LXXI The vessels of the Moor that were not made The food of fire and water on that night (Saving some few that fled) were all conveyed Safe to Ma.r.s.eilles by the victorious knight Seven of those kings, that Moorish sceptres swayed, Who, having seen their squadron put to flight, With their seven ships had yielded to the foe, Stood mute and weeping, overwhelmed with woe.

LXXII Dudon had issued forth upon dry land, Bent to find Charlemagne that very day; And of the Moorish spoil and captive band Made in triumphal pomp a long display.

The prisoners all were ranged upon the strand, And round them stood their Nubian victors gay; Who, shouting in his praise, with loud acclaim, Made all that region ring with Dudon's name.

LXXIII Rogero, when from far the ships he spied, Believed they were the fleet of Agramant, And, to know further, p.r.i.c.ked his courser's side; Then, nearer, mid those knights of mickle vaunt, Nasamon's king a prisoner he desired, Agricalt, Bambirago, Farurant, Balastro, Manilardo, and Rimedont; Who stood with weeping eyes and drooping front.

LXXIV In their unhappy state to leave that crew The Child, who loved those monarchs, cannot bear; That useless is the empty hand he knew; That where force is not, little profits prayer.

He couched his lance, their keeper overthrew, Then proved his wonted might with faulchion bare; And in a moment stretched upon the strand Above a hundred of the Nubian band.

LXXV The noise Sir Dudon hears, the slaughter spies, But knows not who the stranger cavalier: He marks how, put to rout, his people flies; With anguish, with lament and mighty fear; Quickly for courser, shield, and helmet cries, (Bosom, and arms, and thighs, were mailed whilere) Leaps on his horse, nor -- having seized his lance -- Forgets he is a paladin of France.

LXXVI He called on every one to stand aside, And with the galling spur his courser prest; Meanwhile a hundred other foes have died, And filled with hope was every prisoner's breast; And as Rogero holy Dudon spied Approach on horseback, (footmen were the rest,) Esteeming him their head, he charged the knight, Impelled by huge desire to prove his might.

LXXVII Already, on his part, had moved the Dane; But when he saw the Child without a spear, He flang is own far from him, in disdain To take such vantage of the cavalier.

Admiring at Sir Dudon's courteous vein, "Belie himself he cannot," said the peer, "And of those perfect warriors must be one That as the paladins of France are known.

LXXVIII "If I my will can compa.s.s, he shall shew His name, to me, ere further deed be done."

He made demand; and in the stranger knew Dudon, the Danish Ogier's valiant son: He from Rogero claimed an equal due, And from the Child as courteous answer won.

-- Their names on either side announced -- the foes A bold defiance speak, and come to blows.

LXXIX Bold Dudon had with him that iron mace, Which won him deathless fame in many a fight: Wherewith he proved him fully of the race Of that good Danish warrior, famed for might.

That best of faulchions, which through iron case Of cuira.s.s or of casque was wont to bite, Youthful Rogero from the scabbard s.n.a.t.c.hed, And with the martial Dane his valour matched.

Lx.x.x But for the gentle youth was ever willed To offend his lady-love the least he could, And knew he should offend her, if he spilled, In that disastrous battle, Dudon's blood (Well in the lineage of French houses skilled He wist of Beatrice's sisterhood, -- Bradamant's mother she -- with Armelline, The mother of the Danish paladine).

Lx.x.xI He therefore never thrust in that affray, And rarely smote an edge on plate and chain.

Now warding off the mace, now giving way, Before the fall of that descending bane.

Turpin believes it in Rogero lay Sir Dudon in few sword-strokes to have slain.

Yet never when the Dane his guard foregoes, Save on the faulchion's flat descend the blows.

Lx.x.xII The flat as featly as the edge he plies, Of that good faulchion forged of stubborn grain; And, at strange blindman's bluff, in weary wise, Hammers on Dudon with such might and main, He often dazzles so the warrior's eyes, That hardly he his saddle can maintain.

But to win better audience for my rhyme, My canto I defer to other time.

CANTO 41

ARGUMENT His prisoners to the Child the Danish peer Consigns, who, homeward bound, are wrecked at sea; By swimming he escapes, and a sincere And faithful servant now of Christ is he.

Meanwhile bold Brandimart, and Olivier, And Roland fiercely charge the hostile three.

Sobrino is left wounded in the strife; Grada.s.so and Agramant deprived of life.

I The odour which well-fashioned bear or hair, Of that which find and dainty raiment steeps Of gentle stripling, or of damsel fair, -- Who often love awakens, as she weeps -- If it ooze forth and scent the ambient air, And which for many a day its virtue keeps, Well shows, by manifest effects and sure, How perfect was its first perfume and pure.

II The drink that to his cost good Icarus drew Of yore his sun-burned sicklemen to cheer, And which ('tis said) lured Celts and Boi through Our Alpine hills, untouched by toil whilere, Well shows that cordial was the draught, when new; Since it preserves its virtue through the year.

The tree to which its wintry foliage cleaves, Well shows that verdant were its spring tide leaves.

III The famous lineage, for so many years Of courtesy the great and lasting light, Which ever, brightening as it burns, appears To shine and flame more clearly to the sight, Well proves the sire of Este's n.o.ble peers Must, amid mortals, have shone forth as bright In all fair gifts which raise men to the sky, As the glad sun mid glittering orbs on high.

IV As in his every other feat exprest, Rogero's valiant mind and courteous lore Were showed by tokens clear and manifest, And his high mindedness shone more and more; -- So toward the Dane those virtues stood confest, With whom (as I rehea.r.s.ed to you before) He had belied his mighty strength and breath; For pity loth to put that lord to death.

V The Danish warrior was well certified, No wish to slay him had the youthful knight, Who spared him now, when open was his side; Now, when so wearied he no more could smite.

When finally he knew, and plain descried Rogero scrupled to put forth his might, If with less vigour and less prowess steeled, At least in courtesy he would not yield.

VI "Pardi, sir, make we peace;" (he said) "success In this contention cannot fall to me -- Cannot be mine; for I myself confess Conquered and captive to thy courtesy."

To him Rogero answered, "And no less I covet peace, than 'tis desired by thee.

But this upon condition, that those seven Are freed from bondage, and to me are given."

VII With that he showed those seven whereof I spake, Bound and with drooping heads, a sad array; Adding, he must to him no hindrance make, Who would those kings to Africa convey.

And Dudon thus allowed the Child to take Those seven, and him allowed to bear away A bark as well; what likes him best he chooses, Amid those vessels, and for Africk looses.

VIII He looses bark and sail; and in bold wise Trusting the fickle wind, to seaward stood.

At first on her due course the vessel flies, And fills the pilot full of hardihood.

The beach retreats, and from the sailors' eyes So fades, the sea appears a sh.o.r.eless flood.

Upon the darkening of the day, the wind Displays its fickle and perfidious kind.

IX It shifts from p.o.o.p to beam, from beam to prow, And even there short season doth remain: The reeling ship confounds the pilot; now Struck fore, now aft, now on her beam again.

Threatening the billows rise, with haughty brow, And Neptune's white herd lows above the main.

As many deaths appear to daunt that rout, As waves which beat their troubled bark about.

X Now blows the wind in front, and now in rear, And drives this wave an-end, that other back; Others the reeling vessel's side o'erpeer; And every billow threatens equal wrack.

The pilot sighs, confused and pale with fear; Vainly he calls aloud to shift the tack, To strike or jibe the yard; and with his hand, Signs to the crew the thing he would command.

XI But sound or signal little boots; the eye Sees not amid the dim and rainy night; The voice unheard ascends into the sky, -- The sky, which with a louder larum smite The troubled sailors' universal cry, And roar of waters, which together fight.

Unheard is every hest, above, below, Starboard or larboard, upon p.o.o.p or prow.

XII In the strained tackle sounds a hollow roar, Wherein the struggling wind its fury breaks; The forked lightning flashes evermore, With fearful thunder heaven's wide concave shakes.

One to the rudder runs, one grasps an oar; Each to his several office him betakes.

One will make fast, another will let go; Water into the water others throw.

XIII Lo! howling horribly, the sounding blast, Which Boreas in his sudden fury blows, Scourges with tattered sail the reeling mast: Almost as high as heaven the water flows: The oars are broken; and so fell and fast That tempest pelts, the prow to leeward goes; And the ungoverned vessel's battered side Is undefended from the foaming tide.

XIV Fallen on her starboard side, on her beam ends, About to turn keel uppermost, she lies.

Meanwhile, his soul to Heaven each recommends, Surer than sure to sink, with piteous cries.

Scathe upon scathe malicious Fortune sends, And when one woe is weathered, others rise.

O'erstrained, the vessel splits; and through her seams In many a part the hostile water streams.

XV A fierce a.s.sault and cruel coil doth keep Upon all sides that wintry tempest fell.

Now to their sight so high the billows leap, It seems that these to heaven above would swell; Now, plunging with the wave, they sink so deep, That they appear to spy the gulfs of h.e.l.l.

Small hope there is or none: with faultering breath They gaze upon inevitable death.

XVI On a despiteous sea, that livelong night, They drifted, as the wind in fury blew.

The furious wind that with the dawning light Should have abated, gathered force anew.

Lo! a bare rock, ahead, appears in sight, Which vainly would the wretched band eschew; Whom towards that cliff, in their despite, impel The raging tempest and the roaring swell.

XVII Three times and four the pale-faced pilot wrought The tiller with a vigorous push to sway; And for the bark a surer pa.s.sage sought: But the waves snapt and bore the helm away.

To lower, or ease the bellying canvas aught The sailors had no power; nor time had they To mend that ill, or counsel what was best; For them too hard the mortal peril prest.

XVIII Perceiving now that nothing can defend Their bark from wreck on that rude rock and bare, All to their private aims alone attend, And only to preserve their life have care.

Who quickest can, into the skiff descend; But in a thought so overcrowded are, Through those so many who invade the boat, That, gunwale-deep, she scarce remains afloat.