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Orlando Furioso

Chapter 23: CANTO 23
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About This Book

A sprawling Renaissance epic weaves martial campaigns, courtly love, and fantastic adventure into an episodic sequence of cantos. Knights pursue honor, desire, and destiny across enchanted woods, besieged cities, and remote islands while sorcery and trickery reshape contests and alliances. One thread follows a celebrated warrior driven to rage and madness by obsessive love; another traces a foretold union between a valiant woman and a noble pagan that propels quests, rescues, and magical impediments. Comic digressions, dreamlike voyages, and moral puzzles puncture heroic conventions as themes of fate, chivalry, conversion, and the instability of desire recirculate through interlaced tales.

  XIII
  That robber did not let the courser strain
  At speed, or he had from the warrior shot;
  But loosening now and tightening now the rein,
  Fled at a gallop or a steady trot.
  From the deep forest issued forth the twain,
  After long round, and reached in fine the spot
  Where so many illustrious lords were shent:
  Worse prisoners they than if in prison pent!

  XIV
  On Rabican, who with the wind might race,
  The villain sped, within the enchanter's won.
  Impeded by his shield and iron case,
  Parforce Astolpho far behind him run;
  Yet there arrives as well, but every trace
  Of what the warrior had pursued is gone.
  He neither Rabican nor thief can meet,
  And vainly rolls his eyes and plies his feet.

  XV
  He plies his feet, and searches still in vain
  Throughout the house, hall, bower, or galleried rows:
  Yet labours evermore, with fruitless pain
  And care, to find the treacherous churl; nor knows
  Where he can have secreted Rabicane,
  Who every other animal outgoes:
  And vainly searches all day the dome about,
  Above, below, within it, and without.

  XVI
  He, wearied and confused with wandering wide,
  Perceived the place was by enchantment wrought,
  And of the book he carried at his side,
  By Logistilla given in India, thought;
  Bestowed, should new enchantment him betide,
  That needful succour might therein be sought.
  He to the index turns, and quickly sees
  What pages show the proper remedies.

  XVII
  I' the book, of that enchanted house at large
  Was written, and in this was taught the way
  To foil the enchanter, and to set at large
  The different prisoners, subject to his sway.
  Of these illusions and these frauds in charge,
  A spirit pent beneath the threshold lay;
  And the stone raised which kept him fast below,
  With him the palace into smoke would go.

  XVIII
  Astolpho with desire to bring to end
  An enterprise so passing fair, delays
  No more, but to the task his force does bend,
  And prove how much the heavy marble weighs.
  As old Atlantes sees the knight intend
  To bring to scorn his art and evil ways,
  Suspicious of the ill which may ensue,
  He moves to assail him with enchantments new.

  XIX
  He, with his spells and shapes of devilish kind,
  Makes the duke different from his wont appear;
  To one a giant, and to one a hind,
  To other an ill-visaged cavalier;
  Each, in the form which in the thicket blind
  The false enchanter wore, beholds the peer.
  So that they all, with purpose to have back
  What the magician took, the duke attack.

  XX
  The Child, Gradasso, Iroldo, Bradamant,
  Prasildo, Brandimart, and many more,
  All, cheated by this new illusion, pant
  To slay the English baron, angered sore;
  But he abased their pride and haughty vaunt,
  Who straight bethought him of the horn be bore.
  But for the succour of its echo dread,
  They, without fail, had laid Astolpho dead.

  XXI
  But he no sooner has the bugle wound
  And poured a horrid larum, than in guise
  Of pigeons at the musquet's scaring sound,
  The troop of cavaliers affrighted flies.
  No less the necromancer starts astound,
  No less he from his den in panic hies;
  Troubled and pale, and hurrying evermore
  Till out of hearing of the horrid roar

  XXII
  The warder fled; with him his prisoned train,
  And many steeds as well are fled and gone;
  (These more than rope is needed to restrain)
  Who after their astounded masters run,
  Scared by the sound; nor cat nor mouse remain,
  Who seem to hear in it, "Lay on, lay on."
  Rabican with the rest had broke his bands,
  But that he fell into Astolpho's hands.

  XXIII
  He, having chased the enchanter Moor away,
  Upraised the heavy threshold from the ground;
  Beneath which, figures and more matters lay,
  That I omit; desirous to confound
  The spell which did the magic dome upstay,
  The duke made havock of whate'er he found,
  As him the book he carried taught to do:
  And into mist and smoke all past from view.

  XXIV
  There he found fastened by a golden chain
  Rogero's famous courser, him I say
  Given by the wizard, that to the domain
  Of false Alcina him he might convey:
  On which, equipt with Logistilla's rein,
  To France Rogero had retraced his way,
  And had from Ind to England rounded all
  The right-hand side of the terrestrial ball.

  XXV
  I know not if you recollect how tied
  To a tree Rogero left his rein, the day
  Galaphron's naked daughter from his side
  Vanished, and him did with that scorn appay.
  The courser, to his wonder who espied,
  Returned to him whom he was used to obey;
  Beneath the old enchanter's care to dwell,
  And stayed with him till broken was the spell.

  XXVI
  At nought Astolpho could more joyous be
  Than this; of all things fortunate the best:
  In that the hippogryph so happily
  Offered himself; that he might scower the rest,
  (As much he coveted) of land and sea,
  And in few days the ample world invest.
  Him well he knew, how fit for his behoof;
  For of his feats he had elsewhere made proof.

  XXVII
  Him he that day in India proved, when sped
  He was by sage Melissa, from the reign
  Of that ill woman who him, sore bested,
  Had changed from man to myrtle on the plain;
  Had marked and noted how his giddy head
  Was formed by Logistilla to the rein;
  And saw how well instructed by her care
  Rogero was, to guide him every where.

  XXVIII
  Minded to take the hippogryph, he flung
  The saddle on him, which lay near, and bitted
  The steed, by choosing, all the reins among,
  This part or that, until his mouth was fitted:
  For in that place were many bridles hung,
  Belonging to the coursers which flitted.
  And now alone, intent upon his flight,
  The thought of Rabicane detained the knight.

  XXIX
  Good cause he had to love that Rabicane,
  For better horse was not to run with lance,
  And him had he from the remotest reign
  Of India ridden even into France:
  After much thought, he to some friend would fain
  Present him, rather than so, left to chance,
  Abandon there the courser, as a prey,
  To the first stranger who should pass that way.

  XXX
  He stood upon the watch if he could view
  Some hunter in the forest, or some hind,
  To whom he might commit the charge, and who
  Might to some city lead the horse behind.
  He waited all that day and till the new
  Had dawned, when, while the twilight yet was blind,
  He thought he saw, as he expecting stood,
  A cavalier approaching through the wood.

  XXXI
  But it behoves that, ere the rest I say,
  I Bradamant and good Rogero find.
  After the horn had ceased, and, far away,
  The beauteous pair had left the dome behind,
  Rogero looked, and knew what till that day
  He had seen not, by Atlantes rendered blind.
  Atlantes had effected by his power,
  They should not know each other till that hour.

  XXXII
  Rogero looks on Bradamant, and she
  Looks on Rogero in profound surprise
  That for so many days that witchery
  Had so obscurred her altered mind and eyes.
  Rejoiced, Rogero clasps his lady free,
  Crimsoning with deeper than the rose's dyes,
  And his fair love's first blossoms, while he clips
  The gentle damsel, gathers from her lips.

  XXXIII
  A thousand times they their embrace renew,
  And closely each is by the other prest;
  While so delighted are those lovers two,
  Their joys are ill contained within their breast.
  Deluded by enchantments, much they rue
  That while they were within the wizard's rest,
  They should not e'er have one another known,
  And have so many happy days foregone.

  XXXIV
  The gentle Bradamant, who was i' the vein
  To grant whatever prudent virgin might,
  To solace her desiring lover's pain,
  So that her honour should receive no slight;
  — If the last fruits he of her love would gain,
  Nor find her ever stubborn, bade the knight,
  Her of Duke Aymon through fair mean demand;
  But be baptized before he claimed her hand.

  XXXV
  Rogero good, who not alone to be
  A Christian for the love of her were fain,
  As his good sire had been, and anciently
  His grandsire and his whole illustrious strain,
  But for her pleasure would immediately
  Resign whatever did of life remain,
  Says, "I not only, if 'tis thy desire,
  Will be baptized by water, but by fire."

  XXXVI
  Then on his way to be baptized he hied,
  That he might next espouse the martial may,
  With Bradamant; who served him as a guide
  To Vallombrosa's fane, an abbey gray,
  Rich, fair, nor less religious, and beside,
  Courteous to whosoever passed that way;
  And they encountered, issuing from the chase,
  A woman, with a passing woful face.

  XXXVII
  Rogero, as still courteous, still humane
  To all, but woman most, when he discerned
  Her dainty visage furrowed by a rain
  Of lovely tears, sore pitied her, and burned
  With the desire to know her grievous pain;
  And having to the mournful lady turned,
  Besought her, after fair salute, to show
  What cause had made her eyes thus overflow.

  XXXVIII
  And she, uplifting their moist rays and bright,
  Most kindly to the inquiring Child replied;
  And of the cause of her unhappy plight,
  Him, since he sought it, fully satisfied.
  "Thou hast to understand, O gentle knight,
  My visage is so bathed with tears," she cried,
  "In pity to a youth condemned to die
  This very day, within a town hard by.

  XXXIX
  "Loving a gentle lady and a gay,
  The daughter of Marsilius, king of Spain,
  And feigning, veiled in feminine array,
  The modest roll of eye and girlish strain,
  With her each night the amorous stripling lay,
  Nor any had suspicion of the twain:
  But nought so hidden is, but searching eye
  In the long run the secret will espy.

  XL
  "One first perceived it, and then spoke with two,
  Those two with more, till to the king 'twas said;
  Of whom but yesterday a follower true
  Gave order to surprise the pair in bed,
  And in the citadel the prisoners new,
  To separate dungeons in that fortress led;
  Nor think I that enough of day remains
  To save the lover from his cruel pains.

  XLI
  "I fled, not to behold such cruelty,
  For they alive the wretched youth will burn;
  Nor think I aught could more afflicting be
  Than such fair stripling's torment to discern,
  Or that hereafter thing can pleasure me
  So much, but that it will to trouble turn,
  If memory retrace the cruel flame
  Which preyed upon his fair and dainty frame."

  XLII
  Touched deeply, Bradamant his danger hears,
  In heart sore troubled at the story shown;
  As anxious for the lover, it appears,
  As if he were a brother of her own:
  Nor certes wholly causeless are her fears,
  As in an after verse will be made known,
  Then, to Rogero: "Him to keep from harms,
  Meseems we worthily should turn our arms."

  XLIII
  And to that melancholy damsel said:
  "Place us but once within the walls, and I,
  So that the youth be not already dead,
  Will be your warrant that he shall not die."
  Rogero, who the kindly bosom read
  Of Bradamant, still full of piety,
  Felt himself but all over with desire
  To snatch the unhappy stripling from the fire.

  XLIV
  And to the maid, whose troubled face apears
  Bathed with a briny flood, "Why wait we? — need
  Is here of speedy succour, not of tears.
  Do you but where the youth is prisoned lead;
  Him from a thousand swords, a thousand spears,
  We vow to save; so it be done with speed.
  But haste you, lest too tardy be our aid,
  And he be burnt, which succour is delayed."

  XLV
  The haughty semblance and the lofty say
  Of these, who with such wondrous daring glowed,
  That hope, which long had ceased to be her stay,
  Again upon the grieving dame bestowed:
  But, for she less the distance of the way
  Dreaded, than interruption of the road,
  Lest they, through this, should take that path in vain,
  The damsel stood suspended and in pain.

  XLVI
  Then said: "If to the place our journey lay
  By the highroad, which is both straight and plain,
  That we in time might reach it, I should say,
  Before the fire was lit; but we must strain
  By path so foul and crooked, that a day
  To reach the city would suffice with pain;
  And when, alas! we thither shall have sped,
  I fear that we shall find the stripling dead."

  XLVII
  "And wherefore take we not the way most near?"
  Rogero answers; and the dame replies,
  "Because fast by where we our course should steer,
  A castle of the Count of Poictiers lies:
  Where Pinnabel for dame and cavalier
  Did, three days past, a shameful law devise;
  Than whom more worthless living wight is none,
  The Count Anselmo d'Altaripa's son.

  XLVIII
  "No cavalier or lady by that rest
  Without some noted scorn and injury goes;
  Both of their coursers here are dispossest,
  And knight his arms and dame her gown foregoes.
  No better cavaliers lay lance in rest,
  Nor have for years in France against their foes,
  Than four, who for Sir Pinnabel have plight
  Their promise to maintain the castle's right.

  XLIX
  "Whence first arose the usage, which began
  But three days since, you now, sir knight, shall hear;
  And shall the cause, if right or evil, scan,
  Which moved the banded cavaliers to swear.
  So ill a lady has the Castellan,
  So wayward, that she is without a peer:
  Who, on a day, as with the count she went,
  I know not whither, by a knight was shent.

  L
  "This knight, as flouted by that bonnibel,
  For carrying on his croup an ancient dame,
  Encountered with her champion Pinnabel,
  Of overweening pride and little fame:
  Him he o'erturned, made alight as well,
  And put her to the proof, if sound or lame;
  — Left her on foot, and had that woman old
  In the dismounted damsel's garment stoled.

  LI
  "She, who remained on foot, in fell despite,
  Greedy of vengeance, and athirst for ill,
  Leagued with the faithless Pinnabel, a wight
  All evil prompt to further and fulfil,
  Says she shall never rest by day nor night,
  Nor ever know a happy hour, until
  A thousand knights and dames are dispossest
  Of courser, and of armour, and of vest.

  LII
  "Four puissant knights arrived that very day
  It happened, at a place of his, and who
  Had all of them from regions far away
  Come lately to those parts: so many true
  And valiant warriors, skilled in martial play,
  Our age has seen not. These the goodly crew:
  Guido the savage, but a stripling yet,
  Gryphon, and Aquilant, and Sansonet!

  LIII
  "Them at the fortilage, of which I told,
  Sir Pinnabel received with semblance fair,
  Next seized the ensuing night the warriors bold
  In bed, nor loosed, till he had made them swear
  That (he such period fixt) they in his hold
  Should be his faithful champions for a year
  And month; and of his horse and arms deprive
  Whatever cavalier should there arrive.

  LIV
  "And any damsel whom the stranger bore
  With him, dismount, and strip her of her vest.
  So, thus surprised, the warlike prisoners swore;
  So were constrained to observe the cruel hest,
  Though grieved and troubled: nor against the four,
  It seems, can any joust, but vails his crest.
  Knight infinite have come, but one and all,
  Afoot and without arms have left that Hall.

  LV
  "Their order is, who from the castle hies,
  The first by lot, shall meet the foe alone,
  But if he find a champion of such guise
  As keeps the sell, while he himself is thrown,
  The rest must undertake the enterprise,
  Even to the death, against that single one,
  Ranged in a band. If such each single knight,
  Imagine the assembled warriors' might!

  LVI
  "Nor stands it with our haste, which all delay,
  All let forbids, that you beside that tower
  Be forced to stop and mingle in the fray:
  For grant that you be conquerors in the stower,
  (And as your presence warrants well, you may,)
  'Tis not a thing concluded in an hour.
  And if all day he wait our succour, I
  Much fear the stripling in the fire will die."

  LVII
  "Regard we not this hindrance of our quest,"
  Rogero cried, "But do we what we may!
  Let HIM who rules the heavens ordain the rest,
  Or Fortune, if he leave it in her sway;
  To you shall by this joust be manifest
  If we can aid the youth; for whom to-day
  They on a ground so causeless and so slight,
  As you to us rehearsed, the fire will light."

  LVIII
  Rogero ceased; and in the nearest way
  The damsel put the pair without reply:
  Nor these beyond three miles had fared, when they
  Reached bridge and gate, the place of forfeitry,
  Of horse and arms and feminine array,
  With peril sore of life. On turret high,
  Upon first sight of them, a sentinel
  Beat twice upon the castle's larum-bell.

  LIX
  And lo, in eager hurry from the gate
  An elder trotting on hackney made!
  And he approaching cried, "Await, await!
  — Hola! halt, sirs, for here a fine is paid:
  And I to you the usage shall relate,
  If this has not to you before been said."
  And to the three forthwith began to tell
  The use established there by Pinnabel.

  LX
  He next proceeds, as he had wont before
  To counsel other errant cavalier.
  "Unrobe the lady," (said the elder hoar,)
  "My sons, and leave your steeds and martial geer;
  Nor put yourselves in peril, and with four
  Such matchless champions hazard the career.
  Clothes, arms, and coursers every where are rife;
  But not to be repaired is loss of life."

  LXI
  " — No more!" (Rogero said) "No more! for I
  Am well informed of all, and hither speed
  With the intention, here by proof to try
  If, what my heart has vouched, I am in deed.
  For sign or threat I yield not panoply,
  If nought beside I hear, nor vest nor steed.
  And this my comrade, I as surely know,
  These for mere words as little will forego.

  LXII
  "But let me face to face, by Heaven, espy
  Those who would take my horse and arms away;
  For we have yet beyond that hill to hie,
  And little time can here afford to stay."
  "Behold the man," that ancient made reply,
  "Clear of the bridge!" — Nor did in this missay;
  For thence a warrior pricked, who, powdered o'er
  With snowy flowers, a crimson surcoat wore.

  LXIII
  Bradamant for long time with earnest prayer,
  For courtesy the good Rogero prest,
  To let her from his sell the warrior bear,
  Who with white flowers had purfled o'er his vest.
  But moved him not; and to Rogero's share
  Must leave, and do herself, what liked him best.
  He willed the whole emprize his own should be,
  And Bradamant should stand apart to see.

  LXIV
  The Child demanded of that elder, who
  Was he that from the gate first took his way,
  And he, " 'Tis Sansonet; of crimson hue,
  I know his surcoat, with white flowers gay."
  Without a word exchanged, the warlike two
  Divide the ground, and short is the delay.
  For they against each other, levelling low
  Their spears, and hurrying sore their coursers, go.

  LXV
  This while had issued from the fortress near,
  With many footmen girt, Sir Pinnabel,
  All ready to despoil the cavalier,
  Who in the warlike joust should void is sell.
  At one another spurred in bold career
  The knights, with their huge lances rested well.
  Up to the points nigh equal was each stick,
  Of stubborn native oak, and two palms thick.

  LXVI
  Sansonet, of such staves, above five pair
  Had made them sever from the living stock,
  In neighboring wood, and bade his followers bear
  Two of them hither, destined for that shock:
  Such truncheons to withstand, well needed-were
  A shield and cuirass of the diamond rock.
  One he had made them give his foe, and one
  He kept himself, the present course to run.

  LXVII
  With these which might the solid anvil bore,
  (So well their ends were pointed) there and here,
  Each aiming at the shield his foeman wore,
  The puissant warriors shocked in mid career.
  That of Rogero, wrought with magic lore,
  By fiends, had little from the stroke to fear:
  I of the buckler speak Atlantes made,
  Of whose rare virtues I whilere have said.

  LXVIII
  I have already said, the enchanted light
  Strikes with such force on the beholder's eyes,
  That, at the shield's discovery, every wight
  Is blinded, or on earth half lifeless lies.
  Wherefore, well mantled with a veil, the knight
  Keeps it, unless some passing need surprise:
  Impassive is the shield as well believed,
  Since it no damage in the shock received.

  LXIX
  The other by less skilful artist wrought,
  Did not so well that weightless blow abide,
  But, as if smit by thunder, in a thought,
  Gave way before the steel, and opened wide;
  Gave way before the griding steel, which sought
  The arm beneath, by this ill fortified:
  So that Sir Sansonet was smote, and reeled,
  In his departure, unhorsed upon the field.

  LXX
  And this was the first comrade of the train
  That of the tower maintained the usage fell,
  Who there had failed another's spoil to gain,
  And voided in the joust his knightly sell.
  Who laughs, as well will sometimes have to plain,
  And find that Fortune will by fits rebel.
  Anew the warder on his larum beats,
  And to the other knights the sign repeats.

  LXXI
  This while Sir Pinnabello had drawn near
  To Bradamant, and prayed that she would shew
  What warrior had his knight in the career
  Smith with such prowess. That the guerdon due
  To his ill deeds might wait the cavalier,
  God's justice that ill-doer thither drew
  On the same courser, which before the Cheat
  From Bradamant had taken by deceit.

  LXXII
  'Twas now exactly the eighth month was ended,
  Since, if you recollect, upon his way,
  The faithless Maganzese, with whom she wended,
  Cast into Merlin's tomb the martial may;
  When her a bough, which fell with her, defended
  From death, or her good Fortune, rather say;
  And Pinnabel bore off her courser brave,
  Deeming the damsel buried in the cave.

  LXXIII
  The courser, and, through him, the cavalier,
  Bradamant knew to be the wicked Count,
  And, having heard him, and perused him near,
  With more attentive eye and front to front —
  "This is the man," (the damsel said) " 'tis clear,
  Who erst designed me outrage and affront.
  Lo! him the traitor's sin doth hither speed,
  Of all his treasons to receive the meed."

  LXXIV
  To threaten him with vengeance, and to lay
  Hands on her sword and charge him now, was done
  All in a thought; but first she barred the way
  By which he might his fortilage have won.
  To earth himself like fox, in his dismay,
  Sir Pinnabel has every hope foregone.
  He screaming loud, nor ever making head
  Against the damsel, through the forest fled.

  LXXV
  Pale and dismayed his spurs the caitiff plied
  Whose last hope of escape in flight was found;
  While with her ready sword, Dordona's pride
  Was at his flank, and prest him in his round,
  Hunting him close and ever fast beside:
  Loud is the uproar, and the woods resound.
  Nothing of this is at the castle kenned,
  For only to Rogero all attend.

  LXXVI
  The other three, who from the fortress came,
  This while had issued forth upon their way,
  And brought with them the ill-accustomed dame,
  Who made wayfarers that ill use obey.
  In all (who rather than prolong with blame
  Their life, would choose to perish in the fray),
  The kindling visage burns, and heart is woe,
  That to assail one man so many go.

  LXXVII
  The cruel courtezan by whom was made,
  And by whose hest maintained, that evil rite,
  Reminds the warriors that they are arrayed
  By oath and pact, to avenge her in the fight.
  "If with this lance alone thy foes are laid
  On earth, why should I band with other knight?"
  (Guido the savage said) "and, if I lie,
  Off with my head, for I consent to die."

  LXXVIII
  So Aquilant, so Gryphon. For the twain
  Singly against a single foe would run;
  And rather would be taken, rather slain,
  Than he should be assailed by more than one.
  To them exclaimed the woman: "Why in vain
  Waste you so many words, where fruit is none?
  I brought you here that champion's arms to take,
  Not other laws and other pacts to make.

  LXXIX
  "You should have offered, when in prison-cell,
  This your excuse; which now too late is made.
  'Tis yours the law's observance to compel,
  And not with lying tongue your oath evade."
  " — Behold! the arms; behold, with a new sell
  And cloth, the goodly steed!" Rogero said,
  "Behold with these, as well, the damsel's vest!
  If these you covet, why your course arrest?"

  LXXX
  She of the castle presses on this side,
  On that Rogero rates, and calls them on;
  Till they parforce, t'wards him, together hied:
  But red with shame, are to the encounter gone.
  Foremost appeared 'mid those three knights of pride,
  Of Burgundy's good marquis either son.
  But Guido, who was borne on heavier steed,
  Came at some interval, with tardier speed.

  LXXXI
  With the same lance with which he overbore
  Sir Sansonet, Rogero came to fight;
  Well-covered with the shield which heretofore
  Atlantes used on Pyrenean height;
  I say the enchanted buckler, which, too sore
  For human sufferance, dazed the astonished sight:
  To which Rogero, as a last resource,
  In the most pressing peril had recourse.

  LXXXII
  Although three times alone the Child was fain
  (And, certes sore bested) this to display;
  Twice when he from the wanton Fairy's reign
  Was to that soberer region on his way!
  Last, when the unsated Orc upon the main,
  By this astounded, 'mid the sea-foam lay;
  Which would have fed upon the naked maid,
  So cruel to the Child who brought her aid.

  LXXXIII
  Save these three times, he has preserved the shield
  Beneath its veil, but covered in such wise
  That it may quickly be to sight revealed,
  If he in need of its good succour lies.
  With this, as said before, he came a-field
  As boldly, as if those three enemies,
  Who were arrayed before him, had appeared
  Yet less than little children to be feared.

  LXXXIV
  Rogero shocked the valiant Gryphon, where
  The border of the buckler joined the sight,
  Who seemed as he would fall, now here, now there,
  And, from his courser far, last fell outright.
  He at the shield had aimed, but smote not fair
  The mark; and (for Rogero's orb was bright
  And smooth) the hissing weapon slipt, and wrought
  Other effect than was in Gryphon's thought.

  LXXXV
  It rent and tore the veil which served to hide
  The lightning's fearful and enchanted rays;
  Which, without blinded eyes, can none abide
  Upright, nor refuge is for them who gaze.
  Aquilant, who was at his brother's side,
  Tore off the rest, and made the buckler blaze:
  The splendour struck the valiant brothers blind,
  And Guido in their rear, who spurred behind.

  LXXXVI
  These here, or there, to earth astonished reel;
  Nor eyes alone are dazzled by the light,
  But every sense astounds the flaming steel.
  Unconscious of the issue of the fight,
  Rogero turned his horse, and, in the wheel,
  Handled his sword, so good to thrust and smite;
  And none descried his fury to oppose;
  For in the charge dismounted were his foes.

  LXXXVII
  The knights, together with the footmen all,
  And women, who had from the castle hied,
  Nor less the coursers panting with their fall,
  As if about to die, the warrior spied.
  He wondered first, and next perceived the pall
  Of silk was handing down on the left side;
  I say the pall, in which he used to lap
  His shield, the evil cause of that mishap.

  LXXXVIII
  He quickly turns, and, turning, rolls his eyes,
  In hopes to view his well-loved martial maid;
  And thitherward, without delay, he hies
  Where, when the joust began, the damsel stayed.
  Not finding her, it is the Child's surmise
  That she is gone to bear the stripling aid;
  Fearing he may be burnt, while they their journey
  So long delay, retarded by that tourney.

  LXXXIX
  He saw the damsel, stretched among the rest
  Who him had thither guided: as she lay,
  He took and placed her, yet with sleep opprest,
  Before him, and, sore troubled, rode away.
  He with a mantle, which above her vest
  She wore, concealed the enchanted buckler's ray:
  And to the maid restored, when 'twas concealed,
  Her senses, which were ravished by the shield.

  XC
  Away Rogero posted with the dame,
  And did not date his crimsoned visage raise;
  Since every one, it seemed to him, might blame
  With right that victory, worthy little praise.
  "By what amends can I of such a shame
  (The blushing warrior said) the stain eraze?
  For 'twill be bruited, all my deeds by sleight
  Of magic have been done, and not by might."

  XCI
  As, thinking thus, he journeyed on his way,
  Rogero stumbled upon what he sought;
  For, in the middle of the track, there lay
  A well, within the ground profoundly wrought:
  Whither the thirsty herd, at noon of day,
  Repaired, their paunches with green forage fraught.
  Rogero said, " 'Tis now, must I provide,
  I shame from thee, O shield, no more abide.

  XCII
  "Thee will I keep no more, and this shall be
  Even the last shame which so on me is thrown:"
  The Child, so ending his self-colloquy,
  Dismounting, takes a large and heavy stone;
  Which to the shield he ties, and bodily
  Both to the bottom of the well are gone.
  "Lie buried there for ever, from all eyes,
  And with thee hidden be my shame!" he cries.

  XCIII
  Filled to the brim with water was the well;
  Heavy the stone, and heavy was the shield;
  Nor stopt they till they to the bottom fell,
  By the light, liquid element concealed.
  Fame was not slow the noble act to swell,
  But, wandering wide, the deed in brief revealed,
  And voicing it abroad, with trumpet-sound,
  Told France and Spain and all the countries round.

  XCIV
  When that so strange adventure to the rest
  Of the wide world, from mouth to mouth was blown,
  Knights out of number undertook the quest,
  From neighbouring parts and distant; but unknown
  To all remained the forest which possessed
  The spring wherein the virtuous shield was thrown:
  For she who told the action, would not say
  Where was the well, nor in what land it lay.

  XCV
  Upon Rogero's parting thence, where fell
  The four good champions of that evil law,
  Made by the castle's lord Sir Pinnabel,
  By him discomfited like men of straw,
  — The shield withdrawn — he had removed as well
  The light, which quelled their sight and minds who saw;
  And those, who, like dead men, on earth had lain,
  Had risen, full of wonderment, again.

  XCVI
  Nor any thing throughout that livelong day
  They 'mid themselves but that strange case relate;
  And how it was in that disastrous fray
  Each by the horrid light was quelled, debate.
  While these, discoursing, of the adventure say,
  Tidings are brought of Pinnabello's fate.
  That Pinnabel is dead the warriors hear,
  But learn not who had slain the cavalier.

  XCVII
  Bradamant in close pass, this while, had staid
  The faithless Pinnabel, and sorely prest;
  And many times had buried half her blade
  Within bleeding flanks and heaving breast.
  When of his crimes the forfeit had been paid
  By him, the infected country's curse and pest,
  She from the conscious forest turned away
  With that good steed the thief had made his prey.

  XCVIII
  She would return where she had left the knight,
  But never could make out the road anew;
  And now by valley, now by mountain-height,
  Wandered well-nigh the ample country through.
  Yet could she never (such her fortune's spite)
  Find out the way to join Rogero true.
  Him in another canto I attend
  Who loves the tale, to hear my story's end.

CANTO 23

  ARGUMENT
  Astolpho soars in air. Upon account
  Of Pinnabel is prisoned Scotland's heir:
  By Roland freed, Frontino Rodomont
  Takes from Hippalca, trusted to her care.
  With Mandricardo strives Anglantes' count:
  Who, next, offended by his lady fair,
  Into the fury falls, so strange and fell,
  Which in the world has not a parallel.

  I
  Let each assist the other in his need;
  Seldom good actions go without their due;
  And if their just reward should not succeed,
  At least, nor death, nor shame, nor loss ensue.
  Who wrongs another, the remembered meed
  As well shall have, and soon or later rue.
  That mountains never meet, but that men may,
  And oft encounter, is an ancient say.

  II
  Now mark what chanced to Pinnabel, the event
  Of having borne himself so wickedly:
  He at the last received due punishment,
  Due and deserved by his iniquity.
  And God, who for the most is ill content
  To see the righteous suffer wrongfully,
  Secured the maid from harm, and will secure
  All who from every wickedness are pure.

  III
  Pinnabel deemed he to an end had brought,
  And buried deep in earth, the martial maid;
  Nor weening to behold her more, less thought
  To her his treason's forfeit to have paid.
  Nor profits it the wily traitor ought
  To be among the forts his father swayed.
  For Altaripa here its summit rears,
  Amid rude hills, confining on Poictiers.

  IV
  Anselm in Altaripa held command,
  The count from whom was sprung this evil seed:
  Who, to escape from angry Clermont's hand,
  Of friends and of assistance stood in need.
  At a hill's foot, with her avenging brand,
  Bradamant made the worthless traitor bleed;
  Who found no better succour in the strife
  Than piteous cry and fruitless prayer for life.

  V
  When she has put to death the treacherous peer,
  Who to put her to death had erst intent,
  To seek Rogero she again would steer,
  But that her cruel fate would not consent;
  Which, where the wood was loneliest and most drear,
  To wander by close path the lady sent,
  Until the western sun withdrew his light,
  Abandoning the world above to night.

  VI
  Nor knowing where for shelter she should rove,
  Bradamant in that place resolves to stay,
  Couched on the verdant herbage of the grove;
  And, sleeping, now awaits the dawn of day,
  Now watching Saturn, Venus, Mars, and Jove,
  And the other wandering gods upon their way:
  But, whether waking or to sleep resigned,
  Has aye Rogero present to her mind.

  VII
  With sorrow and repentance oft assailed,
  She from her inmost heart profoundly sighed,
  That Anger over Love should have prevailed.
  "Anger has torn me from my love," (she cried,)
  "Oh! had I made some note, which had availed,
  Thither, whence I set out, my steps to guide,
  When I departed on my ill emprize!
  Sure I was lorn of memory and of eyes!"

  VIII
  These words and others she in mournful strain
  Utters, and broods within her heart on more.
  Meanwhile a wind of sighs, and plenteous rain
  Of tears, are tokens of her anguish sore.
  In the east, at last, expected long in vain,
  The wished for twilight streaked the horizon o'er;
  And she her courser took, which on the ley
  Was feeding, and rode forth to meet the day.

  IX
  Nor far had rode, ere from the greenwood-trees
  She issued, where the dome was erst displayed;
  And many days her with such witcheries
  The evil-minded wizard had delayed.
  Here she Astolpho found, who at full ease
  A bridle for the Hippogryph had made,
  And here was standing, thoughtful and in pain
  To whom he should deliver Rabicane.

  X
  By chance she found him, as the cavalier
  Had from the helm uncased his head to view;
  So that when of the dingy forest clear,
  Fair Bradamant her gentle cousin knew.
  Him from afar she hailed with joyful cheer,
  And now more nigh, to embrace the warrior flew;
  And named herself, and raised her vizor high,
  And let him plainly who she was espy.

  XI
  None could Astolpho have found any where
  With whom to leave his horse with more content,
  As knowing she would guard the steed with care,
  And to his lord on his return present;
  And he believed that Heaven had, in its care,
  Duke Aymon's daughter for this pleasure sent.
  Her was he wont with pleasure aye to see,
  But now with more in his necessity.

  XII
  Embracing twice or thrice the cousins stand,
  Fraternally, each other's neck, and they
  Had of each other's welfare made demand
  With much affection, ere the duke 'gan say;
  "Would I now see the winged people's land,
  Here upon earth I make too long delay."
  And opening to the dame the thought he brewed,
  To her the flying horse Astolpho shewed.

  XIII
  But she scarce marvelled when above the plain
  She saw the rising steed his wings unfold;
  Since upon former time, with mastering rein.
  On him had charged the dame that wizard old;
  And made her eye and eyelid sorely strain,
  So hard she gazed, his movements to behold;
  The day that he bore off, with wonderous range,
  Rogero on his journey, long and strange.

  XIV
  Astolpho says on her he will bestow
  His Rabican; so passing swift of kind,
  That, if the courser started when a bow
  Was drawn, he left the feathered shaft behind;
  And will as well his panoply forego,
  That it may to Mount Alban be consigned:
  And she for him preserve the martial weed;
  Since of his arms he has no present need.

  XV
  Bent, since a course in air was to be flown,
  That he, as best he can, will make him light.
  Yet keeps the sword and horn; although alone
  The horn from every risque might shield the knight:
  But he the lance abandons, which the son
  Of Galaphron was wont to bear in flight;
  The lance, by which whoever in the course
  Was touched, fell headlong hurtling from his horse.

  XVI
  Backed by Astolpho, and ascending slow,
  The hippogryph through yielding aether flew;
  And next the rider stirred the courser so,
  That in a thought he vanished out of view.
  Thus with his pilot does the patron go,
  Fearing the gale and rock, till he is through
  The reefs; then, having left the shore behind,
  Hoists every sail, and shoots before the wind.

  XVII
  Bradamant, when departed was the peer,
  Remained distressed in mind; since in what way
  She knew not her good kinsman's warlike gear
  And courser to Mount Alban to convey.
  For on her heart, which they inflame and tear,
  The warm desire and greedy will yet prey
  To see the Child; whom she to find once more
  At Vallombrosa thought, if not before.

  XVIII
  Here standing in suspense, by chance she spied
  A churl, that came towards her on the plain,
  Who, at her best, Astolpho's armour tied,
  As best he might, and laid on Rabicane;
  She next behind her bade the peasant guide
  (One courser loaded and one loose) the twain.
  Two were the steeds; for she had that before,
  On which his horse from Pinnabel she bore.

  XIX
  To Vallombrosa to direct her way
  She thought, in hopes to find Rogero there:
  But, fearing evermore to go astray,
  Knew not how thither she might best repair.
  The churl had of the country small assay,
  And, sure to be bewildered, wend the pair:
  Yet at a venture thitherward she hies,
  Where she believes the place of meeting lies.

  XX
  She here and there, as she her way pursued,
  Turned, but found none to question of the road;
  She saw at mid-day, issuing from the wood,
  A fort, nor far removed was the abode,
  Which on the summit of a mountain stood,
  And to the lady like Mount Alban showed;
  And was Mount Alban sure; in which repair
  One of her brothers and her mother were.

  XXI
  She, when she recognized the place, became
  Sadder at heart than I have power to say.
  If she delays, discovered is the dame,
  Nor thence will be allowed to wend her way:
  If thence she wends not, of the amorous flame
  Which so consumes her, she will be the prey,
  Nor see Rogero more, nor compass aught
  Which was at Vallombrosa to be wrought.

  XXII
  Some deal she doubted: then to turn her steed,
  Resolved upon Mount Alban's castle near;
  And, for she thence her way could deftly read,
  Her course anew towards the abbey steer.
  But Fortune, good or evil, had decreed
  The maid, before she of the vale was clear,
  Of one of her good brethren should be spied,
  Alardo named, ere she had time to hide.

  XXIII
  He came from billeting the bands which lay
  Dispersed about that province, foot and horse;
  For the surrounding district, to obey
  King Charlemagne, had raised another force.
  Embraces brotherly and friendly say,
  Salutes and kindly cheer, ensue of course;
  And next into Mount Alban, side by side,
  They, communing of many matters, ride.

  XXIV
  Bradamant enters Montalbano's seat,
  Whom Beatrice had mourned, and vainly sought
  Through spacious France: 'Tis here all welcome sweet,
  The kiss and clasp of hand, she holds at nought,
  While her a mother and a brother greet,
  As the enamoured maid compares in thought
  These with the loved Rogero's fond embrace;
  Which time will never from her mind efface.

  XXV
  Because she could not go, one in her stead
  To send to Vallombrosa she devised,
  Who thither in the damsel's name should speed;
  By whom should young Rogero be apprised
  What kept her thence; and prayed, if prayer should need,
  That there he for love would be baptised;
  And next, as was concerned, would intend
  What might their bridal bring to happy end.

  XXVI
  She purposed the same messenger should bear
  As well to her Rogero his good steed;
  Which he was ever wonted to hold dear,
  Worthily dear; for sure so stout at need
  And beauteous was no courser, far or near,
  In land of Christian or of Paynim creed,
  In occupation of the Gaul or Moor;
  Except Baiardo good and Brigliador.

  XXVII
  Valiant Rogero, when too bold of sprite
  He backed the hippogryph and soared in air,
  Frontino left (Frontino he was hight),
  Whom Bradamant then took into her care,
  And to Mount Alban sent; and had him dight,
  And nourished, at large cost, with plenteous fare;
  Nor let be rode except at easy pace,
  Hence was he ne'er so sleek or well in case.

  XXVIII
  Each damsel and each dame who her obeyed,
  She tasked, together with herself, to sew,
  With subtle toil; and with fine gold o'erlaid
  A piece of silk of white and sable hue:
  With this she trapt the horse; then chose a maid,
  Old Callitrephia's daughter, from the crew;
  Whose mother whilom Bradamant had nursed;
  A damsel she in all her secrets versed.

  XXIX
  How graven in her heart Rogero lies,
  A thousand times to her she had confessed;
  And had extolled above the deities
  The manners, worth, and beauty be possessed.
  "No better messenger could I devise,"
  (She said, and called the damsel from the rest,)
  "Nor have I one, Hippalca mine, more sage
  And sure than three, to do my embassage."

  XXX
  Hippalca was the attendant damsel hight.
  "Go," (says her lady, and describes the way)
  And afterwards informs the maid aright
  Of all which to Rogero she should say;
  And why she at the abbey failed the knight,
  Who must not to bad faith ascribe her stay,
  But this to Fortune charge, that so decides,
  Who, more than we ourselves, our conduct guides.

  XXXI
  She made the damsel mount upon a pad,
  And put into her hand Frontino's rein;
  And, if she met with one so rude or mad,
  Who to deprive her of the steed were fain,
  Her to proclaim who was his owner, bade,
  As that which might suffice to make him sane.
  For she believed there was no cavalier,
  But that Rogero's name would make him fear.

  XXXII
  Of many and many things, whereof to treat
  With good Rogero, in her stead, she showed;
  Of which instructed well, her palfrey fleet
  Hippalca stirred, nor longer there abode.
  Through highway, field, and wood, a gloomy beat,
  More than ten weary miles the damsel rode,
  Ere any crossed her path on mischief bent,
  Or even questioned witherward she went.

  XXXIII
  At noon of day, descending from a mount,
  She in a streight and ill declivity,
  Led by a dwarf, encountered Rodomont,
  Who was afoot and harnessed cap-a-pee.
  The Moor towards her raised his haughty front,
  And straight blasphemed the eternal Hierarchy,
  That horse, so richly trapped and passing fair,
  He had not found in a knight-errant's care.

  XXXIV
  On the first courser he should find, the knight
  Had sworn a solemn oath his hands to lay:
  This was the first, nor he on steed could light
  Fairer or fitter; yet to take away
  The charger from a maid were foul despite.
  Doubtful he stands, but covets sore the prey;
  Eyes and surveys him, and says often, "Why
  Is not as well the courser's master by?"

  XXXV
  "Ah! would be were!" to him the maid replied,
  "For haply he would make thee change thy thought.
  A better knight than thee the horse doth ride,
  And vainly would his match on earth be sought."
  — "Who tramples thus on other's fame?" — he cried;
  And she — "Rogero" — said, as she was taught.
  Then Rodomont — "The steed I may my own;
  Since him a champion rides of such renown.

  XXXVI
  "If he, as you relate, be of such force,
  That he surprises all beside in might,
  I needs must pay the hire as well as horse;
  And be this at the pleasure of the knight!
  That I am Rodomont, to him discourse;
  And, if indeed with me he lists to fight,
  Me shall to find; in that I shine confest,
  By my own light, in motion or at rest.

  XXXVII
  "I leave such vestige wheresoe'er I tread,
  The volleyed thunder leaves not worse below."
  He had thrown back, over Frontino's head,
  The courser's gilded reins, in saying so,
  Backed him, and left Hippalca sore bested;
  Who, bathed in tears, and goaded by her woe,
  Cries shame on him, and threats the king with ill:
  Rodomont hearkens not, and climbs the hill:

  XXXVIII
  Whither the dwarf conducts him on the trace
  Of Doralice and Mandricardo bold.
  Behind, Hippalca him in ceaseless chase,
  Pursues with taunt and curses manifold.
  What came of this is said in other place.
  Turpin, by whom this history is told,
  Here makes digression, and returns again
  Thither, where faithless Pinnabel was slain.

  XXXIX
  Duke Aymon's daughter scarce had turned away
  From thence, who on her track in haste had gone,
  Ere thither by another path, astray,
  Zerbino came, with that deceitful crone,
  And saw the bleeding body where it lay:
  And, though the warrior was to him unknown,
  As good and courteous, felt his bosom swell,
  With pity at that cruel sight and fell.

  XL
  Dead lay Sir Pinnabel, and bathed in gore;
  From whom such streams of blood profusely flow,
  As were a cause for wonderment, had more
  Swords than a hundred joined to lay him low.
  A print of recent footsteps to explore
  The cavalier of Scotland was not slow;
  Who took the adventure, in the hope to read
  Who was the doer of the murderous deed.

  XLI
  The hag to wait was ordered by the peer,
  Who would return to her in little space.
  She to the body of the count drew near,
  And with fixt eye examined every place;
  Who willed not aught, that in her sight was dear,
  The body of the dead should vainly grace;
  As one who, soiled with every other vice,
  Surpassed all womankind in avarice.

  XLII
  If she in any manner could have thought,
  Or hoped to have concealed the intended theft,
  The bleeding warrior's surcoat, richly wrought,
  She would, together with his arms, have reft;
  But at what might be safely hidden, caught,
  And, grieved at heart, forewent the glorious weft.
  Him of a beauteous girdle she undrest,
  And this secured between a double vest.

  XLIII
  Zerbino after some short space came back,
  Who vainly Bradamant had thence pursued
  Through the green holt; because the beaten track
  Was lost in many others in the wood;
  And he (for daylight now began to lack)
  Feared night should catch him 'mid those mountains rude,
  And with the impious woman thence, in quest
  Of inn, from the disastrous valley prest.

  XLIV
  A spacious town, which Altaripa hight,
  Journeying the twain, at two miles' distance spy:
  There stopt the pair, and halted for the night,
  Which, at full soar, even now went up the sky:
  Nor long had rested there ere, left and right,
  They from the people heard a mournful cry;
  And saw fast tears from every eyelid fall,
  As if some cause of sorrow touched them all.

  XLV
  Zerbino asked the occasion, and 'twas said
  Tidings had been to Count Anselmo brought,
  That Pinnabel, his son, was lying dead
  In a streight way between two mountains wrought.
  Zerbino feigned surprise, and hung his head,
  In fear lest he the assassin should be thought;
  But well divined this was the wight he found
  Upon his journey, lifeless on the ground.

  XLVI
  After some little time, the funeral bier
  Arrives, 'mid torch and flambeau, where the cries
  Are yet more thick, and to the starry sphere
  Lament and noise of smitten hands arise;
  And faster and from fuller vein the tear
  Waters all cheeks, descending from the eyes;
  But in a cloud more dismal than the rest,
  Is the unhappy father's visage drest.

  XLVII
  While solemn preparation so was made
  For the grand obsequies, with reverence due,
  According to old use and honours paid,
  In former age, corrupted by each new;
  A proclamation of their lord allayed
  Quickly the noise of the lamenting crew;
  Promising any one a mighty gain
  That should denounce by whom his son was slain.

  XLVIII
  From voice to voice, from one to other ear,
  The loud proclaim they through the town declare;
  Till this the wicked woman chanced to hear,
  Who past in rage the tyger or the bear;
  And hence the ruin of the Scottish peer,
  Either in hatred, would the crone prepare,
  Or were it she alone might boast to be,
  In human form, without humanity;

  XLIX
  Or were it but to gain the promised prize; —
  She to seek out the grieving county flew,
  And, prefacing her tale in likely wise,
  Said that Zerbino did the deed; and drew
  The girdle forth, to witness to her lies;
  Which straight the miserable father knew;
  And on the woman's tale and token built
  A clear assurance of Zerbino's guilt.

  L
  And, weeping, with raised hands, was heard to say,
  He for his murdered son would have amends.
  To block the hostel where Zerbino lay,
  For all the town is risen, the father sends.
  The prince, who deems his enemies away,
  And no such injury as this attends,
  In his first sleep is seized by Anselm's throng,
  Who thinks he has endured so foul a wrong.

  LI
  That night in prison, fettered with a pair
  Of heavy letters, is Zerbino chained.
  For before yet the skies illuminated are,
  The wrongful execution is ordained;
  And in the place will he be quartered, where
  The deed was done for which he is arraigned.
  No other inquest is on this received;
  It is enough that so their lord believed.

  LII
  When, the next morn, Aurora stains with dye
  Red, white, and yellow, the clear horizon,
  The people rise, to punish ("Death!" their cry)
  Zerbino for the crime he has not done:
  They without order him accompany,
  A lawless multitude, some ride, some run.
  I' the midst the Scottish prince, with drooping head,
  Is, bound upon a little hackney, led.

  LIII
  But HE who with the innocent oft sides,
  Nor those abandons who make him their stay,
  For prince Zerbino such defence provides,
  There is no fear that he will die to-day;
  God thitherward renowned Orlando guides;
  Whose coming for his safety paves the way:
  Orlando sees beneath him on a plain
  The youth to death conducted by the train.

  LIV
  With him was wended she, that in the cell,
  Prisoned, Orlando found; that royal maid,
  Child of Gallicia's king, fair Isabel,
  Whom chance into the ruffians' power conveyed,
  What time her ship she quitted, by the swell
  Of the wild sea and tempest overlaid:
  The damsel, who, yet nearer her heart-core
  Than her own vital being, Zerbino wore.

  LV
  She had beneath Orlando's convoy strayed,
  Since rescued from the cave. When on the plain
  The damsel saw the motley troop arrayed,
  She asked Orlando what might be the train?
  "I know not," said the Count; and left the maid
  Upon the height, and hurried towards the plain.
  He marked Zerbino, and at the first sight
  A baron of high worth esteemed the knight,

  LVI
  And asked him why and wherefore him they led
  Thus captive, to Zerbino drawing near:
  At this the doleful prince upraised his head,
  And, having better heard the cavalier,
  Rehearsed the truth; and this so well he said,
  That he deserved the succour of the peer.
  Well Sir Orlando him, by his reply,
  Deemed innocent, and wrongly doomed to die.

  LVII
  And, after he had heard 'twas at the hest
  Of Anselm, Count of Altaripa, done,
  Was certain 'twas and outrage manifest,
  Since nought but ill could spring from him; and one,
  Moreover, was the other's foe profest,
  From ancient hate and enmity, which run
  In Clermont and Maganza's blood; a feud
  With injuries, and death and shame pursued.

  LVIII
  Orlando to the rabble cried, "Untie
  The cavalier, unless you would be slain."
  — "Who deals such mighty blows?" — one made reply,
  That would be thought the truest of the train;
  "Were he of fire who makes such bold defy,
  We wax or straw, too haughty were the strain":
  And charged with that the paladin of France.
  Orlando at the losel couched his lance.

  LIX
  The shining armour which the chief had rent
  From young Zerbino but the night before,
  And clothed himself withal, poor succour lent
  Against Orlando in that combat sore.
  Against the churl's right cheek the weapon went:
  It failed indeed his tempered helm to bore,
  But such a shock he suffered in the strife,
  As broke his neck, and stretched him void of life.

  LX
  All at one course, of other of the band,
  With lance unmoved, he pierced the bosom through;
  Left it; on Durindana laid his hand,
  And broke into the thicket of the crew:
  One head in twain he severed with the brand,
  (While, from the shoulders lopt, another flew)
  Of many pierced the throat; and in a breath
  Above a hundred broke and put to death.

  LXI
  Above a third he killed, and chased the rest,
  And smote, and pierced, and cleft, as he pursued.
  Himself of helm or shield one dispossest;
  One with spontoon or bill the champaign strewed
  This one along the road, across it prest
  A fourth; this squats in cavern or in wood.
  Orlando, without pity, on that day
  Lets none escape whom he has power to slay.

  LXII
  Of a hundred men and twenty, in that crew,
  (So Turpin sums them) eighty died at least.
  Thither Orlando finally withdrew,
  Where, with a heart sore trembling in his breast,
  Zerbino sat; how he at Roland's view
  Rejoiced, in verse can hardly be exprest:
  Who, but that he was on the hackney bound,
  Would at his feet have cast himself to ground.

  LXIII
  While Roland, after he had loosed the knight,
  Helped him to don his shining arms again;
  Stript from those serjeants' captain, who had dight
  Himself with the good harness, to his pain;
  The prince on Isabella turned his sight,
  Who had halted on the hill above the plain:
  And, after she perceived the strife was o'er,
  Nearer the field of fight her beauties bore.

  LXIV
  When young Zerbino at his side surveyed
  The lady, who by him was held so dear;
  The beauteous lady, whom false tongue had said
  Was drowned, so often wept with many a tear,
  As if ice at his heart-core had been laid,
  Waxed cold, and some deal shook the cavalier;
  But the chill quickly past, and he, instead,
  Was flushed with amorous fire, from foot to head.

  LXV
  From quickly clipping her in his embrace,
  Him reverence for Anglantes' sovereign stayed;
  Because he thought, and held for certain case,
  That Roland was a lover of the maid;
  So past from pain to pain; and little space
  Endured the joy which he at first assayed.
  And worse he bore she should another's be,
  Than hearing that the maid was drowned at sea.

  LXVI
  And worse he grieved, that she was with a knight
  To whom he owed so much: because to wrest
  The lady from his hand, was neither right,
  Nor yet perhaps would prove an easy quest.
  He, without quarrel, had no other wight
  Suffered to part, of such a prize possest;
  But would endure, Orlando (such his debt)
  A foot upon his prostrate neck should set.

  LXVII
  The three in silence journey to a font,
  Where they alight, and halt beside the well;
  His helmet here undid the weary Count,
  And made the prince too quit the iron shell.
  The youth unhelmed, she sees her lover's front,
  And pale with sudden joy grows Isabel:
  Then, changing, brightened like a humid flower,
  When the warm sun succeeds to drenching shower.

  LXVIII
  And without more delay or scruple, prest
  To cast her arms about her lover dear;
  And not a word could draw-forth from her breast,
  But bathed his neck and face with briny tear.
  Orlando, who remarked the love exprest,
  Needing no more to make the matter clear,
  Could not but, by these certain tokens, see
  The could no other but Zerbino be.

  LXIX
  When speech returned, ere yet the maiden well
  Had dried her cheeks from the descending tear,
  She only of the courtesy could tell
  Late shown her by Anglantes' cavalier.
  The prince, who in one scale weighed Isabel,
  Together with his life, esteemed as dear, —
  Fell at Orlando's feet and him adored,
  As to two lives at once by him restored.

  LXX
  Proffers and thanks had followed, with a round
  Of courtesies between the warlike pair,
  Had they not heard the covered paths resound,
  Which overgrown with gloomy foliage were.
  Upon their heads the helmet, late unbound,
  They quickly place, and to their steeds repair;
  And, lo! a knight and maid arrive, ere well
  The cavaliers are seated in the sell.

  LXXI
  This was the Tartar Mandricardo, who
  In haste behind the paladin had sped,
  To venge Alzirdo and Manilard, the two
  Whom good Orlando's valour had laid dead:
  Though afterwards less eager to pursue,
  Since he with him fair Doralice had led;
  Whom from a hundred men, in plate and chain,
  He, with a single staff of oak, had ta'en.

  LXXII
  Yet knew not that it was Anglantes' peer
  This while, of whom he had pursued the beat;
  Though that he was a puissant cavalier
  By certain signals was he taught to weet.
  More than Zerbino him he eyed, and, near,
  Perused the paladin from head to feet;
  Then finding all the tokens coincide,
  "Thou art the man I seek," the paynim cried.

  LXXIII
  " 'Tis now ten days," to him the Tartar said,
  "That thee I still have followed; so the fame
  Had stung me, and in me such longing bred,
  Which of thee to our camp of Paris came:
  When, amid thousands by thy hand laid dead,
  Scarce one alive fled thither, to proclaim
  The mighty havoc made by thy good hand,
  'Mid Tremisena's and Noritia's band.

  LXXIV
  "I was not, as I knew, in following slow
  Both to behold thee, and to prove thy might;
  And by the surcoat o'er thine arms I know,
  (Instructed of thy vest) thou art the knight:
  And if such cognizance thou didst not show,
  And, 'mid a hundred, wert concealed from sight,
  For what thou art thou plainly wouldst appear,
  Thy worth conspicuous in thy haughty cheer."

  LXXV
  "No one can say," to him Orlando cried,
  "But that a valiant cavalier thou art:
  For such a brave desire can ill reside,
  'Tis my assurance, in a humble heart.
  Since thou wouldst see me, would that thou inside,
  Couldst as without, behold me! I apart
  Will lay me helm, that in all points thy will
  And purpose of thy quest I may fulfil.

  LXXVI
  "But when thou well hast scanned me with thine eye,
  To that thine other wish as well attend:
  It yet remains for thee to satisfy
  The want, which leads thee after me to wend;
  That thou mayest mark if, in my valour, I
  Agree with that bold cheer thou so commend."
  — "And now," (exclaimed the Tartar), "for the rest!
  For my first want is thoroughly redrest."

  LXXVII
  Orlando, all this while, from head to feet,
  Searches the paynim with inquiring eyes:
  Both sides, and next the pommel of his seat
  Surveys, yet neither mace nor tuck espies;
  And asks how he the combat will repeat,
  If his good lance at the encounter flies.
  — "Take thou no care for that," replied the peer;
  "Thus into many have I stricken fear.

  LXXVIII
  "I have an oath in Heaven to gird no blade,
  Till Durindana from the count be won.
  Pursuing whom, I through each road here strayed,
  With him to reckon for more posts than one.
  If thou wilt please to hear, my oath I made
  When on my head I placed this morion:
  Which casque, with all the other arms I bear,
  A thousand years ago great Hector's were.