Orlando Furioso Part 54

XXVI Nor would the damsel quit the lowly pile (So she esteemed the youth) till he was sound; Such pity first she felt, when him erewhile She saw outstretched and bleeding on the ground.

Touched by his mien and manners next, a file She felt corrode her heart with secret wound; She felt corrode her heart, and with desire, By little and by little warmed, took fire.

XXVII The shepherd dwelt, between two mountains h.o.a.r, In goodly cabin, in the greenwood shade, With wife and children; and, short time before, The brent-new shed had builded in the glade.

Here of his griesly wound the youthful Moor Was briefly healed by the Catayan maid; But who in briefer s.p.a.ce, a sorer smart Than young Medoro's, suffered at her heart.

XXVIII A wound far wider and which deeper lies, Now in her heart she feels, from viewless bow; Which from the boy's fair hair and beauteous eyes Had the winged archer dealt: a sudden glow She feels, and still the flames increasing rise; Yet less she heeds her own than other's woe: -- Heeds not herself, and only to content The author of her cruel ill is bent.

XXIX Her ill but festered and increased the more The stripling's wounds were seen to heal and close: The youth grew l.u.s.ty, while she suffered sore, And, with new fever parched, now burnt, now froze: From day to day in beauty waxed Medore: She miserably wasted; like the snow's Unseasonable flake, which melts away Exposed, in sunny place, to scorching ray.

x.x.x She, if of vain desire will not die, Must help herself, nor yet delay the aid.

And she in truth, her will to satisfy, Deemed 'twas no time to wait till she was prayed.

And next of shame renouncing every tye, With tongue as bold as eyes, pet.i.tion made, And begged him, haply an unwitting foe, To sheathe the suffering of that cruel blow.

x.x.xI O Count Orlando, O king of Circa.s.sy, Say what your valour has availed to you!

Say what your honour boots, what goodly fee Remunerates ye both, for service true!

Sirs, show me but a single courtesy, With which she ever graced ye, -- old or new, -- As some poor recompense, desert, or guerdon, For having born so long so sore a burden!

x.x.xII Oh! couldst thou yet again to life return, How hard would this appear, O Agricane!

In that she whilom thee was wont to spurn, With sharp repulse and insolent disdain.

O Ferrau, O ye thousand more, forlorn, Unsung, who wrought a thousand feats in vain For this ungrateful fair, what pain 'twould be Could you within his arms the damsel see!

x.x.xIII To pluck, as yet untouched, the virgin rose, Angelica permits the young Medore.

Was none so blest as in that garden's close Yet to have set his venturous foot before.

They holy ceremonies interpose, Somedeal to veil -- to gild -- the matter o'er.

Young Love was bridesman there the tie to bless, And for brideswoman stood the shepherdess.

x.x.xIV In the low shed, with all solemnities, The couple made their wedding as they might; And there above a month, in tranquil guise, The happy lovers rested in delight.

Save for the youth the lady has no eyes, Nor with his looks can satisfy her sight.

Nor yet of hanging on his neck can tire, Of feel she can content her fond desire.

x.x.xV The beauteous boy is with her night and day, Does she untent herself, or keep the shed.

Morning or eve they to some meadow stray, Now to this bank, and to that other led: Haply, in cavern harboured, at mid-day, Grateful as that to which Aeneas fled With Dido, when the tempest raged above, The faithful witness to their secret love.

x.x.xVI Amid such pleasures, where, with tree o'ergrown, Ran stream, or bubbling fountain's wave did spin, On bark or rock, if yielding were the stone, The knife was straight at work or ready pin.

And there, without, in thousand places lone, And in as many places graved, within, MEDORO and ANGELICA were traced, In divers cyphers quaintly interlaced.

x.x.xVII When she believed they had prolonged their stay More than enow, the damsel made design In India to revisit her Catay, And with its crown Medoro's head entwine.

She had upon her wrist an armlet, gay With costly gems, in witness and in sign Of love to her by Count Orlando borne, And which the damsel for long time had worn.

x.x.xVIII On Ziliantes, hid beneath the wave, This Morgue bestowed; and from captivity The youth (restored to Monodantes grave, His ancient sire, through Roland's chivalry) To Roland in return the bracelet gave: Roland, a lover, deigned the gorgeous fee To wear, with the intention to convey The present to his queen, of whom I say.

x.x.xIX No love which to the paladin she bears, But that it costly is and wrought with care, This to Angelica so much endears, That never more esteemed was matter rare: This she was suffered, in THE ISLE OF TEARS, I know not by what privilege, to wear, When, naked, to the whale exposed for food By that inhospitable race and rude.

XL She, not possessing wherewithal to pay The kindly couple's hospitality, Served by them in their cabin, from the day She there was lodged, with such fidelity, Unfastened from her arm the bracelet gay, And bade them keep it for her memory.

Departing hence the lovers climb the side Of hills, which fertile France from Spain divide.

XLI Within Valencia or Barcelona's town The couple thought a little to remain, Until some goodly s.h.i.+p should make her boun To loose for the Levant: as so the twain Journey, beneath Gerona, -- coming down Those mountains -- they behold the subject main; And keeping on their left the beach below, By beaten track to Barcelona go.

XLII But, ere they there arrive, a crazed wight They find, extended on the outer sh.o.r.e; Who is bedaubed like swine, in filthy plight, And smeared with mud, face, reins, and bosom o'er'

He comes upon them, as a dog in spite Swiftly a.s.sails the stranger at the door; And is about to do the lovers scorn, But to the bold Marphisa I return --

XLIII Marphisa, Astolpho, Gryphon, Aquilant.

Of these and of the others will I tell: Who, death before their eyes, the vext Levant Traverse, and ill resist the boisterous swell.

While aye more pa.s.sing proud and arrogant, Waxes in rage and threat the tempest fell.

And now three days the angry gale has blown, Nor signal of abatement yet has shown.

XLIV Waves lifted by the waxing tempest start Castle and flooring, and, if yet there be Aught standing left in any other part, 'Tis cut away and cast into the sea.

Here, p.r.i.c.king out their course upon the chart, One by a lantern does his ministry, Upon a sea-chest propt; another wight Is busied in the well by torch's light.

XLV This one beneath the p.o.o.p, beneath the prow That other, stands to watch the ebbing sand; And (each half-gla.s.s run out) returns to know What way the s.h.i.+p has made, and towards what land.

Thence all to speak their different thoughts, below, To mids.h.i.+ps make resort, with chart in hand; There where the mariners, a.s.sembled all, Are met in council, at the master's call.

XLVI One says: "Abreast of Limisso are we Among the shoals" -- and by his reckoning, nigh The rocks of Tripoli and bark must be, Where s.h.i.+pwrecked, for the most part, vessels lie.

Another: "We are lost on Sataly, Whose coast makes many patrons weep and sigh."

According to their judgment, all suggest Their treasons, each with equal dread opprest.

XLVII More spitefully the wind on the third day Blows, and the sea more yeasty billows rears: The fore-mast by the first is borne away, The rudder by the last, with him who steers.

Better than steel that man will bide the a.s.say, -- Of marble breast -- who has not now his fears.

Marphisa, erst so confident 'mid harms, Denied not but that day she felt alarms.

XLVIII A pilgrimage is vowed to Sinai, To Cyprus and Gallicia, and to Rome, Ettino, and other place of sanct.i.ty, If such is named, and to the holy tomb.

Meanwhile, above the sea and near the sky, The bark is tost, with shattered plank and boom; From which the crew had cut, in her distress, The mizenmast, to make her labour less.

XLIX They bale and chest and all their heavy lumber Cast overboard, from p.o.o.p, and prow, and side; And every birth and cabin disenc.u.mber Of merchandize, to feed the greedy tide.

Water to water others of the number Rendered, by whom the spouting pumps were plied.

This in the hold bestirs himself, where'er Planks opened by the beating sea appear.

L They in this trouble, in this woe, remained For full four days; and helpless was their plight, And a full victory the sea had gained, If yet a little had endured its spite: But them with hope of clearer sky sustained The wished appearance of St. Elmo's light, Which (every spar was gone) descending glowed Upon a boat, which in the prow was stowed.

LI When, flaming, they the beauteous light surveyed, All those aboard kneeled down in humble guise, And Heaven for peace and for smooth water prayed, With trembling voices and with watery eyes.

Nor longer waxed the storm, which had dismayed, Till then enduring in such cruel wise.

North-wester or cross-wind no longer reigns; But tyrant of the sea the south remains.

LII This on the sea remained so pa.s.sing strong, And from its sable mouth so fiercely blew, And bore with it so swift a stream and strong Of the vext waters, that it hurried through Their tumbling waves the shattered bark along, Faster than gentle falcon ever flew; And sore the patron feared, to the world's brink It would transport his bark, or wreck or sink.

LIII For this the master finds a remedy, Who bids them cast out spars, and veer away A line which holds this float, and as they flee, So, by two-thirds, their furious course delay.

This counsel boots, and more the augury From him whose lights upon the gunwale play.

This saves the vessel, haply else undone; And makes her through the sea securely run.

LIV They, driven on Syria, in Laiazzo's bay A mighty city rise; so nigh at hand, That they can from the vessel's deck survey Two castles, which the port within command.

Pale turns the patron's visage with dismay, When he perceives what is the neighbouring land, Who will not to the port for shelter hie, Nor yet can keep the open sea, nor fly.

LV They cannot fly, nor yet can keep the sea; For mast and yards are gone, and by the stroke Of the huge billows beating frequently, Loosened is plank, and beam and timber broke: And certain death to make the port would be, Or to be doomed to a perpetual yoke.

For each is made a slave, or sentenced dead, Thither by evil Chance or Error led.

LVI Sore dangerous 'twas to doubt; lest hostile band Should sally from the puissant town in sight, With armed barks, and upon theirs lay hand, In evil case for sea, and worse for fight.

What time the patron knows not what command To give, of him inquires the English knight What kept his mind suspended in that sort, And why at first he had not made the port.

LVII To him relates the patron how a crew Of murderous women tenanted that sh.o.r.e, Which, by their ancient law, enslave or slew All those whom Fortune to this kingdom bore; And that he only could such for eschew That in the lists ten champions overbore, And having this achieved, the following night In bed should with ten damsels take delight.