No More Learning

"
So saying, in his hand the holy book
Charles held, and fixed on heaven his earnest look.

LXXXV
This done, they seek that altar, sumptuously
Decked for the purpose, by the pagan train;
Where their king swears, that he will pass the sea,
With all his army, to his Moorish reign,
And to King Charles will tributary be;
If vanquished, young Rogero shall remain;
And will observe the truce for evermore
Upon the pact declared by Charles before;

LXXXVI
And like him, nor in under tone, he swears,
Calling on Mahound to attest his oath;
And on the volume which his pontiff bears,
To observe what he has promised plights his troth.
Then to his side each hastily repairs;
And mid their several powers are harboured both.
Next these, to swear arrive the champions twain;
And this the promise which their oaths contain.

LXXXVII
Rogero pledges first his knightly word,
Should his king mar, or send to mar, the fray,
He him no more as leader or as lord
Will serve, but wholly Charlemagne obey.
-- Rinaldo -- if in breach of their accord,
Him from the field King Charles would bear away,
Till one or the other is subdued in fight,
That he will be the Moorish monarch's knight.

LXXXVIII
When ended are the ceremonies, here
And there, to seek their camps the two divide.
Nor long, therein delayed; when trumpets clear
The time for their encounter signified:
Now to the charge advanced each cavalier,
Measuring with cautious care his every stride.
Lo! the assault begins; now low, now high,
That pair the sounding steel in circles ply.

LXXXIX
Now with the axe's blade, now with its heel
Their strokes they at the head or foot address;
And these so skilfully and nimbly deal,
As needs must shock all credence to express.
The Child, that at her brother aims the steel,
Who doth his miserable soul possess,
Evermore with such caution strikes his blow,
That he is deemed less vigorous than his foe.

XC
Rather to parry then to smite intent,
He know not what to wish; that low should lie
Rinaldo, would Rogero ill content,
Nor willingly the Child by him would die.
But here I am at my full line's extent,
Where I must needs defer my history.
In other canto shall the rest appear,
If you that other canto please to hear.
CANTO 39

ARGUMENT
Agramant breaks the pact, is overthrown,
And forced fair France for Afric to forego.
Meanwhile Astolpho in Biserta's town
Having with numerous host besieged the foe,
By hazard there arrives bold Milo's son,
To whom the duke, instructed how to do,
Restores his wits. At sea does Dudon meet
King Agramant, and sore annoys his fleet.


I
Than that fell woe which on Rogero weighs
Harder, and bitterer pain forsooth is none,
Which upon flesh and more on spirit preys:
For of two deaths there is no scaping one.
Him, if in strife o'erlaid, Rinaldo slays,
Bradamant, if Rinaldo is outdone:
For if he killed her brother, well he knew
Her hate, than death more hateful, would ensue.

II
Rinaldo, unimpeded by such thought,
Strove in all ways Rogero to o'erthrow;
Fierce and despiteous whirled his axe, and sought
Now in the arms, now head, to wound the foe.
Rogero circled here and there, and caught
Upon his weapon's shaft the coming blow;
And, if ever smote, aye strove to smite
Where he should injure least Montalban's knight.

III
To most of them that led the paynim bands,
But too unequal seemed the fierce assay.
Too slowly young Rogero plied his hands;
Too well Rinaldo kept the Child at bay.
With troubled face the king of Afric stands:
He sighed, and breathless gazed upon the fray;
And all the blame of that ill counsel flung
On King Sobrino's head, from whom it sprung.

IV
Meanwhile the weird Melissa, she -- the font
Of all that wizards or enchanters know --
Had by her art transformed her female front,
And taken Argier's mighty shape; in show
And gesture she appeared as Rodomont,
And seemed, like him, in dragon's hide to go:
Such was her belied sword and such her shield;
Nor aught was wanting which he wore afield.

V
She towards Troyano's mournful son did guide,
In form of courser, a familiar sprite,
And with a troubled visage loudly cried,
"My liege, this is too foul an oversight,
A stripling boy in peril yet untried,
Against a Gaul, so stout and famed in fight,
Your champion in so fierce a strife to make;
Where Afric's realm and honour are at stake.

VI
"Let not this battle be pursued, my lord,
In that 'twould cost our Moorish cause too dear.
Let sin of broken faith and forfeit word
Fall upon Rodomont! take thou no fear!
Let each now show the metal of his sword,
Each for a hundred stands when I am here.