Let her by other theft herself purvey With other palfrey, as she did whilere; For never will she have this courser more, Who chased by swift Orlando scours the sh.o.r.e.

LXVII Doubt not that she another will provide; And follow we in mad Orlando's rear; Whose rage and fury nevermore subside, Wroth that Angelica should disappear: After that beast along the sands he hied, Aye gaining on the mare in this career.

Now, now he touches her, and lo! The mane He grasps, and now secures her by the rein.

LXVIII Orlando seizes her with that delight That other man might seize a damsel fair; The bit and bridle he adjusts aright, Springs on her back, and o'er the sea-beach bare For many miles impels the palfrey's flight, Without repose or pause, now here, now there: Nor ever sell or bridle be displaced, Nor let her gra.s.s or heartening forage taste.

LXIX As in this course to o'erleap a ditch he sought, Head over heels, she with her rider went: Nor harmed was he, nor felt that tumble aright; But she, with shoulder slipt, lay foully shent.

Long how to bear her thence Orlando thought, And in the end upon his shoulders hent.

He from the bottom climbed, thus loaded sore, And carried her three bow-shots' length and more.

LXX Next, for he felt that weight too irksome grow, He put her down, to lead her by the rein; Who followed him with limping gait and slow, "Come on," Orlando cried, and cried in vain; And, could the palfrey at a gallop go, This ill would satisfy his mood insane.

The halter from her head he last unloosed, Wherewith her hind off-foot the madman noosed.

LXXI 'Tis thus he comforts and drags on that mare, That she may follow with more ease, so led; Who whiles despoiled of flesh, and whiles of hair, Is scathed by stones which that ill road o'erspread.

At length the misused beast, with wear and tear Of the rude rocks, and suffering sore, lies dead.

Orlando nought the slaughtered mare regards, Nor anywise his headlong course r.e.t.a.r.ds.

LXXII To drag that palfrey ceased he not, though dead, Continuing still his course towards the west, And all this while sacked hamlet, farm, and stead, Whenever he by hunger was distrest; And aye to glut himself with meat, and bread, And fruit, he every one by force opprest.

One by his hand was slain, one foully shent; Seldom he stopt, and ever onward went.

LXXIII As much, or little less, would do the knight By his own love, did not that damsel hide; Because the wretch discerns not black from white, And harms where he would help. A curse betide The wonder-working ring, and eke the wight Who gave it to that lady, full or pride!

Since Roland, but for this, would venge the scorn He and a thousand more from her had borne.

LXXIV Would that of her Orlando were possest, And of all women that are above ground!

For one and all are ingrates at the best, Nor is in all an ounce of goodness found.

But it is meet I let my hearer rest Ere my strained chords return a faltering sound, And that he may less tedious deem the rhyme, Defer my story till another time.

CANTO 30

ARGUMENT Great feats achieve Orlando by the way.

The Tartar king is by Rogero slain: For whom fair Bradamant, his spouse, does stay, But Fate forbade, that he who wounded lay To her his plighted promise should maintain.

He after boldly with the brethren made, Their lord Rinaldo in his need to aid.

I When Reason, giving way to heat of blood, Herself from hasty choler ill defends, And, hurried on by blind and furious mood, We with the tongue or hand molest our friends, Though the offence is, after, wept and rued, The penance which we pay is poor amends.

Alas! I sorrow and lament in vain For what I said in other angry strain.

II But like sick man am I, who, sore bested, Suffering with patience many and many a day, When against pain he can no more make head, Yields to his rage, and curses; pain give way, And with it the impetuous wrath is fled, Which moved his ready tongue such ill to say; And he is left his willful rage to rue, But cannot that which he has done undo.

III Well hope I, from your sovereign courtesy, Your pardon, since I crave it, ladies bright; You will excuse, if moved by madness, I Rave in my pa.s.sion; let your censure light On foe, who treats me so despiteously, I could not be reduced to worser plight; Who prompts what sore repents me: Heaven above Knows how she wrongs me, knows how well I love.

IV No less beside myself than Brava's peer And I, nor less my pardon should obtain; He, who by mead or mountain, far or near, Had scowered large portion of the land of Spain, Dragging that jennet in his wild career, Dead as she was, behind him by the rein; But, where a river joined the sea, parforce Abandoned on the bank her mangled corse.

V And he, who could like any otter swim, Leapt in and rose upon the further side.

Behold! a mounted shepherd at the brim Arrived, his horse to water in the tide; Nor when he saw Orlando coming, him Eschewed, whom naked and alone he spied.

-- "My jennet for thy hackney were I fain To barter," cried the madman to the swain:

VI "Her will I show thee, if thou wilt; who dead Upon the river's other margin fell; At leisure may'st thou have her cured," (he said) "And of no other fault have I to tell.

Give me thy hackney, with some boot instead: Prythee, dismount thee, for he likes me well."

The peasant, laughing, answered not a word, But left the fool and p.r.i.c.ked towards the ford.

VII "Hearest thou not? hola! I want thy steed,"

(Cried Roland) and advanced with wrathful cheer.

A solid staff and knotted, for his need, That shepherd had, wherewith he smote the peer; Whose violence and ire all bounds exceed, Who seems withal to wax more fierce than e'er: A cuff he levels at that rustic's head, And splits the solid bone, and lays him dead.

VIII Then leaping on his horse, by different way The country scowers, to make more spoil and wrack: That palfrey never more tastes corn or hay; So that few days exhaust the famished hack.

But not afoot does fierce Orlando stray, Who will not, while he lives, conveyance lack.

As many as he finds, so many steeds -- Their masters slain -- he presses for his needs.

IX He came at last to Malaga, and here Did mightier scathe than he had done elsewhere; For now -- besides that the infuriate peer Of all its people left the country bare, Nor (such the ravage) could another year The desperate havoc of the fool repair -- So many houses burnt he, or cast down, Sacked was a third of that unhappy town.

X Departing thence, insane Orlando flees To Zizera, a seaward town, whose site Is in Gibraltar's bay, or (if you please) Say Gibletar's; for either way 'tis hight; Here, loosening from the land, a boat he sees Filled with a party, and for pleasure dight: Which, for their solace, to the morning gale, Upon that summer sea, had spread their sail.

XI "Hoah! the boat! put back!" the count 'gan cry, Who was in mind to go aboard their barge: But vainly on their ears his clamours die: For of such freight none willingly take charge.

As swiftly as a swallow cleaves the sky, Furrowing the foamy wave the boat goes large.

Orlando urges on, with straightening knee, And whip and spur, his horse towards the sea.

XII He plunged into the waves, at last, parforce; For vainly would he shun the waters green.

Bathed are knees, paunch, and croup, till of that horse Scarcely the head above the wave is seen: Let him not hope to measure back his course, While smitten with the whip his ears between.

Woe worth him! he must founder by the way, Or into Africa his load convey.

XIII Nor p.o.o.ps nor prows does Roland more descry, For all have launched their shallops, which are wide Of that dry sh.o.r.e; while from his level eye Their hulls the tall and shifting surges hide.

He spurs his horse amid the billows high, Wholly resolved to reach the farther side.

The courser ends his swim and life in fine, Drained of his strength, and drenched brimfull of brine.

XIV He sinks, and would with him draw down his load; But that himself the madman's arms upbear: With sinewy arms and either palm he rowed, And puffed and blew the brine before; the air Breathed softly, and the water gently flowed; And well was needed weather more than fair: For if the waters yet a little rise, Whelmed by the waxing tide Orlando dies.

XV But Fortune, that of madmen is the guide, Him from the water drew near Ceuta's sh.o.r.e, Upon that beach, and of those walls as wide As twice an archer's hand could shoot at score.

For many days along the bank he hied, At hazard, ever westward hurrying sore, Until he came where on the sea-beat strand Encamped a host of blacks, a countless band.

XVI Leave we the paladin at will to stray!

To speak of him occasion will come round.

-- Sir, what befel the lady of Catay, Who scaped, in time, from him of wit unsound, And afterwards, upon her homeward way, Was with good bark and better weather bound; And how she made Medoro, India's king; Perchance some voice in happier verse may sing.

XVII To say so many things I am intent, I mean not to pursue the cavalier.

To Mandricardo my fair argument It now behoves me, in his turn, to veer He happily enjoyed, his rival spent, The beauty, left in Europe without peer, Since fair Angelica from hence had wended, And virtuous Isabel to heaven ascended.

XVIII King Mandricardo, proud that in his right His lady had adjudged the amorous suit, Enjoys not her award with full delight; Since others with him other points dispute.

By young Rogero claimed, that eagle white Of one disastrous quarrel is the root; Another moves the king of Sericana Against the Tartar king, for Durindana.

XIX Agramant and Marsilius strive in vain, With labour sore, this tangle to undo; Nor only cannot they persuade the twain In peace and concord to unite anew, But cannot make the valiant Child refrain From claiming Hector's buckler as his due; Nor yet Grada.s.so move the sword to lend, 'Till this, or till that, quarrel have an end.

XX Rogero brooks not that in other fight His shield be braced, nor will Grada.s.so bear That save against himself the Tartar knight Should wield the sword Orlando used to wear "See we, in fine, on whom the chance will light (Cries Agramant) and further words forbear.

How Fortune rules the matter let us see, And choose him that of her shall chosen be.

XXI "And -- would ye do what most would me delight, And be an obligation evermore -- You shall by casting lots decide your right: Premising, he whose lot is drawn before The other, shall upon two quarrels fight: So he who wins, on his companion's score Shall win as well as on his own; and who Loses the battle lose alike for two.

XXII "Between Rogero and Grada.s.so, we Deem there is little difference, rather none; And wot whichever shall elected be.