Part 123 (1/2)

Brandimart sees his risque, and at the foe Is by his steed, with flowing bridle, borne.

Sobrino on the head he smote and flung; But straight from earth that fierce old man upsprung;

Lx.x.xIX And turned anew to Olivier, to speed The warrior's soul more promptly on its way; Or at the least that baron to impede.

And him beneath his courser keep at bay: Bold Olivier, whose better arm was freed, And with his sword could fend him as he lay, Meanwhile so smites and longes, there and here, That at sword's length he holds the ancient peer.

XC He hopes, if him but little he withstood, He shall be straight delivered from that pain: He sees him wholly strained and wet with blood, And that he spills so much from open vein, 'Twould seem he speedily must be subdued, So weak he hardly can himself sustain.

Often and oft to rise the Marquis strove, Yet could not from beneath his courser move.

XCI Brandimart has found out the royal Moor, And storms about that paynim cavalier; Upon Frontino, like a lathe, before, Beside, or whirling in the warrior's rear.

A goodly horse the Christian champion bore; Nor worse the southern king's in the career: That Brigliador, Rogero's gift he crost, Erewhile, by haughty Mandricardo lost.

XCII Great vantage has he, on another part: Of proof and perfect is his iron weed.

His at a venture took Sir Brandimart, As he could have in haste in suchlike need; But hopes (his anger puts him so in heart) To change it for a better coat with speech; Albeit the Moorish king, with bitter blow, Has made the blood from his right should flow.

XCIII Him in the flank Grada.s.so too had gored; (Nor this was laughing matter) so had scanned His vantage that redoubted paynim lord, He found a place wherein to plant his brand; He broke the warrior's s.h.i.+eld, his left arm bored, And touched him slightly in the better hand.

But this was play, was pastime (might be said), With Roland's and Grada.s.so's battle weighed.

XCIV Grada.s.so has Orlando half disarmed; Atop and on both sides his helm has broke: Fallen is his s.h.i.+eld, his cuira.s.s split; but harmed The warrior is not by the furious stroke, Which opened plate and mail; for he is charmed; And worser vengeance on the king has wroke, In face, throat, breast has gored that cavalier, Beside the wounds whereof I spake whilere.

XCV Grada.s.so, desperate when he descried Himself all wet, and smeared with sanguine dye, And Roland, all from head to foot espied, After such mighty strokes unstained and dry, Thinking head, breast, and belly to divide, With both his hands upheaved his sword on high; And, even as he devised, upon the front, Smote with mid blade Anglantes' haughty count.

XCVI And would by any other so have done; -- Would to the saddle-tree have cleft him clean: But the good sword, as if it fell upon Its flat, rebounds again, unstained and sheen.

The furious stroke astounded Milo's son By whom some scattered stars on earth were seen.

He drops the bridle and would drop the brand, But that a chain secures it to his hand.

XCVII So by the noise was scared the horse that bore Upon his back Anglantes' cavalier.

The courser scowered about the powdery sh.o.r.e, Showing how good his speed in the career: The County by that stroke astounded sore, Has not the power the frightened horse to steer.

Grada.s.so follows and will reach him, so That he but little more pursues the foe;

XCVIII But turning round, beholds the royal Moor To the utmost peril in that battle brought; For by the s.h.i.+ning helmet which he wore, With the left hand, him Brandimart had caught; Already had unlaced the casque before, And with his dagger would new ill have wrought: Nor much defence could make the Moorish lord; For Brandimart as well had reft his sword.

XCIX Grada.s.so turned, nor more Orlando sought, But hastened where he Agramant espied: The incautious Brandimart, suspecting nought Orlando would have let him turn aside, Had not Grada.s.so in his eyes or thought, And to the paynim's throat his knife applied.

Grada.s.so came, and at his helmet layed, Wielding with either hand his trenchant blade.

C Father of heaven! 'mid spirits chosen by thee, To him thy martyr true, a place accord; Who, having traversed his tempestuous sea, Now furls his sails in port. Ah! ruthless sword, So cruel, Durindana, can'st thou be, To good Orlando, to thine ancient lord, That thou can'st slaughter, in the warrior's view, Of all his friends the dearest and most true?

CI An iron ring that girt his helmet round, Two inches thick, was broke by that fell blow And cleft; and with the solid iron bound, Was parted the good cap of steel below, Bold Brandimart, reversed upon the ground, With haggard face beside his horse lies low; And issuing widely from the warrior's head A stream of life-blood dyes the s.h.i.+ngle red.

CII Come to himself, the County turns his eye And sees his Brandimart upon the plain, And in such act Grada.s.so standing by As clearly shows by whom the knight was slain.

If he most raged or grieved I know not, I, But such short time is left him to complain, His hasty wrath breaks forth, his grief gives way; But now 'tis time that I suspend my lay.

CANTO 42

ARGUMENT The victory with Count Orlando lies; But good Rinaldo and Bradamant at heart, (One for Angelica, the other sighs For young Rogero) suffer cruel smart.

Him that in chase of the Indian damsel hies Disdain preserves; from thence does he depart Towards Italy, and is with courteous cheer And welcome guested by a cavalier.

I What bit, what iron curb is to be found, Or (could it be) what adamantine rein, That can make wrath keep order and due bound, And within lawful limits him contain?

When one, to whom the constant heart is bound And linked by Love with solid bolt and chain, We see, through violence or through foul deceit, With mortal damage or dishonour meet.