Guido and his from that foul haunt retire,
  While all Astolpho chases with his horn,
  Who to all quarters of the town sets fire,
  Then roving singly round the world is borne.
  Marphisa, for Gabrina's cause, in ire
  Puts upon young Zerbino scathe and scorn,
  And makes him guardian of Gabrina fell,
  From whom he first learns news of Isabel.


  Great fears the women of antiquity

  In arms and hallowed arts as well have done,

  And of their worthy works the memory

  And lustre through this ample world has shone.

  Praised is Camilla, with Harpalice,

  For the fair course which they in battle run.

  Corinna and Sappho, famous for their lore,

  Shine two illustrious light, to set no more.


  Women have reached the pinnacle of glory,

  In every art by them professed, well seen;

  And whosoever turns the leaf of story,

  Finds record of them, neither dim nor mean.

  The evil influence will be transitory,

  If long deprived of such the world had been;

  And envious men, and those that never knew

  Their worth, have haply hid their honours due.


  To me it plainly seems, in this our age

  Of women such is the celebrity,

  That it may furnish matter to the page,

  Whence this dispersed to future years shall be;

  And you, ye evil tongues which foully rage,

  Be tied to your eternal infamy,

  And women's praises so resplendent show,

  They shall, by much, Marphisa's worth outgo.


  To her returning yet again; the dame

  To him who showed to her such courteous lore,

  Refused not to disclose her martial name,

  Since he agreed to tell the style be bore.

  She quickly satisfied the warrior's claim;

  To learn his title she desired so sore.

  "I am Marphisa," the virago cried:

  All else was known, as bruited far and wide.


  The other, since 'twas his to speak, begun

  With longer preamble: "Amid your train,

  Sirs, it is my belief that there is none

  But has heard mention of my race and strain.

  Not Pontus, Aethiopia, Ind alone,

  With all their neighbouring realms, but France and Spain

  Wot well of Clermont, from whose loins the knight

  Issued who killed Almontes bold in fight,


  "And Chiareillo and Mambrino slew,

  And sacked the realm whose royal crown they wore.

  Come of this blood, where Danube's waters, through

  Eight horns or ten to meet the Euxine pour,

  Me to the far-renowned Duke Aymon, who

  Thither a stranger roved, my mother bore.

  And 'tis a twelvemonth now since her, in quest

  Of my French kin, I left with grief opprest.


  "But reached not France, for southern tempest's spite

  Impelled me hither; lodged in royal bower

  Ten months or more; for — miserable wight! —

  I reckon every day and every hour.

  Guido the Savage I by name am hight,

  Ill known and scarcely proved in warlike stower.

  Here Argilon of Meliboea I

  Slew with ten warriors in his company.


  "Conqueror as well in other field confessed,

  Ten ladies are the partners of my bed:

  Selected at my choice, who are the best

  And fairest damsels in this kingdom bred:

  These I command, as well as all the rest,

  Who of their female band have made me head;

  And so would make another who in fight,

  Like me, ten opposites to death would smite."


  Sir Guido is besought of them to say

  Why there appear so few of the male race,

  And to declare if women there bear sway

  O'er men, as men o'er them in other place.

  He: "Since my fortune has been here to stay,

  I oftentimes have heard relate the case;

  And now (according to the story told)

  Will, since it pleases you, the cause unfold.


  "When, after twenty years, the Grecian host

  Returned from Troy (ten years hostility

  The town endured, ten weary years were tost

  The Greeks, detained by adverse winds at sea),

  They found their women had, for comforts lost,

  And pangs of absence, learned a remedy;

  And, that they might not freeze alone in bed,

  Chosen young lovers in their husbands' stead.


  "With others' children filled the Grecian crew

  Their houses found, and by consent was past

  A pardon to their women; for they knew

  How ill they could endure so long a fast.

  But the adulterous issue, as their due,

  To seek their fortunes on the world were cast:

  Because the husbands would not suffer more

  The striplings should be nourished from their store.


  "Some are exposed, and others underhand

  Their kindly mothers shelter and maintain:

  While the adults, in many a various band,

  Some here, some there dispersed, their living gain.

  Arms are the trade of some, by some are scanned

  Letters and arts; another tills the plain:

  One serves in court, by other guided go

  The herd as pleases her who rules below.


  "A boy departed with they youthful peers,

  Who was of cruel Clytemnestra born;

  Like lily fresh (he numbered eighteen years)

  Or blooming rose, new-gathered from the thorn.

  He having armed a bark, his pinnace steers

  In search of plunder, o'er the billows borne.

  With him a hundred other youths engage,

  Picked from all Greece, and of their leader's age.


  "The Cretans, who had banished in that day

  Idomeneus the tyrant of their land,

  And their new state to strengthen and upstay,

  Were gathering arms and levying martial band,

  Phalantus' service by their goodly pay

  Purchased (so hight the youth who sought that strand),

  And all those others that his fortune run,

  Who the Dictaean city garrison.


  "Amid the hundred cities of old Crete,

  Was the Dictaean the most rich and bright;

  Of fair and amorous dames the joyous seat,

  Joyous with festive sports from morn to night:

  And (as her townsmen aye were wont to greet

  The stranger) with such hospitable rite

  They welcomed these, it little lacked but they

  Granted them o'er their households sovereign sway.


  "Youthful and passing fair were all the crew,

  The flower of Greece, who bold Phalantus led;

  So that with those fair ladies at first view,

  Stealing their hearts, full well the striplings sped.

  Since, fair in deed as show, they good and true

  Lovers evinced themselves and bold in bed.

  And in few days to them so grateful proved,

  Above all dearest things they were beloved.


  "After the war was ended on accord,

  For which were hired Phalantus and his train,

  And pay withdrawn, nor longer by the sword

  Was aught which the adventurous youth can gain,

  And they, for this, anew would go aboard,

  The unhappy Cretan women more complain,

  And fuller tears on this occasion shed,

  That if their fathers lay before them dead.


  "Long time and sorely all the striplings bold

  Were, each apart, by them implored to stay:

  Who since the fleeting youths they cannot hold,

  Leave brother, sire, and son, with these to stray,

  Of jewels and of weighty sums of gold

  Spoiling their households ere they wend their way,

  For so well was the plot concealed, no wight

  Throughout all Crete was privy to their flight.


  "So happy was the hour, so fair the wind,

  When young Phalantus chose his time to flee,

  They many miles had left the isle behind,

  Ere Crete lamented her calamity.

  Next, uninhabited by human kind,

  This shore received them wandering o'er the sea.

  'Twas here they settled, with the plunder reft,

  And better weighed the issue of their theft.


  "With amorous pleasures teemed this place of rest,

  For ten days, to that roving company:

  But, as oft happens that in youthful breast

  Abundance brings with it satiety,

  To quit their women, with one wish possest,

  The band resolved to win their liberty;

  For never burden does so sore oppress

  As woman, when her love breeds weariness.


  "They, who are covetous of spoil and gain,

  And ill-bested withal in stipend, know

  That better means are wanted to maintain

  So many paramours, than shaft and bow;

  And leaving thus alone the wretched train,

  Thence, with their riches charged the adventurers go

  For Puglia's pleasant land: there founded near

  The sea, Tarentum's city, as I hear.


  "The women when they find themselves betrayed

  Of lovers by whose faith they set most store,

  For many days remain so sore dismayed,

  That they seem lifeless statues on the shore.

  But seeing lamentations nothing aid,

  And fruitless are the many tears they pour,

  Begin to meditate, amid their pains,

  What remedy for such an ill remains.


  "Some laying their opinions now before

  The others, deem that to return to Crete

  Is in their sad estate the wiser lore,

  Throwing themselves at sire and husband's feet,

  Than in those wilds, and on that desert shore,

  To pine of want. Another troop repeat,

  They should esteem it were a worthier notion

  To cast themselves into the neighbouring ocean;


  "And lighter ill, if they as harlots went

  About the world, — beggars or slaves to be,

  Than offer up themselves for punishment,

  Well merited by their iniquity.

  Such and like schemes the unhappy dames present,

  Each harder than the other. Finally,

  One Orontea amid these upstood,

  Who drew her origin from Minos' blood.


  "Youngest and fairest of the crew betrayed

  She was, and wariest, and who least had erred,

  Who to Phalantus' arms had come a maid,

  And left for him her father: she in word,

  As well as in a kindling face, displayed

  How much with generous wrath her heart was stirred;

  Then, reprobating all advised before,

  Spake; and adopted saw her better lore.


  "She would not leave the land they were upon,

  Whose soil was fruitful, and whose air was sane,

  Throughout which many limpid rivers ran,

  Shaded with woods, and for the most part plain;

  With creek and port, where stranger bark could shun

  Foul wind or storm, which vexed the neighbouring main,

  That might from Afric or from Egypt bring

  Victual or other necessary thing.


  "For vengeance (she opined) they there should stay

  Upon man's sex, which had so sore offended.

  She willed each bark and crew which to that bay

  For shelter from the angry tempest wended,

  They should, without remorse, burn, sack, and slay,

  Nor mercy be to any one extended.

  Such was the lady's motion, such the course

  Adopted; and the statute put in force.


  "The women, when they see the changing heaven

  Turbid with tempest, hurry to the strand,

  With savage Orontea, by whom given

  Was the fell law, the ruler of the land;

  And of all barks into their haven driven

  Make havoc dread with fire and murderous brand,

  Leaving no man alive, who may diffuse

  Upon this side or that the dismal news.


  " 'Twas thus with the male sex at enmity,

  Some years the lonely women lived forlorn:

  Then found that hurtful to themselves would be

  The scheme, save changed; for if from them were born

  None to perpetuate their empery,

  The idle law would soon be held in scorn,

  And fail together with the fruitful reign,

  Which they had hoped eternal should remain.


  "So that some deal its rigour they allay,

  And in four years, of all who made repair

  Thither, by chance conducted to this bay,

  Chose out ten vigorous cavaliers and fair;

  That for endurance in the amorous play

  Against those hundred dames good champions were:

  A hundred they; and, of the chosen men,

  A husband was assigned to every ten.


  "Ere this, too feeble to abide the test,

  Many a one on scaffold lost his head.

  Now these ten warriors so approved the best,

  Were made partakers of their rule and bed;

  First swearing at the sovereign ladies' hest,

  That they, if others to that port are led,

  No mercy shall to any one afford,

  But one and all will put them to the sword.


  "To swell, and next to child, and thence to fear

  The women turned to teeming wives began

  Lest they in time so many males should bear

  As might invade the sovereignty they plan,

  And that the government they hold so dear

  Might finally from them revert to man.

  And so, while these are children yet, take measure,

  They never shall rebel against their pleasure.


  "That the male sex may not usurp the sway,

  It is enacted by the statute fell,

  Each mother should one boy preserve, and slay

  The others, or abroad exchange or sell.

  For this, they these to various parts convey,

  And to the bearers of the children tell,

  To truck the girls for boys in foreign lands,

  Or not, at least, return with empty hands.


  "Nor by the women one preserved would be,

  If they without them could the race maintain.

  Such all their mercy, all the clemency

  The law accords for theirs, not others' gain.

  The dames all others sentence equally;

  And temper but in this their statute's pain,

  That, not as was their former practice, they

  All in their rage promiscuously slay.


  "Did ten or twenty persons, or yet more,

  Arrive, they were imprisoned and put by;

  And every day one only from the store

  Of victims was brought out by lot to die,

  In fane by Orontea built, before

  An altar raised to Vengeance; and to ply

  As headsman, and dispatched the unhappy men,

  One was by lot selected from the ten.


  "To that foul murderous shore by chance did fare,

  After long years elapsed, a youthful wight,

  Whose fathers sprung from good Alcides were,

  And he, of proof in arms, Elbanio hight;

  There was he seized, of peril scarce aware,

  As unsuspecting such a foul despite:

  And, closely guarded, into prison flung,

  Kept for like cruel use the rest among.


  "Adorned with every fair accomplishment,

  Of pleasing face and manners was the peer,

  And of a speech so sweet and eloquent,

  Him the deaf adder might have stopt to hear;

  So that of him to Alexandria went

  Tidings as of a precious thing and rare.

  She was the daughter of that matron bold,

  Queen Orontea, that yet lived, though old.


  "Yet Orontea lived, while of that shore

  The other settlers all were dead and gone;

  And now ten times as many such or more

  Had into strength and greater credit grown.

  Nor for ten forges, often closed, in store

  Have the ill-furnished band more files than one;

  And the ten champions have as well the care

  To welcome shrewdly all who thither fare.


  "Young Alexandria, who the blooming peer

  Burned to behold so praised on every part,

  The special pleasure him to see and hear,

  Won from her mother; and, about to part

  From him, discovers that the cavalier

  Remains the master of her tortured heart;

  Finds herself bound, and that 'tis vain to stir,

  — A captive made by her own prisoner.


  " `I pity,' (said Elbanio) 'lady fair,

  Was in this cruel region known, as through

  All other countries near or distant, where

  The wandering sun sheds light and colouring hue,

  I by your beauty's kindly charms should dare

  (Which make each gentle spirit bound to you)

  To beg my life; which always, at your will,

  Should I be ready for your love to spill.


  " `But since deprived of all humanity

  Are human bosoms in this cruel land,

  I shall not now request my life of thee,

  (For fruitless would, I know, be the demand)

  But, whether a good knight or bad I be,

  Ask but like such to die with arms in hand,

  And not as one condemned to penal pain;

  Or like brute beast in sacrifice be slain.'


  "The gentle maid, her eye bedimmed with tear,

  In pity for the hapless youth, replied:

  `Though this land be more cruel and severe

  Than any other country, far and wide,

  Each woman is not a Medaea here

  As thou wouldst make her; and, if all beside

  Were of such evil kind, in me alone

  Should an exception to the rest be known.


  " `And though I, like so many here, of yore

  Was full of evil deeds and cruelty,

  I can well say, I never had before

  A fitting subject for my clemency.

  But fiercer were I than a tiger, more

  Hard were my heart than diamonds, if in me

  All hardness did not vanish and give place

  Before your courage, gentleness, and grace.


  " `Ah! were the cruel statute less severe

  Against the stranger to these shores conveyed!

  So should I not esteem my death too dear

  A ransom for thy worthier life were paid.

  But none is here so great, sir cavalier,

  Nor of such puissance as to lend thee aid;

  And what thou askest, though a scanty grace,

  Were difficult to compass in this place.


  " `And yet will I endeavour to obtain

  For thee, before thou perish, this content;

  Though much, I fear, 'twill but augment thy pain.

  And thee protracted death but more torment.'

  `So I the ten encounter,' (said again

  Elbanio), `I at heart, am confident

  Myself to save, and enemies to slay;

  Though made of iron were the whole array.'


  "To this the youthful Alexandria nought

  Made answer, saving with a piteous sigh;

  And from the conference a bosom brought,

  Gored with deep wounds, beyond all remedy.

  To Orontea she repaired, and wrought

  On her to will the stripling should not die,

  Should he display such courage and such skill

  As with his single hand the ten to kill.


  "Queen Orontea straightway bade unite

  Her council, and bespoke the assembled band:

  `It still behoves us place the prowest wight

  Whom we can find, to guard our ports and strand.

  And, to discover whom to take or slight,

  'Tis fitting that we prove the warrior's hand;

  Lest, to our loss, the election made be wrong,

  And we enthrone the weak and slay the strong.


  " `I deem it fit, if you the counsel shown

  Deem fit as well, in future to ordain,

  That each upon our coast by Fortune thrown,

  Before he in the temple shall be slain,

  Shall have the choice, instead of this, alone

  Battle against ten others to maintain;

  And if he conquer, shall the port defend

  With other comrades, pardoned to that end.


  " `I say this, since to strive against our ten,

  It seems, that one imprisoned here will dare:

  Who, if he stands against so many men,

  By Heaven, deserves that we should hear his prayer;

  But if he rashly boasts himself, again

  As worthily due the punishment should bear.'

  Here Orontea ceased; on the other side,

  To her the oldest of the dames replied.


  " `The leading cause, for which to entertain

  This intercourse with men we first agreed,

  Was not because we, to defend this reign,

  Of their assistance stood in any need;

  For we have skill and courage to maintain

  This of ourselves, and force, withal, to speed.

  Would that we could in all as well avail

  Without their succour, nor succession fail!


  " `But since this may not be, we some have made

  (These few) partakers of our company;

  That, ten to one, we be not overlaid;

  Nor they possess them of the sovereignty.

  Not that we for protection need their aid,

  But simply to increase and multiply.

  Than be their powers to this sole fear addressed,

  And be they sluggards, idle for the rest.


  " `To keep among us such a puissant wight

  Our first design would render wholly vain.

  If one can singly slay ten men in fight,

  How many women can he not restrain?

  If our ten champions had possessed such might,

  They the first day would have usurped the reign.

  To arm a hand more powerful than your own

  Is an ill method to maintain the throne.


  " `Reflect withal, that if your prisoner speed

  So that he kill ten champions in the fray,

  A hundred women's cry, whose lords will bleed

  Beneath his falchion, shall your ears dismay.

  Let him not 'scape by such a murderous deed;

  But, if he would, propound some other way.

  — Yet if he of those ten supply the place,

  And please a hundred women, grant him grace.'


  "This was severe Artemia's sentiment,

  (So was she named) and had her counsel weighed,

  Elbanio to the temple had been sent,

  To perish by the sacrificial blade.

  But Orontea, willing to content

  Her daughter, to the matron answer made;

  And urged so many reasons, and so wrought,

  The yielding senate granted what she ought.


  "Elbanio's beauty (for so fair to view

  Never was any cavalier beside)

  So strongly works upon the youthful crew,

  Which in that council sit the state to guide,

  That the opinion of the older few

  That like Artemia think, is set aside;

  And little lacks but that the assembled race

  Absolve Elbanio by especial grace.


  "To pardon him in fine the dames agreed:

  But, after slaying his half-score, and when

  He in the next assault as well should speech,

  Not with a hundred women, but with ten;

  And, furnished to his wish with arms and steed,

  Next day he was released from dungeon-den,

  And singly with ten warriors matched in plain,

  Who by his arm successively were slain.


  "He to new proof was put the following night,

  Against ten damsels naked and alone;

  When so successful was the stripling's might,

  He took the 'say of all the troop, and won

  Such grace with Orontea, that the knight

  Was by the dame adopted for her son;

  And from her Alexandria had to wife,

  With those whom he had proved in amorous strife.


  "And him she left with Alexandria, heir

  To this famed city, which from her was hight,

  So he and all who his successors were,

  Should guard the law which willed, whatever wight,

  Conducted hither by his cruel star,

  Upon this miserable land did light,

  Should have his choice to perish by the knife,

  Or singly with ten foes contend to strife.


  "And if he should dispatch the men by day,

  At night should prove him with the female crew;

  And if so fortunate that in this play

  He proved again the conqueror, he, as due,

  The female band, as prince and guide, should sway,

  And his ten consorts at his choice renew:

  And reign with them, till other should arrive

  Of stouter hand, and him of life deprive.


  "They for two thousand years nigh past away

  This usage have maintained, and yet maintain

  The impious rite; and rarely passes day

  But stranger wight is slaughtered in the fane.

  If he, Elbanio-like, ten foes assay,

  (And such sometimes is found) he oft is slain

  In the first charge: nor, in a thousand, one

  The other feat, of which I spake, has done,


  "Yet some there are have done it, though so few,

  They may be numbered on the fingers; one

  Of the victorious cavaliers, but who

  Reigned with his ten short time, was Argilon:

  For, smote by me, whom ill wind hither blew,

  The knight to his eternal rest is gone.

  Would I with him that day had filled a grave,

  Rather than in such scorn survive a slave!


  "For amorous pleasures, laughter, game, and play,

  Which evermore delight the youthful breast;

  The gem, the purple garment, rich array,

  And in his city place before the rest.

  Little, by Heaven, the wretched man appay

  Who of his liberty is dispossest:

  And not to have the power to leave this shore

  To me seems shameful servitude and sore.


  "To know I wear away life's glorious spring

  In such effeminate and slothful leisure

  Is to my troubled heart a constant sting,

  And takes away the taste of every pleasure.

  Fame bears my kindred's praise on outstretched wing,

  Even to the skies; and haply equal measure

  I of the glories of my blood might share

  If I united with my brethren were.


  "Methinks my fate does such injurious deed

  By me, condemned to servitude so base,

  As he who turns to grass the generous steed

  To run amid the herd of meaner race,

  Because unfit for war or worthier meed,

  Through blemish, or disease of sight or pace.

  Nor hoping but by death, alas! to fly

  So vile a service, I desire to die."


  Here Guido ceased to address the martial peers,

  And cursed withal the day, in high disdain,

  That he achieved o'er dames and cavaliers

  The double victory which bestowed that reign.

  Astolpho hides his name, and silent hears,

  Until to him by many a sign is plain

  That this Sir Guido is, as he had said,

  The issue of his kinsman Aymon's bed.


  Then cried: "The English duke, Astolpho, I

  Thy cousin am," and clipt him round the waist,

  And in a kindly act of courtesy,

  Not without weeping, kist him and embraced.

  Then, "Kinsman dear, thy birth to certify

  No better sign thy mother could have placed

  About thy neck. Enough! that sword of thine,

  And courage, vouch thee of our valiant line."


  Guido, who gladly would in other place

  So near a kin have welcomed, in dismay

  Beholds him here and with a mournful face;

  Knowing, if he himself survives the fray,

  Astolpho will be doomed to slavery base,

  His fate deferred but till the following day;

  And he shall perish, if the duke is free:

  So that one's good the other's ill shall be.


  He grieves, as well, the other cavaliers

  Should through his means for ever captive be;

  Nor, that he should, if slain, those martial peers

  Deliver by his death from slavery.

  Since if Marphisa from one quicksand clears

  The troop, yet these from other fails to free,

  She will have won the victory in vain;

  For they will be enslaved, and she be slain.


  On the other hand, the stripling's age, in May

  Of youth, with courtesy and valour fraught,

  Upon the maid and comrades with such sway,

  Touching their breasts with love and pity, wrought

  That they of freedom, for which he must pay

  The forfeit of his life, nigh loathed the thought;

  And if Marphisa him perforce must kill,

  She is resolved as well herself to spill.


  "Join thou with us," she to Sir Guido cried,

  "And we from hence will sally." — "From within

  These walls to sally" — Guido on his side

  Answered, "Ne'er hope: With me you lose or win."

  "— I fear not, I," the martial maid replied,

  "To execute whatever I begin;

  Nor know what can securer path afford

  Than that which I shall open with my sword.


  "Such proof of thy fair prowess have I made,

  With thee I every enterprise would dare.

  To-morrow when about the palisade

  The crowds assembled in the circus are,

  Let us on every side the mob invade,

  Whether they fly or for defence prepare;

  Then give the town to fire, and on their bed

  Of earth to wolf and vulture leave the dead."


  He: "Ready shalt thou find me in the strife

  To follow thee or perish at thy side:

  But let us hope not to escape with life.

  Enough, is vengeance somedeal satisfied

  Ere death; for oft ten thousand, maid and wife,

  I in the place have witnessed; and, outside,

  As many castle, wall and port, defend.

  Nor know I certain way from hence to wend."


  "And were there more (Marphisa made reply)

  Than Xerxes led, our squadrons to oppose,

  More than those rebel spirits from the sky

  Cast out to dwell amid perpetual woes,

  All in one day should by this weapon die,

  Wert thou with me, at least, not with my foes."

  To her again, "No project but must fail,

  (Sir Guido said) I know, save this avail."


  "This only us can save, should it succeed;

  This, which but now remembered I shall teach.

  To dames alone our laws the right concede

  To sally, or set foot upon the beach,

  And hence to one of mine in this our need

  Must I commit myself, and aid beseech;

  Whose love for me, by perfect friendship tied,

  Has oft by better proof than this been tried.


  "No less than me would she desire that I

  Should 'scape from slavery, so she went with me;

  And that, without her rival's company,

  She of my lot should sole partaker be.

  She bark or pinnace, in the harbour nigh,

  Shall bid, while yet 'tis dark, prepare for sea;

  Which shall await your sailors, rigged and yare

  For sailing, when they thither shall repair.


  "Behind me, in a solid band comprest,

  Ye merchants, mariners and warriors, who,

  Driven to this city, have set up your rest

  Beneath this roof (for which my thanks are due)

  — You have to force your way with stedfast breast,

  If adversaries interrupt our crew.

  'Tis thus I hope, by succour of the sword,

  To clear a passage through the cruel horde."


  "Do as thou wilt," Marphisa made reply,

  "I of escape am confident withal:

  And likelier 'twere that by my hand should die

  The martial race, encompassed by this wall,

  Than any one should ever see me fly,

  Or guess by other sign that fears appall.

  I would my passage force in open day,

  And shameful in my sight were other way.


  "I wot if I were for a woman known,

  Honour and place from women I might claim,

  Here gladly entertained, and classed as one

  Haply among their chiefs of highest fame:

  But privilege or favour will I none

  Unshared by those with whom I hither came.

  Too base it were, did I depart or free

  Remain, to leave the rest in slavery."


  These speeches by Marphisa made, and more,

  Showed that what only had restrained her arm

  Was the respect she to the safety bore

  Of the companions whom her wrath might harm;

  By this alone withheld form taking sore

  And signal vengeance on the female swarm.

  And hence she left in Guido's care to shape

  What seemed the fittest means for their escape.


  Sir Guido speaks that night with Alery

  (So the most faithful of his wives was hight)

  Nor needs long prayer to make the dame agree,

  Disposed already to obey the knight.

  She takes a ship and arms the bark for sea,

  Stowed with her richest chattels for their flight;

  Feigning design, as soon as dawn ensues,

  To sail with her companions on a cruise.


  She into Guido's palace had before

  Bid sword and spear and shield and cuirass bear;

  With the intent to furnish from this store,

  Merchants and sailors that half naked were.

  Some watch, and some repose upon the floor,

  And rest and guard among each other share;

  Oft marking, still with harness on their backs,

  If ruddy yet with light the orient wax.


  Not yet from earth's hard visage has the sun

  Lifted her veil of dim and dingy dye;

  Scarcely Lycaon's child, her furrow done,

  Has turned about her ploughshare in the sky;

  When to the theatre the women run

  Who would the fearful battle's end espy,

  As swarming bees upon their threshold cluster,

  Who bent on change of realm in springtide muster.


  With warlike trumpet, drum, and sound of horn,

  The people make the land and welkin roar;

  Summoning thus their chieftain to return,

  And end of unfinished warfare. Covered o'er

  With arms stand Aquilant and Gryphon stern,

  And the redoubted duke from England's shore.

  Marphisa, Dudo, Sansonet, and all

  The knights or footmen harboured in that hall.


  Hence to descend towards the sea or port

  The way across the place of combat lies;

  Nor was there other passage, long or short.

  Sir Guido so to his companions cries:

  And having ceased his comrades to exhort,

  To do their best set forth in silent wise,

  And in the place appeared, amid the throng,

  Head of a squad above a hundred strong.


  Toward the other gate Sir Guido went,

  Hurrying his band, but, gathered far and nigh

  The mighty multitude, for aye intent

  To smite, and clad in arms, when they descry

  The comrades whom he leads, perceive his bent,

  And truly deem he is about to fly.

  All in a thought betake them to their bows,

  And at the portal part the knight oppose.


  Sir Guido and the cavaliers who go

  Beneath that champion's guidance, and before

  The others bold Marphisa, were not slow

  To strike, and laboured hard to force the door.

  But such a storm of darts from ready bow,

  Dealing on all sides death or wounding sore,

  Was rained in fury on the troop forlorn,

  They feared at last to encounter skaith and scorn.


  Of proof the corslet was each warrior wore,

  Who without this would have had worse to fear:

  Sansonnet's horse was slain, and that which bore

  Marphisa: to himself the English peer

  Exclaimed, "Why wait I longer? As if more

  My horn could ever succour me than here.

  Since the sword steads not, I will make assay

  If with my bugle I can clear the way."


  As he was customed in extremity,

  He to his mouth applied the bugle's round;

  The wide world seemed to tremble, earth and sky,

  As he in air discharged the horrid sound.

  Such terror smote the dames, that bent to fly,

  When in their ears the deafening horn was wound,

  Not only they the gate unguarded left,

  But from the circus reeled, of wit bereft.


  As family, awaked in sudden wise,

  Leaps from the windows and from lofty height,

  Periling life and limb, when in surprise

  They see, now near, the fire's encircling light,

  Which had, while slumber sealed their heavy eyes,

  By little and by little waxed at night:

  Reckless of life, thus each, impelled by dread,

  At sound of that appalling bugle fled.


  Above, below, and here and there, the rout

  Rise in confusion and attempt to fly.

  At once, above a thousand swarm about

  Each entrance, to each other's lett, and lie

  In heaps: from window these, or stage without,

  Leap headlong; in the press these smothered die.

  Broken is many an arm, and many a head;

  And one lies crippled, and another dead.


  Amid the mighty ruin which ensued,

  Cries pierce the very heavens on every part.

  Where'er the sound is heard, the multitude,

  In panic at the deafening echo, start.

  When you are told that without hardihood

  Appear the rabble, and of feeble heart,

  This need not more your marvel; for by nature

  The hare is evermore a timid creature.


  But of Marphisa what will be your thought,

  And Guido late so furious? — of the two

  Young sons of Olivier, that lately wrought

  Such deeds in honour of their lineage? who

  Lately a hundred thousand held as nought,

  And now, deprived of courage, basely flew,

  As ring-doves flutter and as coneys fly,

  Who hear some mighty noise resounding nigh.


  For so to friend as stranger, noxious are

  The powers that in the enchanted horn reside.

  Sansonet, Guido, follow, with the pair

  Or brethren bold, Marphisa terrified.

  Nor flying, can they to such distance fare,

  But that their ears are dinned. On every side

  Astolpho, on his foaming courser borne,

  Lends louder breath to his enchanted horn.


  One sought the sea, and one the mountain-top,

  One fled the hide herself in forest hoar;

  And this, who turned not once nor made a stop,

  Not for ten days her headlong flight forbore:

  These from the bridge in that dread moment drop,

  Never to climb the river's margin more.

  So temple, house and square and street were drained,

  That nigh unpeopled the wide town remained.


  Marphisa, Guido, and the brethren two,

  With Sansonetto, pale and trembling, hie

  Towards the sea, and behind these the crew

  Of frighted mariners and merchants fly;

  And 'twixt the forts, in bark, prepared with view

  To their escape, discover Alery;

  Who in sore haste receives the warriors pale,

  And bids them ply their oars and make all sail.


  The duke within and out the town had bear

  From the surrounding hills to the sea-side,

  And of its people emptied every street.

  All fly before the deafening sound, and hide:

  Many in panic, seeking a retreat,

  Lurk, in some place obscure and filthy stied;

  Many, not knowing whither to repair,

  Plunge in the neighbouring sea, and perish there.


  The duke arrives, seeking the friendly band,

  Whom he had hoped to find upon the quay;

  He turns and gazes round the desert strand,

  And none is there — directs along the bay

  His eyes, and now, far distant from the land,

  Beholds the parting frigate under way.

  So that the paladin, for his escape —

  The vessel gone — must other project shape.


  Let him depart! nor let it trouble you

  That he so long a road must beat alone;

  Where, never without fear, man journeys through

  Wild paynim countries: danger is there none,

  But what he with his bugle may eschew,

  Whose dread effect the English duke has shown;

  And let his late companions be our care,

  Who trembling to the beach had made repair.


  They from that cruel and ensanguined ground

  To seaward, under all their canvas, bore;

  And having gained such offing, that the sound

  Of that alarming horn was heard no more,

  Unwonted shame inflicted such a wound,

  That all a face of burning crimson wore.

  One dares not eye the other, and they stand

  With downcast looks, a mute and mournful band.


  Fixed on his course, the pilot passes by

  Cyprus and Rhodes, and ploughs the Aegean sea:

  Beholds a hundred islands from him fly,

  And Malea's fearful headland; fanned by free

  And constant wind, sees vanish from the eye

  The Greek Morea; rounding Sicily,

  Into the Tuscan sea his frigate veers,

  And, coasting Italy's fair region, steers:


  Last rises Luna, where his family

  Is waiting his return, the patron hoar

  Gives thanks to God at having passed the sea

  Without more harm, and makes the well-known shore.

  Here, offering passage to their company,

  They find a master, ready to unmoor

  For France, and that same day his pinnace climb;

  Thence wafted to Marseilles in little time.


  There was not Bradamant, who used to sway

  The land, and had that city in her care,

  And who (if present there) to make some stay

  Would have compelled them by her courteous prayer.

  They disembarked; and that same hour away

  Did bold Marphisa at a venture fare;

  Bidding adieu to salvage Guido's wife,

  And to the four, her comrades in the strife:


  Saying she deems unfitting for a knight

  To fare in like great fellowship; that so

  The starlings and the doves in flock unite,

  And every beast who fears — the stag and doe;

  But hawk and eagle, that in other's might

  Put not their trust, for ever singly go;

  And lion, bear, and tyger, roam alone,

  Who fear no prowess greater than their own.


  But none with her opine, and, in the lack

  Of a companion, singly must she fare,

  So then, alone and friendless, she a track

  Uncouth pursues, and through a wooded lair.

  Gryphon the white and Aquilant the black

  Take road more beaten with the other pair;

  And on the following day a castle see,

  Within which they are harboured courteously.


  Courteously I, in outward show, would say;

  For soon the contrary was made appear.

  Since he, the castellain, who with display

  Of kindness sheltered them and courteous cheer,

  The night ensuing took them as they lay

  Couched in their beds, secure and void of fear.

  Nor from the snare would he his prisoners loose,

  Till they had sworn to observe an evil use.


  But I will first pursue the martial maid,

  Ere more of these, fair sir, I shall proclaim.

  Beyond the Durence, Rhone, and Saone she strayed,

  And to the foot of sunny mountain came;

  And there approaching in black gown arrayed,

  Beside a torrent, saw an ancient dame;

  Who with long journey weak, and wearied sore,

  Appeared, but pined by melancholy more.


  This was the beldam who had wont to ply

  Serving the robbers in the caverned mount;

  Whither stern Justice sent (that they might die

  By that good paladin) Anglante's count.

  The aged harridan, for cause which I

  To you shall in another place recount,

  Now many days by path obscure had flown,

  Still fearing lest her visage should be known.


  The semblance now of foreign cavalier

  She in Marphisa saw, in arms and vest;

  And hence she flies not her, though wont to fear,

  (As being natives of that land) the rest;

  — Nay, with security and open cheer,

  Stops at the ford the damsel to arrest:

  Stops at the ford — where that old beldam meets

  Marphisa, and with fair encounter greets.


  And next implored the maid, she of her grace

  Would bear her on the croupe to the other shore.

  Marphisa, who was come of gentle race,

  The hag with her across the torrent bore;

  And is content to bear, till she can place

  In a securer road the beldam hoar,

  Clear of a spacious marish: as its end

  They see a cavalier towards them wend.


  In shining armour and in fair array,

  The warrior rode on saddle richly wrought

  Towards the river, and upon his way

  With him a single squire and damsel brought.

  Of passing beauty was the lady gay,

  But little pleasing was her semblance haught;

  All overblown with insolence and pride,

  Worthy the cavalier who was her guide.


  He of Maganza was a count, who bore

  The lady with him (Pinabello hight):

  The same who Bradamant, some months before,

  Had plunged into a hollow cave in spite.

  Those many sobs, those burning sighs and sore,

  Those tears which had nigh quenched the warrior's sight, —

  All for the damsel were, now at his side;

  And then by that false necromancer stied.


  But when the magic tower upon the hill

  Was razed, the dwelling of Atlantes hoar,

  And every one was free to rove at will,

  Through Bradamant's good deed and virtuous lore,

  The damsel, who had been compliant still

  With the desires of Pinabel before,

  Rejoined him, and now journeying in a round

  With him, from castle was to castle bound.


  As wanton and ill-customed, when she spies

  Marphisa's aged charge approaching near,

  She cannot rein her saucy tongue, but plies

  Here, in her petulance, with laugh and jeer.

  Marphisa haught, unwont in any wise

  Outrage from whatsoever part to hear,

  Makes answer to the dame, in angry tone,

  That handsomer than her she deems the crone.


  And that she this would prove upon her knight

  With pact that she might strip the bonnibell

  Of gown and palfrey, if, o'erthrown in fight,

  Her champion from his goodly courser fell.

  — In silence to have overpast the slight

  Would have been sin and shame in Pinabel,

  Who for short answer seized his shield and spear,

  And wheeled, and drove at her in fierce career.


  Marphisa grasped a mighty lance, and thrust,

  Encountering him, at Pinabello's eyes;

  And stretched him so astounded in the dust,

  That motionless an hour the warrior lies.

  Marphisa, now victorious in the just,

  Gave orders to strip off the glorious guise

  And ornaments wherewith the maid was drest,

  And with the spoils her ancient crone invest;


  And willed that she should don the youthful weed,

  Bedizened at the haughty damsel's cost;

  And took away as well the goodly steed

  Which her had thither borne, and — bent to post

  On her old track — with her the hag will speed,

  Who seems most hideous when adorned the most.

  Three days the tedious road the couple beat,

  Without adventure needful to repeat.


  On the fourth day they met a cavalier,

  Who came in fury galloping alone.

  If you the stranger's name desire to hear,

  I tell you 'twas Zerbino, a king's son,

  Of beauty and of worth example rare,

  Now grieved and angered, as unvenged of one,

  Who a great act of courtesy, which fain

  The warrior would have done, had rendered vain.


  Vainly the young Zerbino, through the glade,

  Had chased that man of his, who this despite

  Had done him, who himself so well conveyed

  Away and took such 'vantage in his flight,

  So hid by wood and mist, which overlaid

  The horizon and bedimmed the morning-light,

  That he escaped Zerbino's grasp, and lay

  Concealed until his wrath was past away.


  Zerbino laughed parforce, when he descried

  That beldam's face, though he was full of rage;

  For too ill-sorted seemed her vest of pride

  With her foul visage, more deformed by age;

  And to the proud Marphisa, at her side

  The prince, exclaimed, "Sir warrior, you are sage,

  In having chosen damsel of a sort,

  Whom none, I ween, will grudge you should escort."


  Older than Sibyl seemed the beldam hoar,

  (As far as from her wrinkles one might guess),

  And in the youthful ornaments she wore,

  Looked like an ape which men in mockery dress;

  And now appears more foul, as angered sore,

  While rage and wrath her kindled eyes express.

  For none can do a woman worse despite

  Than to proclaim her old and foul to sight.


  To have sport of him — as she had — an air

  Of wrath the maid assumed upon her part,

  And to the prince, "By Heaven, more passing fair

  Is this my lady than thou courteous art,"

  Exclaimed in answer; "though I am aware

  What thou hast uttered comes not from thy heart.

  Thou wilt not own her beauty; a device

  Put on to masque thy sovereign cowardice.


  "And of what stamp would be that cavalier

  Who found such fair and youthful dame alone,

  Without protection, in the forest drear,

  Nor sought to make the lovely weft his own?"

  — "So well she sorts with thee," replied the peer,

  " `Twere ill that she were claimed by any one:

  Nor I of her would thee in any wise

  Deprive; God rest thee merry with thy prize!


  "But would thou prove what is my chivalry,

  On other ground I to thy wish incline;

  Yet deem me not of such perversity

  As to tilt with thee for this prize of thine.

  Or fair or foul, let her remain thy fee;

  I would not, I, such amity disjoin.

  Well are ye paired, and safely would I swear

  That thou as valiant art as she is fair."


  To him Marphisa, "Thou in thy despite

  Shalt try to bear from me the dame away.

  I will not suffer that so fair a sight

  Thou shouldst behold, nor seek to gain the prey."

  To her the prince, "I know not wherefore wight

  Should suffer pain and peril in affray,

  Striving for victory, where, for his pains,

  The victor losses, and the vanquished gains."


  "If this condition please not, other course

  Which ill thou canst refuse, I offer thee,"

  (Marphisa cried): "If thou shalt me unhorse

  In this our tourney, she remains with me:

  But if I win, I give her thee parforce.

  Then prove we now who shall without her be.

  Premised, if loser, thou shalt be her guide,

  Wherever it may please the dame to ride."


  "And be it so," Zerbino cried, and wheeled

  Swiftly his foaming courser for the shock,

  And rising in his stirrups scowered the field,

  Firm in his seat, and smote, with levelled stock,

  For surer aim, the damsel in mid-shield;

  But she sate stedfast as a metal rock,

  And at the warrior's morion thrust so well,

  She clean out-bore him senseless from the sell.


  Much grieved the prince, to whom in other fray

  The like misfortune had not chanced before,

  Who had unhorsed some thousands in his day:

  Now shamed, he thought for ever. Troubled sore,

  And mute long space upon the ground he lay,

  And, when 'twas recollected, grieved the more,

  That he had promised, and that he was bound,

  To accompany the hag where'er she wound.


  Turning about to him the victoress cried,

  Laughing, "This lady I to thee present,

  And the more beauty is in her descried,

  The more that she is thine I am content,

  Now in my place her champion and her guide.

  But do not thou thy plighted faith repent,

  So that thou fail, as promised, to attend

  The dame, wherever she may please to wend."


  Without awaiting answer, to career

  She spurred her horse, and vanished in the wood.

  Zerbino, deeming her a cavalier,

  Cried to the crone, "By whom am I subdued?"

  And, knowing 'twould be poison to his ear,

  And that it would inflame his angered blood,

  She in reply, "It was a damsel's blow

  Which from thy lofty saddle laid thee low.


  "She, for her matchless force, deservedly

  Usurps from cavalier the sword and lance;

  And even from the east is come to try

  Her strength against the paladins of France."

  Not only was his cheek of crimson dye,

  Such shame Zerbino felt as his mischance,

  Little was wanting (so his blushes spread)

  But all the arms he wore had glowed as red.


  He mounts, and blames himself in angry wise,

  In that he had no better kept his seat.

  Within herself the beldam laughs, and tries

  The Scottish warrior more to sting and heat.

  To him for promised convoy she applies;

  And he, who knows that there is no retreat,

  Stands like tired courser, who in pensive fit,

  Hangs down his ears, controlled by spur and bit.


  And, sighing deeply, cries, in his despair,

  "Fell Fortune, with what change dost thou repay

  My loss! she who was fairest of the fair,

  Who should be mine, by thee is snatched away!

  And thinkest thou the evil to repair

  With her whom thou hast given to me this day?

  Rather than make like ill exchange, less cross

  It were to undergo a total loss.


  "Her, who for virtue and for beauteous form

  Was never equalled, nor will ever be,

  Thou on the rocks hast wrecked, in wintry storm,

  As food for fowls and fishes of the sea;

  And her who should have fed the earth-bred worm

  Preserved beyond her date, some ten or score

  Of years, to harass and torment me more."


  So spake Zerbino, and like grief displaid,

  In his despairing words and woful mien,

  For such an odious acquisition made,

  As he had suffered when he lost his queen.

  The aged woman now, from what he said,

  Though she before Zerbino had not seen,

  Perceived 'twas him of whom, in the thieves' hold,

  Isabel of Gallicia erst had told.


  If you remember what was said before,

  This was the hag who 'scaped out of the cave,

  Where Isabella, who had wounded sore

  Zerbino's heart, was long detained a slave;

  Who oft had told how she her native shore

  Had left, and, launching upon ocean's wave

  Her frigate, had been wrecked by wind and swell

  Upon the rocky shallows near Rochelle.


  And she to her Zerbino's goodly cheer

  And gentle features had pourtrayed so well,

  That the hag hearing him, and now more near,

  Letter her eyes upon his visage dwell,

  Discerned it was the youth for whom, whilere,

  Had grieved at heart the prisoned Isabel;

  Whose loss she in the cavern more deplored,

  Than being captive to the murderous horde.


  The beldam, hearing what in rage and grief

  Zerbino vents, perceives the youth to be

  Deceived, and cheated by the false belief

  That Isabel had perished in the sea;

  And though she might have given the prince relief,

  Knowing the truth, in her perversity

  What would have made him joyful she concealed,

  And only what would cause him grief revealed.


  "Hear, you that are so proud," (the hag pursues)

  "And flout me with such insolence and scorn,

  You would entreat me fair to have the news

  I know of her whose timeless death you mourn;

  But to be strangled would I rather choose,

  And be into a thousand pieces torn.

  Whereas if you had made me kinder cheer,

  Haply from me the secret might you hear."


  As the dog's rage is quickly overblown,

  Who flies the approaching robber to arrest,

  If the thief proffer piece of bread or bone,

  Of offer other lure which likes him best;

  As readily Zerbino to the crone

  Humbled himself, and burned to know the rest;

  Who, in the hints of the old woman, read

  That she had news of her he mourned as dead.


  And with more winning mien to her applied,

  And her did supplicate, entreat, conjure,

  By men and gods, the truth no more to hide,

  Did she benign or evil lot endure.

  The hard and pertinacious crone replied,

  "Nought shalt thou hear, thy comfort to assure.

  Isabel has not yielded up her breath,

  But lives a life she would exchange for death.


  "She, since thou heardest of her destiny,

  Within few days, has fallen into the power

  Of more than twenty. If restored to thee,

  Think now, if thou hast hope to crop her flower."

  — "Curst hag, how well thou shapest thy history,

  Yet knowest it is false! Her virgin dower

  Secure from brutal wrong, would none invade,

  Though in the power of twenty were the maid."


  Questioning of the maid, he when and where

  She saw her, vainly asked the beldam hoar,

  Who, ever restive to Zerbino's prayer,

  To what she had rehearsed would add no more.

  The prince in the beginning spoke her fair,

  And next to cut her throat in fury swore.

  But prayers and menaces alike were weak;

  Nor could he make the hideous beldam speak.


  At length Zerbino to his tongue gave rest,

  Since speaking to the woman booted nought;

  Scarcely his heart found room within his breast,

  Such dread suspicion had her story wrought.

  He to find Isabella was so pressed,

  Her in the midst of fire he would have sought;

  But could not hurry more than was allowed

  By her his convoy, since he so had vowed.


  They hence, by strange and solitary way,

  Rove, as the beldam does her will betoken,

  Nor climbing, nor descending hill, survey

  Each other's face, nor any word is spoken.

  But when the sun upon the middle day

  Had turned his back, their silence first was broken

  By cavalier encountered in their way:

  What followed the ensuing strain will say.