Lx.x.xII Meanwhile the unhappy lover lost the dame In that dim air, nor how he lost her, weets; And, roving far and near, her beauteous name Through every sounding wood and plain repeats.

And while, "Oh wretched me!" is his exclaim, "Who has to poison changed my promised sweets?"

He of his sovereign lady who with tears Demands his aid, the lamentation hears.

Lx.x.xIII Thither, whence comes the sound, he swiftly hies, And toils, now here, now there, with labour sore: Oh! what tormenting grief, to think his eyes Cannot again the lovely rays explore!

-- Lo! other voice from other quarter cries -- "Hope not on earth to enjoy the blessing more."

At that alarming cry he woke, and found Himself in tears of bitter sorrow drowned.

Lx.x.xIV Not thinking that like images are vain, When fear, or when desire disturbs our rest, The thought of her, exposed to shame and pain, In such a mode upon his fancy pressed, He, thundering, leaped from bed, and with what chain And plate behoved, his limbs all over dressed; Took Brigliadoro from the stall he filled, Nor any squire attendant's service willed.

Lx.x.xV And to pa.s.s every where, yet not expose By this his dignity to stain or slight, The old and honoured ensign he foregoes, His ancient bearing, quartered red and white.

And in its place a sable ensign shows, Perhaps as suited to his mournful plight, That erst he from an Amostantes bore, Whom he had slain in fight some time before.

Lx.x.xVI At midnight he departed silently, Not to his uncle spake, not to his true And faithful comrade Brandimart, whom he So dearly cherished, even bade adieu; But when, with golden tresses streaming-free, The sun from rich t.i.thonus' inn withdrew, And chased the shades, and cleared the humid air, The king perceived Orlando was not there.

Lx.x.xVII To Charles, to his displeasure, were conveyed News that his nephew had withdrawn at night, When most he lacked his presence and his aid; Nor could he curb his choler at the flight, But that with foul reproach he overlaid, And sorely threatened the departed knight, By him so foul a fault should be repented, Save he, returning home, his wrath prevented.

Lx.x.xVIII Nor would Orlando's faithful Brandimart, Who loved him as himself, behind him stay; Whether to bring him back he in his heart Hoped, or of him ill brooked injurious say: And scarce, in his impatience to depart, Till fall of eve his sally would delay.

Lest she should hinder his design, of this He nought imparted to his Flordelis:

Lx.x.xIX To him this was a lady pa.s.sing dear, And from whose side he unwont to stray; Endowed with manners, grace, and beauteous cheer, Wisdom and wit: if now he went away And took no leave, it was because the peer Hoped to revisit her that very day.

But that befel him after, as he strayed, Which him beyond his own intent delayed.

XC She when she has expected him in vain Well nigh a month, and nought of him discerns, Sallies without a guide or faithful train, So with desire of him her bosom yearns: And many a country seeks for him in vain; To whom the story in due place returns.

No more I now shall tell you of these two, More bent Anglantes' champion to pursue;

XCI Who having old Almontes' blazonry So changed, drew nigh the gate; and there the peer Approached a captain of the guard, when he; "I am the County," whispered in his ear, And (the bridge quickly lowered, and pa.s.sage free At his commandment) by the way most near Went straight towards the foe: but what befell Him next, the canto which ensues shall tell.

CANTO 9

ARGUMENT So far Orlando wends, he comes to where He of old Proteus' hears the cruel use But feels such pity for Olympia fair, Wronged by Cymosco, who in prison mews Her plighted spouse, that ere he makes repair Further, he gives her hope to venge the abuse: He does so, and departs; and with his spouse Departs Bireno, to repeat his vows.

I What cannot, when he has a heart possess'd This false and cruel traitor Love? since he Can banish from Orlando's faithful breast Such tried allegiance and due loyalty?

Wise, full of all regards, and of the blest And glorious church the champion wont to be, Now, little for himself or uncle, driven By a vain love, he cares, and less for heaven.

II But I excuse him well, rejoiced to know I have like partner in my vice: for still To seek my good I too am faint and slow, But sound and nimble in pursuit of ill.

The count departs, disguised in sable show, Nor for so many friends, with froward will, Deserted cares; and comes where on the plain Are camped the hosts of Afric and of Spain;

III Rather uncamped: for, in less troops or more, Rains under shed and tree had driven the band.

Here ten, there twenty, seven or eight, or four, Near or further off, Orlando scanned.

Each sleeps, oppressed with toil and wearied sore; This stretched on earth, that propped upon his hand: They sleep, and many might the count have slain, Yet never bared his puissant Durindane.

IV So generous is Orlando's heart, he base Esteems it were to smite a sleeping foe.

Now this he seeks, and now that other place; Yet cannot track his lady, high or low.

If he finds any one in waking case, Sighing, to him he paints her form and show; Then prays him that for courtesy, he where The damsel is, will reach him to repair.

V And when the day its shining light displayed, He wholly searched the Moorish army through.

In that the gentle warrior was arrayed In Arab weeds, he this might safely do; And of his purpose came alike in aid That other tongues beside the French he knew; And in the African so well was read, He seemed in Tripoly one born and bred:

VI He sojourns there three days, the camp to see; Still seeking nought beside: next up and down, Within, without, both burgh and city he Spies; nor surveys the realm of France alone; But fair Auvergne, and even Gascony Revisits, to its farthest little town.

Roves from Provence to Brittany's domain, And from the Picards to the bounds of Spain.

VII Between October and November's moon, In that dull season when the leafy vest Is stript from trembling plant, whose limbs are shown Of all their mantling foliage dispossess'd And in close flights the swarming birds are flown, Orlando enters on his amorous quest: This he pursues the livelong winter through, Nor quits when gladsome spring returns anew.

VIII As (such his wont) from land to land he goes, A river's side he reaches on a day; Which to the neighbouring sea in quiet flows.

Bretons and Normans parting on its way: But, swoln with mountain rain and melted snows, Then thundered, white with foam and flashing-spray: And with impetuous stream had overtopt Its brim, and burst the bridge, and pa.s.sage stopt.

IX The paladin this bank and the other eyed, Along the river's channel, to explore, Since neither fish nor fowl, if from his side He could gain footing on the adverse sh.o.r.e; When, with a damsel in the p.o.o.p, he spied A ready pinnace that towards him bore: She steered, as if she would approach the strand; But would not let her shallop make the land.

X Steered not to land; as haply with suspicion To take a lading, in her own despite.

To her the good Orlando made pet.i.tion To put him o'er the stream; and she: "No knight Pa.s.ses this ferry, but upon condition He shall his faith and promise duly plight, That he will do a battle, at my prayer, Upon the justest quarrel and most fair.

XI "So that if thou on that other sh.o.r.e to land Dost by my aid, Sir cavalier, desire, Promise me, ere the month which is at hand"

(The damsel so pursued her speech) "expire, That thou wilt join the Hibernian monarch's hand, Who forms a fair armada, in his ire, To sack Ebuda's isle; of all compress'd By ocean's circling waves, the cruellest.

XII "Know, beyond Ireland, in the briny flood, An island, amid many others, lies; Ebuda is its name; whose people rude (Such is their law), in search of plunder hies; And all the women that it takes, for food To a voracious animal supplies; Which every day to sh.o.r.e for this does speed, And finds new wife or maid whereon to feed:

XIII "For of these merchant still and Corsair sell A large supply, and most of those most fair.

Reckoning one slain a-day, you thus may well Compute what wives and maids have perished there.

But if compa.s.sion in your bosom dwell, Nor you to Love an utter rebel are, Be you contented with this band to wend, United for such profitable end."

XIV To hear the whole Orlando scarce could bear, Ere to be first in that emprize he swore, As one who evil deed misliked to hear, And with impatience like relation bore: Hence first induced to think, and next to fear, Angelica is captive on that sh.o.r.e: Since he so long the missing maid pursues, Nor of the damsel yet can gather news.

XV Breaking his every scheme, this phantasy The troubled cavalier did so confound, That will all speed to that fell island he Resolved to navigate; nor yet the round Of a new sun was buried in the sea, Ere he a vessel at St. Malo's found; In which, embarking on his quest, the count Put forth, and cleared that night St. Michael's Mount.

XVI Breac and Landriglier past on the left hand, Orlando's vessel skims the Breton sh.o.r.e; Then shapes her course towards the chalky strand, Whence England's isle the name of Albion bore: But the south wind, which had her canvas fanned, Shifts to north-west, and freshening, blows so sore, The mariners are fain to strike all sail, And wear and scud before the boisterous gale.

XVII A distance traversed in four days, in one Backwards the ceaseless wind the frigate bore; The helmsman kept the sea, lest she should run Aground, and break like gla.s.s upon the sh.o.r.e.

The wind upon the fifth day changed its tune, So loud and furious through the other four; And let, without more strife, the vessel gain A port, where Antwerp's river met the main.

XVIII As soon as harboured there in shattered plight, The weary mariners their frigate moor, Out of a city, seated on the right Of that fair stream, descends upon the sh.o.r.e, As his gray hairs may warrant him, a wight Stricken in years; who, full of courteous lore, Turns to the county, after greetings due, Reputing him the leader of that crew.

XIX And prays him, on a damsel's part, 'that he To her would think not irksome to repair; Whom of unequalled affability And sweetness, he would find, as well as fair; Or otherwise would be content, that she Should to his bark resort, to seek him there, Nor prove less pliant than had been before All the knights errant, who had sought that sh.o.r.e:

XX For hitherto, by land or sea conveyed, No cavalier had journeyed to that place That had refused to parlay with the maid, And give her counsel in a cruel case.'

Orlando, hearing this, no more delayed, But issued from the bark with hurried pace, And, in all kind and courteous usage bred, His way directed where the ancient led.

XXI With him did Roland to the city go, And at the bottom of a palace-stair, Conducted by that elder, full of woe A lady found, if face may grief declare, And sable cloth, with which (a mournful show) Chamber, and hall, and gallery, furnished were; Who, after honourable welcome paid, Seated the paladin, and sadly said:

XXII "The daughter of the Count of Holland," (cried The Lady) "know in me, Sir cavalier.

Though not his only offspring (for beside Myself two brothers were) to him so dear, That, for whatever favour I applied, I never met refusal from the peer.

I living glady in this happy sort, A duke by chance was guested at our court;

XXIII "The Duke of Zealand, meaning for Biscay; With purpose there to war upon the Moor; His youth and beauty, then in manhood's May, And force of love, unfelt by me before, Made me, with little strife, his easy prey: Persuaded by his outward cheer yet more, I thought, and think, and still shall think, the peer Loved me, and loves me yet with heart sincere.

XXIV "Those days, whenas the wind was contrary, (Which fair for me, if foul for others blew) To others forty seemed, an hour to me; So upon speedy wings the moments flew.

This while, we oftentimes held colloquy, When, to be given with solemn right and due, I promised him, and he to me, his hand, On his return, in wedlock's holy band.