No More Learning

LXII
Had he such strange and evil tidings heard
From other lips, he scarce had these believed:
But credited fair Flordelice's word,
From whom more wondrous things he had received,
Nor this, as told by other, she averred;
This had she seen, and ill could be deceived;
For well as any she Orlando knows;
And both the when and where that damsel shows.

LXIII
She tells him how the perilous bridge's floor
From cavaliers king Rodomont defends;
Where, on a pompous sepulchre, the Moor
His prisoners' ravished arms and vest suspends;
Tells how she saw Orlando, raging sore,
Do fearful deeds, and her relation ends,
Describing how the paynim fell reversed,
To his great peril, in the stream immersed.

LXIV
Brandimart, who the Country loves as dear
As man can love a brother, friend, or son,
Disposed to seek Orlando, far and near,
Nor pain nor peril in the adventure shun,
Till something for the comfort of that peer
By wizard's or by leech's art be done,
Armed as he is, leaps lightly on his steed,
And takes his way beneath the lady's lead.

LXV
Thitherward were Orlando she had spied,
In company the knight and lady made.
They daily post till to that bridge they ride,
Which Argier's king maintained, in arms arraid,
To him the guard their coming signified;
Courser and arms his squires as well conveyed;
And Brandimart no sooner is at hand
Than Rodomont is armed and at his stand.

LXVI
With lofty voice the sovereign of Argier,
Assorting with his moody rage, 'gan say:
" -- Whoe'er thou art, sir knight, and whencesoe'er --
Brought by mistake of purpose or of way,
Light from thine horse and doff thy warlike gear,
To deck this sepulchre, ere thee I slay,
An offering to its lovely tenant's spirit;
And thou in thy forced homage have no merit. "

LXVII
Brandimart, at the paynim's proud discourse,
His weapon in the rest, for answer, layed;
He good Batoldo spurred, his gentle horse,
And at the champion with such fury made,
As showed that he, for courage and for force,
With any warrior in the world had weighed.
King Rodomont as well, with rested spear,
Thundered along the bridge, in fierce career.

LXVIII
The paynim's courser, ever used to go
Upon that bridge's fearful pass, where one
Fell prone parforce into the stream below,
Securely to the fierce encounter run:
While, trembling, and irresolute in show,
That other to the unwonted course is gone.
Quivers the bridge beneath, as it would sink:
Narrow that passage is, unfenced the brink!

LXIX
With heavy spears, the growth of forest hoar,
Saplings rough-hewn, those masters of the just,
Upon the perilous bridge encountering sore,
Exchange, on either side, no gentle thrust.
Nor much their mighty strength or manege-lore
Avails the steeds; for, prostrate in the dust,
Crumbles each knight and charger in mid-course;
Whelmed in one fate, the rider and his horse.

LXX
When either steed would nimbly spring from ground,
As the spur galled and gored his bleeding flank,
He on that little bridge no footing found;
For all to narrow was the scanty plank.
Hence both fall headlong, and the deafening sound
Re-echo vaulted skies and grassy bank.
So rang our stream, when from the heavenly sphere
Was hurled the sun's ill-fated charioteer.
LXXI
With all their weight, down hurtled from the steep,
Coursers and cavaliers, who sate them well;
And dived into the river's darksome deep,
To search for beauteous nymph in secret cell.
Nor this the first nor yet the second leap
Which from the bridge had made that infidel!
Who, often floundering in its oozy bed,
Well in the soundings of that stream was read.

LXXII
He where 'tis hand and where 'tis softer knows,
Where shallow is the water, where profound:
With breast and flanks above the waves he rose,
And Brandimart assailed on safer ground.
Brandimart, whirling with the current, goes,
While his steed's feet the faithless bottom pound.
He, with his lord, stands rooted in the mud,
With risk to both of drowning in the flood.

LXXIII
Whelming them upside-down, the waters flow,
And plunge them in the river's deepest bed;
The horse is uppermost, the knight below.
From the bridge looks his lady, sore bested,
And tear employs, and prayer, and suppliant vow:
-- "Ah, Rodomont! for love of her, whom dead
Ye worship, do not deed of such despite!
Permit not, sir, the death of such a knight.

LXXIV
"Ah! courteous lord! if e'er you loved withal,
Have pity upon me who love this peer;
Let it suffice that he become thy thrall!
For if thou on this stone suspend his gear,
Amid whatever spoils adorn the wall,
The best and worthiest will his spoils appear. "
She ended, and her prayer so well addrest,
It touched, though hard to move, the paynim's breast.

LXXV
Moved by her words, he lent her lover aid,
So by his courser in the stream immersed;
And largely drank, albeit with little thirst.