Canto 45
ARGUMENTYoung Leo doth from death Rogero free;For him Rogero Bradamant hath won,Making that maid appear less strong to be,Disguised in fight like Leo; and, that done,Straight in despite would slay himself; so heBy sorrow, so by anguish is foredone.To hinder Leo of his destined wifeMarphisa works, and kindles mighty strife.
IBy how much higher we see poor mortal goOn Fortune’s wheel, which runs a restless round,We so much sooner see his head belowHis heels; and he is prostrate on the ground.The Lydian, Syracusan, Samian showThis truth, and more whose names I shall not sound;All into deepest dolour in one dayHurled headlong from the height of sovereign sway.
IIBy how much more deprest on the other side,By how much more the wretch is downwards hurled,He so much sooner mounts, where he shall ride,If the revolving wheel again be twirled.Some on the murderous block have well-nigh died,That on the following day have ruled the world.Ventidius, Servius, Marius this have shownIn ancient days; King Lewis in our own;
IIIKing Lewis, stepfather of my duke’s son;Who, when his host at Santalbino fled,Left in his clutch by whom that field was won,Was nigh remaining shorter by the head.Nor long before the great Corvinus runA yet more fearful peril, worse bested:Both throned, when overblown was their mischance,One king of Hungary, one king of France.
IV’Tis plain to sight, through instances that fillThe page of ancient and of modern story,That ill succeeds to good, and good to ill;That glory ends in shame, and shame in glory;And that man should not trust, deluded still,In riches, realm, or field of battle, goryWith hostile blood, nor yet despair, for spurnsOf Fortune; since her wheel for ever turns.
VThrough that fair victory, when overthrownWere Leo and his royal sire, the knightWho won that battle to such trust is grown,In his good fortune and his peerless might,He, without following, without aid, alone(So is he prompted by his daring sprite)Thinks, mid a thousand squadrons in array,—Footmen and horsemen—sire and son to slay.
VIBut she, that wills no trust shall e’er be placedIn her by man, to him doth shortly show,How wight by her is raised, and how abased;How soon she is a friend, how soon a foe;She makes him know Rogero, that in hasteIs gone to work that warrior shame and woe;The cavalier, which in that battle dreadWith much ado had from his faulchion fled.
VIIHe to Ungiardo hastens to declareThe Child who put the imperial host to flight,Whose carnage many years will not repair,Here past the day and was to pass the night;And saith, that Fortune, taken by the hair,Without more trouble, and without more fight,Will, if he prisons him, the Bulgars bringBeneath the yoke and lordship of his king.
VIIIUngiardo from the crowd, which had pursuedThither their flight from the ensanguined plain,For, troop by troop, a countless multitude(Arrived, because not all the bridge could gain)Knew what a cruel slaughter had ensued:For there the moiety of the Greeks was slain;And knew that by a cavalier aloneOne host was saved, and one was overthrown;
IXAnd that undriven he should have made his wayInto the net, and of his own accord,Wondered, and showed his pleasure, at the sayIn visage, gesture, and in joyful word.He waited till Rogero sleeping lay;Then softly sent his guard to take that lord;And made the valiant Child, who had no dreadOf such a danger, prisoner in his bed.
XBy his own shield accused, that witness true,The Child is captive in Novogorood,To Ungiardo, worst among the cruel, whoMarvellous mirth to have that prisoner shewed.And what, since he was naked, could he do,Bound, while his eyes were yet by slumber glued?A courier, who the news should quickly bear,Ungiardo bids to Constantine repair.
XIConstantine on that night with all his host,Raising his camp, from Save’s green shore had gone:With this in Beleticche he takes post,Androphilus’, his sister’s husband’s town,Father of him, whose arms in their first joust(As if of wax had been his habergeon)Had pierced and carved the puissant cavalier,Now by Ungiardo pent in dungeon drear.
XIIHere from attack the emperor makes assureThe city walls and gates on every side;Lest, from the Bulgar squadrons ill secure,Having so good a warrior for their guide,His broken Grecians worse than fear endure;Deeming the rest would by his hand have died.Now he is taken, these breed no alarms;Nor would he fear the banded world in arms.
XIIIThe emperor, swimming in a summer sea,Knows not for very pleasure what to do:“Truly the Bulgars may be said to beVanquished,” he cries, with bold and cheerful brow.As he would feel assured of victory,That had of either arm deprived his foe;So the emperor was assured, and so rejoiced,When good Rogero’s fate the warrior voiced.
XIVNo less occasion has the emperor’s sonFor joying; for besides that he anewTrusts to acquire Belgrade, and tower and townThroughout the Bulgars’ country to subdue,He would by favours make the knight his own,And hopes to rank him in his warlike crew:Nor need he envy, guarded by his blade,King Charles’, Orlando’s, or Rinaldo’s aid.
XVTheodora was by other thoughts possest,Whose son was killed by young Rogero’s spear;Which through his shoulders, entering at his breast,Issued a palm’s breadth in the stripling’s rear;Constantine’s sister she, by grief opprest,Fell down before him; and with many a tearThat dropt into her bosom, while she sued,His heart with pity softened and subdued.
XVI“I still before these feet will bow my knee,Save on this felon, good my lord,” (she cried)“Who killed my son, to venge me thou agree,Now that we have him in our hold; besideThat he thy nephew was, thou seest how theeHe loved; thou seest what feats upon thy sideThat warrior wrought; thou seest if thou wilt blotThine own good name, if thou avenge him not.
XVII“Thou seest how righteous Heaven by pity stirredFrom the wide champaign, red with Grecian gore,Bears that fell man; and like a reckless birdInto the fowler’s net hath made him soar;That for short season, for revenge deferred,My son may mourn upon the Stygian shore.Give me, my lord, I pray, this cruel foe,That by his torment I may soothe my woe.”
XVIIISo well she mourns; and in such moving wiseAnd efficacious doth she make lament;(Nor from before the emperor will arise,Though he three times and four the dame has hent,And to uplift by word and action tries)That he is forced her wishes to content;And thus, according to her prayer, commandsThe Child to be delivered to her hands;
XIXAnd, not therein his orders to delay,They take the warrior of the unicornTo cruel Theodora; but one dayOf respite has the knight: to have him tornIn quarters, yet alive; to rend and slayHer prisoners publicly with shame and scorn,Seems a poor pain; and he must undergoOther unwonted and unmeasured woe.
XXAt the commandment of that woman dread,Chains on his neck and hands and feet they don;And put him in a dungeon-cell, where threadOf light was never by Apollo thrown:He has a scanty mess of mouldy bread;And sometimes is he left two days with none;And one that doth the place of jailer fillIs prompter than herself to work him ill.
XXIOh! if Duke Aymon’s daughter brave and fair,Of if Marphisa of exalted mindHad heard Rogero’s sad estate declare,And how he in this guise in prison pined,To his rescue either would have made repair,And would have flung the fear of death behind:Nor had bold Bradamant, intent to aid,Respect to Beatrice or Aymon paid.
XXIIMeanwhile King Charlemagne upon his side,Heeding his promise made in solemn sort,That none should have the damsel for his bride,That of her prowess in the field fell short;Not only had his sovereign pleasure criedWith sound of trumpet in his royal court,But in each city subject to his crown.Hence quickly through the world the bruit was blown.
XXIIISuch the condition which he bids proclaim:He that would with Duke Aymon’s daughter wedMust with the sword contend against that dameFrom the suns rise until he seeks his bed;And if he for that time maintains the game,And is not overcome, without more said,The lady is adjudged to have lost the stake;Nor him for husband can refuse to take.
XXIVThe choice of arms must be by her foregone,No matter who may claim it in the course:And by the damsel this may well be done,Good at all arms alike, on foot or horse.Aymon, who cannot strive against the crown,—Cannot and will not—yields at length parforce.He much the matter sifts, and in the endResolves to court with Bradamant to wend.
XXVThough for the daughter choler and disdainThe mother nursed, yet that she honour dueMight have, she garments, dyed in different grain,Had wrought for her, of various form and hue.Bradamant for the court of CharlemagneDeparts, and finding not her love, to her viewHis noble court appears like that no more,Which had appeared to her so fair before.
XXVIAs he that hath beheld a garden, brightWith flowers and leaves in April or in May,And next beholds it, when the sun his lightHath sloped toward the north, and shortened day,Finds it a desert horrid to the sight;So, now that her Rogero is away,To Bradamant, who thither made resort,No longer what it was appeared that court.
XXVIIWhat is become of him she doth not dareDemand, lest more suspicion thence be bred;But listens still, and searches here and there;That this by some, unquestioned, may be said;Knows he is gone, but has no notion whereThe warrior, when he went, his steps had sped;Because, departing thence, he spake no wordSave to the squire who journeyed with his lord.
XXVIIIOh! how she sighs! how fears the gentle maid,Hearing Rogero, as it were, was flown!Oh! how above all other terrors, weighedThe fear, that to forget her he was gone!That, seeing Aymon still his wish gainsayed,And that to wed the damsel hope was none,He fled, perchance, so hoping to be loosedFrom toils wherein he by her love was noosed;
XXIXAnd that with further end the youthful lordHer from his heart more speedily to chase,Will rove from realm to realm, till one affordSome dame, that may his former love efface;Even, as the proverb says, that in a boardOne nail drives out another from its place.A second thought succeeds, and paints the youthArraigned of fickleness, as full of truth;
XXXAnd her reproves for having lent an earTo a suspicion so unjust and blind;And so, this thought absolves the cavalier;And that accuses; and both audience find;And now this way, now that, she seemed to veer;Nor this, nor that—irresolute of mind—Preferred: yet still to what gave most delightMost promptly leaned, and loathed its opposite;
XXXIAnd thinking, ever and anon, anewOn that so oft repeated by the knight,As for grave sin, remorse and sorrow grewThat she had nursed suspicion and affright;And she, as her Rogero were in view,Would blame herself, and would her bosom smite;And say: “I see ’twas ill such thoughts to nurse,But he, the cause, is even cause of worse.
XXXII“Love is the cause; that in my heart inlaidThy form, so graceful and so fair to see;And so thy darling and thy wit pourtrayed,And worth, of all so bruited, that to meIt seems impossible that wife or maid,Blest with thy sight, should not be fired by thee;And that she should not all her art applyTo unbind, and fasten thee with other tie.
XXXIII“Ah! wellaway! if in my thought Love soThy thought, as thy fair visage, had designed,This—am I well assured—in open show,As I unseen believe it, should I find;And be so quit of Jealousy, that foeWould not still harass my suspicious mind;And, where she is by me repulsed with pain,Not quelled and routed would she be, but slain.
XXXIV“I am like miser, so intent on gear,And who hath this so buried in his heart,That he, for hoarded treasure still in fear,Cannot live gladly from his wealth apart.Since I Rogero neither see nor hear,More puissant far than Hope, O Fear! thou art;To thee, though false and idle I give way;And cannot choose but yield myself thy prey.
XXXV“But I, Rogero, shall no sooner spyThe light of thy glad countenance appear,Against mine every credence, from mine eyeConcealed (and woe is me), I know not where,—Oh! how true Hope false Fear shall from on highDepose withal, and to the bottom bear!Ah! turn to me, Rogero! turn again,And comfort Hope, whom Fear hath almost slain.
XXXVI“As when the sun withdraws his glittering head,The shadows lengthen, causing vain affright;And as the shadows, when he leaves his bed,Vanish, and reassure the timid wight:Without Rogero so I suffer dread;Dread lasts not, if Rogero is in sight.Return to me, return, Rogero, lestMy hope by fear should wholly be opprest.
XXXVII“As every spark is in the night alive,And suddenly extinguished when ’tis morn;When me my sun doth of his rays deprive,Against me felon Fear uplifts his horn:But they the shades of night no sooner drive,Than Fears are past and gone, and Hopes return.Return, alas! return, O radiance dear!And drive from me that foul, consuming Fear.
XXXVIII“If the sun turn from us and shorten day,Earth all its beauties from the sight doth hide;The wild winds howl, and snows and ice convey;Bird sings not; nor is leaf or flower espied.So, whensoever thou thy gladsome ray,O my fair sun, from me dost turn aside,A thousand, and all evil, dreads, make drearWinter within me many times a year.
XXXIX“Return, my sun, return! and springtide sweet,Which evermore I long to see, bring back;Dislodge the snows and ice with genial hear;And clear my mind, so clouded o’er and black.”As Philomel, or Progne, with the meatReturning, which her famished younglings lack,Mourns o’er an empty nest, or as the doveLaments himself at having lost is love;
XLThe unhappy Bradamant laments her so,Fearing the Child is reft from her and gone;While often tears her visage overflow:But she, as best she can, conceals her moan.Oh! how—oh! how much worse would be her woe,If what she knew not to the maid were known!That, prisoned and with pain and pine consumed,Her consort to a cruel death was doomed.
XLIThe cruelty which by that beldam illWas practised on the prisoned cavalier,And who prepared the wretched Child to kill,By torture new and pains unused whilere,While so Rogero pined, the gracious willOf Heaven conveyed to gentle Leo’s ear;And put into his heart the means to aid,And not to let such worth be overlaid.
XLIIThe courteous Leo that Rogero loved,Not that the Grecian knew howe’er that heRogero was, but by that valour movedWhich sole and superhuman seemed to be,Thought much, and mused, and planned, how it behoved—And found at last a way—to set him free;So that his cruel aunt should have no rightTo grieve or say he did her a despite.
XLIIIIn secret, Leo with the man that boreThe prison-keys a parley had, and said,He wished to see that cavalier, beforeUpon the wretch was done a doom so dread.When it was night, one, faithful found of yore,Bold, strong, and good in brawl, he thither led;And—by the silent warder taught that noneMust know ’twas Leo—was the door undone.
XLIVLeo, escorted by none else beside,Was led by the compliant castellain,With his companion, to the tower, where stiedWas he, reserved for nature’s latest pain.There round the neck of their unwary guide,Who turns his back the wicket to unchain,A slip-knot Leo and his follower cast;And, throttled by the noose, he breathes his last.
XLV—The trap upraised, by rope from thence suspendedFor such a need—the Grecian cavalier,With lighted flambeau in his hand, descended,Where, straitly bound, and without sun to cheer,Rogero lay, upon a grate extended,Less than a palm’s breadth of the water clear:To kill him in a month, or briefer space,Nothing was needed but that deadly place.
XLVILovingly Leo clipt the Child, and, “Me,O cavalier! thy matchless valour,” cried,“Hath in indissoluble bands to thee,In willing and eternal service, tried;And wills thy good to mine preferred should be,And I for thine my safety set aside,And weigh thy friendship more than sire, and allWhom I throughout the world my kindred call.
XLVII“I Leo am, that thou what fits mayst know,Come to thy succour, the Greek emperor’s son:If ever Constantine, my father, trowThat I have aided thee, I danger runTo be exiled, or aye with troubled browRegarded for the deed that I have done;For thee he hates because of those thy bladePut to the rout and slaughtered near Belgrade.”
XLVIIIHe his discourse with more beside pursues,That might from death to life the Child recall;And all this while Rogero’s hands doth loose.“Infinite thanks I owe you,” cries the thrall,“And I the life you gave me, for your useWill ever render back, upon your call;And still, at all your need, I for your sake,And at all times, that life will promptly stake.”
XLIXRogero is rescued; and the gaoler slainIs left in that dark dungeon in his place;Nor is Rogero known, nor are the twain:Leo the warrior, free from bondage base,Brings home, and there in safety to remainPersuades, in secret, four or six days’ space:Meanwhile for him will he retrieve the gearAnd courser, by Ungiardo reft whilere.
LOpen the gaol is found at dawn of light,The gaoler strangled, and Rogero gone.Some think that these or those had helped his flight:All talk; and yet the truth is guessed by none.Well may they think by any other wightRather than Leo had the deed been done;For many deemed he had cause to have repaidThe Child with scathe, and none to give him aid.
LISo wildered by such kindness, so immersedIn wonder, is the rescued cavalier,So from those thoughts is he estranged, that erstSo many weary miles had made him steer,His second thoughts confronting with his first,Nor these like those, nor those like these appear.He first with hatred, rage, and venom burned;With pity and with love then wholly yearned.
LIIMuch muses he by night and much by day;—Nor cares for ought, nor ought desires beside—By equal or more courtesy to payThe mighty debt that him to Leo tied.Be his life long or short, or what it may,Albeit to Leo’s service all applied,Dies he a thousand deaths, he can do nought,But more will be deserved, Rogero thought.
LIIIThither meanwhile had tidings been conveyedOf Charles’ decree: that who in nuptial tyeWould yoke with Bradamant, with trenchant bladeOr lance must with the maid his prowess try.These news the Grecian prince so ill appaid,His cheek was seen to blanch with sickly dye;Because, as one that measured well his might,He knew he was no match for her in fight.
LIVCommuning with himself, he can supply(He sees) the valour wanting with his wit;And the strange knight with his own ensignry,Whose name is yet unknown to him, will fit:Him he against Frank champion, far and nigh,Believes he may for force and daring pit;And if the knight to that emprize agree,Vanquished and taken Bradamant will be.
LVBut two things must he do; must, first, disposeThat cavalier to undertake the emprize;Then send afield the champion, whom he chose,In mode, that none suspect the youth’s disguise:To him the matter Leo doth disclose;And after prays in efficacious wise,That he the combat with the maid will claim,Under false colours and in other’s name.
LVIMuch weighs the Grecian’s eloquence; but moreThan eloquence with good Rogero weighedThe mighty obligation which he bore;That debt which cannot ever be repaid.So, albeit it appeared a hardship soreAnd thing well-nigh impossible, he said,With blither face than heart, that Leo’s willIn all that he commands he would fulfil.
LVIIAlbeit no sooner he the intent exprest,Than with sore grief Rogero’s heart was shent;Which, night and day, and ever, doth molest,Ever afflict him, evermore torment:And though he sees his death is manifest,Never will he confess he doth repent:Rather than not with Leo’s prayer comply,A thousand deaths, not one, the Child will die.
LVIIIRight sure he is to die; if he foregoThe lady, he foregoes his life no less.His heart will break through his distress and woe,Or, breaking not with woe and with distress,He will, himself, the bands of life undo,And of its clay the spirit dispossess.For all things can he better bear than one;Than see that gentle damsel not his own.
LIXTo die is he disposed; but how to dieCannot as yet the sorrowing lord decide:Sometimes he thinks his prowess to belie,And offer to her sword his naked side:For never death can come more happilyThan if her hand the fatal faulchion guide:Then sees, except he wins the martial maidFor that Greek prince, the debt remains unpaid.
LXFor he with Bradamant, as with a foe,Promised to do, not feign, a fight in mail,And not to make of arms a seeming show;So that his sword should Leo ill avail.Then by his word will he abide; and thoughHis breast now these now other thoughts assail,All from his bosom chased the generous youth,Save that which moved him to maintain his truth.
LXIWith the emperor’s licence, armour to prepare,And steeds meanwhile had wrought his youthful son;Who with such goodly following as might squareWith his degree, upon his way was gone:With him Rogero rides, through Leo’s care,Equipt with horse and arms, that were his own.Day after day the squadron pricks; nor tarriesUntil arrived in France; arrived at Paris.
LXIILeo will enter not the town; but nighPitches his broad pavilions on the plain;And his arrival by an embassyMakes known that day to royal Charlemagne.Well pleased is he; and visits testifyAnd many gifts the monarch’s courteous vein.His journey’s cause the Grecian prince displayed,And to dispatch his suit the sovereign prayed:
LXIIITo send afield the damsel, who deniedEver to take in wedlock any lordWeaker than her: for she should be his bride,Or he would perish by the lady’s sword.Charles undertook for this; and, on her side,The following day upon the listed swardBefore the walls, in haste, enclosed that night,Appeared the martial maid, equipt for fight.
LXIVRogero past the night before the dayWherein by him the battle should be done,Like that which felon spends, condemning to payLife’s forfeit with the next succeeding sun:He made his choice to combat in the frayAll armed; because he would discovery shun:Nor barded steed he backed, nor lance he shook;Nor other weapon than his faulchion took.
LXVNo lance he took: yet was it not through fearOf that which Argalia whilom swayed;Astolpho’s next; then hers, that in careerHer foemen ever upon earth had laid:Because none weened such force was in the spear,Nor that it was by necromancy made;Excepting royal Galaphron alone;Who had it forged, and gave it to his son.
LXVINay, bold Astolpho, and the lady whoAfterwards bore it, deemed that not to spell,But simply to their proper force, was dueThe praise that they in knightly joust excel;And with whatever spear they fought, those twoBelieved that they should have performed as well.What only makes that knight the joust foregoIs that he would not his Frontino show.
LXVIIFor easily that steed of generous kindShe might have known, if him she had espied;Whom in Montalban, long to her consigned,The gentle damsel had been wont to ride.Rogero, that but schemes, but hath in mindHow he from Brandamant himself shall hide,Neither Frontino nor yet other thing.Whereby he may be known, afield will bring.
LXVIIIWith a new sword will he the maid await;For well he knew against the enchanted bladeAs soft as paste would prove all mail and plate;For never any steel its fury stayed;And heavily with hammer, to rebateIts edge, as well he on this faulchion layed.So armed, Rogero in the lists appeared,When the first dawn of day the horizon cheered.
LXIXTo look like Leo, o’er his breast is spreadThe surcoat that the prince is wont to wear;And the gold eagle with its double headHe blazoned on the crimson shield doth bear;And (what the Child’s disguisement well may stead)Of equal size and stature are the pair.In the other’s form presents himself the one;That other lets himself be seen of none.
LXXDordona’s martial maid is of a veinRight different from the gentle youth’s, who soreHammers and blunts the faulchion’s tempered grain,Lest it his opposite should cleave or bore.She whets her steel, and into it would fainEnter, that stripling to the quick to gore:Yea, would such fury to her strokes impart,That each should go directly to his heart.
LXXIAs on the start the generous barb in spied,When he the signal full of fire attends;And paws now here now there; and opens wideHis nostrils, and his pointed ears extends;So the bold damsel, to the lists defied,Who knows not with Rogero she contends,Seemed to have fire within her veins, nor foundResting-place, waiting for the trumpet’s sound.
LXXIIAs sometimes after thunder sudden windTurns the sea upside down; and far and nighDim clouds of dust the cheerful daylight blind,Raised in a thought from earth, and whirled heaven-high;Scud beasts and herd together with the hind;And into hail and rain dissolves the sky;So she upon the signal bared her brand,And fell on her Rogero, sword in hand.
LXXIIIBut well-built wall, strong tower, or aged oak,No more are moved by blasts that round them rave,No more by furious sea is moved the rock,Smote day and night by the tempestuous wave,Than in those arms, secure from hostile stroke,Which erst to Trojan Hector Vulcan gave,Moved was he by that ire and hatred rankWhich stormed about his head, and breast, and flank.
LXXIVNow aims that martial maid a trenchant blow,And now gives point; and wholly is intent‘Twixt plate and plate to reach her hated foe;So that her stifled fury she may vent:Now on this side, now that, now high, now lowShe strikes, and circles him, on mischief bent;And evermore she rages and repines;As balked of every purpose she designs.
LXXVAs he that layeth siege to well-walled town,And flanked about with solid bulwarks, stillRenews the assault; now fain would batter downGateway or tower; now gaping fosse would fill;Yet vainly toils (for entrance is there none)And wastes his host, aye frustrate of his will;So sorely toils and strives without availThe damsel, nor can open plate or mail.
LXXVISparks now his shield, now helm, now cuirass scatter,While straight and back strokes, aimed now low, now high,Which good Rogero’s head and bosom batter,And arms, by thousands and by thousands flyFaster than on the sounding farm-roof patterHailstones descending from a troubled sky.Rogero, at his ward, with dexterous care,Defends himself, and ne’er offends the fair.
LXXVIINow stopt, now circled, now retired the knight,And oft his hand his foot accompanied;And lifted shield, and shifted sword in fight,Where shifting he the hostile hand espied.Either he smote her not, or—die he smite—Smote, where he deemed least evil would betide.The lady, ere the westering sun descend,Desires to bring that duel to an end.
LXXVIIIOf the edict she remembered her, and knewHer peril, save the foe was quickly sped:For if she took not in one day nor slewHer claimant, she was taken; and his headPhoebus was now about to hide from view,Nigh Hercules’ pillars, in his watery bed,When first she ‘gan misdoubt her power to copeWith the strong foe, and to abandon hope.
LXXIXBy how much more hope fails the damsel, soMuch more her anger waxes; she her blowsRedoubling, yet the harness of her foeWill break, which through that day unbroken shows;As he, that at his daily drudgery slow,Sees night on his unfinished labour close,Hurries and toils and moils without avail,Till wearied strength and light together fail.
LXXXDidst thou, O miserable damsel, trowWhom thou wouldst kill, if in that cavalierMatched against thee thou didst Rogero know,On whom depend thy very life-threads, ereThou killed him thou wouldst kill thyself; for thou,I know, dost hold him than thyself more dear;And when he for Rogero shall be known,I know these very strokes thou wilt bemoan.
LXXXIKing Charles and peers him sheathed in plate and shellDeem not Rogero, but the emperor’s son;And viewing in that combat fierce and fellSuch force and quickness by the stripling shown;And, without e’er offending her, how wellThat knight defends himself, now change their tone;Esteem both well assorted; and declareThe champions worthy of each other are.
LXXXIIWhen Phoebus wholly under water goes,Charlemagne bids the warring pair divide;And Bradamant (nor boots it to oppose)Allots to youthful Leo as a bride.Not there Rogero tarried to repose;Nor loosed his armour, nor his helm untied:On a small hackney, hurrying sore, he wentWhere Leo him awaited in his tent.
LXXXIIITwice in fraternal guise and oftener threwLeo his arms about the cavalier;And next his helmet from his head withdrew,And kiss’d him on both cheeks with loving cheer.“I would,” he cried, “that thou wouldst ever doBy me what pleaseth thee; for thou wilt ne’erWeary my love: at any call I lendTo thee myself and state; these friendly spend;
LXXXIV“Nor see I recompense, which can repayThe mighty obligation that I owe;Though of the garland I should disarrayMy brows, and upon thee that gift bestow.”Rogero, on whom his sorrows press and prey,Who loathes his life, immersed in that deep woe,Little replies; the ensigns he had wornReturns, and takes again his unicorn;
LXXXVAnd showing himself spiritless and spent,From thence as quickly as he could withdrew,And from young Leo’s to his lodgings went;When it was midnight, armed himself anew,Saddled his horse, and sallied from his tent;(He takes no leave, and none his going view;)And his Frontino to that road addrest,Which seemed to please the goodly courser best.
LXXXVINow by straight way and now by crooked woundFrontino, now by wood and wide champaign;And all night with his rider paced that round,Who never ceased a moment to complain:He called on Death, and therein comfort found;Since broke by him alone is stubborn pain;Nor saw, save Death, what other power could closeThe account of his insufferable woes.
LXXXVII“Whereof should I complain,” he said, “wo is me!So of my every good at once forlorn?Ah! if I will not bear this injuryWithout revenge, against whom shall I turn?For I, besides myself, none other seeThat hath inflicted on me scathe and scorn.Then I to take revenge for all the harmDone to myself, against myself must arm.
LXXXVIII“Yet was but to myself this injury done,Myself to spare (because this touched but me)I haply could, yet hardly could, be won;Nay, I will say outright, I could not be.Less can I be, since not to me alone,But Bradamant, is done this injury;Even if I could consent myself to spare,It fits me not unvenged to leave that fair.
LXXXIX“Then I the damsel will avenge, and die,(Nor this disturbs me) whatsoe’er betide;For, bating death, I know not aught, wherebyDefence against my grief can be supplied.But I lament myself alone, that IBefore offending her, should not have died.O happier Fortune! had I breathed my lastIn Theodora’s dungeon prisoned fast!
XC“Though she had slain, had tortured me beforeShe slew, as prompted by her cruelty,At least the hope would have remained in storeThat I by Bradamant should pitied be:But when she knows that I loved Leo moreThan her, that, of my own accord and free,Myself of her, I for his good, deprive,Dead will she rightly hate me or alive.”
XCIThese words he said and many more, with sighAnd heavy sob withal accompanied,And, when another sun illumed the sky,Mid strange and gloomy woods himself espied;And, for he desperate was and bent to die,And he, as best he could, his death would hide;This place to him seemed far removed from view,And fitted for the deed that he would do.
XCIIHe entered into that dark woodland, whereHe thickest trees and most entangled spied:But first Frontino was the warrior’s care,Whom he unharnessed wholly, and untied.“O my Frontino, if thy merits rareI could reward, thou little cause” (he cried)“Shouldst have to envy him, so highly graced,Who soared to heaven, and mid the stars was placed.
XCIII“Nor Cillarus, nor Arion, was whilereWorthier than thee, nor merited more praise;Nor any other steed, whose name we hearSounded in Grecian or in Latin lays.Was any such in other points thy peer,None of them, well I know, the vaunt can raise;That such high honour and such courtesyWere upon him bestowed, as were on thee.
XCIV“Since to the gentlest maid, of fairest dye,And boldest that hath been, or evermoreWill be, thou wast so dear, she used to tieThy trappings, and to thee thy forage bore:Dear wast thou to my lady-love: Ah! whyCall I her mine, since she is mine no more?If I have given her to another lord,Why turn I not upon myself this sword?”
XCVIf him these thoughts so harass and torment,That bird and beast are softened by his cries;(For, saving these, none hears the sad lament,Nor sees the flood that trickles form his eyes)You are not to believe that more contentThe Lady Bradamant in Paris lies;Who can no longer her delay excuse,Nor Leo for her wedded lord refuse.
XCVIEre she herself to any consort tie,Beside her own Rogero, she will fainDo what so can be done; her word belie;Anger friends, kindred, court, and Charlemagne;And if she nothing else can do, will die,By poison or her own good faulchion slain:For not to live appears far lesser woe,Than, living, her Rogero to forego.
XCVII“Rogero mine, ah! wonder gone” (she cried)“Art thou; and canst thou so far distant be,Thou heardest not this royal edict cried,A thing concealed from none, expecting thee?Faster than thee would none have hither hied,I wot, hadst thou known this; ah! wretched me!How can I e’er in future think of aught,Saving the worst that can by me be thought?
XCVIII“How can it be, Rogero, thou aloneHast read not what by all the world is read?If thou hast read it not, nor hither flown,How canst thou but a prisoner be, or dead?But well I wot, that if the truth were known,This Leo will for thee some snare have spread:The traitor will have barred thy way, intentThou shouldst not him by better speed prevent.
XCIX“From Charles I gained the promise, that to noneLess puissant than myself should I be given;In the reliance thou wouldst be that one,With whom I should in arms have vainly striven.None I esteemed, excepting thee alone:But well my rashness is rebuked by Heaven:Since I by one am taken in this wiseUnfamed through life for any fair emprize.
C“If I am held as taken, since the knightI had not force to take nor yet to slay;A thing that is not, in my judgment, right;Nor I to Charles’s sentence will give way,I know that I shall be esteemed as light,If what I lately said, I now unsay;But of those many ladies that have pastFor light, I am not, I, the first or last.
CI“Enough I to my lover faith maintain,And, firmer than a rock, am still found true!And far herein surpass the female train,That were in olden days, or are in new!Nor, if they me as fickle shall arraign,Care I, so good from fickleness ensue;Though I am lighter than a leaf be said,So I be forced not with that Greek no wed.”
CIIThese things and more beside the damsel bright(‘Twixt which oft sobs and tears were interposed),Ceased not to utter through the livelong nightWhich upon that unhappy day had closed.But, when within Cimmeria’s caverned heightNocturnus with his troops of shades reposed,Heaven, which eternally had willed the maidShould be Rogero’s consort, brought him aid:
CIIIThis moves the haught Marphisa, when ’tis morn,To appear before the king; to whom that maidSaith, to the Child, her brother, mighty scornWas done; nor should he be so ill appaid,That from him should his plighted wife be torn;And nought thereof unto the warrior said;And on whoever lists she will in strifeProve Bradamant to be Rogero’s wife;
CIVAnd this, before all others, will prove trueOn her, if to deny it she will dare;For she had to Rogero, in her view,Spoken those words, which they that marry swear;And with all ceremony wont and dueSo was the contract sealed between the pair,They were no longer free; nor could forsakeThe one the other, other spouse to take.
CVWhether Marphisa true or falsely spake,I well believe that, rather with intentYoung Leo’s purpose, right or wrong, to break,Than tell the truth, she speaks; and with consentOf Bradamant doth that avowal make:For to exclude the hated Leo bent,And of Rogero to be repossest,This she believes her shortest way and best.
CVISorely by this disturbed, King CharlemagneBade Bradamant be called, and to her toldThat which the proud Marphisa would maintain;And Aymon present in the press behold!—Bradamant drops her head, nor treats as vain,Nor vouches what avows that virgin bold,In such confusion, they may well believeThat fierce Marphisa speaks not to deceive.
CVIIJoy good Orlando and joy Rinaldo show,Who view in valorous Marphisa’s pleaA cause the alliance shall no further go,Which sealed already Leo deemed to be;And yet, in spite of stubborn Aymon’s no,Bradamant shall Rogero’s consort be;And they may, without strife, without despiteDone to Duke Aymon’s, give her to the knight.
CVIIIFor if such words have pass’d between the twain,Fast is the knot and cannot be untied;They what they vowed more fairly will obtain,And without further strife are these affied.“This is a plot, a plot devised in vain;And ye deceive yourselves (Duke Aymon cried)For, were the story true which ye have feigned,Believe not therefore that your cause is gained.
CIX“For granting what I will not yet allow,And what I to believe as yet demur;That weakly to Rogero so her vowWas plighted, as Rogero’s was to her;Where was the contract made, and when and how?More clearly this to me must ye aver.Either it was not so, I am advised;Or was before Rogero was baptized.
CX“But if it were before the youthful knightA Christian was, I will not heed it, I;For ‘twixt a faithful and a paynim wight,I deem that nought avails the marriage-tie.For this not vainly in the doubtful fightShould Constantine’s fair son have risked to die;Nor Charlemagne for this, our sovereign lordWill forfeit, I believe, his plighted word.
CXI“What now you say you should before have said,While yet the matter was unbroke, and ereCharles at my daughter’s prayer that edict madeWhich has drawn Leo to the combat here.”Orlando and Rinaldo were gainsayedSo before royal Charles by Clermont’s peer;And equal Charlemagne heard either side,But neither would for this nor that decide.
CXIIAs in the southern or the northern breezeThe greenwood murmurs; and as on the shore,When Aeolus with the god that rules the seasIs wroth, the hoarse and hollow breakers roar,So a loud rumour of this strife, that fleesThrough France, and spreads and circles evermore,Affords such matter to rehearse and hear,That nought beside is bruised far or near.
CXIIIThese with Rogero, those with Leo side;But the most numerous are Rogero’s friends,Who against Aymon, ten to one, divide.Good Charlemagne to neither party bends;But wills that cause shall be by justice tried,And to his parliament the matter sends.Marphisa, now the bridal was deferred,Appeared anew, and other question stirred;
CXIVAnd said, “In that anther cannot haveBradamant, while my brother is alive,Let Leo, if the gentle maid he crave,His foe in listed fight of life deprive;And he, that sends the other to his grave,Freed from his rival, with the lady wive.”Forthwith this challenge, as erewhile the rest,To Leo was declared at Charles’ behest.
CXVLeo who if he had the cavalierOf the unicorn, believed he from his foeWas safe; and thought no peril would appearToo hard a feat for him; and knew not howThence into solitary woods and drearThat warrior had been hurried by his woe;Him gone for little time and for disportBelieved, and took his line in evil sort.
CXVIThis shortly Leo was condemned to rue:For he, on whom too fondly he relied,Nor on that day nor on the following twoAppeared, nor news of him were signified;And combat with Rogero was, he knew,Unsafe, unless that knight was on his side:So sent, to eschew the threatened scathe and scorn,To seek the warrior of the unicorn.
CXVIIThrough city, and through hamlet, and through town,He sends to seek Rogero, far and near:And not content with this, himself is goneIn person, on his steed, to find the peer.But of the missing warrior tidings noneNor he nor any of the Court would hearBut for Melissa: I for other verseReserve myself, her doings to rehearse.