Orlando Furioso quotes

If any ask who made this sorrowing, And pour’d into the stream so many tears, I answer, it was fair Circassia’s king, That Sacripant, oppressed with amorous cares.

Love is the source from which his troubles spring, The sole occasion of his pains and fears;

And he to her a lover’s service paid, Now well remembered by the royal maid.

yet will not seem Likely to one of sober sense possessed: But Sacripant, who waked from worser dream, In all without a cavil acquiesced: Since Love, who sees without one guiding gleam, Spies in broad day but that which likes him best:

For one sign of the afflicted man’s disease Is to give ready faith to things which please.

“If good Anglante’s lord the prize forbore, Nor seized the fair occasion when he might, The loss be his, if Fortune never more Him to enjoy so fair a prize invite. To imitate that lord of little lore I think not,” said, apart, Circassia’s knight.

“He, dying, leaves his brother Azo heir Of Pesaro and fair Ancona’s reign, And all the cities which ’twixt Tronto are, And green Isauro’s stream, from mount to main; With other heritage, more rich and rare, Greatness of mind, and faith without a strain.

All else is Fortune’s in this mortal state; But Virtue soars beyond her love and hate.

“In good Rinaldo equal worth shall shine, (Such is the promise of his early fire) If such a hope of thine exalted line, Dark Fate and Fortune wreck not in their ire. Alas!

The maid Brunello knows as soon as found (So was his image on her mind impressed), And asks him whence he came, and whither bound;

And he replies and lies, as he is pressed.

The dame, who is forewarned, and knows her ground, Feigns too as well as he, and lies her best: And changes sex and sect, and name and land, And her quick eye oft glances at his hand;

And, as she follows him with fruitless care, Nor longer flight nor shorter will he try.

’Tis thus the raven, on some sandy beach, Lures on the dog, and flits beyond his reach.

Gradasso, Sacripant, Rogero, who With all those other knights below were met, Where’er, they hope he may return, pursue The beast, and up and down, each pass beset.

And tell her, too, the occasion of the rest, Which you shall witness without more delay; In having seen too much, the occasion lies;

Happy had I been born without these eyes!

’

It seems as if its summit touched the sky, And all appears like gold from top to ground. Here some one says it is but alchemy —And haply his opinion is unsound— And haply he more wittily divines:

For me, I deem it gold because it shines.

When he was nigh the city-walls, so bright, The world has not their equal, he the straight And spacious way deserts, the way which dight Across the plain, conducted to the gate; And by that safer road upon the right, Strains now against the mountain;

The traveller, he, whom sea or mountain sunder From his own country, sees things strange and new; That the misjudging vulgar, which lies under The mist of ignorance, esteems untrue: Rejecting whatsoever is a wonder, Unless ’tis palpable and plain to view:

Hence inexperience, as I know full well, Will yield small credence to the tale I tell.

But this be great or small, I know not why The rabble’s silly judgement I should fear, Convinced you will not think the tale a lie, In whom the light of reason shines so clear.

Rinaldo levies knights and squadrons, pressed In aid of Charles assaulted by the Moor: Angelica, by ruffians found at rest, Is offered to a monster on the shore. Orlando, warned in visions of his ill, Departs from Paris sore against his will.

How many enchantresses among us! oh, How many enchanters are there, though unknown!

Who for their love make man or woman glow, Changing them into figures not their own. Nor this by help of spirits from below, Nor observation of the stars is done: But these on hearts with fraud and falsehood plot, Binding them with indissoluble knot.

But I excuse him well, rejoiced to know I have like partner in my vice: for still To seek my good I too am faint and slow,

But sound and nimble in pursuit of ill.

The count departs, disguised in sable show, Nor for so many friends, with froward will, Deserted cares; and comes where on the plain Are camped the hosts of Afric and of Spain;

The promises and empty vows dispersed In air, by winds all dissipated go, After these lovers have the greedy thirst Appeased, with which their fevered palates glow. In this example which I offer, versed, Their prayers and tears to credit be more slow.

Cheaply, dear ladies mine, is wisdom bought

By those who wit at other’s cost are taught.

For past, as soon as bred, their fancies are; Like a straw-fire their every appetite. So the keen hunter follows up the hare In heat and cold, on shore, or mountain-height; Nor, when ’tis taken, more esteems the prize;

And only hurries after that which flies.

Such is the practice of these striplings who, What time you treat them with austerity, Love and revere you, and such homage do, As those who pay their service faithfully; But vaunt no sooner victory, than you From mistresses shall servants grieve to be;

or, as on funeral pile Fair Dido, she beneath the steel had bled; Or, haply, like the gorgeous Queen of Nile, In mortal slumber would have closed her eye:

But fairies cannot at their pleasure die.

Return we, where eternal fame is due, Leaving Alcina in her trouble sore: I speak of valorous Rogero, who Had disembarked upon the safer shore. He turned his back upon the waters blue, Giving God thanks for all with pious lore;

His vices and his virtues see expressed. Hence shall he after heed no flattery, Nor yet by wrongful censure be depressed. His form he in the lucid mirror eyes,

And by the knowledge of himself grows wise.

Their rays, which imitate the sunshine, fill All round about with such a flood of light, That he who has them, Phoebus, may at will Create himself a day, in thy despite. Nor only marvellous the gems;

Through wood and field his courser did he goad, Often inquiring for the royal dame:

Beside himself, he strayed beside his road,

And to the foot of rising mountain came, Whence (it was night-time) through a fissure glowed The distant flicker of a quivering flame. Orlando to the rock approached, to spy If there Angelica concealed might lie.

a priest the first; The second, but a worshipper of wine, Drained, at a draught, whole runlets in his thirst; Aye wonted simple water to decline, Like viper’s blood or venom: now immersed In this, he perishes amid that slaughter;

And, what breeds most affliction, dies by water.

Lewis the Provençal is cleft in two; Arnold of Thoulouse through the breast before; Hubert of Tours, sir Dionysius, Hugh, And Claud, pour forth their ghosts in reeking gore. Odo, Ambaldo, Satallon ensue, And Walter next;

Slaughtered the Saracens and Christians lie By thousands and by thousands heaped this while; And if the Moor outside of Paris die, Within the Sarzan so destroys each pile, Such slaughter deals, that greater ill than this Never before has been exprest, I wiss.

Love’s penalties are manifold and dread: Of which I have endured the greater part,

And, to my cost, in these so well am read, That I can speak of them as ’twere my art. Hence if I say, or if I ever said, (Did speech or living page my thoughts impart) “One ill is grievous and another light.”

The youthful Gryphon finds him in this case, Who sees the error which he cannot right; He sees how vilely he his heart does place On faithless Origille, his vain delight:

Yet evil use doth sovereign reason chase, And free-will is subdued by appetite.

Though a foul mind the lady’s actions speak, Her, wheresoe’er she is, must Gryphon seek.

Such reasons, and yet better for, that need Might good Rinaldo in his speech infer; And with quick phrase and voice, to valiant deed The high-minded barons and bold army stir;

And this was but to goad a willing steed (As the old proverb says) who lacks no spur.

He moved the squadrons, having closed his speech, Softly, beneath their separate banners, each.

“While, with much solace, seated in a round, We from the chase expect our lord’s return, Approaching us along the shore, astound, The orc, that fearful monster, we discern. God grant, fair sir, he never may confound Your eyesight with his semblance foul and stern!

Better it is of him by fame to hear, Than to behold him by approaching near.

“To calculate the griesly monster’s height, (So measureless is he) exceeds all skill; Of fungus-hue, in place of orbs of sight, Their sockets two small bones like berries fill. Towards us, as I say, he speeds outright Along the shore, and seems a moving hill.

Thou Spain, hast thou not fruitful Afric nigh? And has she not in sooth offended more Than Italy? yet her to scathe, that high, And noble, enterprise wilt thou give o’er.

Alas! thou sleepest, drunken Italy, Of every vice and crime the fetid sewer!

Nor grievest, as a handmaid, to obey, In turn, the nations that have owned thy sway.

Save you united go, be sure the land Is shut against you, wheresoe’er you speed.

Too high a wall to climb is mountain-steep, The yawning sea a ditch too wide to leap.

“Far better ’tis to perish than to be Torn by these dogs, or lie at their control. Since vain is every other remedy, Wait, friends, for love of Heaven, the advancing shoal: They are not gifted with more lives than we;

“

Far better ’tis to perish than to be Torn by these dogs, or lie at their control.

Since vain is every other remedy, Wait, friends, for love of Heaven, the advancing shoal: They are not gifted with more lives than we; Have but one pair of hands, have but one soul.”

“Far better ’tis to perish than to be Torn by these dogs, or lie at their control. Since vain is every other remedy, Wait, friends, for love of Heaven, the advancing shoal:

They are not gifted with more lives than we; Have but one pair of hands, have but one soul.

” So saying, the bold youth, amid the crew Of enemies, the Earl of Huntley slew.

Fortune still blocked their path throughout the day, So that they met not, ’mid that chivalry, And kept one as a mightier champion’s prey;

For rarely man escapes his destiny.

Behold the good Rinaldo turns that way! That, for this one no refuge there might be. Lo! good Rinaldo comes: him Fortune guides, And for his sword King Dardinel provides.

But that the wise and wary king of Spain, Gathered, and from the field bore off the rest: To sit down with his loss he better gain Esteemed, that here to hazard purse and vest:

Better some remnant of the host to save, Than bid whole squadrons stand and find a grave.

He bids forthwith the Moorish ensigns be Borne to the camp, which fosse and rampart span, With the bold monarch of Andology, The valiant Portuguese, and Stordilan. He sends to pray the king of Barbary, To endeavour to retire, as best be can;

blest it at that board They still had watched, till, clothed in amber light, The radiant sun had traversed Indus’ ford!

But mortals Destiny would set at nought If every wight futurity were taught.

As, in full fold, a lion long unfed, Whom wasting famine had made lean and spare, Devours and rends, and swallows, and lays dead The feeble flock, which at his mercy are;

He to Labretto’s duke, leaving those dead, Had come, who slumbered with a gentle mate,

Each clasping each so closely in their bed, That air between them could not penetrate.

From both Medoro cleanly lopt the head. Oh! blessed way of death! oh! happy fate! For ’tis my trust, that as their bodies, so Their souls embracing to their bourne shall go.

Expecting thus some spoil or prize to gain, They, every one, towards that quarter hie. “Brother, behoves us,” cried young Cloridane, “To cast away the load we bear, and fly:

For ’twere a foolish thought (might well be said) To lose two living men, to save one dead;

”

And next of shame renouncing every tie, With tongue as bold as eyes, petition made, And begged him, haply an unwitting foe, To sheathe the suffering of that cruel blow.

O Count Orlando, O king of Circassy, Say what your valour has availed to you!

Say what your honour boots, what goodly fee Remunerates ye both, for service true! Sirs, show me but a single courtesy, With which she ever graced ye—old or new— As some poor recompense, desert, or guerdon, For having born so long so sore a burden!

“With amorous pleasures teemed this place of rest, For ten days, to that roving company: But, as oft happens that in youthful breast Abundance brings with it satiety, To quit their women, with one wish possest, The band resolved to win their liberty;

For never burden does so sore oppress As woman, when her love breeds weariness.

“They, who are covetous of spoil and gain, And ill-bested withal in stipend, know That better means are wanted to maintain So many paramours, than shaft and bow;

If one can singly slay ten men in fight, How many women can he not restrain? If our ten champions had possessed such might, They the first day would have usurped the reign.

To arm a hand more powerful than your own Is an ill method to maintain the throne.

“ ‘Reflect withal, that if your prisoner speed So that he kill ten champions in the fray, A hundred women’s cry, whose lords will bleed Beneath his falchion, shall your ears dismay. Let him not ’scape by such a murderous deed;

that so The starlings and the doves in flock unite, And every beast who fears—the stag and doe; But hawk and eagle, that in other’s might Put not their trust, for ever singly go;

And lion, bear, and tiger, roam alone, Who fear no prowess greater than their own.

”

And now appears more foul, as angered sore, While rage and wrath her kindled eyes express.

For none can do a woman worse despite Than to proclaim her old and foul to sight.

To have sport of him—as she had—an air Of wrath the maid assumed upon her part, And to the prince, “By Heaven, more passing fair Is this my lady than thou courteous art,” Exclaimed in answer;

Faith should be kept unbroken evermore, With one or with a thousand men united; As well if given in grot or forest hoar, Remote from town and hamlet, as if plighted Amid a crowd of witnesses, before Tribunal, and in act and deed recited:

Nor needs the solemn sanction of an oath: It is sufficient that we pledge our troth.

And this maintains as it maintained should be, In each emprize the Scottish cavalier, And gives good proof of his fidelity, Quitting his road with that old crone to steer;

they fail At times, and have their season of repose: I feel, my breast can never less exhale Its sorrow: Love, who with his pinions blows The fire about my heart, creates this gale.

Love, by what miracle does thou contrive, It wastes not in the fire thou keep’st alive?

“I am not—am not what I seem to sight: What Roland was is dead and under ground, Slain by that most ungrateful lady’s spite, Whose faithlessness inflicted such a wound.

“I am not—am not what I seem to sight:

What Roland was is dead and under ground, Slain by that most ungrateful lady’s spite,

Whose faithlessness inflicted such a wound. Divided from the flesh, I am his sprite, Which in this hell, tormented, walks its round, To be, but in its shadow left above, A warning to all such as thrust in love.”

For love, in fine, is nought but phrensied rage, By universal suffrage of the wise: And albeit some may show themselves more sage Than Roland, they but sin in other guise.

For, what proves folly more than on this shelf, Thus, for another, to destroy oneself?

Various are love’s effects; but from one source All issue, though they lead a different way. He is, as ’twere, a forest, where parforce Who enter its recess go astray; And here and there pursue their devious course:

Let him make haste his feet to disengage, Nor lime his wings, whom Love has made a prize;

For love, in fine, is nought but phrensied rage, By universal suffrage of the wise:

And albeit some may show themselves more sage Than Roland, they but sin in other guise. For, what proves folly more than on this shelf, Thus, for another, to destroy oneself?

“To let the traitor live I am content, Who, if full grace he has not merited, Yet merits not to be so foully shent. I, as I find his fault of Love was bred, To give him life and liberty consent;

And easily we all excuses own, When on commanding Love the blame is thrown.

“Often has Love turned upside down a brain Of sounder wit than that to him assigned, And led to mischief of far deeper stain, Than has so outraged us. Let Odoric find Pardon his offences;

Let Odoric find Pardon his offences; I the pain Of these should justly suffer, who was blind;

Blind when I gave him such a trust, nor saw How easily the fire consumes the straw.

”

for, save that the command Was laid upon them by their lady gay, Neither would in that battle sheathe the brand, Till he was crowned with the victorious bay; And Agramant might vainly with his band, For either knight’s expected succour, stay.

Then Love is not of evil nature still; —He can at times do good, if often ill.

’Twas now, suspending all their hostile rage, One and the other paynim cavalier, The Moorish host from siege to disengage, For Paris, with the gentle lady, steer;

but never word Have I found written of a female bent On love of female, mid mankind or herd.

Woman to woman’s beauty still is blind; Nor ewe delights in ewe, nor hind in hind.

“ ‘ ’Tis only I, on earth, in air, or sea, Who suffer at thy hands such cruel pain; And this thou hast ordained, that I may be The first and last example in thy reign.

“Of Flordespine I knew: and I had seen In Saragossa and in France the maid; To whose bewitching eyes and lovely mien My youthful appetite had often strayed: Yet her I would not make my fancy’s queen;

For hopeless love is but a dream and shade:

Now I this proffered in such substance view, Straitway the ancient flame breaks forth anew.

Marphisa raised her face with haughty cheer, And answered him; “Thy judgment wanders far; I will concede thy sentence would be clear, Concluding I am thine by right of war, If either were my lord or cavalier Of those, by thee unhorsed in bloody jar:

Nor theirs am I, nor other’s, but my own, Who wins me, wins me from myself alone.

“I too with lance and sword do doughty deed, And more than one good knight on earth have laid. —Give me,” she cried, “my armour and my steed.” And readily her squires that hest obeyed:

Many who had escaped by quick retreat, Rodomont and those other furious three, Thank God that he had given them legs and feet, Wherewith to fly from that calamity; And from the Child and damsel new defeat Encounter, while with endlong course they flee:

As man, no matter if he stands or run, Seeks vainly his predestined doom to shun.

Who ’scape one peril, into other fly, And pay the penalty of flesh and blood;

“Yet be not therefore proud and full of scorn Women, because man issues from your seed;

For roses also blossom on the thorn, And the fair lily springs from loathsome weed.

Despiteous, proud, importunate, and lorn Of love, of faith, of counsel, rash in deed, With that, ungrateful, cruel and perverse, And born to be the world’s eternal curse!”

Now easing in low tone his troubled mind, And now in sounds which were at distance heard, In shame and in reproach of womankind; Yet certes he from sober reason erred:

For we may deem a hundred good abound, Where one or two perchance are evil found.

Though none for whom I hitherto have sighed —Of those so many—have kept faith with me, All with ingratitude, or falsehood dyed I deem not, I accuse my destiny. Many there are, and have been more beside Unmeriting reproach:

though ne’er Was praise or fame conveyed in that which flies From such a caitiff’s tongue; and still we hear

The sottish rabble all things rashly brand, And question most what least they understand.

Omit this canto, and—the tale untold— My story will as clear and perfect be; I tell it, since by Turpin it is told, And not in malice or in rivalry:

‘What shall we do In order not to be a woman’s jest? Since we, with all our heed, between us two, Could not preserve the one by us possest,

A husband, furnished with more eyes than hair, Perforce must be betrayed with all his care.

“ ‘A thousand, beauteous all, have we found kind, Nor one of those so many has stood fast. If tried, all women we by proof should find Like these; but be the experiment our last.

Rodomont navigates the day and night Ensuing, aye by heavy thoughts opprest; Nor can he ever banish the despite, Suffered from King and Lady, from his breast. The selfsame grief sate heavy on his sprite Aboard the bark, as when his steed he prest.

Such fire was not by water to be drowned, Nor he his nature changed by changing ground.

As the sick man who with a fever grows, And, weak and weary, shifts his place in vain, Whether he right or left himself bestows, And hopes in turning some relief to gain, Finds neither on this side nor that repose, But everywhere encounters equal …

As soon as he of Sarza saw appear The beauteous dame, he laid the thought aside Of hatred to that gentle race and dear, By whom alone the world is glorified; And best by Isabel the cavalier Believed his former love would be supplied,

And one love by another be effaced, As bolt by bolt in timber is displaced.

Her with the kindest mien and mildest tone That he could fashion, met the Sarzan knight; To whom the dame her every thought made known;

Who, having his unhappy error read, Seeks to appease his wounded spirit in vain. He builds a bridge, and strips those thither led; But falls from it with Roland the insane; Who thence, of him regardless, endlong speeds, And by the road achieves prodigious deeds.

O feeble and unstable minds of men! How quickly our intentions fluctuate!

All thoughts we lightly change, but mostly when These from some lover’s quarrel take their date.

… imagined, as a pain, That, risking oft to tumble in the course, Head-first into that stream, where he must drain Huge draughts of water in his fall, parforce, He would assoil and cleanse him from that stain, Whereof excess in wine had been the source;

As if what ill wine prompts to do or say, Water, as well as wine, could wash away.

Soon thitherward flocked many a cavalier; Some who pursued the beaten road and plain; Since for wayfaring men, who southward steer, No straighter lay for Italy or Spain: Their courage and their honour, held more dear Than life, excited others of the train;

The foolish rabble anxiously attends Those goodly champions’ contest for the prize,

A crowd which neither sees nor comprehends Other than that which is before its eyes.

But they who know what boots and what offends, —Marsilius and Sobrino, and the wise— Censure the fight, and monarch that affords A field of combat to those martial lords.

“If of small value life to you appear, And you esteem a painted bird more high, At least for my life’s sake esteem yours dear; For one without the other shall not die.

With you to die excites in me no fear; With you, prepared for life or death am I:

Yet would I fain not die so ill content, As I should die if you before me went.”

For by all bitters else which interpose Before enjoyment of this choicest sweet, Love is augmented, to perfection grows, And takes a finer edge; to drink and eat, Hunger and thirst the palate so dispose, And flavour more our beverage and our meat.

Feebly that wight can estimate the charms Of peace, who never knew the pain of arms.

That which the heart aye sees, though undiscerned Of human eye, we can support in peace. To him long absent, to his love returned, A longer absence is but joy’s increase.

To him long absent, to his love returned, A longer absence is but joy’s increase. Service may be endured, though nought is earned, So that the hope of guerdon does not cease.

For worthy service in the end is paid, Albeit its wages should be long delayed.

Scorn, and repulse, and finally each pain Of suffering love, his every martyrdom, Through recollection, make us entertain Delights with greater rapture, when they come.

“For in complete assurance that you are A real offset of our ancient tree, You could no better testimony bear Than the tried valour which in you we see; If your demeanour more pacific were, We ill should have believed your ancestry:

Since neither lion from the doe proceeds, Nor fearful pigeon, hawk or eagle breeds.

”

“Yet, ah! why blame myself? Wherein have I Ever offended, save in loving thee? What wonder was it then that suddenly A woman’s feeble sense opprest should be? Why fence and guard myself, lest bearing high, Wise words, and beauty rare should pleasure me?

Most wretched is the mortal that would shun To look upon the visage of the sun.

“Besides that me my destiny entrained, Words, worthy credence, moved me much, that drew A picture of rare happiness, ordained As meed of this fair unless to ensue.

“

Knowest thou not, without it, worthless are All gentle bearing and all martial might?

As there is nothing, howsoever fair, That can be seen without the aid of light. Easily mightest thou a maid ensnare, Lord as thou was, and idol in her sight.

As when the stage’s curtain is uprolled, Mid thousand lamps, appears the mimic scene, Adorned with arch and palace, pictures, gold, And statues; or, as limpid and serene The sun his visage, glorious to behold, Unveils, emerging from a cloudy screen;

So when the lady doffs her iron case, All paradise seems opened in her face.

Already so well-grown and widely spread Were the bright tresses which the hermit shore, These, gathered in a knot, behind her head, Though shorter than their wont, the damsel wore;

alas! a sheer Reality is this my waking bane; My joy a dream and prompt to disappear, No dream my cruel and tormenting pain. Ah! wherefore what I seemed to see and hear, Cannot I, waking, see and hear again?

What ails ye, wretched eyes, that closed ye show Unreal good, and open but on woe?

“Sweet sleep with promised peace my soul did buoy, But I to bitter warfare wake anew; Sweet sleep but brought with it fallacious joy, But—sure and bitter—waking ills ensue. If falsehood so delight and truth annoy, Never more may I see or hear what’s true!

“

Blest animals that sleep through half the year, Nor ope your heavy eyelids, night nor day!

For if such tedious sleep like death appear, Such watching is like life, I will not say, Since—such my lot, beyond all wont, severe— I death in watching, life in sleep assay. But oh!

By John advised in all, to heaven he steers; Of some of his lost sense here repossest, Orlando’s wasted wit as well he takes, Sees the Fates spin their threads, and earthward makes.

O fierce and hungry harpies, that on blind And erring Italy so full have fed!

Whom, for the scourge of ancient sins designed, Haply just Heaven to every board has sped. Innocent children, pious mothers, pined With hunger, die, and see their daily bread, —The orphan’s and the widow’s scanty food— Feed for a single feast that filthy brood.

“Rejected of the monarch was the peer, Who was resolved his child should highly wed; Not him who was a simple cavalier; Who, saving valour, was with nought bested For on my father, bent on gain and gear And avarice, of all vice the fountain-head,

Manners and merit for as little pass, As the lute’s music on the lumpish ass.

“Alcestes, he of whom I speak (so hight That warrior), when he sees his suit denied, Repulsed by one, by whom he had most right To think that he should most be gratified, Craves his discharge, and threatens he this slight Will make the Lydian …

For pain which fits my sin, dark fumes now stain My cheek, and with salt rheum mine eyes o’erflow.

Thus in eternal torment shall I dwell; For saving mercy helpeth not in hell.

”

He, that with other scope had thither soared, Pauses not all these wonder to peruse: But led by the disciple of our Lord, His way towards a spacious vale pursues; A place wherein is wonderfully stored Whatever on our earth below we lose.

Collected there are all things whatsoe’er, Lost through time, chance, or our own folly, here.

Nor here alone of realm and wealthy dower, O’er which aye turns the restless wheel, I say: I speak of what it is not in the power Of Fortune to bestow, or take away.

Nor here alone of realm and wealthy dower, O’er which aye turns the restless wheel, I say: I speak of what it is not in the power Of Fortune to bestow, or take away.

Much fame is here, whereon Time and the Hour, Like wasting moth, in this our planet prey.

Here countless vows, here prayers unnumbered lie, Made by us sinful men to God on high.

Where’er they be, all hearts of gentle strain Still cannot choose but courtesy pursue; For they from nature and from habit gain What they henceforth can never more undo. Alike the heart that is of churlish vein, Where’er it be, its evil kind will shew.

Nature inclines to ill, through all her range, And use is second nature, hard to change.

Among the warriors of antiquity Much gentleness and courtesy appear, Virtues but seldom seen with us; while we Of evil ways, on all sides, see and hear. Hippolytus, when you, with ensignry Won from the foe, and with his captive gear Adorned our temples;

Such end to compass is no hard assay; For, besides fearing lest Marphisa yearn To execute more vengeance—lest she say, —“She one and all will slaughter and will burn,”— The townsmen all were advised to the sway And cruel statute of that tyrant stern;

But did, as others mostly do, that best Obey the master whom they most detest.

Since none dares trust another, nor his will, —Out of suspicion—to his comrades break, They let him banish one, another kill, From this his substance, that his honour take.

The rabble, full of rage and enmity, Now seeks the wretch with word and deed to grieve As, it is said, all strip the fallen tree, Which from its roots and wintry winds upheave:

Let rulers in his sad example see, Ill doers in the end shall ill receive.

To view fell Marganor’s disastrous fall, Fit penance for his sins, pleased great and small.

So Marganor whilere each bound and bourn Made tremble, whereso’er his name was heard: Now one is come to bruise the tyrant’s horn; And now his prowess is so little feared, That even the little children work him scorn;

Some pluck his hair and others pluck his beard.

Thence young Rogero and the damsels twain Towards his rock-built castle turn the rein.

He will perform his duty to repair To his liege lord; so did that martial maid; Who had not with reiterated prayer (As so she might have done) Rogero stayed. The stripling may appay the warlike fair In other season, if not now appaid;

But twice two hundred years will not atone The crying sin of honour once foregone.

To Arles-town, whither had his king conveyed His remnant of a host, he pricked anew; While they that, since their kindred was displayed, Had a close friendship formed—the damsels two— Thither together go where Charles had made His mightiest effort, with the Christian crew;

“Ne’er, in my judgment, should the married dame Be from espial by her lord released: Thus shall he know if honour or if blame His portion is; if he is man or beast.

The weight of horns, though coupled with such shame, Is of all burdens upon the earth the least.

While well-nigh all behold his antlers spread, He feels them not who has them on his head.

Thus shall he know if honour or if blame His portion is; if he is man or beast. The weight of horns, though coupled with such shame, Is of all burdens upon the earth the least.

While well-nigh all behold his antlers spread, He feels them not who has them on his head.

“If certain of thy wife’s fidelity, Thou hast more ground to prize and hold her dear Than one, whose wife is evil known to be, Or husband that is still in doubt and fear.

“If certain of thy wife’s fidelity, Thou hast more ground to prize and hold her dear Than one, whose wife is evil known to be, Or husband that is still in doubt and fear.

Full many husbands live in jealousy, And groundlessly, of women chaste and clear.

On many women many men rely Meanwhile, who bear their branching antlers high.

Fain would he think awhile, of whom I speak, (As said) ere to his lips the vase he bore; He thought; then thus: “When finding what we seek Displeases, this ’tis folly to explore,

My wife’s a woman; every woman’s weak. Then let me hold the faith I held before.

Faith still has brought, and yet contentment brings. From proof itself what better profit springs?

“With such fierce arms thou ill didst her assail, If to behold a brave defence thou sought.

Knowst thou not, against gold of no avail Is stone, or steel to hardest temper wrought?

Meseems that thou in tempting her didst fail More than herself, that was so quickly caught. I know not, had she tempted thee as much, If thou, thyself, hadst better stood the touch.”

“

How blest would doubt appear, had he that wound Foreseen, which would be given by certainty!

When out of that false nurse at last he found He could not fish the truth by prayer or fee, Touching no chord but yielded a false sound, He shrewdly waits his time till there should be Discord between the beldam and his wife:

To whom such reverence, and respect, she bears, She thinks no choice is left but to obey. Yet a foul fault it in her eyes appears, If what she will not do, she falsely say:

She will not, for she cannot; since above All guidance, great or small, is mighty Love.

Deny she dared not, nor yet seem content; So, sighed and spake not; but—when uncontrolled She could—she gave her secret sorrow vent, While from her eyes the tears like billows rolled;

“Rogero, I what I was till death will be; And be more faithful, if I can be more: Deals Love in kindness or in scorn with me; Hath doubtful Fortune good or ill in store;

I am a very rock of faith, by sea And winds unmoved, which round about it roar.

Nor I have changed for calm or storm, nor I Will ever change to all eternity.

’Tis plain to sight, through instances that fill The page of ancient and of modern story,

That ill succeeds to good, and good to ill; That glory ends in shame, and shame in glory;

And that man should not trust, deluded still, In riches, realm, or field of battle, gory With hostile blood, nor yet despair, for spurns Of Fortune; since her wheel for ever turns.

And that with further end the youthful lord Her from his heart more speedily to chase, Will rove from realm to realm, till one afford Some dame, that may his former love efface;

Even, as the proverb says, that in a board One nail drives out another from its place.

A second thought succeeds, and paints the youth Arraigned of fickleness, as full of truth;

Joys Clermont’s, joys Mongrana’s noble house, Those kindred branches that fresh know to view. With equal grief Count Anselm overflows, Gan, Falcon, Gini and Ginami’s crew: Yet they meanwhile beneath contented brows Conceal the dark and envious thoughts they brew.

As the fox waits the motions of the hare, They wait their time for vengeance, and forbear.

Besides that oftentimes before the rage Of Roland and Rinaldo on them fell, Though they were calmed by Charles’s counsel sage, And common danger from the infidel, They had new cause for grief in Bertolage Slain by their foemen and Sir Pinnabel:

Nor (what oft gives success in martial feat) That with the paynim was the better right. Yet cannot she her some ill misgivings quell.

But upon those that love such fear sits well.

Oh! in her fear for him, how willingly She battle for Rogero would have done! If lifeless on the listed field to lie Surer than sure—in fight with Ulien’s son.