Orlando Furioso Part 123

Brandimart sees his risque, and at the foe Is by his steed, with flowing bridle, borne.

Sobrino on the head he smote and flung; But straight from earth that fierce old man upsprung;

Lx.x.xIX And turned anew to Olivier, to speed The warrior's soul more promptly on its way; Or at the least that baron to impede.

And him beneath his courser keep at bay: Bold Olivier, whose better arm was freed, And with his sword could fend him as he lay, Meanwhile so smites and longes, there and here, That at sword's length he holds the ancient peer.

XC He hopes, if him but little he withstood, He shall be straight delivered from that pain: He sees him wholly strained and wet with blood, And that he spills so much from open vein, 'Twould seem he speedily must be subdued, So weak he hardly can himself sustain.

Often and oft to rise the Marquis strove, Yet could not from beneath his courser move.

XCI Brandimart has found out the royal Moor, And storms about that paynim cavalier; Upon Frontino, like a lathe, before, Beside, or whirling in the warrior's rear.

A goodly horse the Christian champion bore; Nor worse the southern king's in the career: That Brigliador, Rogero's gift he crost, Erewhile, by haughty Mandricardo lost.

XCII Great vantage has he, on another part: Of proof and perfect is his iron weed.

His at a venture took Sir Brandimart, As he could have in haste in suchlike need; But hopes (his anger puts him so in heart) To change it for a better coat with speech; Albeit the Moorish king, with bitter blow, Has made the blood from his right should flow.

XCIII Him in the flank Grada.s.so too had gored; (Nor this was laughing matter) so had scanned His vantage that redoubted paynim lord, He found a place wherein to plant his brand; He broke the warrior's s.h.i.+eld, his left arm bored, And touched him slightly in the better hand.

But this was play, was pastime (might be said), With Roland's and Grada.s.so's battle weighed.

XCIV Grada.s.so has Orlando half disarmed; Atop and on both sides his helm has broke: Fallen is his s.h.i.+eld, his cuira.s.s split; but harmed The warrior is not by the furious stroke, Which opened plate and mail; for he is charmed; And worser vengeance on the king has wroke, In face, throat, breast has gored that cavalier, Beside the wounds whereof I spake whilere.

XCV Grada.s.so, desperate when he descried Himself all wet, and smeared with sanguine dye, And Roland, all from head to foot espied, After such mighty strokes unstained and dry, Thinking head, breast, and belly to divide, With both his hands upheaved his sword on high; And, even as he devised, upon the front, Smote with mid blade Anglantes' haughty count.

XCVI And would by any other so have done; -- Would to the saddle-tree have cleft him clean: But the good sword, as if it fell upon Its flat, rebounds again, unstained and sheen.

The furious stroke astounded Milo's son By whom some scattered stars on earth were seen.

He drops the bridle and would drop the brand, But that a chain secures it to his hand.

XCVII So by the noise was scared the horse that bore Upon his back Anglantes' cavalier.

The courser scowered about the powdery sh.o.r.e, Showing how good his speed in the career: The County by that stroke astounded sore, Has not the power the frightened horse to steer.

Grada.s.so follows and will reach him, so That he but little more pursues the foe;

XCVIII But turning round, beholds the royal Moor To the utmost peril in that battle brought; For by the s.h.i.+ning helmet which he wore, With the left hand, him Brandimart had caught; Already had unlaced the casque before, And with his dagger would new ill have wrought: Nor much defence could make the Moorish lord; For Brandimart as well had reft his sword.

XCIX Grada.s.so turned, nor more Orlando sought, But hastened where he Agramant espied: The incautious Brandimart, suspecting nought Orlando would have let him turn aside, Had not Grada.s.so in his eyes or thought, And to the paynim's throat his knife applied.

Grada.s.so came, and at his helmet layed, Wielding with either hand his trenchant blade.

C Father of heaven! 'mid spirits chosen by thee, To him thy martyr true, a place accord; Who, having traversed his tempestuous sea, Now furls his sails in port. Ah! ruthless sword, So cruel, Durindana, can'st thou be, To good Orlando, to thine ancient lord, That thou can'st slaughter, in the warrior's view, Of all his friends the dearest and most true?

CI An iron ring that girt his helmet round, Two inches thick, was broke by that fell blow And cleft; and with the solid iron bound, Was parted the good cap of steel below, Bold Brandimart, reversed upon the ground, With haggard face beside his horse lies low; And issuing widely from the warrior's head A stream of life-blood dyes the s.h.i.+ngle red.

CII Come to himself, the County turns his eye And sees his Brandimart upon the plain, And in such act Grada.s.so standing by As clearly shows by whom the knight was slain.

If he most raged or grieved I know not, I, But such short time is left him to complain, His hasty wrath breaks forth, his grief gives way; But now 'tis time that I suspend my lay.

CANTO 42

ARGUMENT The victory with Count Orlando lies; But good Rinaldo and Bradamant at heart, (One for Angelica, the other sighs For young Rogero) suffer cruel smart.

Him that in chase of the Indian damsel hies Disdain preserves; from thence does he depart Towards Italy, and is with courteous cheer And welcome guested by a cavalier.

I What bit, what iron curb is to be found, Or (could it be) what adamantine rein, That can make wrath keep order and due bound, And within lawful limits him contain?

When one, to whom the constant heart is bound And linked by Love with solid bolt and chain, We see, through violence or through foul deceit, With mortal damage or dishonour meet.

II And is the mind sometimes, if so possest, To ill and savage action led astray, It may deserve excuse; in that the breast No more is under Reason's sovereign sway.

Achilles, when, beneath his borrowed crest, He saw Patroclus crimsoning the way, Was with his murderer's slaughter ill content, Till he his mangled corse had dragged and shent.

III Unconquered Duke Alphonso, anger so Inflamed thy host the day that weighty stone Wounded thy forehead with such grievous blow, That all believed it to its rest was gone; -- Inflamed them with such fury, for the foe In rampart, fosse, or wall, defence was none, Who, one and all, within their works lay dead, Nor wight was left the woeful news to spread.

IV Seeing thy fall caused thine such mighty pain, They were to fury moved; hadst thou, my lord, Maintained thy footing, haply might thy train Have with less licence plied the murderous sword.

Enough for thee thy Bastia to regain!

In fewer hours replaced beneath thy ward, Then Cordova's and fierce Granada's band Took days erewhile, to wrest it from thy hand.

V Haply Heaven's vengeance ordered what befel, And in that case thy wound so hindered thee To the end, the cruel outrage, foul and fell, Done by that band before, should punished be.

For after the unhappy Vestidel, Wearied and hurt, had sought their clemency, Among them (mostly an unchristened train) He, mid a hundred swords, unarmed, was slain.

VI To end; I say that other rage is none Which can be weighed with that in equal wise, Which kindles, when an injury is done To kinsman, friend or lord before our eyes.

Then justly in Orlando's heart, for one So dear to him, might sudden fury rise; When him he saw, extended on the sand, Slain by the stroke of fierce Grada.s.so's brand.

VII As nomade swain, who darting on its way In slippery line the horrid snake has seen, That his young son, amid the sands at play, Has killed with venomed tooth, enflamed with spleen, Grasps his batoon, the poisonous worm to slay; His sword, than every other sword more keen, So, in his fury grasped Anglantes' knight, And wreaked on Agramant his first despite,

VIII Scaped, bleeding, with helm loosened form his head, With half a s.h.i.+eld and swordless, through his mail, Sore wounded in more places than is said; As from the dull or envious falcon's nail, Escapes the unhappy sparrowhawk, half dead, With ruffled plumage and with loss of tail.

On him Orlando came and smote him just Where with the helmed head confined the bust.

IX Loosed was the helm, the neck without its band: So, like a rush, was severed by the sword.

Down-fell, and shook its last upon the sand The heavy trunk of Libya's mighty lord.

His spirit, which flitted to the Stygian strand, Charon with crooked boat-hook dragged aboard.

On him Orlando wastes no further pain, But, sword in hand, seeks him of Sericane.

X As the headless trunk of Africk's cavalier Extended on the sh.o.r.e Grada.s.so's viewed, (What never had befallen him whilere) He shook at heart, a troubled visage shewed, And, at the coming of Anglantes' peer, Presageful of his fate, appears subdued: Nor seeks he means of fence against his foe, When fierce Orlando deals the fatal blow.

XI Orlando levels at his better side, Beneath the lowest rib, his faulchion bright; And crimsoned to the hilt, a hand's breadth wide Of the other flank, the sword appears in sight; And well his mighty puissance testified, And spoke him as the strongest living knight That stroke, by which a warrior was undone, Better than whom in Paynimry was none.

XII Little his victory good Orlando cheers: Himself he quickly from his saddle throws; And, with a face disturbed, and wet with tears, To his Brandimart in haste the warrior goes; The field about him red with blood appears, His helmet cleft as by a hatchet's blows; And, had it been than spungy rind more frail, Would have defended him no worse than mail.

XIII Orlando lifts the helmet, and descries Brandimart's head by that destructive brand Cleft even to his nose, between the eyes; Yet so the wounded knight his spirits manned, That pardon of the king of Paradise He, before death, was able to demand, And to exhort to patience Brava's peer, Whose manly cheeks were wet with many a tear;

XIV And -- "Roland, in thy helping orisons, I Beseech thee to remember me," he cried, "Nor recommend to thee less warmly my --"

-- Flordelice would, but could not, say -- and died; And sounds and songs of angels in the sky, As the soul parts, are heard on every side; Which from its prison freed, mid hymns of love, Ascends into the blissful realms above.

XV Orlando, albeit he should joy in heart At death so holy, and is certified That called to bliss above is Brandimart; For he heaven opened to the knight described; Through human wilfulness -- which aye takes part With our weak senses -- hardly can abide The loss of one, above a brother dear, Nor can refrain from many a scalding tear.

XVI Warlike Sobrino, of much blood bereaved, Which from his flank and wounded visage rained, Long since had fallen, reversed and sore aggrieved, And had by now his vessels well nigh drained.

Olivier too lies stretched; nor has retrieved, Nor can retrieve, his crippled foot, save sprained, And almost crushed; so long between the plain, And his stout courser jammed, the limb has lain;

XVII And but Orlando helped (so woe begone Was weeping Olivier, and brought so low) He could not have released his limb alone; And, when released, endures such pain, such woe, The helpless warrior cannot stand upon, Or s.h.i.+ft withal his wounded foot, and so Benumbed and crippled is the leg above, That he without a.s.sistance cannot move.

XVIII The victory brought Orlando small delight; On whom too heavily and hardly weighed Of slaughtered Brandimart the piteous sight; Nor sure of Oliviero's life he made.

Sobrino yet survived; but little light The wounded monarch had, amid much shade: For almost spend his ebbing life remained So fast from him the crimson blood had drained.

XIX The County has him taken, bleeding sore; Thither, where he is saved with sovereign care; And he as if a kinsman of the Moor, Benignly comforts him and speaks him fair: For in Orlando, when the strife was o'er, Was nothing evil; ever prompt to spare.

He from the dead their arms and coursers reft, The rest he to their knives' disposal left.