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XXXVIII
Astolpho, Brandimart, the Danish knight,
Hastening towards that noise with Olivier,
Remain astounded at the wondrous might
And courage, which in that wild man appear.
When, posting thither on a palfry light,
Is seen a damsel, clad in sable gear.
To Brandimart in haste that lady goes,
And both her arms about the warrior throws.

XXXIX
This was fair Flordelice, whose bosom so
Burned with the love of Monodantes' son,
She, when she left him prisoner to his foe
At that streight bridge, had nigh distracted gone.
From France had she past hither -- given to know --
By that proud paynim, who the deed had done,
How Brandimart, with many cavaliers,
Was prisoner in the city of Algiers.

XL
When now she for that harbour would have weighed,
An eastern vessel in Marseilles she found,
Which thither had an ancient knight conveyed:
Of Monodantes' household; a long round
To seek his Brandimart that lord had made,
By sea, and upon many a distant ground.
For he, upon his way, had heard it told,
How he in France should find the warrior bold.

XLI
She knowing old Bardino in that wight,
Bardino who from Monodantes' court
With little Brandimart had taken flight,
And reared his nursling in THE SYLVAN FORT;
Then hearing what had thither brought the knight,
With her had made him loosen from the port;
Relating to that elder, by what chance
Brandimart had to Africk passed from France.

XLII
As soon as landed, that Biserta lies
Besieged by good Astolpho's band, they hear;
That Brandimart is with him in the emprize,
They learn, but learn not as a matter clear.
Now in such haste to him the damsel flies,
When she beholds her faithful cavalier,
As plainly shows her joy; which woes o'erblown
Had made the mightiest she had ever known.

XLIII
The gentle baron no less gladly eyed
His faithful and beloved consort's face;
Her whom he prized above all things beside;
And clipt and welcomed her with loving grace;
Nor his warm wishes would have satisfied
A first, a second, or a third embrace,
But that he spied Bardino, he that came
From France, together with that faithful dame.

XLIV
He stretched his arms, and would embrace the knight;
And -- wherefore he was come -- would bid him say:
But was prevented by the sudden flight
Of the sacred host, which fled in disarray,
Before the club of that mad, naked wight,
Who with the brandished sapling cleared his way.
Flordelice viewed the furious man in front;
And cried to Brandimart, "Behold the count! "

XLV
At the same time, withal, Astolpho bold
That this was good Orlando plainly knew,
By signs, whereof those ancient saints had told,
In the earthly paradise, as tokens true.
None of those others, who the knight behold,
The courteous baron in the madman view;
That from long self-neglect, while wild he ran,
Had in his visage more of beast than man.
XLVI
With breast and heart transfixed with pity, cried
Valiant Astolpho -- bathed with many a tear --
Turning to Danish Dudon, at this side,
And afterwards to valiant Olivier;
"Behold Orlando! " Him awhile they eyed,
Straining their eyes and lids; then knew the peer;
And, seeing him in such a piteous plight,
Were filled with grief and wonder at the sight.

XLVII
So grieve and so lament the greater part
Of those good warriors, that their eyes o'erflow.
" `Tis time" (Astolpho cried) "to find some art
To heal him, not indulge in useless woe";
And from his courser sprang: bold Brandimart,
Olivier, Sansonet and Dudon so
All leap to ground, and all together make
At Roland, whom the warriors fain would take.

XLVIII
Seeing the circle round about him grow,
Levels his club that furious paladin,
And makes fierce Dudon feel (who -- couched below
His buckler -- on the madman would break in)
How grievous is that staff's descending blow;
And but that Olivier, Orlando's kin,
Broke in some sort its force, that stake accurst
Had shield and helmet, head and body burst.

XLIX
It only burst the shield, and in such thunder
Broke on the casque, that Dudon prest the shore:
With that, Sir Sansonet cut clean asunder
The sapling, shorn of two cloth-yards and more,
So vigorous was that warrior's stroke, while under
His bosom, Brandimart girt Roland sore
With sinewy arms about his body flung;
And to the champion's legs Astolpho clung.

L
Orlando shook himself, and England's knight,
Ten paces off, reversed upon the ground;
Yet loosed not Brandimart, who with more might
And better hold had clasped the madman round.
To Olivier, too forward in that fight,
He dealt so furious and so fell a wound,
With his clenched fist, that pale the marquis fell;
And purple streams from eyes and nostrils well;

LI
And save his morion had been more than good,
Bold Olivier had breathed his last, who lies,
So battered with his fall, it seemed he wou'd
Bequeath his parting soul to paradise.
Astolpho and Dudon, that again upstood
(Albeit swoln were Dudon's face and eyes)
And Sansonet, who plied so well his sword,
All made together at Anglantes' lord.

LII
Dudon Orlando from behind embraced,
And with his foot the furious peer would throw:
Astolpho and others seize his arms; but waste
Their strength in all attempts to hold the foe.
He who has seen a bull, by mastiffs chased
That gore his bleeding ears, in fury lowe,
Dragging the dogs that bait him there and here,
Yet from their tusks unable to get clear;

LIII
Let him imagine, so Orlando drew
Astolpho and those banded knights along.
Meanwhile upstarted Oliviero, who
By that fell fistycuff on earth was flung;
And, seeing they could ill by Roland do
That sought by good Astolpho and his throng,
He meditates, and compasses, a way
The frantic paladin on earth to lay.

LIV
He many a hawser made them thither bring,
And running knots in them he quickly tied;
Which on the count's waist, arms, and legs, they fling;
And then, among themselves, the ends divide,
Conveyed to this or that amid the ring,
Compassing Roland upon every side.
The warriors thus Orlando flung parforce,
As farrier throws the struggling ox or horse.

LV
As soon as down, they all upon him are,
And hands and feet more tightly they constrain:
He shakes himself, and plunges here and there;
But all his efforts for relief are vain.
Astolpho bade them hence the prisoner bear;
For he would heal (he said) the warrior's brain.