Orlando Furioso Part 95

The cruel stripling knows what pangs I prove, Yet will not aid me till I am in my grave.

Nor let me tell my sorrows, lest they move Him his perverse and evil will to wave; Shunning me like malignant asp, that fears To change his mood, if he the charmer hears.

XX "Ah! Love, arrest this wight who runs so free, Outstripping my slow feet, or me install In the condition whence thou tookest me, Such as I was, ere thine or other's thrall.

-- Alas! how vain the hope! that thou shouldst be Ever to pity moved by suppliant call, Who sport, yea feed and live, in streams that rise From the distracted lover's br.i.m.m.i.n.g eyes.

XXI "But, woe is me, alas! and, what can I Save my irrational desire lament?

Which makes me soar a pitch so pa.s.sing high, I reach a region, where my plumes are brent; Then, unsustained, fall headlong from the sky; Nor ends my woe; on other flight intent, Again I imp my wings, again I soar; To flame and fall, tormented evermore.

XXII "Yea; rather of myself should I complain, Than the desire, to which I bared my breast Whereby was Reason hunted from her reign, And all my powers by stronger force opprest.

Thus borne from bad to worse, without a rein, I cannot the unbridled beast arrest; Who makes me see I to destruction haste, That I more bitterness in death may taste.

XXIII "Yet, ah! why blame myself? Wherein have I Ever offended, save in loving thee?

What wonder was it then that suddenly A woman's feeble sense opprest should be?

Why fence and guard myself, lest bearing high, Wise words, and beauty rare should pleasure me?

Most wretched is the mortal that would shun To look upon the visage of the sun.

XXIV "Besides that me my destiny entrained, Words, worthy credence, moved me much, that drew A picture of rare happiness, ordained As meed of this fair unless to ensue.

If these persuasive words were false and feigned, If famous Merlin's counsel was untrue, Wrath at the wizard may I well profess; But cannot therefore love Rogero less.

XXV "Both Merlin and Melissa have I need To blame, and shall for ever blame the twain, That, to exhibit suckers of my seed, Conjured up spirits from infernal reign, Who with this empty hope my fancy feed, Me in perpetual bondage to detain.

Nor other cause for this can I suppose, Save that they grudge me safe and sweet repose."

XXVI Sorrow the maid so wholly occupies, Room has she none for comfort or for rest.

Yet, maugre her affliction, Hope will rise, And form a lodgement in her hara.s.sed breast; And to the damsel's memory still supplies Rogero's parting words to her addrest; So makes her, in all seeming facts' despite, Await from hour to hour the youthful knight.

XXVII For a month's s.p.a.ce beyond those twenty days This hope affords fair Bradamant content: Hence sorrow not on her so heavy weighs As it would else her hara.s.sed soul have shent.

She, one day that along the road she strays, By which she oft to meet Rogero went, Hears tidings, that of Hope -- last comfort left -- (Like every other good) her breast bereft.

XXVIII Bound homeward from the hostile camp, where lay King Agramant, she met a Gascon knight, A prisoner to those paynims, from the day, That fought nigh Paris was the famous fight.

The damsel prest him all he knew to say: Then to the point she covets led the knight: Asks of Rogero, on that theme abides, Listens to that, not aught inquires besides.

XXIX Of him a full account did he afford, As well acquainted with the court; he said How, matched with Mandricardo, strove that lord, And layed the martial king in combat dead.

And how, sore wounded by the Tartar's sword, Above a month the stripling kept his bed: And had the stranger here but closed his news, Well might his tale the missing knight excuse.

x.x.x But then subjoins the Gascon cavalier How in the Moorish camp a damsel lies, By name Marphisa hight, of beauteous cheer, Bold and as skilled in arms of every guise, Who loves Rogero and to him is dear; And then the host so rarely sundered spies, That every one, throughout the paynim train, Deems that betrothed in wedlock are the twain.

x.x.xI And hope, when healed shall be the youthful knight, The marriage of those lovers will succeed; (For sure) with pleasure and sincere delight, Those tidings paynim prince and monarch read: Since, knowing either's superhuman might, They augur, from their loins will spring a breed, In little season, which shall pa.s.s in worth The mightiest race that ever was on earth.

x.x.xII What he rehea.r.s.ed, the Gascon knight believed, Nor without cause believed the news he bore, A rumour universally received And bruited through the squadrons of the Moor; Who had that notion of their love conceived From signs of kindness witnessed evermore.

For -- good or bad -- though from one mouth it flows, Fame to a boundless torrent quickly grows.

x.x.xIII That she with him had brought the Paynim aid, And ne'er was seen without the cavalier, The first foundation of the rumour layed: But what confirmed that fame in every ear, Was, that she, having from the camp conveyed The thief Brunello (as I sang whilere) As if alone to see Rogero brought, Had to the camp returned, uncalled, unsought.

x.x.xIV She solely to the camp had ta'en her way, To visit him that on a sick-bed smarted; Nor once alone; but often all the day There pa.s.sed that maid, and but at eve departed: Who gave yet greater cause of her to say, That -- known as one so haughty and hard-hearted, Who all the world despised -- she now was grown Benign and humble to the Child alone.

x.x.xV When Bradamant the Gascon's story heard, That lady suffered such tormenting pain, Such cruel woe her inmost bosom stirred, From falling she preserved herself with pain.

She turned her courser round, without a word, Inflamed with jealousy and fierce disdain: From her all hope the wretched damsel spurns, And to her chamber breathing wrath returns.

x.x.xVI Turned on her face, her body on the bed, Armed as she is, th4e grieving damsel throws, And that the sad lament by sorrow bred, May be unheard of any, bites the clothes; And so, repeating what the stranger said, To such a pitcher her smothered anguish grows, Her plaints no longer able to restrain, So vents the maid parforce her piteous pain:

x.x.xVII "Who ever can be trusted? woe is me!

All false and cruel well may be esteemed, If thou, Rogero, false and cruel be, That I so pious and so faithful deemed.

What foul and felon act, what treachery, Was ever yet by tragic poet dreamed, But will fall short of thine, if thou wilt set The sum of my desert, against thy debts?

x.x.xVIII "Wherefore, Rogero, since no cavalier Mates thee in beauteous form and daring feat, Since thou in matchless valour hast no peer, And none with thee in gentleness compete, Why cannot we, 'mid G.o.dlike gifts and clear, Allow thee truth, thy graces to complete?

The praise of spotless truth to thee allow, To which all other virtues yield and bow?

x.x.xIX "Knowest thou not, without it, worthless are All gentle bearing and all martial might?

As there is nothing, howsoever fair, That can be seen without the aid of light.

Easily mightest thou a maid ensnare, Lord as thou was, and idol in her sight.

Her with thy honied words thou might'st have won, To deem that cold and darksome was the sun.

XL "Cruel, what sin can trouble thee, if thou Do'st not her murder who loved thee repent?

If held so lightly be a breach of vow -- Beneath what burden will thy heart be bent?

What treatment will thine adversary know, If one who loves like me thou so torment?

Justice is none in heaven, I well may say, If Heaven its vengeance for my wrongs delay.

XLI "If of all human sins of deepest dye Be fell ingrat.i.tude; if doomed to smart For this, the fairest angel of the sky Was banished into foul and darksome part; If mighty sins for mighty vengeance cry, Where due atonement cleanses not the heart; Beware lest thou beneath such vengeance groan, Ingrate! that wouldest not thy sin atone.

XLII "Cruel Rogero, I of theft, beside All other sins, may justly thee arraign.

That thou my heart has ravished form my side, -- Of this offence I will not, I complain -- But, having made it mine, that thou defied All right, and took away thy gift again.

Restore it; well thou know'st what pains requite His sin, who keeps what is another's right.

XLIII "Thou hast left me, Rogero; thee to leave, Alas! I neither will nor power possess.

But will and power have I my life to reave, To scape from this o'erwhelming wretchedness.

To die at strife with thee alone I grieve: For, had the G.o.ds so pleased my lot to bless, As to require my life, when loved of thee, Never so welcome had been death to me."

XLIV Resolved to die, 'twas so the damsel cried; And starting from her bed, by pa.s.sion warmed, To her left breast her naked sword applied; Then recollected she was wholly armed.

Meanwhile her better Spirit, at her side, With these persuasive words her fury charmed: "O lady, born to such ill.u.s.trious name!

Would'st thou conclude thy life with such foul shame?

XLV "Were it not better to the field to go, Where aye thy breath with glory may be spent?

There, should Rogero chance to lay thee low, He to have slain thee haply may repent; But, should his faulchion deal the mortal blow, What death could ever yield thee more content?

Reason it were thou should'st by him be slain, Who dooms thee living to such pa.s.sing pain.

XLVI "Haply of that Marphisa, too, before Thou die, thou yet may deadly vengeance take, Who with dishonest love and treacherous lore Did thy beloved Rogero's fealty shake."

This seemed to please the mournful lady more Than her first thought; and she forthwith bade make A mantle for her arms, which should imply Her desperation and desire to die.

XLVII The vest is of that colour which is spied In leaf, when gray and yellow are at strife; When it is gathered from the branch, or dried Is the green blood, that was it's parent's life.

Embroidered is the surcoat's outer side With stems of cypress which disdain the knife; Which shoot not, when by biting steel laid low.

A habit well according with her woe.

XLVIII She took the courser that was wont to bear Astolpho, and with him the lance of gold, By whose sole touch unhorsed all champions were.

Needless anew I deem it to unfold Why by Astolpho given, and when and where, Or how that spear obtained the warrior bold.

The lady took the lance, but nothing guessed Of the stupendous virtue it possessed.

XLIX Without attendants, without squire, alone, The hill descending by the nearest way, Toward Paris is the mournful damsel gone, Where camped erewhile the Moorish forces lay; For yet to her the tidings were unknown, That good Rinaldo and his bold array Had raised, with Charles' and Malagigi's aid, The siege the paynims had to Paris laid.

L -- Cadurci, and Cahors city left behind -- Bradamant sees the mountain, far and near, Whence Dordogne's waters to the valley wind; And Montferrant's and Clermont's towers appear: When she, a lady fair, of semblance kind, Beholds, by that same road, towards her steer.