How quickly our intentions
fluctuate!
Ariosoto - Orlando Furioso
)
And here housed carriages, and steed, and band,
Together with himself, beneath one roof,
At few leagues' distance, did Montpelier stand,
And other wealthy towns, not far aloof.
The village was upon a river's side,
So that its every need might be supplied.
XCV
Here standing, full of thought, upon a day,
(Such was his common wont) the paynim spied,
Advancing by a narrow path, which lay
Through a green meadow, from the adverse side,
A lovely damsel, that upon her way
Was by a bearded monk accompanied;
And these behind them led a lusty steed,
Who bore a burden, trapt with sable weed.
XCVI
Who that attendant monk and damsel were,
And what that burden, will to you be clear,
Remembering Isabella is the fair,
Charged with the corse of her Zerbino dear:
I left her, where from Provence, in the care
Of that good sire, she bowned herself to steer,
By whom persuaded, had the lady given
The remnant of her virtuous life to heaven.
XCVII
Although in her pale face and troubled guise,
The sorrow of that dame is manifest,
Although two fountains are her streaming eyes,
And sobs aye issue from her burning breast,
And more beside of suffering testifies,
With what a load of grief she is opprest,
Yet, in her faded cheek such beauties meet,
Love and the Graces there might fix their seat.
XCVIII
As soon as he of Sarza saw appear
The beauteous dame, he laid the thought aside
Of hatred to that gentle race and dear,
By whom alone the world is glorified;
And best by Isabel the cavalier
Believed his former love would be supplied,
And one love by another be effaced,
As bolt by bolt in timber is displaced.
XCIX
Her with the kindest mien and mildest tone
That he could fashion, met the Sarzan knight;
To whom the dame her every thought made known;
And said, when she was questioned of her plight,
She would with holy works -- this world forgone --
Seek favour in her Heavenly Father's sight.
Loud laughed that godless paynim at the thought,
Who every faith and worship held at nought;
C
And said that she from reason wandered wide,
And termed her project sudden and unsound;
Nor deemed her less to blame than those who hide,
Through greediness, their treasure under ground,
And keep it from the use of all beside,
Though hence no profit to themselves redound.
Rightly were prisoned lion, snake, and bear,
But ill whate'er is innocent and fair.
CI
The monk, that to this talk has lent an ear,
Prompt with advice that mournful dame to stay,
And lest she quit her course, prepared to steer
His bark, like practised pilot, on her way,
A sumptuous table, rich in spiritual cheer,
Had speedily bestirred him to array;
But, born with evil taste, that paynim rude
No sooner tasted, than he loathed, the food.
CII
And having interrupted him in vain,
Nor having power to make him stint his lore,
That paynim, stirred to fury, broke the rein
Of patience, and assailed the preacher hoar.
But haply wearisome might seem the strain,
If I upon this theme dilated more:
So here I close, nor words will idly spend,
Admonished by that ancient's evil end.
CANTO 29
ARGUMENT
Isabel makes the paynim take her head,
Rather than he his wicked will should gain;
Who, having his unhappy error read,
Seeks to appease his wounded spirit in vain.
He builds a bridge, and strips those thither led;
But falls from it with Roland the insane;
Who thence, of him regardless, endlong speeds,
And by the road achieves prodigious deeds.
I
O feeble and unstable minds of men!
How quickly our intentions fluctuate!
All thoughts we lightly change, but mostly when
These from some lover's quarrel take their date.
But now, so wroth I saw that Saracen
With woman, so outrageous in his hate,
I weened not only he would ill assuage,
But never more would calm, his amorous rage.
II
That which he rashly uttered to your blame,
Ye gentle dames, does so my spirit grieve,
Till I his error teach him, to his shame,
He shall no quarter at my hands receive;
So him with pen and page will I proclaim,
That, whosoever reads me, shall believe
He had better held -- aye, better bit, his tongue,
Than ever have your sex with slander stung.
III
But that in this the witless infidel
Spake as a fool, the event demonstrates clear:
Even now, with dagger drawn, that paynim fell
In fury on all women whomsoe'er.
Next him so touched one look of Isabel,
She quickly made his fickle purpose veer;
For her, scarce seen, and to that warrior strange,
He would his Doralice already change;
IV
And, as new love the king did heat and goad,
He moved some arguments of small avail,
To shake her stedfast spirit, which abode
Wholly with God; but he, her shield and mail,
That hermit, lest she from the better road
Should wander, and her chaste intention fail,
With stronger arguments with him contended,
And still, as best he could, the dame defended.
V
The king, who long had taxed himself to bear
The monk's bold sermon to his sore displeasure,
And vainly bade him to his cell repair
Anew, without that damsel, at his leisure,
Yet seeing he would still his patience dare,
Nor peace with him would keep, nor any measure,
Upon that preacher's chin his right-hand laid,
And whatsoe'er he grasped, as rudely flayed.
VI
And (so his fury waxed) that, as it were
With tongs, he griped his neck, and after he
Had whirled him once or twice about in air,
Dismist him form his hand towards the sea.
I say not -- know not, what befel him there:
Many the rumours are, and disagree.
One says he burst upon a rock's rude bed,
And lay one shapeless jelly, heels and head.
VII
He fell into the sea, by one is said,
Distant three miles and more; and, in that sound,
He having prayer, and Ave vainly made,
Because he knew not how to swim, was drowned.
Others report a Saint bestowed his aid,
And dragged him with a visible hand aground.
Whichever be the reading of this mystery,
Of him I speak no further in mine history.
VIII
Cruel King Rodomont, when from his side
He had removed the prating eremite,
With visage less disturbed, again applied
To that sad lady, heartless with affright;
And, in the language used by lovers, cried,
She was his very heart, his life, his light,
She was his comfort, and his dearest hope;
With all such words as have that common scope.
IX
And now, so temperate showed that infidel,
'Twould seem that he no violence designed,
The gentle semblance of fair Isabel,
Enamoured him, so tamed his haughty mind;
And, though he might that goodly kernel shell,
The paynim would not pass beyond the rhind,
Who that its favour would be lost, believed,
Unless 'twere as a gift from her received;
X
And by degrees so thought to mould the dame
To his desires. She in that lone retreat
And savage, open to his evil aim,
And like a mouse, beneath Grimalkin's feet,
Had liefer found herself i' the midst of flame;
And ever on one thought her fancy beat:
If any mode, if any way, remained
To scape that wilful man, untouched, unstained.
And here housed carriages, and steed, and band,
Together with himself, beneath one roof,
At few leagues' distance, did Montpelier stand,
And other wealthy towns, not far aloof.
The village was upon a river's side,
So that its every need might be supplied.
XCV
Here standing, full of thought, upon a day,
(Such was his common wont) the paynim spied,
Advancing by a narrow path, which lay
Through a green meadow, from the adverse side,
A lovely damsel, that upon her way
Was by a bearded monk accompanied;
And these behind them led a lusty steed,
Who bore a burden, trapt with sable weed.
XCVI
Who that attendant monk and damsel were,
And what that burden, will to you be clear,
Remembering Isabella is the fair,
Charged with the corse of her Zerbino dear:
I left her, where from Provence, in the care
Of that good sire, she bowned herself to steer,
By whom persuaded, had the lady given
The remnant of her virtuous life to heaven.
XCVII
Although in her pale face and troubled guise,
The sorrow of that dame is manifest,
Although two fountains are her streaming eyes,
And sobs aye issue from her burning breast,
And more beside of suffering testifies,
With what a load of grief she is opprest,
Yet, in her faded cheek such beauties meet,
Love and the Graces there might fix their seat.
XCVIII
As soon as he of Sarza saw appear
The beauteous dame, he laid the thought aside
Of hatred to that gentle race and dear,
By whom alone the world is glorified;
And best by Isabel the cavalier
Believed his former love would be supplied,
And one love by another be effaced,
As bolt by bolt in timber is displaced.
XCIX
Her with the kindest mien and mildest tone
That he could fashion, met the Sarzan knight;
To whom the dame her every thought made known;
And said, when she was questioned of her plight,
She would with holy works -- this world forgone --
Seek favour in her Heavenly Father's sight.
Loud laughed that godless paynim at the thought,
Who every faith and worship held at nought;
C
And said that she from reason wandered wide,
And termed her project sudden and unsound;
Nor deemed her less to blame than those who hide,
Through greediness, their treasure under ground,
And keep it from the use of all beside,
Though hence no profit to themselves redound.
Rightly were prisoned lion, snake, and bear,
But ill whate'er is innocent and fair.
CI
The monk, that to this talk has lent an ear,
Prompt with advice that mournful dame to stay,
And lest she quit her course, prepared to steer
His bark, like practised pilot, on her way,
A sumptuous table, rich in spiritual cheer,
Had speedily bestirred him to array;
But, born with evil taste, that paynim rude
No sooner tasted, than he loathed, the food.
CII
And having interrupted him in vain,
Nor having power to make him stint his lore,
That paynim, stirred to fury, broke the rein
Of patience, and assailed the preacher hoar.
But haply wearisome might seem the strain,
If I upon this theme dilated more:
So here I close, nor words will idly spend,
Admonished by that ancient's evil end.
CANTO 29
ARGUMENT
Isabel makes the paynim take her head,
Rather than he his wicked will should gain;
Who, having his unhappy error read,
Seeks to appease his wounded spirit in vain.
He builds a bridge, and strips those thither led;
But falls from it with Roland the insane;
Who thence, of him regardless, endlong speeds,
And by the road achieves prodigious deeds.
I
O feeble and unstable minds of men!
How quickly our intentions fluctuate!
All thoughts we lightly change, but mostly when
These from some lover's quarrel take their date.
But now, so wroth I saw that Saracen
With woman, so outrageous in his hate,
I weened not only he would ill assuage,
But never more would calm, his amorous rage.
II
That which he rashly uttered to your blame,
Ye gentle dames, does so my spirit grieve,
Till I his error teach him, to his shame,
He shall no quarter at my hands receive;
So him with pen and page will I proclaim,
That, whosoever reads me, shall believe
He had better held -- aye, better bit, his tongue,
Than ever have your sex with slander stung.
III
But that in this the witless infidel
Spake as a fool, the event demonstrates clear:
Even now, with dagger drawn, that paynim fell
In fury on all women whomsoe'er.
Next him so touched one look of Isabel,
She quickly made his fickle purpose veer;
For her, scarce seen, and to that warrior strange,
He would his Doralice already change;
IV
And, as new love the king did heat and goad,
He moved some arguments of small avail,
To shake her stedfast spirit, which abode
Wholly with God; but he, her shield and mail,
That hermit, lest she from the better road
Should wander, and her chaste intention fail,
With stronger arguments with him contended,
And still, as best he could, the dame defended.
V
The king, who long had taxed himself to bear
The monk's bold sermon to his sore displeasure,
And vainly bade him to his cell repair
Anew, without that damsel, at his leisure,
Yet seeing he would still his patience dare,
Nor peace with him would keep, nor any measure,
Upon that preacher's chin his right-hand laid,
And whatsoe'er he grasped, as rudely flayed.
VI
And (so his fury waxed) that, as it were
With tongs, he griped his neck, and after he
Had whirled him once or twice about in air,
Dismist him form his hand towards the sea.
I say not -- know not, what befel him there:
Many the rumours are, and disagree.
One says he burst upon a rock's rude bed,
And lay one shapeless jelly, heels and head.
VII
He fell into the sea, by one is said,
Distant three miles and more; and, in that sound,
He having prayer, and Ave vainly made,
Because he knew not how to swim, was drowned.
Others report a Saint bestowed his aid,
And dragged him with a visible hand aground.
Whichever be the reading of this mystery,
Of him I speak no further in mine history.
VIII
Cruel King Rodomont, when from his side
He had removed the prating eremite,
With visage less disturbed, again applied
To that sad lady, heartless with affright;
And, in the language used by lovers, cried,
She was his very heart, his life, his light,
She was his comfort, and his dearest hope;
With all such words as have that common scope.
IX
And now, so temperate showed that infidel,
'Twould seem that he no violence designed,
The gentle semblance of fair Isabel,
Enamoured him, so tamed his haughty mind;
And, though he might that goodly kernel shell,
The paynim would not pass beyond the rhind,
Who that its favour would be lost, believed,
Unless 'twere as a gift from her received;
X
And by degrees so thought to mould the dame
To his desires. She in that lone retreat
And savage, open to his evil aim,
And like a mouse, beneath Grimalkin's feet,
Had liefer found herself i' the midst of flame;
And ever on one thought her fancy beat:
If any mode, if any way, remained
To scape that wilful man, untouched, unstained.
