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."

  XLI

  "Oh!" (to Circassia's king cried Roland dread)

  "Thy morion for this man let me entreat,

  Till I have driven such folly from his head;

  For never with like madness did I meet."

  — "Who then would be most fool?" the monarch said;

  "But if indeed you deem the suit discreet,

  Lend him thine own; nor shall I be less fit

  Haply than thee to school his lack of wit."

  XLII

  — "Fools, both of you!" (the fierce Ferrau replied)

  "As if, did I to wear a helm delight,

  You would not be without your casques of pride,

  Already reft by me in your despite;

  But know thus much, that I by vow am tied

  To wear no helm, and thus my promise quite;

  Roaming without, till that fine casque I win

  Worn by Orlando, Charles's paladin."

  XLIII

  — "Then" (smiling, to the Spaniard said the count)

  "With naked head, thou thinkest to repeat

  On Roland what he did in Aspramont,

  By Agolant's bold son: but shouldst thou meet

  The warrior whom thou seekest, front to front,

  I warrant thou wouldst quake from head to feet;

  Nor only wouldst forego the casque, but give

  The knight thine other arms to let thee live."

  XLIV

  — "So oft have I had Roland on the hip,

  And oft," (exclaimed the boaster) "heretofore;

  From him it had been easy task to strip

  What other arms, beside his helm, he wore;

  And if I still have let the occasion slip,

  — We sometimes think of things unwished before:

  Such wish I had not; I have now; and hope

  To compass easily my present scope."

  XLV

  The good Orlando could no more forbear,

  And cried, "Foul miscreant, liar, marched with me,

  Say, caitiff, in what country, when and where

  Boast you to have obtained such victory?

  That paladin am I, o'er whom you dare

  To vaunt, and whom you distant deemed: now see

  If you can take my helm, or I have might

  To take your other arms in your despite.

  XLVI

  "Nor I o'er you the smallest vantage wou'd."

  He ended, and his temples disarrayed,

  And to a beech hung up the helmet good,

  And nigh as quickly bared his trenchant blade.

  Ferrau stands close, and in such attitude,

  (His courage not for what had chanced dismayed)

  Covered with lifted shield and naked sword,

  As might best shelter to his head afford.

  XLVII

  'Twas thus those warriors two, with faulchions bare,

  Turning their ready steeds, began to wheel;

  And where the armour thinnest was, and where

  The meeting plates were joined, probed steel with steel;

  Nor was there in the world another pair

  More fitted to be matched in fierce appeal:

  Equal their daring, equal was their might,

  And safe alike from wound was either knight.

  XLVIII

  By you, fair sir, already, I presume,

  That fierce Ferrau was charmed is understood,

  Save where the child, enclosed within the womb

  Of the full mother, takes its early food;

  And hence he ever, till the squalid tomb

  Covered his manly face, wore harness good

  (Such was his wont) the doubtful part to guard,

  Of seven good plates of metal, tempered hard.

  XLIX

  Alike a charmed life Orlando bore,

  Safe every where, except a single part:

  Unfenced beneath his feet, which evermore

  By him were guarded with all care and art.

  The rest than diamond dug from mountain hoar

  More hard, unless report from truth depart;

  And armed to battle either champion went,

  Less for necessity than ornament.

  L

  Waxing more fierce and fell the combat rages,

  Of fear and horror full, between the twain:

  The fierce Ferrau such dreadful battle wages,

  That stroke or thrust is never dealt in vain:

  Each mighty blow from Roland disengages

  And loosens, breaks, or shatters, plate and chain.

  Angelica alone, secure from view,

  Regards such fearful sight, and marks the two.

  LI

  For, during this, the king of Circassy,

  Who deemed Angelica not far before,

  When Ferrau and Orlando desperately

  Closing in fight were seen, his horse did gore

  Along the way by which he deemed that she

  Had disappeared; and so that battle sore

  Was witnessed 'twixt the struggling foes, by none,

  Beside the daughter of king Galaphron.

  LII

  After the damsel had sometime descried

  This dread and direful combat, standing nigh;

  And it appearing that on either side

  With equal peril both the warriors vie,

  She, fond of novelty, the helm untied

  Designs to take; desirous to espy

  What they would do when they perceived the wrong;

  But, without thought to keep her plunder long.

  LIII

  To give it to Orlando was she bent,

  But first she would upon the warrior play:

  The helmet she took down with this intent

  And in her bosom hid, and marked the fray:

  Next thence, without a word to either went,

  And from the scene of strife was far away

  Ere either of the two had marked the feat;

  So were they blinded by their angry heat.

  LIV

  But Ferrau, who first chanced the loss to see,

  From Roland disengaged himself, and cried,

  "How like unwary men and fools are we

  Treated by him, who late with us did ride!

  What meed, which worthiest of the strife might be,

  If this be stolen, the victor shall abide?"

  Roland draws back, looks upward, and with ire,

  Missing the noble casque, is all on fire:

  LV

  And in opinion with Ferrau agreed,

  That he the knight, who was with them before,

  Had born away the prize: hence turned his steed.

  And with the spur admonished Brigliador.

  Ferrau, who from the field beheld him speed.

  Followed him, and when Roland and the Moor

  Arrived where tracks upon the herbage green

  Of the Circassian and the maid were seen,

  LVI

  Towards a vale upon the left the count

  Went off, pursuing the Circassian's tread;

  The Spaniard kept the path more nigh the mount,

  By which the fair Angelica had fled.

  Angelica, this while, has reached a fount,

  Of pleasant site, and shaded overhead;

  By whose inviting shades no traveller hasted,

  Nor ever left the chrystal wave untasted.

  LVII

  Angelica, the sylvan spring beside,

  Reposes, unsuspicious of surprise;

  And thinking her the sacred ring will hide,

  Fears not that evil accident can rise.

  On her arrival at the fountain's side,

  She to a branch above the helmet ties;

  Then seeks the fittest sapling for her need,

  Where, fastened to its trunk, her mare may feed.

  LVIII

  The Spanish cavalier the stream beside

  Arrived, who had pursued her traces there:

  Angelica no sooner him espied,

  Than she evanished clean, and spurred her mare:

  The helm this while had dropt, but lay too wide

  To be recovered of the flying fair.

  As soon as sweet Angelica he saw,

  Towards her full of rapture sprang Ferrau.

  LIX

  She disappeared, I say, as forms avaunt

  At sleep's departure: toiling long and sore

  He seeks the damsel there, 'twixt plant and plant,

  Now can his wretched eyes behold her more.

  Blaspheming his Mahound and Termagant,

  And cursing every master of his lore,

  Ferrau returned towards the sylvan fount,

  Where lay on earth the helmet of the count.

  LX

  This he soon recognised, for here he read

  Letters upon the margin, written fair,

  Which how Orlando won the helmet said;

  And from what champion took, and when and where.

  With it the paynim armed his neck and head,

  Who would not for his grief the prize forbear;

  His grief for loss of her, conveyed from sight,

  As disappear the phantoms of the night.

  LXI

  When in this goodly casque he was arrayed,

  He deemed nought wanting to his full content,

  But the discovery of the royal maid,

  Who like a flash of lightning came and went:

  For her he searches every greenwood shade,

  And when all hope of finding her is spent,

  He for the vain pursuit no longer tarries,

  But to the Spanish camp returns near Paris;

  LXII

  Tempering the grief which glowed within his breast,

  For such sore disappointment, with the thought

  That he was with Orlando's morion blest,

  As sworn. By good Anglante's count, when taught

  That the false Saracen the prize possest,

  Long time the Spanish knight was vainly sought;

  Nor Roland took the helmet from his head,

  Till he between two bridges laid him dead.

  LXIII

  Angelica thus, viewless and alone,

  Speeds on her journey, but with troubled front;

  Grieved for the helmet, in her haste foregone

  On her departure from the grassy fount.

  "Choosing to do what I should least have done,"

  (She said) "I took his helmet from the count.

  This for his first desert I well bestow;

  A worthy recompense for all I owe!

  LXIV

  "With good intentions, as God knows, I wrought;

  Though these an ill and different end produce;

  I took the helmet only with the thought

  To bring that deadly battle to a truce;

  And not that this foul Spaniard what he sought

  Should gain, or I to his intent conduce."

  So she, lamenting, took herself to task

  For having robbed Orlando of his casque.

  LXV

  By what appeared to her the meetest way,

  Moody and ill-content she eastward pressed;

  Ofttimes concealed, sometimes in face of day,

  As seemed most opportune and pleased her best.

  After much country seen, a forest gray

  She reached, where, sorely wounded in mid breast,

  Between two dead companions on the ground,

  The royal maid a bleeding stripling found.

  LXVI

  But of Angelica I now no more

  Shall speak, who first have many things to say;

  Nor shall to the Circassian or the Moor

  Give for long space a rhyme; thence called away

  By good Anglante's prince, who wills, before

  I of those others tell, I should display

  The labours and the troubles he sustained,

  Pursuing the great good he never gained.

  LXVII

  At the first city, whither he was brought

  (Because to go concealed he had good care),

  He a new helmet donned; but took no thought

  What was the head-piece he designed to bear.

  So safe is he in fairy spell, it nought

  Imports, if hard or soft its temper were.

  Orlando, covered thus, pursues the quest,

  Nor him day, night, or rain, or sun arrest.

  LXVIII

  It was the hour that our of Ocean's bed

  Dan Phoebus drew his dripping steeds, and high

  And low, still scattering yellow flowers and red,

  Aurora stained the heavens with various dye,

  And Stars had cast their veils about their head,

  Departing from their revels in the sky;

  When passing on a day fair Paris near,

  Orlando made his mighty worth appear.

  LXIX

  Two squadrons he encountered; one an old

  Saracen, Manilardo clept, obeyed;

  King of Noritia, whilom fierce and bold.

  But fitter now to counsel than to aid.

  The next beneath the standard was enrolled

  Or Tremisena's monarch, who was said

  'Mid Africans to be a perfect knight;

  Alzirdo he by those who knew him, hight:

  LXX

  These, with the other Saracen array,

  Cantoned throughout the winter months had lain,

  Some near the city, some more far away,

  All lodged nigh town or hamlet on the plain.

  For since King Agramant had many a day

  Spent in attacking Paris' walls in vain,

  He (for no other means remained to try)

  Would lastly with a siege the city ply;

  LXXI

  And to do this had people infinite:

  Since he, beside the host that with him came,

  And that of Spain which followed to the fight

  The Spanish King Marsilius' oriflame,

  Many of France did in his pay unite:

  For all from Paris he to Arles's stream,

  With part of Gascony, some straggling tower

  Excepted, had reduced beneath his power.

  LXXII

  The quivering brook, as warmer breezes blew,

  Beginning now from ice its waves to free,

  And the fresh-springing grass and foliage new,

  To cloathe again the field and greenwood tree,

  All those King Agramant assembled, who

  Had followed him in his prosperity;

  To muster in review the armed swarm,

  And give to his affairs a better form:

  LXXIII

  Hence did the King of Tremisen' repair,

  With him who had Noritia in command,

  To be in time at that full muster, where

  Each squadron, good or bad, was to be scanned

  Orlando thus by chance encountered there,

  As I have told you, this united hand;

  Who, as his usage was, went seeking her,

  By whom he had been made Love's prisoner.

  LXXIV

  Alzirdo, as the approaching count he eyes,

  Who in this world for valour has no peer,

  With such a haughty front, and in such guise,

  The God of war would less in arms appear,

  The features known before astounded spies,

  The fierce, disdainful glance and furious cheer;

  And him esteems a knight of prowess high,

  Which, fondly, he too sore desires to try.

  LXXV

  Arrogant, young, and of redoubted force,

  Alzirdo was, and prized for dauntless mind;

  Who bent to joust pricked forth his foaming horse,

  Happier had he remained in line behind!

  Met by Anglante's prince in middle course,

  Who pierced his heart as they encountering joined.

  Frighted, the lightened courser scoured the plain,

  Without a rider to direct the rein.

  LXXVI

  Rises a sudden and a horrid cry,

  And air on every side repeats the scream;

  As his scared band the falling youth descry,

  And issuing from his wound so wide a stream:

  Disordered, they the count in fury ply,

  And, raised to cut or thrust, their weapons gleam.

  Against that flower of knights, their feathered reeds,

  A thicker squadron yet in tempest speeds.

  LXXVII

  With sound like that, with which from hill repair,

  Or from the champaign's flat the hurrying swine,

  (If the Wolf, issue from his grot, or Bear,

  Descending to the mountains' lower line,

  Some bristly youngling take away and tear,

  Who with loud squeal and grunt is heard to pine)

  Came driving at the count the barbarous rout;

  "Upon him!" and "upon him!" still their shout.

  LXXVIII

  At once spears, shafts, and swords, his corslet bore

  By thousands, and as many pierce his shield.

  This threatens on one side, and that before,

  And those the ponderous mace behind him wield.

  But he esteems the craven rout no more.

  He, who did never yet to terror yield,

  Than hungry Wolf in twilight makes account

  To what the number of the flock may mount.

  LXXIX

  He held unsheathed that thundering sword in hand,

  Which with so many foes has heaped the plain,

  That he who thinks to count the slaughtered band,

  Has undertaken, hard emprize and vain.

  The road ran red, ensanguined by his brand,

  And scarce capacious of the many slain.

  For neither targe nor head-piece good defends,

  Where fatal Durindana's blade descends.

  LXXX

  Nor safety cotton vest, nor cloths supply,

  In thousand folds about the temples spread:

  Nor only groan and lamentation fly

  Through air, but shoulder, arm, and severed head,

  Death roams the field in strange variety

  Of horrid forms, and all inspiring dread;

  And says, "For hundreds of my scythes may stand

  His Durindana in Orlando's hand."

  LXXXI

  His ceaseless strokes scarce one the other wait:

  Speedily all his foemen are in flight.

  And when before they came at furious rate,

  They hoped to swallow quick the single knight.

  None is there who, in that unhappy straight,

  Stops for his comrade, flying from the fight.

  Here one man speeds afoot, one gallops there;

  None stays to question if the road be fair.

  LXXXII

  His mirror Valour bore about, and here

  Each blemish of the soul was seen confest:

  None looked therein, except an aged peer,

  Whose blood was chilled, but courage unreprest.

  That death were better deems this cavalier

  Than life in flight, and in disgrace possest:

  I mean Noritia's king, who lays his lance

  In rest against the paladin of France;

  LXXXIII

  He broke it on the border of the shield

  Of the intrepid count, with stedfast hand,

  Who, by the stroke unshaken, nothing reeled:

  And smote the king, in passing, with his brand.

  Him Fortune saved; for as Orlando wheeled

  The blade, it turned, descending, in his hand.

  Although an-edge he guides not still the sword,

  Stunned from his saddle reels the paynim lord.

  LXXXIV

  Astounded from his saddle reels the king,

  Nor him Orlando turns about to see.

  He cuts, and cleaves, and slays his following;

  Who all believe him at their backs to be.

  As through the spacious air, with troubled wing,

  The starlings from the daring merlin flee;

  So, of that broken squadron, scattered round,

  Some fly, some dip, and some fall flat to ground.

  LXXXV

  He ceased not his ensanguined blade to sway

  Till living wight remained not in his view.

  Orlando doubted to resume his way,

  Although the country all about he knew.

  Does he the right or left-hand road assay,

  His thoughts still rove from what his steps pursue,

  And he to seek the damsel is in dread

  Through other path than that by which she fled.

  LXXXVI

  Through wood and field his courser did he goad,

  Often inquiring for the royal dame:

  Beside himself, he strayed beside his road,

  And to the foot of rising mountain came,

  Whence (it was night-time) through a fissure glowed

  The distant flicker of a quivering flame.

  Orlando to the rock approached, to spy

  If there Angelica concealed might lie.

  LXXXVII

  As where low junipers o'er shade her lair,

  Or in the stubble of the open lay,

  What time the hunters seek the fearful hare

  Through traversed woods, and through uncertain way,

  — Lest peradventure she be hidden there,

  They every bramble, every bush assay;

  Even so, where hope the toiling warrior leads,

  Searching his lady-love, Orlando speeds.

  LXXXVIII

  Pricking in haste towards that ray, the count

  Arrived where in the wood the light was shed,

  Forth-streaming from a crevice in the mount,

  Within whose womb a spacious grotto spread;

  And there, like wall or bank, discerned in front,

  Of thorns and underwood a bristly bed,

  To hide the grotto's inmates, and defend

  From scathe or scorn, which others might intend.

  LXXXIX

  By day it had been hidden evermore;

  But the clear flame betrayed the haunt by night.

  Its use he guessed; but would the place explore,

  And better certify himself by sight.

  When he without had tied his Brigliador,

  In silence to the grotto stole the knight;

  Threading the shrubs; nor calling for a guide,

  Entered the passage in the mountain's side.

  XC

  By a long flight of steps was the descent

  Into the cave; where, in the rocky tomb,

  Buried were living folk. Of wide extent,

  The grot was chiselled into vaulted room;

  Nor was, although its entrance little lent,

  All daylight wanting to disperse the gloom:

  For much was furnished by a window dight,

  Within a natural fissure on the right.

  XCI

  In the mid cave, beside a fire was seen

  A gentle maid of pleasing look and guise;

  Who seemed to Roland little past fifteen,

  As far as at first sight he might surmise.

  With that so fair she made the rugged scene

  Seem in the warrior's sight a paradise.

  Although this while her eyes with tears o'erflow,

  Clear tokens of a heart oppressed with woe.

  XCII

  An aged dame was with her, and the pair

  Wrangled, as oftentimes is women's way;

  But when the County was descending there,

  Concluded the dispute and wordy fray.

  Orlando hastens to salute them fair

  (As still is due to womankind) and they

  To welcome him rise lightly form their seat,

  And with benign return the warrior greet.

  XCIII

  'Tis true, that when that sudden voice they hear,

  Somedeal confused in look they seem to be,

  At the same time beholding thus appear

  So fierce a wight, and harnessed cap-a-pee.

  "What wight" (demands Anglantes' cavalier)

  So barbarous is, and void of courtesy,

  That he keeps buried, in this rude repair,

  A face so gentle and so passing fair?"

  XCIV

  With pain the virgin to the count replies,

  As he inquires of her unhappy doom,

  In sweet and broken accents, which by sighs

  Impelled, through rows of pearl and coral come:

  And between rose and lily, from her eyes

  Tears fall so fast, she needs must swallow some.

  In other canto, sir, be pleased to attend

  The rest, for here 'tis time my strain should end.