But you would climb yon cliffs, and for your gains Will find a prison-house, and be it so!

Whate'er betide you, blame yourself alone; You go forewarned to meet a fate foreshown."

LXII So said, the cavalier remounts his horse, And serves the gallant damsel as a guide; Who is prepared Rogero's gaol to force, Or to be slain, or in his prison stied.

When lo! a messenger, in furious course, Called to the dame to stay, and rode and cried.

This was the post who told Circa.s.sa's lord What valiant hand had stretched him on the sward.

LXIII The courier, who so plied his restless heel, News of Narbonne and of Montpelier bore: How both had raised the standard of Castile, All Acquamorta siding with the Moor; And how Ma.r.s.eilles' disheartened men appeal To her, who should protect her straightened sh.o.r.e; And how, through him, her citizens demand Counsel and comfort at their captain's hand.

LXIV This goodly town, with many miles of plain, Which lie 'twixt Var and Rhone, upon the sea, To her was given by royal Charlemagne: Such trust he placed in her fidelity.

Still wont with wonder on the tented plain The prowess of that valiant maid to see.

And now the panting courier, as I said, Rode from Ma.r.s.eilles to ask the lady's aid.

LXV Whether or not she should the call obey, The youthful damsel doubts some little s.p.a.ce; Strong in one balance Fame and Duty weigh, But softer thoughts both Fame and Duty chase: And she, at length, resolved the emprize to a.s.say, And free Rogero from the enchanted place: Or, should her valour in the adventure fail, Would with the cherished lover share his jail.

LXVI And did with such excuse that post appay, He was contented on her will to wait: Then turned the bridle to resume her way With Pinabel, who seemed no whit elate.

Since of that line he knows the damsel gay, Held in such open and such secret hate; And future trouble to himself foresees, Were he detected as a Maganzese.

LXVII For 'twixt Maganza's and old Clermont's line There was an ancient and a deadly feud: And oft to blows the rival houses came, And oft in civil blood their hands embrued.

And hence some treason to this gentle dame In his foul heart, the wicked County brewed; Or, as the first occasion served, would stray Out of the road, and leave her by the way.

LXVIII And so the traitor's troubled fancy rack Fear, doubt, and his own native, rancorous mood, That unawares he issued from the track, And found himself within a gloomy wood: Where a rough mountain reared its s.h.a.ggy back, Whose stony peak above the forest stood; The daughter of Dodona's duke behind, d.o.g.g.i.ng his footsteps through the thicket blind.

LXIX He, when he saw himself within the brake, Thought to abandon his unweeting foe; And to the dame -- " 'Twere better that we make For shelter ere the gathering darkness grow; And, yonder mountain past, (save I mistake) A tower is seated in the vale below.

Do you expect me then, while from the peak I measure the remembered place I seek."

LXX So said, he pushed his courser up the height Of that lone mountain; in his evil mind Revolving, as he went, some scheme or sleight To rid him of the gentle dame behind.

When lo! a rocky cavern met his sight, Amid those precipices dark and blind: Its sides descended thirty yards and more, Worked smooth, and at the bottom was a door.

LXXI A void was at the bottom, where a wide Portal conducted to an inner room: From thence a light shone out on every side, As of a torch illumining the gloom.

Fair Bradamant pursued her faithless guide, Suspended there, and pondering on her doom: And came upon the felon where he stood, Fearing lest she might lose him in the wood.

LXXII When her approach the County's first intent Made vain, the wily traitor sought to mend His toils, and some new stratagem invent To rid her thence, or bring her to her end.

And so to meet the approaching lady went, And showed the cave, and prayed her to ascend; And said that in its bottom he had seen A gentle damsel of bewitching mien.

LXXIII Who, by her lovely semblance and rich vest, Appeared a lady of no mean degree; But melancholy, weeping, and distressed, As one who pined there in captivity: And that when he towards the entrance pressed, To learn who that unhappy maid might be, One on the melancholy damsel flew, And her within that inner cavern drew.

LXXIV The beauteous Bradamant, who was more bold Than wary, gave a ready ear; and, bent To help the maid, imprisoned in that hold, Sought but the means to try the deep descent.

Then, looking round, descried an elm-tree old, Which furnished present means for her intent: And from the tree, with boughs and foliage stored, Lopt a long branch, and shaped it with her sword.

LXXV The severed end she to the count commended, Then, grasping it, hung down that entrance steep.

With her feet foremost, by her arms suspended: When asking if she had the skill to leap, The traitor, with a laugh, his hands extended.

And plunged his helpless prey into the deep.

"And thus," exclaimed the ruffian, "might I speed With thee each sucker of thy cursed seed!"

LXXVI But not, as was the will of Pinabel, Such cruel lot fair Bradamant a.s.sayed; For striking on the bottom of the cell, The stout elm-bough so long her weight upstayed, That, though it split and splintered where it fell, It broked her fall, and saved the gentle maid.

Some while astounded there the lady lay, As the ensuing canto will display.

CANTO 3

ARGUMENT Restored to sense, the beauteous Bradamant Finds sage Melissa in the vaulted tomb, And hears from her of many a famous plant And warrior, who shall issue from her womb.

Next, to release Rogero from the haunt Of old Atlantes, learns how from the groom, Brunello hight, his virtuous ring to take; And thus the knight's and others' fetters break.

I Who will vouchsafe me voice that shall ascend As high as I would raise my n.o.ble theme?

Who will afford befitting words, and lend Wings to my verse, to soar the pitch I scheme?

Since fiercer fire for such ill.u.s.trious end, Than what was wont, may well my song beseem.

For this fair portion to my lord is due Which sings the sires from whom his lineage grew.

II Than whose fair line, 'mid those by heavenly grace Chosen to minister this earth below, You see not, Phoebus, in your daily race, One that in peace or war doth fairer show; Nor lineage that hath longer kept its place; And still shall keep it, if the lights which glow Within me, but aright inspire my soul, While the blue heaven shall turn about the pole.

III But should I seek at full its worth to blaze, Not mine were needful, but that n.o.ble lyre Which sounded at your touch the thunderer's praise, What time the giants sank in penal fire.

Yet should you instruments, more fit to raise The votive work, bestow, as I desire, All labour and all thought will I combine, To shape and shadow forth the great design.

IV Till when, this chisel may suffice to scale The stone, and give my lines a right direction; And haply future study may avail, To bring the stubborn labour to perfection.

Return we now to him, to whom the mail Of hawberk, shield, and helm, were small protection: I speak of Pinabel the Maganzeze, Who hopes the damsel's death, whose fall he sees.

V The wily traitor thought that damsel sweet Had perished on the darksome cavern's floor, And with pale visages hurried his retreat From that, through him contaminated door.

And, thence returning, clomb into his seat: Then, like one who a wicked spirit bore, To add another sin to evil deed, Bore off with him the warlike virgin's steed.

VI Leave we sometime the wretch who, while he layed Snares for another, wrought his proper doom; And turn we to the damsel he betrayed, Who had nigh found at once her death and tomb.

She, after rising from the rock, dismayed At her shrewd fall, and gazing through the gloom, Beheld and pa.s.sed that inner door, which gave Entrance to other and more s.p.a.cious cave.

VII For the first cavern in a second ended, Fashioned in form of church, and large and square; With roof by cunning architect extended On shafts of alabaster rich and rare.

The flame of a clear-burning lamp ascended Before the central altar; and the glare, Illuminating all the s.p.a.ce about, Shone through the gate, and lit the cave without.

VIII Touched with the sanctifying thoughts which wait On worthy spirit in a holy place, She prays with eager lips, and heart elate, To the Disposer of all earthly grace: And, kneeling, hears a secret wicket grate In the opposing wall; whence, face to face, A woman issuing forth, the maid addresses, Barefoot, ungirt, and with dishevelled tresses.

IX "O generous Bradamant," the matron cried, "Know thine arrival in this hallowed hold Was not unauthorized of heavenly guide: And the prophetic ghost of Merlin told, Thou to this cave shouldst come by path untried, Which covers the renowned magician's mould.

And here have I long time awaited thee, To tell what is the heavens' p.r.o.nounced decree.

X "This is the ancient memorable cave Which Merlin, that enchanter sage, did make: Thou may'st have heard how that magician brave Was cheated by the Lady of the Lake.

Below, beneath the cavern, is the grave Which holds his bones; where, for that lady's sake, His limbs (for such her will) the wizard spread.

Living he laid him there, and lies there dead.

XI "Yet lives the spirit of immortal strain; Lodged in the enchanter's corpse, till to the skies The trumpet call it, or to endless pain, As it with dove or raven's wing shall rise.

Yet lives the voice, and thou shalt hear how plain From its sepulchral case of marble cries: Since this has still the past and future taught To every wight that has its counsel sought.

XII "Long days have pa.s.sed since I from distant land My course did to this cemetery steer, That in the solemn mysteries I scanned, Merlin to me the truth should better clear; And having compa.s.sed the design I planned, A month beyond, for thee, have tarried here; Since Merlin, still with certain knowledge summing Events, prefixed this moment for thy coming."

XIII The daughter of Duke Aymon stood aghast, And silent listened to the speech; while she Knew not, sore marvelling at all that pa.s.sed, If 'twere a dream or a reality.

At length, with modest brow, and eyes down cast, Replied (like one that was all modesty), "And is this wrought for me? and have I merit Worthy the workings of prophetic spirit?"

XIV And full of joy the adventure strange pursues, Moving with ready haste behind the dame, Who brings her to the sepulchre which mews The bones and spirit, erst of Merlin's name.

The tomb, of hardest stone which masons use, Shone smooth and lucid, and as red as flame.

So that although no sun-beam pierced the gloom, Its splendour lit the subterraneous room.

XV Whether it be the native operation O certain stones, to shine like torch i' the dark, Or whether force of spell or fumigation, (A guess that seems to come more near the mark) Or sign made under mystic constellation, The blaze that came from the sepulchral ark Discovered sculpture, colour, gems, and gilding, And whatsoever else adorned the building.