No More Learning

XXXIV
"I am like miser, so intent on gear,
And who hath this so buried in his heart,
That he, for hoarded treasure still in fear,
Cannot live gladly from his wealth apart.
Since I Rogero neither see nor hear,
More puissant far than Hope, O Fear! thou art;
To thee, though false and idle I give way;
And cannot choose but yield myself thy prey.

XXXV
"But I, Rogero, shall no sooner spy
The light of thy glad countenance appear,
Against mine every credence, from mine eye
Concealed (and woe is me), I know not where, --
Oh! how true Hope false Fear shall from on high
Depose withal, and to the bottom bear!
Ah! turn to me, Rogero! turn again,
And comfort Hope, whom Fear hath almost slain.

XXXVI
"As when the sun withdraws his glittering head,
The shadows lengthen, causing vain affright;
And as the shadows, when he leaves his bed,
Vanish, and reassure the timid wight:
Without Rogero so I suffer dread;
Dread lasts not, if Rogero is in sight.
Return to me, return, Rogero, lest
My hope by fear should wholly be opprest.

XXXVII
"As every spark is in the night alive,
And suddenly extinguished when 'tis morn;
When me my sun doth of his rays deprive,
Against me felon Fear uplifts his horn:
But they the shades of night no sooner drive,
Than Fears are past and gone, and Hopes return.
Return, alas! return, O radiance dear!
And drive from me that foul, consuming Fear.

XXXVIII
"If the sun turn from us and shorten day,
Earth all its beauties from the sight doth hide;
The wild winds howl, and snows and ice convey;
Bird sings not; nor is leaf or flower espied.
So, whensoever thou thy gladsome ray,
O my fair sun, from me dost turn aside,
A thousand, and all evil, dreads, make drear
Winter within me many times a year.

XXXIX
"Return, my sun, return! and springtide sweet,
Which evermore I long to see, bring back;
Dislodge the snows and ice with genial hear;
And clear my mind, so clouded o'er and black. "
As Philomel, or Progne, with the meat
Returning, which her famished younglings lack,
Mourns o'er an empty nest, or as the dove
Laments himself at having lost is love;

XL
The unhappy Bradamant laments her so,
Fearing the Child is reft from her and gone;
While often tears her visage overflow:
But she, as best she can, conceals her moan.
Oh! how -- oh! how much worse would be her woe,
If what she knew not to the maid were known!
That, prisoned and with pain and pine consumed,
Her consort to a cruel death was doomed.

XLI
The cruelty which by that beldam ill
Was practised on the prisoned cavalier,
And who prepared the wretched Child to kill,
By torture new and pains unused whilere,
While so Rogero pined, the gracious will
Of Heaven conveyed to gentle Leo's ear;
And put into his heart the means to aid,
And not to let such worth be overlaid.

XLII
The courteous Leo that Rogero loved,
Not that the Grecian knew howe'er that he
Rogero was, but by that valour moved
Which sole and superhuman seemed to be,
Thought much, and mused, and planned, how it behoved
-- And found at last a way -- to set him free;
So that his cruel aunt should have no right
To grieve or say he did her a despite.

XLIII
In secret, Leo with the man that bore
The prison-keys a parley had, and said,
He wished to see that cavalier, before
Upon the wretch was done a doom so dread.
When it was night, one, faithful found of yore,
Bold, strong, and good in brawl, he thither led;
And -- by the silent warder taught that none
Must know 'twas Leo -- was the door undone.

XLIV
Leo, escorted by none else beside,
Was led by the compliant castellain,
With his companion, to the tower, where stied
Was he, reserved for nature's latest pain.
There round the neck of their unwary guide,
Who turns his back the wicket to unchain,
A slip-knot Leo and his follower cast;
And, throttled by the noose, he breathes his last.

XLV
-- The trap upraised, by rope from thence suspended
For such a need -- the Grecian cavalier,
With lighted flambeau in his hand, descended,
Where, straitly bound, and without sun to cheer,
Rogero lay, upon a grate extended,
Less than a palm's breadth of the water clear:
To kill him in a month, or briefer space,
Nothing was needed but that deadly place.

XLVI
Lovingly Leo clipt the Child, and, "Me,
O cavalier!