x.x.xII "Save they should seek to break their dungeon's bound, I grant my inmates every other pleasure.

For whatsoever in the world is found, Search its four quarters, in this keep I treasure; (Whatever heart can wish or tongue can sound) Cates, brave attire, game, sport, or mirthful measure.

My field well sown, I well had reaped my grain.

But that thy coming makes my labour vain.

x.x.xIII "Ah! then unless thy heart less beauteous be Than thy sweet face, mar not my pious care; Take my steel buckler, this I give to thee, And take that horse, which flies so fast in air, Nor meddle with my castle more; or free One or two captive friends, the rest forbear -- Or (for I crave but this) release them all, So that Rogero but remain my thrall.

x.x.xIV "Or if disposed to take him from my sight, Before the youth be into France conveyed, Be pleased to free my miserable sprite From its now rotted bark, long decayed."

"Prate as thou wilt, I shall restore the knight To liberty," replied the martial maid, "Nor offer shield and courser to resign, Which are not in thy gift, -- already mine.

x.x.xV "Nor were they thine to take or to bestow, Would it appear that such exchange were wise; Thou sayest to save him from what stars foreshow, And cheat an evil influence of the skies Rogero is confined. Thou canst not know, Or knowing, canst not change his destinies: For, if unknown an ill so near to thee, Far less mayest thou another's fate foresee.

x.x.xVI "Seek not thy death from me; for the pet.i.tion Is made in vain; but if for death thou sigh, Though the whole world refused the requisition, A soul resolved would find the means to die.

But ope thy gates to give thy guests dismission Before thine hand the knot of life untie."

So spake the scornful dame with angry mock, Speeding her captive still towards the rock.

x.x.xVII Round by the conqueror with the chain he bore, Atlantes walked, the damsel following nigh, Who trusted not to the magician h.o.a.r, Although he seemed subdued in port and eye.

Nor many paces went the pair, before They at the mountain's foot the cleft espy, With steps by which the rugged hill to round; And climb, till to the castle-gate they wound:

x.x.xVIII Atlantes from the threshold, graved by skill, With characters and wondrous signs, upturned A virtuous stone, where, underneath the sill, Pots, with perpetual fire and secret, burned.

The enchanter breaks them; and at once the hill To an inhospitable rock is turned.

Nor wall nor tower on any side is seen, As if no castle there had ever been.

x.x.xIX Then from the lady's toils the wizard clears His limbs, as thrush escapes the fowler's snare; With him as well his castle disappears, And leaves the prisoned troop in open air; From their gay lodgings, dames and cavaliers, Unhoused upon that desert, bleak and bare.

And many at the freedom felt annoy, Which dispossessed them of such life of joy.

XL There is Grada.s.so, there is Sacripant, There is Prasildo, n.o.ble cavalier, Who with Rinaldo came from the Levant; Iroldo, too, Prasildo's friend sincere.

And there, at last, the lovely Bradamant Discerns Rogero, long desired and dear; Who, when a.s.sured it was that lady, flew With joyful cheer to greet the damsel true;

XLI As her he prized before his eyes, his heart, His life; from that day cherished when she stood Uncasqued for him, and from the fight apart; And hence an arrow drank her virgin blood.

'Twere long to tell who launched the cruel dart, And how the lovers wandered in the wood; Now guided by the sun, and now benighted, Here first since that encounter reunited.

XLII Now that the stripling sees her here, and knows Alone she freed him from the wizard's nest, He deems, his bosom with such joy overflows, That he is singly fortunate and blest.

Thither, where late the damsel conquered, goes The band, descending from the mountain's crest; And finds the hippogryph, who bore the shield, But in its case of crimson silk concealed.

XLIII To take him by the rein the lady there Approached, and he stood fast till she was nigh, Then spread his pinions to the liquid air, And at short distance lit, half-mountain high: And, as she follows him with fruitless care, Not longer flight nor shorter will he try.

'Tis thus the raven, on some sandy beach, Lures on the dog, and flits beyond his reach.

XLIV Grada.s.so, Sacripant, Rogero, who With all those other knights below were met, Where'er, they hope he may return, pursue The beast, and up and down, each pa.s.s beset.

He having led those others, as he flew, Often to rocky height, and bottom wet, Among the rocks of the moist valley dropt, And at short distance from Rogero stopt.

XLV This was Atlantes the enchanter's deed, Whose pious wishes still directed were, To see Rogero from his peril freed: This was his only thought, his only care; Who for such end dispatched the winged steed, Him out of Europe by this sleight to bear.

Rogero took his bridle, but in vain; For he was restive to the guiding rein.

XLVI Now the bold youth from his Frontino flings (Frontino was his gentle courser hight) Then leaps on him who towers in air, and stings And goads his haughty heart with rowels bright.

He runs a short career; then upward springs.

And through mid ether soars a fairer flight Than hawk, from which the falconer plucks away In time the blinding hood, and points her prey.

XLVII When her Rogero the fair dame discerned, In fearful peril, soar so high a strain, She stood long s.p.a.ce amazed, ere she returned To her right judgement, and sound wits again: And what she erst of Ganymede had learned, s.n.a.t.c.hed up to heaven from his paternal reign, Feared might befall the stripling, born through air, As gentle as young Ganymede and fair.

XLVIII She on Rogero looks with stedfast eyes As long as feeble sight can serve her use; And in her mind next tracks him through the skies, When sight in vain the cherished youth pursues.

And still renewing tears, and groans, and sighs, Will not afford her sorrow peace or truce.

After the knight had vanished from her view, Her eyes she on the good Frontino threw.

XLIX And lest the courser should become the prey Of the first traveller, who pa.s.sed the glen, Him will not leave; but thence to bear away Resolves, in trust to see his lord again.

The griffin soars, nor can Rogero stay The flying courser; while, beneath his ken, Each peak and promontory sinks in guise, That he discerns not flat from mountain-rise.

L After the hippogryph has won such height, That he is lessened to a point, he bends His course for where the sun, with sinking light, When he goes round the heavenly crab, descends; And shoots through air, like well-greased bark and light, Which through the sea a wind propitious sends.

Him leave we on his way, who well shall speed, And turn we to Rinaldo in his need.

LI Day after day the good Rinaldo fares, Forced by the wind, the s.p.a.cious ocean through; Now westward borne, and now toward the Bears; For night and day the ceaseless tempest blew.

Scotland at last her dusky coast uprears, And gives the Caledonian wood to view; Which, through its shadowy groves of ancient oak, Oft echoes to the champion's st.u.r.dy stroke.

LII Through this roves many a famous cavalier, Renowned for feat in arms, of British strain; And throng from distant land, or country near, French, Norse, of German knights, a numerous train.

Let none, save he be valiant, venture here, Where, seeking glory, death may be his gain.

Here Arthur, Galahalt, and Gauvaine fought, And well Sir Launcelot and Tristram wrought.

LIII And other worthies of the table round; (Of either table, whether old or new) Whose trophies yet remain upon the ground; Proof of their valiant feats, Rinaldo true Forthwith his armour and Bayardo found, And landed on the woody coast: The crew He bade, with all the haste they might, repair To Berwick's neighbouring port, and wait him there.

LIV Without a guide or company he went Through that wide forest; choosing now this way, Now that, now other, as it might present Hope of adventurous quest or hard a.s.say: And, ere the first day's circling sun is spent, The peer is guested in an abbey gray: Which spends much wealth in harbouring those who claim Its shelter, warlike knight or wandering dame.

LV The monks and abbot to Mount Alban's peer A goodly welcome in their house accord; Who asked, but not before with savoury cheer He amply had his wearied strength restored, If in that tract, by errant cavalier, Often adventurous quest might be explored, In which a man might prove, by dangerous deed, If blame or glory were his fitting meed.

LVI They answered, in those woods he might be sure Many and strange adventures would be found; But deeds, there wrought, were, like the place, obscure, And, for the greater part, not bruited round.

"Then seek (they said) a worthier quest, secure Your works will not be buried underground.

So that the glorious act achieved, as due, Fame may your peril and your pain pursue.

LVII "And if you would your warlike worth a.s.say, Prepare the worthiest enterprize to hear, That, e'er in times of old or present day, Was undertaken by a cavalier.

Our monarch's daughter needs some friendly stay, Now sore bested, against a puissant peer: Lurcanio is the doughty baron's name, Who would bereave her both of life and fame.

LVIII "Her he before her father does pursue, Perchance yet more for hatred than for right; And vouches, to a gallery she updrew A lover, seen by him, at dead of night.

Hence death by fire will be the damsel's due, Such is our law, unless some champion fight On her behalf, and, ere a month go by, (Nigh spent) upon the accuser prove the lie.

LIX "Our impious Scottish law, severe and dread, Wills, that a woman, whether low or high Her state, who takes a man into her bed, Except her husband, for the offence shall die.

Nor is there hope of ransom for her head, Unless to her defence some warrior hie; And as her champion true, with spear and shield, Maintain her guiltless in the listed field.

LX "The king, sore grieving for Geneura bright, For such is his unhappy daughter's name, Proclaims by town and city, that the knight Who shall deliver her from death and shame, He to the royal damsel will unite, With dower, well suited to a royal dame; So that the valiant warrior who has stood In her defence, be come of gentle blood.

LXI "But if within a month no knight appear, Or coming, conquer not, the damsel dies.

A like emrpize were worthier of your spear Than wandering through these woods in lowly guise.

Besides, the eternal trophy you shall rear, You by the deed shall gain a glorious prize, The sweetest flower of all the ladies fair That betwixt Ind and Atlas' pillars are.

LXII "And you with wealth and state shall guerdoned be, So that you evermore may live content, And the king's grace, if through your means he see His honour raised anew, now well-nigh spent.

Besides, you by the laws of chivalry Are bound to venge the damsel foully shent.

For she, whose life is by such treason sought, Is chaste and spotless in the common thought."

LXIII Rinaldo mused awhile, and then replied, "And must a gentle damsel die by fire, Because she with a lover's wish complied, And quenched within her arms his fond desire?

Cursed be the law by which the dame is tried!

Cursed he who would permit a doom so dire!

Perish (such fate were just!) who cruel proves!