XXXIX

  Through Araby the blest he fares, where grow

  Thickets of myrrh, and gums odorous ooze,

  Where the sole phoenix makes her nest, although

  The world is all before her where to choose;

  And to the avenging sea which whelmed the foe

  Of Israel, his way the duke pursues;

  In which King Pharaoh and his host were lost:

  From whence he to the land of heroes crost.

  XL

  Astolpho along Trajan's channel goes,

  Upon that horse which has no earthly peer,

  And moves so lightly, that the soft sand shows

  No token of the passing cavalier;

  Who prints not grass, prints not the driven snows,

  — Who dry-shod would the briny billows clear,

  And strains so nimbly in the course, he wind

  And thunderbolt and arrow leaves behind: —

  XLI

  Erst Argalia's courser, which was born

  From a close union of the wind and flame,

  And, nourished not by hay or heartening corn,

  Fed on pure air, and Rabican his name.

  His way the bearer of the magic horn

  Following, where Nile received that river, came;

  But ere he at its outlet could arrive,

  Towards him saw a pinnace swiftly drive.

  XLII

  A hermit in the poop the bark did guide

  With snowy beard descending to mid breast;

  Who when from far the Paladin be spied,

  Him to ascend his ready pinnace prest.

  "My son, unless thou loathest life, (he cried)

  And wouldst that Death to-day thy course arrest,

  Content thee in my bark to cross the water;

  For yonder path conducts thee straight to slaughter.

  XLIII

  "Within six miles, no further, shalt thou light

  (Pursued the hermit) on the bloody seat,

  Where dwells a giant, horrible to sight,

  Exceeding every stature by eight feet.

  From him wayfaring man or errant knight

  Would vainly hope with life to make retreat;

  For some the felon quarters, some he flays,

  And some he swallows quick, and some he slays.

  XLIV

  "He, 'mid the cruel horrors he intends,

  Takes pleasure in a net, by cunning hands

  Contrived, which near his mansion he extends;

  So well concealed beneath the crumbling sands,

  That whoso uninstructed thither wends,

  Nought of the subtle mischief understands;

  And so the giant scares him with his cries,

  That he within the toils in terror flies;

  XLV

  "Whom with loud laughter, to his seat hard by

  He drags along, enveloped in his snare;

  And knight and damsel views with equal eye,

  And for his prisoners' worth has little care.

  Then, having sucked their brains and life-blood dry,

  Casts forth their bones upon the desert lair;

  And round about his griesly palace pins,

  For horrid ornament, their bloody skins.

  XLVI

  "Take this, — my son, oh! take this other way,

  Which thee will to the sea in safety guide."

  "I thank thee, holy father, for thy say,

  (To him the fearless cavalier replied)

  But cannot peril against honour weigh,

  Far dearer than my life. To the other side

  Me vainly dost thou move to pass the wave;

  Rather for this I seek the giant's cave.

  XLVII

  "I with dishonour life to flight may owe;

  But worse than death loath thus to save my head.

  The worst that can befall me if I go,

  Is I my blood shall with the others shed:

  But if on me such mercy God bestow,

  That I remain alive, the giant dead,

  Secure for thousands shall I make the ways;

  So that the greater good the risque o'erpays.

  XLVIII

  "I peril but the single life of one

  Against safety of the countless rest."

  — "Go then in peace," (the other said). "my son,

  And to thy succour, form among the blest,

  May God dispatch the Archangel Michael down."

  — And him, with that, the simple hermit blest.

  Astolpho pricks along Nile's rosy strand,

  More in his horn confiding than his brand.

  XLIX

  Between the mighty river and the fen,

  A path upon the sandy shore doth lie,

  Barred by the giant's solitary den

  Cut off from converse with humanity.

  About it heads and naked limbs of men

  Were fixed, the victims of his cruelty.

  Window or battlements was not, whence strung

  Might not be seen some wretched prisoner hung.

  L

  As in hill-farm or castle, fenced with moat,

  The hunter, mindful what his dangers were,

  Aye fastens on his door the shaggy coat

  And horrid paws and monstrous head of bear;

  So showed the giant those of greatest note,

  Who, thither brought, had perished in his snare.

  The bones of countless others wide were spread,

  And every ditch with human blood was red.

  LI

  Caligorant was standing at the gate

  (For so was the despiteous monster hight);

  Who decked his house with corpses, as for state

  Some theirs with cloth of gold and scarlet dight.

  He scarce contained himself for joy, so great

  His pleasure, when the duke appeared in sight;

  For 'twas two months complete, a third was near,

  Since by that road had past a cavalier.

  LII

  Towards the marish, where green rushes grow,

  He hastes, intending from that covert blind

  To double on his unsuspecting foe,

  And issue on the cavalier behind:

  For him to drive into the net, below

  The sand, the griesly giant had designed;

  As others trapt he had been wont to see,

  Brought thither by their evil destiny.

  LIII

  When him the wary paladin espied,

  He stopt his courser, not without great heed,

  Lest he into the covert snare might tide,

  Forewarned of this by the good hermit's rede.

  Here to his horn for succour he applied,

  Nor failed its wonted virtue in this need:

  It smote the giant's heart with such affright,

  That he turned back, and homeward fled outright.

  LIV

  Astolpho blew, still watchful of surprise,

  Weening to see the engine sprung: fast flew

  The giant, — as if heart as well as eyes

  The thief had lost, — nor whitherward he knew:

  Such is his fear, he kens not as he flies,

  How is own covert mischief to eschew:

  He runs into the net, which closing round,

  Hampers the wretch, and drags him to the ground.

  LV

  Astolpho, who beholds his bulky prey

  Fall bodily, drives thither at full speed,

  Secure himself, and, bent — to make him pay

  The price of slaughtered thousands — quits his steed.

  Yet after, deems a helpless wight to slay

  No valour were, but rather foul misdeed:

  For him, arms, neck, and feet, so closely tied,

  He could not shake himself, the warrior spied.

  LVI

  With subtle thread of steel had Vulcan wrought

  The net of old, and with such cunning pain,

  He, who to break its weakest mesh had sought,

  Would have bestowed his time and toil in vain.

  It was with this he Mars and Venus caught,

  Who, hands and feet, were fettered by the chain:

  Nor did the jealous husband weave the thread

  For aught, but to surprise that pair in bed.

  LVII

  Mercury from the smith conveyed the prize,

  Wanting to take young Chloris in the snare;

  Sweet Chloris, who behind Aurora flies,

  At rise of sun, through fields of liquid air,

  And from her gathered garment, through the skies,

  Scatters the violet, rose, and lily fair.

  He for this nymph his toils so deftly set,

  One day, in air he took her with the net.

  LVIII

  The nymph (it seems) was taken as she flew,

  Where the great Aethiop river meets the brine:

  The net was treasured in Canopus, through

  Successive ages, in Anubis' shrine.

  After three thousand years, Caligorant drew

  The sacred relict from the palace divine:

  Whence with the net the impious thief returned,

  Who robbed the temple and the city burned,

  LIX

  He fixed it here, beneath the sandy plain,

  In mode, that all the travellers whom he chased

  Ran into it, and the engine was with pain

  Touched, ere it arms, and feet, and neck embraced.

  From this the good Astolpho took a chain,

  And with the gyve his hands behind him laced:

  His arms and breast he swaddled in such guise,

  He could not loose himself; then let him rise.

  LX

  After, his other knots unfastening,

  (For he was turned more gentle than a maid)

  Astolpho, as a show, the thief would bring,

  By city, borough-town, and farm conveyed;

  The net as well; than which no quainter thing

  Was ever by the file and hammer made.

  On him, like sumpter-nag he laid the load,

  In triumph led, behind him, on his road.

  LXI

  Him helm and shield he gives alike to bear,

  As to a valet; hence proceeds the peer,

  Gladdening the fearful pilgrim every where,

  Who joys to think, henceforth his way is clear.

  So far an end does bold Astolpho fare,

  He is to Memphis' tombs already near, —

  Memphis renowned for pyramids; in sight,

  He marks the populous Cairo opposite.

  LXII

  Ran all the people in tumultuous tide,

  To see him drag the unmeasured wight along.

  "How can it be," (each to his fellow cried)

  "That one so weak could master one so strong?"

  Scarce can Astolpho put the press aside,

  So close from every part their numbers throng;

  While all admire him as a cavalier

  Of mighty worth, and make him goodly cheer.

  LXIII

  Then Cairo was not such, as common cry

  Pronounces in our age that costly seat;

  — That eighteen thousand districts ill supply

  Lodging to those who in her markets meet;

  — And though the houses are three stories high,

  Numbers are forced to sleep in the open street;

  And that the soldan has a palace there

  Of wonderous size, and passing rich and fair;

  LXIV

  And therein (Christian renegadoes all)

  Keeps fifteen thousand vassals, for his needs,

  Beneath one roof supplied with bower and stall,

  Themselves, and wives, and families, and steeds.

  The duke desired to see the river's fall,

  And how far Nile into the sea proceeds.

  At Damietta; where wayfaring wight,

  He heard, was prisoner made or slain outright.

  LXV

  For at Nile's outlet there, beside his bed,

  A sturdy thief was sheltered in a tower,

  Alike the native's and the stranger's dread,

  Wont even to Cairo's gate the road to scower.

  Him no one could resist, and, it was said,

  That man to slay the felon had no power.

  A hundred thousand wounds he had in strife

  Received, yet none could ever take his life.

  LXVI

  To see if he could break the thread which tied

  The felon's life, upon his way the knight

  Set forward, and to Damietta hied,

  To find Orrilo, so the thief was hight;

  Thence to the river's outlet past, and spied

  The sturdy castle on the margin dight;

  Harboured in which the enchanted demon lay,

  The fruit of a hobgoblin and a fay.

  LXVII

  He here Orrilo and two knights in mail

  Found at fierce strife: the two ill held their own

  Against him; so Orrilo did assail

  The warlike pair, although himself alone;

  And how much either might in arms avail,

  Fame through the universal world had blown.

  Of Oliviero's seed was either plant;

  Gryphon the white, and sable Aquilant.

  LXVIII

  The necromancer had this while (to say

  The truth) with vantage on his side, begun

  The fight, who brought a monster to the fray,

  Found only in those parts, and wont to won

  Ashore or under water, and to prey,

  For food, on human bodies; feeding on

  Poor mariners and travelling men, who fare,

  Of the impending danger, unaware.

  LXIX

  The monster, slaughtered by the brethren two,

  Upon the sand beside the haven lies;

  And hence no wrong they to Orrilo do,

  Assailing him together in this guise.

  Him they dismembered often and not slew:

  Now he, — because dismembered, — ever dies;

  For he replaces leg or hand like wax,

  Which the good faulchion from his body hacks.

  LXX

  Gryphon and Aquilant by turns divide,

  Now to the teeth, now breast, the enchanted wight.

  The fruitless blow Orrilo does deride,

  While the two baffled warriors rage for spite.

  Let him who falling silver has espied

  (Which mercury by alchymists is hight)

  Scatter, and reunite each broken member,

  Hearing my tale, what he has seen remember.

  LXXI

  If the thief's head be severed by the pair,

  He lights and staggers till he finds it; now

  Uptaken by the nose or by the hair,

  And fastened to the neck, I know not how.

  This sometimes Gryphon takes, and whirled through air,

  Whelms in the stream; but bootless is the throw:

  For like a fish can fierce Orrilo swim;

  And safely, with the head, regains the brim.

  LXXII

  Two ladies, meetly clad in fair array,

  One damsel was in black and one in white,

  And who had been the occasion of that fray,

  Stood by to gaze upon the cruel fight:

  Either of these was a benignant fay,

  Whose care had nourished one and the other knight,

  Oliver's children; when the babes forlorn

  They from the claws of two huge birds had torn.

  LXXIII

  Since, from Gismonda they had these conveyed,

  Borne to a distance from their native sky.

  But more to say were needless, since displaid

  To the whole world has been their history.

  Though the author has the father's name mis-said;

  One for another (how I know not, I)

  Mistaking. Now this fearful strife the pair

  Of warriors waged at both the ladies' prayer.

  LXXIV

  Though it was noon in the happy islands, day

  Had vanished in this clime, displaced by night;

  And, underneath the moon's uncertain ray,

  And ill-discerned, were all things hid from sight;

  When to the fort Orrilo took his way.

  Since both the sable sister and the white

  Were pleased the furious battle to defer,

  Till a new sun should in the horizon stir.

  LXXV

  The duke, who by their ensigns, and yet more

  Had by the sight of many a vigorous blow,

  Gryphon and Aquilant long time before

  Agnized, to greet the brethren was not slow:

  And they, who in the peer, victorious o'er

  The giant, whom he led a captive, know

  The BARON OF THE PARD, (so styled at court)

  Him to salute, with no less love resort.

  LXXVI

  The ladies to repose the warriors led

  To a fair palace near, their sumptuous seat:

  Thence issuing courtly squire and damsel sped,

  Them with lit torches in mid-way to meet.

  Their goodly steeds they quit, there well bested,

  Put off their arms, and in a garden sweet

  Discern the ready supper duly laid

  Fast by, where a refreshing fountain played.

  LXXVII

  Here they bid bind the giant on the green,

  Fast-tethered by a strong and weighty chain

  To a tough oak, whose ancient trunk they ween

  May well be proof against a single strain;

  With that, by ten good serjeants overseen,

  Lest he by night get loose, and so the train

  Assault and haply harm; while careless they

  Without a guard and unsuspecting lay.

  LXXVIII

  At the abundant and most sumptuous board,

  With costly viands (its least pleasure) fraught,

  The longest topic for discourse afford

  Orrilo's prowess, and the marvel wrought;

  For head or arm dissevered by the sword,

  They (who upon the recent wonder thought)

  Might think a dream to see him re-unite,

  And but return more furious to the fight.

  LXXIX

  Astolpho in his book had found exprest

  (That which prescribed a remedy for spell)

  How he who of one hair deprived the pest

  Only could him in battle hope to quell:

  But this plucked out or sheared, he from his breast

  Parforce the felon's spirit would expell.

  So says the volume; but instructs not where,

  'Mid locks so thickly set, to find the hair.

  LXXX

  The duke no less with hope of conquest glows

  Than if the palm he has already won;

  As he that hopes with small expense of blows

  To pluck the hair, the wizard-wight undone.

  Hence does he to the youthful pair propose

  The burden of that enterprize upon

  Himself to take: Orrilo will he slay,

  If the two brethren nought the intent gainsay,

  LXXXI

  But willingly to him these yield the emprize,

  Assured his toil will be bestowed in vain;

  And now a new Aurora climbs the skies,

  And from his walls Orrilo on the plain

  Drops, — and the strife begins — Orrilo plies

  The mace, the duke the sword; he 'mid a rain

  Of strokes would from the body at one blow

  Divorce the spirit of the enchanted foe:

  LXXXII

  Together with the mace he lops the fist;

  And now this arm, now the other falls to ground;

  Sometimes he cleaves the corslet's iron twist,

  And piecemeal shares and maims the felon round.

  Orrilo re-unites the portions missed,

  Found on the champagne, and again is sound:

  And, though into a hundred fragments hewed,

  Astolpho sees him, in a thought, renewed.

  LXXXIII

  After a thousand blows, Astolpho sped

  One stroke, above the shoulders and below

  The chin, which lopt away both helm and head:

  Nor lights the duke less swiftly than his foe.

  Then grasps the hair defiled with gore and red,

  Springs in a moment on his horse, and lo!

  Up-stream with it along Nile's margin hies,

  So that the thief cannot retake the prize.

  LXXXIV

  That fool, who had not marked the warrior's feat,

  Was searching in the dust to find his head;

  But when he heard the charger in retreat,

  Who through the forest with the plunder fled,

  Leapt quickly into his own courser's seat,

  And in pursuit of bold Astolpho sped.

  Fain had Orrilo shouted "Hola! stay!"

  But that the duke had borne his mouth away:

  LXXXV

  Yet pleased Astolpho had not in like guise

  Borne off his heels, pursues with flowing rein.

  Him Rabican, who marvellously flies,

  Distances by a mighty length of plain.

  This while the wizard's head Astolpho eyes

  From poll to front, above the eyebrows twain,

  Searching, in haste, if he the hair can see

  Which makes Orrilo's immortality.

  LXXXVI

  Amid innumerable locks, no hair

  Straiter or crisper than the rest was seen.

  How then should good Astolpho, in his care

  To slay the thief, so many choose between?

  "To cut them all (he said) it better were."

  And since he scissors lacked and razor keen,

  He wanting these, resorted to his glaive,

  Which cut so well, it might be said to shave.

  LXXXVII

  And, holding, by the nose, the severed head,

  Close-sheared it all, behind and eke before.

  He found, among the rest, the fatal thread.

  Then pale became the visage, changing sore,

  Turned up its eyes, and signals sore and dread

  Of the last agony of nature wore;

  And the headless body seated in the sell,

  Shuddered its last, and from the courser fell.

  LXXXVIII

  The duke returns where he the champions two

  And dames had left, the trophy in his hand,

  Which manifests of death the tokens true;

  And shows the distant body on the sand.

  I know not if they this with pleasure view,

  Though him they welcome with demeanour bland:

  For the intercepted victory might pain

  Perchance inflict upon the envying twain.

  LXXXIX

  Nor do I think that either gentle fay

  With pleasure could that battle's issue see:

  Since those kind dames, because they would delay

  The doleful fate which shortly was to be

  In France the brethren's lot, had in that fray

  With fierce Orrilo matched the warriors free;

  And so to occupy the pair had cast,

  Till the sad influence of the skies were past.

  XC

  When to the castellan was certified

  In Damietta, that the thief was dead,

  He loosed a carrier pigeon, having tied

  Beneath her wing a letter by a thread.

  She went to Cairo; and, to scatter wide

  The news, another from that town was sped

  (Such is the usage there); so, Egypt through,

  In a few hours the joyful tidings flew.

  XCI

  As he had brought the adventure to an end,

  The duke now sought the noble youths to stir,

  (Though of themselves that way their wishes tend,

  Nor they to whet that purpose need the spur)

  That they the Church from outrage to defend,

  And rights of Charles, the Roman Emperor,

  Would cease to war upon that Eastern strand,

  And would seek honour in their native land.

  XCII

  Gryphon and Aquilant thus bid adieu,

  One and the other, to his lady fair;

  Who, though it sorely troubled them, ill knew

  How to resist the wishes of the pair.

  The duke, together with the warlike two,

  Turns to the right, resolved to worship, where

  God erst incarnate dwelt, the holy places,

  Ere he to cherished France his way retraces.

  XCIII

  The warriors to the left-hand might incline,

  As plainer and more full of pleasant cheer,

  Where still along the sea extends their line;

  But take the right-hand path, abrupt and drear;

  Since the chief city of all Palestine,

  By six days' journey, is, through this, more near.

  Water there is along this rugged track,

  And grass; all other needful matters lack.

  XCIV

  So that, before they enter on their road,

  All that is needful they collect, and lay

  Upon the giant's back the bulky load,

  Who could a tower upon his neck convey.

  The Holy Land a mountain-summit showed,

  At finishing their rough and salvage way;

  Where HEAVENLY LOVE a willing offering stood,

  And washed away our errors with his blood.

  XCV

  They, at the entrance of the city, view

  A gentle stripling; and in him the three

  Agnize Sir Sansonet of Mecca, who

  Was, in youth's flower, for sovereign chivalry,

  For sovereign goodness, famed the country through,

  And wise beyond his years: from paganry

  Converted by Orlando to the truth,

  Who had, with his own hands, baptized the youth.

  XCVI

  Designing there a fortilage, in front

  Of Egypt's caliph they the warrior found;

  And with a wall two miles in length, the mount

  Of Calvary intending to surround.

  Received with such a countenance, as is wont

  To be of inward love the surest ground,

  Them he conducted to his royal home,

  And, with all comfort, harboured in the dome.

  XCVII

  As deputy, the sainted land he swayed,

  Conferred on him by Charlemagne, in trust,

  To him the English duke a present made

  Of that so sturdy and unmeasured beast,

  That it ten draught horse burdens had conveyed;

  So monstrous was the giant, and next gave

  The net, in which he took the unwieldy slave.

  XCVIII

  In quittance, Sansonet, his sword to bear,

  Gave a rich girdle to Astolpho bold,

  And spurs for either heel, a costly pair,

  With bucklers and with rowels made of gold;

  Which ('twas believed) the warrior's relicts were,

  Who freed the damsel from that dragon old;

  Spoils, which Sir Sansonet, with many more,

  From Joppa, when he took the city, bore

  XCIX

  Cleansed of their errors in a monastery,

  From whence the odour of good works upwent,

  They of Christ's passion every mystery

  Contemplating, through all the churches went;

  Which now, to our eternal infamy,

  Foul Moor usurp; what time on strife intent,

  All Europe rings with arms and martial deeds,

  And war is everywhere but where it needs.

  C

  While grace the warlike three devoutly sought,

  Intent on pardon and on pious lore,

  A Grecian pilgrim, known to Gryphon, brought

  Tidings, which ill the afflicted champion bore,

  From his long-cherished vow and former thought,

  Too foreign, too remote; and these so sore

  Inflamed his troubled breast, and bred such care,

  They wholly turned aside his mind from prayer.

  CI

  For his misfortune, one of lovely feature

  Sir Gryphon worshipped, Origilla hight.

  Of fairer visage and of better stature,

  Not one among a thousand meets the sight:

  But faithless, and of such an evil nature,

  That thou mightst town and city search outright,

  And continent and island, far and near,

  Yet, never, as I think, wouldst find her peer.

  CII

  In Constantine's imperial city, burned

  With a fierce fever, he had left the fair;

  And hoped to find her, to that place returned,

  Lovelier than ever; and enjoy her there.

  But she to Antioch (as the warrior learned)

  Had with another leman made repair;

  Thinking, while such fresh youth was yet her own,

  'Twere not a thing to brook — to sleep alone.

  CIII

  Sir Gryphon, from the time he heard the news

  Had evermore bemoaned him, day or night:

  Whatever pleasure other wight pursues

  Seems but the more to vex his troubled sprite.

  Let each reflect, who to his mischief woos,

  How keenly tempered are Love's darts of might,

  And, heavier than all ills, the torment fell,

  In that he was ashamed his grief to tell.

  CIV

  This: for that Aquilant had oft before

  Reproved him for the passion which he nursed,

  And sought to banish her from his heart's core;

  — Her, who of all bad women is the worst,

  He still had censured, in his wiser lore,

  If by his brother Aquilant accurst,

  Her Gryphon, in his partial love, excuses,

  For mostly self-conceit our sense abuses.

  CV

  It therefore is his purpose, without say

  To Aquilant, alone to take the quest

  As far as Antioch, and bear her away,

  Who had borne off his heart-core from his breast:

  To find him, who had made the dame his prey,

  And take such vengeance of him, ere he rest,

  As shall for aye be told. My next will tell

  How he effected this, and what befell.