Marphisa, Dudo, Sansonet, and all The knights or footmen harboured in that hall.

Lx.x.xIV Hence to descend towards the sea or port The way across the place of combat lies; Nor was there other pa.s.sage, long or short.

Sir Guido so to his companions cries: And having ceased his comrades to exhort, To do their best set forth in silent wise, And in the place appeared, amid the throng, Head of a squad above a hundred strong.

Lx.x.xV Toward the other gate Sir Guido went, Hurrying his band, but, gathered far and nigh The mighty mult.i.tude, for aye intent To smite, and clad in arms, when they descry The comrades whom he leads, perceive his bent, And truly deem he is about to fly.

All in a thought betake them to their bows, And at the portal part the knight oppose.

Lx.x.xVI Sir Guido and the cavaliers who go Beneath that champion's guidance, and before The others bold Marphisa, were not slow To strike, and laboured hard to force the door.

But such a storm of darts from ready bow, Dealing on all sides death or wounding sore, Was rained in fury on the troop forlorn, They feared at last to encounter skaith and scorn.

Lx.x.xVII Of proof the corslet was each warrior wore, Who without this would have had worse to fear: Sansonnet's horse was slain, and that which bore Marphisa: to himself the English peer Exclaimed, "Why wait I longer? As if more My horn could ever succour me than here.

Since the sword steads not, I will make a.s.say If with my bugle I can clear the way."

Lx.x.xVIII As he was customed in extremity, He to his mouth applied the bugle's round; The wide world seemed to tremble, earth and sky, As he in air discharged the horrid sound.

Such terror smote the dames, that bent to fly, When in their ears the deafening horn was wound, Not only they the gate unguarded left, But from the circus reeled, of wit bereft.

Lx.x.xIX As family, awaked in sudden wise, Leaps from the windows and from lofty height, Periling life and limb, when in surprise They see, now near, the fire's encircling light, Which had, while slumber sealed their heavy eyes, By little and by little waxed at night: Reckless of life, thus each, impelled by dread, At sound of that appalling bugle fled.

XC Above, below, and here and there, the rout Rise in confusion and attempt to fly.

At once, above a thousand swarm about Each entrance, to each other's lett, and lie In heaps: from window these, or stage without, Leap headlong; in the press these smothered die.

Broken is many an arm, and many a head; And one lies crippled, and another dead.

XCI Amid the mighty ruin which ensued, Cries pierce the very heavens on every part.

Where'er the sound is heard, the mult.i.tude, In panic at the deafening echo, start.

When you are told that without hardihood Appear the rabble, and of feeble heart, This need not more your marvel; for by nature The hare is evermore a timid creature.

XCII But of Marphisa what will be your thought, And Guido late so furious? -- of the two Young sons of Olivier, that lately wrought Such deeds in honour of their lineage? who Lately a hundred thousand held as nought, And now, deprived of courage, basely flew, As ring-doves flutter and as coneys fly, Who hear some mighty noise resounding nigh.

XCIII For so to friend as stranger, noxious are The powers that in the enchanted horn reside.

Sansonet, Guido, follow, with the pair Or brethren bold, Marphisa terrified.

Nor flying, can they to such distance fare, But that their ears are dinned. On every side Astolpho, on his foaming courser borne, Lends louder breath to his enchanted horn.

XCIV One sought the sea, and one the mountain-top, One fled the hide herself in forest h.o.a.r; And this, who turned not once nor made a stop, Not for ten days her headlong flight forbore: These from the bridge in that dread moment drop, Never to climb the river's margin more.

So temple, house and square and street were drained, That nigh unpeopled the wide town remained.

XCV Marphisa, Guido, and the brethren two, With Sansonetto, pale and trembling, hie Towards the sea, and behind these the crew Of frighted mariners and merchants fly; And 'twixt the forts, in bark, prepared with view To their escape, discover Alery; Who in sore haste receives the warriors pale, And bids them ply their oars and make all sail.

XCVI The duke within and out the town had bear From the surrounding hills to the sea-side, And of its people emptied every street.

All fly before the deafening sound, and hide: Many in panic, seeking a retreat, Lurk, in some place obscure and filthy stied; Many, not knowing whither to repair, Plunge in the neighbouring sea, and perish there.

XCVII The duke arrives, seeking the friendly band, Whom he had hoped to find upon the quay; He turns and gazes round the desert strand, And none is there -- directs along the bay His eyes, and now, far distant from the land, Beholds the parting frigate under way.

So that the paladin, for his escape -- The vessel gone -- must other project shape.

XCVIII Let him depart! nor let it trouble you That he so long a road must beat alone; Where, never without fear, man journeys through Wild paynim countries: danger is there none, But what he with his bugle may eschew, Whose dread effect the English duke has shown; And let his late companions be our care, Who trembling to the beach had made repair.

XCIX They from that cruel and ensanguined ground To seaward, under all their canvas, bore; And having gained such offing, that the sound Of that alarming horn was heard no more, Unwonted shame inflicted such a wound, That all a face of burning crimson wore.

One dares not eye the other, and they stand With downcast looks, a mute and mournful band.

C Fixed on his course, the pilot pa.s.ses by Cyprus and Rhodes, and ploughs the Aegean sea: Beholds a hundred islands from him fly, And Malea's fearful headland; fanned by free And constant wind, sees vanish from the eye The Greek Morea; rounding Sicily, Into the Tuscan sea his frigate veers, And, coasting Italy's fair region, steers:

CI Last rises Luna, where his family Is waiting his return, the patron h.o.a.r Gives thanks to G.o.d at having pa.s.sed the sea Without more harm, and makes the well-known sh.o.r.e.

Here, offering pa.s.sage to their company, They find a master, ready to unmoor For France, and that same day his pinnace climb; Thence wafted to Ma.r.s.eilles in little time.

CII There was not Bradamant, who used to sway The land, and had that city in her care, And who (if present there) to make some stay Would have compelled them by her courteous prayer.

They disembarked; and that same hour away Did bold Marphisa at a venture fare; Bidding adieu to salvage Guido's wife, And to the four, her comrades in the strife:

CIII Saying she deems unfitting for a knight To fare in like great fellowship; that so The starlings and the doves in flock unite, And every beast who fears -- the stag and doe; But hawk and eagle, that in other's might Put not their trust, for ever singly go; And lion, bear, and tyger, roam alone, Who fear no prowess greater than their own.

CIV But none with her opine, and, in the lack Of a companion, singly must she fare, So then, alone and friendless, she a track Uncouth pursues, and through a wooded lair.

Gryphon the white and Aquilant the black Take road more beaten with the other pair; And on the following day a castle see, Within which they are harboured courteously.

CV Courteously I, in outward show, would say; For soon the contrary was made appear.

Since he, the castellain, who with display Of kindness sheltered them and courteous cheer, The night ensuing took them as they lay Couched in their beds, secure and void of fear.

Nor from the snare would he his prisoners loose, Till they had sworn to observe an evil use.

CVI But I will first pursue the martial maid, Ere more of these, fair sir, I shall proclaim.

Beyond the Durence, Rhone, and Saone she strayed, And to the foot of sunny mountain came; And there approaching in black gown arrayed, Beside a torrent, saw an ancient dame; Who with long journey weak, and wearied sore, Appeared, but pined by melancholy more.

CVII This was the beldam who had wont to ply Serving the robbers in the caverned mount; Whither stern Justice sent (that they might die By that good paladin) Anglante's count.

The aged harridan, for cause which I To you shall in another place recount, Now many days by path obscure had flown, Still fearing lest her visage should be known.

CVIII The semblance now of foreign cavalier She in Marphisa saw, in arms and vest; And hence she flies not her, though wont to fear, (As being natives of that land) the rest; -- Nay, with security and open cheer, Stops at the ford the damsel to arrest: Stops at the ford -- where that old beldam meets Marphisa, and with fair encounter greets.

CIX And next implored the maid, she of her grace Would bear her on the croupe to the other sh.o.r.e.

Marphisa, who was come of gentle race, The hag with her across the torrent bore; And is content to bear, till she can place In a securer road the beldam h.o.a.r, Clear of a s.p.a.cious marish: as its end They see a cavalier towards them wend.

CX In shining armour and in fair array, The warrior rode on saddle richly wrought Towards the river, and upon his way With him a single squire and damsel brought.

Of pa.s.sing beauty was the lady gay, But little pleasing was her semblance haught; All overblown with insolence and pride, Worthy the cavalier who was her guide.

CXI He of Maganza was a count, who bore The lady with him (Pinabello hight): The same who Bradamant, some months before, Had plunged into a hollow cave in spite.

Those many sobs, those burning sighs and sore, Those tears which had nigh quenched the warrior's sight, -- All for the damsel were, now at his side; And then by that false necromancer stied.

CXII But when the magic tower upon the hill Was razed, the dwelling of Atlantes h.o.a.r, And every one was free to rove at will, Through Bradamant's good deed and virtuous lore, The damsel, who had been compliant still With the desires of Pinabel before, Rejoined him, and now journeying in a round With him, from castle was to castle bound.

CXIII As wanton and ill-customed, when she spies Marphisa's aged charge approaching near, She cannot rein her saucy tongue, but plies Here, in her petulance, with laugh and jeer.

Marphisa haught, unwont in any wise Outrage from whatsoever part to hear, Makes answer to the dame, in angry tone, That handsomer than her she deems the crone.

CXIV And that she this would prove upon her knight With pact that she might strip the bonnibell Of gown and palfrey, if, o'erthrown in fight, Her champion from his goodly courser fell.

-- In silence to have overpast the slight Would have been sin and shame in Pinabel, Who for short answer seized his shield and spear, And wheeled, and drove at her in fierce career.

CXV Marphisa grasped a mighty lance, and thrust, Encountering him, at Pinabello's eyes; And stretched him so astounded in the dust, That motionless an hour the warrior lies.

Marphisa, now victorious in the just, Gave orders to strip off the glorious guise And ornaments wherewith the maid was drest, And with the spoils her ancient crone invest;

CXVI And willed that she should don the youthful weed, Bedizened at the haughty damsel's cost; And took away as well the goodly steed Which her had thither borne, and -- bent to post On her old track -- with her the hag will speed, Who seems most hideous when adorned the most.

Three days the tedious road the couple beat, Without adventure needful to repeat.

CXVII On the fourth day they met a cavalier, Who came in fury galloping alone.

If you the stranger's name desire to hear, I tell you 'twas Zerbino, a king's son, Of beauty and of worth example rare, Now grieved and angered, as unvenged of one, Who a great act of courtesy, which fain The warrior would have done, had rendered vain.