Canto 11
ARGUMENTAssisted by the magic ring she wears,Angelica evanishes from view.Next in a damsel, whom a giant bearsBeneath his arm, his bride Rogero trueBeholds. Orlando to the shore repairs,Where the fell orc so many damsels slew;Olympia frees, and spoils the beast of life:Her afterwards Oberto takes to wife.
IAlthough a feeble rein, in mid career,Will oft suffice to stop courageous horse;’Tis seldom Reason’s bit will serve to steerDesire, or turn him from his furious course,When pleasure is in reach: like headstrong bear,Whom from the honeyed meal ’tis ill to force,If once he scent the tempting mess, or supA drop, which hangs upon the luscious cup.
IIWhat reason then Rogero shall withholdFrom taking with Angelica delight,—That gentle maid, there naked in his hold,In the lone forest, and secure from sight?Of Bradamant he thinks not, who controlledHis bosom erst: and foolish were the knight,If thinking of that damsel as before,By this he had not set an equal store;
IIIWarmed by whose youthful beauties, the severeXenocrates would not have been more chaste.The impatient Child had dropt both shield and spear,And hurrying now his other arms uncased;When, casting down her eyes in shame and fear,The virtuous ring upon her finger placed,Angelica descried, and which of yoreFrom her Brunello in Albracca bore.
IVThis is the ring she carried into France,When thither first the damsel took her way;With her the brother, bearer of the lance,After, the paladin, Astolpho’s prey.With this she Malagigi’s spells and tranceMade vain by Merlin’s stair; and on a dayOrlando freed, with many knights and good,From Dragontina’s cruel servitude:
VWith this passed viewless from the turret-cell,Where her that bad old man had mewed; but whyRecount its different wonders, if as wellYou know the virtues of the ring as I?From her this even in her citadel,His monarch Agramant to satisfy,Brunello took: since where she had been crostBy Fortune, till her native realm was lost.
VINow that she this upon her hand surveys,She is so full of pleasure and surprise,She doubts it is a dream, and, in amaze,Hardly believes her very hand and eyes.Then softly to her mouth the hoop conveys,And, quicker than the flash which cleaves the skies,From bold Rogero’s sight her beauty shrowds,As disappears the sun, concealed in clouds.
VIIYet still Rogero gazed like wight distraught,And hurried here and there with fruitless speed:But when he had recalled the ring to thought,Foiled and astounded, cursed his little heed.And now the vanished lady, whom he sought,Of that ungrateful and discourteous deedAccusing stood, wherewith she had repaid,(Unfitting recompense) his generous aid.
VIII“Ungrateful damsel! and is this the payYou render for the service done?” (said he)“Why rather would you steal my ring awayThan have it as a welcome gift from me?Not only this, (but use me as you may)I, and my shield and courser, yours shall be;So you no more conceal your beauteous cheer.Cruel, though answering not, I know you hear.”
IXSo saying, like one blind, with bootless care,Feeling his way about the fount he strayed.How often he embraced the empty air,Hoping in this to have embraced the maid!Meanwhile, now far removed, the flying fairHad halted not, till to a cave conveyed.Formed in a mountain was that harbour rude;Spacious, and for her need supplied with food.
X’Twas here an aged herdsman, one who tendedA numerous troop of mares, had made his won:These, seeking pasture, through the valley wended,Where the green grass was fed by freshening run:While stalls on either side the cave, defendedHis charge from the oppressive noon-tide sun;Angelica, within, that livelong day,Unseen of prying eyes, prolonged her stay;
XIAnd about evening, when refreshed with restAnd food, she deemed her course she might renew;In certain rustic weeds her body dressed:How different from those robes of red, or blue,Green, yellow, purple, her accustomed vest,So various in its fashion, shape, and hue!Yet her not so that habit misbecame,But that she looked the fair and noble dame.
XIIThen Phillis’ and Neaera’s praise forbear,And ye who sing of Amaryllis cease,Or flying Galataea, not so fair,Tityrus and Melibaeus, with your peace!’Twas here the beauteous lady took a mare,Which liked her best, of all that herd’s increase.Then, and then first conceived the thought, againTo seek in the Levant her antient reign.
XIIIThis while Rogero, after he had passedLong space in hope the maid might re-appear,Awakened from his foolish dream at last,And found she was not nigh, and did not hear.Then to remount his griffin-courser cast,In earth and air accustomed to career.But, having slipt his bit, the winged horseHad towered and soared in air a freer course.
XIVTo his first ill addition grave and soreWas to have lost the bird of rapid wing,Which he no better than the mockery borePut on him by the maid; but deeper stingThan this or that, implants, and pains him more,The thought of having lost the precious ring;Not for its power so much, esteemed aboveIts worth, as given him by his lady love.
XVAfflicted beyond measure, he, with shieldCast on his shoulder, and new-cased in mail,Left the sea-side, and through a grassy fieldPursued his way, towards a spacious vale:Where he beheld a path, by wood concealed,The widest and most beaten in the dale.Nor far had wound the closest shades within,Ere on his right he heard a mighty din.
XVIHe heard a din, and fearful clashing soundOf arms, and hurrying on with eager pace‘Twixt tree and tree, two furious champions found,Waging fierce fight in close and straightened place:Who to each other (warring on what groundI know not) neither showed regard nor grace.The one a giant was of haughty cheer,And one a bold and gallant cavalier.
XVIICovered with shield and sword, one, leaping, spedNow here now there, and thus himself defended,Lest a two-handed mace upon his headShould fall, with which the giant still offended:—On the field lay his horse, already dead.Rogero paused, and to the strife attended:And straight his wishes leant towards the knight,Whom he would fain see conqueror in the fight:
XVIIIYet not for this would lend the champion aid,But to behold the cruel strife stood nigh.Lo! a two-handed stroke the giant madeUpon the lesser warrior’s casque, and byThe mighty blow the knight was overlaid:The other, when astound he saw him lie,To deal the foe his death, his helm untied,So that the warrior’s face Rogero spied.
XIXOf his sweet lady, of his passing fair,And dearest Bradamant Rogero spiesThe lovely visage of its helmet bare;Towards whom, to deal her death, the giant hies:So that, advancing with his sword in air,To sudden battle him the Child defies,But he, who will not wait for new alarm,Takes the half-lifeless lady in his arm,
XXAnd on his shoulder flings and bears away;As sometimes wolf a little lamb will bear,Or eagle in her crooked claws conveyPigeon, or such-like bird, through liquid air.Rogero runs with all the speed he may,Who sees how needed is his succour there.But with such strides the giant scours the plain,Him with his eyes the knight pursues with pain.
XXIThis flying and that following, the twoKept a close path which widened still, and theyPiercing that forest, issued forth to viewOn a wide meadow, which without it lay.—No more of this. Orlando I pursue,That bore Cymosco’s thunder-bolt away;And this had in the deepest bottom drowned,That never more the mischief might be found.
XXIIBut with small boot: for the impious enemyOf human nature, taught the bolt to frame,After the shaft, which darting from the skyPierces the cloud and comes to ground in flame,Who, when he tempted Eve to eat and dieWith the apple, hardly wrought more scathe and shame,Some deal before, or in our grandsires’ day,Guided a necromancer where it lay.
XXIIIMore than a hundred fathom buried so,Where hidden it had lain a mighty space,The infernal tool by magic from belowWas fished and born amid the German race;Who, by one proof and the other, taught to knowIts powers, and he who plots for our disgrace,The demon, working on their weaker wit,As last upon its fatal purpose hit.
XXIVTo Italy and France, on every handThe cruel art among all people past:And these the bronze in hollow mould expand,First in the furnace melted by the blast:Others the iron bore, and small or grand,Fashion the various tube they pierce or cast.And bombard, gun, according to its frame,Or single cannon this, or double, name.
XXVThis saker, culverine, or falcon hight,I hear (all names the inventor has bestowed);Which splits or shivers steel and stone outright,And, where the bullet passes, makes a road.—Down to the sword, restore thy weapons bright,Sad soldier, to the forge, a useless load;And gun or carbine on thy shoulder lay,Who without these, I wot, shalt touch no pay.
XXVIHow, foul and pestilent discovery,Didst thou find place within the human heart?Through thee is martial glory lost, through theeThe trade of arms became a worthless art:And at such ebb are worth and chivalry,That the base often plays the better part.Through thee no more shall gallantry, no moreShall valour prove their prowess as of yore.
XXVIIThrough thee, alas! are dead, or have to die,So many noble lords and cavaliersBefore this war shall end, which, ItalyAfflicting most, has drowned the world in tears,That, if I said the word, I err not, I,Saying he sure the cruellest appearsAnd worst, of nature’s impious and malign,Who did this hateful engine first design:
XXVIIIAnd I shall think, in order to pursueThe sin for ever, God has doomed to hellThat cursed soul, amid the unhappy crew,Beside the accursed Judas there to dwell.But follow we the good Orlando, whoSo burns to seek Ebuda’s island fell,Whose foul inhabitants a monster sateWith flesh of women, fair and delicate.
XXIXBut no less slow than eager was the knight:The winds appear, which still his course delay;Who, whether blowing on the left or right,Or poop, so faintly in his canvas play,His bark makes little speed; and, spent outright,The breeze which wafts her sometimes dies away,Or blows so foul, that he is fain to steerAnother course, or to the leeward veer.
XXXIt was the will of Heaven that he, beforeThe King of Ireland, should not reach the land,The he with greater ease upon that shoreMight act what shortly you shall understand.“Make for the isle. Now” (said he) “may’st thou moor,”(Thus issuing to the pilot his command),“And give me for my need the skiff; for IWill to the rock without more company.
XXXI“The biggest cable that thou hast aboard,And biggest anchor to my hands consign;Thou shalt perceive why thus my boat is stored,If I but meet that monster of the brine.”He bade them lower the pinnace overboard,With all things that befitted his design:His arms he left behind, except his blade,And singly for the rocky island made.
XXXIIHome to his breast the count pulls either oar,With the island at his back, to which he wends,In guise that, crawling up the sandy shore,The crooked crab from sea or marsh ascends.It was the hour Aurora gay beforeThe rising sun her yellow hair extends(His orb as yet half-seen, half-hid from sight)Not without stirring jealous Tithon’s spite.
XXXIIIApproaching to the naked rock as nearAs vigorous hand might serve to cast a stone,He knew not if he heard, or did not hearA cry, so faint and feeble was the moan.When, turning to the left, the cavalier,His level sight along the water thrown,Naked as born, bound to a stump, espiedA dame whose feet were wetted by the tide.
XXXIVBecause she distant is, and evermoreHolds down her face, he ill can her discern:Both sculls he pulls amain, and nears the shore,With keen desire more certain news to learn:But now the winding beach is heard to roar,And wood and cave the mighty noise return;The billows swell, and, lo! the beast! who pressed,And nigh concealed the sea beneath his breast.
XXXVAs cloud from humid vale is seen to rise,Pregnant with rain and storm, which seems withalTo extinguished day, and charged with deeper dyesThan night, to spread throughout this earthly ball,So swims the beast, who so much occupiesOf sea, he may be said to keep it all.Waves roar: collected in himself, the peerLooks proudly on, unchanged in heart and cheer.
XXXVIHe, as one well resolved in his intent,Moved quickly to perform the feat he planned;And, for he would the damsel’s harm prevent,And would with that assail the beast at hand,Between her and the orc the boat he sent,Leaving within the sheath his idle brand,Anchor and cable next he takes in hold,And waits the foe with constant heart and bold.
XXXVIIAs soon as him the monster has descried,And skiff at little interval, his throatThe fish, to swallow him, expands so wide,That horse and horseman through his jaws might float.Here Roland with the anchor, and beside(Unless I am mistaken) with the boatPlunged, and engulphed the parted teeth betwixt,His anchor in the tongue and palate fixt;
XXXVIIISo that the monster could no longer dropOr raise his horrid jaws, which this extends.’Tis thus who digs the mine is wont to propThe ground, and where he works the roof suspends,Lest sudden ruin whelm him from atop,While he incautiously his task intends.Roland (so far apart was either hook)But by a leap could reach the highest crook.
XXXIXThe prop so placed, Orlando now secureThat the fell beast his mouth no more can close,Unsheathes his sword, and, in that cave obscure,Deals here and there, now thrusts, now trenchant blows.As well as citadel, whose walls immureThe assailants, can defend her from her foes,The monster, harassed by the war within,Defends himself against the Paladin.
XLNow floats the monstrous beast, o’ercome with pain,Whose scaly flanks upon the waves expand;And now descends into the deepest main,Scowers at the bottom, and stirs up the sand.The rising flood ill able to sustain,The cavalier swims forth, and makes for land.He leaves the anchor fastened in his tongue,And grasps the rope which from the anchor hung.
XLISo swimming till the island is attained,With this towards the rock Orlando speeds:He hawls the anchor home (a footing gained),Pricked by whose double fluke, the monster bleeds.The labouring orc to follow is constrained,Dragged by that force which every force exceeds;Which at a single sally more achievesThan at ten turns the circling windlass heaves.
XLIIAs a wild bull, about whose horn is woundThe unexpected noose, leaps here and there,When he has felt the cord, and turns him round,And rolls and rises, yet slips not the snare;So from his pleasant seat and ancient bound,Dragged by that arm and rope he cannot tear,With thousands of strange wheels and thousand slides,The monster follows where the cable guides.
XLIIIThis the red sea with reason would be hightTo-day, such streams of blood have changed its hue;And where the monster lashed it in his spite,The eye its bottom through the waves might view.And now he splashed the sky, and dimmed the lightOf the clear sun, so high the water flew.The noise re-echoing round, the distant shoreAnd wood and hill rebound the deafening roar.
XLIVForth from his grotto aged Proteus hies,And mounts above the surface at the sound;And having seen Orlando dive, and riseFrom the orc, and drag the monstrous fish to ground,His scattered flock forgot, o’er ocean flies;While so the din increases, that, astound,Neptune bids yoke his dolphins, and that dayFor distant Aethiopia posts away.
XLVWith Melicerta on her shoulders, weepingIno, and Nereids with dishevelled hair,The Glauci, Tritons, and their fellows, leapingThey know not whither, speed, some here, some there.Orlando draws to land, the billows sweeping,That horrid fish, but might his labour spare:For, with the torment worn, and travel sore,The brute, exhausted, died, ere dragged ashore.
XLVIOf the islanders had trooped no petty throng,To witness that strange fight, who by a vainAnd miserable superstition stung,Esteemed such holy deed a work profane;And said that this would be another wrongTo Proteus, and provoke his ire again;Make him his herds pour forth upon the strand,And with the whole old warfare vex the land;
XLVIIAnd that it better were to sue for peace,First from the injured god, lest worse ensue;And Proteus from his cruel hate would cease,If they into the sea the offender threw.As torch to torch gives fire, and lights increase,Until the flame is spread the country through,Even so from heart to heart the fury spread,Which in the waves would doom Orlando dead.
XLVIIIThese, armed with sling or bow, upon the shore,And these supplied with spear or sword descend;And on each side, behind him and before,Distant and near, as best they can, offend.At such a brutal insult wonders soreThe peer, who sees that mischief they intend,In vengeance for the cruel monster slain,Whence he had glory hoped, and praise to gain.
XLIXBut as the usage is of surly bear,By sturdy Russ or Lithuanian led,Little to heed the dogs in crowded fair,Nor even at their yelps to turn his head,The clamour of the churls assembled thereOrlando witnessed with as little dread;Who knew that he the rout which threatened death,Had power to scatter at a single breath:
LAnd speedily he made them yield him place,When turned on them, he grasped his trenchant blade.Misjudging of his worth, the foolish raceDeemed that he would have short resistance made;Since him they saw no covering buckler brace,Uncuirassed, nor in other arms arrayed;But knew not that, from head to foot, a skinMore hard than diamond cased the Paladin.
LIWhat by Orlando others cannot do,The knight by others can; at half a scoreOf blows in all he thirty killed; by fewHe passed that measure, if the strokes were more:And had already turned him to undoThe naked lady, having cleared the shore,When other larum sounds, and other criesFrom a new quarter of the island rise.
LIIWhile so the Paladin had kept in playThe barbarous islanders, upon that hand,The men of Ireland, without let or fray,Had poured from many quarters on the strand:And now, without remorse or pity, slayThe inhabitants, through all the wasted land;And, was it justice moved, or cruel rage,Slaughter without regard to sex or age.
LIIILittle or no defender the island-crewAttempt; in part as taken unaware,In part that in the little place are few,And that those few without a purpose are.‘Mid sack and fire, the wasted country through,The islanders are slain, and everwhereThe walls are upon earth in ruin spread,Nor in the land is left a living head.
LIVAs if the mighty tumult which he hears,And shriek and ruin had concerned him nought,The naked rock the bold Orlando nears,Where she was placed, to feed the monster brought.He looks, and known to him the dame appears,And more appears, when nigher her he sought:Olympia she appears, and is indeedOlympia, whose faith reaped so ill a meed.
LVWretched Olympia; whom, beside the scornWhich Love put on her, Fortune too pursued,Who sent the corsairs fell, which her had bornThat very day to the island of Ebude.She Roland recollects on his returnLandward; but, for the damsel naked stood,Not only nought she to the warrior said,But dared not raise her eyes, and dropt her head.
LVIOrlando asks what evil destinyHer to that cruel island had conveyedFrom where she in as much felicityWas with her consort left as could be said:“I know not (cried the weeping dame) if IHave thanks to render thee for death delayed,Or should lament me that, through means of thee,This day did not my woes concluded see.
LVII“I have to thank thee that from death, too dreadAnd monstrous, thy good arm deliverance gave;Which would have been too monstrous, had I fedThe beast, and in his belly found a grave:But cannot thank thee that I am not dead,Since death alone can me from misery save,Well shall I thank thee for that wished relief,Which can deliver me from every grief.”
LVIIINext she related, with loud sobs and sighs,How her false spouse betrayed her as she layAsleep, and how of pirates made the prize,They bore her from the desert isle away.And, as she spake, she turned her in the guiseOf Dian, framed by artists, who pourtrayHer carved or painted, as in liquid fontShe threw the water in Actaeon’s front.
LIXFor, as she can, her waist she hides, and breast,More liberal of flowing flank and reins.Roland desires his ship, to find a vestTo cover her, delivered from her chains:While he is all intent upon this quest,Oberto comes; Oberto, he that reignsO’er Ireland’s people, who had understoodHow lifeless lay the monster of the flood;
LXAnd, swimming, how, amid the watery roar,A knight a weighty anchor in his throatHad fix’d, and so had dragged him to the shore,As men against the current track a boat.This while Oberto comes; who, if his lore,Who told the tale, were true, desires to note;While his invading army, far and wide,Ebuda burn and waste on every side.
LXIOberto, though the Paladin to sightWas dripping, and with water foul and gore;With gore, that from the orc, emerged to light,Whom he had entered bodily, he bore,He for the country knew the stranger knightAs he perused his face; so much the more,That he had thought when told the tidings, noneSave Roland could such mighty fear have done;
LXIIKnew him, because a page of honour heHad been in France, and for the crown, his rightUpon his father’s death, had crossed the seaThe year before. So often he the knightHad seen, and had with him held colloquy,Their times of meeting had been infinite.He doffed his casque, with festive welcome pressedTowards the count, and clasped him to the breast.
LXIIIOrlando is no less rejoined to seeThe king, than is the king that champion true.After with friendly cheer and equal gleeHad once or twice embraced the noble two,To Oberto Roland told the treacheryWhich had been done the youthful dame, and whoHad done it,—false Bireno—that amongAll men should least have sought to do her wrong.
LXIVTo him he told the many proofs and clearBy which the dame’s affection had been tried;And how she for Bireno kin and geerHad lost, and would in fine for him have died.And how he this could warrant, and appearTo vouch for much, as witness on her side.While thus to him her griefs Orlando showed,The lady’s shining eyes with tears o’erflowed.
LXVHer face was such as sometimes in the springWe see a doubtful sky, when on the plainA shower descends, and the sun, openingHis cloudy veil, looks out amid the rain.And as the nightingale then loves to singFrom branch of verdant stem her dulcet strain,So in her beauteous tears his pinions brightLove bathes, rejoicing in the chrystal light.
LXVIThe stripling heats his golden arrow’s headAt her bright eyes, then slacks the weapon’s glowIn streams, which falls between white flowers and red;And, the shaft tempered, strongly draws his bow,And roves at him, o’er whom no shield is spread,Nor iron rind, nor double mail below;Who, gazing on her tresses, eyes, and brow,Feels that his heart is pierced, he knows not how.
LXVIIOlympia’s beauties are of those most rare,Nor is the forehead’s beauteous curve aloneExcellent, and her eyes and cheeks and hair,Mouth, nose, and throat, and shoulders; but, so downDescending from the lady’s bosom fair,Parts which are wont to be concealed by gown,Are such, as haply should be placed beforeWhate’er this ample world contains in store.
LXVIIIIn whiteness they surpassed unsullied snow,Smooth ivory to the touch: above were seenTwo rounding paps, like new-pressed milk in show,Fresh-taken from its crate of rushes green;The space betwixt was like the valley low,Which oftentimes we see small hills between,Sweet in its season, and now such as whenWinter with snows has newly filled the glen.
LXIXThe swelling hips and haunches’ symmetry,The waist more clear than mirror’s polished grain,And members seem of Phidias’ turnery,Or work of better hand and nicer pain.As well to you of other parts should IRelate, which she to hide desired in vain.To sum the beauteous whole, from head to feet,In her all loveliness is found complete.
LXXAnd had she in the Idaean glen unveiledIn ancient days before the Phrygian swain,By how much heavenly Venus had prevailedI know not, though her rivals strove in vain.Nor haply had the youth for Sparta sailed,To violate the hospitable reign;But said: “With Menelaus let Helen rest!No other prize I seek, of this possest”;
LXXIOr in Crotona dwelt, where the divineZeuxis in days of old his work projected,To be the ornament of Juno’s shrine,And hence so many naked dames collected;And in one form perfection to combine,Some separate charm from this or that selected,He from no other model need have wrought.Since joined in her were all the charms he sought.
LXXIII do not think Bireno ever viewedNaked that beauteous form; for sure it wereHe never could have been so stern of mood,As to have left her on that desert lair.That Ireland’s king was fired I well conclude,Nor hid the flame that he within him bare.He strives to comfort her, and hope instill,That future good shall end her present ill.
LXXIIIAnd her to Holland promises to bear,And vows till she is to her state restored,And just and memorable vengeance thereAchieved upon her perjured, traitor lord,He never will unceasing war forbear,Waged with all means that Ireland can afford;And this with all his speed. He, up and down,Meantime bids seek for female vest and gown.
LXXIVNow will it need to send in search of vestBeyond the savage island’s narrow bound,Since thither every day in such came dressed,Some dame, to feed the beast, from countries round.Nor long his followers there pursued the quest,Ere many they of various fashions found.So was Olympia clothed; while sad of moodWas he, not so to clothe her as he wou’d.
LXXVBut never silk so choice or gold so fineDid the industrious Florentine prepare,Nor whosoever broiders gay design,Though on his task be spent time, toil, and care,Nor Lemnos’ god, nor Pallas’ art divine,Form raiment worthy of those limbs so fair,That King Oberto cannot choose but heRecalls them at each turn to memory.
LXXVITo see that love so kindled by the dame,On many grounds Orlando was content;Who not alone rejoiced that such a shamePut upon her, Bireno should repent;But, that in the design on which he came,He should be freed from grave impediment.Not for Olympia thither had he made,But, were his lady there, to lend her aid.
LXXVIITo him, that there she was not, soon was clear,But clear it was not if she had been there,Or no; since of those islesmen, far and near,One was not left the tidings to declare.The following day they from the haven steer,And all united in one squadron fare.The Paladin with them to Ireland hies,From whence to France the warrior’s passage lies.
LXXVIIIScarcely a day in Ireland’s realm he spends:And for no prayers his purposed end forbore:Love, that in quest of his liege-lady sendsThe knight upon this track, permits no more.Departing, he Olympia recommendsTo the Irish monarch, who to serve her swore:Although this needed not; since he was bentMore than behoved, her wishes to content:
LXXIXSo levied in few days his warlike band,And (league with England’s kind and Scotland’s made)In Holland and in Friesland left no landTo the false duke, so rapid was the raid.And to rebel against that lord’s commandHis Zealand stirred; nor he the war delayed,Until by him Bireno’s blood was spilt:A punishment that ill atoned his guilt.
LXXXOberto takes to wife Olympia fair,And her of countess makes a puissant queen.But be the Paladin again our care,Who furrows , night and day, the billows green,And strikes his sails in the same harbour, whereThey to the wind erewhile unfurled had beenAll armed, he on his Brigliadoro leaps,And leaves behind him winds and briny deeps.
LXXXIThe remnant of the winter, he with shieldAnd spear achieved things worthy to be shown,I ween; but these were then so well concealed,It is no fault of mine they are not blown;For good Orlando was in fighting field,Prompter to do, than make his prowess known.Nor e’er was bruited action of the knight,Save when some faithful witness was in sight.
LXXXIIThat winter’s remnant he so passed that featOf his was known not to the public ear;But when within that animal discreetWhich Phryxus bore, the sun illumed the sphere,And Zephyrus returning glad and sweet,Brought back with him again the blooming year,The wondrous deeds Orlando did in stower,Appeared with the new grass and dainty flower.
LXXXIIIFrom plain to hill, from champaign flat to shore,Oppressed with grief and pain the County fares,When a long cry, entering a forest hoar,—A load lamenting smites upon his ears.He grasps his brand and spurs his courser sore,And swiftly pricks toward the sound he hears.But I shall at another season sayWhat chanced, and may be heard in future lay.