Orlando Furioso Part 2

But with his plaint her heart no measure keeps, Cold as the column which the builder rears.

Like haughty maid, who holds herself above The world, and deems none worthy of her love.

L But her from harm amid those woods to keep, The damsel weened she might his guidance need; For the poor drowning caitiff, who, chin-deep, Implores not help, is obstinate indeed.

Nor will she, if she let the occasion sleep, Find escort that will stand her in such stead: For she that king by long experience knew Above all other lovers, kind and true.

LI But not the more for this the maid intends To heal the mischief which her charms had wrought, And for past ills to furnish glad amends In that full bliss by pining lover sought.

To keep the king in play are all her ends, His help by some device or fiction bought, And having to her purpose taxed his daring, To rea.s.sume as wont her haughty bearing.

LII An apparition bright and unforeseen, She stood like Venus or Diana fair, In solemn pageant, issuing on the scene From out of shadowy wood or murky lair.

And "Peace be with you," cried the youthful queen, "And G.o.d preserve my honour in his care, Nor suffer that you blindly entertain Opinion of my fame so false and vain!"

LIII Not with such wonderment a mother eyes, With such excessive bliss the son she mourned As dead, lamented still with tears and sighs, Since the thinned files without her boy returned.

-- Not such her rapture as the king's surprise And ecstasy of joy when he discerned The lofty presence, cheeks of heavenly hue, And lovely form which broke upon his view.

LIV He, full of fond and eager pa.s.sion, pressed Towards his Lady, his Divinity; And she now clasped the warrior to her breast, Who in Catay had haply been less free.

And now again the maid her thoughts addressed Towards her native land and empery: And feels, with hope revived, her bosom beat Shortly to repossess her sumptuous seat.

LV Her chances all to him the damsel said, Since he was eastward sent to Sericane By her to seek the martial monarch's aid, Who swayed the sceptre of that fair domain; And told how oft Orlando's friendly blade Had saved her from dishonour, death, and pain; And how she so preserved her virgin flower Pure as it blossomed in her natal hour.

LVI Haply the tale was true; yet will not seem Likely to one of sober sense possessed: But Sacripant, who waked from worser dream, In all without a cavil acquiesced: Since love, who sees without one guiding gleam, Spies in broad day but that which likes him best: For one sign of the afflicted man's disease Is to give ready faith to things which please.

LVII "If good Anglante's lord the prize forbore, Nor seized the fair occasion when he might, The loss be his, if Fortune never more Him to enjoy so fair a prize invite.

To imitate that lord of little lore I think not," said, apart, Circa.s.sa's knight.

"To quit such proffered good, and, to my shame, Have but myself on after-thought to blame.

LVIII "No! I will pluck the fresh and morning rose, Which, should I tarry, may be overblown.

To woman, (this my own experience shows), No deed more sweet or welcome can be done.

Then, whatsoever scorn the damsel shows, Though she awhile may weep and make her moan, I will, unchecked by anger, false or true, Or sharp repulse, my bold design pursue."

LIX This said, he for the soft a.s.sault prepares, When a loud noise within the greenwood shade Beside him, rang in his astounded ears, And sore against his will the monarch stayed.

He donned his helm (his other arms he wears), Aye wont to rove in steel, with belted blade, Replaced the bridle on his courser fleet, Grappled his lance, and sprang into his seat.

LX With the bold semblance of a valiant knight, Behold a warrior threads the forest h.o.a.r.

The stranger's mantle was of snowy white, And white alike the waving plume he wore.

Balked of his bliss, and full of fell despite, The monarch ill the interruption bore, And spurred his horse to meet him in mid s.p.a.ce, With hate and fury glowing in his face.

LXI Him he defies to fight, approaching nigh, And weens to make him stoop his haughty crest: The other knight, whose worth I rate as high, His warlike prowess puts to present test; Cuts short his haughty threats and angry cry, And spurs, and lays his levelled lance in rest.

In tempest wheels Circa.s.sia's valiant peer, And at his foeman's head each aims his spear.

LXII Not brindled bulls or tawny lions spring To forest warfare with such deadly will As those two knights, the stranger and the king.

Their spears alike the opposing bucklers thrill: The solid ground, at their encountering, Trembles from fruitful vale to naked hill: And well it was the mail in which they dressed Their bodies was of proof, and saved the breast.

LXIII Nor swerved the chargers from their destined course; Who met like rams, and b.u.t.ted head to head.

The warlike Saracen's ill-fated horse, Well valued while alive, dropt short and dead: The stranger's, too, fell senseless; but perforce Was roused by rowel from his gra.s.sy bed.

That of the paynim king, extended straight, Lay on his battered lord with all his weight.

LXIV Upright upon his steed, the knight unknown, Who at the encounter horse and rider threw, Deeming enough was in the conflict done, Cares not the worthless warfare to renew; But endlong by the readiest path is gone, And measures, p.r.i.c.king frith and forest through, A mile, or little less, in furious heat, Ere the foiled Saracen regains his feet.

LXV As the bewildered and astonished clown Who held the plough (the thunder storm o'erpast) There, where the deafening bolt had beat him down, Nigh his death-stricken cattle, wakes aghast, And sees the distant pine without its crown, Which he saw clad in leafy honours last; So rose the paynim knight with troubled face, The maid spectatress of the cruel case.

LXVI He sighs and groans, yet not for mischief sore Endured in wounded arm or foot which bled; But for mere shame, and never such before Or after, dyed his cheek so deep a red, And if he rued his fall, it grieved him more His dame should lift him from his courser dead.

He speechless had remained, I ween, if she Had not his prisoned tongue and voice set free.

LXVII "Grieve not," she said, "sir monarch, for thy fall; But let the blame upon thy courser be!

To whom more welcome had been forage, stall, And rest, than further joust and jeopardy; And well thy foe the loser may I call, (Who shall no glory gain) for such is he Who is the first to quit his ground, if aught Angelica of fighting fields be taught."

LXVIII While she so seeks the Saracen to cheer, Behold a messenger with pouch and horn, On panting hackney! -- man and horse appear With the long journey, weary and forlorn.

He questions Sacripant, approaching near, Had he seen warrior pa.s.s, by whom were borne A s.h.i.+eld and crest of white; in search of whom Through the wide forest p.r.i.c.ked the weary groom.

LXIX King Sacripant made answer, "As you see, He threw me here, and went but now his way: Then tell the warrior's name, that I may be Informed whose valour foiled me in the fray."

To him the groom, -- "That which you ask of me I shall relate to you without delay: Know that you were in combat prostrate laid By the tried valour of a gentle maid.

LXX "Bold is the maid; but fairer yet than bold, Nor the redoubted virgin's name I veil: 'Twas Bradamant who marred what praise of old Your prowess ever won with sword and mail."

This said, he spurred again, his story told, And left him little gladdened by the tale.

He recks not what he says or does, for shame, And his flushed visage kindles into flame.

LXXI After the woeful warrior long had thought Upon his cruel case, and still in vain, And found a woman his defeat had wrought, For thinking but increased the monarch's pain, He climbed the other horse, nor spake he aught; But silently uplifted from the plain, Upon the croup bestowed that damsel sweet, Reserved to gladder use in safer seat.

LXXII Two miles they had not rode before they hear The sweeping woods which spread about them, sound With such loud crash and trample, far and near, The forest seemed to tremble all around; And shortly after see a steed appear, With housings wrought in gold and richly bound; Who clears the bush and stream, with furious force And whatsoever else impedes his course.

LXXIII "Unless the misty air," the damsel cries, "And boughs deceive my sight, yon n.o.ble steed Is, sure, Bayardo, who before us flies, And parts the wood with such impetuous speed.

-- Yes, 'tis Bayardo's self I recognize.

How well the courser understands our need!

Two riders ill a foundered jade would bear, But hither speeds the horse to end that care."

LXXIV The bold Circa.s.sian lighted, and applied His hand to seize him by the flowing rein, Who, swiftly turning, with his heels replied, For he like lightning wheeled upon the plain.

Woe to the king! but that he leaps aside, For should he smite, he would not lash in vain.

Such are his bone and sinew, that the shock Of his good heels had split a metal rock.

LXXV Then to the maid he goes submissively, With gentle blandishment and humble mood; As the dog greets his lord with frolic glee, Whom, some short season past, he had not viewed.

For good Bayardo had in memory Albracca, where her hands prepared his food, What time the damsel loved Rinaldo bold; Rinaldo, then ungrateful, stern, and cold.

LXXVI With her left hand she takes him by the bit, And with the other pats his sides and chest: While the good steed (so marvellous his wit), Lamb-like, obeyed the damsel and caressed.

Meantime the king, who sees the moment fit, Leapt up, and with his knees the courser pressed.

While on the palfrey, eased of half his weight, The lady left the croup, and gained the seat.

LXXVII Then, as at hazard, she directs her sight, Sounding in arms a man on foot espies, And glows with sudden anger and despite; For she in him the son of Aymon eyes.

Her more than life esteems the youthful knight, While she from him, like crane from falcon, flies.

Time was the lady sighed, her pa.s.sion slighted; 'Tis now Rinaldo loves, as ill requited.

LXXVIII And this effect two different fountains wrought, Whose wonderous waters different moods inspire.

Both spring in Arden, with rare virtue fraught: This fills the heart with amorous desire: Who taste that other fountain are untaught Their love, and change for ice their former fire.

Rinaldo drank the first, and vainly sighs; Angelica the last, and hates and flies.

LXXIX Mixed with such secret bane the waters glide, Which amorous care convert to sudden hate; The maid no sooner had Rinaldo spied, Than on her laughing eyes deep darkness sate: And with sad mien and trembling voice she cried To Sacripant, and prayed him not to wait The near approach of the detested knight, But through the wood with her pursue his flight.

Lx.x.x To her the Saracen, with anger hot: "Is knightly wors.h.i.+p sunk so low in me, That thou should'st hold my valour cheap, and not Sufficient to make yonder champion flee?

Already are Albracca's fights forgot, And that dread night I singly stood for thee?

That night when I, though naked, was thy s.h.i.+eld Against King Agrican and all his field?"