No More Learning

LXXIV
"Ah! courteous lord! if e'er you loved withal,
Have pity upon me who love this peer;
Let it suffice that he become thy thrall!
For if thou on this stone suspend his gear,
Amid whatever spoils adorn the wall,
The best and worthiest will his spoils appear. "
She ended, and her prayer so well addrest,
It touched, though hard to move, the paynim's breast.

LXXV
Moved by her words, he lent her lover aid,
So by his courser in the stream immersed;
And largely drank, albeit with little thirst.
But Rodomont a while his help delayed,
And seized the warrior's sword and helmet first.
Him half exhausted from the stream he drew,
And prisoned with that other captive crew.

LXXVI
All happiness was in that damsel spent,
When taken she her Brandimart espied,
Although to see him captive more content,
Than to behold him perish in the tide.
None but herself she blames for the event,
Who thitherward had been the champion's guide,
She having to that faithful warrior shown,
How at the bridge Orlando she had known.

LXXVII
She parts, and has anew already planned
Thither with good Rinaldo to resort;
With Guido, Sansonet of doughty hand,
Or other cavalier of Pepin's court;
Some warrior good by water and by land,
That with the Saracen will well assort.
Who, if no stronger than her baffled knight,
With better fortune may maintain the fight.

LXXVIII
For many days the damsel vainly strayed,
Ere she encountered any one who bore
Semblance of knight, that might afford her aid,
And free her prisoned lover from the Moor;
After she long and fruitless search had made,
At length a warrior crost her way, that wore
A richly ornamented vest, whose ground
With trunks of cypresses was broidered round.

LXXIX
Who was that champion, shall be said elsewhere;
For I to Paris must return, and show
How Malagigi and Rinaldo are
Victorious o'er the routed Moorish foe.
To count the flyers were a useless care,
Or many drowned in Stygian streams below.
The darkness rendered Turpin's labour vain,
Who tasked himself to tell the pagans slain.

LXXX
King Agramant in his pavilion lies,
From his first sleep awakened by a knight:
He that the king will be a prisoner cries,
Save he with speed betake himself to flight,
The monarch looks about him and espies
His paynim bands dispersed in panic fright.
Naked, they far and near desert the field;
Nay, never halt to snatch the covering shield.

LXXXI
Uncounselled and confused, the king arrayed
His naked limbs in knightly plate and chain,
When thither Falsiron, the Spaniard, made
Grandonio, Balugantes, and their train:
They to the Moorish king the risk displayed
Of being taken in that press, or slain;
And vouched if thence he should in safety fare,
He well might thank propitious Fortune's care.

LXXXII
Marsilius so, Sobrino so, their fear
Express; so, one and all, the friendly band;
They warn him that Destruction is as near
As swift Mount Alban's lord is nigh at hand.
And if against so fierce a cavalier,
And such a troop, he seeks to make a stand,
He and his friends in that disastrous strife
Will surely forfeit liberty or life.

LXXXIII
But he to Arles and Narbonne may retreat,
With such few squadrons as his rule obey:
Since either is well fortified, and meet
The warfare to maintain above one day;
And having saved his person, the defeat
May venge upon the foe, by this delay:
His troops may rally quickly in that post,
And rout in fine King Charles' conquering host.

LXXXIV
Agramant to those lords' opinion bent,
Though that hard counsel he could ill endure;
As if supplied with wings, towards Arles he went,
By roads which offered passage most secure.
Beside safe guides, much favoured his intent
His setting out, when all things were obscure.
Scaping the toils by good Rinaldo spread,
Some twenty thousand of the paynims fled.

LXXXV
Those whom Rinaldo, whom his brethren slew,
Whom Oliviero's sons, the valiant twain,
Those who were slaughtered by Mount Alban's crew,
-- The fierce seven hundred, good Rinaldo's train --
Those whom the valiant Sansonet o'erthrew,
And those that in their flight were drowned in Seine,
He who would count, might count as well what flowers
Zephyr and Flora shed, mid April-showers.

LXXXVI
Here one conjectures Malagigi bore
A part in the alarum of that night:
Not that he stained the mead with paynim gore,
Nor splintered heads; but that the wizard wight,
Infernal angels, by his magic lore,
Called from Tartarean caverns into light;
Whose many spears and banners waving wide
Two kingdoms such as France had scarce supplied.

LXXXVII
And with them such sonorous metal brayed,
So many drums and martial noises sounded;
So many steeds in that encounter neighed;
So many cries -- with rush of foot confounded --
Rose all about, that hill, dale, wood, and glade,
From distant parts, the deafening din rebounded;
And struck into the Moors such sudden dread,
They turned and from the field in panic fled.

LXXXVIII
Their king forgets no, how Rogero lay
Sore wounded, and as yet in evil case.
Him, with what care they could, he made convey
From that dread field, on horse of easy pace.
Borne to the sea by the securest way,
They in a bark the suffering warrior place,
And thence commodiously to Arles transport;
Whither their wasted squadrons make resort.