No More Learning

But him had glorified above the rest
Worth in the Syrian fairy's castle shown:
Where mail, which cased the Trojan Hector's breast
A thousand years before, he made his own.
And finished that adventure, strange and fell;
A story which breeds terror but to tell.

XXXII
When the squire told his news amid that show
Of troops, was present Agrican's bold son,
Who raised his daring face, resolved to go
And find the warrior who the deed had done;
But the design he hatched, forebore to show;
As making small account of any one,
Or fearing lest, should he reveal his thought,
The quest by other champion might be sought.

XXXIII
He of the squire demanded what the vest
And bearings, which the valiant stranger wore;
Who answered that he went without a crest,
And sable shield and sable surcoat bore.
-- And, sir, 'twas true; for so was Roland drest;
The old device renounced he had before:
For as he mourned within, so he without,
The symbols of his grief would bear about.

XXXIV
Marsilius had to Mandricardo sped,
As gift, a courser of a chestnut stain,
Whose legs and mane were sable; he was bred
Between a Friesland mare and nag of Spain.
King Mandricardo, armed from foot to head,
Leapt on the steed and galloped o'er the plain,
And swore upon the camp to turn his back
Till he should find the champion clad in black.

XXXV
The king encounters many of the crew
Whom good Orlando's arm had put to flight;
And some a son, and some a brother rue,
Who in the rout had perished in their sight;
And in the coward's cheek of pallid hue
Is yet pourtrayed the sad and craven sprite:
-- Yet, through the fear endured, they far and nigh,
Pallid, and silent, and insensate fly.

XXXVI
Nor he long was had rode, ere he descried
A passing-cruel spectacle and sore;
But which the wonderous feats well testified,
That were recounted Agramant before.
Now on this hand, now that, the dead he eyed,
Measured their wounds, and turned their bodies o'er;
Moved by strange envy of the knight whose hand
Had strown the champaign with the slaughtered band.

XXXVII
As wolf or mastiff-dog, who comes the last
Where the remains of slaughtered bullock lie,
And finds but horn and bones, where rich repast
Had fed the ravening hound and vulture night,
Glares vainly on the scull, unsmacked; so passed
The barbarous Tartar king those bodies by;
And grudged, lamenting, like the hungry beast,
To have come too late for such a sumptuous feast.

XXXVIII
That day, and half the next, in search he strayed
Of him who wore the sable vest and shield.
When lo! he saw a mead, o'ertopt with shade,
Where a deep river wound about the field,
With narrow space between the turns it made,
Where'er from side to side the water wheeled.
Even such a spot as this with circling waves
Below Otricoli the Tyber laves.
XXXIX
Where this deep stream was fordable, he scanned
A crowd of cavaliers that armour bore:
And these the paynim questioned who had manned,
With such a troop, and to what end, the shore?
To him replied the captain of the band,
Moved by his lordly air, and arms he wore,
Glittering with gold and jewels, -- costly gear,
Which showed him an illustrious cavalier.

XL
"In charge" (he said) "we of the daughter go
Of him our king, who fills Granada's throne,
Espoused by Rodomont of Sarza, though
To fame the tidings are as yet unknown.
And we, departing when the sun is low,
And the cicala hushed, which now alone
Is heard, shall bring her where her father keeps
I' the Spanish camp; meanwhile the lady sleeps. "

XLI
He who for scorn had daffed the world aside,
Designs to see at once, how able were
Those horsemen to defend the royal bride,
Committed by their sovereign to their care.
"The maid, by what I hear, is fair" (he cried).
"Fain would I now be certified, how fair:
Then me to her, or her to me convey,
For I must quickly wend another way. "

XLII
"Thou needs art raving mad," replied in few
The chief, -- nor more. But with his lance in rest,
The Tartar monarch at the speaker flew,
And with the levelled spear transfixed his breast.
For the point pierced the yielding corslet through,
And lifeless he, perforce, the champaign prest.
The son of Agrican his lance regained,
Who weaponless without the spear remained.

XLIII
Now sword nor club the warlike Tartar bore,
Since, when the Trojan Hector's plate and chain
He gained, because the faulchion lacked, he swore
(To this obliged), nor swore the king in vain,
That save he won the blade Orlando wore,
He would no other grasp, -- that Durindane.
Held in high value by Almontes bold,
Which Roland bears, and Hector bore of old.

XLIV
Great is the Tartar monarch's daring, those
At such a disadvantage to assay,
He pricks, with levelled lance, among his foes,
Shouting, in fury, -- "Who shall bar my way? " --
Round and about him suddenly they close;
These draw the faulchion, and those others lay
The spear in rest: a multitude he slew,
Before his lance was broke upon the crew.

XLV
When this he saw was broke, the truncheon sound
And yet entire, he took, both hands between,
And with so many bodies strewed the ground,
That direr havoc never yet was seen:
And as with that jaw bone, by hazard found,
The Hebrew Samson slew the Philistine,
Crushed helm and shield; and often side by side,
Slain by the truncheon, horse and rider died.