XXVIII Oh! how she sighs! how fears the gentle maid, Hearing Rogero, as it were, was flown!

Oh! how above all other terrors, weighed The 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 loosed From toils wherein he by her love was noosed;

XXIX And that with further end the youthful lord Her from his heart more speedily to chase, Will rove from realm to realm, till one afford Some dame, that may his former love efface; Even, as the proverb says, that in a board One nail drives out another from its place.

A second thought succeeds, and paints the youth Arraigned of fickleness, as full of truth;

x.x.x And her reproves for having lent an ear To 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 delight Most promptly leaned, and loathed its opposite;

x.x.xI And thinking, ever and anon, anew On that so oft repeated by the knight, As for grave sin, remorse and sorrow grew That 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.

x.x.xII "Love is the cause; that in my heart inlaid Thy form, so graceful and so fair to see; And so thy darling and thy wit pourtrayed, And worth, of all so bruited, that to me It seems impossible that wife or maid, Blest with thy sight, should not be fired by thee; And that she should not all her art apply To unbind, and fasten thee with other tie.

x.x.xIII "Ah! wellaway! if in my thought Love so Thy thought, as thy fair visage, had designed, This -- am I well a.s.sured -- in open show, As I unseen believe it, should I find; And be so quit of Jealousy, that foe Would not still hara.s.s my suspicious mind; And, where she is by me repulsed with pain, Not quelled and routed would she be, but slain.

x.x.xIV "I am like miser, so intent on gear, And who hath this so buried in his heart, That he, for h.o.a.rded 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.

x.x.xV "But I, Rogero, shall no sooner spy The light of thy glad countenance appear, Against mine every credence, from mine eye Concealed (and woe is me), I know not where, -- Oh! how true Hope false Fear shall from on high Depose withal, and to the bottom bear!

Ah! turn to me, Rogero! turn again, And comfort Hope, whom Fear hath almost slain.

x.x.xVI "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 rea.s.sure the timid wight: Without Rogero so I suffer dread; Dread lasts not, if Rogero is in sight.

Return to me, return, Rogero, lest My hope by fear should wholly be opprest.

x.x.xVII "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.

x.x.xVIII "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 drear Winter within me many times a year.

x.x.xIX "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 meat Returning, which her famished younglings lack, Mourns o'er an empty nest, or as the dove Laments himself at having lost is love;

XL The 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.

XLI The cruelty which by that beldam ill Was 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 will Of Heaven conveyed to gentle Leo's ear; And put into his heart the means to aid, And not to let such worth be overlaid.

XLII The courteous Leo that Rogero loved, Not that the Grecian knew howe'er that he Rogero was, but by that valour moved Which 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 right To grieve or say he did her a despite.

XLIII In secret, Leo with the man that bore The prison-keys a parley had, and said, He wished to see that cavalier, before Upon 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 none Must know 'twas Leo -- was the door undone.

XLIV Leo, escorted by none else beside, Was led by the compliant castellain, With his companion, to the tower, where stied Was 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 suspended For 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 s.p.a.ce, Nothing was needed but that deadly place.

XLVI Lovingly 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 all Whom 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, trow That I have aided thee, I danger run To be exiled, or aye with troubled brow Regarded for the deed that I have done; For thee he hates because of those thy blade Put to the rout and slaughtered near Belgrade."

XLVIII He 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 use Will 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."

XLIX Rogero is rescued; and the gaoler slain Is 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 remain Persuades, in secret, four or six days' s.p.a.ce: Meanwhile for him will he retrieve the gear And courser, by Ungiardo reft whilere.

L Open 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 wight Rather than Leo had the deed been done; For many deemed he had cause to have repaid The Child with scathe, and none to give him aid.

LI So wildered by such kindness, so immersed In wonder, is the rescued cavalier, So from those thoughts is he estranged, that erst So 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.

LII Much muses he by night and much by day; -- Nor cares for ought, nor ought desires beside -- By equal or more courtesy to pay The 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.

LIII Thither meanwhile had tidings been conveyed Of Charles' decree: that who in nuptial tye Would yoke with Bradamant, with trenchant blade Or 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.

LIV Communing 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.

LV But two things must he do; must, first, dispose That 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.

LVI Much weighs the Grecian's eloquence; but more Than eloquence with good Rogero weighed The mighty obligation which he bore; That debt which cannot ever be repaid.

So, albeit it appeared a hardship sore And thing well-nigh impossible, he said, With blither face than heart, that Leo's will In all that he commands he would fulfil.

LVII Albeit 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.

LVIII Right sure he is to die; if he forego The 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.

LIX To die is he disposed; but how to die Cannot 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 happily Than if her hand the fatal faulchion guide: Then sees, except he wins the martial maid For that Greek prince, the debt remains unpaid.

LX For 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 though His breast now these now other thoughts a.s.sail, All from his bosom chased the generous youth, Save that which moved him to maintain his truth.

LXI With the emperor's licence, armour to prepare, And steeds meanwhile had wrought his youthful son; Who with such goodly following as might square With 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 p.r.i.c.ks; nor tarries Until arrived in France; arrived at Paris.

LXII Leo will enter not the town; but nigh Pitches his broad pavilions on the plain; And his arrival by an emba.s.sy Makes known that day to royal Charlemagne.

Well pleased is he; and visits testify And many gifts the monarch's courteous vein.

His journey's cause the Grecian prince displayed, And to dispatch his suit the sovereign prayed:

LXIII To send afield the damsel, who denied Ever to take in wedlock any lord Weaker 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 sward Before the walls, in haste, enclosed that night, Appeared the martial maid, equipt for fight.