Title: The Orlando Innamorato
Author: Berni, Francesco, Boiardo, Matteo Maria
Language: English
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THE ORLANDO INNAMORATO



TRANSLATED INTO PROSE
FROM THE ITALIAN OF
FRANCESCO BERNI
AND
INTERSPERSED WITH EXTRACTS
IN THE SAME STANZA AS THE ORIGINAL
BY
WILLIAM STEWART ROSE



TO

HENRY RICHARD, LORD HOLLAND,
&c. &c. &c.

Who, at a late period of my labours upon the "Furioso", suggested
the present work as its necessary prologue.

Kind peer, who, mid the tempest of debate,
  Hast gladly wooed and won the Southern muse.
Where, crowned with fruit and flower of mingling hues,
  She in a grove of myrtle keeps her state.

This I had entered by a postern gate,
  Like stranger, who no certain path pursues.
Or garden's lord, that hath his own to choose,
  Hadst thou not shewn a better entrance late:

That portal led me to Morgana's* towers,
  Where fierce Orlando found the dame at play;
And though, too fast for me, from fields of flowers,
  She flies to savage waste, and will not stay.
It will content me but to paint her bowers,
If this be granted by the scornful fay.

                        William Stewart Rose.

* See the adventure of Morgana, the type of Fortune, who, flying
from her garden into a wilderness, is taken by Orlando, Book II.



INTRODUCTION.



It is many years since I first entertained a vague idea of
translating the _Orlando Furioso_, and circumstances of little
importance to the reader, led me more recently to undertake it in
earnest. This work was again laid down; and afterwards resumed at
the instance of a distinguished friend; and by an odd coincidence,
I am indebted also to the suggestion of another eminent person for
the idea of the present translation of the _Orlando Innamorato_,
which, I should observe, is intended to be auxiliary to that, my
first and greater undertaking, though I need scarcely say, that
the story of Boiardo is a necessary prologue to the poem of
Ariosto.

It was my intention to have translated the first mentioned work,
exactly upon the model adopted by Tressan in his version of the
French romances, a scheme afterwards executed with so much better
success, by my late excellent friend, Mr. George Ellis, in his
English work of the same description. A further consideration of
the subject, however, induced me to imitate them only in their
general plan of illustrating a compendious prose translation by
extracts, without seeking to add poignancy to this, by what might
give a false idea of the tone of my original. I recollected that I
stood in a very different predicament from that of either of these
authors; that, to compare my work with the one, which is most
likely to be familiar to my readers, the 'Specimens of early
English Romances,' the originals are composed in a spirit of
gravity which can hardly be confused with the gay style of the
translator, and therefore nobody can be misled by the vein of
pleasantry which runs through Mr. Ellis's work, and which is sure
to be exclusively ascribed to the author of the _Rifacimento_.
This, however, would possibly not be the case with me, as the
_Innamorato_ is in a great measure a humourous work, of which I
might give a false impression, by infusing into it a different
species of wit, from that which distinguishes it;—a
consideration which induced me to adopt the scheme I have pursued
in the following sheets.

This project is to give a mere ground-plan of the Gothic edifice
of Boiardo, upon a small scale, accompanied with some elevations
and sections of the chambers; which I have sought to colour after
my original: or, (to speak more plainly,) the reader is to look
for the mere story in my prose abridgement, while he may form some
notion of its tone and style, from the stanzas with which it is
interspersed.

The _story_ indeed, which seems most likely to interest the
English reader, is that which took a strong possession of the
imagination of Milton, who refers with more apparent enthusiasm to
the _Innamorato_, than to the _Furioso_, and whose apparent
preference is justifiable, if a richer stream of invention, and
more consummate art in its distribution, are legitimate titles to
admiration.

In this latter qualification more especially, Boiardo, however
inferior as a poet, must be considered as a superior artist to
Ariosto; and weaving as complicated a web as his successor, it is
curious to observe how much he excels him as a story-teller. The
tales, indeed, of Ariosto, (and the want of connexion among these
is, in my eyes, his most essential defect) are so many loose
episodes, which may be compared to parallel streams, flowing
towards one reservoir, but through separate and independent
channels. Those of Boiardo, on the contrary, are like waters,
that, however they may diverge, preserve their relation to the
parent river, to which their accession always seems necessary, and
with which they reunite, previous to its discharging its contents
into their common resting-place. A short example may serve to
illustrate what I have laid down. A damsel in the _Innamorato_
relates to Rinaldo the adventures of two worthies named Iroldo and
Prasildo, a narration which is interrupted, and which, though good
in itself, at first appears to be an insulated episode. Rinaldo,
however, afterwards falls in with Iroldo and his friend; and this
history, thus resumed, unites itself naturally with that of the
paladin. It is thus that all the stories are dove-tailed one into
the other, and form a mosaic, as striking from the nice union of
its parts, as from the brilliancy of its colours.

Boiardo's art, though here indeed he cannot be said to excel
Ariosto, is as conspicuous also in the direction of the strange
under-current of allegory which pervades his poem, as it is in the
distribution of his stream of story; while the sort of esoteric
doctrines conveyed by it, gives a mysterious interest even to what
we imperfectly comprehend.

Such indeed is the case with many of the fables of the Odyssey,
and even of the Iliad; where the allegory, moreover, is always
subservient to poetry, and poetry is never made subservient to
allegory. This remarkable piece of judgment in the Greek poet has,
I think, been well imitated both by Boiardo and Ariosto, and it is
the neglect of this principle which has made allegory so often
offensive in the _Faery Queene_ of Spenser. The obtrusive nature
of this has been well compared by Mr. George Ellis, in his
Specimens of the early English poets, to a ghost in day-light. It
is, moreover, destructive to all character; for Spenser's heroes
being mere abstract personifications of some virtue or vice, we
almost always know what they are to do, though their actions are
often unnatural, if considered as the actions of human beings.
Hence it is that we are never entertained with pictures of manners
in the _Faery Queen_, while these form one of the great charms of
the poems with which I am contrasting it.

It may however be said with justice, that we are to ascribe this
more picturesque effect of allegory, rather to the spirit of the
age than to that of the fabulist. For it is perhaps true that all
early fable is purely allegorical; that this is by degrees mixed
up with other circumstances, and it is in this mixed character
that it is most conducive to poetical effect. But in a later age
and later process of refinement, when there is a greater tendency
to abstract, allegory is stript of her adventitious ornaments, and
is at last forced upon us in poetry, painting, and sculpture,
unveiled, or unencompassed by that sort of pleasing halo which is
necessary to give her effect.

But whether we are to ascribe Boiardo's success in this particular
to the character of his age, or to his own superior judgment,
there is, I think, no doubt about the fact, and there is, I think,
as little difficulty in conceding to my author, upon other
grounds, the praise of skill in executing the singular work of
which he was the architect.

This extraordinary man was Matteo Maria Boiardo, count of
Scandiano, and a native of Reggio in the Modenese, who flourished
in the beginning of the sixteenth century. These are circumstances
the more worthy of mention, as some of them tend to explain what
may seem most strange in the composition of the _Innamorato_; such
as the provincial character of the diction, and more especially
that careless and almost contemptuous tone between jest and
earnest, which distinguishes his poem. It is doubtless on this
account that Ugo Foscolo observes, in an ingenious critique on the
Italian romantic poets, in the _Quarterly Review_*, that he tells
his story in the tone of a feudal baron; thus applying to him more
justly what M. de Balzac has objected to another; of whom he says,
"qu'il s'est comporté dans son poëme comme un prince dans ses
états. C'est en vertu de cette souverainté qu'il ne reconnoit
point les lois, et qu'il se met au dessus du droit commun."

* In an article purporting to be a review of _Whistlecraft's
poem_, (now entitled _The Monks and Giants_,) and _The Court and
Parliament of Beasts_.

After speaking of the mode in which he arranged his work, it is a
natural transition to the substance with which Boiardo built. This
shews strong internal evidence* of having been taken, in the main,
from the old French romances of Charlemagne, or rather from
Italian works, raised upon their foundation. Hoole mentions one of
these, called _Aspramonte_, &c., of uncertain date, and we have
the titles of two others, which were anterior to the _Innamorato_,
one called _Li fatti di Carlo Magno e dei Paladini di Francia_,
printed in 1481; the other printed in 1491, and entitled _La
Historia real di Francia, che tratta dei fatti dei Paladini e di
Carlo Magno in set libri_. Some indeed would seem to deny that
Boiardo had dug in these mines, and would wish us to believe, that
he not only compounded but manufactured the materials with which
he wrought. Such at least would appear to have been the drift of
one, who observes that Agramant, Sacripant and Gradassso were
names of certain of the vassals of Scandiano. But if he means to
insinuate by this, that Boiardo was not also indebted to the other
source for his fictions and characters, as well might a critic of
to-day, contend that the author of the _Monks and Giants_, who
writes under the name of _Whistlecraft_, had not borrowed the idea
of their cause of quarrel from Pulci, because he has given
ridiculous modern names to some of his giants; or that he had not
taken the leaders amongst his _dramatis personæ_ from the romances
of the _Round Table_, because he has conferred "two leopards'
faces," that is, his own arms, on the single knight, who perishes
in Sir Tristram's successful expedition.

* A single circumstance, which I cite, because it can be
appreciated by every body, would convince me that such stories as
are to be found in the _Innamorato_, were not the growth of
Boiardo's century. No author of that age could have imagined the
friendly ties of alliance and consanguinity between Christians and
paynims, though such fictions are justified by facts: thus we
learn from Gibbon that like relations existed between Greeks and
Turks, and (as we are informed by Mr. Lockhart, in the preface to
his _Spanish Ballads_, a work which presents a striking pictures
of manners as of passion) between Spaniards and Moors. Nor need
such things surprise us, though the barriers which now separate
Christian and Mahomedan, render them impossible. Nations are like
individuals, and when they are brought into close and constant
intercourse, of whatever kind, their passions, good or bad, must
be kindled by the contact.

But if Boiardo has apparently taken his principal fictions from
the romances of Charlemagne, he has also resorted to other known
quarries, and ransacked classical as well as romantic fable for
materials.

This edifice, so constructed, which Boiardo did not live to
finish, soon underwent alteration and repairs. The first were made
by Niccolo degli Agostini, and later in the same century a second
and more celebrated _rifacimento_ of it, from which this
translation is composed, was produced by Francesco Berni; whose
name has given a distinctive epithet to the style of poetry, in
which he excelled, and of which he is vulgarly supposed to have
been the inventor.

This man was born of poor but noble parents, in a small town of
Tuscany. He entered the church, to which he had evidently no
disposition, as a means of livelihood, and, though as unqualified
for servitude as for the discharge of his clerical duties, spent
the better part of his life in dependence. He appears, however, to
have been blessed with a vein of cheerfulness, which, seconded by
a lively imagination, enabled him to beguile the wearisome nature
of occupations, which were uncongenial to him; and of this he has
left many monuments in sonnets and pieces in _terza rima_, (styled
in Italian _capitoli_,) consisting of satires and various species
of ludicrous composition. The titles of many of these sufficiently
attest their whimsicality, such as his _Capitoli sugli Orinali,
sulle Anguille_, his _Eulogy of the Plague_, &c. &c. But the mode
in which he has handled this last subject, will give the best
insight into the character of his humour. Having premised that
different persons gave a preference to different seasons—as the
poet to the spring, and the reveller to the autumn,—he observes,
that one may well like the season of flowers, or the other that of
fruits; but that, for his part, he preferred the time of plague.
He then backs his predilection by a rehearsal of the advantages
attending this visitation; observing that a man is in such times
free from solicitations of borrowers or creditors, and safe from
disagreeable companions; that he has elbow-room at church and
market, and can then only be said to be in the full possession of
his natural liberty. He has rung all sorts of changes on this
theme, and nothing can be more humorous than his details.

These are worked up with singular powers of diction, set off by
great apparent facility of style, and are no less remarkable for
music of rythm, richness of rhyme, and a happy boldness of
expression. In this respect there is some analogy, though no
likeness, between Berni and Dryden; and the real merits of both
are therefore imperfectly estimated by foreigners, and even by the
generality of their own countrymen. Many Italians, indeed,
consider Berni as a mere buffoon, which the English reader will
think less extraordinary, when he hears (as Lord Glenbervie*
observes, I think, in his notes to Ricciardetto,) that such an
opinion has been entertained in Italy, even with regard to
Ariosto.

* I state this on Lord Glenbervie's sole authority, which is,
however, a weighty one. Such an opinion was probably current when
he first knew Italy; but I should imagine it could hardly be
entertained at present.

Better reasons may seem to palliate such a mistake of the real
poetical character of Berni, than of that of Ariosto. Some of
these are of a general description, and others of a nature more
peculiarly applicable to his case. We may observe, as to the
first, that whoever indulges his wit, in whatever species of
composition, is usually misjudged; for wit, in the sight of the
world, overlays all the other qualities of an author, in whatever
act or pursuit he may be engaged. Thus a great English painter,
single in his walk, and distinguished by his various powers, is
looked upon by the multitude as a mere caricaturist, even where
caricature is intended by him only as a foil to beauty; and
orators have for the same reason sunk into jesters in the opinion
of the mob, though they may have been equally distinguished for
argumentative discussion or pathetic effect.

But other and more particular circumstances have tended to fix
this character upon Berni. Few men have a delicate perception of
familiar expression, and still fewer yet have a nice feeling of
the delicacies of prosody,

        Untwisting all the links that tie
        The secret chain of harmony.

Now it is for the bold, however dexterous, use of language, and
rythm, that Berni is principally distinguished; and hence, as the
means through which he works are imperfectly understood by the
majority of his readers, his object has been frequently mistaken.
I should cite, in illustration of this, his description of a storm
at sea, which has been often deemed burlesque, but in which the
poet would be more justly considered as working a fine effect by
unwonted means.

Let us try this question by the rules of analogy. Men in all
countries resemble one another in the main, and where they are not
guided by a natural taste and judgment, lean upon some rule, which
is to direct them as an infallible guide. Depending upon this,
they seldom consider that it may be narrow, or of insufficient
support. Thus an Englishman who has learned to think about verse,
by the help of a few simple precepts*, which he believes to be
absolute, is taught to look upon the double rhyme as suited only
to burlesque poetry. Yet Drummond's

        "Methought desponding nightingales did borrow,
         Plaint of my plaint, and sorrow of my sorrow;"

and the description of him, who

                        "Saw with wonder,
Vast magazines of ice and piles of thunder,"**

might be cited to prove what widely different effects are produced
by the same weapon, as it is differently wielded. But, impressed
with the notions of the laws of verse which I have specified, that
is, not knowing that almost all such metrical rules as have been
alluded to, are merely conditional, some Italians***, and
certainly, almost all English readers of Italian poetry, suppose
the triple rhyme, (_la rima sdrucciola_) or dactyl, as it is
called by us, to be as exclusively applied to ludicrous
composition in Italian, as the double rhyme is imagined to be in
English; and this is perhaps one cause why some of Berni's
stanzas, which abound in triple rhymes, have been so utterly
misconceived in England. Yet Berni and Ariosto have frequently
employed the _versi sdruccioli_ where they have aimed at a bold or
pathetic effect, though they have also undoubtedly been used by
them to heighten that of comic or satirical composition. Caro the
cotemporary of Berni is even profuse of triple rhymes in his
translation of the Æneid; lyric poets, after the example of
Chiabrera, often insert them in the sublimest of their odes; and
one, who lately died full of years, managed the _rime sdrucciole_
so easily, as to compose whole poems with them, and with such
dignity, both of versification and expression, as (in the opinion
of a distinguished Italian friend already cited) to vie with Tasso
and Petrarch.

* For example, there is no rule deemed more absolute, and yet
there is none which admits more exceptions than the maxim
forbidding a line of ten monosyllables. For monosyllables, in
French and English, are often such only to the eye, such words
being frequently, in both languages, melted into each other. Hence
many good English verses consist of ten words, as that of Dryden,
which will be in the recollection of every body,

        "Arms and the man I sing, &c."

and the French cite as beautiful a line of Racine, which is
composed of twelve,

        "Lej ur n'est pas plus pur que le fond de mon cœur."

** I quote from memory.

*** Thus Goldoni in one of his comedies introduces a man
improvising in triple rhymes for the sake of producing a ludicrous
effect. Goldoni, however, (it must be confessed,) is no authority
in questions of language or of versification.

Now let a man keep such doctrines in mind; let him come to the
consideration of Berni's storm with a memory imbued with the
sights and sounds seen and heard in one; let him consider all
circumstances of metre, not absolutely, but conditionally; that
is, in their relation to each other and the thing described, and
he will then, I believe, enter into the real spirit in which the
poet executed this description, and contemplate him with very
different eyes from those with which he viewed him before.

Another cause of misconception, to which I have already alluded,
has probably more misled the mob of readers of Italian poetry,
natives as well as foreigners. I mean the language of Berni; and
as to this, certainly few very few, are capable of appreciating
his skill, or even of making out his track. There is indeed, I
believe, no poet of any country, who has attempted so difficult a
flight; a flight of unwearied wing, struck out with courage, and
maintained only by the most incessant exertion and care.

Traces of these are seen in what may be called the charts on which
he has pricked out his course, and which, I understand, witness as
much to his diligence, as Ariosto's attest the care with which he
accomplished his most extraordinary voyage. The documents to which
I allude, are the original MSS. of the _Innamorato_, preserved at
Brescia. As I was ignorant of the existence of these, during two
residences which I made in Italy, I can only speak of them on the
testimony of others; but an Italian critic, whom I have often
quoted, and from whose authority upon such points I would almost
say there was no appeal, once assured me these are as much blotted
as those of Ariosto at Ferrara; and that Berni seems to have
usually clothed his thoughts in ornate language at first, which he
rejected on after-consideration, simplifying, but at the same time
improving, his diction, as he proceeded, till he arrived at that
exquisite happiness of expression, that _curiosa felicitas_, which
makes his principal charm. It is hence that he is the most
untranslatable of authors; since in copying him, it is not only a
question of imitating colours, but the fine and more elaborate
touches of a peculiar pencil.

While, however, it is clear that the versification and diction
make the great charms of the _Innamorato_, these beauties should
not throw his other excellencies into shade; and the openings of
the different cantos, which he has engrafted on the original work
of Boiardo, sometimes original, and sometimes imitated from the
older poets, are not greatly inferior to those which Ariosto has
prefixed to the several cantos of the Furioso, in imitation of
him; no, not even in the higher claims of poetical merit.

These sometimes consist of moral reflections, arising out of the
narrative; and the following may remind the reader of one of those
little gems scattered through the plays of Shakspeare:—

        Who steals a bugle-horn, a ring, a steed,
        Or such like worthless thing, has some discretion.
        'Tis petty larceny.—Not such his deed
        Who robs us of our fame, our best possession;
        And he who takes our labour's worthiest meed,
        May well be deemed a felon by profession;
        Who so much more our hate and scourge deserves.
        As from the rule of right he wider swerves.

Sometimes indulging in a declamation against vices or follies, he
makes his satire more poignant by allusions to some prevalent
practice of the day: thus, in a sally against avarice, he attacks
those who masqued it under the disguise of hypocrisy in the
following stanza:

        This other, under show of an adviser
        And practiser of what is strict and right;
        But being in effect a rogue and miser,
        Cloisters a dozen daughters out of sight:
        And fain would have the pretty creatures wiser
        Than their frail sisters; but mistakes them quite;
        For they are like the rest, and set the group
        Of monks, and priests, and abbots, cock-a-hoop.

The following extract, illustrating a philosophical dogma of his
age, taken from the opening of the forty-sixth canto, is of
another description, and may serve as a specimen of the variety of
his vein, and the odd ingenuity with which he winds in and out of
his argument; sometimes bearing up for his harbour when in the
middle of a digression; and then, when he seems to feel himself
sure of a retreat, indulging in a new sally, in which he however
never entirely loses sight of his port.

                1.
        He who the name of little world applied
        To man, in this approved his subtle wit:
        Since, save it is not round, all things beside
        Exactly with this happy symbol fit;
        And I may say that long and deep, and wide
        And middling, good and bad, are found in it.
        Here too, the various elements combined
        Are dominant; snow, rain, and mist and wind.

                2.
        Now clear, now overcast. 'Tis there its land
        Will yield no fruit; here bears a rich supply:
        As the mixt soil is marle, or barren sand;
        And haply here too moist, or there too dry.
        Here foaming hoarse, and there with murmur bland,
        Streams glide, or torrents tumble from on high.
        Such of man's appetites convey the notion:
        Since these are infinite, and still in motion.

                3.
        Two solid dikes the invading streams repel,
        The one is Reason, arid the other Shame.
        The torrents, if above their banks they swell,
        Wit and discretion are too weak to tame.
        The crystal waters, which so smoothly well.
        Are appetites of things, devoid of blame.
        Those winds, and rains, and snows, and night, and day.
        Ye learned clerks, divine them as ye may.


                4.
        Among these elements, misfortune wills
        Our nature should have most of earth: for she.
        Moved by what influence heaven or sun instils.
        Is subject to their power; nor less are we.
        In her, this star or that, in barren hills
        Produces mines in rich variety:
        And those who human nature wisely scan
        May this discern peculiarly in man.

                5.
        Who would believe that various minerals grew,
        And many metals, in our rugged mind;
        From gold to nitre? Yet the thing is true;
        But, out, alas! the rub is how to find
        This ore. Some letters and some wealth pursue,
        Some fancy steeds, some dream, at ease reclined;
        These song delights, and those the cittern's sound,
        Such are the mines which in our world abound.

                6.
        As these are worthier, more or less, so they
        Abound with lead or gold; and practised wight,
        The various soil accustomed to survey,
        Is fitted best to find the substance bright.
        And such in our Apulia is the way
        They heal those suffering from the spider's bite;
        Who strange vagaries play, like men possessed;
        _Tarantulated_*, as 'tis there express'd.

* The Tarantula is now known to be harmless. The cause of its
supposed mischievous effects, and the efficacy of the mode of
curing them are perhaps easily explained. People are in all
countries (though they are imagined to be peculiarly so in
England) exposed to attacks of melancholy, which arise out of some
physical cause, whether indigestion, or other bodily complaint.
The doctors of Calabria attributed this to the sting of the
tarantula, which is assuredly not more extravagant than a popular
English medical author's ascribing jaundice to the bite of a mad
dog. The patient, delighted to find a cause for his complaint, was
easily, by leading questions, brought to recollect that he had, at
some time or other, felt a prick, which probably proceeded from
the sting of a tarantula. Dancing was the remedy prescribed; and
this, as exciting the animal spirits, &c. may very well have
operated a cure of the real disease. The patients were to be
played to, as Berni states, till a tune was struck which pleased
their fancy, and animated them to exertion. The Tarantella, an air
supposed to be particularly stimulating in such a case, is still a
popular dance in the south of Italy. Modern philosophers have
found out that the tarantula has no venom.

                7.
        For this, 'tis needful, touching sharp or flat.
        To seek a sound which may the patients please;
        Who, when they find the merry music pat.
        Dance till they sweat away the foul disease.
        And thus who should allure _this_ man or _that_,
        And still with various offer tempt and tease,
        I wot, in little time, would ascertain
        And sound each different mortal's mine and vein.

                8.
        'Twas so Brunello with Rogero wrought,
        Who offered him the armour and the steed.
        Thus by the cunning Greek _his_ aid was bought,
        Who laid fair Ilion smoking on the mead.
        Which was of yore in clearer numbers taught;
        Nor shall I now repeat upon my reed,
        Who from the furrow let my plough-share stray,
        Unheeding how the moments glide away.

                9.
        As the first pilot by the shore did creep,
        Who launched his boat upon the billows dark,
        And where the liquid ocean was least deep,
        And without sails impelled his humble barque;
        But seaward next, where foaming waters leap.
        By little and by little steered his ark,
        With nothing but the wind and stars to guide,
        And round about him glorious wonders spied.

                10.
        Thus I, who still have sung a humble strain,
        And kept my little barque within its bounds,
        Now find it fit to launch into the main,
        And sing the fearful warfare, which resounds
        Where Africa pours out her swarthy train,
        And the wide world with mustered troops abounds;
        And, fanning fire and forge, each land and nation
        Sends forth the dreadful note of preparation.

The next extract I shall give, though it commences with his
favourite figure of the barque, will serve as a specimen of a
different style. It forms the opening of the second book. The two
first lines the reader will trace to Dante, and will find in the
remainder a translation of the Æneadum Genetrix of Lucretius.

                1.
        Launched on a deeper sea, my pinnace, rear
        Thy sail, prepared to plough the billows dark:
        And you, ye lucid stars, by whom I steer
        My feeble vessel to its destined mark,
        Shine forth upon her course benign and clear.
        And beam propitious on the daring barque
        About to stem an ocean so profound:
        While I your praises and your works resound.

                2.
        O, holy mother of Æneas! O,
        Daughter of Jove! thou bliss of gods above
        And men beneath; VENUS, who makest grow
        Green herb and plant, and fillest all with love;
        Thou creatures that would else be cold and slow.
        Dost with thy sovereign instinct warm and move,
        Thou dost all jarring things in peace unite—
        The world's eternal spirit, life and light,

                3.
        At thine appearance storm and rain have ceased,
        And zephyr has unlocked the genial ground;
        Leap the wild herds;—'tis wanton nature's feast,—
        And the green woods with singing birds resound;
        While by strange pleasure stung, the savage beast
        Lives but for love; what time their greenwood round
        All creatures rove, or couch upon the sward.
        Discord and hate forgot, in sweet accord.

                4.
        Thee, kind and gentle star! thy suppliant prays;
        To thee I sue by every bolt which flies
        Thro' the fifth planet*, melting with thy rays.
        When panting on thy lap the godhead lies.
        And lock'd within thine arms, with upward gaze.
        Feeds on thy visage his desiring eyes:
        That thou wilt gain for me his grace, and grown
        Propitious, with _his_ grace accord thine own.

* Mars.

                5.
        Since 'tis of thee I sing, as I have said,
        And only of thy praise and pleasures dream;
        Well pleased I to this fruitful field was led,
        And sure I could not choose a sweeter theme.
        Thou too, that down thy clear and ample bed
        Dost run with grateful murmur, RAPID STREAM.
        Awhile from thine impetuous course refrain,
        While on thy banks I tune my mingled strain.

In the concluding address to the river, he apostrophizes the
Adige, on whose banks he might be said to be writing, as he was
then living in the town of Verona, which is watered by it, in the
service of the Cardinal di Bibbiena.

One more specimen of his poetical prefaces, and I have done. It is
the introduction to his third book; and in this too the reader,
who will recognize a passage of the _ars poetica_ of Horace, may
observe how well Berni translates and applies his classical
recollections.

                1.
        As they, who their unhappy task fulfil
        In mines of England, Hungary, and Spain,
        The deeper that they dig the mountain, still
        Find richer treasure and securer gain;
        And as wayfaring man who climbs a hill.
        Surveys, as he ascends, a wider plain,
        And shores and oceans open on his eye,
        Exalted nearer to the starry sky:

                2.
        So in this book, indited for your pleasure,
        If you believe and listen to my lore.
        You, in advancing, shall discern new treasure,
        And catch new lights and landscapes evermore.
        Then by no former scale my promise measure,
        Nor judge this strain by that which went before:
        Since still my caves and rugged rocks unfold
        A richer vein of jewels, pearls, and gold.

                3.
        And he who winds about my mountain's side,
        Still spies new lands and seas, a glorious sight.
        If patient industry and courage guide
        Him from the valley to the frowning height.
        Like prospect was the poet's who supplied
        Flame out of smoke, instead of smoke from light;
        With wise Ulysses' acts to fill our ears.
        To the more wonderment of him who hears.

So much for the poetry of Berni. His life was not such as
reflected any lustre on his works. This, if we reject some foul
imputations cast upon him, was, to say the least of it,
disreputable. It is, however, certain, that being at last
established in a canonry at Florence, he lived there in high and
accomplished society. This fact, however, in a profligate age,
like that in which he flourished, proves nothing in his favour;
and, if we listened to the stories of his biographers, we might
suppose him even to have been courted for some of his vicious
propensities: for one of these writers tells us he was excited by
the cardinal Ippolito de' Medici to poison the duke Alexander,
against whom he had a private pique; another, would have us
believe that he was tempted by the duke to poison the cardinal;
and (to complicate the matter yet more) that the cardinal or the
duke, or both, had poison administered to Berni himself, upon his
refusal. The dates, however, of their respective deaths, are at
variance with these strange assertions; and if such certain means
of contradiction were wanting, the internal evidence of Berni's
character, however vicious, might be almost sufficient to refute
such improbable calumnies. It may be said, indeed, that perhaps no
one was ever selected as a probable agent of guilt, who seems to
have been so little capable of engaging in the sort of crimes
which were expected of him.

As a proof of this we might almost refer to the picture which he
has given of himself, and which carries with it every warrant of
resemblance. In one of the cantos of the last book of the
_Innamorato_, he describes a number of persons as having become
the victims of a fairy, of whom they afterwards remain the
voluntary prisoners. Among these he has, in imitation of certain
painters, introduced himself with another known character of the
day: a circumstance which, together with the nature of the
episode, might lead one to suspect that Thomson was indebted to
this fiction for his _Castle of Indolence_. He has, however, given
the tenants of his "bowers of ease," a character so much more
intellectual than that of Berni's actors, that he may very fairly
pretend to the praise of original composition, even if his work be
an imitation instead of a mere accidental coincidence; which I am
more tempted to believe.* But I draw the curtain of Berni's
picture.

* I do not recollect any authority for Thomson's having been
conversant with Italian poetry; and I think that a view of his
works would lead to a contrary supposition. Thus I should say that
though no man could copy what he actually saw with a nicer hand or
eye, no man had more need of study in the Italian school of ideal
picture than this English poet. In his drawings from nature his
colouring is as inimitable as his design; and his bird, who

        "Shivers every feather with desire,"

is painted with the precision as well as the force of the Flemish
pencil. Yet he has personified Autumn as

        "_Crowned with the sickle_ and the wheaten sheaf,"

thus putting on his head what should have been in his hand, and
presenting us a ludicrous figure surmounted by a "crumpled horn."
No Italian poet would have painted from nature with Thomson's
marvellous precision; and no Italian poet would have committed
such gross offences against propriety as he has, in his imaginary
pictures.

BOOK III. CANTO VII.

                36.
        A boon companion to increase this crew
        By chance, a gentle Florentine, was led;
        A Florentine, altho' the father who
        Begot him, in the Casentine was bred;
        Who nigh become a burgher of his new
        Domicile, there was well content to wed;
        And so in Bibbiena wived, which ranks
        Among the pleasant towns on Arno's banks.

                37.
        At Lamporecchio, he of whom I write
        Was born, for dumb Masetto* fam'd of yore,
        Thence roam'd to Florence; and in piteous plight
        There sojourned till nineteen, like pilgrim poor;
        And shifted thence to Rome, with second flight
        Hoping some succour from a kinsman's store;
        A cardinal allied to him by blood.
        And one that neither did him harm nor good.

* See Boccaccio.

                38.
        He to the nephew passed, this patron dead,
        Who the same measure as his uncle meted;
        And then again in search of better bread,
        With empty bowels from his house retreated;
        And hearing, for his name and fame were spread,
        The praise of one who serv'd the pope repeated,
        And in the Roman court Datario hight,
        He hired himself to him to read and write.

                39.
        This trade the unhappy man believed he knew;
        But this belief was, like the rest, a bubble,
        Since he could never please the patron, who
        Fed him, nor ever once was out of trouble.
        The worse he did, the more he had to do,
        And only made his pain and penance double:
        And thus, with sleeves and bosom stuffed with papers,
        Wasted his wits, and lived oppressed with vapours.

                40.
        Add for his mischief (whether 'twas his little
        Merit, misfortune, or his want of skill)
        Some cures he farmed produced him not a tittle,
        And only were a source of plague and ill.
        Fire, water, storm, or devil, sacked vines and victual,
        Whether the luckless wretch would tythe or till.
        Some pensions too, which he possessed, were nought,
        And, like the rest, produced him not a groat.

                41.
        This notwithstanding, he his miseries slighted,
        Like happy man, who not too deeply feels;
        And all, but most the Roman lords, delighted,
        Content in spite of tempests, writs, or seals.
        And oftentimes, to make them mirth, recited
        Strange chapters upon urinals and eels;*
        And other mad vagaries would rehearse.
        That he had hitched. Heaven help him! into verse.

* See his _Capitoli sugli Orinali, Sulle Anquille, etc._

                42.
        His mood was choleric, and his tongue was vicious,
        But he was praised for singleness of heart;
        Not taxed as avaricious or ambitious,
        Affectionate, and frank, and void of art;
        A lover of his friends, and unsuspicious;
        But where he hated, knew no middle part;
        And men his malice by his love might rate:
        But then he was more prone to love than hate.

                43.
        To paint his person, this was thin and dry;
        Well sorting it, his legs were spare and lean;
        Broad was his visage, and his nose was high,
        While narrow was the space that was between
        His eye-brows sharp; and blue his hollow eye.
        Which for his bushy beard had not been seen,
        But that the master kept this thicket clear'd,
        At mortal war with moustache and with beard.

                44.
        No one did ever servitude detest
        Like him; though servitude was still his dole:
        Since fortune or the devil did their best
        To keep him evermore beneath controul.
        While, whatsoever was his patron's hest,
        To execute it went against his soul;
        His service would he freely yield, unasked,
        But lost all heart and hope, if he were tasked.

                45.
        Nor musick, hunting-match, nor mirthful measure,
        Nor play, nor other pastime moved him aught;
        And if 'twas true that horses gave him pleasure,
        The simple sight of them was all he sought,
        Too poor to purchase; and his only treasure
        His naked bed: his pastime to do nought
        But tumble there, and stretch his weary length,
        And so recruit his spirits and his strength,

                46.
        Worn with the trade he long was used to slave in,
        So heartless and so broken down was he;
        He deemed he could not find a readier haven,
        Or safer port from that tempestuous sea;
        Nor better cordial to recruit his craven
        And jaded spirit, when he once was free,
        Than to betake himself to bed, and do
        Nothing, and mind and matter so renew.

                47.
        On this as on an art, he would dilate.
        In good set terms, and styled his bed a vest.
        Which, as the wearer pleased, was small or great.
        And of whatever fashion liked him best;
        A simple mantle, or a robe of state;
        With that a gown of comfort and of rest:
        Since whosoever slipt his daily clothes
        For this, put off with these all worldly woes.

                48.
        He by the noise and lights and music jaded
        Of that long revel, and the tramp and tread,
        (Since every guest in his desires was aided,
        And knaves performed their will as soon as said,)
        Found out a chamber which was uninvaded.
        And bade those varlets there prepare a bed.
        Garnished with bolsters and with pillows fair,
        At its four borders, and exactly square.

                49.
        This was six yards across by mensuration,
        With sheets and curtains bleached by wave and breeze,
        With a silk quilt for farther consolation.
        And all things fitting else: tho' hard to please,
        Six souls therein had found accommodation
        But this man sighed for elbow-room and ease.
        And here as in a sea was fain to swim.
        Extending at his pleasure length and limb,

                50.
        By chance with him, to join the fairy's train,
        A Frenchman and a cook was thither brought;
        One that had served in court with little gain,
        Though he with sovereign care and cunning wrought.
        For him, prepared with sheet and counterpane.
        Another bed was, like his fellow's, sought:
        And 'twixt the two, sufficient space was seen
        For a fair table to be placed between.

                51.
        Upon this table, for the pair to dine.
        Were savoury viands piled, prepared with art;
        All ordered by this master-cook divine;
        Boiled, roast, ragouts and jellies, paste and tart:
        But soups and syrups pleased the Florentine,
        Who loathed fatigue like death, and for his part.
        Brought neither teeth nor fingers into play;
        But made two varlets feed him as he lay

                52.
        Here couchant, nothing but his head was spied,
        Sheeted and quilted to the very chin;
        And needful food a serving man supplied
        Thro' pipe of silver, placed the mouth within.
        Meantime the sluggard moved no part beside.
        Holding all motion else were shame and sin;
        And (so his spirits and his health were broke)
        Not to fatigue this organ, seldom spoke.

                53.
        The cook was master Peter hight, and he
        Had tales at will to while away the day;
        To him the Florentine: "Those fools, pardie,
        "Have little wit, who dance that endless Hay;"
        And Peter in return, "I think with thee."
        Then with some merry story backed the say;
        Swallowed a mouthful and turned round in bed;
        And so, by starts, talked, turned, and slept, and fed.

                54.
        And so the time these careless comrades cheated,
        And still, without a change, ate, drank, and slept
        Nor by the calendar their seasons meeted,
        Nor register of days or sennights kept:
        No dial told the passing hours, which fleeted,
        Nor bell was heard; nor servant overstept
        The threshold (so the pair proclaimed their will)
        To bring them tale or tidings, good or ill.

                55.
        Above all other curses, pen and ink
        Were by the Tuscan held in hate and scorn;
        Who, worse than any loathsome sight or stink.
        Detested pen and paper, ink and horn:
        So deeply did a deadly venom sink.
        So festered in his flesh a rankling thorn;
        While, night and day, with heart and garments rent.
        Seven weary years the wretch in writing spent.

                56.
        Of all their ways to baffle time and tide,
        This seems the strangest of their waking dreams:
        Couched on their back, the two the rafters eyed,
        And taxed their drowsy wits to count the beams;
        'Tis thus they mark at leisure, which is wide.
        Which short, or which of due proportion seems;
        And which worm-eaten are, and which are sound,
        And if the total sum is odd or round.*

* I have already given a loose translation of this part of Berni's
account of himself in the _Court of Beasts_.

Having in the preceding part of this introduction, given some
account of the mode in which I have executed my task as a
translator, it may be expected that I should give some information
respecting my labours as an editor. To speak frankly, I have none
to give: having annexed no commentary, or, at least, nothing
worthy of being called a commentary, to this work. Some readers
may, perhaps, think I have in this neglected my duty, and reproach
me with not having pointed out the sources from which many of the
fictions in the _Innamorato_ are borrowed, or at least the points
of resemblance which may be found between many of these and other
ancient stories. It appeared, however, to me, that my readers were
as likely as myself to be conversant with incidents to be found in
the _Spectator_, _Persian Tales_, _Arabian Nights_, and
_Bibliothèque Orientale_. Others who will, perhaps, thank me for
sparing them such a display of common-place knowledge may,
however, think I have erred in having done nothing to illustrate
the allegory of the _Innamorato_. If I have not, the omission has
arisen from a conviction of the inutility of such an attempt. I
have read much that has been written upon the allegory of the
_Furioso_, yet never met with any explanation of it, which I
considered as satisfactory to myself, though I was persuaded that
the commentators were right. Holding obscurity to be one source of
the sublime in this branch of imagination, though I will not
venture to extend the position further, it appears to me that the
reader always best fills up an indistinct outline, according to
his own fancy, and is more likely to derive pleasure from doing
so, than from a solution which usually presents him with something
very different from what he had preconceived. It is this
consideration which has restrained me from doing more than
throwing out a few ideas which suggested themselves on some parts
of Boiardo's allegory, and no wish to avoid any trouble which I
might have thought satisfactorily bestowed on it. Still less have
I been influenced by any fear of that ridicule which is so readily
discharged upon Italian commentators, or those who report their
lucubrations; for I can safely say, that I should have pursued the
research to which I have alluded, if I had thought I could have
done so with any satisfaction to myself, though I had met with no
better recompence than that of being compared to the ass who
carried off the dead body of the sphynx, after her enigma had been
unriddled, and she herself slain by Œdipus.


THE ORLANDO INNAMORATO.
BOOK I.
ARGUMENT.

Gradasso, king of Sericane, meditates the invasion of France, in
order to obtain Bayardo and Durindana. In the mean time
Charlemagne is holding a court plenar at Paris; where the
appearance of Angelica excites much confusion amid the assembled
knights. She returns towards her own kingdom, pursued by Orlando
and Rinaldo. Rinaldo having, however, drunk of the waters of
Disdain, while she has unfortunately tasted those of Love, is
seized with loathing for the damsel, and is, in his turn, followed
in vain by her, whom he before pursued. He is now sent by
Charlemagne in defence of Marsilius, king of Spain, whose
territories were invaded by Gradasso, in his progress towards
France. He is here separated from his army by a device of
Malagigi, his own brother, who is become the tool of Angelica, and
his troops, left without their leader, return home. Marsilius, in
consequence of this desertion, buys peace of Gradasso, by
assisting him in his invasion of France. Here Charlemagne and his
paladins are made prisoners in a thorough rout of the Christian
army. Gradasso, however, offers him peace and liberty for himself
and followers, on the delivery of Bayardo, who had been brought
back from Spain by the French troops, and on his promise to send
him Durindana as soon as it is in his power. Charlemagne of course
consents, and sends to Paris for the horse. This is, however,
refused by Astolpho, who had taken upon himself the government of
the city, and who sends a defiance to Gradasso. They meet, and the
Indian king is unhorsed, who, in compliance with the conditions of
a previous agreement, frees his prisoners and returns to Sericana.
Astolpho, too, dissatisfied with the conduct of Charlemagne,
departs from France. He now enrolls himself amongst the defenders
of Angelica, besieged by Agrican in Albracca, in which warfare he
is made prisoner; Orlando, with other puissant knights, takes the
same side, and slays Agrican in single combat. On the other part,
Rinaldo (whose hatred to Angelica equals his former love) joins
the camp of the besiegers, and a desperate battle is fought
between him and Orlando. Angelica, however, still enamoured of
Rinaldo, separates them and dispatches Orlando upon a perilous
quest. Many other adventures are achieved by these and other
knights, and many episodes are connected with the two principal
actions of the book, viz. the invasion of France, and the war
before Albracca.


BOOK I.

The story says that there reigned formerly in parts beyond India,
a mighty monarch, who was moreover so valiant and powerful in war
that no one could stand against him; he was named Gradasso; he had
the face and heart of a dragon, and was in stature a giant. But,
as it often happens to the greatest and to the richest, to long
for what they cannot have, and thus to lose what they already
possess, this king could not rest content without Durindana the
sword of Orlando, and Bayardo the horse of Rinaldo. To obtain
which, he determined to war upon France, and for this expedition
chose one hundred and fifty thousand horsemen.

But the author suspends the further mention of this monarch, of
whom we shall soon again hear, to speak of Charlemagne, who had
ordered magnificent jousts, and summoned thither all and singular
his barons. And to this court plenar, besides his paladins, and
greater and lesser vassals of the crown, were bid all strangers,
baptized or infidel, then sojourning at Paris. Amongst the guests
were the giant Grandonio, Ferrau, the king Balugantes, a relation
of Charlemagne, Isolier and Serpentin, who were companions, and
many others.

And now was the day when the great festival was to begin with a
sumptuous banquet, made by Charlemagne, who assisted at it in his
royal robes, and entertained, between Christians and Pagans,
twenty-two thousand and thirty guests.

The tables, spread right and left, were ordered with due
discrimination. At the first were seated the kings of Christendom,
an English, a Lombard, and a Breton to wit, Otho, Desiderius, and
Salamon: and next these all others, according to their dignity and
the esteem in which they were held. At the second table were
placed the dukes and marquisses; and at the third, the counts and
simple knights. Those of the house of Maganza were especially
honoured, and above all the others, Gano of Poictiers. Rinaldo saw
this with eyes of fire; the more so that these traitors, laughing
amongst themselves, were mocking him as not equally
distinguished by the king. Accordingly we are told:

        Yet while his heart with smothered fury beats,
        He feigns to trifle with the cups and glasses:
        But, inly murmuring, to himself repeats
        "False, ribald crew! before to-morrow passes,
        "This arm shall prove if you can keep your seats;
        "Spawn of a nest of vipers, idiots, asses!
        "And well I wot to have you on the hip,
        "Unless my weapon swerve, or courser slip."

        King Balugantes marked his discontent,
        And reading, as he weened, his secret thought,
        To him his trucheman with a message sent.
        To wot if it was true, as he was taught.
        That honour, not by worth and wisdom went,
        But in this Christian court was sold and bought:
        That he a stranger and a Turk, if true,
        Might render each and all the honour due.

        The good Rinaldo smiled, and to the sable
        Reporter of the royal message said,—
        "To solve the question, as I best am able,
        "(If I in rules of court am rightly read,)
        "Honour and place to glutton at the table
        "Are duly yielded, as to dame in bed;
        "But in the field, where warriors spur their steeds,
        "The worth of man is measured by his deeds."

While this conversation is passing, music sounds; the meats are
served up, and the feast is commenced with all the pomp and
circumstance of chivalric magnificence.

In the middle of this their merriment, four giants enter the
further end of the hall, having between them a damsel of
incomparable beauty, attended by a single knight. Many ladies
(some of whose names are specified) were seated at the different
tables: but all were outshone by the beautiful stranger. The
Christians, lords or simple knights, swarm about the damsel, and
every Pagan is in an instant on his feet. She smiles upon all; but
forthwith addresses herself to Charlemagne. After a complimentary
preface,

"Sir King," said the damsel, "before I show the motive which has
brought us hither, learn that this knight is my brother Uberto,
and that I am his sister, Angelica; both of us banished without
reason from the paternal mansion. Upon the Tanais, where we dwelt,
two hundred days' journey from hence, news were brought us of
this feast; and we have traversed so many provinces to see your
magnificence, and, if possible, to gain the wreath of roses, which
is said to be the guerdon of the jousts.

"For this purpose, my brother awaits all comers, Christian or
Saracen, at the stair of Merlin*; it being premised that the war
is to be conducted on the following conditions: Whoever is
unseated in the tilt, shall be allowed no further course or trial,
but remain the prisoner of him by whom he was unhorsed: while
whoever flings my brother shall have me for his reward; and Uberto
shall depart with his giants."

* It may be observed, that the abode of Merlin and the tomb of
Merlin are always placed by the first romancers, to wit, those of
the Round Table, in Britain; and their constantly laying their
scene in our island, and choosing their actors from thence, has
led M. de la Rue, and after him, Mr. George Ellis, to suppose that
these earliest romancers were subjects of English kings, who wrote
for the amusement of their court, the language of which was
Norman. The romancers, however, who celebrated Charlemagne, and
who were doubtless French, very naturally chose their heroes from
France, and transferred the scene to that country. To these, I
have already said, that Boiardo and Ariosto arc mainly indebted
for their fictions.

She remains kneeling awhile before Charles, as waiting his answer.
All behold the damsel in mute admiration; but, above all, Orlando,
approaching her with downcast eyes, gives the first signs of the
passion which was destined to be his ruin. While Orlando is thus
love-stricken, he is not single in his folly; and even the grey-haired
Namus, and Charles himself, participate in it. But, while
these and all the rest gaze upon her in silence, Ferrau is so
transported with passion as to be about to snatch her up in his
arms, and transport her away from the presence. Respect for
Charlemagne, however, restrains him. While this is passing,
Malagigi, brother to Rinaldo, a puissant magician, closely
observes the strangers, and reads in them some mysterious purpose,
different from what they pretended to be the object of their
expedition. Charlemagne had now recovered from his embarrassment
sufficiently to speak, and plied Angelica with different subjects
of discourse, for the purpose of detaining her; but at length, not
being able to prolong the interview with decency, gave her a
dismissal by according the request.

The damsel has scarce left the city, when Malagigi

        Still fearing for the king, and full of care.
        Flies to his book, retiring from the revel,
        To know the secret purpose of the pair,
        And at what aim the knight and damsel level.
        He reads; and, as he reads, in upper air
        Is heard a voice, and next appears a devil,
        Who bids, in haughty tone, the wise magician
        Proclaim his will, and give him his dismission.

Malagigi having proposed his questions, the fiend informs him that
Angelica is an enemy come to put a notable scorn upon Charlemagne,
and that her father, who is an ancient Indian king, called
Galaphron, of Catay, has dispatched her for this object,
accompanied by her brother, Argalia, and not Uberto, as she
falsely designated him: that she is full of malice, and read in
every sort of magic, whilst her brother is as valiant in arms,
gifted with a courser of marvellous swiftness, and armed with an
enchanted lance: the virtue of this is such, that no knight (no,
not even Orlando or Rinaldo) could resist its push; nor are his
other arms inferior to his spear. To this; he has received from
his father a ring, which, when on the finger, makes enchantment of
no effect, and when placed between the lips renders the wearer
invisible. Galaphron, it is added, reckons much upon these gifts,
but yet more upon the beauty of his daughter. Hence he has
dispatched Argalia with the damsel, in trust, that she shall
entice the Paladins into duel with her brother, who, unhorsing
them, will send them prisoners to Catay. Malagigi is much
disturbed at the devil's news, and determines to seek the damsel
in person, and frustrate her design. Argalia was already reposing
himself under a fair pavilion, pitched near the stair of Merlin,
while

        Angelica beneath a pine was sleeping,
        Her long light tresses scattered on the grass,
        Beside a limpid font, whose waters, leaping,
        Fell back into a pool as clear as glass.
        A giant had the damsel in his keeping.
        Who might for a reposing angel pass.
        Her brother's ring the sleeping lady wore.
        Whose hidden virtues were described before.

        False Malagigi, borne on fiendish steed,
        Meantime through fields of air in silence swept
        And now, dismounting on the flow'ry mead,
        Approached the weary damsel where she slept.
        By that grim giant watched, who, for her need.
        Good guard upon the sleeping lady kept,
        While others of her following paced the sward.
        And (such their charge) kept wider watch and ward.

The necromancer smiles at seeing the whole party, as it were,
delivered over into his hands, and opens his books for the purpose
of beginning his operations. Whilst he reads, a heavy slumber
falls upon the watchers; and, having drawn his sword, (for he was
a belted knight,) he approaches the princess with the intention of
putting her to death. He yields, however, to the enchantment of
beauty, and determines to make a different use of the opportunity.
Not aware that the enchanted ring was on her finger, which she had
accidentally received from Argalia, he conceives he has rendered
her sleep as fast as that of her followers, and clasps her in his
arms; but the ring, which is proof against all spells, does its
duty. Angelica wakes with a shriek, and Argalia rushes to her
assistance. Being unprovided with other weapon, he avenges the
insult offered to his sister with a cudgel; but as he is bruising
the unfortunate Malagigi, Angelica cries to him to bind the
ravisher fast, while she holds him; as he is a potent necromancer,
who, but for the assistance of the ring, would laugh at chains.
Argalia runs immediately to wake the giant, but finding, after
some time, that this was a fruitless attempt, he himself binds
Malagigi, hands and feet. The damsel this while possesses herself
of the magician's book, and having evoked his fiends, bids them
convey her prisoner instantly to King Galaphron, and inform him
that her project goes well, since she has mastered the only enemy
whom she had reason to fear. Malagigi is confined by Galaphron, in
a dungeon under the sea. In the mean time, Angelica dissolves the
enchanted sleep of her followers.

While these things are going on, all is uproar at Paris, since
Orlando insists upon being the first to try the adventure at the
stair of Merlin. This is resented by the other pretenders to
Angelica, and all contest his right to the precedency. The tumult
is stilled by the usual expedient of casting lots, and the first
prize is drawn by Astolpho. Ferrau has the second, and the giant
Grandonio the third. Next to these came Berlinghier and Otho, then
Charles himself, and (as his ill fortune would have it), after
thirty more, the indignant Orlando.

The character of the holder of the first lot is now developed, who
is to play a considerable part in the romance.

        Astolpho, who the winning ticket bore,
        Was nimble, and with youthful beauty blest;
        And, for these gentle gifts, was prized before
        Christian or Pagan princes, east or west;
        With that, was rich, and full of courteous lore.
        And always loved to go in gilded vest!
        One only fault the prince's pride might humble;
        Sir Turpin tells us he was given to tumble.

Astolpho goes forth upon his adventure with great gaiety of dress
and manner, and Argalia and he encounter, after having with much
courtesy renewed the engagements, which were before specified as
regulating the duel. They engage; when Astolpho is immediately
tilted out of his saddle. His rage and surprise are excessive; but
his painful feelings receive some relief from the kindness of
Angelica, who, moved to compassion for his misfortune, and
somewhat touched by his gallantry and grace, grants him the
liberty of the pavilion; where he is treated with every sort of
kindness and respect. Here he is assigned a magnificent bed; the
others retreat to _their_ couches, and thus passes the night.

The sleepers are awakened at dawn by Ferrau's bugle, who, as next
upon the list, claims the second course. Argalia goes forth to
meet him, clad in his enchanted arms, and mounted on his horse
Rabican, who is described as blacker than a crow, save that three
of his legs were pie-balled, and that his forehead was marked with
a star.

Ferrau undergoes the fate of Astolpho; but when unhorsed, refuses
to abide, like him, the established conditions, and springing upon
his feet, in despite of the protest of Argalia, renews the battle
with his sword. Argalia's giants now rush between the combatants,
and attack him; their master, however, in courtesy, retires from
such unequal fray, and stands apart till his giants are
overthrown. He then renews the contest, and Astolpho, who had been
waked by the disturbance, in vain seeks to allay it. Ferrau says
that he is no vassal of Charles's, and therefore is not bound by
any pact respecting the duel, which he may have made with
Angelica: and that he is resolved to win her and wear her. In
answer to the observation of Argalia, that he is without a helmet,
which had been beat off and broken by the golden lance, he
observes, that without one, he is a fair match for his opposite.

This dispute had been carried on by the combatants on foot, but
they now remount in order to decide it on horseback, when Argalia
in his fury forgets his lance, which he has left leaning against a
pine. Many blows had been given and taken without effect, when the
two knights paused in mutual astonishment, and Argalia informed
Ferrau that his efforts were fruitless, as his armour was
enchanted; a communication which Ferrau repaid by observing that
his skin was invulnerable with the exception of one side. The
recital of these gifts, which produces a sort of reciprocal
respect, leads them to a further parley; in which Argalia agrees
to give Ferrau Angelica to wife, provided she consents to the
arrangement. But Angelica, who is startled by Ferrau's ugliness
and fierceness, and more especially by his ill-shaped head and
black hair, her favour being especially set upon a light-haired
lover, entreats her brother, rather than sacrifice her to such a
man, to renew his battle which had been suspended, while she
transports herself by magic to Catay; she then observes he may
watch his opportunity, to escape and follow her to the wood of
Arden, where she will wait his arrival.

He, in consequence, communicates to Ferrau the refusal of his
sister. The battle is renewed; and upon its renewal, Angelica
disappears. She is soon followed by Argalia, who turns his back
upon his adversary. Ferrau pursues, but sees no traces either of
the damsel or the knight. In the meantime Astolpho, who finds
himself at liberty, puts on his armour, and his own lance having
been splintered in the joust, takes, unconscious of its virtues,
that of Argalia, which was left leaning against the pine.
Returning home, he meets Rinaldo, who had wandered out to the
wood, to learn the fortune of Ferrau. He, too, hearing of the
disappearance of Angelica, gallops away in pursuit, while Astolpho
continues his road to Paris.

Here Orlando seeks him, and learns all that has passed. Distracted
with the news, and, above all, jealous of Rinaldo, he too, waits,
only till evening to join in the pursuit; when he makes his secret
sally, and rides towards the wood of Arden. Thus, three champions,
to wit, Ferrau, Rinaldo, and Orlando are entered in the chase.

This, while Charlemagne is proceeding in his preparations for the
tournament, the prize of which was to be the _Crown of Roses_.
Many fair feats had already been wrought, and the knights are in
the heat of the jousts, when Astolpho pricks forth into the
medley*; but his courser falls with him and dislocates his foot.
All regret this accident of the English prince, who is carried to
his palace where his foot is set. The jousts are continued by the
others, from whom Grandonio the giant bears away the honours of
the field, wounding and unhorsing knights on all sides. In the
meantime,

* Mischia, melée.

        Astolpho was return'd into the square,
        His single faulchion to his girdle tied,
        And rode in gallant guise an ambling mare,
        Unarm'd and weaponless in all beside:
        And laugh'd and loiter'd with the ladies there,
        And jested with the circle far and wide:
        While he thus idly chatted, Gryphon fell,
        Thrust by Grandonio from his lofty sell.

All who contend with Grandonio suffer the same destiny; while the
outrageous Pagan overwhelms Charles and his paladins with
invective. On the other hand, Charles vents threats and
imprecations upon the absent Orlando, Rinaldo, and Gano,
expressing at the same time his earnest desire to be revenged upon
the Saracens.

Astolpho, hearing this, retreats, unobserved, to his palace, arms
himself at all points and reappears amongst the combatants; not,
as the author observes, that he expects to do himself much honour;
in which opinion he seems to have agreed with the multitude who
hailed his entrance with smiles and whispers, but with the
intention of doing his duty to his lord, and leaving the event to
Heaven. Accordingly

        Firm on his prancing steed, he louted low
        In graceful act, and "Know, Sir King," he cried,
        "I come to venge thee of thy Pagan foe,
        "Knowing that thou such wish hast signified."
        As one whose mood was still fastidious; "Go,
        "Go in the name of God;" King Charles replied:
        Then, turning to the lords that hemm'd his seat;
        "There lack'd but this to make our shame complete."

Astolpho, thus dismissed, pours a volley of abuse upon Grandonio,
and tilts at him in fury. The golden lance works an unexpected
miracle, and the giant tumbles like a tower that is undermined.
King Charlemagne and all are in amazement, while Astolpho, though
no less surprized at his own prowess, pursues his fortune, and
clears the field. These events were immediately recounted to Gan,
who was in his own house, and who, having armed a party of his
kinsmen and retainers, comes before the king, and alleges some
frivolous pretext for his tardy appearance; which, whether
believed or not, is accepted by the sovereign. He now sends a
message to Astolpho, proposing to close the tournament, as the
paynims are defeated. To which the English prince replies, 'that
he considers him every whit as false a Pagan as the others,' and
immediately attacks him with his lance. Gan, Pinabello and all
their household are unhorsed; but while Astolpho is in full
career, a traitor assails him from behind, and bears him to the
ground. He rises in fury, tilts at friends and foes, and outrages
all, king Charlemagne among the rest; by whose order he is at last
surrounded, mastered, and carried off to prison.

He was here ill bested, yet not so ill, says the author, as the
other three, who suffered the pains of love for Angelica. These
all arrived by different roads, and at different times in the wood
of Arden. The first comer was Rinaldo; who, penetrating into the
forest, beheld a beautiful fountain in the shade.

        The alabaster vase was wrought with gold,
        And the white ground o'erlaid with curious care;
        While he who look'd within it, might behold
        Green grove, and flowers, and meadow, pictur'd there.
        Wise Merlin made it, it is said, of old.
        For Tristan when he sigh'd for Yseult fair:
        That drinking of its wave, he might forego
        The peerless damsel, and forget his woe.

        But he to his misfortune never found
        That fountain, built beneath the green-wood tree;
        Altho' the warrior pac'd a weary round,
        Encompassing the world by land and sea.
        The waves which in the magic bason bound.
        Make _him_ unlove who loves. Nor only he
        Foregoes his former love; but that, which late
        Was his chief pride and pleasure, has in hate.

        Mount Alban's lord, whose strength and spirits sink,
        For yet the sun was high and passing hot,
        Stood gazing on the pearly fountain's brink,
        Rapt with the sight of that delicious spot.
        At length he can no more; but stoops to drink,
        And thirst and love are in the draught forgot:
        For such the virtue those cold streams impart.
        Changed in an instant is the warrior's heart.

        Him, with that forest's wonders unacquainted,
        Some paces to a second water bring,
        Of chrystal wave with rain or soil untainted.
        With all the flowers that wreathe the brows of spring
        Kind nature had the verdant margin painted:
        And there a pine and beech and olive fling
        Their boughs above the stream, and form a bower,
        A grateful shelter from the noontide hour.

        This was the stream of love, upon whose shore
        He chanced, where Merlin no enchantments shed;
        But nature here, unchanged by magic lore,
        The fountain with such sovereign virtue fed,
        That all who tasted loved: whence many, sore
        Lamenting their mistake, were ill-bested.
        Rinaldo wandered to this water's brink,
        But, sated, had no further wish to drink.

        Yet the delicious trees and banks produce
        Desire to try the grateful shade; and needing
        Repose, he 'lights, and turns his courser loose,
        Who roam'd the forest, at his pleasure feeding;
        And there Rinaldo cast him down, at truce
        With care; and slumber to repose succeeding,
        Thus slept supine: when spiteful fortune brought
        Her* to the spot whom least the warrior sought.

* Angelica.

        She thirsts, and lightly leaping from her steed,
        Ties the gay palfrey to the lofty pine;
        Then plucking from the stream a little reed.
        Sips, as a man might savour muscat wine;
        And feels while yet she drinks (such marvel breed
        The waters fraught with properties divine)
        She is no longer what she was before;
        And next beholds the sleeper on the shore.

Enamoured of the slumbering knight, she hesitates long between
love and shame, but, at length, no longer mistress of herself,
pulls a handful of flowers, and flings them in his face. The
gallantry is lost upon Rinaldo; who wakes, and flies from her with
loathing. She pursues, and entreats his compassion in vain; and,
at length, wearied with the chace, sinks down upon the turf, and
weeps herself asleep. Ferrau now arrives in the forest, in the
hope of finding Angelica, or wreaking his vengeance upon her
brother. Occupied with these thoughts he lights upon Argalia; who,
having followed his sister, had dismounted, and was also sleeping
under a tree. Ferrau unties the sleeper's horse, and drives him
into the thicket. His adversary's means of escape thus
intercepted, he watches till the sleeping man should wake; nor is
his patience put to a long trial. Argalia soon opens his eyes, and
is in great distress at finding his horse gone; but Ferrau, who is
as quickly on his feet, tells him not to think of his loss; as one
of them must not quit the place alive, and his own horse will
remain the prize of the survivor.

The two warriors now again engage in battle, and closing, Ferrau,
through a chink in his armour, strikes Argalia to the heart.
Argalia sinks beneath the blow, and dying entreats his adversary
to have regard to his honor, and cast him and his armour into the
river; that his memory may not be disgraced by the knowledge of
his having been vanquished in enchanted arms. Ferrau, who
compassionates his fate, promises compliance, with the reservation
of wearing his helmet till he can provide himself with another.
Argalia consents by a sign, and soon after expires.

Ferrau, who had waited by him till he drew his last sigh, now puts
on the helmet, which he had previously taken from his wounded
adversary's head in order to give him air; and having razed off
the crest, places it upon his own. He then, with the dead body
under his arm, having remounted his horse, proceeds sadly towards
the neighbouring river, into which he casts Argalia, all armed as
he was, conformably to his dying request. He then pursues his
melancholy way through the wood.

This while Orlando had arrived on this theatre of adventures, and
comes suddenly upon Angelica, who is described as sleeping in act
so exquisitely graceful, that he gazes on the vision in stupid
wonderment, and, at last, to contemplate her more closely, throws
himself down by her side.

Ferrau arrives at this juncture, and supposing Orlando, whom he
had not recognized, to be Angelica's guard, insults and defies
him. The paladin starts up and declares himself; when Ferrau,
though somewhat surprized, making a virtue of necessity, stands to
his arms. A desperate duel follows: during this Angelica wakes and
flies: Orlando proposes a truce to his adversary, that he may
follow her; but Ferrau, whose courage was now up, tells him she
shall be the prize of the conqueror, and refuses. The battle is
therefore renewed with more fury than before. The author here
exclaims:—

        Gifted with odd half lights, I often wonder
        How I should think of love; if well or ill.
        For whether 'tis a thing above, or under
        The rule of reason, foils my little skill;
        If we go guided by some god, or blunder
        Into the snare, which warps our better will;
        If we by line and rule our actions measure.
        And 'tis a thing we take or leave at pleasure.

        When we behold two bulls each other tear,
        A cow the cause of strife, with mutual wound,
        It looks as if such foolish fury were
        In nature and controlling instinct found:
        But when we see that absence, prudence, care
        And occupation, can preserve us sound
        From such a charm, or, if you will, infection;
        Love seems to be the fruit of pure election.

        Of this so many men have sung and told,
        In Hebrew, Latin, and in heathen Greek,
        In Egypt, Athens, and in Rome, of old,
        Who govern'd by such different judgments speak,
        That I can ill decide with whom to hold.
        And cannot waste my time the truth to seek.
        Let it suffice, that Love's a wayward god:
        And so heav'n keep us from the tyrant's rod!

The truth of these reflections the author considers as strikingly
exemplified by the combat between the champions, which is
interrupted by the appearance of a strange damsel upon a panting
palfrey, who clamours eagerly for Ferrau. She, perceiving him,
entreats Orlando to forbear his blows; which he immediately does
upon the damsel's request. Addressing herself to the paynim, she
informs him that she is his relation Flordespina, and dispatched
in search of him, to say that Gradasso king of Sericane, a fiend
incarnate, has invaded the Spanish dominions; that king Falsiron
is taken, Valencia ravaged, Arragon destroyed, and Barcelona
besieged; that poor Marsilius is broken down by so many
calamities, and that his last, hopes rest on him, in pursuit of
whom she was wandering. Ferrau balances for a moment between love
and duty, but at length determines to suspend his combat, with the
permission of Orlando, who agrees to the proposal, and who himself
follows Angelica. Ferrau, on the other hand, departs with
Flordespina for Spain. The author here leaves each to pursue his
separate quest, and returns to Charles. This monarch calls a
council in consequence of intelligence received, which was similar
to that brought by Flordespina to Ferrau. He observes in this
council, that Marsilius is his neighbour and relation, and is yet
more entitled to succour from a consideration of common danger;
and in consequence, with the consent of his peers, dispatches
Rinaldo with a great charge of men at arms against Gradasso, who
had crossed the streights of Gibraltar into Spain. He at the same
time constitutes Rinaldo lieutenant of his southern provinces, who
departs for the seat of war; and all the knights present at the
tournament assemble under his banner. His coming, as well as that
of Ferrau, (now arrived) is highly gratifying to Marsilius, who
had sheltered himself in Gerona. The greatest part of Spain (as
stated) had been already sacked, and all the Spanish warriors
(with the exception of Ferrau) who had returned to the defence of
their country, were killed, or prisoners. Even the giant-king,
Grandonio, who we lately saw braving Charlemagne and all his
peerage, had sought refuge in Barcelona. Marsilius, on the arrival
of the French succours, now marches to his relief. The banners of
the allied army are no sooner distinguished by Gradasso, where he
lay camped, and served by giant-kings, than he issues extravagant
orders to his various vassals. Four of these he dispatches with
their followers against Barcelona, with orders not leave a soul
alive in that city, with the exception of Grandonio, whom he
wishes (as he says) to take alive, that he may bait him with his
dogs. Others are sent forth, with orders to take or destroy the
most distinguished amongst the captains of the confederates. This
last command is given to Faraldo, king of Arabia, who is enjoined
to bring him Rinaldo and the banner of Charlemagne, which, it
seems, was also one of the principal objects of his expedition.

The battle now rages in the field, and within the city of
Barcelona, in which the army of Gradasso had previously made
lodgements. While the warfare within the town is still doubtful,
the bands dispatched against the confederates under Rinaldo, are,
after a long contest, defeated; and one of the surviving giant-kings
reports their discomfiture to Gradasso, who immediately arms
and goes forth against the conquerors. His first object of attack
is Rinaldo; but Bayardo, startled by the appearance of the Alfana,
a monstrous mare, on which Gradasso rode, made a leap of twenty
feet into the air, and thus evaded the charge. Gradasso, though
somewhat surprized, gallops on, and unhorses many of the best
amongst the confederates, who are immediately taken and bound by
Alfrera, one of his giant-kings, who serves him as a lacquey.

Rinaldo now wheels Bayardo round, and spurs him at Gradasso; and
both charge with such fury, that the Alfana and Bayardo crumble
under their riders, who, however, preserve their seats. Gradasso,
who first recollects himself, gives immediate orders to Alfrera,
who was following him upon a camelopard, to secure Rinaldo and his
horse; and according to his practice, himself follows up the
pursuit of the confederates.

Alfrera has, however, a more difficult task assigned him than
Gradasso had imagined; for Bayardo, having regained his feet,
bears away his rider, who was not yet himself. The paladin,
however, waking from his short stupor, rides again in chase of
Gradasso, himself pursued in vain by the giant Alfrera.

Rinaldo charges Gradasso just as he has unhorsed his brother
Alardo, and discharges a furious stroke upon his head. Gradasso
repays the greeting in a way that would have ended the strife, but
for Mambrino's helmet, which saved the knight from any worse evil
than a concussion of the brain; while Bayardo again galloped away
with him in a state of half stupefaction. Recovering himself a
second time, and full of shame and fury, he returns to seek
Gradasso, and the combat is renewed with more equality than was
promised by its commencement; Rinaldo, counterbalancing the
strength of his opposite, by his own superior dexterity, and the
quickness and docility of Bayardo. The combatants are, however,
separated, and borne asunder by the tide of battle. After
different adventures, they yet again meet, when Gradasso observing
that Rinaldo is surrounded by the troops of Sericane, courteously
proposes that their duel should be deferred till the succeeding
day, to be fought under the following conditions, by both
combatants on foot: "If Rinaldo conquers, he is to have back all
the prisoners made by Gradasso; and if Gradasso wins the day, he
is to have Bayardo for his prize; but is in either case to return
home, and never more set foot in Europe." Rinaldo willingly
accedes to this, and a place is fixed on, near the sea, for the
combat, to which both are to come, with no other than defensive
armour and their swords. But the author, while the barriers are
preparing, returns to Angelica, who, being returned to India,
determines on setting Malagigi at liberty, and making him her
mediator with the disdainful knight. She accordingly frees him
from his dungeon, unlocks his fetters with her own hand, and bids
him in return to unloosen her own. She then returns him his book,
explains herself more precisely, and promises him final liberty,
on condition of his bringing back Rinaldo.

Malagigi calls up a demon with the aid of his book, mounts him and
departs. He is entertained, during his journey, with a relation of
Gradasso's enterprise, by the devil; who told him, as the author
observes, "all that had chanced, and indeed more, which was so
much the easier, in that he lied." Malagigi arrived at his
destination, finds Rinaldo rejoiced to see him, but immoveable on
the subject of Angelica; and hence, after many fruitless
endeavours, vanishes with a threat. Having reached a spot
convenient for his incantations, he opens his book, calls up a
legion of demons, and from these, selects Draghinazzo and
Falsetta. The latter is bid to take the appearance of one of king
Marsilius's heralds, the coat of arms and battoon; and thus
equipped, to inform Gradasso that Rinaldo expects to meet him at
mid-day. Gradasso accepts the invitation, and gifts the false
herald with a cup.

The same devil, again transformed, comes now to Rinaldo, as if
from Gradasso, but with a very different appearance. He has a
turban on his head, wears a flowing robe, and has rings in his
ears, instead of on his fingers. His object is to remind Rinaldo,
on the part of Gradasso, to meet him in the morning, which had
been the time previously stipulated. Thus each, on the supposed
invitation of the other, prepares for a different appointment.—
Rinaldo necessarily is first at the place, but sees nothing but a

        Small pinnace anchor'd by the shore.

He, however, immediately after, descries a figure on the beach, in
the garb and guise of Gradasso, but which was, in reality, no
other than one of the fiends, Draghinazzo, evoked by Malagigi, and
thus transmogrified. The combat immediately begins; and Rinaldo,
after some blows given and taken, making a desperate two-handed
stroke at the supposed Gradasso, buries his sword Fusberta in the
sand. The devil avails himself of the opportunity to escape, flies
to the boat, and is putting off. Rinaldo, however, follows him
into his barque, and deals a blow at him, but the demon leaps from
prow to poop:

        Rinaldo chas'd him back from poop to prow,
        The sword Fusberta flaming in his hand;
        But he from side to side, from stern to bow,
        Flits, while the barque is drifting from the land.
        Rinaldo marks it not; who thought but how
        To reach the foe with his avenging brand;
        Nor from his long day-dream of vengeance woke.
        Till the false fiend was melted into smoke.

Yet the paladin will not give over his hopes of finding him, and
renews a fruitless search above and below. In the meantime, the
barque is seven miles from shore, and Rinaldo observes, too late,
that she is scudding, self-steered, before the wind.

The vessel at length takes the ground near a beautiful garden, and
Rinaldo lands in front of a palace, worthy of its grounds.—Here,
says the author, I leave him, with less compunction, as he is in
good quarters, and proceed in pursuit of Orlando, who, having
wandered as far as the Tanais, in search of Angelica, meets an old
man weeping the loss of his son, who had been taken prisoner by a
giant. The paladin delivers the youth, and the old man, in
gratitude, presents him with a book, which is capable (he says) of
resolving the questions of any one who consults it. Instructed by
this book, he seeks a sphynx, who appears to have been a yet
better resolver of doubts, in order to obtain information of the
dwelling-place of Angelica. The monster tells him, that this is in
Albracca of Catay. In the meantime the sphinx has her question for
the interrogator, which it is death not to interpret; and plies
Orlando with the riddle, solved by Œdipus. Orlando, with intent to
cut the knot which he cannot untie, draws Durindana, attacks the
monster sword in hand, and at length slays and tumbles her from
the rock on which she made her abode. He has now leisure to look
in his book for the solution of the sphynx's enigma; and finds
that her question of "What animal begins his career upon four
legs, after a time continues it on two, and ends it upon three?"
means Man; designating thus the child who crawls, the man who
walks, and the old man who supports himself with a stick. Having
cleared up this point, he pursues his way still poring upon the
book, and soon arrives at a river dark, deep, and dangerous, whose
precipitous banks afford no means of passage. Orlando rides along
the shore till he comes to a bridge, where he dismounts. This is
kept by a giant, who tells him that _he_ who arrives at that
bridge, which is justly named the Bridge of Death, has little
while to live; for that all the roads which lead from it wind back
to that fatal water, into which either he or Orlando must soon be
plunged never to rise again. Orlando, however, who seems little
impressed by this warning, springs upon the bridge, and attacks
him. A desperate combat now ensues, but with the usual issue. The
giant is slain. He, however, in falling, springs a clap-net of
iron, which closing on the paladin, beats his sword out of his
hand, and envelopes him in its folds.

As he lies helpless in this trap, a friar arrives, who, after vain
attempts to release him, offers him spiritual consolation, which
is ill received: but the friar, having the sinner at his mercy,
continues to inculcate it; and in illustration of the powers of a
protecting Providence informs him of a late miraculous escape of
his own. He was travelling with certain of his brothers, when they
were surprised by a horrible Cyclops, who made a feast on one of
his companions, but cast him from a rock, as worthless carrion;
when he luckily lighted amongst the branches of a tree, where he
lay concealed till evening, and then effected his escape. He is
yet engaged in his narration, when he breaks off with a scream and
flies.

His sudden terror was produced by the sight of the very Cyclops of
whom he spoke, who came armed with a club and three darts. He,
however, instead of pursuing the friar, stops to consider Orlando.
He then takes up Durindana, which lies near, and hews the chain-net
in pieces, without injury to the count, whose skin was
enchanted. Orlando instantly starts up, his bones aching with the
blows, which had not been able to penetrate his flesh; and seizing
the giant's club, they, having thus exchanged weapons, engage in a
desperate and equal combat. For if Orlando's skin was
invulnerable, the giant's armour, which was made of griffins'
claws, was equally impenetrable. At length Orlando bethinks him of
the three shafts, which the giant had laid down, as well as his
club, when he possessed himself of Durindana.

Seizing these, and launching one of them at his single eye, it
penetrates his brain and stretches him dead. At this juncture the
friar, who yet trembles with fear as well as joy, reappears, and
entreats Orlando to accompany him towards the dead cyclops' den,
for the purpose of liberating his companions.

This done, Orlando rides on; when, arriving at a place where many
roads cross, he meets a courier, and asking him news, learns that
he is dispatched by Angelica, to solicit the aid of Sacripant,
king of Circassia, in favour of her father, Galaphron, besieged by
Agrican, emperor of Tartary, in Albracca. This Agrican had been an
unsuccessful suitor to the damsel, whom he now pursues with arms.
Orlando, who learns that he is within a day's journey of Albracca,
now thinks that he is secure of Angelica, and proceeds with
rapture towards her seat.

Thus journeying, he arrives at a bridge which united two
mountains, and under which ran a foaming river. Here a damsel
meets him with a goblet, and informs him, with much grace of
demeanor, that it is the usage of the bridge to present the
traveller with a cup, which she offers to Orlando, and which the
paladin, in courtesy, drains. He has, however, no sooner swallowed
the julep which sparkles in it, than his brain dances, and he is
no longer conscious of the object of his journey, or even of his
own existence. Under the influence of this fascination, he follows
the damsel into a magnificent and marvellous palace.

Here the author leaves the count to return to Gradasso, who,
deceived by the false herald that appointed him to meet Rinaldo
upon the sea-shore at noon, in vain expects his arrival. He waits
there till night, when he retires full of indignation at the
supposed cowardice of his opponent. In the meantime, Ricciardetto
(who had been left by his brother, Rinaldo, in charge of
Charlemagne's army), on the paladin's departure for the false
appointment according to the instructions he had received, in case
of his not returning in a given time, withdraws Charles's forces
from Marsilius's camp, and returns to France.

Gano immediately cries out upon Rinaldo's treason, and all is
dismay. On the other part, Marsilius, thus deserted, has no means
of safety, but in making peace with Gradasso, and consenting to
hold Spain as his liegeman. In consequence of his so doing,
Gradasso, strengthened by the accession of Marsilius, with
Grandonio and his other vassal kings, marches upon Paris.
Charlemagne, with all his peerage, sallies to encounter him; but
his army experiences a disastrous rout, and he, with almost all
his paladins, is captured; while Paris is immediately invested by
the invaders.

Gradasso, however, does not abuse his victory: he takes Charles by
the hand, seats him by his side, and tells him he wars only for
honour. Hence he renounces all conquests, but insists on the
monarch promising him Bayardo and Durindana, both the property of
his vassals, the first of which, as he maintained, was already
forfeited by the treason of Rinaldo. To this; Charlemagne and his
peers in acknowledgment of their defeat, were to remain his
prisoners for a day: Bayardo, who had been brought back by
Ricciardetto, was to be forthwith delivered up, and Durindana
consigned to Gradasso in Sericana, upon the return of Orlando to
France. To these terms Charlemagne readily accedes, and sends for
the horse to Paris.

Here, Astolpho had assumed the command, having obtained his
freedom during the confusion, which followed upon the rout of
Charlemagne's army, and asserted an authority which, in the
absence of the other peers, there was no one to dispute.

He receives with great indignation the messenger dispatched for
Bayardo, and throws him into prison; answering the embassy by a
herald, who says, on the part of Astolpho, "that Charles has no
right in the steed; but that Gradasso may come and fight for him;
in which case he will meet him in the field."

The next day the two knights encounter, having previously
established the conditions of their combat. The enchanted lance
performs a new wonder; and Gradasso, the terrible Gradasso, is
unhorsed.

According to their previous agreement, Gradasso is to give up his
prisoners, and return to his kingdom of Sericana. Astolpho,
however, begs him not to spoil a jest which he wishes to put upon
Charlemagne and his paladins, by making them believe that the
issue of the duel had been different from what it was, and that
they, therefore, (in consequence of the first proffer of Gradasso
not having been acceded to,) were still the prisoners of that
sovereign. When Astolpho has sufficiently bantered both king,
count, and bishop (for Turpin was amongst the captives, and one of
the objects of his raillery), he falls upon his knees, begs pardon
of Charles for his irreverence, and observes, that as he is ill
looked upon in his court, he will leave the field to Gano, and set
out on the morrow in search of his cousins Orlando and Rinaldo.
Having said this, Charles and his peers are freed, and Gano is
getting into his saddle; when he is brought back by Astolpho, who
observes, that he only gives him his liberty, (since the disposal
of all is at his option,) on condition of his swearing before
Charles, to constitute himself his prisoner for four days,
whenever he should enjoin it. Charles undertakes for his
compliance with such a requisition, and seeks to detain Astolpho
with the bribe of Ireland; but the duke is inflexible, and
departs. Gradasso also returns into Sericana.

The author now returns to Rinaldo, who was landed by the self-piloted
boat in what was, it seems, denominated _The Joyous
Garden_. He is scarcely disembarked, before a lady appears, who
takes him by the hand, and conducts him into a palace, where he is
served by attendant damsels, with every sort of luxury and
magnificence. At last, the chief of the servants tells him, that
all this is his which he surveys, being the present of a lady,
who, to have his love, has brought him out of Spain. While Rinaldo
stands lost in astonishment, the name of Angelica, who is
proclaimed by this man to be the mistress of the palace, breaks
the charm, and he flies in fury through the garden, till, arriving
at the landing-place, he leaps again into his pinnace. The bark,
however, remains immoveable, and he is about to cast himself into
the sea in despair, when it darts from the shore and traverses the
waves.

Arrived on the banks of a well-wooded country, it again takes the
land; and Rinaldo disembarking, encounters a hoary and aged man
upon the beach, who has a melancholy story for the paladin, of a
ravisher who had that moment carried away his daughter. Pursuing
the thief, Rinaldo falls into a pit-fall, and is carried away
prisoner by a giant; who bears him to a castle, situated upon a
promontory, the walls of which were covered with maimed bodies and
heads, some of which yet quivered with the remains of life.

The giant, entering the building, casts Rinaldo down before an old
woman of stern and forbidding appearance; who thus addresses him:
—

        "Haply, Sir Knight, thou hast not heard display
        "Our castle's use," exclaims the beldame old;
        "In the short time thou hast to live,—a day
        "Is yet thine own,—the story shall be told:
        "Then listen to the legend, whilst thou may,
        "And I the melancholy tale unfold.
        "Thou in that space may'st hear the tale of sorrow,
        "And witness to its truth in blood to-morrow."

She pursues her story* thus: "Know, Sir Stranger, that this castle
was formerly held by a rich lord, famous for his magnificence and
hospitality, and yet more so, for the incomparable beauty of the
lady whom he had to wife. This castellan was hight Gryphon, his
castle Altaripa, and Stella was the name of his wife. It was his
favourite pleasure to disport himself in the green-wood near the
shore, where thou arrived'st this morning, and roving one day
through this, he heard the hunting-horn of a stranger, whom he
invited to his castle. The guest was Marchino, lord of Aronda, and
my husband; who was so smitten by the beauty of Stella, that he
could not rest till he had made her his own. He, however,
dissembled his evil intentions, and took a friendly leave of his
entertainer. This was only to return, as a treacherous enemy. He,
accordingly, bearing some resemblance to Gryphon, counterfeited
his ensigns, and came back with a party of his retainers, whom he
concealed, as well as those, in the neighbouring wood. He, in the
mean time, pursued the chace unarmed. Gryphon again sought him
out, and finding him apparently distressed by the loss of a hound,
joined him in his search. He was thus decoyed into the ambuscade,
and assassinated. Marchino, having disposed of his rival, entered
Altaripa under the disguise of Gryphon's ensigns, where he did not
leave a soul alive, with the exception of Stella. She, while
preserved by the conqueror, brooded in secret over schemes of
vengeance, and after pondering some time, determined to have
recourse to that animal whose wrath is the most intolerable,
namely, the wife who has been once loved, and after slighted for
another. This was no other than myself, and the cruelties which I
perpetrated, well justified her expectation. Two children, whom I
had by Marchino, I killed and quartered.—Think upon this: yet
know that I still triumph in the recollection of my vengeance.
Their heads only, I preserved: the remainder I cooked, and served
up to the wretched father for his supper. This done, I departed
secretly for the court of the king of Orgagna, who had long been a
wooer to me, without success. Him I stirred up to vengeance
against Marchino, and brought in arms against his newly-acquired
castle of Altaripa.

* I have thought it the duty of a translator, to preserve this
story; but I would say to my readers, in the words of Ariosto,—

        Lasciate questo canto, che senz' esso
        Può star l'istoria, e non sarà men' chiara.
        Mettendolo Turpino, anch' io l'ho messo.

        Leave out this canto; since the tale will tell
        Without it, and the story is as clear:
        Which, told by Turpin, I relate as well.

While I was gone on this errand, Stella, with dishevelled hair, a
smile upon her lips, but bitterness in her heart, presented
herself before the murderer of her husband, with the heads of his
two children in a charger, and disclosed to him the horrid
tragedy, at which he had been an unwitting assistant. The traitor
hesitated for a moment, as if suspended between the desire of lust
and vengeance, and then slew the lady, and satiated both; nay, as
if in outrage of God and man, pursued his impious loves with the
body, till I returned with the king of Orgagna.

After a desperate resistance, we possessed ourselves of Altaripa,
and Marchino, having been made prisoner, perished in such tortures
as he had deserved.

The king of Orgagna now departed, leaving me mistress of the
conquered castle, with three giants for my defence, having first
buried the unfortunate Stella, together with the body of Gryphon,
which had been left exposed and subjected to outrage by the
barbarous Marchino.

More than eight months had now passed when a horrid cry was heard
from the marble sepulchre, in which Gryphon and Stella were laid,
and we fled in dismay from the sound. Only one of my giants, more
daring than his fellows, approached the tomb, and lifted the lid;
when a monster thrust forth its claw, and having dragged him into
the grave, devoured him alive. We immediately walled up the space
about the monument, as a protection against its attacks, and the
monster, having made its way out of the sepulchre, remains thus
enclosed between the defences which we have constructed. But such
is his rage and craving for human flesh, that we supply him with
this, lest he should tear down the wall in his fury. Hence the
usage of this castle; which is to seize on all strangers, in order
to provide him with food. The quarters which you see exposed on
the walls, are the leavings of the beast: for though the custom
sprung out of necessity, my heart is become hardened with cruelty,
and I now live for no other pleasure."

Rinaldo hears the hag with stern composure, and desires no other
favour than that of being exposed to the monster, clad in armour,
as he is, and with Fusberta in his hand. This the beldam grants,
with a bitter smile of mockery, and the night closes upon him in
his dungeon.

The succeeding morning, he is lowered down from the wall into the
space tenanted by the beast, the horrible fruit of Marchino's
intercourse with the body of Stella. A desperate combat now
ensues, Rinaldo being unable to make any impression on the scales
of the monster: while he, on the contrary, shears away plate and
mail from the paladin. While he is engaged in this hopeless
struggle, the beast seizes Fusberta with his teeth, and disarms
Rinaldo, who is left without defence.

The author here leaves him, as he says, to speak of a spirit
hardly less afflicted, though in another manner: he means
Angelica; who expects in trembling, the effect of Malagigi's
attempt. He arrives, and states his failure, but would comfort the
damsel with the thoughts of vengeance; relating to what a perilous
pass he had brought the miserable Rinaldo; for it was by his
stratagem that he was conveyed to Altaripa. She, however, is in
despair at his danger, and overwhelms Malagigi with repoaches. He
tells her, it is not yet too late to save him, and furnishes her
with the means. These are a rope, with a noose at the distance of
every palm, a cake of wax, and a file. Furnished with these
implements, and instructed by Malagigi in the use of them,
Angelica flies through the air to the succour of Rinaldo.

The miserable paladin had, in the mean time, sprang upon a beam,
which projected from the wall, and thus remained hanging between
heaven and earth, with little hope even of present safety; since
the monster continually leapt at him, and, often, all but reached
him with his claws. It was now evening, when Rinaldo was surprised
by the shadow of a woman, and soon after by the sight of Angelica,
kneeling before him, self-suspended in air. She reproaches herself
for having brought him into this peril, and opening her arms,
entreats him to take refuge in them, and escape. Such, however,
are the effects of the fountain of hate, that Rinaldo spurns at
the proposal, and vows if she does not immediately depart, he will
cast himself down from the beam. After long and fruitless efforts
to move him, she at length descends, throws her cake of wax to the
monster, and immediately flings her rope, knotted with nooses,
before him. The beast, who takes the bait, finding his teeth glued
together by the wax, vents his fury in bounds, and leaping into
one of the snares is noosed by Angelica, who leaves him thus
entangled, and departs.

Though the monster is delivered over to him gagged and bound, so
invulnerable is his hide, that Rinaldo makes long and fruitless
efforts to destroy him; till, at length, leaping upon his neck, he
squeezes his eyes out of their sockets; and the beast expires
under the gripe.

Another difficulty yet remained to be overcome. The walls were of
immense height, and the only opening in them was a grated window,
of such strength that Fusberta was unable to separate the bars. In
his distress, however, Rinaldo perceived the file which had been
left by Angelica on the ground, and, with the help of this,
effected his deliverance.

He is immediately discovered and surrounded, but he charges and
slays his pursuers; and the beldam, having witnessed the
destruction of her followers, throws herself headlong from a
balcony of three hundred feet in height.

Departing hence, Rinaldo returns to the seaside; but, unwilling to
trust himself again to the bark, pursues his way along the shore.

The author now returns to Astolpho, who had set out in search of
his cousins, Orlando and Rinaldo, splendidly dressed and equipt,
as was his use, and mounted on Bayardo; in the intention of
returning him to his lord. Having arrived in Circassia, he finds
there a great army, encamped under the command of Sacripant, the
king of that country; who was leading it to the defence of
Galaphron, the father of Angelica. Astolpho visits the camp of
this faithful, but ill-requited lover of the princess; and not
having the leopard on his buckler, which was of gold, is known
through the Circassian army as the knight of the golden shield.
Sacripant, much struck by the appearance of Astolpho and his
horse, accosts him affably, and

        Demands how his assistance may be bought,
        And bids him make his price of service known,
        "—With gift of this fair host, whom thou hast brought
        "To war in Indian fields from tower and town;"
        The British duke replies, "With this, or nought.—
        "Leave me, or make me at this price thine own.
        "Nor will I serve, sir king, for other pay,
        "Born to command, unweeting to obey."

This, with other more extravagant speeches, leads the Circassian
captains to consider him as a madman, and Astolpho is left to
pursue his journey. King Sacripant, however, has been too much
struck with the appearance of his horse and armour, to part with
him so easily, and having divested himself of his kingly
ornaments, he determines to pursue him.

Astolpho was in the meantime advanced a day's journey upon his
road, when he was overtaken by a strange warrior:

        The stranger knight was named sir Brandimart,
        Lord of the Sylvan Tower and its domain:
        Through paynim countries, and in every part
        Bruited for glorious feats, by hill and plain.
        Well versed in tilt and tourney's valiant art;
        In his appearance graceful and humane:
        Courteous, with that: and over and above
        His other virtues, famed for constant love.

        A gentle damsel had the knight for guide,
        Who with Astolpho bold encountered there;
        Blooming in early youth and beauty's pride;
        And in his faithful eyes as dear as fair.
        Him from afar the British duke* defied.
        And proudly bade him for the joust prepare
        And wheel and take his ground, and guard his right,
        "Or leave his lady love, a prize to better knight."

* Astolpho.

Brandimart is as ready for battle as Astolpho; but observes, as
the latter has no lady, he may wager his horse; as it was but fair
that each should deposit his stake. The proposal is acceded to,
and the knights encounter. Brandimart is unhorsed, and his steed
falls dead, while Bayardo remains uninjured by the shock.

The paynim knight observing the disconsolate looks of the damsel,
is so overwhelmed with despair, that he draws his sword and is
about to plunge it into his own bosom. Astolpho, however, holds
his hand, and exclaims that he contended but for glory, and having
won the honours of the fight, was contented to leave him the lady.

While Brandimart is vowing eternal service and gratitude, king
Sacripant arrives, and now longing for the damsel of the one as
well as the steed and arms of the other, defies them to the joust.
Astolpho, as mounted, meets the challenger, whom he instantly
overthrows, and presents Brandimart with his courser; leaving the
king to return to his army on foot. This disposition is scarcely
made, when Brandimart's damsel changes colour, and tells them they
are approaching the waters of Oblivion, and advises them either to
turn back, or to change their direction. Both refuse; and pursuing
their path, arrive at the bridge where Orlando was left.

The damsel, as before, appears with the enchanted chalice, which
is rejected by Astolpho with contumely. She immediately dashes it
to the ground, and a fire blazes up, which renders the bridge
impassable. Upon this the damsel, who accompanied them, seizes
each by the hand, runs with them along the river, and brings them
to another secret and narrow bridge, which they cross in safety,
and find themselves beside the enchanted garden.

Brandimart instantly batters down the gate, and the two warriors
entering, are attacked by sundry knights known and unknown, who,
having, no recollection of any thing, join blindly in the defence
of their prison-house. While these are engaged by Brandimart,
Astolpho entering the garden and pursuing his career, meets with
Orlando, who being, like the rest, mindless of kindred or of
country, makes at the English duke, who only escapes by the
activity of Bayardo. He clears the wall, and bears off his rider.

The author pauses to tell us that the enchanted water signifies
the affection, impression, or opinion which man takes from others,
either at sight, or upon trust; and the cup, which the damsel lets
fall, is that which gives its colouring to the thing seen.

Bayardo, this time, continues to gain upon Orlando's horse; and
while Astolpho is thus born out of danger, Brandimart is overlaid
with fearful odds in the enchanted garden; and his lady, trembling
for the issue of the battle, entreats him to yield to necessity,
and comply with the usage of the fairy. So saying, she flies; and
Brandimart, obeying her commands, yields, and drinking of the cup,
becomes as intoxicated as the rest.

Orlando returns from the fruitless pursuit of Astolpho, and
excuses himself to the fairy, who was named Dragontina, for not
having been able to overtake her enemy; who pursues his way to
Albracca, which Agrican is about to besiege. Here he is welcomed
kindly by Angelica, though she is somewhat outraged by his
rhodomontades. He is not long before he attempts to put them in
practice. For having one night ordered the drawbridge to be
lowered, he sallies out alone, arrives in Agrican's camp, and
unhorses his warriors, right and left, by means of the enchanted
lance. Being, however, surrounded and taken, his capture spreads
consternation among the besieged, and the author says that no one
dared sally from the city.

Relief, was, however at hand; for, as the burghers and soldiers,
are one day, leaning over their walls, they descry a cloud of
dust, from which horsemen are seen to prick forth, as it rolls on
towards the camp of the besiegers, which lay between the town and
the new army that was approaching.

This turns out to be the army of Sacripant, which, arriving the
morning after the capture of Astolpho, attacks that of Agrican,
with the view of cutting a passage through his camp into the
besieged city. Agrican, however, mounted on Bayardo, taken from
Astolpho, but not armed with the lance of gold, with the virtues
of which he appears to have been unacquainted, performs prodigies,
and rallies his scattered troops, which had given way to the
sudden and unexpected assault. Sacripant, on the other hand,
encourages his own by the most desperate acts of valour, and, as
an additional incentive to his courage, sends a messenger to
Angelica, entreating that she will appear upon the walls. She not
only complies with this invitation, but sends him a sword as an
earnest of her favour.

She arrives in time to see a single combat between the two
leaders, Agrican and Sacripant: in this, however, her defender
appears to be rather overmatched, when the Circassians break the
ring, and separate the two combatants, who are borne asunder by
the crowd. Sacripant, who was severely wounded, profits by the
occasion, and escapes into Albracca, where he is put to bed and
carefully attended.

The duel is an omen of the event of the battle, and the
Circassians, who had at first penetrated within their enemies'
lines, are now routed and fly in confusion towards the town.
Angelica orders the drawbridge to be lowered, and the gates to be
thrown open to the fugitives. With these Agrican, who was not
distinguished in the hurly-burly, enters the place pell mell,
driving both Circassians and Catayans before him, and the
portcullis is instantly dropt.

Thus shut into the besieged city, the Tartar king continues the
chase, regardless of his retreat being intercepted, and deluges
the streets with blood. Sacripant, hearing the tumult, and
learning the cause, leaps from bed, naked and wounded as he was,
and armed only with his sword and shield, opposes himself to his
fury. His example and his reproaches take effect. Her allies the
flyers, and, fresh forces coming to his assistance, and pouring in
upon Agrican from all sides, the Tartar king slowly and
reluctantly retreats.

The author here suspends this story, to speak of Rinaldo; whom we
left issuing from the castle of Altaripa, and pursuing his way
along the beach. Here he meets with a weeping damsel, who, being
questioned as to the cause of her sorrow, tells him she wanders
upon a hopeless quest, and is in search of one who will do battle
with nine knights, amongst whom is Orlando. This is the lady loved
of Brandimart; to whom Rinaldo promises his assistance, trusting
to accomplish the adventure either by valour or by skill. The
author here pauses from his narrative, and exclaims,

        To the grim winter and the dismal night
        Succeed the balmy spring and cheerful day.
        That battle had so fill'd me with affright,
        That I was all confusion and dismay:
        But now the strife is over, and 'tis light,
        Of ladies and of love shall be my lay;
        And I will piece my broken tale and tell
        What good Rinaldo and the maid befell.

The damsel, on their setting out together on the adventure,
insists upon Rinaldo's taking her horse. This he refuses, and a
contest of courtesy follows, which is ended by Rinaldo's accepting
the palfrey, on condition of her mounting upon the croup. This she
does, in some fear for her honour; but finding the cavalier cold
and silent, at last proposes to beguile the way with a story. To
this he consents, and she begins her narration as follows:

"There lived of late, in Babylon, a cavalier, called Iroldo, who
had for his wife a lady named Tisbina, to whom he was passionately
attached. Near them dwelt a Babylonian gentleman, named Prasildo,
rich, gay, courteous and valiant; who, making one of a party of
both sexes, in a garden, where a game was played which admitted
familiarities between them, fell desperately in love with Tisbina,
whom he vainly solicited, by every kind of gallantry and
magnificence.

"All his efforts were however unavailing; and, disappointed in his
hope, he fell into a state of melancholy which rendered life
intolerable. One only occupation seemed to afford him some little
relief. This was to brood over his sorrows in a wood, situated at
a small distance from Babylon.

"As he here one day indulged his grief (and it grew by
indulgence,) he fell into such a fit of passion, that he
determined, after a broken soliloquy, to slay himself and die with
the name of Tisbina on his lips. By a strange accident, his
intention was overheard by Iroldo and Tisbina herself, who were
walking together in the wood. They were both moved to compassion;
and Iroldo insisted upon Tisbina's offering some consolation to
the despairing lover.

"Her husband leaving her, that she may execute this purpose, she
comes upon him as if by accident; pretends that, though modesty
has hitherto restrained her, she has not been insensible to his
tenderness; and assures him, that, if he will give her an
indubitable proof of his devotion, in undertaking an adventure
which she has at heart, she will reward him with the possession of
her person.

"She then tells him that beyond the woods of Barbary, there is a
garden, which is surrounded by an iron wall, to be entered through
four gates. These are respectively called the gate of Life, of
Death, of Riches, and of Poverty.

"In the centre (she said) was a tree, whose top was an arrow's
flight from the ground, with leaves of emerald, and golden fruit.
Of this tree she required a branch, and again renewed her
assurance of the price which she would pay for the acquisition.
Prasildo joyfully promised it, and would have promised sun, moon,
and stars, as easily as the achievement of the adventure; upon
which he immediately departs.

"The lady, it appears, dispatched him to the garden of Medusa*,
for so it was called, that he might find a cure for his love in
absence and in travel: or, if he reached the spot, might find
there a yet surer remedy for his distemper. For the sight of
Medusa, who was to be found standing under the wonderful tree,
occasioned every one to forget the errand he came on, and, if he
had any speech with the dame, his very name and self.

* Designed, I suppose, as the type of conscience; as one "whose
sight would make him forget the errand on which he came," &c.

"Prasildo, departing on this forlorn enterprise, traversed Egypt,
and arriving near the mountains of Barca, encounters an old man,
to whom he relates the object of his expedition.

"The old man assures him that fortune could not have directed him
to a better counsellor, and immediately furnishes him with his
instructions.

"He begins by telling him that the gates of Life and of Death are
never used as entrances to the enchanted enclosure; and that it is
only through the gate of Poverty that man can penetrate into the
garden of Medusa. He next informs him that Medusa herself guards
the marvellous tree; whose appearance deprives whoever sets eyes
on her of his memory; but that she is to be terrified into flight
by the reflection of her own face.

"He therefore counsels Prasildo to provide himself with a shield
of looking-glass, being in other respects naked; for such
appearance is a fitting guise for entering the gate of Poverty.
This (he observes) is the most terrible and the most severely
guarded of all, being watched by Misery and Shame, Cold, Hunger,
Melancholy, and Scorn. "There," said he, "is to be seen Roguery
stretched upon the ground, and covered with itch, and (in strange
union,) Industry and Laziness, Compassion and Desperation.

"Having succeeded in the enterprise, and torn off a branch of the
tree, you will seek the opposite gate," he pursues, "by which you
are to retreat; and will there find Wealth seated, and on the
watch. Here you are to make an offering of a portion of the
branch, that Avarice, who plays the porter, may open to you
quickly; a wretch who asks the more, the more you give. Here, too,
you will see Pomp and Honour, Flattery and Hospitality, Ambition,
Grandeur, and Favour: then Inquietude and Torment, Jealousy,
Suspicion, Fear, Solicitude, and Terror. Behind the door stand
Hate, and Envy with a bow for ever bent."

"Prasildo having received his full instructions, now crosses the
desert, and, after thirty days' journey, arrives at the garden.
Here he easily passes the gate of Poverty, the entry of which no
one defends. On the contrary, there ever stands some one near it,
to encourage and invite.

"Having entered the inclosure, he advances, holding his shield of
glass before his eyes; and reaching the tree, against which Medusa
was leaning, the Fairy, who raises her head at his approach, and
beholds herself in the mirror, takes to flight; scared, it seems,
by seeing reflected in it the head of a serpent; though in other
eyes her beauty is divine.* Prasildo, hearing the Fairy fly,
uncovers his eyes, which were before protected by his shield, and
leaving her to escape, goes directly to the tree, from which he
severs a branch. Then, pursuing the directions received, makes for
the opposite gate, where he sees Wealth, surrounded by her
followers. This gate, which is of load-stone, never opens without
noise, and is for the most part shut: Fatigue and Fraud are the
guides who conduct to it. It is, however, sometimes open; but
requires both luck and courage to enable any one to profit by the
chance. It was open the day Prasildo came, and he made the
offering of half the bough, as he was instructed, and escaped with
the remainder of his prize.

* The circumstance of Medusa not being able to contemplate the
reflection of her own hideous appearance, though beautiful in the
sight of others; the fact of no one being able to win the golden
bough which she kept, but by refraining from looking her in the
face; and other circumstances, confirm the conjecture which I have
hazarded in a preceding note.

"Transported with pleasure, he issues from the garden, passes
through Nubia, crosses the Arabian Gulf with a fair wind, and
journeys day and night till he arrives in Babylon.

"Arrived there, he sends immediate news of his success to Tisbina,
who is in an agony at learning the unexpected result of her
device. Iroldo is rendered equally miserable, but insists upon the
necessity of her redeeming her promise, though he knows he cannot
survive its execution. She feels that she can as ill survive
Iroldo; and they at last resolve, that faith must be kept with
Prasildo, and that they will both die. They accordingly send to an
aged apothecary for a deadly draught, which they divide between
them; and each having swallowed a due portion, Iroldo covers his
face and throws himself on his bed, while the yet more miserable
Tisbina proceeds to the residence of Prasildo. Here she attempts
to dissemble her sorrow and to feign a cheerfulness, foreign to
her heart. But Prasildo detects the imposture, and at last extorts
a full confession of the truth. This declared, he reproaches her,
as having little faith in his generosity, with a bursting heart
renounces the proffered happiness, and dismisses her with an
affectionate kiss.

"Tisbina, who had assured him that if she had known him first, she
should have loved him as devotedly as she did her husband, now
departs, overflowing with gratitude, and returns to Iroldo who was
still unaffected by the draught, but prostrate on the bed. She
relates to him the sacrifice of her lover. The husband springs
from his couch, thanks God for this last mercy, and invokes every
blessing upon the head of Prasildo. While he is yet praying, he
sees the countenance of Tisbina change, who sinks, as if overcome
by sleep. The husband sees the operation of the drink with horror,
and is transported from his short fit of pleasure to a state of
the most agonizing despair.

"The situation of Prasildo is scarcely less intolerable; who
locked himself up in his chamber, in order to indulge his grief in
solitude, upon the departure of Tisbina. While he is shut up in
darkness, the ancient apothecary calls, and tells his valet that
Prasildo's life depends upon his immediate admission to him. The
valet was a native of Casazzo, of a merry humour and full of faith
and attachment, diligent, active, and experienced in all his
duties; but of a frankness which sometimes gave his master
offence. This man, having a master-key, admits the apothecary; who
excusing the intrusion by his zeal for Prasildo's repose, informs
him that he had that morning furnished the chambermaid of Tisbina
with a potion, by her mistress's order, which he believed was
destined for his destruction, as Tisbina had been shortly
afterwards traced to his house; but adds, that he need be under no
apprehension, even if he has swallowed the draught: since, in the
apprehension of mischief, he had substituted a mere sleeping-potion,
the effects of which were only calculated to last for a
few hours.

"Prasildo, transported with joy, immediately flies in search of
Iroldo, whose stronger constitution had as yet resisted the
soporific, and informs him of the joyful tidings of the
apothecary. Iroldo receives the news in such a manner as might
have been expected, and concludes with making Prasildo a return
such as he had never looked for. In a transport of gratitude, he
insists on his receiving Tisbina, and accordingly departs from
Babylon, leaving her yet asleep. On waking, she is combated by
opposing feelings; but at length, as the generosity of Prasildo
had made more impression on her heart, than she was willing to
confess, even to herself, yields to Iroldo's will, and takes
Prasildo for her husband."

The damsel was yet speaking, when a loud cry was heard, which
filled her with consternation. Rinaldo however, re-assuring her as
he best could, pressed forward through the wood (for they were
then in the centre of one) towards the quarter from which it
proceeded.

He soon perceived a giant standing under a vaulted cavern, with a
large club in his hand, and of an appearance to have struck the
boldest spirit with dread. On each side of the cavern was chained
a griffin, who, together with the giant, were stationed there for
the protection of the horse which was once Argalia's.

        This monster of enchantment was the creature.
        For of a mare, composed of spark and flame,
        (Strange wonder, and beyond the laws of nature)
        Made pregnant by the wind, the courser came;
        Matchless in vigour, speed, and form and feature.
        Such was his birth, and Rabican his name:
        Who, with his fellow-steeds, disdain'd to share
        The proffer'd corn or grass, and fed on air.

This marvellous horse being driven away by Ferrau, in the wood of
Arden, previous to his fatal encounter with Argalia, who had
possessed himself of him by enchantment, on finding himself at
liberty, returned to his native cavern, and was here stabled under
the protection of the giant and the griffins. Towards these
Rinaldo advances with deliberate valour, over ground whitened with
the bones of their victims. He is the first to smite at the giant,
but his stroke is rendered of no effect by the enchanted helmet of
his adversary. In a second blow he is more fortunate; but his
adversary, though wounded near the heart, escapes, and looses his
griffins. One of these immediately seizes the giant by a foot:
rises with him into the sky, hovers over Rinaldo's head, and at
length drops his burden, with intent to crush the intruder.
Rinaldo, however, who was as remarkable for his activity, as for
his strength and courage, shuns the descending mischief, and the
giant falls to the ground crushed, without harm to the paladin. In
the meantime, the other griffin, having towered in air, pounces
upon Rinaldo, who, watching his opportunity, wounds her
desperately in her descent. She has, however, strength enough to
soar a second flight, and swooping upon Rinaldo's helmet, loosens
its circle with her claws; tear it she could not, since this was
the enchanted helmet, which was once the head-piece of Mambrino.

In this manner the griffin repeats her attacks, and Rinaldo fends
and parries as he can; while the damsel stands trembling near, and
witnesses the contest.

The battle still continued, rendered more terrible by the approach
of night; when Rinaldo, fearing he should not be able to
distinguish his enemy, determined upon a desperate expedient, in
order to bring it to a conclusion. He fell, as if fainting from
his wounds, and on the close approach of the griffin, dealt her a
blow, which sheared away one of her wings. The beast, though
sinking, griped him fast with her talons, digging through plate
and mail: but Rinaldo plied his sword in utter desperation, and at
last accomplished her destruction.

The damsel now entreats Rinaldo to mount and proceed; but he
thinks the adventure ill accomplished, and proceeds towards the
entrance of the cavern. This was secured by a door,

        Whose marble pannel a mosaic fill'd
        Of pearl and emerald, sown with care so nice;
        That he who saw the piece, if little skill'd,
        Might deem it was a treasure passing price.
        In the mid-picture lay a damsel kill'd;
        And, writ in golden letters, the device
        This legend bore: "Let whoso passes, plight
        "His word to 'venge my death, and do me right;

        "Or he shall die the death; but if he swear
        "To slay the traitor who my death design'd;
        "The enchanted courser shall the warrior bear,
        "A courser that is swifter than the wind."
        The prince stopt not to think; but plighted there
        In solemn form, his promise, as enjoin'd;
        His promise to avenge, alive or dead.
        The slaughter'd damsel's blood, unjustly shed.

        Then enters, and beholds the courser tied
        With chains of gold, so famous for his speed.
        With foot-cloth of white silk he was supplied.
        And all things else convenient for his need.
        Tho' coal-black all the rest, the tail was pied.
        And starred with white the forehead of the steed;
        And white one foot behind. Bayardo's might
        Was more: but this had pass'd a dart in flight.

Rinaldo is delighted with his adventure, and, while surveying the
steed, beholds a book, secured by a chain, in which was written in
blood the history of the damsel's death.

The book related that Truffaldino, king of Baldacca, had a count
for his neighbour, distinguished for his virtues and
accomplishments, whom that evil-minded prince misliked on that
very account. His name was Orisello, and Montefalcon was that of
the castle where he resided. This lord had a sister as
distinguished for her merit, called Albarosa, who loved Polindo, a
noble knight of equal virtue and daring. The castle was built upon
a rock, and so well fortified, that Truffaldino, who had warred
upon the count, though he had made several assaults upon it, had
always been defeated in his attempts.

Things being in this state, Polindo, who had a great love for
travel, and often wandered from court to court, arrived at that of
Truffaldino; who, for his own evil views, shewed him great favour,
and having acquired his confidence, promised him assistance in his
designs upon Albarosa. As a means of forwarding these, he presents
him with a castle of pleasure, situated a day's journey from
Montefalcon; and Polindo having persuaded Albarosa to elope with
him, carries her thither; but while they are supping together,
with infinite delight, Truffaldino, who had entered the castle by
a subterraneous passage, unknown to its new possessor, breaks in
upon them with a party of his retainers, and binds them both. He
then dictates a letter to the lady, which he orders her to send to
her brother Orisello, in order to decoy him into his hands. She
refuses; when the tyrant puts her to the torture, in the presence
of Polindo, before whose eyes she expires, refusing compliance
with her latest breath.

Rinaldo, having read this dreadful history, swears anew to avenge
the treason, and, mounted upon Rabican, issues forth from the
cavern. He and the damsel, however, have not ridden far, when the
light fails them in a forest, where they dismount, secure their
horses, and compose themselves to rest.

        Beside the maid with zest Rinaldo sleeps;
        For him, nor time, nor place, nor beauty move.
        From whence we learn the antidote, which keeps
        The heart and mind from that which is above
        All other cure; that he, who sows and reaps,
        Or tilts and tourneys, never dies of love:
        But in this book I am ill read, nor can
        Bolt, as I would, such matters to the bran.

        And now the air on every side grew light,
        Though the sun shew'd not yet his golden ray;
        With few and fading stars the sky was dight,
        And the glad birds rang out their matin lay.
        Such was the season, neither day nor night;
        When the maid view'd Rinaldo where he lay;
        Who from her grassy couch before had crept,
        And watch'd the weary warrior as he slept.

        Of lively visage, though composed to rest,
        The lusty knight in early youth appear'd.
        Light in the flanks, and large across the chest;
        And on his lip scarce bloom'd the manly beard.
        On him the damsel gazed with alter'd breast,
        To her by new-discovered gifts endear'd:
        For slumber ever gives the sleeper's face
        I know not what of loveliness and grace.

While the damsel is engaged in contemplating the knight, she is
startled by a loud roar, and turning, sees a centaur with a live
lion, which he had just taken, in one hand, and a club and three
darts in the other. Rinaldo is at the same time awakened by the
sound, and grasping his shield, or rather the remnant of it, which
had been left by the griffin, advances to her assistance.

The centaur now leaves his prey, and flying to a little distance,
launches his darts at the paladin. These he avoids by his agility,
when the monster returns and charges him with his club. Rinaldo,
thus pressed, shelters himself, by placing his back against a
pine, and maintains the combat with Fusberta. The centaur, who had
at first seemed to have the advantage, in being able to curvet
about the knight, and threaten him behind and before, finding
himself deprived of this double means of annoyance, leaves him,
and gallops after the damsel, who had in the meantime seated
herself upon her palfrey. From this he snatches her in fury,
throws her on his own croup, and flies with her through the
forest.

Rinaldo, who is this while engaged in mounting Rabican, follows;
and, such is the swiftness of his horse, is almost immediately up
with the beast; who, being overtaken on the brink of a rapid
river, casts his burden into the stream, which carries it away.
Rinaldo and the centaur again join in battle; at first on the
shore, and afterwards in the water. The paladin at length slays
his savage opponent: but having slain the monster, is in doubt
what course to pursue.

He at last determines to proceed in the adventure in which he had
embarked, being especially moved thereto, by the hope of
delivering Orlando. Deprived then of the guidance of the poor
damsel, he resolves to steer the same northern course in which she
had before directed him.

Here, however, according to the author, Turpin leaves the story to
return to Albracca. Agrican was left there, surrounded and alone,
in the midst of his enemies. Whilst he is thus reduced to the last
extremities, he is saved by the very circumstance which threatened
him with destruction. The soldiers of Angelica, closing upon him
from all parts, had deserted their defences, and his own besieging
army enter these pell mell, in a part where the wall is
accessible.

In this way was Agrican rescued, the city taken by storm, and the
miserable inhabitants put to the sword. Angelica, however, with
some of the kings who were her defenders, and amongst whom was
Truffaldino, saved herself in the citadel, which was planted upon
a rock. Hither also came Sacripant when all beside was lost.

But though the situation of the fortress rendered it impregnable,
it was scantily victualled and ill provided with other necessaries
besides food. Under these circumstances, Angelica announced to
those blockaded with her in the citadel, her intention to go in
quest of assistance; and, having plighted her promise to come back
within a certain period, set out, with the enchanted ring upon her
finger.

Mounted on her palfrey, the damsel passed through the enemies'
camp at night, without having occasion to avail herself of the
talisman, and by sun-rise was many miles clear of their
encampment.

She at length arrives near Orgagna in Circassia, and here
encounters an old man weeping bitterly, who entreats her
assistance on behalf of his only son, who is dying of a fever. The
damsel, who was well skilled in medicine, promises succour, turns
her palfrey, and accompanies the elder.

This old man was a traitor, and his story a fiction, formed for
the purpose of getting her into his hands. He was, it seems,
employed to inveigle and capture damsels for the king of Orgagna,
and for this purpose brought those who followed him to a tower,
built over a river, which served him as a dungeon for his
prisoners. Angelica following him thither, the door closed upon
her, and she found herself a captive with many other dames and
damsels. Amongst these was Flordelis, the lady of Brandimart, who,
when cast into the river by the centaur, had drifted with the
current, and was taken up more dead than alive, by the wicked
elder. She now relates her adventures to Angelica, and tells her
how she was going, accompanied by Rinaldo, to the garden of
Dragontina, where Orlando, Brandimart, and many other valiant
knights were enchanted by that fairy.

Angelica treasures up their history in her mind, as useful to the
purpose which she had in hand, and on the door of the tower
opening, to admit a new victim, slips the ring into her mouth and
escapes.

Being again at liberty, she sets out for the garden of Dragontina,
and, entering it unseen, disenchants Orlando, Brandimart, and the
rest, by a touch of her talisman. These she conjures to assist her
in the recovery of her kingdom, and all depart together for
Albracca.

In the meantime a revolution had taken place in the citadel of
that metropolis. Truffaldino, always false, had surprised
Sacripant, and the other wounded princes in their beds, and cast
them into prison. This done, he sent a messenger to Agrican, with
an offer to deliver the fortress into his hands. Agrican, however,
received the proposal in a manner little expected by Truffaldino,
whom he reviled as a traitor and a coward; declared that he would
never be indebted to fraud, for that which he could have by force;
said he knew the extremities of the garrison, which must soon be
his, and declared, that as soon as the place was in his
possession, he would hang up Truffaldino by the heels.

Soon after this, Orlando, with his friendly squadron of knights
(nine in number), with Angelica in the midst of them, arrives
before Albracca; and charging through the camp of Agrican, arrives
at the foot of the citadel: this is, however, kept against them by
Truffaldino, who appears upon the walls, and declares that he will
only admit Orlando and his followers, on their swearing to protect
him for ever from the vengeance of Sacripant and the others; whom,
for his own safety, he has been under the necessity of casting
into prison. Orlando indignantly refuses; but, conjured by
Angelica, consents; as do the others who accompany him; and after
the oath has been taken as enjoined, the squadron enters the
fortress.

This, however, is found so destitute of food, that a sally is
resolved upon for the purpose of provisioning it: it is to be made
by Orlando, Brandimart, Adrian, Clarion, and Uberto of the Lion;
while Gryphon and Aquilant remain at home for the protection of
Angelica and the citadel.

Orlando and his friends having made the warder lower his
drawbridge, ride boldly towards the enemy's camp; and Agrican,
marking their scanty number, bids his squadrons stand apart, and
leave a fair field for himself and Orlando, who engage in a
desperate duel. While they are employed in this, with little
vantage on either side, and to their mutual astonishment at
finding themselves so equally matched, a loud larum is heard from
the citadel, which announces the arrival of succours.

This was an army, raised by Galaphron, for the relief of Albracca;
the vanguard commanded by a vassal giant; the second body by
Marphisa, a young Indian queen, who had made a vow in her infancy,
never to lay aside her armour, till she had taken three kings
prisoners, to wit, Charlemagne, Gradasso, and Agrican; while the
rear-guard was conducted by Galaphron himself. The van-guard, led
by the giant, is immediately engaged with the besiegers; and its
leader, armed with an immense hammer, deals such destruction
amongst their ranks, that all is speedily in confusion and
disarray.

Agrican, witnessing the rout of his followers, now entreats
Orlando, for his lady's love, that their combat may be suspended
till the morrow, in order to give him an opportunity of rallying
the fugitives. This Orlando not only grants, but offers to assist
him in his design. The offer is, however, courteously declined by
Agrican, who, flying in pursuit of the giant, unhorses him, and
leaves him desperately wounded to the daggers of his followers. He
himself charges the troops who come under the giant's conduct; and
the tide of battle is turned.

No attempt to stop the confusion of the vanguard is made by
Marphisa, who this time was retired from the field, and sleeping
under a tree.

        But first the queen her chamber-wench bespoke.
        "Attend to my command," Marphisa said,
        "And when thou seest our Indian army broke,
        "And Galaphron, its royal leader, dead,
        "When all these things shall be, 'twere time I woke,
        "_Then_, bring my steed and rouse me from my bed.
        "But till these things shall be, such care delay,
        "'Tis then this single arm shall change the day."

Galaphron now observing the rout of his vanguard, determines to
retrieve things, or perish in the attempt. With this resolution he
spurs towards the enemy; when Angelica, beholding his danger from
the walls, sends a messenger to Orlando, to entreat his assistance
for her father; reminding him that he fought beneath her eyes.

The author here leaves the story suspended, and returns to
Rinaldo; who journeying northward, in the direction which
Flordelis, the damsel of Brandimart, had first given him, arrives
at a fountain; where he finds a cavalier weeping upon the ground.
Having long observed his grief in silence, he at length dismounts
from his horse, and entreats the sorrowing knight to inform him of
its cause.

The stranger tells him that his misery is such as can find no
remedy but in death: nor does the fear of that oppress him; but
the knowledge that his death must be followed by that of another.
Rinaldo entreats him to explain how this can be, and prevails on
him to relate his history at length.

This the stranger began in the following manner: "About twenty
days' journey from hence is situated the famous city of Babylon,
of which Tisbina was the wonder; a lady alike renowned for her
charms and virtues. Of this treasure I became the possessor; yet,
having possessed her, found it my cruel duty to yield her to
another. For two years afterwards I wandered, almost deprived of
my reason; but time at last brought with it some alleviation of my
sorrow. To this common remedy of grief was united the reflection
that I had resigned her to the most virtuous and most courteous of
men; and that, however dear it might cost me, it was impossible to
repent my sacrifice.

"While I was thus wandering, my evil fortune led me into Orgagna,
whose rightful king, Poliphernus, was absent with the army of
Agrican; his kingdom having, during his absence, fallen into the
possession of an evil woman, who makes all strangers her prey.
This enchantress (for such she is), whose name is Falerina, has a
beautiful garden, which is only open towards the east; where a
serpent keeps the gate, to whom Falerina gives her unfortunate
prisoners to be devoured. The names of these are paired, a
cavalier and a lady, according to the order of their arrival; and
a couple is thus every day offered to the monster.

"I was amongst the prisoners of Falerina; when tidings of my
imprisonment, for my greater misfortune, reached the ears of
Prasildo, the noble gentleman to whom I had relinquished Tisbina.
Unknown to me, he immediately set out for the enchanted garden,
loaded with treasure, with which he attempted to accomplish my
release. All his endeavours, however, were vain; and desperate of
accomplishing it in any other way, he offered himself as a victim
in my place. This offer was accepted: I was thrust out of the
dungeon, and he remains a prisoner in my stead. This day is that
appointed for his sacrifice, which shall not be consummated,
whilst I am alive: for it is my resolution, when he is led out of
prison to be conducted to the place of punishment, to attack his
guards and perish in his defence. My single source of grief is,
that I shall not be able to purchase his deliverance with my
life."

Rinaldo bids the stranger be of better cheer, and offers to join
him in the attack of Prasildo's guards, to which Iroldo, who
conceives this will be a useless sacrifice of life, very
unwillingly accedes.

The issue of the attempt is, however, very different from what
Iroldo had anticipated. The rabble, who were conducting two
prisoners to the place of execution, are set upon by the knights,
and scattered on all sides; principally by the valour of Rinaldo.

In the male prisoner Iroldo recognizes Prasildo, as he had
expected; and the damsel turns out to be Flordelis. Rinaldo is now
impatient to crown his victory with the destruction of the
enchanted garden; but the damsel, his former guide, after vainly
seeking to terrify him by a description of the various monsters
and enchantments by which it was guarded, reminds him of the
imprisonment of Orlando, and his unaccomplished promise to achieve
the destruction of the garden of Dragontina. This consideration
prevails over his anxiety to demolish that of Falerina; and in
company with his two friends and the damsel, who all become
Christians in admiration of his prowess and in gratitude for their
deliverance, proceeds on his journey towards the garden of
Dragontina.

This however had been previously destroyed and effaced, even to
the last vestige, by the talisman of Angelica.

The knights, pursuing their journey towards its former situation,
meet on their way a fugitive from Agrican's army; who gives such
an account of the prowess of a champion who fought upon the part
of Angelica, that Rinaldo is persuaded this must have been
Orlando; though all are at a loss to imagine how he could have
been freed. They had not proceeded much farther, when they saw a
warrior under some trees, to whom a damsel was presenting a horse.
This warrior Flordelis recognized by her bearings for Marphisa,
and whom she especially counselled her companions to avoid. They,
however, and more especially Rinaldo, treated the caution with
contempt, and made boldly towards the virago.

As she is just mounting, to defy them to the joust, she is
approached by an elderly man, all in tears, who relates the
overthrow of Galaphron's vanguard, and entreats her assistance;
which she promises to bestow, as soon as she shall have unhorsed
and taken the approaching strangers.

Advancing against them, she first encounters and overthrows Iroldo
and Prasildo in succession, who are made prisoners by some of
Marphisa's followers, that were in waiting, together with the
attendant damsel. She next meets Rinaldo, and breaks upon him an
enormous lance, which had never yet failed her. Rinaldo too breaks
his upon the damsel, and both, casting away their broken spears,
encounter with their swords. Here Rinaldo's dextrous skill in
defence, and the superior temper of Fusberta, give him a temporary
advantage; and in parrying a blow of his opponent, he beats the
faulchion out of her hand. Full of fury, the virago deals him a
deadly blow on the face with her gauntletted hand in return, and
makes him reel in his saddle; while Rabican wheels round and
carries off his half-stupefied rider. Marphisa instantly springs
to ground and regains her sword, and Rinaldo recovering himself,
again spurs his courser to the encounter.

In the mean time, Orlando, at the command of Angelica, had
galloped to the assistance of Galaphron, at the head of his brave
companions, and had again changed the fortune of the day. He and
Agrican now meet a second time in the medley, and renew the
contest with more fury than before; and Agrican, being at last
convinced that it will be impossible for him to effect any thing
against Albracca but by the destruction of Orlando, determines to
bring the battle to a desperate issue, and in order to get his
adversary into a place where they shall be secure from
interruption, feigns to fly; and is followed by Orlando to an open
space in a wood, in the middle of which is a fountain. Here, after
mutual reproaches, they again charge each other with their swords,
and still with doubtful success. Night closes upon the combatants,
who have passed the greater part of the day in the interchange of
blows.

The two champions again suspend their combat almost of necessity,
and agree upon a truce till day-light. They accordingly lie down
together and engage in a friendly conversation. During this
Agrican makes out his antagonist to be Orlando; and Orlando seizes
the opportunity to attempt his conversion. Agrican, however,
receives the proposal with utter contempt, and observes that love
and arms are the only subjects of conversation becoming a knight.

This change of theme almost necessarily leads to the mention of
Angelica, and the rivals, being kindled by the discourse which
ensues between them, into new animosity, remount their horses and
attack each other in the dark.

The contest is thus continued with various success, and day breaks
upon this desperate and unheard-of duel. At length, however, the
fortune of Orlando prevails, and he after receiving many desperate
contusions (for wounded he could not be), inflicts a deadly gash
in his adversary's side.

Agrican is now deserted by his lofty spirit, and demands baptism
from the hands of Orlando:

        While tears descending bathed his manly face,
        The gentle count dismounted to his aid,
        Then locked the wounded knight in his embrace,
        Upon the fountain's grassy border laid:
        And kiss'd his fading lips, and sought his grace,
        And of the mischief done forgiveness prayed.
        The speechless Tartar king his head inclin'd,
        And with the cross his brows Orlando sign'd.

        When having to his sorrow found that he
        Was breathless, and all vital warmth was fled;
        He weened his gallant spirit was set free,
        And by the crystal fountain left him dead;
        Clad as he was in armour cap-a-pe,
        With sword in hand, and crown upon his head:
        Then first towards his courser turn'd his view,
        And in that steed the good Bayardo knew.

He is assured of this by a closer examination of the gentle horse,
who comes neighing to greet the kinsman and comrade of his master.

Mounted upon him, and leading his own Brigliadoro, the count
leaves the place, but has not rode far, before he hears the clash
of weapons; when, having first secured Brigliadoro, he rides in
the direction of the sound; and, guided by it, discovers a damsel,
whom three giants were conducting, with a camel and much treasure,
which they had carried away by force. One of the giants had charge
of the lady; while the other two maintained a combat with a
cavalier: but this story is broken off, by the author, who hastens
to tell the effects, produced by the death of Agrican.

All was rout and dismay in the Tartarian army; and Galaphron
entering the enemy's camp, set free Astolpho and the other
prisoners, who were detained there. Astolpho is scarcely presented
to Angelica, before he demands the means of avenging himself on
the enemy, and being furnished with a horse and arms, immediately
returns into the field. Here he is fortunate enough to meet one
clad in his own armour, and armed with the enchanted lance.

Of these he immediately repossesses himself, and joins Galaphron
and his troops, who had pursued the flying enemy to the banks of a
river, fast by where Rinaldo and Marphisa were still engaged.
Marphisa was protected by enchanted harness, yet was armed with
but half a sword; which, as related, was severed by Fusberta. On
the other hand, the greater part of Rinaldo's defensive armour had
been hewed away.

Galaphron instantly knows Marphisa by her cognizance, but is at a
loss to distinguish Rinaldo; till, observing Rabican, who had
belonged to Argalia, he conceived that he saw in him the murderer
of his son. Under this persuasion he rode at Rinaldo, and smote
him with all his force, when Marphisa, enraged at this
interference, immediately turned her arms against her aged
commander. Brandimart and others coming up, rescue him from the
hands of the virago, whom they take for some warrior of the Tartar
troops; when Rinaldo, as generous as Marphisa, not enduring to see
his former enemy overlaid with odds, joins her against those with
whom she is now engaged. The main body of Galaphron's army coming
up, reinforces the enemies of Marphisa; who is on her part
supported by the arrival of her own division, by whose succour,
joined to that of Rinaldo, she is enabled to repel the assailants.

All this time, Iroldo, Prasildo, and Flordelis, were standing at
some distance, and the damsel of Marphisa, was entertaining them
with a history of the feats and prowess of her mistress. Flordelis
is by this alarmed for the safety of Brandimart, one of the first
who had assailed Marphisa, and goes in search of him amongst the
warriors, whom the virago and Rinaldo had scattered, and who were
making, in utter rout and confusion, for Albracca. She, however,
to her infinite content, finds him safe and standing apart from
the fray, he having separated from the enemies of Marphisa, after
she was oppressed by numbers. The happy lovers, thus re-united,
retire into a neighbouring wood, and after giving a loose to their
mutual tenderness fall asleep upon the grass.

Here, however, a new and unexpected peril was impending. Their
caresses were unfortunately overseen by a hermit, who dabbled in
necromancy, and who, excited by the beauties of Flordelis,
determined on making her his prize. Among other secrets, he was
possessed of a root, which had the faculty of throwing the person
to whom it was applied, provided it touched any part of the naked
body, into a profound and indissoluble sleep. Armed with this, he
approaches Flordelis, lifts her coats, and applies it to her
thigh. Having thus so riveted her natural slumber, that he was
sure she could not wake for an hour to come, the hermit snatches
her up, and bears her off; being afraid to try the virtues of his
root upon Brandimart, lest he should awake before the charm was
consummated.

Brandimart slept soundly till he was awakened by a loud noise. At
the same moment he missed Flordelis: yet, notwithstanding his
unutterable grief, approached the quarter, from whence the sound
proceeded, in which he distinguished the cries of a woman in
distress.

On his arrival he found three giants, who were conducting a file
of camels. Two of them followed, and another preceded the string,
leading one, on which was seated a damsel, with dishevelled hair
and weeping bitterly. In her Brandimart believed that he
recognised Flordelis, and galloped in fury against the ravishers.

The giants instantly prepare to resist him, and in the combat
which follows, he is put to great peril, and loses his horse.

It is at this moment that Orlando, who had lately slain Agrican,
comes to his succour. His assistance renders the combat more
equal: but Brandimart, though he has killed one of the giants, is
beaten down by another. Orlando, however, avenges him on his
enemy, and clears the field. He has now leisure to look to his
bleeding friend, and finding there is yet life in him, consigns
him to the care of the rescued damsel, who applies the proper
medicaments to his wounds.

Marphisa and Rinaldo were this while still in full pursuit of
their enemies, who found refuge within the citadel of Albracca.
Marphisa having chased them up to the gates, menaced Galaphron
with vengeance; and, indeed, she and Rinaldo had now a common
cause. Marphisa on account of her recent quarrel with her former
leader; and Rinaldo since the fountain of hate had disposed him to
enmity with Angelica, and the oath, he had sworn on winning
Rabican, bound him to take vengeance on Truffaldino, one of her
defenders. They accordingly sit down before the place, and, on the
second day, Rinaldo appears beneath the walls, sounds his horn and
defies Truffaldino, king of Baldacca by the titles of traitor,
renegade and tyrant.

There were at this time, within the fortress, many warriors who
had sworn to defend him against Sacripant and Torindo, whom he had
imprisoned, and against all others whatsoever. Truffaldino calls
on these to fulfil their engagement, and several knights, with the
traitor king in the midst of them, descend from the citadel to do
battle with Rinaldo, on his behalf.

These were the brothers Gryphon and Aquilant, who had enchanted
horse and armour; Uberto, Adrian, and Clarion. They attack Rinaldo
singly and successively. He soon defeats the two first comers, but
he finds himself better matched with Gryphon of the enchanted
arms; with whom he engages in a long and doubtful battle, after a
fruitless expostulation and attempt to negotiate on the part of
Gryphon.

Leaving these, the author returns to Brandimart; who, restored to
life by the skill of the damsel, whom he and Orlando rescued from
the giants, is rendered desperate by the discovery, that she is
not Flordelis. He curses the hour in which he was rescued from
death, as well as that in which he was born, and recapitulates all
the circumstances of his life in the following apostrophe:

        "Thou took'st me, Fortune, from a royal dome,
        "(Such early blow thy deadly malice gave;)
        "And I, thus ravished from my noble home,
        "In other lands was sold to be a slave;
        "And now, long doomed in foreign climes to roam,
        "But her remember to whose breasts I clave;
        "(My father's and my country's name effaced,)
        "My mother's in my mind is only traced.

        "Never did evil destiny so lour,
        "As upon me; to early bondage sold,
        "With one, entitled Lord of the Sylvan Tower:
        "When, but to make me suffer sevenfold,
        "Softened awhile appear'd the faithless Power;
        "And the good Master of the Sylvan hold
        "Freed me; and having none his name to bear,
        "Of his broad lands and living made me heir.

        "But Fortune had so marked me for her prey,
        "That to fill up the bitter cup of woe,
        "Fairest among the fair, a damsel gay
        "She chose in her displeasure to bestow;
        "Simply to take the precious prize away.
        "Then can I choose but sink beneath the blow?
        "O thou, that hast renewed my fleeting breath,
        "Undo thy work, and give me back to death."

Orlando, and the charitable damsel sympathise deeply in his grief;
and the lady, to prove, at least, that he was not single in his
sorrows, begins the narration of her own adventures.

She informs him, that she was daughter and heir of the king of
_the Distant Isles_, where all the treasure of the earth is
accumulated. Gifted with beauty and destined to inherit such
riches, two lovers came to demand her in marriage on the same day,
Ordauro and Folderico; the one handsome and the other more than
seventy years old. The first distinguished by his prowess, the
second by his wisdom and riches. The damsel's father inclined in
favour of Folderico; but the damsel hoped by a sleight to transfer
herself to Ordauro.

She had accordingly obtained a boon from the monarch; and this
was, that no one should have her to wife, who had not previously
vanquished her in the foot-race. By this, she considered herself
as secure of success; but Folderico countermined her stratagem.
Being paired with her in the course, he had recourse to the
expedient of dropping three golden apples, and the damsel was
distanced by the same means as Atalanta. Thus the old man won his
wife; who, however, determined on taking such vengeance as was in
her power.

Here the lady, who was her own historian, observed Brandimart's
distraction; who being charged with it, confessed that he had
neither eyes nor ears but for Flordelis, and that he should never
regain possession of himself, till she was found. On this the
damsel and Orlando, who was mounted on Bayardo, and had resigned
his Brigliadoro to Brandimart, as before related, offer to
accompany him in an attempt to recover her, and they immediately
proceed upon their search.

Flordelis, in the interval, had been carried off by the hermit to
a cave; where she woke at the moment that a lion, who harboured
there, sprang forth to punish the intrusion of the ravisher: who
instantly dropt his plunder and fled. The beast, however, passing-by
the proffered prey, follows and tears in pieces the hermit who
had cast it down. Flordelis, while he is thus employed, escapes.

She, however, only gains a present respite from misfortune; for,
flying at random, she falls into the hands of a hairy savage in
the forest, who binds her to a tree with twigs; and then, gazing
stupidly upon her, casts himself down at a little distance.

Brandimart was this while in pursuit of her, in the same wood,
accompanied by Orlando and the damsel of the golden apples, who
was seated upon his courser's croup. Orlando now entreats that she
will finish her story, which she continues.

Folderico who had won the damsel, carried her to a tower, which he
possessed upon the sea-shore, called Altamura, where he kept her,
together with his treasure, under lock and key, and utterly
secluded from the sight of man.*

* As the author is indebted to Greek fable for the beginning, so
he is to Norman story for this subsequent adventure, which is
taken, with some variation, from an old _fabliau_. See Barbasan's
or Le Grand's _fabliaux_. The story would seem to be of Eastern
origin.

But what will not love? Ordauro who was also rich, though not so
wealthy as Folderico, purchased a sumptuous palace in the
immediate neighbourhood of Altamura, and at an immense cost made a
subterraneous passage from his palace to the damsel's prison; by
which he visited and enjoyed her without danger. At last, however,
the lovers, tired of the restraint under which they carried on
their intercourse, and emboldened by success, determined to make a
desperate effort to escape.

With this view Ordauro communicates to Folderico news of his
approaching nuptials with another daughter of Monodontes; for so
was called the king of the Distant Isles; and invites him, as his
brother-in-law, to the marriage feast. Folderico having carefully
secured the gates of his tower, goes thither, and finding his wife
installed as bride, becomes ferocious at the sight. Ordauro,
however, with great difficulty, succeeds in appeasing him, by the
assurance that she was a twin-sister of his own wife, to whom she
bore a perfect resemblance; and, by bidding him return to his
tower and satisfy himself of the fact. The means of proof appeared
decisive, and accordingly Folderico accepts them. He finds his
locks as they were left, and his wife, (who had returned by the
subterraneous passage and changed her dress,) alone and overcome
with melancholy. He again takes the way, which was somewhat
circuitous, to the palace of Ordauro, and again finds her there,
shining in all the festivity of a bride. He can no longer resist
the conviction that the two persons, whom he had seen, were
different women; lays aside his distrust, and even offers to
convoy the bridegroom and his bride on a part of their journey
towards Ordauro's natural home, to which he was returning.

A certain advantage was thus gained; since Folderico never left
his tower, though locked, for above an hour, and consequently
would have soon discovered his loss, if the lovers had eloped in
secret.

The party set out together; and at the end of the first day's
journey, Folderico turns back and gallops to his tower. He is now
first assured of his disgrace. Full of rage, he pursues his rival;
but does not dare make any attempt to recover his wife, till he
has separated Ordauro from his adherents. Having effected this by
a stratagem, he attacks his retainers, and repossesses himself of
the lady. He is destined to a short possession of the prize; for
he is, on his return, beset by giants, who seize her, and all his
treasure; which the wife was carrying off as a dowry to her new
lord. He himself escapes.

Orlando listened with curiosity to this relation: but Brandimart,
who only thought upon Flordelis, separated from his companions in
order to pursue a separate search. Whilst he is engaged in this,
he hears her cries, and, directed by them, finds her bound to the
tree. He dismounts from his horse to assist her, and is about to
loosen her bonds, when he is attacked by the savage, armed with a
rustic club and shield. This strange woodman is described as
gifted with extraordinary strength of body, and distinguished by
some strange propensities:

        He dwelt in woods, and on their produce fed,
        And drank the limpid brook which bubbled by:
        And (such his nature) ever, it is said,
        Wept, when he saw a clear and cloudless sky:
        Since, fearful of the sign, he lived in dread,
        That tempest, clouds, and cold, and rain were nigh,
        But joy'd in thunder and in hail; since he
        Hoped warmer suns and happier days to see.

This savage, but for the exclamation of Flordelis, would have
surprised Brandimart in the act of untying her. Being warned by
her of his danger, he guarded himself against his attacks, which
required all his skill and courage to repel. He indeed hewed in
pieces the rustic weapon with which he was armed; but the monster,
closing with him, grasped him in his arms, and attempted to cast
him down a precipice, when he fortunately escaped from his
embrace.

The savage finding himself foiled in this hope, and weaponless,
now flew to a sapling, which he was trying to pluck up by its
roots, when the knight killed him while engaged in the attempt.
Brandimart now releases Flordelis, seats her on his horse's croup,
and goes in pursuit of Orlando, from whom he had separated.

Whilst he is thus engaged, the author resumes the story of
Albracca. Rinaldo was left in close combat with Gryphon, whom he
at last stunned with a desperate blow. When Aquilant, believing
his brother killed, took up the conqueror. Gryphon, however,
reviving from the effects of the stroke, returned to the charge.
Marphisa seeing Rinaldo thus oppressed with odds, came to his
assistance; and others again of those sworn to defend Truffaldino,
who was an unwilling spectator of the fray, took part against her
and Rinaldo. Orlando was, this while, pursuing his way in search
of Brandimart, while Brandimart as vainly sought him through the
forest.

Whilst Orlando is thus engaged, he sees a damsel issue from a wood
upon a palfrey, who bears a book and horn. Addressing herself to
the count, she tells him, that, if he is what his countenance
bespeaks him, the fairest adventure awaits him, which ever was
achieved by knight; and which, indeed, had hitherto foiled the
prowess of all who had attempted it, who remained prisoners in the
enchanted garden, which she invites him (if he has the courage
sufficient for such an adventure) to attack. Orlando accepts the
proposal with rapture; the damsel presents him with the book and
horn; both necessary for the achievement of the enterprize; and,
having instructed him in the use of them, retires to a distance.

Orlando accordingly, having first disposed of the other damsel
whom he carried behind him, sounds the bugle, and a rock opens,
from which issue two ferocious bulls, with horns of iron, and
strangely coloured hair turned contrary to the natural grain:

        And sometimes green; now black, now white it seemed,
        Now yellow, and now red; and ever gleamed.

Orlando learned from the book, by whose rules he was to proceed,
that he was to bind these beasts; and this done, was to enter the
opening, from which they sallied, and plow with them the space
within. Such was to be his first labour.

The bulls long maintained a severe fight with the champion, and
often tossed, though they could not gore him: at length he so
fatigued them by repeated blows from Durindana, (for their skin
was as impenetrable as his own,) that he was enabled to master
them, seized them by their horns, and bound them separately, with
Bayardo's bridle, to an adjoining column, which was the monument
of the king Bavardo. He then made a plow of Durindana, the point
of which served as a share and the hilt as a handle, yoked the
bulls to the instrument, and having torn off the limb of a tree
for a whip, ploughed, the field as he was directed. The work
accomplished, he loosed his beasts, who ran roaring through the
wood, and disappeared behind a mountain.

Orlando now devoutly thanks God for his first success, and the
damsel of the book and horn, having dismounted from the palfrey in
the meadow, wreaths her brows with the flowers which it produced.
Orlando, however, does not allow himself a longer truce, but
sounds a second challenge on his enchanted bugle.

Upon the second sound, the earth trembles, and a neighbouring hill
vomits forth flame; which is followed by the appearance of a fiery
dragon. The damsel of the golden apples is now about to fly; but
she of the book and horn bids her

——"in faith and hope, stand near,
"For only he who proves the quest need fear."

The damsel of the golden apples, who resented Orlando's coldness
during their journey through the forest, observes she is glad that
he only is in danger, and that she cannot regret what may happen
to him;

"In that there lives not a more worthless wight."

This reproach reaches Orlando's ears, as he consults his book.
This guide taught him that his only means of safety consisted in
cutting off the dragon's head, before he was consumed by the flame
and venom, which issued from her mouth. The head cut off, he was
to perform the labour of Jason, and sow the field in which he had
laboured with the serpent's teeth. From these was to spring a crop
of armed men; and, if he saved himself from their swords, he might
esteem himself the flower of chivalry.

He has scarce learned his lesson, when the serpent is upon him.
Orlando protected himself from her assault with his shield; but
this and all his armour was consumed by the flame which she
vomited forth. He contends long with the monster, enveloped in
fire and smoke, but at last separates her head at a blow. He
immediately draws the teeth, puts them into his helmet, and sows
them as the book had enjoined. The effect followed which had been
foretold.

        First, feathers sprouting from the ground appear,
        By little and by little; then a crest;
        And next is seen the bust of cavalier,
        Furnish'd with manly limbs, and spreading chest.
        Foot in the front, and horsemen in the rear;
        They rise and shout, and lay the lance in rest;
        And, drums and trumpets sounding to the charge,
        Level the spear, and lift the covering targe.

Orlando, however, though he had neither lance nor shield left him,
soon reaps this harvest with Durindana; and the seed of the
serpent thus springs and perishes in a day.

The victory achieved, he blows the third and last blast upon his
horn, which the author thus prefaces:

        These dragons and these gardens, made by spell,
        And dog, and book by witch or wizard writ,
        And savage hairy man, and giant fell,
        And human face, to monstrous form ill fit,
        Are food for ignorance, which you may well
        Decypher, that are blest with shrewder wit:
        Then muse upon the doctrine sage and sound,
        Which lies conceal'd beneath this rugged ground.*

* The Italian reader will here again trace some lines of Dante.

        Such matter as is excellent and rare,
        And things of scent or savour, rich or fine,
        In open hand we do not loosely bear;
        Nor cast such pearls to be defiled of swine.
        Nature, great mistress, teaches better care.
        Who loves the flower with fencing thorns to twine;
        And covers well her fruits, and things of mark;
        The kernel with its stone, the tree with bark;

        A safe defence from bird, and beast, and storm;
        And has conceal'd the yellow gold i' the ground,
        Jewels, and what is rare for tint or form;
        That these may be with cost and labour found.
        And vain and witless is th' unwary swarm
        Who show their wealth, if they with wealth abound.
        The mark, at which knave, thief, and cheater level;
        And so by matchless folly tempt the devil.

        As duly would it seem to square with reason.
        That good should be with toil and trouble bought.
        And to obtain it otherwise were treason,
        Than by activity of deed and thought.
        'Tis thus we see, that art and labour season
        The victual, which without their aid is nought;
        And simple viands, in their nature good,
        Convert to sweeter, and more savoury food.

        If Homer's Odyssey appear compounded
        Of lying legends, deem not these unfit;
        Nor, reading of some god or goddess wounded,
        Let this aught scandalize your weaker wit:
        For who the secrets of the sage has sounded,
        Well knows, that for the sage, the poet writ;
        And veils a different thing, from that which lies
        Open to them, who see but with their eyes.

        But stop not ye, content, at the outer rind;
        Be not as these, but seek what is within;
        For if no better nourishment you find,
        You will have made small progress for your sin,
        And see in these strange emblems ill-divined,
        But sick men's dreams, and fables. Then begin
        A better task, their secret meaning measure,
        And turn the stubborn soil for hidden treasure.

Returning to the story, Orlando sounded his horn a third time;
and, on the echo dying away, was disappointed by the appearance of
a little white bitch-hound.

This, the damsel of the book, in hopes to stay the count, who was
now disposed to depart, assured him was that which was to crown
his toils.

She explains herself, by informing him, that in a neighbouring
lake is an island, the residence of the Fata, Morgana, whom God
has set over riches; which she

        "Distributes in the bowels of the mount,
        "Whence they are dug with long fatigue and pain;
        "And hides them in the river and the fount,
        "In India; where ants work the golden vein.
        "Nor let the tale seem strange, which I recount,
        "Since two fair fishes feed upon the grain.
        "Now good Morgana the bitch-hound has sent
        "To guerdon thee with treasure and content:

        "The wondrous Fay, for various riches vaunted,
        "Mistress of all that seas or earth enfold,
        "Is owner of a hind, in this enchanted;
        "That she is white, and armed with horns of gold;
        "And that by her no forest long is haunted,
        "Still restless and impatient of a hold.
        "Her many hunters vainly seek to catch;
        "But you may take her with this little brach.

        "Who soon shall rouse her from her secret lair,
        "Yelping upon the trail with questing cry:
        "Thou shalt pursue, thro' holt or desert bare,
        "Though hound and hart more swift than arrow fly:
        "Six days shalt thou pursue the flying pair;
        "But on the seventh cease the chase to ply.
        "Since in a fount the milk-white hind shall soil,*
        "And thou be guerdon'd for thy tedious toil.

* The technical phrase for a stag taking the water: as he usually
does when distressed. Hence our view-hollo of "Tayo!" for the
stag, is taken from the old French cry of "_Taihors_," or "out of
the swamp!" as our "Tally ho!" for the fox, is derived from
"_Taillis hors!_" or "out of cover!" which last etymology we learn
from Lady Juliana Berners. All our hunting phraseology indeed is
Norman; even where we should be least inclined to trace it to such
a source. Thus the cry of "Hiloicks! Hiloicks!" used by us in
trying a cover, we find in her precepts to be "Illocques,
Illocques!" or "There! There!" The Normans indeed formed both our
hunting code and hunting vocabulary. See many well founded
allusions to this in Ivanhoe.

        "Six times a-day (such riches shalt thou measure)
        "She sheds her horns; which yield an hundred weight.
        "And thus shalt thou collect such mighty treasure
        "As may defy the wit of man to rate;
        "Thrice blest, if countless wealth can purchase pleasure;
        "To this perchance deserve a happier fate;
        "And with the hind obtain what is above
        "That precious prize, the beauteous fairy's love."

Orlando however treats the temptation with contempt, and
unwillingly seating the damsel of the golden apples behind him,
casts down the book and horn, and departs.

Proceeding with her, he arrives at a bridge, where he meets with
an armed cavalier, who claims the damsel as his own. This turns
out to be Ordauro, to whom Orlando resigns her with great
satisfaction, and pursues his journey to Albracca.

Here the strife was still continued between Rinaldo and Marphisa,
united on the one part; and Gryphon and Aquilant, and all those
confederated to defend Truffaldino on the other. Rinaldo having in
this gained some advantage over his immediate opponents,
Truffaldino, who was present, fled into the citadel. This put a
short stop to hostilities, and the combat was suspended till the
ensuing day; when Truffaldino was to be again produced, and to
abide its issue.

In this interval two important circumstances occur. Astolpho (who
was Agrican's prisoner, when those, who entered Albracca with
Angelica, took the engagement to defend Truffaldino) learning from
Gryphon, that Rinaldo had been his antagonist, changes sides, and
goes over to his cousin.

To counterbalance this loss to the besieged, Orlando arrives in
Albracca, and is received with open arms by Angelica.

On the ensuing day the combat is renewed between the former
parties with the addition of Astolpho on one side, and of Orlando
on the other. In this Orlando and Rinaldo single each other out,
and after bitter reproaches, Rinaldo reproving Orlando for his
defence of a traitour, and Orlando twitting Rinaldo for his
robberies and evil life, engage in a furious combat; but here
Orlando is ill seconded by Bayardo, who will not advance against
his own master.

At this moment Rinaldo sees Truffaldino treacherously unhorse
Astolpho, and pursuing him, (for the traitour flies upon his
approach,) comes up with him before he is overtaken by his
defenders, makes him prisoner, and ties him by the feet to
Rabican's tail. With the wretch thus suspended, he gallops off at
full speed; the superior swiftness of Rabican rendering all
interference on the behalf of Truffaldino impossible; and drags
him at his horse's heels till he is dashed in pieces.

Whilst he is running this cruel course, Rinaldo thunders out
reproaches and threats against the abettors of the tyrant; and
Orlando, who had now obtained his own horse, Brigliadoro, through
the arrival of Brandimart, who joins him, renews his battle with
Rinaldo on personal grounds, the others considering themselves
released from the necessity of fighting him by the death of
Truffaldino.

Night however separates the two combatants, Rinaldo returning to
Marphisa's camp, and Orlando to the citadel of Albracca.

Here Orlando is received with all love and honour by Angelica; who
is, however, sighing in her heart for Rinaldo, and, with this
view, declares she will attend the duel which was to be renewed on
the morrow, and sends Sacripant, delighted with the task, to
demand a safe-conduct for her from Marphisa. Previously however to
Orlando's taking the field, she demands of him a boon; swearing
she will make him lord of her person, if he will promise to
undertake an adventure upon her bidding; and avails herself of
this promise, the next day, when the strife is at its hottest;
telling Orlando that enough has been done for honour, and
entreating him now to depart upon the promised quest; which was no
other than the destruction of Falerina's garden in the kingdom of
Orgagna.

The combatants being separated, and Orlando departed, Angelica
seeks to communicate with Rinaldo, but in vain; and returns
disconsolate to Albracca, from whence she sends a damsel to
Rinaldo with Bayardo, whom Orlando had dispatched to that fortress
on receiving Brigliadoro from Brandimart; but Rinaldo remains
unmoved by these various acts of kindness.

The scene is now again changed, and Orlando, whom Angelica had
dispatched upon what she conceived a fatal enterprise, pursues his
way towards Orgagna.

He arrives at a bridge, on which is seen a cavalier, armed at all
points, and mounted, as if for its defence. Near this was seen a
beautiful damsel, suspended by her hair to a pine, and weeping
bitterly. Orlando immediately moves to her relief; but is exhorted
by the armed cavalier to leave her to a fate, which she had well
deserved by her wickedness. In proof of which he proceeds to
relate her adventures.

"My name," pursued the knight, "is Uldano, and hers Origilla. We
were both born in the city of Bactria, and I, from earliest
infancy, conceived a passion for her, which grew with my growth,
and derived strength even from her fickleness. Another youth, of
the name of Lucrino, loved her equally with myself; and both were
so well kept in play by her artifices, that each believed himself
to be favoured.

"Being at length impatient of longer delay, I threw myself at her
feet, and entreated her to take compassion on my torments. She
appeared to meet my passion half-way; but told me, there was but
one mode in which I could gratify my desires without the sacrifice
of her honour, and suggested the following stratagem as the means.

"'You know,' said the damsel, 'that my brother, Corbino, though
scarcely arrived at manhood, was slain by Oringo in combat, a man
grown, and trained to arms. To avenge this treason, my father has
offered a large reward to him who shall take the murderer, and
would soon find one who would undertake to execute his revenge.
You shall bear the cognizance of Oringo, shall suffer yourself to
be taken, and thus procure admission into my father's house. Here
you shall receive the reward of your constancy, and I will
afterwards effect your deliverance.'

"I, senseless as I was, gave into the snare, and had scarce
departed, in order to assume the device and arms she suggested,
when the traitress called to her my rival, Lucrino, and told him,
that now was the time to win her by the death or capture of the
murderer of her brother; for she knew his motions, and where he
was to be found, indicating to him the place whither she had sent
me with his borrowed ensigns.

"To complete her purpose more effectually, she furnished him also
with the ensigns of a third lover, named Ariantes, to whom her
father had promised her in marriage, on condition of his avenging
him on Oringo.

"In the mean time, this Ariantes met and attacked me, taking me by
my cognizance for Oringo, and I yielded myself a prisoner, after
little resistance, in the hope of the reward promised by Origilla.

"Lucrino, who was, this while, dispatched by her in pursuit of me,
fell in with the real Oringo, and both were desperately wounded in
the combat which ensued. Lucrino had, however, strength enough
left to master his opposite, and was bringing him away prisoner,
when he was met by the father of Origilla, who at first judged him
to be Ariantes; but when undeceived on a nearer approach, offered
him his daughter in marriage, whom he had previously promised to
Ariantes on the same conditions, provided he would deliver up his
prisoner.

"The offer was scarcely accepted, when Ariantes arrived, bringing
in me, disguised in the arms of Oringo; and the whole stratagem
was now apparent.

"The clearing up this led to new contests: for Ariantes complained
of Lucrino's having taken his bearings; and Oringo thought himself
wronged in that his had been usurped by me.

"Now, to wear the ensigns of another is death by our law, unless
the penalty be remitted by him who has been offended; and the
cause being brought before the king, we were all condemned;
Oringo, for having slain (as before told) Corbino, who was a youth
scarcely capable of defending himself; Ariantes, for having
bargained away the life of another; and Lucrino and myself, for
having usurped arms and ensigns, which we were not entitled to
wear.

"Origilla was condemned to a yet heavier punishment; to wit, to be
hanged up by the hair till she was dead; while we, in the
expectation of our sentence, were to assist in the execution of
hers; and to keep watch and ward over her, as she wavered in the
wind. My lot (for we drew lots to determine the order of our
guard) happened to be the first, and I have already slain seven
knights, that would have relieved her; whose arms and bearings may
be seen fastened to the tree."

The knight had scarcely ended, when the wretched woman gave the
lie to his assertions, and denounced him as having slain those he
mentioned by treachery, hoping by the show of these trophies to
terrify others from attempting to defend her.

Orlando believes the lady, and defies and unhorses Uldano. He is
no sooner conquered, than a horn sounds, which a dwarf winds from
a tower's top; when another knight takes up the conqueror; and the
four concerned are all successively encountered, and dismounted,
by Orlando, who now cuts down the damsel, and departs with her
seated on his horse's croup.

Thus riding together, and beguiling the way with talk, they
descried, in the middle of a meadow, a huge rock of marble cut
into steps, and bearing an inscription in letters of gold; when
the damsel informs him they are near a notable wonder, which well
deserves his examination; since, if he will take the pains of
climbing this pile, which is hollow within, he may from the top
descry Hell and Paradise, opened to the sight below. Orlando
believes the tale, and ascends the steps, when Origilla having
possessed herself of Brigliadoro, laughs at him for his folly and
departs.

Orlando, now examining the inscription, finds it imports nothing
more than that this was the tomb of Ninus, the founder of Nineveh.
Little satisfied with the discovery, and cursing the damsel from
the bottom of his soul, he departs on foot, in order to prosecute
his adventure.

But here the author closes his first book, with the promise of
treating of higher and worthier matters in his second.


THE ORLANDO INNAMORATO.
BOOK II.
ARGUMENT.

Agramant, king of Africa, assembles his council for advice
respecting an intended invasion of France, and is exhorted to seek
out Rogero, as necessary to the success of his enterprise.
Rinaldo, with Astolpho, Iroldo and Prasildo, leaves the camp
before Albracca, in search of Orlando, with whom he is impatient
to terminate his quarrel. On his way, he falls in with a damsel,
in whose behalf he combats with an enchanted man, who plunges with
him into a lake, in which they both disappear. Agramant, in the
meantime, is unable to find Rogero, and Rodomont of Sarza, one of
his vassal kings, determines to undertake the expedition alone.
Orlando, who had been dispatched by Angelica on a perilous quest,
achieves this and other adventures. She is in the meantime robbed
of her magic ring by Brunello, who steals his horse from
Sacripant, and her sword from Marphisa. Rodomont, who threatened
to invade France alone, embarks for that country in a storm, and
makes good his descent. Orlando now falls in with the enchanted
man, who had regained the shore after leaving Rinaldo below the
waves, and a long combat ensues between them on land and under
water. Orlando at length vanquishes him, and makes the conquest of
Morgana's garden, of which he was the champion. From this Orlando
delivers all her prisoners, except Ziliantes, son of Monodontes,
her minion; and more especially Rinaldo, to whom he is reconciled.
The Christian knights delivered, excepting Orlando, depart to the
succour of Charlemagne; but Rinaldo, with his friends, soon falls
into a new snare. Orlando, accompanied by Brandimart, returns
towards Angelica, in Albracca; but, by the way, encounters
Brunello, pursued by Marphisa, and is himself plundered by the
fugitive of his sabre and his horn. He is afterwards entrapped by
the same spell as the others, and carried prisoner to Damogir, in
the empire of Monodontes. This adventure leads to the discovery,
that Brandimart is the eldest son of Monodontes; for whom his
younger son, Ziliantes, is also recovered by Orlando, who a second
time makes himself master of Morgana. Rinaldo, Astolpho, and the
rest, again delivered from prison by him, pursue their way to
France; but Astolpho is seduced from his companions by the devices
of Alcina. Rinaldo and Rodomont meet in battle in France; but are
separated. The invasion of this country is to be attempted by a
yet more formidable force than that of Rodomont; for Agramant,
having received from Brunello the booty he had made, discovers, by
help of the magic ring, the abode of Rogero, and allures him into
his service. Orlando, with Angelica, whose covert object is the
pursuit of Rinaldo, takes his way to France: she, drinking,
however, of the fountain of Disdain, while Rinaldo now drinks of
the fountain of Love in the forest of Arden, the two exchange
passions; he becomes her lover, and she now mortally detests
_him_, who is involved by his present pursuit of her in a
desperate duel with Orlando. Charlemagne, to end the strife, gives
Angelica in charge to Namus, duke of Bavaria. Agramant having this
while landed in France, pursues the war with various success. The
main actions are, as in the first book, diversified with a great
variety of episodes.


BOOK II.

The theme, announced as I before stated, begins with the
threatened invasion of France; to consult on which, Agramant calls
a council of his tributary kings. Here Sobrino strongly opposes
the measure; but finding his opposition useless, observes that the
only thing which can render it effectual, will be to get
possession of Rogero, a youth who is the cousin of Agramant by the
mother's side, and now detained a prisoner by the African,
Atlantes, on the mountain of Carena. This advice is better
listened to than the former, and the council breaks up after it
has been adopted, and the king has commanded a search to be
prosecuted for him, on whose presence so much appears to depend.

The scene now again shifts to Albracca, from before the walls of
which, still besieged by Marphisa, Rinaldo departs in pursuit of
his new enemy, Orlando, accompanied by Astolpho, Iroldo, and
Prasildo.

Astolpho was at the head of this party when they fell in with a
weeping damsel, who, being questioned as to her cause of sorrow,
related that, on lately crossing a neighbouring bridge, a wretch
had issued from a tower which commanded it, and seized upon her
sister that accompanied her, whom he made prisoner, and whipt
bitterly; having first stript her, and tied her naked to a
cypress. Astolpho immediately places the weeping sister behind him
on his horse, and all proceed together to effect the deliverance
of the damsel.

The damsel, bridge, tower, and scourging warder are soon descried.
Iroldo and Prasildo first encounter the oppressor, but are
successively defeated; and the ruffian casts their bodies into a
lake, into which the river, bestrid by the bridge, disembogues
itself. Rinaldo now attacks him with as little success, and is
beat down with an iron mace; but when the conqueror attempts to
dispose of him like the others, he makes such violent efforts to
free himself, that the savage, being unable to throw him, springs
with him into the lake; where they both disappear.

Astolpho remains a long time in affliction upon the banks, but is
at last persuaded by the two damsels (for one sister had in the
meantime freed the other) to depart.

He accordingly mounts Bayardo, gives Rabican to one of the
damsels, and one of the Babylonian knights' horses to the other;
and they both, thus mounted, go forth under his guidance.

At this time, Brandimart (who, it may be remembered, was in
Albracca) hearing of Orlando's departure, determines to pursue
him.

The same resolution is taken by Gryphon and Aquilant; and these,
arriving at the shore, find a castle situated upon the beach, with
an open gallery towards the sea. In this, damsels are dancing; and
the brothers are informed by two maids, who are passing with hawks
upon their fists, that it is their usage to detain every
passenger; who is obliged to join in their dance, and to pass a
night under their roof.

The brothers consent to submit to this joyous usage, but have soon
reason to repent their complaisance. They soon see a damsel
approaching upon Brigliadoro, which she had stolen from Orlando,
as was told in the former book, and who, being interrogated as to
the manner in which she had become mistress of him, said that he
was the horse of a knight (describing his ensigns as those of
Orlando) whom she had found dead upon a plain, with the body of a
giant by his side.

The two brothers are much distressed by this falsehood, which
leaves them little inclination to enjoy the festivities of the
castle, in which they had been compelled to join.

To add to their misfortune, they are surprised the ensuing night
in their beds; and, having been detained for some days in chains,
are, together with the damsel, who had also arrived mounted on
Brigliadoro, led forth for execution. As they are however
conducting to the place of punishment, a stranger knight is seen
approaching; but here the author breaks off, and carries his
readers back to the war before Albracca.

Marphisa had now encountered and worsted every one of the
defenders of Angelica, in an attack which they made upon her camp,
when she was assailed by Sacripant, who had hitherto been confined
to the fortress from the effects of a former wound.

A desperate combat ensues, in which the Circassian is much
assisted by the speed and docility of his horse Frontilatte. In
the heat of this a courier brings him news of the invasion of his
kingdom by Mandricardo, the son of Agrican. As he and Marphisa,
however, cannot agree upon the conditions of a truce, this
occasions but a short interruption of the duel; which is at last
only broken off by the author, that he may give some account of
the search made for Rogero, in consequence of what was determined
at the council of Agramant.

The emissary of the king returns, reporting the inutility of his
journey, made through the mountain of Carena, and Rodomont,
enraged at the delay, sets out with his own forces for the
invasion of France. In the mean time Agramant is assured that
Rogero is upon Mount Carena; though the garden, where he is
confined, is invisible; and that the possession of Angelica's ring
would enable him to succeed in his enterprise.

Agramant now promises a kingdom to whoever shall obtain for him
this prize, and the theft is confidently promised by a dwarf, who
is entitled Brunello.

This while, Orlando, robbed by the damsel of Brigliadoro, was
plodding upon his way a-foot: when he one day fell in with an
escort of armed men, leading two knights as prisoners, whom he
immediately recognized for Gryphon and Aquilant, and the damsel
who had carried off his courser.

The escort was, it seems, carrying off these to be devoured by the
serpent of the garden of Orgagna; but Orlando immediately routs
the guard, and sets the prisoners at liberty.

He has scarcely looked the damsel in the face, when he forgets the
wrongs he has received; and Gryphon, who had exchanged hearts with
her, almost at sight, is yet more fascinated by her graces.
Orlando observing this, under some pretence sends the two brothers
away, that he may keep her to himself; and sitting down by her on
the grass, begins to woo her with such courtesy as he can.

While he is thus engaged, another damsel approaches on a white
palfrey, who warns Orlando of impending danger, and informs him he
is close to the garden of Orgagna. Orlando is delighted at the
intelligence, and entreats her to inform him how he is to procure
admittance.

She promises him full instructions; and, as the first of these,
tells him he must keep himself chaste for three days, previous to
attempting the adventure, if he would preserve himself from being
devoured by the dragon, who guards the gate. She then says she
will give him a book, in which he will find painted the garden and
all it contains, together with the palace of the false
enchantress, which she had only entered the day before, for the
purpose of executing a magic work in which she was engaged.

This, which was the manufacture of a sword, capable of cutting
through even enchanted substances, she only pursued on moonless
nights. The object of this labour was the destruction of a knight
of the west, hight Orlando; who, she had read in the book of Fate,
was destined to demolish her garden. To this, the damsel adds,
that the garden can only be entered at sunrise; and, having
presented him with a book of instructions, departs.

Orlando, who finds he must delay his enterprize till the next
morning, now lies down, and is soon asleep. In the mean time,
Origilla, who was still with him, meditated her escape, in order
to rejoin Gryphon; and yielding to the impulse of her evil nature,
was about to slay Orlando with his own sword, which she had drawn
for the purpose. Afraid, however, to execute her design, she
mounts Brigliadoro, and gallops off, carrying away Durindana.

Orlando wakes, in such indignation as may be supposed, on the
discovery of the theft; but, like a good knight and true, is not
to be diverted from his enterprise. He tears off a huge branch of
elm to supply the place of his sword, and, the sun rising, takes
his way towards the eastern gate, where the dragon was on his
watch.

This he slays by repeated blows upon the spine; but finds that the
wall of the enchanted garden, which he had entered, was closed
upon him. Looking round him, he saw a fair fountain of water,
which overflowed into a river, and in the centre of the fountain
was a figure, on whose forehead was written,

        "The stream which waters violet and rose,
        "From hence to the enchanted palace flows."

Following the banks of this flowery stream, and rapt in the
delights of the delicious garden, Orlando arrives at the palace,
and entering it, finds the mistress, clad in white, and with a
crown of gold upon her head, in the act of viewing herself in the
surface of the fatal sword. He surprises her before she can
escape, deprives her of the weapon, and holding her fast by her
long hair, which floated behind, threatens her with immediate
death if she does not instruct him in the means of retreat.

Falerina, however, was firm of purpose, and refused. Hence
Orlando, being unable to move her either by threats or kindness,
was under the necessity of binding her to a beech. Having thus
secured his prisoner, he renewed his questions, but she still
refused to point out the gate of the garden.

He now bethinks him of his book, and consulting it, finds there is
an entrance to the south but that it is watched by a bull, with
one horn of iron, and another of flame.

Moreover, before arriving at this, there is another impediment: a
lake is to be passed, pregnant with new danger; but to provide
against this, he is instructed by his book. According to its
directions,

        *        *        *        *
        *        *        *        *
        He, still his path pursuing, gathers posies
        Of flowers, which every where about him spring.
        And filling well his casque and ears with roses,
        Lists if he hears the birds in green-wood sing:
        He sees the gaping beak, the swelling throat,
        And ruffled plumes, but cannot catch a note.

Having thus proved the force of his defence, he proceeds towards
the lake, which was small but deep; and so clear and tranquil,
that the eye could penetrate to the bottom.

He is no sooner arrived upon the banks, than the waters are seen
to gurgle; and a syren, rising midway out of the pool, sings so
sweetly, that birds and beasts troop to the water-side, attracted
by her song. Of this the count hears nothing; but feigning to
yield to the charm, sinks down beside the water; from which the
syren issues with the intent to accomplish his destruction.
Orlando, however, seizes her by the hair, and, while singing yet
louder (song being her only defence), cuts off her head, and (so
instructed by the book) stains himself all over with her blood.

Having done this as a protection against the horns of the bull,
and taken the roses from his helmet and ears, he proceeds towards
the southern gate.

Here he is encountered by the bull, whose horn of iron he severs
at a stroke. His horn of flame was however yet left, and by this
Orlando, but for the virtue of the syren's blood, would have been
consumed. Guarded by this, he pursues his advantage, and at last
slaughters his enemy. The bull is, however, no sooner slain, than
the gate, of which he is the guardian, disappears, the wall
closes, and Orlando again finds himself a prisoner, without the
means of escape.

Again resorting to his book, he finds that another river, running
westward, leads to a gate formed of jewels, which is kept by an
enchanted ass.

Taking his course towards this, he arrives at a tree of surprising
height, and again consulting his book, razes off his crest, and
makes a penthouse of his shield for the protection of his sight.
Covering himself with it, he advances with his eyes fixed upon the
ground, towards the miraculous tree.

On approaching it, a harpy with a beautiful female head, and
crowned with strangely coloured plumes, flutters out from the
branches, and hovering above the count, squirts her ordure at his
head. This is fortunately protected by his shield, on which it
hisses like boiling oil. Orlando, distracted by the yells of the
harpy, is often tempted to raise his eyes: he however perseveres
in keeping them fixed to the ground till he is near the tree, when
he falls, as if blinded by the burning liquor. The bird now swoops
to the ground, and having darted her talons into his breast-plate,
attempts to drag him towards the trunk. The count sees his time is
come, and dispatches her with a back-handed stroke of his sword.

The harpy demolished, he re-adjusted his crest, the gift of
Angelica, braced his shield anew, and took his way towards the
western gate. Nothing was ever seen more beautiful than this, with
respect to the materials, or the workmanship. Nor was the animal
who kept it less extraordinary; being an ass, armed with scales of
gold, and ears of such length and strength, as to be able to
seize, and drag to himself by the aid of them, whatever was within
his reach; his tail cut like a trenchant sword, and his bray made
the forest tremble.

Though his golden scales had resisted all other weapons, they were
not impenetrable by Orlando's steel, and he smote off his head at
a blow.

A strange wonder followed; the earth swallowed the carcase of the
ass, this gate too disappeared, and the walls again closed upon
Orlando.

He is now directed by his instructions to a a northern entrance,
and, strong in patience, proceeds in this direction. On his way
thither he sees a table spread in the wilderness. He is tempted by
the viands; but recurring to the book, is informed of his danger,
and refrains.

From this he learns that a faun lay conceale amongst the
neighbouring thorns and roses, provided with a chain, with which
she snared whoever tasted of the banquet. She fled from Orlando on
his approaching her haunt, dragging after her a serpent's tail,
till then concealed, which was as loathsome as her face was
lovely. Being overtaken, she made no defence and was slaughtered
at a blow.

The count now arrives at the northern gate, which he finds guarded
by a giant. Orlando had so often been engaged with enemies of this
description, that he thought little of the combat in which he was
going to engage. In effect, his expectations were in part
justified, as he slew his adversary. This was, however, but the
beginning of his labour; for, from the blood of the slaughtered
enemy sprang a fire, and from this issued two other giants yet
fiercer than the first. Orlando sees that to spill the blood of
these, would be but to multiply his foes, and accordingly,
changing his mode of proceeding, grapples with one of the two in
the hopes of squeezing him to death. He is, however, still
interrupted by the other, before he can accomplish his purpose;
and at last sees the necessity of separating them.

To effect this, he feigns to fly, but the giants, instead of
pursuing, return to keep guard over the enchanted gate. If,
however, Orlando was disappointed in his hope of dividing them,
his stratagem was productive of another advantage. He saw the
chain lying on the ground, which was spread for his destruction by
the faun. Returning with this, he nooses the giants and then again
recurs to the book for his future proceedings.

This informs him, that the total destruction of the garden (the
task imposed by Angelica) can only be accomplished by tearing off
a certain branch of a lofty tree, in which was involved the
destiny of this fairy creation.

According to the rules which he received, he returned through a
spacious valley towards the palace, passing Falerina, whom he had
left fastened to the beech. He soon descries the fatal tree, which
is of an immeasurable height: while the stem, even at the bottom,
is no more than a palm in girt.

        No thicker; but from this close branch and spray
        Bristled, whence foliage green and narrow grew.
        The leaves which died and sprouted every day,
        Conceal'd within sharp pointed thorns from view:
        Apples of gold the loaded twigs display;
        Apples in form, but burnish'd gold in hue.
        Suspended from small stalks, so slight in show.
        The man had periled life who walked below.

To obviate this danger (and we are afterwards told that the fruit
was as large as the human head), Orlando forms a sort of grating
of boughs of trees, and, under cover of this, proceeds towards the
tree, amidst a shower of the golden apples, which fall, loosened
by the vibration of the soil beneath his feet. Having reached it,
he severs the trunk close to the root, and every thing is
instantly involved in darkness.

The cloud at length clears away, and the sun shines forth upon a
wild landscape; where no vestige is to be seen of the garden, or
trace of the adventure, except in the appearance of the fairy
Falerina, who remains in the middle of the wilderness, fastened to
the beech.

Her tone is now changed, and she entreats Orlando's mercy,
assuring him that many lives depend upon the preservation of hers.
She explains herself by saying, that she had constructed the
garden and a neighbouring snare in a bridge over a torrent, in
order to be revenged on a knight called Ariantes, and an infamous
woman of the name of Origilla, who, though many had fallen into
her toils, had both hitherto escaped.

"Many," pursues the fairy, "were entrapped in my garden, and yet
more at the bridge; and here it was that I took a certain
enchantress, daughter of king Galaphron, who by some secret means
escaped, and effected the deliverance of her fellow prisoners.
Many more, however, have been taken since, and all these will
perish, if you are resolved on my destruction." Orlando
immediately promised her life, upon her pledging herself for the
deliverance of the captives.

With this view they proceed together, towards the bridge; but the
author snaps this thread, to take up that of the story of
Albracca.

Here Sacripant and Marphisa were left engaged in a single combat,
which was still continued with mutual animosity; while Angelica,
surrounded by a group of warriors, sate contemplating the fight
from the ramparts of the citadel. While the attention of all was
thus engaged, Brunello, who (it will be remembered) had undertaken
to steal Angelica's ring, arrived beneath the walls of Albracca,
scaled the rock and walls of the fortress, while the crowd was
watching the duel, and disputing on its probable result,
approached the princess unobserved, and, slipping the ring from
her finger, escaped amid the confusion which followed.

Having descended safely to the ground, and swam a water by which
the citadel was surrounded, the dwarf perceived that the two
combatants had separated for an interval of repose, and
immediately meditated a new exercise of his art. With this view,
he approached Sacripant, who, absorbed in an amorous reverie, sate
apart, upon his courser, and having first loosened the girths, and
supported the saddle by a piece of wood, withdrew the horse from
under him.*

* The reader will recollect the imitation of this absurd incident
in "Don Quixote," whose squire's ass, Dapple, is stolen in a
similar manner.

Marphisa, who was at a little distance, witnessed this with
wonder, and, before she recovered from her astonishment, was
herself plundered of her sword. Marphisa is no sooner aware of the
theft, than she pursues the robber; but he, mounted upon
Frontilatte, his new acquisition, soon distances the pursuer.

While Angelica, who felt her misfortune yet more than the others,
is in despair at the loss of her treasure, an alarm is given by
the warder, who reports the arrival of a new army before Albracca.
This was a Turkish force, led by Caramano, brother of Torindo, one
of the princes who had been seized and imprisoned by Truffaldino,
and who, having refused to enter into the engagement to which the
others agreed, on his delivering them from durance, now brought
this brother against Albracca.

Angelica's last hopes of deliverance rest upon Gradasso; who, it
seems, was her relation, and who was meditating anew the invasion
of France. Hence Sacripant undertakes a secret embassy to this
prince, with the view of soliciting his succour.

Rodomont, this while, who was too impatient to wait for
_Agramant's_ attack upon Charlemagne, had already sailed for
France. A tremendous storm wrecked his fleet upon the coast of
that kingdom; but he, landing with such force as the tempest had
left him, made good his footing, and routed the Christians in more
engagements than one: though the balance at last turned in their
favour.

Previous, however, to this, Gano, or Ganelon, (as he is sometimes
called) enters into a traitorous correspondence with Marsilius,
whom he invites into France.

While great events are preparing in this quarter, the author
resumes the story of Orlando, who was journeying with Falerina
towards the bridge, where so many prisoners were entrapped. On
their way thither, however, they arrived at a yet more perilous
pass: this was the bridge, and lake into which the felon warrior
leaped with Rinaldo in his arms. Falerina, enchantress as she was,
turned pale at the sight of this place, and cursed the hour in
which they had taken the road which conducted them thither;
informing Orlando that they were approaching a snare, laid by
Morgana; who plotted revenge against a knight who had destroyed
many of her spells, and set at nought her riches and her power.

For this purpose she had formed the lake; and selected, as a
defender of the pass, a man named Arridano, a churl of the most
ferocious and pitiless character she could find. Him she had
clothed in invulnerable arms, and charmed in such a manner, that
his strength always increased in a six-fold proportion to that of
the adversary with whom he was matched. Hence, no one had hitherto
escaped from the contest; since, such was his strength and power
of endurance, that he could breathe freely under water. Hence,
having grappled with a knight, and sunk with him to the bottom of
the lake, he returned, bearing his arms in triumph to the top.

While Falerina is explaining the danger of the enterprise, Orlando
sees Rinaldo's arms, erected in form of a trophy, amongst other
spoils made by the villain; and forgetting their late quarrel,
determines upon revenging his friend. A desperate contest ensues
between the churl and the knight, during which Falerina flies. The
combatants (as in the case of Rinaldo) both grapple, and sink
together in the water. Arrived at the bottom, Orlando finds
himself in another world, upon a dry meadow, with the lake
overhead, through which shone the beams of our sun; the meadow
being on all sides surrounded by a crystal wall. Here the battle
was renewed, and in this Orlando had an advantage, which none had
hitherto possessed. Besides that he was himself invulnerable, he
was now in possession of the sword, tempered by Falerina, against
which no spells could avail. Thus armed, and countervailing the
strength of his adversary by his superior skill and activity, he
had the good fortune to lay him dead upon the field.

Orlando having slain his foe, discovers a gate in the crystal
wall; and having passed through a dark labyrinth, comes at last
where it is lighted by a carbuncle, whose lustre was equal to that
of day. This discovered to his view a river little less than
twenty-yards over, and beyond this was seen a field as thickly
covered with precious stones as the sky is full of stars.

Over this was thrown a bridge, only half a palm wide, and at each
end was stationed an iron figure with a mace. Orlando no sooner
attempted to pass this, than the figures smote upon it, and it was
instantly engulphed in the stream. Orlando however, being resolved
to accomplish the adventure or perish in the attempt, leapt the
river and arrived in the field, which contained the treasures of
the fairy.

When he had arrived at the other extremity of this, he entered a
building, where he beheld the likeness of a king, surrounded by
his peers, and encompassed by all the pomp and magnificence of
royalty. The monarch appeared to be seated at a banquet, with a
naked sword suspended over his head, and on the table before him
was a live coal, supported on a golden lily, which gave light to
the apartment. On his left stood a figure with a bended bow in
guise of one who waits the crossing of the stag; and on the right,
the form of one, who, from his likeness to the king, appeared to
be his brother, and who bore in one hand a writing illustrative of
the vanity of his worldly pursuits.

The troubled countenance of the king seemed to bear witness to the
truth of the inscription; and Orlando, having satisfied his
curiosity, departed through the door opposite to that by which he
had entered. He was however no sooner out of the apartment, than
all was darkness.

After wandering for some time at random, he bethought himself of
the coal, which was burning before the king, and returned in order
to take it. He had however no sooner laid his hand upon this, than
the archer let fly his arrow, which extinguished it, and night
followed. This was rendered terrible by an earthquake, which shook
the world to its centre. The earthquake at last ceased, the light
rekindled of itself, and all was as before. Again Orlando issued
through the dark passage, again was compelled to return in search
of the coal, and again witnessed the same effect.

A third attempt was more successful: he intercepted the arrow with
his shield, and carried off the light in safety. Using this as a
lamp, Orlando arrived where the way divided; and turning to the
left, instead of the right (which would have conducted him out of
the building) took the road which led to the dungeons of Morgana.
Here were imprisoned Rinaldo, Dudon, Brandimart, and others who
had fallen into the power of Morgana; but the count did not
immediately arrive at their place of confinement. Still guiding
himself by his light, he came to a cleft in the rock, through
which he passed into a flowery meadow, planted with trees covered
with fruit and flowers, and full of all imaginable delights.

In the middle of this was a fountain, and fast by it lay Morgana
asleep; a lady of a lovely aspect, dressed in white and vermilion
garments; her forehead well furnished with hair, but with scarcely
any behind.

While Orlando stood in silence, contemplating her beauty, he heard
a voice exclaim, "Seize the fairy by the forelock if thou hopest
fair success;" Orlando turning, and advancing in the direction
from which the voice came, discovered a prison of crystal in which
he beheld the captives of Morgana.

At the sight of these, he raised his sabre to smite the wall; but
was advertised by a female prisoner that all attempts to release
them would only be productive of new misery to those he sought to
benefit, unless he could take Morgana herself, and force from her
the keys of their prison-house.

Thus admonished, he returned towards the fountain. But the fairy,
who was awake and risen, was now dancing round its border with the
lightness of a leaf, and timing her steps to the following song:

        "Who in this world would wealth and treasure share,
        "Honour, delight, and state, and what is best,
        "Quick let him catch me by the lock of hair
        "Which flutters from my forehead, and be blest;
        "But let him not the proffered good forbear,
        "Nor, till he seize the fleeting blessing, rest.
        "For present loss is sought in vain to-morrow,
        "And the deluded wretch is left in sorrow."

The fairy, however, no sooner set eyes on the count, than she
bounded off, and fled from the flowery meadow over a high and
inhospitable mountain. Orlando pursued her through thorns and
rocks, though the sky, on her gaining this dreary scene, became
overcast, and he was assailed by tempest, lightning and hail.

While Orlando thus pursues, enveloped in storm, a pale and meagre
woman issues from a cave, armed with a whip, and treading close
upon the pursuer, scourges him, till his skin is raised in
furrows. She informs him, while she inflicts this discipline, that
she is Penitence, and sent to punish him for having neglected to
seize Morgana, when he found her sleeping by the fountain.
Orlando, determined to resist this chastisement, turns upon his
tormentor; but might as well seek to wound the wind. Convinced at
last of the shadowy nature of his persecutor, and observing that
Morgana gained upon him, while he was thus hopelessly engaged, he
determines to pursue the fairy without being diverted by the
molestation of Penitence.

Chasing Morgana, then, over rock and hill, he made sundry snatches
at her white and vermilion garments, which still eluded his grasp.
On the fairy, however, turning her head for an instant, he
profited by the chance, and seized her by the forelock. In an
instant the tempest ceased, the sky became serene, and Penitence
retreated into her cave.

Orlando now demanded of Morgana the keys of her dungeon; and the
fairy, feigning a complacent aspect, told him that these were at
his disposal; entreating him, though he should free all her other
prisoners, to leave her a youthful son of Monodontes, who was her
darling. Orlando consented to this, and the fairy delivered up a
key of silver, bidding him be cautious in the use of it; since, to
break the lock, would be to involve himself and all, in inevitable
destruction; a caution which gave the count room for long
meditation, and led him to consider

        How few amid the suitors, who importune
        The dame, know how to guide the keys of Fortune.

Keeping the fairy still fast by the forelock, Orlando proceeded
towards the prison, turned the key without occasioning the
mischief apprehended, and delivered the prisoners.

Amongst these were Brandimart, Rinaldo, and all the knights,
baptized or infidel, who had been taken at the bridge. The only
unhappy person amid this joyous band was Ziliantes, the minion of
Morgana. This youth remained behind weeping; and time will come,
says the author, when Orlando will repent of having yielded to the
entreaties of the fairy.

The others, now delivered from their captivity, together with
Orlando, ascending a lofty stair issued into the field of
treasure, where was to be seen the king and his court, all
composed of the richest materials in the world. Rinaldo, on
finding himself amid this mass of wealth, could not resist the
temptation of seizing a gold seat that stood in his way, which, he
observed, would feed his hungry garrison of Mont Albano. This he
was bearing off, notwithstanding the remonstrances of Orlando,
when a violent wind blew him back as often as he approached the
gate, by which they were retiring. Rinaldo at length yielded to
necessity, rather than to the entreaties of his comrades, and cast
away his prize. All now climbing another immeasurable stair,
ascended into the upper world, and found themselves in the field
decorated with their arms.

Here each knight resumed his own; and all except the paladins and
their friends, separated, as their inclinations or duty prompted.
It was now that Dudon informed the cousins that he had been made
prisoner by Morgana, when in the discharge of an embassy to them
from Charlemagne, who called upon them to return to the defence of
Christendom. Orlando is too much fascinated by Angelica, to obey
this summons; and, followed by the faithful Brandimart, returns
towards Albracca. Rinaldo, accompanied by Dudon, Iroldo and
Prasildo, takes his way towards the west.

These, though unprovided with horses, (for their coursers were
lost at the bridge,) went laughing and talking on their way. Their
journey was without adventures till the sixth day, when they heard
a horn sound from a neighbouring castle. From this they were
divided by a river, and near the opposite bank was a small bark,
with a damsel in the stern, who proffered them a passage.

Arrived on the other shore, she tells them they must account for
this with the warder, who was then approaching. This was an old
man mounted on a heavy steed, and surrounded by a numerous escort.
He informs the knights, that they are upon the territory of the
king Monodontes, from which they will not be suffered to depart,
before they have rendered him a day's service. This was to avenge
him of a certain enemy named Balisardo, at once a giant and
enchanter, who kept a bridge, flanked with towers, near the mouth
of the river which they had crossed, and who had put many scorns
upon that monarch and those who travelled to his realm.

Nothing more agreeable could have been proposed to the warriors,
and they reimbark in the damsel's skiff for the purpose of seeking
the necromancer.

The event of the combat was, however, very different from what
they had anticipated. Encountering the giant singly, they all
became the victims of his enchantments, and were cast into his
dungeons, already peopled with illustrious knights, amongst whom
was Astolpho of England.

This prince, in company with the two damsels before mentioned, had
gone about the world, with Bayardo and Rabican, weeping the loss
of Rinaldo, whom he saw go to the bottom of the enchanted lake
with Arridano. Wandering thence, he had arrived on the same spot
where Rinaldo and his comrades afterwards found themselves; like
them he had ferried the river in the damsel's boat, like them, had
been dispatched against Balisardo; and, like them, had been made
prisoner by the wizard, who ensnared him, under the form of a
damsel.

In the mean time, Orlando, who had parted company with Rinaldo,
and the rest, was returning, with Brandimart, towards Albracca On
his way thither he, to his surprise, saw Marphisa in chase of
Brunello, and contemplating the two, was himself robbed of his
horn, and Balisarda.

As both he and Brandimart were on foot, to chase the robber was
useless; leaving, therefore, Marphisa still in pursuit, the two
warriors proceeded on their way. Pursuing this, they too arrived
at the same ferry as Rinaldo had, and there found two damsels
assailing each other with reproaches, the one in a boat, and the
other on horseback. Orlando immediately recognized the latter for
Origilla, who had stolen Brigliadoro and Durindana, previous to
his entering the garden of Orgagna. His resentment, however, was
forgotten on seeing her; and he received her again into his
company, embarking, as the others had done, for the adventure of
Balisardo.

In this his usual fortune deserted him, and having been vanquished
by the enchantments of the giant, he was cast on board a miserable
prison-ship, in order to be transported to some distant dungeons.

From this he is, however, delivered by the valour of Brandimart*,
who slays the giant, and rescues Orlando from captivity. The two
champions now interrogate the master of the prison-ship; who tells
them that the wizard-giant was the instrument of a certain king,
called Monodontes, who dwelt in Damogir, an island situated in the
ocean; where he had amassed riches, which surpassed the
imagination to conceive. As, something is always wanting to the
completion of human happiness, this prince was miserable in the
loss of his two only sons, the first of whom was carried off, in
his childhood, by a slave of the name of Bardino, and the second
taken and imprisoned by a fairy named Morgana, who was said to be
enamoured of the youth.

* The reader will have remarked that a vein of allegory, more or
less apparent, runs through the whole of the romance. This
observation will, perhaps, serve to explain the defeat of Orlando,
and the subsequent triumph of Brandimart. Orlando, by his love of
vice, as figured in Origilla, has derogated from his natural self,
and forfeited the protection of Providence, while Brandimart, the
model of purity and constancy, is proof against all the powers of
hell.

The ship-master, pursuing his story, stated that the fairy had
offered to surrender the stripling to his father, upon his putting
her in possession of a certain knight, entitled Orlando, with whom
she was at enmity, on account of his having destroyed her
enchantments. This the necromancer, overcome by Brandimart, had
offered to effect for Monodontes, but had never succeeded, though
he had crowded his dungeons with champions; amongst whom were
Rinaldo, Astolpho, Dudon, Gryphon and Aquilant, and others, too
many to mention.

Orlando listened to the narration in silence: then, after some
secret conference with the ship-master, bade him make sail for
Damogir, as he and Brandimart were now masters of the vessel, for
he was minded to put this Orlando into the hands of Monodontes. He
obeys his command, and the ship, after traversing the ocean,
arrives with them at the island.

Here the proposal was renewed by the knights, and accepted by
Monodontes; who, waiting the accomplishment of their promise,
lodged them in a magnificent palace near his own. Here too was
guested the infamous Origilla, who was privy to Orlando's design.
She having her mind entirely set upon Gryphon, who (it will be
remembered) was amongst the prisoners of Monodontes, and thinking
she was possessed of sure means of delivering him, secretly
presented herself before the king, and informed him that Orlando
was in his power.

As the covenanted reward of her service, Monodontes ordered
Gryphon to be delivered up to her; and he refusing freedom, unless
Aquilant was at the same time freed, both were set at liberty, and
departed with Origilla.

To take Orlando was a more difficult enterprise; but this was
accomplished through the means of a potion, by which both he and
Brandimart were put to sleep, and, while stupefied by the liquor,
lodged in the dungeons of Monodontes. In the solitude of their
prison Orlando converts Brandimart to the Christian faith; and
this knight, who appears to be the type of friendship and virtuous
love, upon the guards of the monarch coming in search of Orlando,
announces himself as the person sought for, and as such presents
himself to Monodontes.

This monarch tells Brandimart, whom he imagines to be Orlando,
that he seeks the liberation of his son Ziliantes; and as he knows
no method of obtaining him from the fairy, but by such a
sacrifice, is reluctantly compelled to offer him in exchange for
the royal captive. To which Brandimart replies, that if he only
seeks this, he may obtain his end without such a breach of
hospitality, as his comrade is ready to descend to the dungeons of
Morgana, where he has already been, and rescue him by force. That
in the meantime he will remain as his hostage, and if he whom he
is to free does not, within a month, return with Ziliantes, the
king can, at the worst, accomplish the deliverance of his son, by
giving him up (the king believing him to be Orlando) to the
vengeance of Morgana.

Monodontes accedes to this proposal, and the real Orlando is
suffered to depart.

In the meantime Brandimart, always under the name of Orlando,
remains for some time a prisoner at large; when the secret is
discovered, through the indiscretion of Astolpho, and Monodontes
in fury orders Brandimart to be cast into a dungeon, preparatory
to his expiating his imposture by death. Orlando this while is
bound upon his adventure, and arriving at the lake formerly kept
by Arridano, finds upon its banks a beautiful lady weeping over a
dead dragon.

While Orlando contemplates this spectacle with surprise, the lady
snatches up the dragon in her arms, and embarks with it in a
little pinnace, which was moored hard by. She now loosens from the
shore, sets her sail, and having reached the middle of the lake,
sinks to the bottom with her enchanted barque.

Orlando was yet absorbed in wonder at what he had witnessed, when
another damsel arrived upon the bank, mounted on a palfrey, and
accompanied by a single sergeant, who called upon the count by
name, and expressed the greatest pleasure at his sight.

This damsel was no other than Flordelis, the lady-love of
Brandimart; the damsel of the barque, it will be easily divined,
was Morgana.

This fairy, upon the departure of Orlando from her enchanted
garden, transformed Ziliantes, by the aid of certain witcheries,
into a dragon, meaning that he should supply the place of Arridano
and keep the avenues of her territory. Whether, however, from some
error in her enchantments or other cause, the transformation was
no sooner completed than the youth uttered a shriek and expired.
Hence the fairy, distracted with her loss, had embarked with him
in the pinnace, and descended to the bottom of the lake, in the
hope of re-animating him in her world below.

As soon as Flordelis, who was immediately recognised by the count,
had set eyes upon him, she conjured him to lend her his
assistance; and, that he might understand for what purpose,
entreated him to listen to her story, which she began in the
following words.

"I was wandering in search of Brandimart, when I fell in with the
sergeant, whom you see with me; and who, by a strange fortune,
turned out to be one who was also in search of him. His story was
yet more extraordinary than the accident which brought us
together, and is the cause of my present distress. He informed me
that he was formerly a slave of the king Monodontes, and named
Bardino; who, to avenge himself upon the monarch for some wrong,
conveyed away from him his eldest son, and sold him to the lord of
the Sylvan Tower; who conceived such fondness for him, that he
brought him up as his son, and dying, left him his possessions.

"His love of arms, however, carried him away from the Tower, of
which he had made Bardino castellan; and this was attacked by a
neighbour named Rupardo, in his absence, with such forces as
rendered a defence hopeless. Under these circumstances Bardino,
had cast lots to learn the fate of Brandimart, and found that he
was prisoner to Morgana. Hence it is," pursued the damsel, "that I
entreat you to lend your assistance to recover him from her
power."

Orlando related in return what had since happened to Brandimart,
and, lastly, how he had left him in the power of Monodontes,
meaning to redeem him, by the recovery of Ziliantes, from the
prisons of Morgana.

The damsel heard Orlando's recital with gratitude, and, throwing
herself on her knees, prayed devoutly for the success of his
undertaking.

He immediately entered upon his adventure. Descending by the
entrance, through which he had formerly ascended into the upper
air, and which he remembered, though concealed by briars and
thorns, he again traversed the field of treasure, and saw the
golden seat, lying in the very place where Rinaldo had been
obliged to abandon it.

Thus pursuing his old path, he came upon Morgana near the
fountain, where he had formerly found her disporting herself.

She was this time engaged in a very different occupation, and was
caressing Ziliantes, who had now resumed the human form, but
remained yet pale, and terrified by the effects of the
metamorphose. The count does not again neglect his opportunity,
but, seizing the fairy by the forelock, compels her to abandon her
prisoner. Orlando returning into light with Ziliantes by the
ancient staircase, finds Flordelis yet engaged in prayer, and now
all journeying to the coast, which was near, and embarking upon
the ocean, arrive safely at Damogir.

The delight of Monodontes at the recovery of his two sons, when he
had despaired of even retrieving Ziliantes, may be easily
imagined: king and people become Christians; Rinaldo, Astolpho,
Dudon, and the other prisoners are set at liberty; all is
festivity, and the offence of Bardino is forgiven, in consequence
of his subsequent attachment to Brandimart. To complete the
general joy, a lady arrives at this period, who is recognized as
the daughter of Monodontes and the damsel of the golden apples.

But human life is chequered by light and shade. The long continued
festivities of Damogir are broken in upon by Dudon the Dane, who
reminds the princes of their obligation to hurry to the defence of
Christendom.

Rinaldo and all the Franks obey the summons, with the exception of
Orlando; who, accompanied by Brandimart, his inseparable
companion, returns towards Albracca. In the meantime Rinaldo,
Iroldo, Prasildo, and the others, with Astolpho in the midst,
armed with his lance of gold, set forward on their return to
France.

Travelling thus, north about, into Europe, the knights found
themselves one morning in front of a beautiful castle and garden
on the sea-shore. This was the domain of Alcina, sister of
Morgana, and queen of the Atarberi. The fay herself was standing
on the beach, and amusing herself with taking fish, which she
inveigled by her enchantments.

She herself was ensnared by the beauties of Astolpho, whom she
invited to pass into a neighbouring island, in order to hear the
music of a syren who frequented it.

Astolpho crosses on horseback into the island, which lay close to
the shore; but this is in motion as soon as he reaches it, and
proves to be a large whale, which was a minister of the fairy.
Rinaldo and Dudon instantly swim off to his assistance, but the
horse of Dudon sinking with his rider, Rinaldo is compelled to
swim Bayardo to the relief of the Dane, whom he succeeds in
bringing to shore. Meantime the whale floats out of sight, and a
terrible tempest obscures both sky and ocean

To succour Astolpho was now impossible, and the confederated
champions continued their journey to the westward.

Pursuing this, they at last arrived at Buda in Hungary, whence the
king of that country was dispatching his son Ottachiero with a
large army to the succour of Charlemagne. Delighted with the
arrival of Rinaldo, he placed his son and troops under this
conduct, and these having, after long and distant marches, united
themselves with the troops of Desiderius king of Lombardy, passed
the Genovese Alps, and poured down into Provence.

The confederate armies had not marched many days through this gay
tract, before they heard a crash of drums and trumpets behind the
hills, which spoke the conflict between the paynims, led by
Rodomont, and the Christian forces.

Rinaldo, witnessing from a mountain the prowess of Rodomont,
leaves his troops in charge of his friends, and gallops towards
him with his lance in the rest. The impulse is irresistible, and
Rodomont is unhorsed. Rinaldo, however, in a high spirit of
chivalry, gallops back to the hill from which he had descended,
secures Bayardo amongst the baggage, and returns to pursue the
combat with his former antagonist on foot.

During this interval the battle had become general, the Hungarians
were routed by Rodomont, and Rinaldo, on his return, had the
mortification to find that Ottachiero was wounded, and Dudon a
prisoner.

He now again engages Rodomont; when in the midst of their strife,
a new sound of drums and trumpets was heard, and the army of
Charlemagne was descried advancing in battalia.

Rodomont, who had in the meantime mounted the horse of Dudon,
leaves Rinaldo, who was on foot, and gallops to the attack of the
enemy. A desperate battle ensues, but night separates the
combatants.

Rodomont now thinks only of Rinaldo, and deceived by a false
report, sets off in pursuit of him towards the forest of Arden.

Rinaldo, however, having this time gone in search of Bayardo, was
returning towards the field upon that courser, when he fell in
with the Saracens, engaged in carrying aboard their ships the
plunder, and the prisoners made in battle. Some of these had
already sailed for Africa with Dudon, while Rinaldo, still seeking
Rodomont, makes a tremendous carnage among the rest.

He at last learns that his adversary, following a false scent, is
gone towards Merlin's fountain, in the forest of Arden, when he
quits the pursuit of the Saracens, in order to follow him.

Rodomont was in the meantime far advanced upon his way, when he
fell in with a strange cavalier, that proved to be Ferrau, who
had, it seems, returned to France, in search of Angelica. The two
knights mixing in conversation, their talk, according to the
practice of chivalry, turned upon love, when Ferrau spoke of
Doralice, daughter of Stordilano, king of Granada, as a lady to
whom he had been a suitor. Rodomont, kindling at this, avowed his
passion for her, declared he would bear with no rival in his love,
and bade him resign all pretensions to her, or take his ground and
defend himself. Ferrau replied, that he had loved her and left
her; but that he would now love her in his despite.

A duel ensues, but the author leaves the knights engaged, in order
to pursue the story of Rinaldo. He, still seeking his pursuer,
Rodomont, misses him, whilst he is engaged in combat with Ferrau;
and wandering into a sylvan lawn, in the middle of the forest of
Arden, is surprised by the vision of a beautiful child, dancing
naked, with three damsels, as naked and as beautiful as himself.
While he is lost in admiration at the sight, the child approaches
him, and smiting on his helmet with a bunch of roses and lilies,
strikes him from his horse. He is no sooner down than he is seized
by the dancers, by whom he is dragged about and scourged with
flowers till he falls into a swoon. While he is yet absorbed in
this, one of the group approaches him, who says her name is
Pasiphae; that his punishment is the consequence of his rebellion
against that power, before whom every thing bends; and that there
is but one remedy that can heal the wounds which have been
inflicted; and this is, to drink of the waters of Love.

Rinaldo, sore and faint, drags himself into the neighbouring wood,
and being parched with thirst, drinks greedily, and almost
unconsciously, of a spring which he finds there. After repeated
draughts of the water, which is sweet to the taste, but bitter at
the heart, he recovers his strength and recollection, and finds
himself in the same place where Angelica had formerly awakened him
with a rain of flowers, and whence he had fled in contempt of her
courtesy.

His remembrance of the scene is followed by the recognition of his
crime; and, repenting bitterly of his ingratitude, he leaps upon
Bayardo with the intention of following Angelica to India, and
soliciting his pardon at her feet. He has not ridden far with this
intention, when he beholds, at a distance, a damsel mounted upon a
palfrey, attended by a cavalier who bore a burning mountain for
his device: but, before explaining who were the damsel and knight,
the author returns to Marphisa, lately left in pursuit of
Brunello.

She had now hunted him for fifteen days. Her horse had sunk under
her during the chase; and she had cast away her arms, to be the
better able to pursue him.

Her pains were thrown away. Brunello arrived before her at the
sea-side, and finding a vessel ready to sail, embarked, and
arrived at Biserta, in Africa. Here he found Agramant, who was
impatient for the ring, which was to foil the enchantments of
Atlantes and to put Rogero into his hands. The dwarf, now kneeling
before the king, related his story, and presented him with the
ring of Angelica, and the horn stolen from Orlando; when Agramant,
delighted at the success of his mission, crowned him, in
recompense, king of Tingitana.

All are now anxious to go in quest of Rogero, nor will Brunello be
left behind. The cavalcade accordingly departs, and having
traversed the Great Desert, arrives at the mountain of Carena.

At the bottom of this was a fruitful and well-wooded plain,
watered by a large river, which traversed it in its way to the
sea; and from this plain was descried a beautiful garden on the
mountain-top, which contained the mansion of Atlantes: but the
ring, which discovered what was before invisible, could not,
though it revealed this paradise, enable Agramant or his followers
to enter it. So steep and smooth was the rock by nature, that none
could scale it; and even Brunello was obliged to renounce the
attempt. He did not, however, for this, despair of accomplishing
the object of the enterprise; and, having obtained Agramant's
approbation, caused the assembled courtiers and knights to
celebrate a tournament upon the plain below. This was done with
the view of seducing Rogero from his fastness, and the stratagem
was attended with success.

Rogero joins the tourney, presented by Brunello with Sacripant's
horse, Frontilatte, (whose name is afterwards changed into
Frontino,) and with Balisarda, the sword of Orlando. In the medley
he is treacherously wounded, but avenges himself of the traitor;
and, returning to the summit of the mountain, is healed by the
skill and attention of Atlantes, having previously learned from
Brunello the preparations which were making for the invasion of
France, and having indeed received his horse and arms, as an
earnest for his service in the expedition.

The author now leaves him again on the mountain of Carena, to
accompany Orlando and Brandimart.

These two, having separated from Rinaldo, Astolpho, and the rest,
were pursuing their journey through India, when they found
themselves near a stone, situated by a fountain, where sate a
lady, having her eyes fixed upon the ground, while a bridge, which
divided two roads hard by, was kept by an armed knight.

While Orlando and Brandimart were engaged in a friendly contest,
who should first encounter him, a pilgrim advanced towards the
bridge, notwithstanding the prohibition of him who kept it; and
finding that the knight approached in order to enforce his threat,
cast off his pilgrim's slough, and showed that he was armed cap-à-pe.
A fierce combat now ensued, between him and the warder of the
bridge, whom both Brandimart and Orlando thought they had seen
before, but could not recognise, through the strangeness of his
disguise. In this strife the pilgrim at last succeeded in making
the warder give ground, and retire slowly from his post.

On the other side of the bridge, and near the fountain which
formed the stream, was a monument, which an inscription proclaimed
to be the sepulchre of Narcissus.

Contemplating himself in the neighbouring fountain, he had pined
away; and his death was productive of new calamities. The fairy
Silvanella, as her evil destiny would have it, passing near the
body, fell in love with the dead youth, whom she entombed in this
mausoleum of alabaster. Here, too, consumed by hopeless passion,
_she_ perished, and left this dying curse upon the waters; that
who contemplated them should see pourtrayed there such a vision of
beauty, that they should become incapable of departing from the
place.

Many, who had arrived upon the banks of the river, in consequence
of her malediction, remained gazing upon the stream, till they
expired. Among these was the gentle king Larbino, who came there
with his leman Calidora, who remained inconsolable for his loss,
and took up her dwelling in the meadow, where he died. This is
she, who sits weeping by the water-side, and whose champion
maintains the bridge against all comers.

And such was the tale she told Orlando, whom she conjured, in
favour of her pious intentions, to aid her cavalier, hard pressed
by the pilgrim.

Orlando, moved by her prayer, thrust himself between the
combatants, whom he separated, and recognized one for Sacripant,
and the other for Isoliero. Isoliero had accompanied the lady from
Spain to India, for the purpose of rendering her this service; and
Sacripant had been dispatched (as was said) by Angelica, to king
Gradasso, for assistance, towards whose kingdom he was now upon
his way.

When the count had learned from this monarch the object of his
journey, and the peril of Angelica, he fled with Brandimart, from
the dangerous water, mindful of the fate of those that had
perished there; leaving Isoliero, who had been severely wounded by
Sacripant, in the company of Calidora.

While Orlando took his way to Albracca, Sacripant took up the
pilgrim's garb and staff, and pursued his towards the kingdom of
Gradasso.

Orlando, arriving before Albracca, finds it closely beleaguered.
He, however, makes his way into the citadel, and relates his
adventures to Angelica, from the time of his departure, up to his
separation from Rinaldo and the rest, when they departed to the
assistance of Charlemagne. Angelica, in return, described the
distresses of the garrison, and the force of the besiegers; and in
conclusion, prayed Orlando to favour her escape from the pressing
danger, and escort her into France. Orlando, who did not suspect
that love for Rinaldo, who had returned thither, was her secret
motive, joyfully agreed to the proposal, and the sally was
resolved.

Leaving lights burning in the fortress, they departed at night-fall,
and passed in safety through the enemy's camp. On the
ensuing day, however, the besiegers discovered the deceit, stormed
and sacked the citadel, and then pursued the deserters.

Of these, Orlando went first, escorting Angelica and Flordelis,
while Brandimart covered their retreat. In consequence of this
arrangement, Brandimart was separated one night from his
companions, while Orlando and the two damsels were advancing on
their way.

As these last, sorely tormented by hunger, were entering a valley
at sunset, they saw, at the other extremity, a party of
Lestrigonians, seated at their supper, and immediately galloped
towards them; Orlando first, but followed by the damsels. Arriving
amongst these cannibals, he prayed them, either for courtesy or
hire, to give them food; and, being received with a feigned
hospitality, had already dismounted from his horse, in order to
take some refreshment, when the leader of the party, coming behind
him, dealt a blow with his club, that laid him senseless on the
ground. The damsels, who had just come up, terrified at this
catastrophe, fled different ways, pursued by a party of the
Lestrigonians.

During this time, the others had stript Orlando of his arms; and
were handling him, to see if he was fat, when he was awakened by
the operation. Possessing himself of Durindana, he soon cleared
the field of the cannibals, and was seeking an outlet from the
valley, when he recognized Angelica, hunted by those who had
pursued her and Flordelis. To save her, and avenge her of the
miscreants, was the work of a moment.

It was said that the two damsels separated in their flight; in
directing which, chance conducted each towards her natural
protector; for Flordelis, flying east, whilst Angelica fled west,
galloped towards a wood, where Brandimart was sleeping, after
having long sought his companions in vain. Brandimart was as
prompt in rescuing her, as Orlando was in saving Angelica. It is
needless to describe his transports on this occasion: these were,
however, of short duration; and he heard, with the bitterest
regret, the narrative of Flordelis, who, relating what she
believed she had witnessed, informed him she had left Orlando dead
upon the field.

Returning with Brandimart towards the spot where she had left the
count, a strange adventure for a long time delayed their search;
for they had not ridden far, before they fell in with a cavalier
on foot, unarmed, except as to his sword, who defied Brandimart to
battle; and while he, in a spirit of generosity, refused the
challenge, snatched Flordelis from her palfrey, and running up a
steep rock with his burden, threatened to throw her down a
precipice, unless Brandimart ransomed her with his armour and his
steed.

As Brandimart's armour rendered it impossible for him to pursue,
he consented to the sacrifice; and the stranger appropriated the
spoils. This was Marphisa, who had thrown-by her arms, in order to
pursue Brunello, and who, finding the chace hopeless, took this
method to equip herself anew.

Brandimart, now reduced to his tunick, and deprived of his
courser, mounted the damsel's palfrey, seated her on the croup,
and proceeded on his way.

They were doomed to experience new dangers and interruptions. For
journeying thus, they fell in with a band of robbers, from whom
Brandimart fled, in the hope of finding some means of defence. His
hope was realized; for, penetrating a wood, he arrived at a
fountain, near which a king lay dead, who was armed cap-a-pe.
Providing himself with his sword, Brandimart turned to bay, and
soon made his pursuers repent of their temerity. These slain or
put to flight, he clothed himself reluctantly in the other arms of
the monarch, leaving him his crown and regal ornaments. This king
was no other than Agrican, so preserved by a visible miracle.

An after-combat with the captain of these corsairs put the knight
in possession of a steed, and thus re-equipt, he accompanied
Flordelis in search of Orlando.

This paladin, having recovered Angelica (as has been related) had
journeyed as far homeward as the sea-coast of Syria without
impediment. Here he found a vessel ready to carry the king of
Damascus, Norandino, to the island of Cyprus, where he was to make
his first essay of arms.

This was to be made for love of a lady whose name was Lucina, and
whose father, Tibiano was king of Cyprus. This sovereign had
proclaimed a tournament, of which the princess was to be the
prize, and thither went Norandino, who invited Orlando to
accompany him. The count, disguising his name and country, and
feigning himself a Circassian, called Rotolante, accepted the
offer, and, together with Angelica, joined Norandino, who was
accompanied by a brilliant train of adventurers. He was scarcely
on ship-board before a breeze sprang up from the land, and the
galley was under sail.

For the tournament which was preparing, many Greeks and many
Pagans had assembled, among whom were Basaldo and Morbeco, Turks,
and Gostanzo a Greek. This Gostanzo was the son of Vataron,
emperor of Constantinople, and had brought Gryphon and Aquilant in
his company, who, together with Origilla had sought the
hospitality of the Grecian court.

In the tourney the combatants are ranged under the banner of this
Gostanzo on the one side, and that of Norandino on the other.
Gryphon and Aquilant serve under the first, and Orlando under the
second. They are, however, disguised from each other by borrowed
devices, and Gryphon only suspects a knight who bore away the
honors of the first day, to be Orlando, from his superior prowess,
and from the presence of Angelica, whom he had observed seated
amongst the ladies that honoured the spectacle with their
presence.

Imparting his suspicions to Gostanzo after the trumpets had blown
to lodging, the wily Greek determined to rid himself of so
formidable an adversary. He accordingly introduced himself
secretly to Orlando, and informed him of a treason which (as he
said) the king of Cyprus meditated against him, at the instigation
of Ganelon, offering him at the same time the means of escape.
This was a pinnace moored in a creek, in which Orlando, breathing
vengeance against the Maganzese, embarked with Angelica, for
France.

Disembarking in Provence, they pursued their way by land, and
arriving hot, and weary, in the forest of Arden, where Rinaldo had
lately drunk of the fountain of Love, chance directed Angelica to
the waters of Disdain, of which she drank.

Issuing thence, the count and damsel encountered a stranger
knight. This was no other than Rinaldo, who had missed Rodomont,
then engaged in combat with Ferrau; and who, on a nearer approach,
recognised Angelica with joy, though his new arms and ensigns
disguised Orlando, who accompanied her. The consequences of such a
meeting are easily foreseen. Angelica views Rinaldo with disgust,
and a new cause of strife is kindled between the kinsmen.

Terrified at the combat which ensued, Angelica fled amain, through
the forest, and came out upon a plain, covered with tents. This
was the camp of Charlemagne, who led the army of reserve, destined
to support the troops which had advanced to oppose the descent of
Rodomont. Charles, having heard the damsel's tale, with difficulty
separates the two cousins, and then consigns Angelica, as the
cause of quarrel, to the care of Namus duke of Bavaria, promising
she shall be _his_ who best deserves her, in the first battle with
the Saracens.

The author here returns to Agramant, who was left holding a
tournament at the foot of Mount Carena in Africa. He having heard
of the knight who was slain, and _that_, contrary to his orders,
(which were only to employ courteous weapons,) determined to take
vengeance upon his murderer, and supposing Brunello to be the
criminal, (since Rogero had appeared with his arms and steed,)
ordered him to be hanged upon the spot.

The danger of him who was about to suffer for his sake, now again
brought Rogero from his retreat. He routed the troops appointed to
watch over the execution, rescued Brunello, and then, presenting
himself to Agramant, related every thing as it had passed.

Agramant, too happy to find the object of his search in the youth
who had performed such wonders, forgave the death of the
slaughtered cavalier, knighted Rogero, and carried him off to
Biserta, where his vassal kings and barons assembled for the
invasion of Christendom.

While they are in the midst of their revelry, a messenger reports
the return of Rodomont's fleet, whose followers brought with them,
as a prisoner, Dudon the Dane; but could give no account of
Rodomont their leader.

He was this while engaged in battle with Ferrau, with whom we left
him quarrelling about Doralice; but their strife was soon
interrupted by the arrival of a messenger, who brought news that
Marsilius was, at the instigation of Ganelon, besieging Mount
Albano. On hearing this, the duellists make peace, and ride
together to join the besiegers.

On their way they fall in with Vivian and Malagigi, sons of duke
Aymon, of Mount Albano, who are proceeding towards Paris, to
demand succour of Charlemagne; and Malagigi, retiring with Vivian
into a wood, performs a magic rite, by which he ascertains the
design of the approaching warriors Rodomont and Ferrau. To
frustrate this, he conjures up a bevy of fiends, armed and mounted
as knights, divides them into two squadrons, takes the command of
one himself, and gives that of the other to Vivian. Thus
accompanied, the Christian knights charge their adversaries. But
the Pagans are too strong for them, take Malagigi and Vivian
prisoners, and send their demons howling back to hell.

Here the author exclaims,

        But that I would not seem with folly tainted,
        I own I would have fain beheld the attack;
        So great is my desire to be acquainted
        With those the wizard brought his cause to back:
        And prove with my own eyes, if truly painted,
        The devil be so very foul and black;
        More; that his pictures differ as to nail,
        And horn, and hoof, and length and breadth of tail.

To return to the story, Rodomont and Ferrau arrive in the Spanish
camp before Mount Albano, which is shortly afterwards attacked by
the army of Charlemagne. Divers feats of prowess are achieved on
both sides; but the most interesting circumstance is a single
combat between Rodomont and Bradamant; which the author breaks off
in order to resume the story of Brandimart.

This knight, having obtained a steed and armour, as has been
before related, proceeds with Flordelis towards Europe.

Thus journeying, the pair arrived in front of a magnificent
palace. Here a damsel, standing in a balcony, motioned to them to
take another way; but in vain; for Brandimart, feigning not to
understand the purport of her signs, rode boldly up to the gate.
He is now opposed by a giant, armed with a serpent, which he uses
as a sword. Him the knight vanquishes after a long battle, in
which he is opposed by a variety of enchantments; the giant and
serpent exchanging forms, as one or the other is slain He next
kills a knight who kept a sepulchre in the inner court, and
opposed his further progress.

He and Flordelis, who had followed her lover, now seek the gate by
which they had entered, but all appearance of it was lost.

While they are vainly seeking the means of escape, they are
addressed by the damsel who had at first waved them from the
palace; and who informed Brandimart, he must open the sepulchre,
and kiss whatever issued from it, if he expected deliverance from
his prison. Brandimart, little terrified by the injunction,
promised compliance; but started back, and put his hand to his
sword, on the appearance of a dragon. Reproached by the damsel of
the castle for his breach of promise, he manned his spirits for
the encounter, and kissed the monster in the mouth. A sudden cold
ran through his bones at coming in contact with her: but what was
his surprise, on seeing the dragon transformed into a beautiful
damsel!

This was a fay so transmuted, who, grateful for her deliverance,
offered to enchant the horse and arms of Brandimart, at the same
time entreating him to conduct the lady of the castle, who was
named Doristella, into Syria.

This promised, the gate re-appeared, the fay enchanted the steed
and arms of Brandimart, and he, accompanied by the two ladies,
departed upon the quest enjoined.

They had ridden some time in silence, when Doristella, rallying
the knight for his taciturnity, proposed to beguile the way with
the relation of her adventures. The offer was gratefully received,
and the damsel began her story as follows:—

"My father, king Doliston," said she, "had two daughters, the
eldest of whom, while yet a child, was carried off by a thief from
the shore of Lissa. Of this daughter, who was the promised spouse
of Theodore the son of a neighbouring king, nothing was ever
afterwards heard."

"And what was the name of the mother?" exclaimed Flordelis; but
Brandimart having checked her for her interruption, Doristella
continued her narrative in her own way. "My intended brother-in-law,"
said the damsel, "still kept up his connection with my
family, and he and I soon became mutually enamoured of one
another. The young man at length unbosomed himself to my father,
and demanded me in marriage; but my father, to his mortification,
told him, that he had that very day promised me to the wretch,
whom you slew in the palace.

"To this wretch, named Usbeck of Bursa, a Turcoman by nation, was
I wedded; a man valiant in the field, but, as to the rest, little
capable of winning a lady's love. This man, who was jealous in
proportion to the grounds he gave me for disgust, was compelled to
join an expedition against Vatarone the emperor of Greece.
Departing, he left me in care of a slave called Gambone, a monster
of deformity, whom he commanded never to stir from my side. He had
not been long absent, when Theodore arrived at Bursa, and having
corrupted Gambone, obtained access to my bed.

"Our intercourse was long continued, to our mutual satisfaction,
when Usbeck arrived suddenly one night at Bursa, and demanded
instant entrance into his house. Our courage did not desert us
under these circumstances, and Theodore, slipping down stairs in
the dark, escaped at the same time that Usbeck was admitted. Our
danger, however, did not end here; for my husband's suspicions had
been awakened by his detention at the door, and searching every
part of my chamber, he found a mantle which my lover had left
behind him in his retreat.

"His suspicions being now confirmed, he burst into a transport of
jealous fury, and ordered the slave Gambone for instant execution.
According to the custom of the country, his other slaves were
conducting him for that purpose, through the city with a horn
sounding before him, when Theodore met the procession, and falling
upon the criminal, reproached him, amid a shower of blows, with
having robbed him of his mantle. This trick of Theodore's, who was
unknown to Usbeck, saved the slave, and effaced the suspicions
which he entertained of my fidelity. New offences, however, on my
part, for I still continued my intercourse with Theodore, renewed
his jealousy, and he at last shut me up in the enchanted palace
whence you delivered me; though it was not then kept by the giant
and serpent, which were the afterwork of a necromancer who wrought
for him."

The damsel was here interrupted by an outcry, and the party was
instantly set upon by thieves. These were, however, beaten off,
and their leader taken prisoner by Brandimart. He, throwing
himself at the feet of the cavalier, entreated him not to carry
him to Lissa, as he dreaded the vengeance of Doliston, the prince
of that country, for having formerly carried off his eldest
daughter, whom he had sold to the lord of the Sylvan Tower.

Brandimart, however, who has secret reasons (as will be shortly
seen) for being pleased at this account, insists upon carrying him
to Lissa; and arriving before Doliston's capital, finds it
besieged by Theodore, in revenge for the monarch's having refused
him Doristella. All now is cleared up. Flordelis turns out to be
the missing daughter of Doliston, who had been wooed by Brandimart
in the Sylvan Tower; and no further obstacle existing to the union
of Theodore and Doristella, these two, as well as Brandimart and
Flordelis, are united in marriage; Doliston and Theodora having
previously made peace.

After long festivities in honour of these double espousals,
Brandimart and Flordelis, still anxious to pursue Orlando, embark
for France with a prosperous wind. This, however, changes;
increases to a tempest; and finally drives them on the shores of
Carthage. Here Brandimart, less anxious for his own safety than
for that of Flordelis and his companions, conceals his being a
Christian, and announcing himself only as son of Monodontes, king
of the Distant Isles, declares that it was his purpose to visit
Agramant in Biserta.

He accordingly sets off, always attended by Flordelis, for that
capital; where he is magnificently received, and is afterwards
carried off by Agramant, together with Rogero, on his expedition
against France.

Agramant, leaving Dudon a prisoner at large in Biserta, which was
to be governed in his absence by a vice-roy, embarks upon his long
meditated enterprise, disembarks in Spain, and arrives, by forced
marches, near Mount Albano, in the neighbourhood of which the
armies of Charlemagne and Marsilius were left engaged.

The strife was still continued with unabated fury; and in this
Rinaldo was matched with Ferrau, king Grandonio with the marquis
Oliviero, Serpentine with Ogier the Dane, and Marsilius himself
against Charlemagne.

These duels were, however, of little account, compared with that
which raged between Rodomont and Bradamant. Of this desperate
contest Orlando was a witness; who would not turn his arms against
Rodomont while he was engaged with so formidable an adversary.

While Orlando thus played the part of a looker-on, he was
surprised by the sound of an approaching enemy, and casting his
eyes in that direction, saw a plump of spears, with banners and
pennons, descending the sides of a mountain. He immediately
stooped from his saddle to pick up a weighty lance which was lying
on the ground, and thus prepared himself for the encounter of what
proved to be the army of Agramant.

This sovereign had in the meantime dispatched one of his vassal
kings, named Pinadoro, towards the field of battle, with orders to
bring him one or more prisoners, who might inform him of the state
of the Christian army. Pinadoro and Orlando meet and tilt
together; but the feudatory king, instead of accomplishing the
orders of his sovereign, remains the prisoner of the count. He is,
however, no sooner taken than liberated by his conqueror, who bids
him return to his army in peace. The report of his ill success
does not frighten Agramant from his purpose; and the Moorish army
descends like a torrent into the plain.

At the sight of these new enemies, Charles left Marsilius, who was
closely pressed by him, and ordered Rinaldo also to give a respite
to Ferrau, and lead a squadron against the approaching troops,
whom he divined to be what they really were. Other divisions of
the army followed in support of one another, and a bloody battle
ensued, with various and very doubtful success.

Meantime Orlando, who wished such measure of misfortune to
Charlemagne as should make his assistance necessary, and ensure
him the possession of Angelica as his reward, had retired from the
medley into a neighbouring wood, and was praying devoutly for the
discomfiture of the Christians. By accident, Ferrau, fatigued by
his long contest with Rinaldo, and lately as hard pressed by him
as Marsilius was by Charlemagne, had sought shelter in the same
retreat. Here, stooping to drink from the banks of a river, he
dropt his helmet in the water, and was engaged in a vain attempt
to recover it, when he was discovered by Orlando. The count,
however, was too generous to attack an enemy under such
disadvantages, and weakened as Ferrau evidently was by the combat
he had previously waged against Rinaldo. He accordingly, after a
short conference with him, in which he learned the state of
things, spurred his courser, in order to join the army of
Charlemagne.

Here he performs high feats of valour, and, after the slaughter of
many adversaries, is advancing against Rogero, when Atlantes, who
had accompanied the youth, (since he could not restrain him from
following his destiny,) diverts Orlando from his object by the
vision of a triumphant Pagan squadron, and of the personal danger
of Charlemagne. Fascinated by this illusion, he follows the
supposed Saracens into the forest of Arden. Here the vision
disappears; and the count, wearied with the fruitless chace,
lights from Brigliadoro near a fountain. Stooping to drink, he
sees a crystal palace at the bottom, through the walls of which he
beholds a dance of ladies, and, unable to resist the temptation of
an adventure, plunges, armed as he is, into the fountain.


THE ORLANDO INNAMORATO.
BOOK III.
ARGUMENT.

The third book opens with the introduction of a new character,
Mandricardo, son of Agrican, the Tartar king, who, pursuing his
way to France in order to avenge his father's death, is made the
prisoner of a fairy. He frees himself, acquires the arms of
Hector, and is, as well as other knights, involved in various
adventures, till the story returns to the invasion of France,
which is suddenly interrupted in the middle.


BOOK III.

The author opens this book by stating, that he is called away to
the north. Here a mighty storm was gathering; and France, already
sore-bested, was suddenly threatened by a new storm from the
remote quarter of Tartary.

The emperor of this region, named Mandricardo, having wasted it by
his violences, was proceeding in a course of imperious tyranny,
when an old man threw himself in his way, and, reproaching him
with his outrages, bade him desist from warring upon the innocent
and defenceless, and seek to revenge the death of his father upon
one who was worthy of his wrath; to wit, upon Orlando, the
murderer of king Agrican.

Stung to the heart by the old man's reproaches, Mandricardo,
determining to owe his success in the enterprise on which he
resolved to his own individual valour, leaves his kingdom
incognito, and departs, without horse or arms, towards the west.
Travelling thus alone and a-foot, he had passed the confines of
Armenia, when he spied upon a day a pavilion, pitched near a
fountain; and imagining that he might there find what he was
determined to win by force, entered it, with the view of searching
for the horse and arms of which he stood in need. There was none
to defend the entrance, and he was already within the pavilion,
when a voice was heard to murmur from the waters, that he was a
prisoner to the power, whose possession he had violated.

Mandricardo, however, heard not, or else disregarded the voice;
and pursuing his search, found a suit of armour, disposed upon a
carpet, and a courser fastened to a neighbouring pine.

He immediately clothed himself in the arms, and seized upon the
steed, with which he was departing, when a fire suddenly sprang up
before him, that, spreading itself, destroyed the pine, and left
the fountain and pavilion alone untouched. Mandricardo is himself
embraced by the flames, which destroy his armour and clothing even
to his shirt. To escape the torture, he leaps from his horse,
every thing which he had on him being consumed, and casts himself
into the water. Here, he is received into the arms of a naked
damsel of incomparable beauty, who kisses him, and bids him be of
good cheer, informing him that he is taken in the snare of a
fairy, but that if he has heart and discretion, he may rescue not
only himself, but so many damsels and cavaliers, that he shall
reap immortal glory from the achievement.

She pursued her story, informing him, that the fountain was the
work of a fairy, who had imprisoned there king Gradasso of
Sericane, Gryphon and Aquilant, and many other knights and ladies.
"Beyond the hill," said she, "which you see before you, is
situated a castle, where this fairy has laid up the arms of
Hector, with the exception of his sword. On his being slain
treacherously by Achilles, a queen, named Penthesilea, possessed
herself of this. At her death it passed to Almontes, and from him
was taken by Orlando. This weapon was called Durindana. The
remainder of his arms was saved and carried off by Æneas, from
whom they were received by her, in recompence of a marvellous
service which she had bestowed upon him. If you have the courage
to attempt the acquisition of these arms, secured in yonder castle
by enchantment, I will be your guide."

Mandricardo was enraptured at the proposal, and only hesitated at
the idea of exposing himself naked. This difficulty was, however,
got over by the lady, who, letting down her hair, which was bound
about her head in braids, furnished a complete covering for
herself and the cavalier. Being sheltered from sight by this, they
issued, linked arm in arm, from the water, and took their way
together to the pavilion.

Entering this, which, as was said, remained untouched by the fire,
they reposed for some time upon flowers. At length the damsel gave
the signal for departure, and having clothed Mandricardo in
armour, conducted him where a courser was in waiting. Upon this he
leapt, all armed as he was; and the lady having mounted on a
palfrey, both set forward on their enterprise.

They had ridden about a mile, when the damsel, explaining the
dangers of the quest, informed Mandricardo that he would have to
combat with Gradasso, the conqueror of Gryphon, who had at first
maintained the field against all comers.

Thus speaking, they arrived at the castle, which was of alabaster,
overlaid with gold. Before this, on a lawn, enclosed with a
barrier of live myrtles, sat an armed knight on horseback, and who
was no other than Gradasso. Mandricardo, upon seeing him, dropt
his vizor, and laid his lance in the rest. The champion of the
castle was as ready, and each spurred towards his opponent. They
splintered their spears with equal force, and again returning to
the charge, encountered with their swords. This contest was long
and doubtful, when Mandricardo, determining to bring it to an
issue, threw his arms about Gradasso, and the two horsemen,
grappling together, tumbled to the ground. In the struggle,
however, Mandricardo fell uppermost, and preserving his advantage,
made Gradasso prisoner. The damsel now interfered, proclaiming the
victory of the new comer, and consoling the vanquished as she
could, for his discomfiture.

In the meantime, the sun had set upon the strife, and it was too
late for Mandricardo to enter the enchanted castle, which the
damsel informed him would be only accessible after sunrise. She
invites him, therefore, to lie down amongst the flowers with which
the meadow is enamelled, proffering to be his guard; but informs
him, that there is harbourage to be obtained at a neighbouring
castle, though it can only be purchased by exposure to notable
peril. This, she says, is kept by a kind and courteous lady, who
is often disturbed, in the exercise of her hospitality, by a giant
named Malapresa, whom he would do well to avoid, as he has already
sufficient toil and danger on his hands.

Mandricardo rejects this kind intimation, and insists upon being
guided to the lady's lodging.

He and the damsel accordingly set off in that direction, and soon
arrive at the palace, which is illuminated with a thousand lights.
It appeared as if a watch was kept for friends or foes; and a
dwarf was posted in a gallery over the entrance, whose duty it was
to give notice of all comers. On the winding of his horn, if there
were cause for suspicion, the household, armed with missile
weapons, assembled in the balconies: but if it were an errant
knight, in search of hospitality, damsels came forth to salute
him, and conduct him into the castle.

In this manner was Mandricardo received, who was afterwards
magnificently entertained by the lady of the mansion. Their
festivity is, however, interrupted by the dwarf's horn, which
sounds an alarum. The signal is hardly given, before Malapresa has
forced the gate, and appears in the middle of the guests, armed
with an enormous mace. A furious combat now ensues between him and
the Tartar king, in which the giant is slain, and cast into the
castle ditch. This event occasions only a short interruption of
the festivity, which is prolonged late into the night. The
revellers at length retire; and Mandricardo amongst the rest, who
is as magnificently lodged, as he had been feasted, by the lady of
the castle.

At sun-rise he starts from his couch, descends into the castle-garden,
washes himself at a fountain; then puts on his armour,
and, guided by his former conductress, proceeds upon his
enterprise.

On arriving at the eastern entrance of the outer wall of the
enchanted castle, which was not more magnificent than extensive,
and which entrance Mandricardo found undefended, he was informed,
that he must plight an oath upon the threshold, to touch a shield
which was suspended there from a pilaster of gold. The bearing of
this was a white eagle on an azure field, in memory of the bird of
Jove, who bore away Ganymede, the flower of the Phrygian race.
Beneath was engraved the following legend:

        Let none, with hand profane, my buckler wrong,
        Unless he be himself as Hector strong.

The damsel immediately, alighting from her palfrey, inclined
herself to the ground; the Tartar king bent himself with equal
reverence, and afterwards passed the threshold without an
obstacle.

Advancing through the eastern entrance of the enclosure towards
the shield, Mandricardo touched it with his sword. An earthquake
immediately shook the place, and the way by which he had entered
closed. Another, and an opposite gate, however, opened, and
displayed a field, bristling with stalks and grain of gold. The
damsel upon this told him, that he who had entered had no means of
departure but by cutting down the harvest which was before him,
and in uprooting a tree which grew in the middle of the field. The
champion, without answering, prepared himself for his work, and
immediately began to mow the harvest with his sword. A strange
effect followed; and every grain was instantly transformed into
some ravenous animal,—lion, panther, or unicorn, who all flew in
fury at the reaper.

Mandricardo, thus assailed, snatched up a stone, without knowing
what virtue resided in it, and cast it amongst the herd. This
stone was party-coloured, green, vermilion, white, azure and gold.
A strange wonder followed: for it no sooner lighted amongst the
beasts, than they turned their rage one against the other, and
perished by mutual wounds. Mandricardo did not stop to marvel at
the miracle, but proceeded to fulfil his task, and uproot the
tree. This, which was lofty and full of leaves, he embraced by the
trunk, making vigorous efforts to tear it up by the roots. At each
of these fell a shower of leaves, which were instantly changed
into birds of prey, who attacked the knight, as the beasts had
done before. Undismayed, however, by this new annoyance, he
continued to tug at the trunk till it yielded to his efforts. A
burst of wind and thunder followed, and the hawks and vultures
were dispersed.

These, however, only gave place to a new foe; for from the hole
made by tearing up the tree, issued a furious serpent with many
tails, who darted at Mandricardo, wound herself about his limbs,
and was about to devour him. Fortune, however, again stood his
friend; for, writhing under the folds of the monster, and
struggling to free himself, he fell backwards into the hole, and
his enemy was crushed beneath his weight.

Mandricardo, when he had somewhat recovered from the shock, and
assured himself of the destruction of the dragon, began to
contemplate the place into which he had fallen, and saw that he
was in a vault, encrusted with costly metals, and illuminated by a
live coal. In the middle was a sort of ivory bier, and upon this
was extended, what appeared to be a knight in armour, but what was
in truth, an empty trophy, composed of the rich and precious arms,
once Hector's, and to which nothing was wanting but the sword.
While Mandricardo stood contemplating the prize, a door opened
behind him, and a bevy of fair damsels entered dancing, who bore
him away to the place where the shield was suspended, and where he
found the fairy of the castle seated in state. By her he was
invested with the arms which he had won, he first swearing, at her
injunction, to wear no other blade but the sword Durindana, which
he was to ravish from Orlando, and thus complete the conquest of
Hector's arms.

The adventure was now accomplished, and the champion departed in
order to achieve the great purpose, for which he left his realm of
Tartary. Many illustrious knights issued at the same time from the
dungeons of the fairy, who had remained prisoners on a failure of
their enterprise, and who had been now liberated by his success.
Amongst these were Gradasso, Isolier, Sacripant, Gryphon, and
Aquilant, with many others.

Mandricardo himself pursued his journey, in company with Gradasso.
Of the others, Gryphon and Aquilant, who knew the language of the
Saracens, travelled through strange countries; and thus journeying
along the sea-shore, fell in with two damsels, the one clothed in
white, and the other in black, and attended by two dwarfs. As the
colour of their respective ladies, such was that of their dwarfs,
and of the palfreys which they rode: saving in this, they were so
alike, as to be undistinguishable one from the other; and were
equals in beauty and grace.

"Sister," said one of these, addressing herself to her companion,
"there is no defence against destiny; yet wisdom may in some sort,
controul fortune: then let us detain these, at least awhile, from
the fate which is reserved for them in France."—Thus spoke the
sable to the white damsel, unheard of the two knights who were
approaching, and who saluted them with all the courtesy due to
their bearing and appearance.

One of the ladies demanded a boon of the two cavaliers; who both
as instantly vowed to perform whatever was enjoined them. This was
to take the field against a miscreant, named Orrilo, engendered of
a goblin and fairy, who inhabited a tower upon the Nile, where he
kept (says the story) a kind of dragon, termed a crocodile, and
fed it with human flesh. The damsels go on to state, that hitherto
no one has been able to prevail against the wretch, who, in dying,
renews himself like the phœnix. This account does not discourage
the brothers, who again proffer their assistance.

Aquilant accordingly encounters Orrilo, where he keeps the way
against travellers; and he being sore pressed, flies to the tower,
and turns out his crocodile.

Gryphon now deems himself justified in assisting his brother; and
the crocodile is at length slain. Orrilo, however, though often
worsted, appears to be irresistible: for though he is frequently
unhorsed, and is actually severed into two parts by one of the
brothers, he constantly re-unites himself, and renews the contest
The day is now closing, and the two brothers are in despair.

While things are in this state, a new performer appears upon the
theatre. This is a knight, who dragged a giant captive: but here
the author leaves Gryphon and Aquilant, as well as the knight and
his prisoner, and resumes the story of Mandricardo and Gradasso,
who were left journeying together towards France.

This pair, after traversing various regions, arrive upon the sea-coast,
where they find a lady chained and exposed upon the beach.
On their interrogating her, she tells them, that she awaits the
approach of a furious Ork, who will devour her alive; and entreats
them, as an act of compassion, rather to put her to an immediate
death, than to leave her exposed to so horrible a fate. The only
favour that she requests of them, besides this dreadful grace, is,
(should they fall in with him,) to inform Norandino, king of
Damascus, of her death, and dying sentiments of affection to him.

The knights, however, insist on defending her, and a dreadful
conflict ensues between them and the Ork, who is represented as
something indistinct, monstrous and gigantic. Gradasso is soon
overpowered, and Mandricardo, who, in conformity to his vow, was
unprovided with a sword, is obliged to fly before the pest.

He, however, finds his deliverance in flight; for, speeding his
steps along the cliffs, he arrives at a frightful chasm, at which
he springs in utter desperation. The Ork following him, is unable
to clear it, and tumbles down the abyss.

Mandricardo quit of his foe, descends to the shore, in search of
Gradasso and Lucina, (for so was named the lady chained to the
rock,) and proceeds in company with them along the beach. From
this they behold a ship in the distance, which bears the flag of
Tibiano, king of Cyprus and Rhodes, the father of Lucina, and who
was then seeking his daughter. Lucina, overjoyed at the sight,
makes a signal of her vest, and waves the galley to the land. On
board this she embarks, together with her defenders; but the
vessel has scarcely shown her stern to the shore, when the Ork re-appears,
with a monstrous fragment of a mountain on his shoulders:
This he heaves into the sea, which flashes above her topmast head,
and all cower at the bottom of the vessel for refuge; but the mass
misses the mark at which it was hurled, and a loud land-wind
rising at the moment, the vessel is blown off to sea.

One danger is only substituted for another; the storm increases,
and all is darkness and dismay. In this situation, the night
closes in, during which they drift at the mercy of the winds. The
succeeding day dawns upon them under better auspices; and they
find themselves, in the morning, upon the shore of Acquamorta,
where a mountain separates France and Spain.

Here they land in the neighbourhood of a cave, called Runa,
without having any knowledge of the coast upon which they are
cast. Leaving there Tibiano and Lucina, Gradasso and Mandricardo
proceed, armed and mounted, in search of intelligence.

They have not proceeded far, before they hear the noise of battle,
and pushing their horses towards the sound, find Agramant engaged
with Charlemagne.

The main story is thus brought back to the point where the
christian and paynim armies were left, and where the tide of
conquest was fluctuating between the hostile forces. Retiring from
the medley, Ferrau had withdrawn into a neighbouring wood, and was
fishing for his helmet, in a stream in which he had lost it as he
stooped to drink. At this period fortune declares decisively in
favour of the infidels; and, while Rogero and Rinaldo are engaged
in a single combat on foot, Charlemagne's forces give way at all
points, in irreparable confusion.

The duel of the two champions is interrupted by the crowd of
fugitives and pursuers; and Rinaldo, now seeing Bayardo loose in
the field, attempts to get possession of him. The horse, however,
will not be taken; and Rinaldo, following him into a thick wood,
is left there by the author, who returns to Rogero.

Rogero was also a-foot, and grieving for the loss of his own
horse, Frontino, whom he however recovered in the rout. He now
finds Bradamant and Rodomont engaged in combat. Though he knew not
who they were, he could distinguish that one was a paynim, and the
other a Christian; and, moved by the spirit of courtesy,
approached them, and exclaimed, "Let him of the two, who worships
Christ, pause, and hear what I have to say. The army of Charles is
routed, and in flight; so that if he wishes to follow his leader,
he has no time for delay." Bradamant, who is thunderstruck with
the tidings, desires immediately to leave the field; but this is
refused by her antagonist: and Rogero, indignant at his
discourtesy, insists upon her departure, while he takes up the
quarrel with Rodomont.

This, long and obstinately maintained on both sides, is
interrupted by the return of Bradamant, who, not being able to
overtake the fugitives, and being divided in her feelings, as to
what she owed on the one side to her emperor, and on the other to
the stranger who had so generously taken her part, yields at last
to what was the stronger impulse, and comes back to his
assistance.

She arrives, however, when he was least in need of it; and when he
had smote his enemy such a blow, as obliged him to drop both his
sword and bridle. Rogero, however, disdaining to profit by his
defenceless situation, sate apart upon his horse, whilst that of
Rodomont bore his rider, stunned and stupefied, about the field.

Rogero was at this juncture approached by Bradamant; who conceived
a yet higher notion of his valour, on beholding such an instance
of forbearance. She addressed him, by excusing herself for leaving
him exposed to an enemy from his interference in her cause,
pleading her attachment to her sovereign as the motive; and was
engaged in conference with him, when Rodomont recovered from his
confusion. His bearing was however changed, and he disclaimed all
thoughts of further contest with one "who he said, had already
vanquished him by his courtesy." So saying, he quitted his
antagonist, picked up his sword, and spurred out of sight.

Bradamant was now again desirous of retiring from the field, and
Rogero insisted on accompanying her, though yet unconscious of her
sex.

As they pursued their way, she enquired the name and quality of
her new associate; and Rogero informed her of his nation and
family. Beginning from the destruction of Troy, he told her that
Astyanax, who was preserved by a stratagem of the Greeks, having
established the kingdom of Messina, in Sicily, perished by the
treachery of a priest, named Œgystus. The widow of this prince,
being then big with child, flying from her enemies, escaped to
Rheggio. Here she brought forth a son, who was christened
Polydore. From this Polydore descended Polydantes, and from him
twin branches, who gave origin to two other families of renown.
From one of these sprang the royal race of Pepin and Charlemagne;
and from the other, two illustrious houses, one of which took root
at Rheggio, ('once called Risa') and the other at Ancona. "From
that of Rheggio am I derived," continued he; "and am son of
Rogero, the son of Agolant and Gallicella. She flying when big
with me, from a horrible persecution which she endured during the
absence of her husband, then engaged in war, brought me forth in a
foreign land, and died in giving me life. It was here that a
magician took charge of me, who trained me to feats of arms amidst
the dangers of the desert and of the chace."

Having thus ended his tale, Rogero entreated a similar return of
courtesy from his companion; who replied, without disguise, that
she was of the race of Clermont, and sister to Rinaldo, the fame
of whom was perhaps known to him. Rogero, much moved by this
intelligence, entreats her to take off her helmet; and, at the
discovery of her face, remains transported with pleasure.

Whilst he is contemplating this with rapture, an unexpected danger
hangs over the future lovers. A party which was placed in a wood,
in order to intercept the retreating Christians, breaks from its
ambush upon the pair; and Bradamant, who was uncasqued, is wounded
in the head. Rogero is in fury at this attack; and Bradamant,
replacing her helmet, joins him in taking speedy vengeance on
their enemies. Of these they clear the field, but separate in the
pursuit; and the author first resumes the story of Rogero.

Quitting the chace, and wandering by hill and vale, in search of
her whom he had no sooner found than lost, Rogero now falls in
with two knights, whom he joins, and who promise to assist him in
the search of his companion, whose arms he describes, concealing,
from a vague feeling of jealousy, her quality and sex.

It was evening when they joined company, and having journeyed
together through the night, the morning was beginning to break,
when one of the strangers, fixing his eyes upon Rogero's shield,
demanded of him by what right he bore the device pourtrayed upon
it. Rogero, in return interrogated the enquirer as to his
pretensions to the bearing of Hector, who proclaimed himself to be
Mandricardo, declared how he had won it, and proposed that arms
should decide which of the two was most worthy to bear the symbol
of the Trojan knight.

Rogero felt no other objection to this proposal, than the scruple
which rose out of the observation, that his antagonist was without
a sword. Mandricardo, however, insisted that this need be no
impediment; and then informed him of the vow which he had taken,
never to wear a sword till he had completed the acquisition of
Hector's arms by the conquest of Durindana.

This was no sooner said, than a new antagonist started up in
Gradasso, in whom the reader will have recognised the companion of
Mandricardo. Gradasso now vindicates his prior right to the quest
of Durindana, to obtain which he had embarked (as was related in
the beginning) in that fearful war upon France. A quarrel is thus
kindled between the kings of Tartary and Sericane. Mandricardo
uproots a young elm-tree, to supply the place of a sword; and
Gradasso, disdaining to combat with unequal weapons, arms himself
with a pine. Being thus furnished for offence, they encounter one
another with fury, while Rogero laughs and looks upon the strife.

He, nevertheless, several times attempts to separate the
combatants, but always without success. While the conflict is thus
raging, a knight arrives upon the ground, accompanied by a damsel,
to whom Rogero relates the cause and progress of the strife. This
turns out to be Brandimart, accompanied by Flordelis. He also
interposes his mediation, and succeeds better in bringing the two
champions to accord. This he affects, by informing them that he
can conduct them to the presence of Orlando, the master of
Durindana.

"If," said he, "you can heal him of a strange enchantment, it is
from him that you may claim the sword; nor is he one who will
refuse you a fair field for obtaining it. Two leagues from hence,"
continued Brandimart, "is a water, called the _River of Laughter_,
but which would be better entitled _the Stream of Tears_. Here
Orlando is enchanted. An African magician made this known to me,
and I had already disposed myself to free him, or perish by his
side, but being insufficient by myself for such an enterprise,
Heaven has willed that I should light upon you to assist me in the
attempt."

Gradasso and Mandricardo instantly make truce, in order to
accompany Brandimart in his quest, nor will Rogero be left behind.

This resolution, however, gave rise to a serious difficulty; for
the number to be employed in the adventure was to be unequal, as
Brandimart was instructed; and one must therefore necessarily be
rejected. Who should be rejected, it was now determined to decide
by lot; and chance pronounced against Mandricardo, who departed
with reluctance from the field, and wandering long, arrived at
last in Agramant's camp, who had sate down before Paris.

The story of Orlando is now resumed, where it was left by the
author at the conclusion of the second book. The count having
plunged into the fountain, termed the River of Laughter, is so
delighted with the company of Naiads, and with the pleasures which
he finds beneath the waters, that he remains there a willing
prisoner.

About this water extended an enchanted wood, thick with evergreen
trees; and here arrived Rogero, Gradasso, Brandimart, and
Flordelis, determined to attempt the deliverance of Orlando.

This forest seemed impenetrable; but by the advice of Flordelis,
the knights descended from their horses, and determined to cut
themselves a passage. Rogero, in pursuance of this resolution,
hews down a laurel with his sword. The tree is no sooner
overthrown, than a beautiful damsel starts from its trunk, and
claims the compassion of the knight. She informs him, that the
trees which he beholds, as well as that which he has felled,
contain sister nymphs, the victims of enchantment; the nature of
which is such that they remain transformed till liberated, as she
had been, by the destruction of the plant in which they are
imprisoned. "This deliverance is, however, as yet incomplete,"
pursued the damsel; "and, to perfect it, you must accompany me to
the water, if you would not see me again rooted in the forest."
Rogero yields to her prayer, accompanies her to the water, and,
seduced by the enchantment, leaps hand in hand with her into the
fountain.

In the meantime, Gradasso, attempting to clear his way, cuts down
an ash, which is converted into a courser. He immediately mounts
it; when the horse transports him through the air, and plunges
with him into the enchanted stream, where he remains a prisoner
with the rest.*

* The reader will see in this adventure, more especially in the
author's fitting the temptations to the character of the knights,
the hint which Tasso turned to so much better account in his
creation of the forest of Armida.

Brandimart, counselled by Flordelis, pursues the adventure with
better success; and resisting every species of temptation which is
presented to him, at length arrives at the banks of the fountain.
Here, however, he would have yielded to the same fascination as
the others, but for the wise precautions of Flordelis,—

        Who, for a safeguard, round his brow disposes
        A mystic garland of enchanted roses.*

* The idea of roses being a solvent of enchantments, is as old as
Apuleius and Lucian; and, like most of the mysticisms to be found
in those authors, is probably to be traced to a much more ancient
source.

She had also furnished him with the same ornaments for the others
whom he was to deliver from the pool. Armed with these wreaths, he
approaches the knights, whom he finds in the bowers of crystal,
into which he plunged, and crowns them with the garlands. The
charm forthwith operates; their perverse inclination ceases, and
they gladly return with their deliverer to the surface.

They are scarcely safe from the spell, when Gradasso bethinks him
of his long quest, and a fierce battle ensues between him and
Orlando, for the possession of Durindana. They are, however,
induced to suspend this by the instances of their companions, and
the entreaties of a stranger dwarf, who appears, mounted on a
palfrey, and entreats the assistance of some of the knights.

These accordingly divide; Orlando, attended by Brandimart and
Flordelis, taking his way towards Paris, and Rogero and Gradasso
accompanying the dwarf.

The author accompanies Orlando and his friends, who arrive before
Paris, besieged by the forces of Agramant, amid whose ranks were
to be found assembled, Rodomont, Mandricardo, Ferrau, the newly
arrived Gradasso, and all the worthies of the paynim army.
Flordelis now retires into a wood for safety, while the two
champions approach the camp of the besiegers. At this crisis
Charlemagne makes a desperate sally, which is seconded by Orlando
and Brandimart, and the fortune of the day seems balanced between
the contending troops.

The author here leaves things thus suspended, and takes up the
story of Bradamant, who lately separated form Rogero, in repulsing
the ambuscade of the paynims. She journeying alone, and still
suffering from her wound, at length reaches a hermitage, the
tenant of which examines her head, cuts off her hair and with this
bandages, and finally heals the gash which she had received.

Departing from his hermitage, and still pursuing her way alone,
she alights from her horse, and reposes herself in a wood, where
she is surprised sleeping by Flordespina, who, deceived by the
appearance of her hair, takes her for a man. This princess, who
was engaged with her damsels in the chase, by a stratagem detains
Bradamant in the forest, where they pursue their sports in
company.

But, exclaims the poet, while I sing these lays of ladies and of
loves, I see France arming against Italy, and the horizon bright
with flames. Hereafter, if it shall be permitted me I will piece
the tale which I leave unfinished.

* * * * *

So ends the story of the Orlando Innamorato,

"To-morrow to fresh woods and pastures new."





*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "The Orlando Innamorato" ***

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