No More Learning

Remorseless aera, which hast filled the page
With Atreus', Tantalus', Thyestes' rage!

IX
Barbarian! thou madest shorter by the head
The boldest of his age, on whom did beam
The sun 'twixt pole and pole, 'twixt Indus' bed
And where he sinks in Ocean's western stream;
Whose years and beauty might have pity bred
In Anthropophagus, in Polypheme;
Not thee; that art in wickedness outdone
By any Cyclops, any Lestrigon.

X
I ween, mid warriors in the days of yore,
No such example was; they all, in field,
Were full of gentleness and courteous lore,
Nor against conquered foe their bosom steeled.
Not only gentle Bradamant forbore
To harm the knights whom, smitten on the shield,
Her lance unhorsed; but for the vanquished crew
Detained their steeds, that they might mount anew.

XI
I of that lady fair, of mickle might,
Told you above, how she had overthrown
Serpentine of the Star in single fight,
Grandonio and Ferrau, and then upon
Their coursers had replaced each baffled knight.
I told moreover how the third was gone
Rogero to defy to the career,
Upon her call, who seemed a cavalier.

XII
Rogero heard the call in joyous vein,
And bade his arms be brought; now while in view
Of Agramant he donned the plate and chain,
Those lords the former question moved anew;
Who was the knight, that on the martial plain
The manage of the lance so quaintly knew?
And of Ferrau, who spake with him whilere,
Craved, if to him was known that cavalier.

XIII
"Be ye assured," to them Ferrau replied,
"He is not one of those I hear you cite
To me (for I his open face descried).
Rinaldo's youthful brother seemed the knight.
But since his doughty valour I have tried,
And wot not such is Richardetto's might,
I ween it is his sister, who, I hear,
Resembles much in mien that martial peer.

XIV
"The damsel equals well, so Rumour tells,
Rinaldo, and every paladin in fray.
But brother she and cousin both excels,
Measured by that which I have seen to-day. "
Hearing him, while upon her praise he dwells,
As the sky reddens with the morning ray,
Rogero's face is flushed with crimson hue,
And his heart throbs, nor knows he what to do.
XV
Stung, at these tidings, by the amorous dart --
Within, new fire inflames the cavalier;
And strait, together with the burning smart,
Shoots through his bones a chill, produced by fear;
Fear, that new wrath had stifled in her heart
That mighty love, wherewith she burned whilere.
Confused he stands, irresolute and slow,
And undecided if to stay or go.

XVI
Now fierce Marphisa, who was there, and prest
By huge desire to meet the stranger wight,
And armed withal (for, save in iron vest,
Her seldom would you find by day or night).
Hearing Rogero is in armour drest,
Fearing to lose the honour of the fight,
If first that champion with the stranger vies;
Thinks to prevent the youth and win the prize.

XVII
She leapt upon her horse, and thither hied
Where Aymon's daughter on the listed plain,
With palpitating heart, upon her side,
Waited Rogero; whom the damsel fain
Would make her prisoner, and but schemed to guide
Her lance in mode the stripling least to pain.
Marphisa from the city portal fares,
And on her gallant helm a phoenix wears.

XVIII
Whether the maid would publish, in her pride,
That she was single in the world, for might;
Or whether by that symbol signified,
That she would live, exempt from bridal rite.
Her closely Aymon's martial daughter eyed;
When seeing not those features, her delight,
She craves the damsel's name before they move,
And hears that it is she who joys her love:

XIX
Or rather she, that gentle lady thought,
Had joyed her love; and whom she hated so,
Her to Death's door her anger would have brought,
Unless she venged her sorrow on the foe.
She wheeled her courser round, with fury fraught,
Less with desire to lay her rival low,
Than with the lance to pierce her in mid breast,
And put her every jealousy at rest.

XX
Parforce to ground must go the royal maid,
To prove it hard or soft the listed plain,
And be with such unwonted scorn appaid,
That she is nearly maddened by disdain.
Scarce was she thrown, before her trenchant blade
She bared, and hurried to avenge the stain.
Cried Aymon's daughter, no less proud of heart,
"What art thou doing? Thou my prisoner art. "

XXI
"Though I have courtesy for others, none"
(She said) "from me, Marphisa, shalt thou find.
Since evermore I hear of thee, as one
To pride and every churlishness inclined. "
Marphisa, at these words, was heard to groan,
As roars in some sea-rock the prisoned wind.