Both arms, now here, now there, and sought anew; Now either leg; but yet no better sped. Fear banished sleep; she oped her eyes: in view Was nothing: she no more her widowed bed Would keep, but from the couch in fury sprung, And headlong forth from the pavilion flung.

XXII And seaward ran, her visage tearing sore, Presaging, and now certain of her plight: She beat her bosom, and her tresses tore, And looked (the moon was shining) if she might Discover any thing beside the shore; Nor, save the shore, was any thing in sight. She calls Bireno, and the caverns round, Pitying her grief, Bireno's name rebound.

XXIII On the far shore there rose a rock; below Scooped by the breaker's beating frequently: The cliff was hollowed underneath, in show Of arch, and overhung the foaming sea. Olympia (MIND such vigour did bestow) Sprang up the frowning crest impetuously, And, at a distance, stretched by favouring gale, Thence saw her cruel lord's departing sail.

XXIV Saw it, or seemed to see: for ill her eyes, Things through the air, yet dim and hazy, view. She falls, all-trembling, on the ground, and lies With face than snow more cold and white in hue: But when she has again found strength to rise, Guiding her voice towards the bark which flew, Calling with all her might, the unhappy dame Calls often on her cruel consort's name.

XXV Where unavailing was the feeble note, She wept and clapt her hands in agony. "Without its freight," she cried, "thy ship does float. — Where, cruel, dost thou fly so swiftly? — Me Receive as well: — small hinderance to thy boat, Which bears my spirit, would my body be." And she her raiment waving in her hand, Signed to the frigate to return to land.

XXVI But the loud wind which, sweeping ocean, bears The faithless stripling's sail across the deep, Bears off as well the shriek, and moan, and prayers Of sad Olympia, sorrowing on the steep. Thrice, cruel to herself, the dame prepares From the high rock amid the waves to leap. But from the water lifts at length her sight, And there returns where she had passed the night.

XXVII Stretched on the bed, upon her face she lay, Bathing it with her tears. "Last night in thee Together two found shelter," did she say; "Alas! why two together are not we At rising? False Bireno! cursed day That I was born! What here remains to me To do? What can be done? — Alone, betrayed — Who will console me, who afford me aid?

XXVIII "Nor man I see, nor see I work, which shows That man inhabits in this isle; nor I See ship, in which (a refuge from my woes), Embarking, I from hence may hope to fly. Here shall I starve; nor any one to close My eyes, or give me sepulture, be by, Save wolf perchance, who roves this wood, a tomb Give me, alas! in his voracious womb.

XXIX "I live in terror, and appear to see Rough bear or lion issue even now, Or tiger, from beneath the greenwood tree, Or other beast with teeth and claws: but how Can ever cruel beast inflict on me, O cruel beast, a fouler death than thou? Enough for them to slay me once! while I Am made by thee a thousand deaths to die.

XXX "But grant, e'en now, some skipper hither fare, Who may for pity bear me hence away; And that I so eschew wolf, lion, bear, Torture, and dearth, and every horrid way Of death; to Holland shall he take me, where For thee is guarded fortilage and bay; Or take me to the land where I was born, If this thou hast from me by treachery torn?

XXXI "Thou, with pretence, from me my state didst wrest Of our connection and of amity; And quickly of my land thy troops possest, To assure the rule unto thyself. Shall I Return to Flanders where I sold the rest, Though little, upon which I lived, to buy Thee needful succour and from prison bear? Wretch, whither shall I go? — I know not where.

XXXII "Can I to Friesland go, where I to reign As queen was called, and this for thee forewent; Where both my brethren and my sire were slain, And every other good from me was rent? — Thee would I not, thou ingrate, with my pain Reproach, not therefore deal thee punishment: As well as I, the story dost thou know; Now, see the meed thou dost for this bestow!

XXXIII "Oh! may I but escape the wild corsair, Nor taken be, and after sold for slave! Rather than this may lion, wolf, or bear, Tiger, or other beast, if fiercer rave, Me with his claws and rushes rend and tear, And drag my bleeding body to his cave." So saying she her golden hair offends, And lock by lock the scattered tresses rends.

XXXIV She to the shore's extremest verge anew, Tossing her head, with hair dishevelled, run; And seemed like maid beside herself, and who Was by ten fiends possessed, instead of one; Of like the frantic Hecuba, at view Of murdered Polydore, her infant son; Fixed on a stone she gazed upon the sea, Nor less than real stone seemed stone to be.

XXXV But let her grieve till my return. To show Now of the Child I wish: his weary way Rogero, in the noon's intensest glow, Takes by the shore: the burning sunbeams play Upon the hill and thence rebound; below Boils the white sand; while heated with the ray, Little is wanting in that journey dire, But that the arms he wears are all on fire.

XXXVI While to the warrior thirst and labour sore, Still toiling through that heavy sand, as he Pursued his path along the sunny shore, Were irksome and displeasing company, Beneath the shadow of a turret hoar, Which rose beside the beach, amid the sea, He found three ladies of Alcina's court, As such distinguished by their dress and port.

XXXVII Reclined on Alexandrian carpets rare The ladies joyed the cool in great delight; About them various wines in vessels were, And every sort of comfit nicely dight; Fast by, and sporting with the ripple there, Lay, waiting on their needs, a pinnace light, Until a breeze should fill her sail anew: For then no breath upon the waters blew.

XXXVIII They, who beheld along the shifting sand Rogero wend, upon his way intent, And saw thirst figured on his lips, and scanned His troubled visage, all with sweat besprent, Began to pray, 'on what he had in hand He would not show his heart so deeply bent, But that he in the cool and grateful shade Would rest his weary limbs, beside them laid.'

XXXIX To hold the stirrup one approaching near, Would aid him to alight: the other bore A cup of chrystal to the cavalier, With foaming wine, which raised his thirst the more; But to the music of their speech no ear He lent, who weened if he his way forbore For anything, each lett would time supply To Alcina to arrive, who now was nigh.

XL Now so saltpetre fine and sulphur pure, Touched with the fiery spark, blaze suddenly; Not so loud ocean raves, when the obscure Whirlwind descends and camps in middle sea, As viewing thus the knight proceed secure Upon his journey, and aware that he Scorns them, who yet believe they beauteous are, Kindled the third of those three damsels fair.

XLI As loud as she could raise her voice, she said, "Thou art not gentle, nor art thou a knight; And hast from other arms and horse conveyed: Which never could be thine by better right. So be thy theft, if well I guess, appaid By death, which this may worthily requite! Foul thief, churl, haughty ingrate, may I thee Burned, gibbeted, or cut in quarters see!"

XLII Beside all these and more injurious cries, Which the proud damsel at the warrior throws, Though to her taunts Rogero nought replies, Who weens small fame from such a contest flows; She with her sisters to the frigate hies, Which waits them, and aboard the tender goes; And plying fast her oars, pursues the knight Along the sandy beach, still kept in sight.

XLIII On him with threat and curse she ever cried; Whose tongue collected still fresh cause for blame. Meanwhile, where to the lovelier fairy's side The passage lay across a straight, he came; And there an ancient ferryman espied Put from the other shore with punctual aim, As if forewarned and well prepared, the seer Waited the coming of the cavalier.

XLIV The ferryman put forth the Child to meet, To bear him to a better shore rejoicing: he Appeared as all benign and all discreet, If of the heart the face is warranty. Giving God thanks, Rogero took his seat Aboard the bark, and passed the quiet sea, Discoursing with that ancient pilot, fraught With wisdom, and by long experience taught.

XLV He praised Rogero much, that he had fled In time from false Alcina, and before To him the dame had given the chalice dread, Her lover's final guerdon evermore. Next that he had to Logistilla sped, Where he should duly witness holy lore, And beauty infinite and grace enjoy, Which feed and nourish hearts they never cloy.

XLVI "Her shall you, struck with wonderment, revere," (He said), "when first you shall behold the fay; But better contemplate her lofty cheer, And you no other treasure shall appay. In this her love from other differs; fear And hope in other on the bosom prey: In hers Desire demands not aught beside, And with the blessing seen is satisfied.

XLVII "You shall in nobler studies be professed, Tutored by her, than bath and costly fare, Song, dance, and perfumes; as how fashioned best, Your thoughts may tower more high than hawks in air; And how some of the glory of the blest You here may in the mortal body share." So speaking, and yet distant from the shore, To the safe bank approached the pilot hoar.

XLVIII When he beholds forth-issuing from the strand, A fleet of ships, which all towards him steer. With these came wronged Alcina, with a band Of many vassals, gathered far and near; To risk the ruin of herself and land, Or repossess the thing she held so dear. Love, no light cause, incites the dame aggrieved, Nor less the bitter injury received.

XLIX Such choler she had never felt before As that which now upon her bosom fed: And hence she made her followers ply the oar Till the white foam on either bank was shed The deafening noise and din o'er sea and shore, By echo every where repeated, spread, "Now — now, Rogero, bare the magic shield, Or in the strife be slain, or basely yield":

L Thus Logistilla's pilot; and beside, So saying, seized the pouch, wherein was dight The buckler, and the covering torn aside, Exposed to open view the shining light. The enchanted splendor, flashing far and wide, So sore offends the adversaries' sight, They from their vessels drop amazed and blind, Tumbling from prow before, and poop behind.

LI One who stood sentry on the citadel Descried the navy of the invading dame, And backwards rang the castle larum-bell, Whence speedy succours to the haven came. The artillery rained like storm, whose fury fell On all who would Rogero scathe and shame: So that such aid was brought him in the strife, As saved the warrior's liberty and life.

LII Four ladies are arrived upon the strand, Thither by Logistilla sped in haste: Leagued with the valiant Anrondica stand Fronesia sage, Dicilla good, and chaste Sofrosina, who, as she has in had More than the others, 'mid the foremost placed, Conspicuous flames. Forth issues from the fort A matchless host, and files towards the port.

LIII Beneath the castle, safe from wind and swell, Of many ships and stout, a squadron lay; Which, in the harbour, at a sound from bell, — A word, were fit for action, night or day; And thus by land and sea was battle, fell And furious, waged on part of either fay: Whence was Alcina's realm turned upside down, Of which she had usurped her sister's crown.

LIV Oh! of how many battles the success Is different from what was hoped before! Not only failed the dame to repossess, As thought, her lover flying from her shore, But out of ships, even now so numberless, That ample ocean scarce the navy bore, From all her vessels, to the flames a prey, But with one bark escaped the wretched fay.

LV Alcina flies; and her sad troop around Routed and taken, burnt or sunk, remains To have lost Rogero, sorrow more profound Wakes in her breast than all her other pains; And she in bitter tears for ever drowned, Of the Child's loss by night and day complains; And bent to end her woes, with many a sigh, Often laments her that she cannot die.

LVI No fairy dies, or can, while overhead The sun shall burn, or heaven preserve their stile, Or Clotho had been moved to cut her thread, Touched by such grief; or, as on funeral pile Fair Dido, she beneath the steel had bled; Or, haply, like the gorgeous Queen of Nile, In mortal slumber would have closed her eye: But fairies cannot at their pleasure die.

LVII Return we, where eternal fame is due, Leaving Alcina in her trouble sore: I speak of valorous Rogero, who Had disembarked upon the safer shore. He turned his back upon the waters blue, Giving God thanks for all with pious lore; And on dry ground now landed, made repair Towards the lofty castle planted there.

LVIII Than this a stronger or more bright in show Was never yet before of mortal sight, Or after, viewed; with stones the ramparts glow More rich than carbuncle or diamond bright. We of like gems discourse not here below, And he who would their nature read aright Must thither speed: none such elsewhere, I ween, Except perhaps in heaven above, are seen.

LIX What gives to them superiority O'er every other sort of gem, confessed, Is, man in these his very soul may see; His vices and his virtues see expressed. Hence shall he after heed no flattery, Nor yet by wrongful censure be depressed. His form he in the lucid mirror eyes, And by the knowledge of himself grows wise.

LX Their rays, which imitate the sunshine, fill All round about with such a flood of light, That he who has them, Phoebus, may at will Create himself a day, in thy despite. Nor only marvellous the gems; the skill Of the artificer and substance bright So well contend for mastery, of the two, 'Tis hard to judge where preference is due.

LXI On arches raised, whereon the firmament Seemed to repose as props, so fair in show Are lovely gardens, and of such extent, As even would be hard to have below. Clustering 'twixt lucid tower or battlement, Green odoriferous shrubs are seen to grow, Which through the summer and the winter shoot, And teem with beauteous blossom and ripe fruit.

LXII Never in any place such goodly tree Is grown, except within these gardens fine; Or rose, or violet of like quality, Lilies, or amaranth, or jessamine. Elsewhere it seems as if foredoomed to be Born with one sun, to live and to decline, Upon its widowed stalk the blossom dies, Subject to all the changes of the skies.

LXIII But here the verdure still is permanent, Still permanent the eternal blossoms are; Not that kind nature, in her government, So nicely tempers here the genial air, But that, unneeding any influence lent By planet, Logistilla's zeal and care Ever keep fast (what may appear a thing Impossible) her own perpetual spring.

LXIV That such a gentle lord had sought her rest, Did much the prudent Logistilla please, And she commanded he should be carest, And all should seek to do him courtesies. Sometime had Sir Astolpho been her guest, Whom with a joyful heart Rogero sees. There in few days resorted all the crew, Changed by Melissa to their shapes anew.

LXV When they a day or more their weariness Had eased, Rogero sought the prudent fay; With him the duke Astolpho, who no less Desired to measure back his western way. Melissa was for both embassadress, And for the warlike pair, with humble say To favour, warn and help them, prayed the dame; So that they might return from whence they came.

LXVI "I" (said the fay) "will think upon this need, And in two days the pair will expedite." Then thought how good Rogero she should speed. And afterwards how aid the English knight. She wills the first shall, on the griffin steed, To the Aquitanian shores direct his flight; But first will fashion for the flying-horse A bit, to guide him and restrain his course.

LXVII She shows him what to do, if he on high Would make him soar, or down to earth would bring, And what, would he in circles make him fly, Or swiftly speed, or pause upon the wing. And all that skilful horsemen use to try Upon plain ground, beneath her tutoring, Rogero learned in air, and gained dominion Over the griffin-steed of soaring pinion.

LXVIII When at all points Rogero was prepared, He bade farewell to the protecting fay, For ever to the loving knight endeared, And issued from her realm upon his way. I first of him, who on his journey fared In happy hour, and afterwards shall say Of the English knight, who spent more time and pain Seeking the friendly court of Charlemagne.

LXIX Rogero thence departs; but as before Takes not the way he took in his despite, When him above the sea the courser bore, And seldom was the land beneath in sight. But taught to make him beat his wings and soar, Here, there, as liked him best, with docile flight, Returning, he another path pursued; As Magi erst, who Herod's snare eschewed.

LXX Borne hither, good Rogero, leaving Spain, Had sought, in level line, the Indian lands, Where they are watered by the Eastern main; Where the two fairies strove with hostile bands. He now resolved to visit other reign Than that where Aeolus his train commands; And finish so the round he had begun, Circling the world beneath him like the sun.

LXXI Here the Catay, and there he Mangiane, Passing the great Quinsay beheld; in air Above Imavus turned, and Sericane Left on the right; and thence did ever bear From the north Scythians to the Hyrcanian main: So reached Sarmatia's distant land; and, where Europe and Asia's parted climes divide, Russ, Prussian, he and Pomeranian spied.

LXXII Although the Child by every wish was pressed Quickly to seek his Bradamant, yet he With taste of roving round the world possest, Would not desist from it, till Hungary He had seen; and Polacks, Germans, and the rest Should in his wide extended circuit see, Inhabiting that horrid, northern land; And came at last to England's farthest strand.

LXXIII Yet think not, sir, that in so long a flight, The warrior is for ever on the wing. Who lodges, housed in tavern every night, As best as can, through his capacious ring. So nights and days he passes: such delight Prospects to him of land and ocean bring. Arrived one morn nigh London-town, he stopt; And over Thames the flying courser dropt.

LXXIV Where he in meadows to the city nigh Saw troops of men at arms, and footmen spread; Who, to the drum and trumpet marching by, Divided into goodly bands, were led Before Rinaldo, flower of chivalry; He that (if you remember it) was said To have been sent by Charlemagne, and made His envoy to these parts in search of aid.

LXXV Rogero came exactly as the show Of that fair host was made without the town, And of a knight the occasion sought to know; But from the griffin-horse first lighted down: And he who courteous was, informed him how Of kingdoms holding of the British crown, English, Scotch, Irish, and the Islands nigh, Those many banners were, upreared on high:

LXXVI And added, having ended this display Of arms, the troops would file towards the strand, Where vessels anchored in the harbour lay, Waiting to bear them to another land. "The French beseiged, rejoice in this array, And hope (he said) deliverance through the band. But that I may of all inform you well, I of each troop shall separately tell.

LXXVII "Lo! where yon mighty banner planted stands, Which pards and flower-de-luces does unfold, That our great captain to the wind expands, Under whose ensign are the rest enrolled: The warrior's name, renowned throughout these lands, Is Leonetto, flower of all the bold; Lancaster's duke, and nephew to the king, Valiant in war, and wise in counselling.

LXXVIII "That next the royal gonfalon, which stirred By fluttering wind, is borne towards the mount, Which on green field, three pinions of a bird Bears agent, speaks Sir Richard, Warwick's count. The Duke of Gloucester's blazon is the third, Two antlers of a stag, and demi-front; The Duke of Clarence shows a torch, and he Is Duke of York who bears that verdant tree.

LXXIX "Upon the Duke of Norfolk's gonfalon You see a lance into three pieces broke; The thunder on the Earl of Kent's; upon Pembroke's a griffin; underneath a yoke; In Essex's, conjoined, two snakes are shown: By yonder lifted balance is bespoke The Duke of Suffolk; and Northumbria's Earl A garland does on azure field unfurl.

LXXX "Arundel's Earl is yonder cavalier, Whose banner bears a foundering bark! In sight The next, is Berkeley's noble Marquis; near Are March and Richmond's Earls: the first on white Shows a cleft mount; a palm the second peer; A pine amid the waves the latter knight. The next of Dorset and Southampton's town, Are earls; this bears a car, and that a crown.

LXXXI "The valiant Raymond, Earl of Devon, bears The hawk, which spreads her wings above her nest; While or and sable he of Worcester wears: Derby's a dog, a bear is Oxford's crest. There, as his badge, a cross of chrystal rears Bath's wealthy prelate, camped among the rest. The broken seat on dusky field, next scan, Of Somerset's good duke, Sir Ariman.

LXXXII "Forty-two thousand muster in array, The men at arms and mounted archers there. By a hundred I misreckon not, or they, The fighting footmen, twice as many are. Those ensigns yellow, brown, and green, survey, And that striped blue and black. The foot repair Each to his separate flag where these are spread; By Godfrey, Henry, Hermant, Edward, led.

LXXXIII "The first is the Duke of Buckingham; and he, The next, is Henry, Earl of Salisbury; Old Hermant Aberga'nny hold in fee, That Edward is the Earl of Shrewsbury. In those who yonder lodge, the English see Camped eastward; and now westward turn your eye, Where you shall thirty thousand Scots, a crew Led by their monarch's son, Zerbino, view.

LXXXIV "The lion 'twixt two unicorns behold Upon the standard of the Scottish king! Which has a sword of silver in its hold. There camps his son: of all his following Is none so beauteous: nature broke the mould In which she cast him, after fashioning Her work: Is none in whom such chivalry And valour shines. The Duke of Rothsay he!

LXXXV "Behold the Earl of Huntley's flag display Upon an azure field a gilded bar: In that a leopard in the toils survey, The bearing of the noble Duke of Mar. With many birds, and many colours gay, See Alcabrun's, a valiant man in war; Who neither duke, nor count, nor marquis hight, Is in his savage country first of right.

LXXXVI "The Duke of Strathforth shows the bird, who strains His daring eyes to keep the sun in view; The Earl Lurcanio, that in Angus reigns, A bull, whose flanks are torn by deerhounds two. See there the Duke of Albany, who stains His ensign's field with colours white and blue. The Earl of Buchan next his banner bears, In which a dragon vert a vulture tears.

LXXXVII "Herman, the lord of Forbes, conducts that band, And stripes his gonfalon with black and white; With Errol's earl upon his better hand, Who on a field of green displays a light. Now see the Irish, next the level land, Into two squadrons ordered for the fight. Kildare's redoubted earl commands the first; Lord Desmond leads the next, in mountains nursed.

LXXXVIII "A burning pine by Kildare is displayed; By Desmond on white field a crimson bend. Nor only England, Scotland, Ireland, aid King Charlemagne; but to assist him wend The Swede and Norse, and succours are conveyed From Thule, and the farthest Iceland's end. All lands that round them lie, in fine, increase His host, by nature enemies to peace.

LXXXIX "Issued from cavern and from forest brown, They sixteen thousand are, or little less; Visage, legs, arms, and bosom overgrown With hair, like beasts. Lo! yonder, where they press About a standard white, the level down Of lances seems a bristling wilderness. Such Moray's flag, the savage squadron's head, Who means with Moorish blood to paint it red."

XC What time Rogero sees the fair array, Whose bands to succour ravaged France prepare, And notes and talks of ensigns they display, And names of British lords, to him repair One and another, crowding to survey His courser, single of its kind, or rare: All thither hasten, wondering and astound, And compassing the warrior, form a round.

XCI So that to raise more wonder in the train. And to make better sport, as him they eyed, Rogero shook the flying courser's rein, And lightly with the rowels touched his side: He towards heaven, uprising, soared amain, And left behind each gazer stupefied. Having from end to end the English force So viewed, he next for Ireland shaped his course;

XCII And saw fabulous Hibernia, where The goodly, sainted elder made the cave, In which men cleansed from all offences are; Such mercy there, it seems, is found to save. Thence o'er that sea he spurred, through yielding air, Whose briny waves the lesser Britain lave; And, looking down, Angelica descried In passing, to the rock with fetters tied;

XCIII Bound to the naked rock upon the strand, In the isle of tears; for the isle of tears was hight, That which was peopled by the inhuman band, So passing fierce and full of foul despite; Who (as I told above) on every hand Cruized with their scattered fleet by day or night; And every beauteous woman bore away, Destined to be a monster's evil prey:

XCIV There but that morning bound in cruel wise; Where (to devour a living damsel sped) The orc, that measureless sea-monster, hies, Which on abominable food is fed. How on the beach the maid became the prize Of the rapacious crew, above was said, Who found her sleeping near the enchanter hoar, Who her had thither brought by magic lore.

XCV The cruel and inhospitable crew To the voracious beast the dame expose Upon the sea-beat shore, as bare to view As nature did at first her work compose. Not even a veil she had, to shade the hue Of the white lily and vermillion rose, Which mingled in her lovely members meet, Proof to December-snow and July-heat.

XCVI Her would Rogero have some statue deemed Of alabaster made, or marble rare, Which to the rugged rock so fastened seemed By the industrious sculptor's cunning care, But that he saw distinct a tear which streamed Amid fresh-opening rose and lily fair, Stand on her budding paps beneath in dew, And that her golden hair dishevelled flew.

XCVII And as he fastened his on her fair eyes, His Bradamant he called to mind again. Pity and love within his bosom rise At once, and ill he can from tears refrain: And in soft tone he to the damsel cries, (When he has checked his flying courser's rein) "O lady, worthy but that chain to wear, With which Love's faithful servants fettered are,

XCVIII "And most unworthy this or other ill, What wretch has had the cruelty to wound And gall those snowy hands with livid stain, Thus painfully with griding fetters bound?" At this she cannot choose but show like grain, Of crimson spreading on an ivory ground; Knowing those secret beauties are espied, Which, howsoever lovely, shame would hide;

XCIX And gladly with her hands her face would hood, Were they not fastened to the rugged stone: But with her tears (for this at least she could) Bedewed it, and essayed to hold it down. Sobbing some while the lovely damsel stood; Then loosed her tongue and spake in feeble tone; But ended not; arrested in mid-word, By a loud noise which in the sea was heard.

C Lo! and behold! the unmeasured-beast appears, Half surging and half hidden, in such sort As sped by roaring wind long carack steers From north or south, towards her destined port. So the sea monster to his food repairs: And now the interval between is short. Half dead the lady is through fear endured, Ill by that other's comfort reassured.

CI Rogero overhand, not in the rest Carries his lance, and beats, with downright blow, The monstrous orc. What this resembled best, But a huge, writhing mass, I do not know; Which wore no form of animal exprest, Save in the head, with eyes and teeth of sow. His forehead, 'twixt the eyes, Rogero smites, But as on steel or rock the weapon lights.

CII When he perceives the first of no avail, The knight returns to deal a better blow; The orc, who sees the shifting shadow sail Of those huge pinions on the sea below, In furious heat, deserts his sure regale On shore, to follow that deceitful show: And rolls and reels behind it, as it fleets. Rogero drops, and oft the stroke repeats.

CIII As eagle, that amid her downward flight, Surveys amid the grass a snake unrolled, Or where she smoothes upon a sunny height, Her ruffled plumage, and her scales of gold, Assails it not where prompt with poisonous bite To hiss and creep; but with securer hold Gripes it behind, and either pinion clangs, Lest it should turn and wound her with its fangs;

CIV So the fell orc Rogero does not smite With lance or faulchion where the tushes grow, But aims that 'twixt the ears his blow may light; Now on the spine, or now on tail below. And still in time descends or soars upright, And shifts his course, to cheat the veering foe: But as if beating on a jasper block, Can never cleave the hard and rugged rock.

CV With suchlike warfare is the mastiff vext By the bold fly in August's time of dust, Or in the month before or in the next, This full of yellow spikes and that of must; For ever by the circling plague perplext, Whose sting into his eyes or snout is thrust: And oft the dog's dry teeth are heard to fall; But reaching once the foe, he pays for all.

CVI With his huge tail the troubled waves so sore The monster beats, that they ascend heaven-high; And the knight knows not if he swim, or soar Upon his feathered courser in mid sky; And oft were fain to find himself ashore: For, if long time the spray so thickly fly, He fears it so will bathe his hippogryph, That he shall vainly covet gourd or skiff.

CVII He then new counsel took, and 'twas the best, With other arms the monster to pursue; And lifting from his shield the covering vest, To dazzle with the light his blasted view. Landward towards the rock-chained maid he pressed, And on her little finger, lest a new Mischance should follow, slipt the ring, which brought The enchantment of the magic shield to nought.

CVIII I say the ring, which Bradamant, to free Rogero, from Brunello's hand had rent, And which, to snatch him from Alcina, she Had next to India by Melissa sent. Melissa (as before was said by me), In aid of many used the instrument; And to Rogero this again had born; By whom 'twas ever on his finger worn.

CIX He gave it now Angelica; for he Feared lest the buckler's light should be impaired, And willed as well those beauteous eyes should be Defended, which had him already snared. Pressing beneath his paunch full half the sea, Now to the shore the monstrous whale repaired: Firm stood Rogero, and the veil undone, Appeared to give the sky another sun.

CX He in the monster's eyes the radiance throws, Which works as it was wont in other time. As trout or grayling to the bottom goes In stream, which mountaineer disturbs with lime; So the enchanted buckler overthrows The orc, reversed among the foam and slime. Rogero here and there the beast astound Still beats, but cannot find the way to wound.

CXI This while the lady begs him not to bray Longer the monster's rugged scale in vain. "For heaven's sake turn and loose me" (did she say, Still weeping) "ere the orc awake again. Bear me with thee, and drown me in mid-way. Let me not this foul monster's food remain." By her just plaint Rogero moved, forebore, Untied the maid, and raised her from the shore.

CXII Upon the beach the courser plants his feet, And goaded by the rowel, towers in air, And gallops with Rogero in mid seat, While on the croup behind him sate the fair; Who of his banquet so the monster cheat; For him too delicate and dainty fare. Rogero turns and with thick kisses plies The lady's snowy breast and sparkling eyes.

CXIII He kept no more the way, as he before Proposed, for compassing the whole of Spain: But stopt his courser on the neighbouring shore Where lesser Britain runs into the main. Upon the bank there rose an oakwood hoar, Where Philomel for ever seemed to plain; I' the middle was a meadow with a fountain, And, at each end, a solitary mountain.

CXIV 'Twas here the wishful knight first checked the rein, And dropping in the meadow, made his steed Furl, yet not shut so close, his wings again, As he had spread them wide for better speed. Down lights Rogero, and forbears with pain From other leap; but this his arms impede: His arms impede; a bar to his desire, And he must doff them would he slake the fire.

CXV Now here, now there, confused by different throng, Rogero did his shining arms undo: Never the task appeared to him so long; For where he loosed one knot, he fastened two. But, sir, too long continued is this song, And haply may as well have wearied you; So that I shall delay to other time, When it may better please, my tedious rhyme.

CANTO 11

ARGUMENT Assisted by the magic ring she wears, Angelica evanishes from view. Next in a damsel, whom a giant bears Beneath his arm, his bride Rogero true Beholds. Orlando to the shore repairs, Where the fell orc so many damsels slew; Olympia frees, and spoils the beast of life: Her afterwards Oberto takes to wife.

I Although a feeble rein, in mid career, Will oft suffice to stop courageous horse; 'Tis seldom Reason's bit will serve to steer Desire, or turn him from his furious course, When pleasure is in reach: like headstrong bear, Whom from the honeyed meal 'tis ill to force, If once he scent the tempting mess, or sup A drop, which hangs upon the luscious cup.

II What reason then Rogero shall withhold From taking with Angelica delight, — That gentle maid, there naked in his hold, In the lone forest, and secure from sight? Of Bradamant he thinks not, who controlled His bosom erst: and foolish were the knight, If thinking of that damsel as before, By this he had not set an equal store;

III Warmed by whose youthful beauties, the severe Xenocrates would not have been more chaste. The impatient Child had dropt both shield and spear, And hurrying now his other arms uncased; When, casting down her eyes in shame and fear, The virtuous ring upon her finger placed, Angelica descried, and which of yore From her Brunello in Albracca bore.

IV This is the ring she carried into France, When thither first the damsel took her way; With her the brother, bearer of the lance, After, the paladin, Astolpho's prey. With this she Malagigi's spells and trance Made vain by Merlin's stair; and on a day Orlando freed, with many knights and good, From Dragontina's cruel servitude:

V With this passed viewless from the turret-cell, Where her that bad old man had mewed; but why Recount its different wonders, if as well You know the virtues of the ring as I? From her this even in her citadel, His monarch Agramant to satisfy, Brunello took: since where she had been crost By Fortune, till her native realm was lost.

VI Now that she this upon her hand surveys, She is so full of pleasure and surprise, She doubts it is a dream, and, in amaze, Hardly believes her very hand and eyes. Then softly to her mouth the hoop conveys, And, quicker than the flash which cleaves the skies, From bold Rogero's sight her beauty shrowds, As disappears the sun, concealed in clouds.

VII Yet still Rogero gazed like wight distraught, And hurried here and there with fruitless speed: But when he had recalled the ring to thought, Foiled and astounded, cursed his little heed. And now the vanished lady, whom he sought, Of that ungrateful and discourteous deed Accusing stood, wherewith she had repaid, (Unfitting recompense) his generous aid.

VIII "Ungrateful damsel! and is this the pay You render for the service done?" (said he) "Why rather would you steal my ring away Than have it as a welcome gift from me? Not only this, (but use me as you may) I, and my shield and courser, yours shall be; So you no more conceal your beauteous cheer. Cruel, though answering not, I know you hear."

IX So saying, like one blind, with bootless care, Feeling his way about the fount he strayed. How often he embraced the empty air, Hoping in this to have embraced the maid! Meanwhile, now far removed, the flying fair Had halted not, till to a cave conveyed. Formed in a mountain was that harbour rude; Spacious, and for her need supplied with food.

X 'Twas here an aged herdsman, one who tended A numerous troop of mares, had made his won: These, seeking pasture, through the valley wended, Where the green grass was fed by freshening run: While stalls on either side the cave, defended His charge from the oppressive noon-tide sun; Angelica, within, that livelong day, Unseen of prying eyes, prolonged her stay;

XI And about evening, when refreshed with rest And food, she deemed her course she might renew; In certain rustic weeds her body dressed: How different from those robes of red, or blue, Green, yellow, purple, her accustomed vest, So various in its fashion, shape, and hue! Yet her not so that habit misbecame, But that she looked the fair and noble dame.

XII Then Phillis' and Neaera's praise forbear, And ye who sing of Amaryllis cease, Or flying Galataea, not so fair, Tityrus and Melibaeus, with your peace! 'Twas here the beauteous lady took a mare, Which liked her best, of all that herd's increase. Then, and then first conceived the thought, again To seek in the Levant her antient reign.

XIII This while Rogero, after he had passed Long space in hope the maid might re-appear, Awakened from his foolish dream at last, And found she was not nigh, and did not hear. Then to remount his griffin-courser cast, In earth and air accustomed to career. But, having slipt his bit, the winged horse Had towered and soared in air a freer course.

XIV To his first ill addition grave and sore Was to have lost the bird of rapid wing, Which he no better than the mockery bore Put on him by the maid; but deeper sting Than this or that, implants, and pains him more, The thought of having lost the precious ring; Not for its power so much, esteemed above Its worth, as given him by his lady love.

XV Afflicted beyond measure, he, with shield Cast on his shoulder, and new-cased in mail, Left the sea-side, and through a grassy field Pursued his way, towards a spacious vale: Where he beheld a path, by wood concealed, The widest and most beaten in the dale. Nor far had wound the closest shades within, Ere on his right he heard a mighty din.

XVI He heard a din, and fearful clashing sound Of arms, and hurrying on with eager pace 'Twixt tree and tree, two furious champions found, Waging fierce fight in close and straightened place: Who to each other (warring on what ground I know not) neither showed regard nor grace. The one a giant was of haughty cheer, And one a bold and gallant cavalier.

XVII Covered with shield and sword, one, leaping, sped Now here now there, and thus himself defended, Lest a two-handed mace upon his head Should fall, with which the giant still offended: — On the field lay his horse, already dead. Rogero paused, and to the strife attended: And straight his wishes leant towards the knight, Whom he would fain see conqueror in the fight:

XVIII Yet not for this would lend the champion aid, But to behold the cruel strife stood nigh. Lo! a two-handed stroke the giant made Upon the lesser warrior's casque, and by The mighty blow the knight was overlaid: The other, when astound he saw him lie, To deal the foe his death, his helm untied, So that the warrior's face Rogero spied.

XIX Of his sweet lady, of his passing fair, And dearest Bradamant Rogero spies The lovely visage of its helmet bare; Towards whom, to deal her death, the giant hies: So that, advancing with his sword in air, To sudden battle him the Child defies, But he, who will not wait for new alarm, Takes the half-lifeless lady in his arm,

XX And on his shoulder flings and bears away; As sometimes wolf a little lamb will bear, Or eagle in her crooked claws convey Pigeon, or such-like bird, through liquid air. Rogero runs with all the speed he may, Who sees how needed is his succour there. But with such strides the giant scours the plain, Him with his eyes the knight pursues with pain.

XXI This flying and that following, the two Kept a close path which widened still, and they Piercing that forest, issued forth to view On a wide meadow, which without it lay. — No more of this. Orlando I pursue, That bore Cymosco's thunder-bolt away; And this had in the deepest bottom drowned, That never more the mischief might be found.

XXII But with small boot: for the impious enemy Of human nature, taught the bolt to frame, After the shaft, which darting from the sky Pierces the cloud and comes to ground in flame, Who, when he tempted Eve to eat and die With the apple, hardly wrought more scathe and shame, Some deal before, or in our grandsires' day, Guided a necromancer where it lay.

XXIII More than a hundred fathom buried so, Where hidden it had lain a mighty space, The infernal tool by magic from below Was fished and born amid the German race; Who, by one proof and the other, taught to know Its powers, and he who plots for our disgrace, The demon, working on their weaker wit, As last upon its fatal purpose hit.

XXIV To Italy and France, on every hand The cruel art among all people past: And these the bronze in hollow mould expand, First in the furnace melted by the blast: Others the iron bore, and small or grand, Fashion the various tube they pierce or cast. And bombard, gun, according to its frame, Or single cannon this, or double, name.

XXV This saker, culverine, or falcon hight, I hear (all names the inventor has bestowed); Which splits or shivers steel and stone outright, And, where the bullet passes, makes a road. — Down to the sword, restore thy weapons bright, Sad soldier, to the forge, a useless load; And gun or carbine on thy shoulder lay, Who without these, I wot, shalt touch no pay.

XXVI How, foul and pestilent discovery, Didst thou find place within the human heart? Through thee is martial glory lost, through thee The trade of arms became a worthless art: And at such ebb are worth and chivalry, That the base often plays the better part. Through thee no more shall gallantry, no more Shall valour prove their prowess as of yore.

XXVII Through thee, alas! are dead, or have to die, So many noble lords and cavaliers Before this war shall end, which, Italy Afflicting most, has drowned the world in tears, That, if I said the word, I err not, I, Saying he sure the cruellest appears And worst, of nature's impious and malign, Who did this hateful engine first design:

XXVIII And I shall think, in order to pursue The sin for ever, God has doomed to hell That cursed soul, amid the unhappy crew, Beside the accursed Judas there to dwell. But follow we the good Orlando, who So burns to seek Ebuda's island fell, Whose foul inhabitants a monster sate With flesh of women, fair and delicate.

XXIX But no less slow than eager was the knight: The winds appear, which still his course delay; Who, whether blowing on the left or right, Or poop, so faintly in his canvas play, His bark makes little speed; and, spent outright, The breeze which wafts her sometimes dies away, Or blows so foul, that he is fain to steer Another course, or to the leeward veer.

XXX It was the will of Heaven that he, before The King of Ireland, should not reach the land, The he with greater ease upon that shore Might act what shortly you shall understand. "Make for the isle. Now" (said he) "may'st thou moor," (Thus issuing to the pilot his command), "And give me for my need the skiff; for I Will to the rock without more company.

XXXI "The biggest cable that thou hast aboard, And biggest anchor to my hands consign; Thou shalt perceive why thus my boat is stored, If I but meet that monster of the brine." He bade them lower the pinnace overboard, With all things that befitted his design: His arms he left behind, except his blade, And singly for the rocky island made.

XXXII Home to his breast the count pulls either oar, With the island at his back, to which he wends, In guise that, crawling up the sandy shore, The crooked crab from sea or marsh ascends. It was the hour Aurora gay before The rising sun her yellow hair extends (His orb as yet half-seen, half-hid from sight) Not without stirring jealous Tithon's spite.

XXXIII Approaching to the naked rock as near As vigorous hand might serve to cast a stone, He knew not if he heard, or did not hear A cry, so faint and feeble was the moan. When, turning to the left, the cavalier, His level sight along the water thrown, Naked as born, bound to a stump, espied A dame whose feet were wetted by the tide.

XXXIV Because she distant is, and evermore Holds down her face, he ill can her discern: Both sculls he pulls amain, and nears the shore, With keen desire more certain news to learn: But now the winding beach is heard to roar, And wood and cave the mighty noise return; The billows swell, and, lo! the beast! who pressed, And nigh concealed the sea beneath his breast.

XXXV As cloud from humid vale is seen to rise, Pregnant with rain and storm, which seems withal To extinguished day, and charged with deeper dyes Than night, to spread throughout this earthly ball, So swims the beast, who so much occupies Of sea, he may be said to keep it all. Waves roar: collected in himself, the peer Looks proudly on, unchanged in heart and cheer.

XXXVI He, as one well resolved in his intent, Moved quickly to perform the feat he planned; And, for he would the damsel's harm prevent, And would with that assail the beast at hand, Between her and the orc the boat he sent, Leaving within the sheath his idle brand, Anchor and cable next he takes in hold, And waits the foe with constant heart and bold.

XXXVII As soon as him the monster has descried, And skiff at little interval, his throat The fish, to swallow him, expands so wide, That horse and horseman through his jaws might float. Here Roland with the anchor, and beside (Unless I am mistaken) with the boat Plunged, and engulphed the parted teeth betwixt, His anchor in the tongue and palate fixt;

XXXVIII So that the monster could no longer drop Or raise his horrid jaws, which this extends. 'Tis thus who digs the mine is wont to prop The ground, and where he works the roof suspends, Lest sudden ruin whelm him from atop, While he incautiously his task intends. Roland (so far apart was either hook) But by a leap could reach the highest crook.

XXXIX The prop so placed, Orlando now secure That the fell beast his mouth no more can close, Unsheathes his sword, and, in that cave obscure, Deals here and there, now thrusts, now trenchant blows. As well as citadel, whose walls immure The assailants, can defend her from her foes, The monster, harassed by the war within, Defends himself against the Paladin.

XL Now floats the monstrous beast, o'ercome with pain, Whose scaly flanks upon the waves expand; And now descends into the deepest main, Scowers at the bottom, and stirs up the sand. The rising flood ill able to sustain, The cavalier swims forth, and makes for land. He leaves the anchor fastened in his tongue, And grasps the rope which from the anchor hung.

XLI So swimming till the island is attained, With this towards the rock Orlando speeds: He hawls the anchor home (a footing gained), Pricked by whose double fluke, the monster bleeds. The labouring orc to follow is constrained, Dragged by that force which every force exceeds; Which at a single sally more achieves Than at ten turns the circling windlass heaves.

XLII As a wild bull, about whose horn is wound The unexpected noose, leaps here and there, When he has felt the cord, and turns him round, And rolls and rises, yet slips not the snare; So from his pleasant seat and ancient bound, Dragged by that arm and rope he cannot tear, With thousands of strange wheels and thousand slides, The monster follows where the cable guides.

XLIII This the red sea with reason would be hight To-day, such streams of blood have changed its hue; And where the monster lashed it in his spite, The eye its bottom through the waves might view. And now he splashed the sky, and dimmed the light Of the clear sun, so high the water flew. The noise re-echoing round, the distant shore And wood and hill rebound the deafening roar.

XLIV Forth from his grotto aged Proteus hies, And mounts above the surface at the sound; And having seen Orlando dive, and rise From the orc, and drag the monstrous fish to ground, His scattered flock forgot, o'er ocean flies; While so the din increases, that, astound, Neptune bids yoke his dolphins, and that day For distant Aethiopia posts away.

XLV With Melicerta on her shoulders, weeping Ino, and Nereids with dishevelled hair, The Glauci, Tritons, and their fellows, leaping They know not whither, speed, some here, some there. Orlando draws to land, the billows sweeping, That horrid fish, but might his labour spare: For, with the torment worn, and travel sore, The brute, exhausted, died, ere dragged ashore.

XLVI Of the islanders had trooped no petty throng, To witness that strange fight, who by a vain And miserable superstition stung, Esteemed such holy deed a work profane; And said that this would be another wrong To Proteus, and provoke his ire again; Make him his herds pour forth upon the strand, And with the whole old warfare vex the land;

XLVII And that it better were to sue for peace, First from the injured god, lest worse ensue; And Proteus from his cruel hate would cease, If they into the sea the offender threw. As torch to torch gives fire, and lights increase, Until the flame is spread the country through, Even so from heart to heart the fury spread, Which in the waves would doom Orlando dead.

XLVIII These, armed with sling or bow, upon the shore, And these supplied with spear or sword descend; And on each side, behind him and before, Distant and near, as best they can, offend. At such a brutal insult wonders sore The peer, who sees that mischief they intend, In vengeance for the cruel monster slain, Whence he had glory hoped, and praise to gain.

XLIX But as the usage is of surly bear, By sturdy Russ or Lithuanian led, Little to heed the dogs in crowded fair, Nor even at their yelps to turn his head, The clamour of the churls assembled there Orlando witnessed with as little dread; Who knew that he the rout which threatened death, Had power to scatter at a single breath:

L And speedily he made them yield him place, When turned on them, he grasped his trenchant blade. Misjudging of his worth, the foolish race Deemed that he would have short resistance made; Since him they saw no covering buckler brace, Uncuirassed, nor in other arms arrayed; But knew not that, from head to foot, a skin More hard than diamond cased the Paladin.

LI What by Orlando others cannot do, The knight by others can; at half a score Of blows in all he thirty killed; by few He passed that measure, if the strokes were more: And had already turned him to undo The naked lady, having cleared the shore, When other larum sounds, and other cries From a new quarter of the island rise.

LII While so the Paladin had kept in play The barbarous islanders, upon that hand, The men of Ireland, without let or fray, Had poured from many quarters on the strand: And now, without remorse or pity, slay The inhabitants, through all the wasted land; And, was it justice moved, or cruel rage, Slaughter without regard to sex or age.

LIII Little or no defender the island-crew Attempt; in part as taken unaware, In part that in the little place are few, And that those few without a purpose are. 'Mid sack and fire, the wasted country through, The islanders are slain, and everwhere The walls are upon earth in ruin spread, Nor in the land is left a living head.

LIV As if the mighty tumult which he hears, And shriek and ruin had concerned him nought, The naked rock the bold Orlando nears, Where she was placed, to feed the monster brought. He looks, and known to him the dame appears, And more appears, when nigher her he sought: Olympia she appears, and is indeed Olympia, whose faith reaped so ill a meed.

LV Wretched Olympia; whom, beside the scorn Which Love put on her, Fortune too pursued, Who sent the corsairs fell, which her had born That very day to the island of Ebude. She Roland recollects on his return Landward; but, for the damsel naked stood, Not only nought she to the warrior said, But dared not raise her eyes, and dropt her head.

LVI Orlando asks what evil destiny Her to that cruel island had conveyed From where she in as much felicity Was with her consort left as could be said: "I know not (cried the weeping dame) if I Have thanks to render thee for death delayed, Or should lament me that, through means of thee, This day did not my woes concluded see.

LVII "I have to thank thee that from death, too dread And monstrous, thy good arm deliverance gave; Which would have been too monstrous, had I fed The beast, and in his belly found a grave: But cannot thank thee that I am not dead, Since death alone can me from misery save, Well shall I thank thee for that wished relief, Which can deliver me from every grief."

LVIII Next she related, with loud sobs and sighs, How her false spouse betrayed her as she lay Asleep, and how of pirates made the prize, They bore her from the desert isle away. And, as she spake, she turned her in the guise Of Dian, framed by artists, who pourtray Her carved or painted, as in liquid font She threw the water in Actaeon's front.

LIX For, as she can, her waist she hides, and breast, More liberal of flowing flank and reins. Roland desires his ship, to find a vest To cover her, delivered from her chains: While he is all intent upon this quest, Oberto comes; Oberto, he that reigns O'er Ireland's people, who had understood How lifeless lay the monster of the flood;

LX And, swimming, how, amid the watery roar, A knight a weighty anchor in his throat Had fix'd, and so had dragged him to the shore, As men against the current track a boat. This while Oberto comes; who, if his lore, Who told the tale, were true, desires to note; While his invading army, far and wide, Ebuda burn and waste on every side.

LXI Oberto, though the Paladin to sight Was dripping, and with water foul and gore; With gore, that from the orc, emerged to light, Whom he had entered bodily, he bore, He for the country knew the stranger knight As he perused his face; so much the more, That he had thought when told the tidings, none Save Roland could such mighty fear have done;

LXII Knew him, because a page of honour he Had been in France, and for the crown, his right Upon his father's death, had crossed the sea The year before. So often he the knight Had seen, and had with him held colloquy, Their times of meeting had been infinite. He doffed his casque, with festive welcome pressed Towards the count, and clasped him to the breast.

LXIII Orlando is no less rejoined to see The king, than is the king that champion true. After with friendly cheer and equal glee Had once or twice embraced the noble two, To Oberto Roland told the treachery Which had been done the youthful dame, and who Had done it, — false Bireno — that among All men should least have sought to do her wrong.

LXIV To him he told the many proofs and clear By which the dame's affection had been tried; And how she for Bireno kin and geer Had lost, and would in fine for him have died. And how he this could warrant, and appear To vouch for much, as witness on her side. While thus to him her griefs Orlando showed, The lady's shining eyes with tears o'erflowed.

LXV Her face was such as sometimes in the spring We see a doubtful sky, when on the plain A shower descends, and the sun, opening His cloudy veil, looks out amid the rain. And as the nightingale then loves to sing From branch of verdant stem her dulcet strain, So in her beauteous tears his pinions bright Love bathes, rejoicing in the chrystal light.

LXVI The stripling heats his golden arrow's head At her bright eyes, then slacks the weapon's glow In streams, which falls between white flowers and red; And, the shaft tempered, strongly draws his bow, And roves at him, o'er whom no shield is spread, Nor iron rind, nor double mail below; Who, gazing on her tresses, eyes, and brow, Feels that his heart is pierced, he knows not how.

LXVII Olympia's beauties are of those most rare, Nor is the forehead's beauteous curve alone Excellent, and her eyes and cheeks and hair, Mouth, nose, and throat, and shoulders; but, so down Descending from the lady's bosom fair, Parts which are wont to be concealed by gown, Are such, as haply should be placed before Whate'er this ample world contains in store.

LXVIII In whiteness they surpassed unsullied snow, Smooth ivory to the touch: above were seen Two rounding paps, like new-pressed milk in show, Fresh-taken from its crate of rushes green; The space betwixt was like the valley low, Which oftentimes we see small hills between, Sweet in its season, and now such as when Winter with snows has newly filled the glen.

LXIX The swelling hips and haunches' symmetry, The waist more clear than mirror's polished grain, And members seem of Phidias' turnery, Or work of better hand and nicer pain. As well to you of other parts should I Relate, which she to hide desired in vain. To sum the beauteous whole, from head to feet, In her all loveliness is found complete.

LXX And had she in the Idaean glen unveiled In ancient days before the Phrygian swain, By how much heavenly Venus had prevailed I know not, though her rivals strove in vain. Nor haply had the youth for Sparta sailed, To violate the hospitable reign; But said: "With Menelaus let Helen rest! No other prize I seek, of this possest";

LXXI Or in Crotona dwelt, where the divine Zeuxis in days of old his work projected, To be the ornament of Juno's shrine, And hence so many naked dames collected; And in one form perfection to combine, Some separate charm from this or that selected, He from no other model need have wrought. Since joined in her were all the charms he sought.

LXXII I do not think Bireno ever viewed Naked that beauteous form; for sure it were He never could have been so stern of mood, As to have left her on that desert lair. That Ireland's king was fired I well conclude, Nor hid the flame that he within him bare. He strives to comfort her, and hope instill, That future good shall end her present ill.

LXXIII And her to Holland promises to bear, And vows till she is to her state restored, And just and memorable vengeance there Achieved upon her perjured, traitor lord, He never will unceasing war forbear, Waged with all means that Ireland can afford; And this with all his speed. He, up and down, Meantime bids seek for female vest and gown.

LXXIV Now will it need to send in search of vest Beyond the savage island's narrow bound, Since thither every day in such came dressed, Some dame, to feed the beast, from countries round. Nor long his followers there pursued the quest, Ere many they of various fashions found. So was Olympia clothed; while sad of mood Was he, not so to clothe her as he wou'd.

LXXV But never silk so choice or gold so fine Did the industrious Florentine prepare, Nor whosoever broiders gay design, Though on his task be spent time, toil, and care, Nor Lemnos' god, nor Pallas' art divine, Form raiment worthy of those limbs so fair, That King Oberto cannot choose but he Recalls them at each turn to memory.

LXXVI To see that love so kindled by the dame, On many grounds Orlando was content; Who not alone rejoiced that such a shame Put upon her, Bireno should repent; But, that in the design on which he came, He should be freed from grave impediment. Not for Olympia thither had he made, But, were his lady there, to lend her aid.

LXXVII To him, that there she was not, soon was clear, But clear it was not if she had been there, Or no; since of those islesmen, far and near, One was not left the tidings to declare. The following day they from the haven steer, And all united in one squadron fare. The Paladin with them to Ireland hies, From whence to France the warrior's passage lies.

LXXVIII Scarcely a day in Ireland's realm he spends: And for no prayers his purposed end forbore: Love, that in quest of his liege-lady sends The knight upon this track, permits no more. Departing, he Olympia recommends To the Irish monarch, who to serve her swore: Although this needed not; since he was bent More than behoved, her wishes to content:

LXXIX So levied in few days his warlike band, And (league with England's kind and Scotland's made) In Holland and in Friesland left no land To the false duke, so rapid was the raid. And to rebel against that lord's command His Zealand stirred; nor he the war delayed, Until by him Bireno's blood was spilt: A punishment that ill atoned his guilt.

LXXX Oberto takes to wife Olympia fair, And her of countess makes a puissant queen. But be the Paladin again our care, Who furrows , night and day, the billows green, And strikes his sails in the same harbour, where They to the wind erewhile unfurled had been All armed, he on his Brigliadoro leaps, And leaves behind him winds and briny deeps.

LXXXI The remnant of the winter, he with shield And spear achieved things worthy to be shown, I ween; but these were then so well concealed, It is no fault of mine they are not blown; For good Orlando was in fighting field, Prompter to do, than make his prowess known. Nor e'er was bruited action of the knight, Save when some faithful witness was in sight.

LXXXII That winter's remnant he so passed that feat Of his was known not to the public ear; But when within that animal discreet Which Phryxus bore, the sun illumed the sphere, And Zephyrus returning glad and sweet, Brought back with him again the blooming year, The wondrous deeds Orlando did in stower, Appeared with the new grass and dainty flower.

LXXXIII From plain to hill, from champaign flat to shore, Oppressed with grief and pain the County fares, When a long cry, entering a forest hoar, — A load lamenting smites upon his ears. He grasps his brand and spurs his courser sore, And swiftly pricks toward the sound he hears. But I shall at another season say What chanced, and may be heard in future lay.

CANTO 12

ARGUMENT Orlando, full of rage, pursues a knight Who bears by force his lady-love away, And comes where old Atlantes, by his sleight Had raised a dome, Rogero there to stay. Here too Rogero comes; where getting sight Of his lost love, the County strives in fray With fierce Ferrau, and, after slaughter fell Amid the paynim host, finds Isabel.

I Ceres, when from the Idaean dame in haste Returning to the lonely valley, where Enceladus the Aetnaean mountain placed On his bolt-smitten flanks, is doomed to bear, Her girl she found not, on that pathless waste, By her late quitted, having rent her hair, And marked cheeks, eyes, and breast, with livid signs, At the end of her lament tore up two pines,

II And lit at Vulcan's fire the double brand, And gave them virtue never to be spent; And, afterwards, with one in either hand, Drawn by two dragons, in her chariot went, Searching the forest, hill, and level land, Field, valley, running stream, or water pent, The land and sea; and having searched the shell Of earth above, descended into hell.

III Had Roland of Eleusis' deity The sovereign power possessed no less than will, He for Angelica had land and sea Ransacked, and wood and field, and pool and rill, Heaven, and Oblivion's bottom: but since he Had not, his pressing purpose to fulfil, Her dragon and her car, the unwearied knight Pursued the missing maid as best he might.

IV Through France he sought her, and will seek her through The realms of Italy and of Almayn, And thence through the Castiles, both old and new, So passing into Libya out of Spain. While bold Orlando has this plan in view, He hears, or thinks he hears, a voice complain: He forward spurs, and sees on mighty steed A warrior trot before him on the mead;

V Who in his arms a captive damsel bears, Sore grieving, and across the pommel laid; She weeps and struggles, and the semblance wears Of cruel woe, and ever calls for aid Upon Anglantes' prince; and now appears To him, as he surveys the youthful maid, She, for whom, night and day, with ceaseless pain, Inside and out, he France had searched in vain.

VI I say not is, but that she to the sight Seems the Angelica he loves so dear. He who is lady-love and goddess' flight Beholds, borne off in such afflicted cheer, Impelled by fury foul, and angry spite, Calls back with horrid voice the cavalier; Calls back the cavalier, and threats in vain, And Brigliadoro drives with flowing rein.

VII That felon stops not, nor to him replies, On his great gain intent, his glorious prey; And with such swiftness through the greenwood hies, Wind would not overtake him on his way. The one pursues while him the other flies, And with lament resounds the thicket gray. They issue in a spacious mead, on which Appears a lofty mansion, rare and rich.

VIII Of various marbles, wrought with subtle care, Is the proud palace. He who fast in hold Bears off upon his arm the damsel fair, Sore pricking, enters at a gate of gold. Nor Brigliador is far behind the pair, Backed by Orlando, angry knight and bold. Entering, around Orlando turns his eyes, Yet neither cavalier nor damsel spies.

IX He suddenly dismounts, and thundering fares Through the inmost palace, seeking still his foe, And here and there in restless rage repairs, Till he has seen each bower, each galleried row; With the same purpose he ascends the stairs, Having first vainly searched each room below. Nor spends less labour, on his task intent, Above, than he beneath had vainly spent.

X Here beds are seen adorned with silk and gold; Nor of partition aught is spied or wall: For these, and floor beneath, throughout that hold, Are hid by curtains and by carpets all. Now here, now there, returns Orlando bold, Nor yet can glad his eyes, in bower or hall, With the appearance of the royal maid, Or the foul thief by whom she was conveyed.

XI This while, as here and there in fruitless pain He moves, oppressed with thought and trouble sore, Gradasso, Brandimart, and him of Spain, Ferrau, he finds, with Sacripant and more; Who ever toiling, like himself, in vain Above, that building, and beneath explore, And as they wander, curse with one accord The malice of the castle's viewless lord.

XII All in pursuit of the offender speed, And upon him some charge of robbery lay: One knight complains that he has stolen his steed, One that he has purloined his lady gay. Other accuses him of other deed: And thus within the enchanted cage they stay, Nor can depart; while in the palace pent, Many have weeks and months together spent.

XIII Roland, when he round that strange dome had paced Four times or six, still vainly seeking, said Within himself, at last, "I here might waste My time and trouble, still in vain delayed, While haply her the robber whom I chased Has far away, through other gate conveyed." So thinking, from the house he issued out Into the mead which girt the dome about.

XIV While Roland wanders round the sylvan Hall, Still holding close his visage to the ground, To see if recent print or trace withal Can, right or left, upon the turf be found, He from a neighbouring window hears a call, And looks, and thinks he hears that voice's sound, And thinks he sees the visage by which he Was so estranged from what he wont to be.

XV He thinks he hears Angelica, and she "Help, help!" entreating cries, and weeping sore, "More than for life and soul, alas! of thee Protection for my honour I implore. Then shall it in my Roland's presence be Ravished by this foul robber? Oh! before Me to such miserable fate you leave, Let me from your own hand my death receive!"

XVI These words repeated once, and yet again, Made Roland through each chamber, far and near, Return with passion, and with utmost pain; But tempered with high hope. Sometimes the peer Stopt in his search and heard a voice complain, Which seemed to be Angelica's: if here The restless warrior stand, it sounds from there, And calls for help he knows not whence nor where,

XVII Returning to Rogero, left, I said, When through a gloomy path, upon his steed, Following the giant and the dame who fled, He from the wood had issued on the mead; I say that he arrived where Roland dread Arrived before him, if I rightly read. The giant through the golden portal passed, Rogero close behind, who followed fast.

XVIII As soon as he his foot has lifted o'er The threshold, he through court and gallery spies; Nor sees the giant or the lady more, And vainly glances here and there his eyes. He up and down returns with labour sore, Yet not for that his longing satisfies; Nor can imagine where the felon thief Has hid himself and dame in space so brief.

XIX After four times or five he so had wound Above, below, through bower and gallery fair, He yet returned, and, having nothing found, Searched even to the space beneath the stair. At length, in hope they in the woodlands round Might be, he sallied; but the voice, which there Roland recalled, did him no less recall, And made as well return within the Hall.

XX One voice, one shape, which to Anglantes' peer Seemed his Angelica, beseeching aid. Seemed to Rogero Dordogne's lady dear. Who him a truant to himself had made: If with Gradasso, or with other near He spake, of those who through the palace strayed. To all of them the vision, seen apart, Seemed that which each had singly most at heart.

XXI This was a new and unwonted spell, Which the renowned Atlantes had composed, That in this toil, this pleasing pain, might dwell So long Rogero, by these walls enclosed, From him should pass away the influence fell, — Influence which him to early death exposed. Though vain his magic tower of steel, and vain Alcina's art, Atlantes plots again.

XXII Not only he, but others who stood high For valour, and in France had greatest fame, That by their hands Rogero might not die, Brought here by old Atlantes' magic came: While these in the enchanted mansion lie, That food be wanting not to knight or dame, He has supplied the dome throughout so well, That all the inmates there in plenty dwell.

XXIII But to Angelica return we, who Now of that ring so wondrous repossessed, (Which, in her mouth, concealed the maid from view, Preserved from spell when it the finger pressed,) Was in the mountain-cavern guided to Whatever needed, viands, mare, and vest, And had conceived the project to pursue Her way to her fair Indian realm anew.

XXIV King Sacripant, or Roland, willingly The damsel would have taken for her guide; Not that, propitious to their wishes, she (Averse from both) inclined to either side; But, since her eastern journey was to be Through town and city, scattered far and wide, She needed company, and ill had found More trusty guides than these for such a round.

XXV Now this, now that she sought with fruitless care, Before she lit on either warrior's trace, By city or by farm, now here, now there, In forest now, and now in other place. Fortune, at length, where caged with Roland are Ferrau and Sacripant, directs her chase; Rogero, with Gradasso fierce, and more, Noosed with strange witcheries by Atlantes hoar.

XXVI She enters, hidden from the enchanter's eyes, And by the ring concealed, examines all; And Roland there, and Sacripant espies, Intent to seek her vainly through the Hall; And with her image cheating both, descries Atlantes old. The damsel doubts withal Which of the two to take, and long revolves This in her doubtful thought, nor well resolves.

XXVII She knows not which with her will best accord, The Count Orlando or Circassia's knight. As of most powers, her would Rogero ward In passage perilous, with better might. But should she make the peer her guide, her lord, She knew not if her champion she could slight, If him she would depress with altered cheer, Or into France send back the cavalier:

XXVIII But Sacripant at pleasure could depose, Though him she had uplifted to the sky. Hence him alone she for her escort chose, And feigned to trust in his fidelity. The ring she from her mouth withdraws, and shows Her face, unveiled to the Circassian's eye: She thought to him alone; but fierce Ferrau And Roland came upon the maid, and saw.

XXIX Ferrau and Roland came upon the maid; For one and the other champion equally Within the palace and without it strayed In quest of her, who was their deity. And now, no longer by the enchantment stayed, Each ran alike towards the dame, for she Had placed the ring upon her hand anew, Which old Atlantes' every scheme o'erthrew.

XXX Helm on the head and corselet on the breast Of both the knights, of whom I sing, was tied; By night or day, since they into this rest Had entered, never doffed and laid aside: For such to wear were easy as a vest, To these, so wont the burden to abide. As well was armed, except with iron masque, Ferrau, who wore not, nor would wear, a casque.

XXXI Till he had that erst wrested by the peer, Orlando, from the brother of Troyane; For so had sworn the Spanish cavalier, What time he Argalia's helm in vain Sought in the brook; yet though the count was near, Has not stretched forth his hand the prize to gain. For so it was, that neither of the pair Could recognise the other knight while there.

XXXII Upon the enchanted dome lay such a spell, That they from one another were concealed; They doffed not, night nor day, the corselet's shell, Not sword, nor even put aside the shield. Saddled, with bridle hanging at the sell, Their steeds were feeding, ready for the field, Within a chamber, near the palace door, With straw and barley heaped in plenteous store.

XXXIII Nor might nor mean in old Atlantes lies To stop the knights from mounting, who repair To their good steeds, to chase the bright black eyes, The fair vermillion cheeks and golden hair Of the sweet damsel, who before them flies, And goads to better speed her panting mare; Ill pleased the three assembled to discern, Though haply she had taken each in turn.

XXXIV And when these from the magic palace she Had ticed so far, that she no more supposed The warriors to the wicked fallacy Of the malign enchanter were exposed, The ring, which more than once from misery Had rescued her, she 'twixt her lips enclosed, Hence from their sight she vanished in a thought, And left them wondering there, like men distraught.

XXXV Although she first the scheme had entertained Roland or Sacripant to have released, To guide her thither, where her father reigned, King Galaphron, who ruled i' the farthest East, The aid of both she suddenly disdained, And in an instant from her project ceased; And deemed, without more debt to count or king, In place of either knight sufficed the ring.

XXXVI In haste, they through the forest, here and there, So scorned of her, still gaze with stupid face; Like questing hound which loses sight of hare Or fox, of whom he late pursued the trace, Into close thicket, ditch, or narrow lair, Escaping from the keen pursuer's chase. Meantime their ways the wanton Indian queen Observes, and at their wonder laughs unseen.

XXXVII In the mid wood, where they the maid did lose, Was but a single pathway, left or right; Which they believed the damsel could not choose But follow, when she vanished from their sight. Ferrau halts not, and Roland fast pursues, Nor Sacripant less plies the rowels bright. Angelica, this while, retrains her steed, And follows the three warriors with less speed.

XXXVIII When pricking thus they came to where the way Was in the forest lost, with wood o'ergrown, And had begun the herbage to survey For print of recent footsteps, up and down, The fierce Ferrau, who might have borne away From all that ever proudest were, the crown, With evil countenance, to the other two Turned him about, and shouted "Whence are you?"

XXXIX "Turn back or take another road, save here, In truth, you covet to be slain by me. Nor when I chase or woo my lady dear, Let any think I bear with company." And — "What more could he say, sir cavalier," (Orlando cried to Sacripant) "if we Were known for the two basest whores that pull And reel from spindle-staff the matted wool?"

XL Then turning to Ferrau,, "But that thine head, Thou brutish sot, as I behold, is bare, If thy late words were ill or wisely said, Thou should'st perceive, before we further fare." To him Ferrau: "For that which breeds no dread In me, why should'st thou take such sovereign care? What I have said unhelmed will I prove true, Here, single as I am, on both of you."