Canto 19
ARGUMENTMedoro, by Angelica’s quaint hand,Is healed, and weds, and bears her to Catay.At length Marphisa, with the chosen band,After long suffering, makes Laiazzi’s bay.Guido the savage, bondsman in the land,Which impious women rule with civil sway,With Marphisa strives in single fight,And lodges her and hers at full of night.
IBy whom he is beloved can no one know,Who on the top of Fortune’s wheel is seated;Since he, by true and faithless friends, with showOf equal faith, in glad estate is greeted.But, should felicity be changed to woe,The flattering multitude is turned and fleeted!While he who loves his master from his heart,Even after death performs his faithful part.
IIWere the heart seen as is the outward cheer,He who at court is held in sovereign grace,And he that to his lord is little dear,With parts reversed, would fill each other’s place;The humble man the greater would appear,And he, now first, be hindmost in the race.But be Medoro’s faithful story said,The youth who loved his lord, alive or dead.
IIIThe closest path, amid the forest gray,To save himself, pursued the youth forlorn;But all his schemes were marred by the delayOf that sore weight upon his shoulders born.The place he knew not, and mistook the way,And hid himself again in sheltering thorn.Secure and distant was his mate, that throughThe greenwood shade with lighter shoulders flew.
IVSo far was Cloridan advanced before,He heard the boy no longer in the wind;But when he marked the absence of Medore,It seemed as if his heart was left behind.“Ah! how was I so negligent,” (the MoorExclaimed) “so far beside myself, and blind,That I, Medoro, should without thee fare,Nor know when I deserted thee or where?”
VSo saying, in the wood he disappears,Plunging into the maze with hurried pace;And thither, whence he lately issued, steers,And, desperate, of death returns in trace.Cries and the tread of steeds this while he hears,And word and the tread of foemen, as in chase:Lastly Medoro by his voice is known,Disarmed, on foot, ‘mid many horse, alone.
VIA hundred horsemen who the youth surround,Zerbino leads, and bids his followers seizeThe stripling: like a top, the boy turns roundAnd keeps him as he can: among the trees,Behind oak, elm, beech, ash, he takes his ground,Nor from the cherished load his shoulders frees.Wearied, at length, the burden he bestowedUpon the grass, and stalked about his load.
VIIAs in her rocky cavern the she-bear,With whom close warfare Alpine hunters wage,Uncertain hangs about her shaggy care,And growls in mingled sound of love and rage,To unsheath her claws, and blood her tushes bare,Would natural hate and wrath the beast engage;Love softens her, and bids from strife retire,And for her offspring watch, amid her ire.
VIIICloridan who to aid him knows not how,And with Medoro willingly would die,But who would not for death this being forego,Until more foes than one should lifeless lie,Ambushed, his sharpest arrow to his bowFits, and directs it with so true an eye,The feathered weapon bores a Scotchman’s brain,And lays the warrior dead upon the plain.
IXTogether, all the others of the bandTurned thither, whence was shot the murderous reed;Meanwhile he launched another from his stand,That a new foe might by the weapon bleed,Whom (while he made of this and that demand,And loudly questioned who had done the deed)The arrow reached—transfixed the wretch’s throat,And cut his question short in middle note.
XZerbino, captain of those horse, no moreCan at the piteous sight his wrath refrain;In furious heat, he springs upon Medore,Exclaiming, “Thou of this shalt bear the pain.”One hand he in his locks of golden oreEnwreaths, and drags him to himself amain;But, as his eyes that beauteous face survey,Takes pity on the boy, and does not slay.
XITo him the stripling turns, with suppliant cry,And, “By thy God, sir knight,” exclaims, “I pray,Be not so passing cruel, nor denyThat I in earth my honoured king may lay:No other grace I supplicate, nor IThis for the love of life, believe me, say.So much, no longer, space of life I crave.As may suffice to give my lord a grave.
XII“And if you needs must feed the beast and bird,Like Theban Creon, let their worst be doneUpon these limbs; so that by me interredIn earth be those of good Almontes’ son.”Medoro thus his suit, with grace, preferred,And words—to move a mountain, and so wonUpon Zerbino’s mood, to kindness turned,With love and pity he all over burned.
XIIIThis while, a churlish horseman of the band,Who little deference for his lord confest,His lance uplifting, wounded overhandThe unhappy suppliant in his dainty breast.Zerbino, who the cruel action scanned,Was deeply stirred, the rather that, opprestAnd livid with the blow the churl had sped,Medoro fell as he was wholly dead.
XIVSo grieved Zerbino, with such wrath was stung,“Not unavenged shalt thou remain,” he cries;Then full of evil will in fury sprungUpon the author of the foul emprize.But he his vantage marks, and, from amongThe warriors, in a moment slips and flies.Cloridan who beholds the deed, at sightOf young Medoro’s fall, springs forth to fight;
XVAnd casts away his bow, and, ‘mid the bandOf foemen, whirls his falchion, in desireRather of death, than hoping that his handMay snatch a vengeance equal to his ire.Amid so many blades, he views the sandTinged with his blood, and ready to expire,And feeling he the sword no more can guide,Lets himself drop by his Medoro’s side.
XVIThe Scots pursue their chief, who pricks before,Through the deep wood, inspired by high disdain,When he has left the one and the other Moor,This dead, that scarce alive, upon the plain.There for a mighty space lay young Medore,Spouting his life-blood from so large a vein,He would have perished, but that thither madeA stranger, as it chanced, who lent him aid.
XVIIBy chance arrived a damsel at the place,Who was (though mean and rustic was her wear)Of royal presence and of beauteous face,And lofty manners, sagely debonair:Her have I left unsung so long a space,That you will hardly recognise the fair.Angelica, in her (if known not) scan,The lofty daughter of Catay’s great khan.
XVIIIAngelica, when she had won againThe ring Brunello had from her conveyed,So waxed in stubborn pride and haught disdain,She seemed to scorn this ample world, and strayedAlone, and held as cheap each living swain,Although, amid the best, by Fame arrayed:Nor brooked she to remember a galantIn Count Orlando or king Sacripant;
XIXAnd above every other deed repented,That good Rinaldo she had loved of yore;And that to look so low she had consented,(As by such choice dishonoured) grieved her sore.Love, hearing this, such arrogance resented,And would the damsel’s pride endure no more.Where young Medoro lay he took his stand,And waited her, with bow and shaft in hand.
XXWhen fair Angelica the stripling spies,Nigh hurt to death in that disastrous fray,Who for his king, that there unsheltered lies,More sad than for his own misfortune lay,She feels new pity in her bosom rise,Which makes its entry in unwonted way.Touched was her haughty heart, once hard and curst,And more when he his piteous tale rehearsed.
XXIAnd calling back to memory her art,For she in Ind had learned chirurgery,(Since it appears such studies in that partWorthy of praise and fame are held to be,And, as an heir-loom, sires to sons impart,With little aid of books, the mystery)Disposed herself to work with simples’ juice,Till she in him should healthier life produce;
XXIIAnd recollects a herb had caught her sightIn passing hither, on a pleasant plain,What (whether dittany or pancy hight)I know not; fraught with virtue to restrainThe crimson blood forth-welling, and of mightTo sheathe each perilous and piercing pain,She found it near, and having pulled the weed,Returned to seek Medoro on the mead.
XXIIIReturning, she upon a swain did light,Who was on horseback passing through the wood.Strayed from the lowing herd, the rustic wightA heifer, missing for two days, pursued.Him she with her conducted, where the mightOf the faint youth was ebbing with his blood:Which had the ground about so deeply dyed,Life was nigh wasted with the gushing tide.
XXIVAngelica alights upon the ground,And he her rustic comrade, at her hest.She hastened ‘twixt two stones the herb to pound,Then took it, and the healing juice exprest:With this did she foment the stripling’s wound,And, even to the hips, his waist and breast;And (with such virtue was the salve endued)It stanched his life-blood, and his strength renewed;
XXVAnd into him infused such force again,That he could mount the horse the swain conveyed;But good Medoro would not leave the plainTill he in earth had seen his master laid.He, with the monarch, buried Cloridane,And after followed whither pleased the maid,Who was to stay with him, by pity led,Beneath the courteous shepherd’s humble shed.
XXVINor would the damsel quit the lowly pile(So she esteemed the youth) till he was sound;Such pity first she felt, when him erewhileShe saw outstretched and bleeding on the ground.Touched by his mien and manners next, a fileShe felt corrode her heart with secret wound;She felt corrode her heart, and with desire,By little and by little warmed, took fire.
XXVIIThe shepherd dwelt, between two mountains hoar,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 MoorWas briefly healed by the Catayan maid;But who in briefer space, a sorer smartThan young Medoro’s, suffered at her heart.
XXVIIIA 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 eyesHad the winged archer dealt: a sudden glowShe feels, and still the flames increasing rise;Yet less she heeds her own than other’s woe:—Heeds not herself, and only to contentThe author of her cruel ill is bent.
XXIXHer ill but festered and increased the moreThe stripling’s wounds were seen to heal and close:The youth grew lusty, 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’sUnseasonable flake, which melts awayExposed, in sunny place, to scorching ray.
XXXShe, 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, petition made,And begged him, haply an unwitting foe,To sheathe the suffering of that cruel blow.
XXXIO Count Orlando, O king of Circassy,Say what your valour has availed to you!Say what your honour boots, what goodly feeRemunerates 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!
XXXIIOh! 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 vainFor this ungrateful fair, what pain ‘twould beCould you within his arms the damsel see!
XXXIIITo pluck, as yet untouched, the virgin rose,Angelica permits the young Medore.Was none so blest as in that garden’s closeYet 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.
XXXIVIn 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.
XXXVThe 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 fledWith Dido, when the tempest raged above,The faithful witness to their secret love.
XXXVIAmid 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.
XXXVIIWhen she believed they had prolonged their stayMore than enow, the damsel made designIn India to revisit her Catay,And with its crown Medoro’s head entwine.She had upon her wrist an armlet, gayWith costly gems, in witness and in signOf love to her by Count Orlando borne,And which the damsel for long time had worn.
XXXVIIIOn Ziliantes, hid beneath the wave,This Morgue bestowed; and from captivityThe 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 feeTo wear, with the intention to conveyThe present to his queen, of whom I say.
XXXIXNo 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 foodBy that inhospitable race and rude.
XLShe, not possessing wherewithal to payThe kindly couple’s hospitality,Served by them in their cabin, from the dayShe 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 sideOf hills, which fertile France from Spain divide.
XLIWithin Valencia or Barcelona’s townThe couple thought a little to remain,Until some goodly ship should make her bounTo loose for the Levant: as so the twainJourney, beneath Gerona,—coming downThose mountains—they behold the subject main;And keeping on their left the beach below,By beaten track to Barcelona go.
XLIIBut, ere they there arrive, a crazed wightThey find, extended on the outer shore;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 spiteSwiftly assails the stranger at the door;And is about to do the lovers scorn,But to the bold Marphisa I return—
XLIIIMarphisa, Astolpho, Gryphon, Aquilant.Of these and of the others will I tell:Who, death before their eyes, the vext LevantTraverse, and ill resist the boisterous swell.While aye more passing 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.
XLIVWaves lifted by the waxing tempest startCastle and flooring, and, if yet there beAught standing left in any other part,’Tis cut away and cast into the sea.Here, pricking out their course upon the chart,One by a lantern does his ministry,Upon a sea-chest propt; another wightIs busied in the well by torch’s light.
XLVThis one beneath the poop, beneath the prowThat other, stands to watch the ebbing sand;And (each half-glass run out) returns to knowWhat way the ship has made, and towards what land.Thence all to speak their different thoughts, below,To midships make resort, with chart in hand;There where the mariners, assembled all,Are met in council, at the master’s call.
XLVIOne says: “Abreast of Limisso are weAmong the shoals”—and by his reckoning, nighThe rocks of Tripoli and bark must be,Where shipwrecked, 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 suggestTheir treasons, each with equal dread opprest.
XLVIIMore spitefully the wind on the third dayBlows, 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 assay,—Of marble breast—who has not now his fears.Marphisa, erst so confident ‘mid harms,Denied not but that day she felt alarms.
XLVIIIA pilgrimage is vowed to Sinai,To Cyprus and Gallicia, and to Rome,Ettino, and other place of sanctity,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.
XLIXThey bale and chest and all their heavy lumberCast overboard, from poop, and prow, and side;And every birth and cabin disencumberOf merchandize, to feed the greedy tide.Water to water others of the numberRendered, by whom the spouting pumps were plied.This in the hold bestirs himself, where’erPlanks opened by the beating sea appear.
LThey in this trouble, in this woe, remainedFor 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 sustainedThe wished appearance of St. Elmo’s light,Which (every spar was gone) descending glowedUpon a boat, which in the prow was stowed.
LIWhen, 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.
LIIThis on the sea remained so passing strong,And from its sable mouth so fiercely blew,And bore with it so swift a stream and strongOf the vext waters, that it hurried throughTheir tumbling waves the shattered bark along,Faster than gentle falcon ever flew;And sore the patron feared, to the world’s brinkIt would transport his bark, or wreck or sink.
LIIIFor this the master finds a remedy,Who bids them cast out spars, and veer awayA line which holds this float, and as they flee,So, by two-thirds, their furious course delay.This counsel boots, and more the auguryFrom him whose lights upon the gunwale play.This saves the vessel, haply else undone;And makes her through the sea securely run.
LIVThey, driven on Syria, in Laiazzo’s bayA mighty city rise; so nigh at hand,That they can from the vessel’s deck surveyTwo 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.
LVThey cannot fly, nor yet can keep the sea;For mast and yards are gone, and by the strokeOf 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.
LVISore dangerous ’twas to doubt; lest hostile bandShould 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 commandTo give, of him inquires the English knightWhat kept his mind suspended in that sort,And why at first he had not made the port.
LVIITo him relates the patron how a crewOf murderous women tenanted that shore,Which, by their ancient law, enslave or slewAll those whom Fortune to this kingdom bore;And that he only could such for eschewThat in the lists ten champions overbore,And having this achieved, the following nightIn bed should with ten damsels take delight.
LVIIIAnd if he brings to end the former feat,But afterwards the next unfinished leaves,They kill him, and as slaves his following treat,Condemned to delve their land or keep their beeves.—If for the first and second labour meet—He liberty for all his band achieves,Not for himself; who there must stay and wedTen wives by him selected for his bed.
LIXSo strange a custom of the neighbouring strandWithout a laugh Astolpho cannot hear;Sansonet and Marphisa, near at hand,Next Aquilant, and he, his brother dear,Arrive: to them the patron who from landAye keeps aloof, explains the cause of fear,And cries: “I liefer in the sea would choke,Than here of servitude endure the yoke.”
LXThe sailors by the patron’s rede abide,And all the passengers affrighted sore;Save that Marphisa took the other sideWith hers, who deemed that safer was the shoreThan sea, which raging round them, far and wide,Than a hundred thousand swords dismayed them more.Them little this, or other place alarms,So that they have but power to wield their arms.
LXIThe warriors are impatient all to land:But boldest is of these the English peer;Knowing how soon his horn will clear the strand,When the scared foe its pealing sound shall hear.To put into the neighbouring port this bandDesires, and are at strife with those who fear.And they who are the strongest, in such sortCompel the patron, that he makes the port.
LXIIAlready when their bark was first espiedAt sea, within the cruel city’s view,They had observed a galley, well suppliedWith practised mariners and numerous crew(While them uncertain counsels did divide)Make for their wretched ship, the billows through:Her lofty prow to their short stern and lowThese lash, and into port the vessel tow.
LXIIIThey thitherward were worked with warp and oar,Rather than with assistance of the sail;Since to lay starboard course or larboard more,No means were left them by the cruel gale.Again their rugged rhind the champions wore,Girding the faithful falchion with the mail,And with unceasing hope of comfort fedMaster and mariners opprest with dread.
LXIVLike a half-moon, projected from the beach,More than four miles about, the city’s port;Six hundred paces deep; and crowning eachHorn of the circling haven, was a fort;On every side, secure from storm or breach,(Save only from the south, a safe resort)In guise of theatre the town extendedAbout it, and a hill behind ascended.
LXVNo sooner there the harboured ship was seen(The news had spread already through the land)Than thitherward, with martial garb and mien,Six thousand women trooped, with bow in hand;And, to remove all hope of flight, betweenOne castle and the other, drew a band;And with strong chains and barks the port enclosed;Which ever, for that use, they kept disposed.
LXVIA dame, as the Cumean sybil gray,Or Hector’s ancient mother of renown,Made call the patron out, and bade him say,If they their lives were willing to lay down;Or were content beneath the yoke to stay,According to the custom of the town,—One of two evils they must choose,—be slain,Or captives, one and all, must there remain.
LXVII“ ’Tis true, if one so bold and of such mightBe found amid your crew,” (the matron said),“That he ten men of ours engage in fight,And can in cruel battle lay them dead,And, after, with ten women, in one night,Suffice to play the husband’s part in bed,He shall remain our sovereign, and shall swayThe land, and you may homeward wend your way.
LXVIII“And at your choice to stay shall also be,Whether a part or all, but with this pact,That he who here would stay and would be free,Can with ten dames the husband’s part enact.But if your chosen warrior fall or flee,By his ten enemies at once attacked,Or for the second function have not breath,To slavery you we doom, and him to death.”
LXIXAt what she deemed the cavaliers would start,The beldam found them bold; for to competeWith those they should engage, and play their partThe champions hoped alike in either feat.Nor failed renowned Marphisa’s valiant heart,Albeit for the second dance unmeet;Secure, where nature had her aid denied,The want should with the falchion be supplied.
LXXThe patron is commanded their replyResolved in common council to unfold;The dames at pleasure may their prowess try,And shall in lists and bed allow them bold.The lashings from the vessels they untie,The skipper heaves the warp, and bids lay hold,And lowers the bridge; o’er which, in warlike weed,The expectant cavaliers their coursers lead.
LXXIThese through the middle of the city go,And see the damsels, as they forward fare,Ride through the streets, succinct, in haughty show,And arm, in guise of warriors, in the square.Nor to gird sword, nor fasten spur below,Is man allowed, nor any arm to wear;Excepting, as I said, the ten; to followThe ancient usage which those women hallow.
LXXIIAll others of the manly sex they seat,To ply the distaff, broider, card and sow,In female gown descending to the feet,Which renders them effeminate and slow;Some chained, another labour to complete,Are tasked, to keep their cattle, or to plough.Few are the males; and scarce the warriors ken,Amid a thousand dames, a hundred men.
LXXIIIThe knights determining by lot to tryWho in their common cause on listed ground,Should slay the ten, with whom they were to vie,And in the other field ten others wound,Designed to pass the bold Marphisa by,Believing she unfitting would be found;And would be, in the second joust at eve,Ill-qualified the victory to achieve.
LXXIVBut with the others she, the martial maid,Will run her risque; and ’tis her destiny.“I will lay down this life,” the damsel said,“Rather than you lay down your liberty.But this”—with that she pointed to the bladeWhich she had girt—“is your security,I will all tangles in such manner loose,As Alexander did the Gordian noose.
LXXV“I will not henceforth stranger shall complain,So long as the world lasts, of this repair.”So said the maid, nor could the friendly trainTake from her what had fallen to her share.Then,—either every thing to lose, or gainTheir liberty,—to her they leave the care.With stubborn plate and mail all over steeled,Ready for cruel fight, she takes the field.
LXXVIHigh up the spacious city is place,With steps, which serve as seats in rising rows;Which for nought else is used, except the chase,Tourney, or wrestling match, or such-like shows.Four gates of solid bronze the rabble flowsIn troubled tide; and to Marphisa bold,That she may enter, afterwards is told.
LXXVIIOn pieballed horse Marphisa entered,—spreadWere circles dappling all about his hair,—Of a bold countenance and little head,And beauteous points, and haughty gait and air.Out of a thousand coursers which he fed,Him, as the best, and biggest, and most rare,King Norandino chose, and, decked with braveAnd costly trappings, to Marphisa gave.
LXXVIIIThrough the south gate, from the mid-day, the plainMarphisa entered, nor expected long,Before she heard approaching trumpet-strainPeal through the lists in shrilling notes and strong;And, looking next towards the northern wain,Saw her ten opposites appear: amongThese, as their leader, pricked a cavalier,Excelling all the rest in goodly cheer.
LXXIXOn a large courser came the leading foe,Which was, excepting the near foot behindAnd forehead, darker than was ever crow:His foot and forehead with some white were signed.The horseman did his horse’s colours showIn his own dress; and hence might be divined,He, as the mournful hue o’erpowered the clear,Was less inclined to smile, than mournful tear.
LXXXAt once their spears in rest nine warriors laid,When the trump sounded, in the hostile train,But he in black no sign of jousting made,As if he held such vantage in disdain:Better he deemed the law were disobeyed,Than that his courtesy should suffer stain.The knight retires apart, and sits to viewWhat against nine one single lance can do.
LXXXIOf smooth and balanced pace, the damsel’s horseTo the encounter her with swiftness bore;Who poised a lance so massive in the course,It would have been an overweight for four.She, disembarking, as of greatest force,The boom had chosen out of many more.At her fierce semblance when in motion, quailA thousand hearts, a thousand looks grow pale.
LXXXIIThe bosom of the first she opens so,As might surprise, if naked were the breast:She pierced the cuirass and the mail below;But first a buckler, solid and well prest,A yard behind the shoulders of the foeWas seen the steel, so well was it addrest.Speared on her lance she left him on the plain,And at the others drove with flowing rein;
LXXXIIIAnd so she shocked the second of the crew,And dealt the third so terrible a blow,From sell and life, with broken spine, the twoShe drove at once. So fell the overthrow,And with such weight she charged the warriors through!So serried was the battle of the foe!—I have seen bombard open in such modeThe squadrons, as that band Marphisa strowed.
LXXXIVMany good spears were broken on the dame,Who was as little moved as solid wall,When revellers play the chace’s merry game,Is ever moved by stroke of heavy ball.So hard the temper of her corslet’s mail,The strokes aye harmless on the breast-plate fall,Whose steel was heated in the fires of hell,And in Avernus’ water slaked by spell.
LXXXVAt the end of the career, she checked her steed,Wheeled him about, and for a little stayed;And then against the others drove at speed,Broke them, and to the handle dyed her blade.Here shorn of arms, and there of head, they bleed;And other in such manner cleft the maid,That breast, and head, and arms together fell,Belly and legs remaining in the sell.
LXXXVIWith such just measure him she cleaves, I say,Where the two haunches and the ribs confine:And leaves him a half figure, in such wayAs what we before images divine,Of silver, oftener made of wax, survey;Which supplicants from far and near enshrine,In thanks for mercy shown, and to bestowA pious quittance for accepted vow.
LXXXVIIMarphisa next made after one that flew,And overtook the wretch, and cleft (beforeHe the mid square had won) his collar through,So clean, no surgeon ever pieced it more.One after other, all in fine she slew,Or wounded every one she smote so sore,She was secure, that never more would foeArise anew from earth, to work her woe.
LXXXVIIIThe cavalier this while had stood aside,Who had the ten conducted to the place,Since, with so many against one to ride,Had seemed to him advantage four and base;Who, now he by a single hand espiedSo speedily his whole array displaced,Pricked forth against the martial maid, to show’Twas courtesy, not fear, had made him slow.
LXXXIXHe, signing with his right hand, made appearThat he would speak ere their career was run,Nor thinking that beneath such manly cheerA gentle virgin was concealed, begun:“I wot thou needs must be, sir cavalier,Sore wearied with such mighty slaughter done;And if I were disposed to weary theeMore than thou art, it were discourtesy.
XC“To thee, to rest until to-morrow’s light,Then to renew the battle, I concede.No honour ‘twere to-day to prove my mightOn thee, whom weak and overwrought I read.”—“Arms are not new to me, nor listed fight;Nor does fatigue so short a toil succeed,”Answered Marphisa, “and I, at my post,Hope to prove this upon thee, to thy cost.
XCI“I thank thee for thy offer of delay,But need not what thy courtesy agrees;And yet remains so large a space of day‘Twere very shame to spend it all in ease.”—“Oh! were I (he replied) so sure to appayMy heart with everything which best would please,As thine I shall appay in this!—but see,That ere thou thinkest, daylight fail not thee.”
XCIISo said he, and obedient to his hestTwo spears, say rather heavy booms, they bear.He to Marphisa bids consigns the best,And the other takes himself: the martial pairAlready, with their lances in the rest,Wait but till other blast the joust declare.Lo! earth and air and sea the noise rebound,As they prick forth, at the first trumpet’s sound!
XCIIINo mouth was opened and no eyelid fell,Nor breath was drawn, amid the observant crew:So sore intent was every one to spellWhich should be conqueror of the warlike two.Marphisa the black champion from his sell,So to o’erthrow he shall not rise anew,Levels her lance; and the black champion, bentTo slay Marphisa, spurs with like intent.
XCIVBoth lances, made of willow thin and dry,Rather than stout and stubborn oak, appeared;So splintered even to the rest, they fly:While with such force the encountering steeds careered,It seemed, as with a scythe-blade equallyThe hams of either courser had been sheared.Alike both fall; but voiding quick the seat,The nimble riders start upon their feet.
XCVMarphisa in her life, with certain wound,A thousand cavaliers on earth had laid;And never had herself been borne to ground;Yet quitted now the saddle, as was said.Not only at the accident astound,But nigh beside herself, remained the maid.Strange to the sable cavalier withal,Unwont to be unhorsed, appeared his fall.
XCVIThey scarcely touch the ground before they gainTheir feet, and now the fierce assault renew,With cut and thrust; which now with shield the twainOr blade ward off, and now by leaps eschew.Whether the foes strike home, or smite in vain,Blows ring, and echo parted aether through.More force those shields, those helms, those breast-plates showThan anvils underneath the sounding blow.
XCVIIIf heavy falls the savage damsel’s blade,That falls not lightly of her warlike foe.Equal the measure one the other paid;And both receive as much as they bestow.He who would see two daring spirits weighed,To seek two fiercer need no further go.Nor to seek more dexterity or might;For greater could not be in mortal wight.
XCVIIIThe women who have sate long time, to viewThe champions with such horrid strokes offend,Nor sign of trouble in the warriors trueBehold, nor yet of weariness, commendThem with just praises, as the worthiest twoThat are, where’er the sea’s wide arms extend.They deem these of mere toil and labour longMust die, save they be strongest of the strong.
XCIXCommuning with herself, Marphisa said,“That he moved not before was well for me!Who risqued to have been numbered with the dead,If he at first had joined his company.Since, as it is, I hardly can make headAgainst his deadly blows.” This colloquyShe with herself maintained, and while she spoke,Ceased not to ply her sword with circling stroke.
C“ ’Twas well for me,” the other cried again,“That to repose I did not leave the knight.I now from him defend myself with pain,Who is o’erwearied with the former fight:What had he been, renewed in might and main,If he had rested till to-morrow’s light?Right fortunate was I, as man could be,That he refused my proffered courtesy!”
CITill eve they strove, nor did it yet appearWhich had the vantage of the doubtful fray:Nor, without light, could either foe see clearNow to avoid the furious blows; when dayWas done, again the courteous cavalierTo his illustrious opposite ‘gan say;“What shall we do, since ill-timed shades descend,While we with equal fortune thus contend?”
CII“Meseems, at least, that till to-morrow’s morn‘Twere better thou prolonged thy life: no rightHave I thy doom, sir warrior, to adjournBeyond the limits of one little night.Nor will I that by me the blame be bornThat thou no longer shalt enjoy the light.With reason to the sex’s charge, by whomThis place is governed, lay thy cruel doom.”
CIII“If I lament thee and thy company,HE knows, by whom all hidden things are spied.Thou and thy comrades may repose with me,For whom there is no safe abode beside:Since leagued against you in conspiracyAre all those husbands by thy hand have died.For every valiant warrior of the menSlain in the tourney, consort was of ten.
CIV“The scathe they have to-day received from thee,Would ninety women wreak with vengeful spite;And, save thou take my hospitality,Except by them to be assailed this night.”—“I take thy proffer in security,”(Replied Marphisa), “that the faith so plight,And goodness of thy heart, will prove no less,Than are thy corporal strength and hardiness.
CV“But if, as having to kill me, thou grieve,Thou well mayst grieve, for reasons opposite;Nor hast thou cause to laugh, as I conceive,Nor hitherto has found me worst in fight.Whether thou wouldst defer the fray, or leave,Or prosecute by this or other light,Behold me prompt thy wishes to fulfil;Where and whenever it shall be thy will!”
CVISo by consent the combatants divided,Till the dawn broke from Ganges’ stream anew;And so remained the question undecided,Which was the better champion of the two,To both the brothers and the rest who sidedUpon that part, the liberal lord did sueWith courteous prayer, that till the coming dayThey would be pleased beneath his roof to stay.
CVIIThey unsuspecting with the prayer complied,And by the cheerful blaze of torches whiteA royal dome ascended, with their guide,Divided into many bowers and bright.The combatants remain as stupified,On lifting up their vizors, at the sightOne of the other; for (by what appears)The warrior hardly numbers eighteen years.
CVIIIMuch marvels with herself the gentle dame,That one so young so well should do and dare.Much marvels he (his wonderment the same)When he her sex agnizes by her hair.Questioning one another of their name,As speedily reply the youthful pair.But how was hight the youthful cavalier,Await till the ensuing strain to hear.