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.