LXXII Yet knew not that it was Anglantes' peer This while, of whom he had pursued the beat; Though that he was a puissant cavalier By certain signals was he taught to weet.

More than Zerbino him he eyed, and, near, Perused the paladin from head to feet; Then finding all the tokens coincide, "Thou art the man I seek," the paynim cried.

LXXIII " 'Tis now ten days," to him the Tartar said, "That thee I still have followed; so the fame Had stung me, and in me such longing bred, Which of thee to our camp of Paris came: When, amid thousands by thy hand laid dead, Scarce one alive fled thither, to proclaim The mighty havoc made by thy good hand, 'Mid Tremisena's and Noritia's band.

LXXIV "I was not, as I knew, in following slow Both to behold thee, and to prove thy might; And by the surcoat o'er thine arms I know, (Instructed of thy vest) thou art the knight: And if such cognizance thou didst not show, And, 'mid a hundred, wert concealed from sight, For what thou art thou plainly wouldst appear, Thy worth conspicuous in thy haughty cheer."

LXXV "No one can say," to him Orlando cried, "But that a valiant cavalier thou art: For such a brave desire can ill reside, 'Tis my a.s.surance, in a humble heart.

Since thou wouldst see me, would that thou inside, Couldst as without, behold me! I apart Will lay me helm, that in all points thy will And purpose of thy quest I may fulfil.

LXXVI "But when thou well hast scanned me with thine eye, To that thine other wish as well attend: It yet remains for thee to satisfy The want, which leads thee after me to wend; That thou mayest mark if, in my valour, I Agree with that bold cheer thou so commend."

-- "And now," (exclaimed the Tartar), "for the rest!

For my first want is thoroughly redrest."

LXXVII Orlando, all this while, from head to feet, Searches the paynim with inquiring eyes: Both sides, and next the pommel of his seat Surveys, yet neither mace nor tuck espies; And asks how he the combat will repeat, If his good lance at the encounter flies.

-- "Take thou no care for that," replied the peer; "Thus into many have I stricken fear.

LXXVIII "I have an oath in Heaven to gird no blade, Till Durindana from the count be won.

Pursuing whom, I through each road here strayed, With him to reckon for more posts than one.

If thou wilt please to hear, my oath I made When on my head I placed this morion: Which casque, with all the other arms I bear, A thousand years ago great Hector's were.

LXXIX "To these good arms nought lacks beside the sword; How it was stolen, to you I cannot say: This now, it seems, is borne by Brava's lord, And hence is he so daring in affray.

Yet well I trust, if I the warrior board, To make him render his ill-gotten prey.

Yet more; I seek the champion with desire To avenge the famous Agrican, my sire.

Lx.x.x "Him this Orlando slew by treachery, I wot, nor could have slain in other wise."

The count could bear no more, and, " 'Tis a lie!"

(Exclaims), "and whosoever says so, lies: Him fairly did I slay; Orlando, I.

But what thou seekest Fortune here supplies; And this the faulchion is, which thou has sought, Which shall be thine if by thy valour bought.

Lx.x.xI "Although mine is the faulchion, rightfully, Let us for it in courtesy contend; Nor will I in this battle, that it be More mine than thine, but to a tree suspend: Bear off the weapon freely hence, if me Thou kill or conquer." As he made an end, He Durindana from his belt unslung, And in mid-field upon a sapling hung.

Lx.x.xII Already distant half the range of bow Is from his opposite each puissant knight, And p.r.i.c.ks against the other, nothing slow To slack the reins or ply the rowels bright.

Already dealt is either mighty blow, Where the helm yields a pa.s.sage to the sight.

As if of ice, the shattered lances fly, Broke in a thousand pieces, to the sky.

Lx.x.xIII One and the other lance parforce must split, In that the cavaliers refuse to bend; The cavaliers, who in the saddle sit, Returning with the staff's unbroken end.

The warriors, who with steed had ever smit, Now, as a pair of hinds in rage contend For the mead's boundary or river's right, Armed with two clubs, maintain a cruel fight.

Lx.x.xIV The truncheons which the valiant champions bear, Fail in the combat, and few blows resist; Both rage with mightier fury, here and there, Left without other weapon than the fist; With this the desperate foes engage, and, where The hand can grapple, plate and mail untwist.

Let none desire, to guard himself from wrongs, A heavier hammer or more holding tongs.

Lx.x.xV How can the Saracen conclude the fray With honour, which he haughtily had sought?

'Twere forty to waste time in an a.s.say Where to himself more harm the smiter wrought Than to the smitten: in conclusion, they Closed, and the paynim king Orlando caught, And strained against his bosom; what Jove's son Did by Antaeus, thinking to have done.

Lx.x.xVI Him griped athwart, he, in impetuous mood, Would now push from him, now would closely strain; And waxed so wroth that, in his heat of blood, The Tartar little thought about his rein.

Firm in his stirrups self-collected stood Roland, and watched his vantage to obtain; He to the other courser's forehead slipt His wary hand, and thence the bridle stript.

Lx.x.xVII The Saracen a.s.says with all his might To choak, and from the sell his foeman tear: With either knee Orlando grasps it tight, Nor can the Tartar more him, here or there.

But with the straining of the paynim knight, The girts which hold his saddle broken are.

Scarce conscious of his fall, Orlando lies, With feet i' the stirrups, tightening yet his thighs.

Lx.x.xVIII As falls a sack of armour, with such sound Tumbled Orlando, when he prest the plain.

King Mandricardo's courser, when he found His head delivered from the guiding rein, Made off with him, unheeding what the ground, Stumbling through woodland, or by pathway plain, Hither and t.i.ther, blinded by his fear; And bore with him the Tartar cavalier.

Lx.x.xIX The beauteous Doralice, who sees her guide So quit the field, -- dismayed at his retreat, And wonted in his succour to confide, Her hackney drives behind his courser fleet: The paynim rates the charger, in his pride, And smites him oftentimes with hands and feet; Threatening, as if he understood his lore; And where he'd stop the courser, chafes him more.

XC Not looking to his feet, by high or low, The beast of craven kind, with headlong force Three miles in rings had gone, and more would go, But that into a fosse which stopt their course, Not lined with featherbed or quilt below, Tumble, reversed, the rider and his horse.

On the hard ground was Mandricardo thrown, Yet neither spoiled himself, nor broke a bone:

XCI Here stopt the horse; but him he could not guide, Left without bit his motions to restrain.

Brimfull of rage and choler, at his side, The Tartar held him, grappled by the mane.

"Put upon him" (to Mandricardo cried His lady, Doralice) "my hackney's rein, Since for the bridle I have little use; For gentle is my palfrey, reined or loose."

XCII The paynim deems it were discourtesy To accept the proffer by the damsel made.

But his through other means a rein will be; Since Fortune, who his wishes well appaid, Made thitherward the false Gabrina flee, After she young Zerbino had betrayed: Who like a she-wolf fled, which, as she hies, At distance hears the hounds and hunters' cries.

XCIII She had upon her back the gallant gear, And the same youthful ornaments and vest, Stript from the ill-taught damsel for her jeer, That in her spoils the beldam might be drest, And rode the horse that damsel backed whilere; Who was among the choicest and the best.

Ere yet aware of her, the ancient dame On Doralice and Mandricardo came.

XCIV Stordilane's daughter and the Tartar king Laugh at the vest of youthful show and shape, Upon that ancient woman, figuring Like monkey, rather say, like grandam ape.

From her the Saracen designs to wring The rein, and does the deed: upon the rape Of the crone's bridle, he, with angry cry, Threatens and scares her horse, and makes him fly.

XCV He flies and hurries through the forest gray That ancient woman, almost dead with fear, By hill and dale, by straight and crooked way, By fosse and cliff, at hazard, there and here.

But it imports me not so much to say Of her, that I should leave Anglantes' peer; Who, from annoyance of a foe released, The broken saddle at his ease re-pieced.

XCVI He mounts his horse, and watches long, before Departing, if the foe will re-appear; Nor seeing puissant Mandricardo more, At last resolves in search of him to steer.

But, as one nurtured well in courtly lore, From thence departed not the cavalier, Till he with kind salutes, in friendly strain, Fair leaves had taken of the loving twain.

XCVII At his departure waxed Zerbino woe, And Isabella wept for sorrow: they Had wended with him, but the count, although Their company was fair and good, said nay; Urging for reason, nought so ill could show In cavalier, as, when upon his way To seek his foeman out, to take a friend, Who him with arms might succour or defend.

XCVIII Next, if they met the Saracen, before They should encounter him, besought them say, That he, Orlando, would for three days more.

Waiting him, in that territory stay: But, after that, would seek the flags which bore The golden lilies, and King Charles' array.

That Mandricardo through their means might know, If such his pleasure, where to find his foe.

XCIX The lovers promised willingly to do This, and whatever else he should command.

By different ways the cavaliers withdrew, One on the right, and one on the left hand.

The count, ere other path he would pursue, Took from the sapling, and replaced, his brand.

And, where he weened he might the paynim best Encounter, thitherward his steed addrest.

C The course in pathless woods, which, without rein, The Tartar's charger had pursued astray, Made Roland for two days, with fruitless pain, Follow him, without tidings of his way.

Orlando reached a rill of crystal vein, On either bank of which a meadow lay; Which, stained with native hues and rich, he sees, And dotted o'er with fair and many trees.

CI The mid-day fervour made the shelter sweet To hardy herd as well as naked swain; So that Orlando, well beneath the heat Some deal might wince, opprest with plate and chain.

He entered, for repose, the cool retreat, And found it the abode of grief and pain; And place of sojourn more accursed and fell, On that unhappy day, than tongue can tell.

CII Turning him round, he there, on many a tree, Beheld engraved, upon the woody sh.o.r.e, What as the writing of his deity He knew, as soon as he had marked the lore.

This was a place of those described by me, Whither ofttimes, attended by Medore, From the near shepherd's cot had wont to stray The beauteous lady, sovereign of Catay.