To him replied the captain of the band, Moved by his lordly air, and arms he wore, Glittering with gold and jewels, -- costly gear, Which showed him an ill.u.s.trious cavalier.

XL "In charge" (he said) "we of the daughter go Of him our king, who fills Granada's throne, Espoused by Rodomont of Sarza, though To fame the tidings are as yet unknown.

And we, departing when the sun is low, And the cicala hushed, which now alone Is heard, shall bring her where her father keeps I' the Spanish camp; meanwhile the lady sleeps."

XLI He who for scorn had daffed the world aside, Designs to see at once, how able were Those hors.e.m.e.n to defend the royal bride, Committed by their sovereign to their care.

"The maid, by what I hear, is fair" (he cried).

"Fain would I now be certified, how fair: Then me to her, or her to me convey, For I must quickly wend another way."

XLII "Thou needs art raving mad," replied in few The chief, -- nor more. But with his lance in rest, The Tartar monarch at the speaker flew, And with the levelled spear transfixed his breast.

For the point pierced the yielding corslet through, And lifeless he, perforce, the champaign prest.

The son of Agrican his lance regained, Who weaponless without the spear remained.

XLIII Now sword nor club the warlike Tartar bore, Since, when the Trojan Hector's plate and chain He gained, because the faulchion lacked, he swore (To this obliged), nor swore the king in vain, That save he won the blade Orlando wore, He would no other grasp, -- that Durindane.

Held in high value by Almontes bold, Which Roland bears, and Hector bore of old.

XLIV Great is the Tartar monarch's daring, those At such a disadvantage to a.s.say, He p.r.i.c.ks, with levelled lance, among his foes, Shouting, in fury, -- "Who shall bar my way?" -- Round and about him suddenly they close; These draw the faulchion, and those others lay The spear in rest: a mult.i.tude he slew, Before his lance was broke upon the crew.

XLV When this he saw was broke, the truncheon sound And yet entire, he took, both hands between, And with so many bodies strewed the ground, That direr havoc never yet was seen: And as with that jaw bone, by hazard found, The Hebrew Samson slew the Philistine, Crushed helm and shield; and often side by side, Slain by the truncheon, horse and rider died.

XLVI In running to their death the wretches vie, Nor cease because their comrades perish near: Yet bitterer in such a mode to die, Than death itself, does to the troop appear.

They grudge to forfeit precious life, and lie Crushed by the fragment of a broken spear; And think foul scorn beneath the pounding stake Strangely to die the death of frog or snake.

XLVII But after they at their expense had read That it was ill to die in any way, And near two thirds were now already dead, The rest began to fly in disarray.

As if with what was his the vanquished fled, The cruel paynim, cheated of his prey, Ill bore that any, from the murderous strife Of that scared rabble, should escape with life.

XLVIII As in the well-dried fen or stubble-land, Short time the stalk endures, or stridulous reed, Against the flames, which careful rustic's hand Scatters when Boreas blows the fires to feed; What time they take, and by the north-wind fanned.

Crackle and snap, and through the furrow speed; No otherwise, with little profit, those King Mandricardo's kindled wrath oppose.

XLIX When afterwards he marks the entrance free, Left ill-secured, and without sentinel.

He, following prints (which had been recently Marked on the mead), proceeds, amid the swell Of loud laments, Granada's dame to see, If she as beauteous were as what they tell.

He wound his way 'mid corpses, where the wave, Winding from side to side, a pa.s.sage gave:

L And in the middle of the mead surveyed Doralice (such the gentle lady's name), Who, at the root of an old ash tree laid, Bemoaned her: fast her lamentations came.

And tears, like plenteous vein of water, strayed Into the beauteous bosom of the dame; Who, (so it from her lovely face appeared,) For others mourned, while for herself she feared.

LI Her fear increased when she approaching spied Him foul with blood, and marked his felon cheer; And piercing shrieks the very sky divide Raised by herself and followers, in their fear.

For over and above the troop who guide The fair infanta, squire and cavalier, Came ancient men and matrons in her train, And maids, the fairest of Granada's reign.

LII When that fair face by him of Tartary Is seen, which has no paragon in Spain, Where amid tears (in laughter what were she?) Is twisted Love's inextricable chain.

He knows not if in heaven or earth he be; Nor from his victory reaps other gain, Than yielding up himself a thrall to her, (He knows not why) who was his prisoner.

LIII Yet not so far his courtesy he strained, That he would lose his labour's fruit, although The royal damsel showed, who sorely plained, Such grief as women in despair can show.

He, who the hope within him entertained To turn to sovereign joy her present woe, Would wholly bear her off; whom having placed On a white jennet, he his way retraced.

LIV He dames, maids, ancient men, and others, who Had from Granada with the damsel fared, Kindly dismissed, their journey to pursue; Saying, "My care suffices; I of guard, Of guide, of handmaid will the office do, To serve her in her every need prepared.

Farewell!" and thus unable to withstand The wrong, with tears and sighs withdrew the band,

LV Saying, "How woe-begone will be her sire, When he the miserable case shall hear!

What grief will be the bridegroom's! what his ire!

How dread the vengeance of that cavalier!

When so the lady's needs such help require.

Alas! and why is not the champion near, To save the ill.u.s.trious blood of Stordilane, Ere the thief bears her farther hence, from stain?"

LVI The Tartar, joying in the prize possest, Which he by chance and valour won and wore; To find the warrior of the sable vest Seemed not to have the haste he had before, And stopp'd and loitered, where he whilom prest; And cast about and studied evermore To find some fitting shelter; with desire, In quiet to exhale such amorous fire.

LVII Doralice he consoled this while, whose eyes And cheek were wetted with the frequent tear, And many matters feigned and flattering lies; -- How, known by fame, he long had held her dear, And how his country and glad realm, whose size Shamed others, praised for grandeur far and near, He quitted, not for sight of France or Spain; But to behold that cheek of lovely grain.

LVIII "If a man merits love by loving, I Yours by my love deserve; if it is won By birth, -- who boasts a genealogy Like me, the puissant Agricano's son?

By riches, -- who with me in wealth can vie.

That in dominion yield to G.o.d alone?

By courage, -- I to-day (I ween) have proved That I for courage merit to be loved."

LIX These words, and many others on his part, Love frames and dictates to the Tartar knight, Which sweetly tend to cheer the afflicted heart Of the unhappy maid, disturbed with fright.

By these fear first was laid, and next the smart Sheathed of that woe, which had nigh pierced her sprite; And with more patience thence the maid began To hear, and her new lover's reasons scan.

LX Next much more affable, with courteous lore Seasoning her answers to his suit, replies; Nor looking at the king, sometimes forbore To fix upon his face her pitying eyes.

The paynim thence, whom Love had smote before, Not hopeful now, but certain, of his prize, Deemed that the lovely damsel would not still, As late, be found rebellious to his will.

LXI Riding in her glad company a-field, Which so rejoiced his soul, so satisfied; And being near the time, when to their bield, Warned by the chilly night, all creatures hied, Seeing the sun now low and half concealed, The warrior 'gan in greater hurry ride; Until he heard reed-pipe and whistle sound, And next saw farm and cabin smoking round.

LXII Pastoral lodgings were the dwellings near, Less formed for show, than for conveniency; And the young damsel and the cavalier The herdsman welcomed with such courtesy, That both were pleasured by his kindly cheer.

For not alone dwells Hospitality In court and city; but ofttimes we find In loft and cottage men of gentle kind.

LXIII What afterwards was done at close of day Between the damsel and the Tartar lord, I will not take upon myself to say; So leave to each, at pleasure, to award.

But as they rose the following morn more gay, It would appear they were of fair accord: And on the swain who them such honour showed, Her thanks at parting Doralice bestowed.

LXIV Thence from one place to the other wandering, they Find themselves by a river, as they go.

Which to the sea in silence winds its way, And ill could be p.r.o.nounced to stand or flow, So clear and limpid, that the cheerful day, With nought to intercept it, pierced below.

Upon its bank, beneath a cooling shade, They found two warriors and a damsel laid.

LXV Now lofty Fancy, which one course to run Permits not, calls me hence in sudden wise; And thither I return, where paynims stun Fair France with hosile din and angry cries, About the tent, wherein Troyano's son They holy empire in his wrath defies, And boastful Rodomont, with vengeful doom, Gives Paris to the flames, and levels Rome.

LXVI Tidings had reached the Moorish sovereign's ear That the English had already pa.s.sed the sea; And he bade Garbo's aged king appear, Marsilius, and his heads of chivalry: Who all advised the monarch to prepare For the a.s.sault of Paris. They may be a.s.sured they in the storm will never thrive, Unless 'tis made before the aids arrive.

LXVII Innumerable ladders for the scale Had been collected upon every hand, And plank and beam, and hurdle's twisted mail, For different uses, at the king's command; And bridge and boat; and, what might more avail Than all the rest, a first and second band For the a.s.sault (so bids the monarch) form; Who will himself go forth with them that storm.

LXVIII The emperor, on the vigil of the day Of battle, within Paris, everywhere, By priest and friar of orders black and gray, And white, bade celebrate ma.s.s-rite and prayer; And those who had confessed, a fair array, And from the Stygian demons rescued were, Communicated in such fashions, all, As if they were the ensuing day to fall.

LXIX At the high church, he, girt with paladine And preachers of the word, and barons brave, With much devotion at those acts divine a.s.sisted, and a fair example gave; And there with folded hands and face supine, Exclaimed, "O Lord! although my sins be grave, Permit not, that, in this their utmost need, Thy people suffer for their king's misdeed!

LXX "And if that they should suffer is thy will, And that they should due penance undergo, At least delay thy purpose to fulfil; So that thine enemies deal not the blow.

For, when 'tis given him in his wrath to kill Us who are deemed thy friends, the paynim foe, That thou art without power to save, will cry, Because thou lett'st thy faithful people die:

LXXI "And, for one faithless found, against thy sway A hundred shall throughout the world rebel; So that false Babel's law will have its way, And thus thy blessed faith put down and quell.

Defend thy suffering people, who are they That purged thy tomb from heathen hounds and fell.

And many times and oft, by foes offended, Thy holy church and vicars have defended.

LXXII "That our deserts unfitting are to place I' the scale against our mighty debt, I know; Nor pardon can we hope, if we retrace Our sinful lives; but if thou shouldst bestow In aid, the gift of they redeeming grace, The account is quit and balanced, that we owe; Nor can we of thy succour, Lord, despair, While we in mind thy saving mercy bear."