No More Learning

CXI
As peasant, when a river saps its mounds,
And seeking vent the oozing waters drop,
Hastening to shut the stream within its bounds,
And save his pastures and expected crop,
Dams right and left; yet him the stream confounds:
For, if he here the sinking ruin prop,
There he beholds the rotten dyke give out,
And from thick seams the restless water spout,

CXII
So, while the Tartar and Rogero rage,
And Rodomont, in hurly-burly fray,
For each of these would fiercest battle wage,
And would outgo his fears in that assay,
Marphisa seeks their fury to assuage,
And strives, and time and trouble throws away;
For as she makes one knight from strife retire,
She sees the others re-engage with ire.

CXIII
Marphisa, to appease the warriors bent,
Exclaimed, "Sirs, listen to my better lore;
A good remembrance 'tis, all argument
To leave until we Agramant restore.
If each is on his own design intent,
With Mandricardo will I strive once more;
And fain would see, according to his word,
If he can conquer me with spear and sword.

CXIV
"But if, to aid our sovereign, duty call,
Him let us aid, nor civil discord breed. "
-- "To ground, through me, such project shall not fall,"
Rogero said, "so he restore my steed.
Let him resign that horse, or -- once for all.
I say again -- to his defence take heed.
I either here my parting breath will yield,
Or on my courser will return afield. "

CXV
-- "Twere not so easy to obtain this quest
As 'twere that other," Rodomont replied;
And thus pursued: "I unto thee protest,
If any evil shall our king betide,
Thine is the fault not mine; for I am prest
To do whate'er is fitting, on my side. "
Small heed to that protest Rogero paid,
And stung by fury, griped his trenchant blade.

CXVI
On Argier's king he sprang, like savage boar,
Encountering him with shoulder and with shield;
And him disordered and distrest so sore,
That with one stirrup's loss, the monarch reeled.
-- "Rogero," Mandricardo cried, "give o'er,
Or else with me divide the battle-field";
And struck, this said, with worse than felon spite,
Upon the morion of that youthful knight.

CXVII
Even to his courser's neck Rogero bends;
Nor, when he would, himself can rear;
Because the sword of Ulien's son descends
As well upon the youthful cavalier;
And, but that adamant his face defends,
Across the cheeks his tempered helm would sheer.
The Child, in anguish, opens either hand;
And this the bridle drops and that the brand.

CXVIII
Him o'er the field his courser bears away;
On earth the faulchion lies, which he let go:
Marphisa (with Rogero's through that day,
Comrade in arms) appeared like fire to glow,
Enraged, that two one knight should overlay;
And, as magnanimous and stout, for foe
Singled King Mandricardo out, and sped,
With all her might, stroke upon his head.
CXIX
Rodomont o'er the plain pursues his man.
-- Another stroke, and he has lost the horse!
But Richardetto drives, and Vivian,
Between the Child and paynim in that course.
This warrior at the king of Argier ran,
And from Rogero severed him by force;
That (it was Vivian) in Rogero's hand,
Now from the blow recovered, placed his brand.

CXX
As soon as to himself the Child returns,
And is by Vivian armed with sword again,
To venge the injury that stripling burns,
And runs at Rodomont with flowing rein,
Like lion, whom a bull upon his horns
Has lifted, though he feels this while no pain,
So him his heat of blood, disdain, and ire,
To venge that cruel outrage goad and fire.

CXXI
Rogero storms upon the paynim's crest;
And, could that knight recover his own brand,
Which by foul felony (as erst exprest)
Was ravished from the youthful warrior's hand,
I well believe that the descending pest
Rodomont's iron casque will ill withstand;
That casque which Babel's king bade forge, who sought
To war on Heaven in his presumptuous thought.

CXXII
Discord, believing nothing could ensue
But stir, and strife, and combat on that head;
And that there was no place, amid the crew,
For truce or treaty, to her sister said,
That she, her well-beloved monks to view,
Might now again with her securely tread.
Let them depart; and mark we where in front
Rogero has sore wounded Rodomont.

CXXIII
Rogero's blow was levelled with such spite,
That this upon Frontino's crupper made
The helmet and the shell of iron smite,
In which that Saracen his limbs arrayed;
And he, three times or four, to left and right,
-- As if about to fall -- head-foremost, swayed;
And would have lost withal his trusty brand,
But that the hilt was fastened to his hand.

CXXIV
Marphisa has king Mandricardo prest
Meanwhile, and makes him sweat breast, front, and face;
And he Marphisa has as sore distrest:
But such good plates each valiant bosom case,
Impassable is either iron vest;
And both have hitherto maintained their place.
But, at a turn her martial courser made,
Marphisa needed young Rogero's aid.

CXXV
Marphisa's martial steed, in turning short,
Where a firm footing that soft mead denied,
On the moist surface slipt, and in such sort,
That he fell, helpless, on his better side;
And, as he rose in haste and lacked support,
Athwart by furious Brigliador was plied;
On which the paynim, little courteous, came;
So that he fell anew beneath the dame.

CXXVI
Rogero, when Marphisa on the ground
He saw unhorsed, deferred no more his aid;
Who for that deed had leisure; since, astound,
Rodomont far away had been conveyed:
He smote the morion which that Tartar crowned;
And, cleft like stalk, his head on earth had laid,
Had he his trusty Balisarda born,
Or Mandricardo other helmet worn.

CXXVII
Rodomont, of his senses repossest,
Turned round this while, and Richardetto spied;
And recollecting how, when late distrest,
He to Rogero succour had supplied,
Quickly against that youthful warrior prest;
Who an ill guerdon would from him abide,
Did Malagigi not his malice thwart
With other magic and with mickle art.

CXXVIII
Sage Malagigi versed in every sleight
Which by the wisest wizard can be done;
Although his book he has not, by whose might,
He in his course can stop the passing sun;
The conjuration recollects and rite,
By which he tames the rebel fiends; and one
Bids enter into Doralice's steed,
Whom he to fury stings and headlong speed.

CXXIX
Into that gentle palfrey's form, who bore
The beauteous daughter of King Stordilane,
Sir Vivian's brother, simply by his lore,
Made pass an angel of the dark domain;
And the good horse, who never moved before,
Except in due obedience to the rein,
Now took a leap, possest by that ill sprite,
Thirty feet long and sixteen feet in height.