Orlando Furioso (Rose)/Canto 13
THE ORLANDO FURIOSO.
CANTO XIII.
ARGUMENT.
The Count Orlando of the damsel bland
Who loves Zerbino, hears the piteous woes.
Next puts to death the felons with his hand
Who pent her there. Duke Aymon’s daughter goes,
Seeking Rogero, where so large a band
The old Atlantes’ magic walls enclose.
Her he impounds, deceived by fictions new.
Agramant ranks his army for review.
THE ORLANDO FURIOSO.
CANTO XIII.
I.
Those ancient cavaliers right happy were,
Born in an age, when, in the gloomy wood,
In valley, and in cave, wherein the bear,
Serpent, or lion, hid their savage brood,
They could find that, which now in palace rare
Is hardly found by judges proved and good;
Women, to wit, who in their freshest days
Of beauty worthily deserve the praise.
II.
Above I told you how a gentle maid
Orlando had discovered under ground,
And asked, ‘by whom she thither was conveyed?’
Pursuing now my tale, I tell, how drowned
In grief (her speech by many a sob delayed),
The damsel fair, in sweet and softest sound,
Summing them with what brevity she might,
Her ills recounted to Anglantes’ knight.
III.
“Though I am sure,” she said, “O cavalier,
“To suffer punishment for what I say;
“Because I know, to him who pens me here,
“This woman quickly will the fact display;
“I would not but thou shouldst the story hear.
“—And let my wretched life the forfeit pay!
“For what can wait me better than that he,
“My gaoler, should one day my death decree?
IV.
“Lo! I am Isabel, who once was styled
“The daughter of Gallicia’s hapless king:
“I said aright who was; but now the child
“(No longer his) of care and suffering:
“The fault of Love, by whom I was beguiled;
“For against him alone this charge I bring,
“Who sweetly, at the first, our wish applauds,
“And weaves in secret but deceit and frauds.
V.
“Whilom I lived, content in Fortune’s smile,
“Rich, blameless, fair, and young; to sad reverse
“Condemned, I now am wretched, poor, and vile,
“And in worse case, if any yet be worse.
“But it is fitting, I to thee this while
“From their first root my troubles should rehearse.
“And it will soothe me, though of thee I borrow
“No help, that thou compassionate my sorrow.
VI.
“My father in his city of Bayonne,
“(To-day will be twelve months) a tourney dight[1];
“Hence, led by spreading rumour to our town,
“To joust, from different lands came many a knight;
“Mid these (was it his manifest renown,
“Or was it love which so deceived my sight)
“Praise in my eyes alone Zerbino won,
“Who was the mighty king of Scotland’s son.
VII.
“When him I after in the field espied,
“Performing wondrous feats of chivalry,
“I was surprised by Love, ere I descried
“That freedom was for ever lost to me.
“Yet, following in my Love, so rash a guide,
“I lay this unction to my phantasy,
“That no unseemly place my heart possest,
“Fixed on the worthiest in the world and best.
VIII.
“In beauty and in valour’s boast above
“Those other lords the Scottish prince stood high.
“He showed me, and, I think, he bore me love,
“And felt no less an ardent flame than I.
“Nor lacked there one who did between us move,
“To speak our common wishes frequently,
“So could we still in heart and mind unite,
“Although disjoined from one another’s sight.
IX.
“Hence, when concluded was the festal show,
“And to his home Zerbino was returned,
“If thou know’st what is love, thou well may’st know
“How night and day I for the warrior yearned;
“And was assured, no less on him did prey
“The flame, that in his constant bosom burned.
“He, save a way to have me with him, nought
“For solace of his restless passion sought.
X.
“For different faith forbade him (on my side
“I was a saracen, a Christian he)
“To ask me of my father as a bride,
“By stealth he purposed to elope with me.
“Amid green fields, our wealthy town beside,
“I had a garden, seated by the sea,
“Upon the pleasant shore; from whence the eye
“Might ocean and the hills about descry.
XI.
“A fitting place to effect what different creed
“And law forbade us, he esteemed this site,
“And showed the order taken for the deed,
“Which was to make our future life’s delight;
“And how, near Santa Martha, for our need,
“A bark was with arm’d men in ambush dight,
“Under Sir Odoric of Biscay’s command;
“A leader he, approved by sea and land!
XII.
“Unable in his person this to do,
“For by his father he was forced to wend
“In succour of the king of France, in lieu
“This Odoric for the purpose he would send;
“Chosen, of all his faithful friends and true,
“As his most faithful and his truest friend:
“And such had been, if benefits could bind
“And goodly deeds the friendship of mankind.
XIII.
“At the time fixed to bear me thence away,
“This chief would anchor on the destined ground.
“—And thus it was arrived the wished-for day,
“When I of them was in my garden found.
“Sir Odoric, at night, with fair array
“Of valiant men, by land and sea renowned,
“In the near river from his bark descends,
“And thence in silence to my garden wends.
XIV.
“To the pitched bark with me his party sped,
“Before the city knew what was at hand;
“Some o the house, disarmed and naked, fled,
“And some were slain; while of the helpless band,
“With me, another part was captive led.
“So was I severed from my native land,
“Hoping in brief Zerbino to possess,
“I cannot tell thee with what happiness.
XV.
“Scarcely was Mongia by our galley doubled[2],
“Ere a squall took us on the larboard side,
“Which round about the clear horizon troubled,
“And stirred and tost heaven-high the foaming tide.
“Smote with a north-west wind, next, ocean bubbled,
“Which on her other beam the vessel plied:
“This evermore increases, with such force,
“Starboard or larboard, boots not which our course.
XVI.
“It steads not to strike sail, nor lash the mast,
“Lowered on the gang-board, nor our castles fell[3];
“The bark, in our despite, is hurried fast
“Towards the pointed rocks about Rochelle:
“Save he, above, assist us at the last,
“The cruel storm will us ashore impel;
“Driven thither by ill wind with mightier speed
“Than ever bow-string gave to whistling reed.
XVII.
“Our peril well does the Biscayan note,
“And tries what often has an evil end;
“Lowers down the galley’s skiff, and, when afloat,
“Descends into it, and makes me descend:
“Two follow, and a troop would throng the boat,
“Did not the first prevent them, and defend
“The entrance with their naked faulchions; we
“Sever the rope forthwith, and put to sea[4].
XVIII.
“Driven landward, on the shore we safely light
“Who in the skiff embarked; while of our band
“The rest in the split vessel sink outright;
“Our goods sea-swallowed all. Upon the strand
“To eternal love, to goodness infinite,
“I offer up my thanks, with outstretched hand,
“That I was doomed not ’mid the watery roar
“To perish, nor behold Zerbino more.
XIX.
“Though I had left on shipboard matters rare,
“And precious in their nature, gem and vest,
“So I might hope Zerbino’s lot to share,
“I was content the sea should have the rest.
“No dwelling on the beach appears, nor there
“Is any pathway seen, by footsteps pressed;
“Only a hill, whose woody top is beat
“By ceaseless winds, the waters bathe its feet.
XX.
“Here the fell tyrant Love, aye prompt to range,
“And faithless to his every promise still,
“Who watches ever how he may derange
“And mar our every reasonable will,
“Converts, with woeful and disastrous change,
“My comfort to despair, my good to ill:
“For he, in whom Zerbino put his trust,
“Cooled in his loyal faith, and burned with lust.
XXI.
“Whether he this desire had nursed at sea,
“And had not dared exhibit it before;
“Or that it sprung from opportunity,
“Suggested by that solitary shore;
“Without more pause, in that lone desert, he
“Would sate his greedy passion; but forbore
“Till he of one could rid him, of the twain,
“Who in the boat with us had scaped the main.
XXII.
“A man of Scotland he, Almonio hight,
“Who to Zerbino seemed great faith to bear;
“And as a perfect warrior by the knight,
“Praised, when to Odoric given, his trust to share:
“To him (the Spaniard said) it were a slight
“If I unto Rochelle afoot should fare;
“And prayed, that he before would thither speed,
“And forward thence some hackney, for my need.
XXIII.
“Almonio, who in this suspects no ill,
“Forthwith, before our party, wends his way
“To the town, hidden by the wooded hill,
“And which not more than six miles distant lay.
“To the other finally his wicked will
“Sir Odoric took courage to display;
“As well because he could not rid him thence,
“As that in him he had great confidence.
XXIV.
“He that remained with us, of whom I said
“Before, Corebo was of Bilbao hight,
“Who with him under the same roof was bred
“From infancy, and the ungrateful wight
“Deemed that the thought he harboured in his head,
“He could impart in safety to the knight,
“Who would prefer, neglectful of his trust,
“The pleasure of his friend to what was just.
XXV.
“Not without high disdain Corebo heard
“(Who kind and courteous was) the Biscayneer,
“And termed him traitor; and by deed and word
“Withstood the purpose of his foul compeer.
“This mighty wrath in either warrior stirred;
“In sign whereof their naked brands they rear.
“At sight of their drawn swords, in panic, I
“Turn shortly through the gloomy wood to fly.
XXVI.
“Sir Odoric in war well taught and bred,
“Gained in few blows such vantage in the fray,
“He left Corebo on the field for dead,
“And, following in my steps, pursued my way.
“Love lent to him (unless I am misled)
“Pinions, that he might overtake his prey;
“And many a prayer and glozing flattery taught,
“Wherewith I to compliance might be wrought.
XXVII.
“But all in vain, for I was fixed and bent,
“Rather than sate his ill desire, to die.
“When menace had by him been vainly spent,
“And every prayer and every flattery,
“He would by open force his will content;
“Nor boots it aught that I entreaties try;
“Of his lord’s faith in him the wretch remind,
“And how myself I to his hands resigned.
XXVIII.
“When I perceived that fruitless was my prayer,
“And that I could not hope for other aid;
“For he assailed me like a famished bear,
“With hands and feet I fierce resistance made,
“As he more brutal waxed, and plucked his hair,
“And with my teeth and nails his visage flayed:
“This while I vent such lamentable cries,
“The clamour echoes to the starry skies.
XXIX.
“Were they by chance conducted, or my shriek,
“Which might have well been heard a league around,
“(Or, was it they were wont the shore to seek,
“When any vessel split or ran aground)
“I saw a crowd appear upon the peak,
“Which, to the sea descending, towards us wound.
“Them the Biscayan saw, and at the sight
“Abandoned his design, and turned to flight.
XXX.
“This rabble, sir, against that treacherous man
“Comes to my aid; but in such guise, that I
“The homely saw, of falling from the pan
“Into the fire beneath, but verify.
“’Tis true so lost I was not, nor that clan
“Accursed with minds of such iniquity,
“That they to violate my person sought;
“Though nothing good or virtuous on them wrought:
XXXI.
“But that they knew, for me preserved a maid,
“As yet I am, they higher price might crave.
“Eight months are past, the ninth arrived, since, stayed
“By them, alive I languish in this grave.
“All hope is lost of my Zerbino’s aid;
“For from their speech I gather, as a slave,
“I am bartered to a merchant for his gold;
“By whom I to the sultan shall be sold.”
XXXII.
The gentle damsel so her tale pursues,
While sobs and sighs oft interposing break
Her soft angelic voice, which might infuse
Compassion into asp, or venomed snake.
What time she so her piteous grief renews,
Or haply does her bitter anguish slake,
Some twenty men the gloomy cavern fill;
This armed with hunting-spear, and that with bill.
XXXIII.
With squinting look and dark, and but one eye,
The leader of the troop, of brutish cheer
Was he, the foremost of the company;
By a blow blinded, which from nose to ear
Had cleft his jaw: when he did so descry
Seated beside the maid, that cavalier,
He turned about and said; “Lo! in the net
Another bird for whom it was not set!”
XXXIV.
Then to the county cried; “I never knew
“A man more opportune my wants to stead;
“I know not whether any one to you
“Perchance may have announced my pressing need
“Of such fair arms, or you conjectured true,
“As well as of that goodly sable weed.
“You verily arrived in season are
“My needs (pursued the losel) to repair.”
XXXV.
With bitter smile, upstarting on his feet,
Orlando to the ruffian made reply:
“Thou at a price at which no chapmen treat,
“Unmarked in merchant’s books, these arms shalt buy:”
With that he snatched a brand, which, full of heat
And smoke, was smouldering in the chimney nigh,
Threw it, and smote by chance the knave half blind,
Where with the nose the meeting brows confined.
XXXVI.
The brand discharged by him, hit either brow,
But most severely on the left did smite;
For that ill feature perished by the blow,
Which was the thief’s sole minister of light.
Nor is the stroke content to blind the foe;
Unsated, save it register his sprite
Among those damned souls, whom Charon keeps[5],
With their companions, plunged in boiling deeps.
XXXVII.
A spacious table in mid cavern stood,
Two palms in thickness, in its figure square;
Propt on one huge, ill-fashioned foot and rude,
Which held the thief and all who harboured there.
Even with such freedom as his dart of wood
We mark the nimble Spaniard launch through air,
The heavy table Roland seized and threw,
Where, crowded close together, stood the crew.
XXXVIII.
One had his belly crushed, and one his breast;
Another head or arm, or leg and thigh.
Whence some were slain outright, and maimed the rest,
While he who was least injured sought to fly.
’Tis so sometimes, with heavy stone oppressed,
A knot of slimy snakes is seen to lie,
With battered heads and loins, where, winter done,
They lick their scales, rejoicing in the sun.
XXXIX.
I could not say what mischiefs these offend;
One dies, and one departs without its tail;
Another crippled cannot move an-end,
And wriggling wreathes its length without avail:
While this, whom more propitious saints befriend,
Safe through the grass drags off its slimy trail.
Dire was the stroke; yet should no wonder breed,
Since good Orlando’s arm achieved the deed.
XL.
Those whom the board had little maimed or nought,
(Turpin[6] says there were seven) in craven wise,
Their safety in their feet, yet vainly, sought;
For to the cavern’s door Orlando hies.
And having them without resistance caught,
Past with a rope their hands behind them ties;
A rope, which in the cavern on the ground,
Convenient for his purpose he had found.
XLI.
He after drags them- bound without the cave,
Where an old service-tree its shadow throws.
Orlando lops the branches with his glaive,
And hangs the thieves, a banquet for the crows:
Nor chain and crook for such a deed did crave:
For ready hooks the tree itself bestows,
To purge the world; where by the chin up-hung,
These, on the branches, bold Orlando strung.
XLII.
The ancient woman, the assassin’s friend,
Escapes when she perceives that all are dead,
And, threading that green labyrinth without end,
Laments, and plucks the hair from off her head,
By fear impelled, through paths which sore offend
Her feet, till she, beside a river’s bed,
Encounters with a warrior: but to say
Who was the stranger champion I delay;
XLIII.
And turn to her, who to the count applied,
Praying he would not leave her there alone,
And vowed to follow whither he would guide.
Orlando her consoles in courteous tone:
And thence, when, with a wreath of roses tied
About her brows, and robed in purple gown,
On wonted journey white Aurora starts,
The paladin with Isabel departs.
XLIV.
Without encountering aught that might appear
Worthy of note, they wended many a day;
And finally the twain a cavalier,
As prisoner led, encountered by the way.
Who shall be told; but, tale to you as dear
Now calls me from the beaten path away;
Of Aymon’s daughter, whom I left above,
Languid and lost in all the pains of love.
XLV.
The beauteous lady who desires in vain,
Rogero should not his return delay,
Lies in Marseilles, from whence the paynim train
She harasses, nigh each returning day;
(What time they robbing aye, by hill and plain,
Scower fruitful Languedoc and Provence gay)
And the true duty executes aright
Of a sage leader and a valiant knight.
XLVI.
The time long past, she, lying in that place,
Had hoped that her Rogero would appear,
She, not beholding him in all that space,
Of many evil chances lived in fear.
One day, mid others that her woeful case
The lady wept alone, to her drew near
The dame, who with that healing ring made sound
The bosom rankling with Alcina’s wound.
XLVII.
When her she saw, without her love returned,
(Such time elapsed, her mission incomplete),
Sore trembling, faint, and pale, her heart so yearned,
She scarce had strength to stand upon her feet.
But the enchantress kind, when she discerned
Her fear, advanced with smiles the maid to meet;
And to console her such glad visage wore
As messenger who joyful tidings bore.
XLVIII.
“Fear not for thy Rogero; he is well
“And safe (she cried), and ever worships thee,
“As wonted; but thy foe, that wizard fell,
“Him yet again deprives of liberty.
“And it behoves thee now to climb the sell,
“Would’st thou possess him, and to follow me;
“For if thou wendest with me, I will lead
“Whither, by thee Rogero shall be freed.”
XLIX.
And next pursued, relating to her all
The frauds and magic of Atlantes hoar,
‘That wearing her fair face, who seemed the thrall
‘Of an ill giant, him had through the door
‘Of gold, enticed into the enchanted hall,
‘And after disappeared, the youth before;
‘And told how dames and cavaliers he cheats
‘Who thither make resort, with like deceits.’
L.
“Seeing the sage, all think they see a squire,
“Companion, lady-love, or absent friend;
“Whatever is each several wight’s desire:
“Since to one scope our wishes never tend.
“Hence searching every where, themselves they tire
“With labour sore, and frustrate of their end;
“And cannot, (so Desire and Hope deceive),
“Without the missing good, that palace leave.
LI.
“As soon as thou (pursued the dame) art near
“The place where he has built the magic seat,
“Resembling thy Rogero in his cheer
“And every look, Atlantes thee shall meet,
“And make himself by his ill art appear
“As suffering from some stronger arm defeat;
“That thou may’st aid him in the peril feigned,
“And thus among those others be detained.
LII.
“To the end thou may’st escape his ambush, where
“So many and so many, thus betrayed,
“Have fallen; though he Rogero seem, beware
“To lend him faith, who will demand thine aid:
“Nor, when the sage presents himself, forbear
“To take his worthless life with lifted blade.
“Nor think to slay Rogero with the blow,
“But him who works thee still such cruel woe.
LIII.
“Hard will it seem to slay, full well I know,
“The wight, in whom Rogero you descry;
“But, for truth is not in the lying show,
“Trust not to sight where magic blears the eye.
“Fix, ere with me you to the forest go,
“To change not when the traiterous foe is nigh:
“For never shall with you Rogero wive,
“If weakly you the wizard leave alive.”
LIV.
The valorous maid with the intent to slay
The false enchanter, on her plan decides,
Snatches her arms, and follows on her way
Melissa sage, in whom she so confides.
And thus, by fruitful field or forest gray,
Her by forced journeys that enchantress guides;
And studies to beguile their weary course
Ever, as best she may, with sweet discourse:
LV.
And as the fairest topic of all those
Which might be grateful to the damsel’s ear,
Her future offspring and Rogero’s chose
(A race of demigods) in prince and peer.
For as Melissa all the secrets knows
Of the eternal gods who rule our sphere,
The good enchantress can discover all
Which should in many ages hence befall.
LVI.
“Oh! my best guide,” exclaimed the damsel bold
To the weird-woman that to aid her came,
“As thou hast many years before foretold
“Men who shall glorify my race and name,
“So now I pray thee, lady, to unfold
“The praise and virtues of some noble dame,
“If from my lineage any such shall rise.”
To whom Melissa courteously replies:
LVII.
“Chaste dames of thee descended I survey,
“Mothers of those who wear imperial crown,
“And mighty kings; the column and the stay
“Of glorious realms and houses of renown.
“And as thy sons will shine in arms, so they
“Will no less fame deserve in female gown,
“With piety and sovereign prudence graced,
“And noble hearts, incomparably chaste.
LVIII.
“And if at length I should relate to thee
“The praise of all who from thy root ascend,
“Too long my tale would hold, nor do I see
“Whom I could pass, where all to fame pretend.
“But from a thousand I some two or three
“Will choose, because my tale may have an end.
“Why was not in the cave thy wish made known,
“Where I their shadows might as well have shown?
LIX.
“To hear of one of thy famed race prepare,
“Whom liberal studies and good works engage;
“Of whom, I know not well, if she more fair
“May be entitled, or more chaste and sage;
“The noble-minded Isabel[7], who, where
“It stands on Minciu’s bank, in other age
“Shall gild the town, of Ocnus’ mother hight,
“With her own glorious rays by day and night;
LX.
“Where, with her worthiest consort she will strain,
“In honoured and in splendid rivalry,
“Which best shall prize the virtues’ goodly train,
“And widest ope the gates to courtesy.
“If he by Taro, and in Naples’ reign,
“(’Tis said), from Gauls delivered Italy[8],
“’Twill be replied, Penelope the chaste,
“As such, was not beneath Ulysses placed.
LXI.
“Great things and many thus I sum in few
“Of this brave dame, and others leave behind;
“Which when I from the vulgar herd withdrew,
“Sage Merlin from the hollow stone divined.
“For I should leave old Typhis[9] out of view,
“If on such sea I launched before the wind:
“And with this finish my prophetic strain,
“—All blessings on her head the skies will rain.
LXII.
“With her shall be her sister Beatrice[10],
“Whose fortunes well shall with her name accord;
“Who, while she lives, not only shall not miss
“What good the heavens to those below afford,
“But make, with her, partaker of her bliss,
“First among wealthy dukes, her cherished lord;
“Who shall, when she from hence receives her call,
“Into the lowest depth of misery fall.
LXIII.
“Viscontis’ serpents will be held in dread[11],
“And Moro and Sforza, while this dame shall be,
“From Hyperborean snows to billows red;
“From Ind to hills, which to a double sea
“Afford a passage[12]; and, the lady dead,
“To the sore mischief of all Italy,
“Will with the Insubri into slavery fall;
“And men shall sovereign wisdom fortune call.
LXIV.
“Others the same illustrious name will bear[13],
“And who will nourish many years before.
“Pannonia’s garland one of these shall wear.
“Another matron on the Ausonian shore,
“When she shall be released from earthly care,
“Men will among the blessed saints adore;
“With incense will approach the dame divine,
“And hang with votive images her shrine.
LXV.
“The others I shall pass in silence by,
“For ’twere too much (as said before) to sound
“Their fame; though each might well deserve, that high
“Heroic trump should in her praise be wound.
“Hence the Biancas and Lucretias I
“And Constances and more reserve; who found,
“Or else repair, upon Italian land,
“Illustrious houses with supporting hand.
LXVI.
“Thy race, which shall all else in this excel,
“In the rare fortune of its women thrives;
“Nor of its daughters’ honour more I tell
“Than of the lofty virtue of its wives:
“And that thou may’st take note of this as well,
“Which Merlin said of thy descendants’ lives,
“(Haply that I the story might narrate)
“This I no little covet to relate.
LXVII.
“Of good Richarda first shall be my strain[14],
“Mirror of chastity and fortitude,
“Who, young, remains a widow, in disdain
“Of fortune: (that which oft awaits the good)
“Exiles, and cheated of their father’s reign,
“She shall behold the children of her blood
“Wandering into the clutches of their foe;
“Yet find at last a quittance for her woe.
LXVIII.
“Nor sprung from the ancient root of Aragon,
“I of the gorgeous queen will silent be;
“Than whom more prudent or more chaste is none,
“Renowned in Greek or Latin history;
“Nor who so fortunate a course will run,
“After that, by divine election, she
“Shall with the goodly race of princes swell,
“Alphonso, Hyppolite, and Isabel.
LXIX.
“The prudent Eleanour is this; a spray[15]
“Which will be grafted on thy happy tree.
“What of the fruitful stepchild shall I say,
“Who in succession next to her I see,
“Lucretia Borgia[16]? who, from day to day,
“Shall wax in beauty, virtue, chastity,
“And fortune, that like youthful plant will shoot,
“Which into yielding soil has struck its root.
LXX.
“As tin by silver, brass by gold, as Corn-
“Poppy beside the deeply-crimsoning rose,
“Willow by laurel evergreen, as shorn
“Of light, stained glass by gem that richly glows,
“—So by this dame I honour yet unborn,
“Each hitherto distinguished matron shows;
“For beauty and for prudence claiming place,
“And all praise-worthy excellence and grace.
LXXI.
“And above every other noble praise,
“Which shall distinguish her alive or dead,
“Is that by her shall be, through kingly ways,
“Her Hercules and other children led;
“Who thus the seeds of worth in early days,
“To bloom in council and in camp, will shed.
“For long wine’s savour lingers in the wood
“Of the new vessel, whether bad or good.
LXXII.
“Nor the step-daughter of this noble dame,
“Will I, Renata[17], hight of France, forget,
“Of Louis born, twelfth monarch of his name,
“And Bretagne’s pride; all virtues ever yet
“Bestowed on woman, since the ruddy flame
“Has warmed, or water had the power to wet,
“Or overhead the circling heavens have rolled,
“United in Renata I behold.
LXXIII.
“’Twere long to tell of Alda de Sansogna[18],
“Or of Celano’s countess in this string,
“Or Blanche Maria, stiled of Catalonia;
“Or her, the daughter of Sicilia’s king,
“Or of the beauteous Lippa de Bologna,
“Or more, with whose renown the world shall ring,
“To speak whose separate praise with fitting lore,
“Were to attempt a sea without a shore.”
LXXIV.
When of the larger portion of her seed
The kind enchantress at full ease had told,
And oft and oft rehearsed, amid the rede,
What, arts Rogero to the wizard’s hold
Had drawn, Melissa halted near the mead
Where stood the mansion of Atlantes old,
Nor would approach the magic dome more nigh,
Lest her the false magician should espy.
LXXV.
And yet again advised the martial maid,
(Counsel she had a thousand times bestowed)
Then left. Nor Bradamant through greenwood shade
More than two miles in narrow path had rode,
Before, by two fierce giants overlaid,
She saw a knight, who like Rogero showed,
So closely pressed, and labouring sore for breath,
That he appeared well nigh reduced to death.
LXXVI.
When she beheld him in such perilous strait,
Who of Rogero all the tokens wore,
She quickly lost the faith she nourished late,
Quickly her every fair design forbore.
She weens Melissa bears Rogero hate,
For some new injury unheard before;
And with unheard-of hate and wrong, her foe
Would by her hand destroy who loves him so.
LXXVII.
She cried, “And is not this Rogero, who
“Aye present to my heart, is now to sight?
“If ’tis not him whom I agnize and view,
“Whom e’er shall I agnize or view aright?
“Why should I other’s judgment deem more true
“Than the belief that’s warranted by sight?
“Even without eyes, and by my heart alone,
“If he were near or distant, would be shown.”
LXXVIII.
While so the damsel thinks, a voice she hears,
Which, like Rogero’s, seems for aid to cry;
At the same time, the worsted knight appears
To slack the bridle and the rowels ply:
While at full speed the goaded courser clears
His ground, pursued by either enemy.
Nor paused the dame, in following them who sought
His life, till to the enchanted palace brought.
LXXIX.
Of which no sooner has she past the door,
Than she is cheated by the common show.
Each crooked way or straight her feet explore
Within it and without, above, below;
Nor rests she night or day, so strong the lore
Of the enchanter, who has ordered so,
She (though they still encounter and confer)
Knows not Rogero, nor Rogero her.
LXXX.
But leave we Bradamant, nor grieve, O ye
Who hear, that she is prisoned by the spell,
Since her in fitting time I shall set free,
And good Rogero, from the dome as well.
As taste is quickened by variety,
So it appears that, in the things I tell,
The wider here and there my story ranges,
It will be found less tedious for its changes.
LXXXI.
Meseems that I have many threads to clear
In the great web I labour evermore;
And therefore be ye not displeased to hear
How, all dislodged, the squadrons of the Moor,
Threatening the golden lilies loud, appear
In arms, the royal Agramant before:
Who bids for a review his army post,
Willing to know the numbers of his host.
LXXXII.
For besides horse and foot, in the campaign
Sore thinned, whose numbers were to be supplied,
Had many captains, and those good, of Spain,
Of Libya, and of Æthiopia, died;
And thus the nations, and the various train,
Wandered without a ruler or a guide.
To give to each its head and order due,
The ample camp is mustered in review.
LXXXIII.
To fill the squadrons ravaged by the sword,
In those fierce battles and those conflicts dread,
This to his Spain, to his Africa that lord,
Sent to recruit, where well their files they fed;
And next distributed the paynim horde
Under their proper captains, ranged and led.
I, with your leave, till other strain, delay
The order of the muster to display.
NOTES TO CANTO XIII.
My father in his city of Bayonne
(To-day will be twelve months) a tourney dight, &c.
Stanza vi. lines 1 and 2.
It may perhaps be necessary to remark that the poet does not mean Bayonne of Gascony, but Bayonne of Galicia, the capital of his kingdom who made the jousts.
Scarcely was Mongia by our galley doubled.
Stanza xv. line 1.
Mongia or Mogia is a sea-port town of Galicia.
It steads not to strike sail, nor lash the mast,
Lowered on the gang-board, nor our castles fell.
Stanza xvi. lines 1 and 2.
In the original,
Non giova calar vele, e l’ arbor sopra
Corsia[1] legar, nè ruinar castella, &c.
Corsìa is the same as the French word coursier, and among other meanings signifies the gang-board, that in a galley is laid fore and aft, and on which the rowers pass from stem to stern, or vice versâ; a very natural place for securing the mast when unshipped.
The castles, used for warlike purposes, were wooden imitations of the buildings whose names they bear, and may be seen in the tapestry of the house of lords representing the defeat of the Spanish armada, a memorial of which is still preserved in our term of fore-castle.
The cutting away such top-lumber would of course tend materially to lighten a vessel in a storm.
“Our peril well does the Blscayan note,
“And tries what often has an evil end;
“Lowers down the galley’s skiff, and, when afloat,
“Descends into it, and makes me descend:
“Two follow; and a troop would throng the boat,
“Did not the first prevent them, and defend
“The entrance with their naked faulchions; we
“Sever the rope forthwith, and put to sea.
Stanza xvii.
Strange as this manœuvre (however qualified by the observation in the second line) may appear in the eyes of an English seaman, I read not very long ago, in the records of a court of justice, the statement of a proceeding nearly similar in its circumstances. A Mediterranean vessel (I think a polacca) finding herself under the necessity of bearing up, wore and ran away before the sea, though the land was under her lee-bow. On nearing this, the crew anchored her, and made for the shore in their boat. They reached it safely, and from thence saw their vessel founder. Circumstances peculiar to this sea may serve to explain such conduct: but I do not know that any traveller except Roger North, amid all the Italian travels and Mediterranean voyages with which our press overflows, has ever noticed so remarkable a phenomenon. He observes of this sea, “that when you have a handsome gale in the offing, drawing near the land, you shall find the gale wear away.” For the wind, when violent at sea, does not, as the sailors say, always blow home in the Mediterranean; but often lulls, on approaching the land, where its figure and height produce the effect of a wall built across a gully, which, by stopping the current of air, produces a calm even on its weather-side. The sea, moreover, from there being a less extent of water, soon goes down; and there is therefore less danger in running for the land.
An effect somewhat similar to what I have mentioned, I mean that of a lee-shore being disarmed of its terrors, may be witnessed at home on approaching the high cliffs at the back of the Isle of Wight; though the calm is uncertain, and very confined in its extent. Something of the same kind also may be witnessed on the Dorsetshire coast, though arising out of a different cause. Thus vessels may be seen riding at anchor, not only in perfect safety, but with stern to wind, in Studland-bay, when both wind and sea are dead on shore. The reason of this seems to be found in the strength of the under-tow or lower outset of the sea, which restores the redundant quantity of water forced into the bay, and which is from some local circumstances stronger, or at least acts nearer the surface, in the place of anchorage.
The reader will recollect the sailors resorting to the manœuvre mentioned in the text, in the story of St. Paul’s shipwreck, which may show how common was the practice attributed to the Biscayneer. While I am upon this subject I cannot resist the temptation of relating a story arising out of this; because it will show how local experience removes difficulties, and of a graver nature than those which I have here attempted to explain. It happened that the lesson, which made part of one Sunday morning’s service, read on board a king’s ship in the Mediterranean, was that in which St. Paul gives a description of this shipwreck; and some of the men were observed to exchange significant glances at the idea of anchoring from the stern in the situation he described. A few days afterwards the ship arrived at the very island which is the supposed scene of the catastrophe, and moored in the port of La Valletta, in which lay some Greek vessels, whose high sterns might have preserved them from the danger incidental to anchoring from such a part. Many of the sailors were observing these, whose construction was new to them, and one was heard to say to a comrade: “You see, Jemmy, the saint was no such lubber as we took him for.”
Among those damned souls, whom Charon keeps,
With their companions, plunged in boiling deeps.
Stanza xxxvi. lines 7 and 8.
In the original,
Tra quelli spirti che con suoi compagni
Fà star Caron dentro a i bollenti stagni.
I have preserved the most popular reading ; but it seems (if we are to believe Fornari) that the old editions read Chiron instead of Charon: and it must be observed, that the old Italians would have preserved the h in both these words. And, though Ariosto would seem to have been a man to have addressed what he wrote rather to the mob of readers than to the learned, we must recollect that the reading public of Ariosto’s age was very different from that of our own, and that some learning at least was its characteristic. With this before our eyes, we may suspect Chiron to have been intended by the poet: for it was not the business of Charon, the ferryman of hell, to keep damned souls in the boiling deeps, but to transport such across them; whereas this is the office assigned by Dante to Chiron, with the centaurs, his companions, who in the seventh circle of hell watch over lakes of boiling blood, in which are immersed sinners of the description of him in the text. See Dante‘s Inferno, canto xii.
Now Dante was probably as familiar to Ariosto’s readers in his century as Shakespeare is to us.
I would not however disturb the more general reading of the text, upon the strength of a plausible conjecture, though it is supported by the assertion of Fornari.
Turpin says there were seven, &c.
Stanza xl. line 2.
“The fabulous history of these wars (Charlemagne’s) was written probably towards the close of the eleventh century, by a monk, who thinking it would add dignity to his work to embellish it with a cotemporary name, boldly ascribed it to Turpin, who was archbishop of Rheims about the year 773. This is the book so frequently quoted by Ariosto.”—Ellis’s preface to Way’s Fabliaux.
The noble-mmded Isabel, &c.
Stanza lix. line 5.
Isabella, a lady eminent for her many virtues, daughter of Hercules, duke of Ferrara, sister of Alfonso and Ippolito, and wife of Francisco Gonzaga, lord of Mantua, the city situated on the Mincius ‘of Ocnus, mother hight,’ to wit of Manto, the daughter of Tiresias, otherwise called Bianor, who, after the destruction of Thebes, is said to have fled to Italy, and established herself among the swamps of the Mincius, a place which she found favourable to the prosecution of the arts, in which she had been initiated by her father. Here her son Ocnus is said, after his mother’s death, to have founded a small city which he called Mantua, in honour of her memory.
Dante’s account of the wanderings and settlement of Manto, which, however, says nothing of Ocnus, and makes Manto a virgin, affords so good a specimen of his powers of precise and picturesque local description that I willingly profit by this opportunity to assign it a place among my notes.
Dante meets a female phantom in hell, and Virgil informs him that this
Manto fu, che cercò per terre molte,
Poscia si pose là dove nacqui io:
Onde un poco mi place, che m’ ascolte.
Poscia che ’l padre suo di vita uscìo,
E venne serva la città di Baco,
Questa gran tempo per lo mondo gìo.
Suso in Italia bella giace un laco
Appiè de l’Alpe, che serra Lamagua,
Sovra Tiralli, ed ha nome Benaco:
Per mille fonti, credo, e più si bagna,
Tra Garda, e val Camonica e Apennino,
De l’acqua, che nel detto lago stagna:
Luogo è nel mezzo, là dove ’l Trentino
Pastore, e quel di Brescia, e’l Veronese
Segnar potria, se fesse quel cammino.
Siede Peschiera, bello e forte arnese,
Da fronteggiar Bresciani e Bergamaschi,
Onde la riva intorno più discese.
Ivi convien che tutto quanto caschi
Ciò che’n grembo a Benaco star non pùo;
E fassi fiume giù pe’ verdi paschi.
Tosto che l’acqua a correr mette cò,
Non più Benaco, ma Mincio si chiama,
Fino à Governo, dove cade in Pò.
Non molto ha corso che trova una lama,
Ne la qual si distende e l’ampaluda,
E suol di state talora esser grama.
Quindi passando, la vergine cruda
Ristette co’ suoi servi, a far su’ arti,
E visse, e vi lasciò suo corpo vano.
Gli uomini poi che ’ntorno erano sparti,
S’ accolsero in quel luogo, ch’ era forte,
Per lo pantan, ch’ avea da tutte parti.
Fer la città sovra quell’ ossa morte,
E per colei che ’l luogo prima elesse,
Mantova l’ appellar’, senza’ altra sorte.
L’Inferno, canto xx.
———Was Manto; she who searched
Through many regions, and at length her seat
Fixed in my native land; whence a short space
My words detain thy audience. When her sire
From life departed, and in servitude
The city, dedicate to Bacchus, mourned,
Long time she went a wanderer through the world.
Aloft in Italy’s delightful land,
A lake there lies, at foot of that proud Alp,
That o’er the Tyrol locks Germania in,
Its name Benacus; which a thousand rills,
Methinks, and more, water, between the vale
Camonica and Garda and the height
Of Apennine remote. There is a spot
At midway of that lake, where he who bears
Of Trento’s flock the pastoral staff, with him
Of Brescia and the Veronese might each
Passing that way, his benedction give.
A garrison of goodly sight and strong,
Peschiera stands, to awe with front opposed
The Bergamese and Brescian: whence the shore
More slope, each way descends. There whatsoe’er
Benacus’ bosom holds not, tumbling o’er
Down falls, and winds a river flood beneath,
Through the green pastures. Soon as in his course
The stream makes head, Benacus then no more
They call the name, but Mincius, till at last
Reaching Governo into Po he falls.
Not far his course hath run, when a wide flat
It finds, which overstretching, as a marsh
It covers, pestilent in summer oft.
Hence journeying the savage maiden saw
’Midst of the fen, a territory waste
And naked of inhabitants. To shun
All human converse, here she with her slaves
Plying her arts remained, and lived, and left
Her body tenantless. Thenceforth the tribes
Who round were scattered, gathering to that place,
Assembled; for its strength was great, enclosed
On all parts by the fen. On those dead bones
They reared themselves a city for her sake,
Calling it Mantua, who first chose the spot,
Nor asked another omen for the name.
Cary’s Translation.
Manto is usually called a fairy by Ariosto and the old Italian writers, and this is quite in the spirit of the middle ages, when not only a supernatural race of females, like the Persian peries, but women, supposed to be versed in the occult arts, were so denominated. Thus we are told in the Mort Arthur, how that king’s sister was a fairy, who was brought up in a nunnery, where she learned so much that she became a great clerk in necromancy.
“If he by Taro, and in Naples’ reign,
“(’Tis said), from Gauls delivered Italy.”
Stanza lx. lines 5 and 6.
Ariosto alludes to the victory gained by Gonzaga, duke of Mantua, upon the river Taro, over Charles VII. of France, and the expulsion of the French from the kingdom of Naples. I need hardly add, he means to say, in the concluding lines, that the domestic are not less praiseworthy than the more active and brilliant virtues.
For I should leave old Typhis out of view,
If on such sea I launched before the wind.
Stanza lxi. lines 5 and 6.
i. e. I should embark on a more immeasurable sea than that traversed by the Argonauts: for Typhis was the pilot of the Argo.
With her shall be her sister Beatrice, &c.
Stanza lxii. line 1.
This was Beatrice, the wife of Ludovico Sforza, who lost his dukedom soon after her death; a circumstance which explains the remainder of the stanza.
Viscontis’ serpents shall be held in dread,
And Moro and Sforza, &c.
Stanza lxiii. lines 1 and 2.
In the original,
E Moro e Sforza e i Viscontei Colubri.
Which Viscontei Colubri Mr. Hoole translates Calabria’s earls (Calabrian viscounts would not conie into his verse) . He was evidently confusing Calabrians with colubri (snakes), and the Viscontis with viscounts; and but for this, I should hardly have thought it necessary to state that the Viscontis were lords of Milan, and the snake was the armorial bearing of the Viscontis and the Milanese.
La vipera che i Milanesi accampa.
Dante
The viper, standard of the Milanese.
The Insubri mentioned in this stanza, I have already remarked, were the inhabitants of a district of Lombardy.
Two lines in a preceding stanza, in which there is mention of Louis’s exploits in Italy, which have been already commented on, that is to say,
S’un narrarà ch’ al Taro e nel reame
Fu a liberar da’ Galli Italia forte.
Hoole renders,
‘In Rheims and Taro’s land;
While Gauls repulsed confessed his conquering hand—’
supposing that Rheims, the capital of Champagne, was the translation of reame, that is, the kingdom; meaning the kingdom of Naples. I am induced to point out these additional blunders, to show how entirely unfit Hoole was for the discharge of the duties of an editor, for the happy execution of which he is praised by one who has spoken of him with sovereign contempt as a translator.
From Ind to hills which to a double sea
Afford a passage.
Stanza lxiii. lines 4 and 5.
From India to the straits of Gibraltar.
Others the same illustrious name will bear, &c.
Stanza lxiv. line 1.
That is to say, shall bear the same name of Beatrice. The one who was to wreathe her hair with Pannonia’s crown was Beatrice, daughter of Ferdinand, king of Naples, sister of Leonora, duchess of Ferrara, and wife of Mathias Corvinus, king of Hungary, i. e. Pannonia. The other lady alluded to was Beatrice of Este, canonized at Rome.
Of good Richarda first shall be my strain, &c.
Stanza lxvii. line 1.
Richarda, wife of Nicholas of Este, found herself in the situation ascribed to her in the text. Her son Hercules, dispossessed of his lordship by Lionello and Borso, was obliged to go into exile, and take refuge with Alphonso of Arragon, but in the end fully recovered his inheritance.
The prudent Ekanour is this, &c.
Stanza lxix. line 1.
The Hercules, mentioned in the preceding note, took to wife Leonora, daughter of Ferdinand, king of Arragon, with whom he had taken refuge, which Leonora brought him the Alphonso, Ippolito, and Isabella, celebrated by the poet.
Lucretia Borgia, &c.
Stanza lxix. line 5.
Lucretia Borgia was a daughter of Pope Alexander VI. who was three times married, and took for her third husband Alphonso, duke of Ferrara.
Nor the step-daughter of this noble dame,
Will I, Renata, hight of France, forget, &c.
Stanza lxxii. lines 1 and 2.
Renata was daughter of Louis XII. of France, and Anne of Bretagne, and daughter-in-law of Lucretia Borgia, since she was married to Hercules the Second, her son, who was lord of Ferrara after the death of his father.
’Twere long to tell of Alda de Sansogna, &c.
Stanza lxxiii. line 1.
Alda was the daughter of Otho, whom we read of as given in wedlock to Albertazo in the third canto, in which the other ladies mentioned in this stanza are also commemorated. I refer the reader thither, if he has any pleasure in the chase, and has patience to run the heel upon this stale scent.
- ↑ In a foot-note to Isola’s edition of the Furioso, published for the benefit of English students of Italian, I find coursey given as the equivalent of corsìa.