No More Learning

LXVII
Rogero was the first who went to ground,
And so much longer did the king delay,
Nigh every one of those who waited round
Weened he the prize and vaunt had borne away.
So, erred his Doralice, that oft was drowned
In tears, and often clad in smiles that day:
She thanked her God, with hands to Heaven extended,
That in such wise the fearful fight had ended.

LXVIII
But when by tokens manifest appear
The live man living and the dead man slain,
The favourers of those knights, with change of cheer,
Some weep and some rejoice, an altered train.
King, lord, and every worthiest cavalier
Crowd round Rogero, who has risen with pain.
Him to embrace and gratulate they wend,
And do him grace and honour without end.

LXIX
Each with Rogero is rejoiced, and feels
That which he utters in his heart; among
The crowd the Sericane alone conceals
Other than what he vouches with his tongue.
He pleasure in his countenance reveals,
With envy at the conquest inly stung;
And -- were his destiny or chance to blame --
Curses whiche'er produced Rogero's name.

LXX
What of Rogero's favour can be said?
What of caresses, many, true, and kind,
From Agramant? that not without his aid
Would have unrolled his ensigns the wind;
Who had to move from Africk been afraid,
Nor would have trusted in his host combined.
He, now King Mandricardo is no more,
Esteems him the united world before.

LXXI
Nor to Rogero lean the men alone;
To him incline as well the female train,
Who for the land of France had left their own,
Amid the troops of Africk or of Spain;
And Doralice, herself, although she moan,
And for her lover, cold and pale, complain,
Save by the griding curb of shame represt,
Her voice, perchance, had added to the rest.

LXXII
I say perchance, nor warrant it I dare,
Albeit the thing may easily be true;
For such his manners, such his merits are,
So beauteous is Rogero's form to view,
She (from experience we are well aware)
So prone to follow whatsoe'er is new,
That not to play the widow's lovelorn part,
She on Rogero well might set her heart.

LXXIII
Though he did well alive, what could be done
With Mandricardo, after he was dead?
'Tis fitting she provide herself with one
That her, by night or day, may bravely stead.
Meanwhile to young Rogero's succour run
The king's physician in his art best read;
Who, having seen the fruits of that fell strife,
Already has ensured Rogero's life.

LXXIV
Agramant bids them diligently lay
The wounded warrior in his tent, and there
Is evermore beside him, night and day;
Him with such love he watches, with such care:
To his bed the Tartar's arms and buckler gay,
So bade the Moorish king, suspended were;
Suspended all, save trenchant Durindana,
Relinquished to the King of Sericana.

LXXV
With Mandricardo's arms, his other weed
Was to Rogero given, and given with these
Was warlike Brigliador, whom on the mead
Orlando left, distraught with his disease.
To Agramant Rogero gave the steed,
Well knowing how that goodly gift would please.
No more of this: parforce my strain returns
To her that vainly for Rogero burns.

LXXVI
Bradamant's torment have I to recount,
While for the courier damsel she did stay:
With tidings of her love to Alban's Mount,
To her Hippalca measured back her way:
She of Frontino first and Rodomont,
And next of good Rogero had to say;
How to the fount anew he had addrest
His way, with Richardetto and the rest;

LXXVII
And how the Child, in rescue of the steed,
Had gone with her to find the paynim rude;
And weened to have chastized his foul misdeed,
That from a woman took Frontino good.
And how the youth's design did ill succeed,
Because the king had other way pursued.
The reason too why to Mount Alban's hold
Rogero had not come, at full she told;

LXXVIII
And fully she to Bradamant exprest
What to excuse himself Rogero said:
She after drew the letter from her breast,
Wherewith entrusted she had thither sped:
With visage which more care than hope confest,
The paper Bradamant received and read;
Which, but that she expected to have seen
Rogero's self, more welcome would have been.

LXXIX
To find herself with written scroll appaid
In good Rogero's place, whom she attends,
Marred her fair visage; which such fear pourtrayed,
Despite and sorrow as her bosom rends.
Ten times the page she kisses, while the maid
As oft to him who writes her heart commends:
The tears alone which trickle from her eyes
Keep it from kindling at her burning sighs.

LXXX
Four times, nay six, she that epistle read,
And willed moreover that as many more
The message by that damsel should be said,
Who word and letter to Mount Alban bore.
This while unceasing tears the lady shed,
Nor, I believe, would ever have given o'er,
Save by the hope consoled, that she anew
Should briefly her beloved Rogero view.

LXXXI
Rogero's word was pledged for his return
When fifteen days or twenty were gone by:
So had he after to Hippalca sworn,
Bidding her boldly on his faith rely.
"From accidents that chance at every turn"
(Cried Bradamant) "what warranty have I,
Alas! -- and such are commonest in war --
That none the knight's return for ever bar?

` LXXXII
"Alas!