Orlando Fvrioso in English Heroical Verse by Sr Iohn Haringto[n] ... Now secondly imprinted |
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| XXIII. | THE XXIII. BOOKE. |
 | Orlando Fvrioso |  |
177
THE XXIII. BOOKE.
THE ARGVMENT.
Astolfo on the Griffith horse doth mount:To Zerbin Pinnabellos death is laid;
Orlando saueth him: fierce Rodomount
Frontyno takes from Bradamantes maid:
The Paladyn and Mandricard confront;
They part by chance, and each from other straid:
Orlando falls starke mad, with sorrow taken,
To heare his mistres hath him quite forsaken.
1
Let eu'rie one do all the good they can,For seldom cometh harme of doing well,
Though iust reward it wāteth now and than,
Yet shame, and euill death it doth expell,
But he that mischieueth another man,
Doth seldome carrie it to heau'n or hell:
Men say it, and we see it come to passe,
Good turns in sand, shrewd turns are writ in brasse.
2
Seeld mountaines meet, but men may often meet,(The Prouerbe saith) and who so sets a trap,
May catch himselfe, as here you plainly se e't
In him, that thought this dame in woes to wrap,
But hurts himselfe; a punishment most meet;
God still defending her from all mishap:
God her preseru'd, and will all those preserue,
As shunne all vice, and him sincerely serue.
3
It little did auaile to Pinnabell,To be amid his kinsfolke and his frends;
And neare the castle, where his sire did dwell,
Where eu'rie one, him honours and attends,
Loe here the end of him doth plainly tell,
How wicked liues haue often wretched ends:
But to proceed, I said when he was slaine,
The noble damsell sought her way againe.
4
Which when she saw she could by no meanes know,But more and more vncertainly did roue;
And sees the sunne was now declining low;
She meanes that night to rest her in the groue:
And sleepe sometime, or else sometime (I trow)
To looke on Mars, on Saturne, or on Ioue,
But chiefly, whether she awakes or sleepes;
Rogeros image in her heart she keepes.
5
Oft times she fretting to her selfe would say,Loe; hate with me farre more preuailed hath,
Then loue could do, that now haue lost my way,
And left my comfort to auenge my wrath;
Nor had my wit so much forecast or stay,
To take some marke of my foretrodden path:
I did (quoth she) as fooles are wont to do,
Take one shrewd turne to do another two.
6
These words and many like to these she spake,To passe the rest of that her restlesse night,
Till starres gan vanish and the dawning brake,
And all the Easter parts were full of light,
Then at aduenture she her way doth take,
Not knowing yet if it were wrong or right;
And hauing traueld in that way some miles,
By hap Astolfo came that way the whiles.
7
He rides the winged horse, but in his hand,He leades the famous Rabican behinde;
And eu'n as then, in great doubt he did stand,
Where to bestow a beast of so good kind:
She knowing him, went to him out of hand,
With words, with showes, and with embracements kind,
And ioyd to find this kinsman of her owne,
And vnto him her selfe she maketh knowne.
178
8
Astolfo much reioyst at this their meeting,Then one the other askt of their well fare,
And after their long talke, and friendly greeting,
In which each shewd of other louing care:
Sith I (quoth he) intend hence to be fleeting,
To see what sights in forren countries are,
This horse of me, I shall request you take,
Till I returne, and keepe him for my sake.
9
Also he said, this corslet and this speare,With you I leaue till I returne againe,
(This speare the sonne of Galafron did beare,
Whom as you heard before Ferraw had slaine,)
With head whereof, if any touched were,
Straight wayes to fall to ground they must be faine,
All these he left behind to make him light,
Before that he begins to take his flight.
10
Thus leaue once tane, away the Duke doth sore,First low, and after still more hye and hye,
Till at the length she could him see no more;
So doth the Pylot first, with watchfull eye,
Guide out his vessell softlie by the shore,
While he doth thinke the rocks and shallowes nye:
But after when he dreads no more such doubts,
He sayles apace, and claps on all his clouts.
11
Now when the Duke was from the damsell gone,What she might do she mused in her minde,
And carefully she meditates thereon:
How she may take the iourney first assignd,
And not neglect her kinsmans charge; anon
A wandring peasant twas her hap to finde,
To him she doth betake the horses spare,
Though of the wayes they both vnskilfull are.
12
Her meaning was to go to Vallumbrose,As first her loue and she concluded had,
Whom there to finde she certaine doth suppose;
Whom there to find, she would haue bene full glad,
But loe a quite contrarie course she goes,
And sees a sight that made her then full sad,
Her fathers house Montalbanie she spide,
In which as then her mother did abide.
13
If she shall forward go, approching nire,She shalbe stayed there, she stands in doubt,
If she stand still, or backward do retire,
She feares to meet acquaintance there about;
If she be staid, she feeles such burning fire,
Of longing loue as cannot be put out:
She chaunst amid these thoughts, and many other,
To meet Alardo there her younger brother.
14
This meeting in her minde bred much vexation,When as she found her brother her had spide,
And made her alter her determination,
Which that she might from him the better hide,
She vsd some common words of salutation,
And to Montalban with him she doth ride,
Where as her mother, full of care and feare,
Had wisht, and wayted for her comming there.
15
But all those kind embracings and those kisses,She had of parent, kinsmen kinde, and frends,
She deems of little vallue to those blisses,
That she had lost, and thought them small amends:
But sith to meet Rogero now she misses,
To send a messenger she now intends,
Some such to whom she may commit the charge,
To tell her mind vnto her loue at large.
16
And if neede were to pray him in her name,As he had promist her, to be baptised,
And to excuse, that thither she not came,
As they togither had before deuised:
Besides his horse Frontino, by the same,
She sent a horse of goodnes not despised,
No horse in France or Spaine esteemed more,
Bayardo sole except, and Brigliadore.
17
Rogero (if you call it well to minde)What time the Griffith horse he first did take,
That soard away as swift as western winde,
And forst him quickly Europe to forsake,
That gallant beast Frontino left behind,
Whom Bradamant then, for his masters sake,
Tooke home, and with much care and costly feeding
Made him by this time, faire and fat exceeding.
18
And straight her mayds and women seruants all,That skilfull were to sow, to weaue, and knit,
She doth to worke in hast togither call,
And she her selfe among them all doth sit,
To worke a net, of art and cost not small,
For his caparison to make it fit:
When this was done, and finisht, straight way after,
She calls her nurse Callitrifeas daughter.
19
This mayd knew best her minde of all the rest,And oft had heard her praising to the skyes,
Rogeros comly shape, aud valiant brest,
His sugred speech, sweet face, and lou'ly eyes;
This mayd with secrets all shee trusted best,
On this mayds secrecie, she much relyes;
Hyppalca named was this trustie mayd,
Her then she cald, and thus to her she said.
20
Hyppalca mine, you know of all my crew,Of women seruants, I esteeme you most,
As one that hath bene secret, wise, and trew,
(A praise of which we women seld can bost)
My meaning is to make a choise of you,
To haue you to Rogero ride in post;
And vnto him mine absence to excuse,
And shew, that I could neither will nor chuse.
21
Your selfe (quoth she) may ride a litle nagge,And in your hand lead by Frontino spare,
And if perhap some foole wilbe so bragge,
As that to take the horse from you he dare,
To make him that he shall no farther wagge,
But tell who owes the horse, and do not care:
She thought Rogero was of so great fame,
That eu'rie one would quake to heare his name.
179
22
Thus when Hypalca was instructed well,Of all that to her arrant did belong,
And that no more remaind behind to tell,
She tooke her horse, and there she stayd not long,
In ten miles space (so luckie it befell)
None offer made to do her any wrong,
No traueller, no knight, nor peasant staid her,
Nor once with word or deed so much as frayd her.
23
About the time the Sunne to South did mount,She met (poore soule) a knight, vnto her cost,
That Turke most terrible cald Rodomount,
That followd armd on foote, a page in post;
Who when he saw an horse of such account,
He God blasphemd and all the heau'nly host,
That such a gallant seruiceable beast,
In some mans hand, he had not found at least.
24
He had before profest by solemne vow,When wanting horse, he traueld on his feet,
That were't frō knight, or knaue that driues a plow,
To take perforce the next horse he should meet:
Yet though he likt the horse, to take this now,
And rob a mayd thereof, he thought vnmeet,
He sees her leade a horse, and he doth lacke,
And oft he wisht his master on his backe.
25
I would he were (quoth she) he soone would make,You change your mind, and glad to get you hence,
And you should find how much you do mistake,
Your strength and force to offer him offence.
And who (quoth he) is this, of whom you crake?
Rogero she replies: forsooth, and sence
So great a champion is the horses owner.
I may (said he) then take him with mine honor.
26
To take his horse (quoth he) I now intend,For of a horse you see I stand in need:
And if I find it true as you pretend,
That he so stout a champion is in deed,
I Rodomont this action will defend,
Now on my present iourney I proceed,
And where I go my vertues shine so bright,
He soone may find me if he list to fight.
27
This said, with cruell threats, and part with force,He gat his will, full sore against her will,
And straight he mounteth vp vpon that horse,
She cursing followd him, and banning still,
But of those curses he doth little force;
Then winners bost, when leesers speake their fill,
Best pleasd was he, when as she wisht him worst,
As still the foxefares best when he is curst.
28
But what she saith he little doth regard,Suppose she curst, or prayd, or rayld, or cride,
He seekes out Doralice and Mandricard,
And had the little dwarfe to be his guide,
No little hast he maketh thitherward:
But here a while mine author steps aside,
And to that place of purpose makes digression,
Where Pinabell was shriu'n without confession.
29
The noble Dame no sooner left the place,Where late this caitiue by her hand was slaine,
But Zerbin there arriu'd in little space,
With old Gabrina, who perceiuing plaine,
One murtherd, straight he followed the trace,
(Lest murther vnreuenged should remaine)
He minds if fortune be so much his furderer:
To be reuenged sharply on the murderer.
30
Gabrina to the quarrie straight approcheth,Looke all about, searching the corse and prying,
(As one that still on eu'rie gaine encrocheth)
To win both by the liuing and the dying,
In purses and in pokets all she pocheth,
Of him that murtherd on the ground was lying,
As hauing this, conioynd to other euills,
In couetise to passe the verie deuills.
31
She would haue had his cote and armor faine,Saue that she knew not how them to haue hidden,
But from great part of that desired gaine,
By want of leysure she was then forbidden;
Howb'it she did conuay away his chaine,
And er Zerbino backe againe was ridden,
She put it safely where it was not seene,
Her vpper gowne and peticote betweene.
32
And sore it grieued her to leaue the rest,But now Zerbino was returned backe,
And for the time drew nigh of taking rest,
And night came now to spred his mantell blacke,
To seeke some lodging out they thought it best,
Of which, in that wild countrie was great lacke.
They leaue the valley, and they came that night,
Vnto a castell Altariua hight.
33
They thither went, and long they had not stayd,But in came people with great exclamation,
With wofull news, that many hearts dismayd,
And filld their mouths and eyes with lamentation,
How Pinabell was murderd and betrayd,
And lost his life, & worldly habitation.
And straight they brought the corse with light of torches
And led the same through all the courts & porches.
34
Great were the plaints, the sorow and the griefe,By kindred made, by tenants and his frends;
But by his father, old Anselmus chiefe,
Who, though reuenge be but a small amends,
And his sonnes life was now past all reliefe,
By search to find the murdrer he intends.
Zerbino hereof makes himselfe a stranger,
As well to shunne suspition as danger.
35
Now when the funerals in stately sort,Ordained were with pompe and superstition
To which great store of people did resort,
And all that would, had franke and free permission,
Straight with oyes, a crier doth report,
Thereto assigned by that Earles commission,
That who so could the murderer bewray,
Should haue a thousand duckats for his pay.
180
36
This newes from mouth to mouth, from eare to eare,(As newes are wont to do) did flie so fast,
That old Gabrina, being present there,
Among the rest, heard of it at the last:
Who either for the hatred she did beare,
To good Zerbino, for some matters past,
Or else for gaine of that so great reward,
Straight to destroy Zerbino she prepard.
37
And that she might more surely him entrap,With th'Erle himselfe to speake she doth request,
And probably, she tels how this mishap,
Was by Zerbino wrought his new come guest:
And straight she puld the chaine out of her lap,
Which sole might serue to verifie the rest:
That aged sire, that all the tale beleeued,
Was sore inrag'd herewith, not onely grieued.
38
And lifting vp his hands vnto the skies,With age now feeble, feeble now with woe,
With fainting voice he spake, and watrie eies,
(My sonne) thou shalt not vnreuenged go:
And while in bed secure Zerbino lyes,
Not thinking he had bene betrayed so,
With armed men his lodging was beset,
He naked tane, as is a byrd in net.
39
With as great crueltie as could be showne,His princely armes were piniond fast behind him,
And to a dungeon deepe he straight was throwne,
And that vile place, to bide in was assignd him,
Vntill the sentence of his death were knowne:
In fine Anselmus (so did passion blind him)
(Her likely tale, his wrath so rashly leading)
Condemned him, and neuer heard him pleading.
40
Thus was this worthy Prince without all cause,Condemnd to die (such is the wofull being,
Where hests of lawlesse lords, must stand for laws,
Though from all lawes and reason disagreeing)
Now neare and neare his execution drawes,
And gazing people, greedie still of seeing,
In clusters march and follow all confused,
On horse, on foot, as at such time is vsed.
41
But loe how God that euer doth defend,Those innocents that put in him their trust,
A helpe vnlooked for did thither send,
And freed him from this doome of death vniust:
Orlando did eu'n then the hill ascend,
Orlando is the man that saue him must,
And at that time there did with him remaine,
The daughter of Galego, king of Spaine.
42
This was that Isabell, whom he of late,Recouerd from the outlawes in the caue;
And hauing brought her out of that ill state,
Yet still he promist care of her to haue,
And whatsoeuer danger or debate,
To him befell, yet her he still did saue:
Orlando all that great assemblie saw,
That did the knight to execution draw.
43
He thither went and askt of him the cause,Why he was drawne vnto a death so cruell,
Forsooth (Zerbino said) against all lawes,
I am condemn'd if you the matter knew well,
Anselmus rage, that will admit no pause,
Vnto this flame, doth kindle all the fewell:
Beleeuing falsely that I slue his sonne,
Whereas by me (God knowes) it was not done.
44
Thus Zerbin said, and said it in such sort,As made Orlando vow him to releeue,
For verie apt he was, each ill report,
Of any of Maganza to beleeue;
Each house still thought to cut the other short,
Each house still sought the other how to greeue:
Each house long time, had tane a pride and pleasure,
To worke the tother danger and displeasure.
45
Vnloose the knight ye caitiues (straight he cride)Else looke for death to be your due reward:
What man is this (quoth one) that gapes so wide?
And speakes so foolishly without regard?
Were he of steele, of strength and temper tride,
And we of straw, his sute might hap be hard.
This said, he taketh vp a mighty launce,
And runnes against the Palladine of Fraunce.
46
Orlando ran at him with couched speare,And though his armour were both good and sure,
As namely that Zerbino erst did weare,
Yet was the stroke too grieuous to endure,
For though the beauer did it stifly beare,
Yet did the blow a greater hurt procure:
For on the cheeke, it gaue him such a checke,
That though it pierced not, it brake his necke.
47
Nor at that course did all his furie cease,Six other of that speare the force then felt,
Then with his sword among the thickest prease,
Such store of thrusts, and deadly blowes he delt,
That many in the place did straight decease;
And eu'n as snow against the Sunne doth melt,
So melted they and fainted in his sight,
That in an houre he put them all to flight.
48
When they were fled, he set Zerbino free,Who would haue kist the ground whereon he trod,
And done him reuerence humbly on his knee,
But that the Earle such courtsie him forbod:
But yet he thankt him in the high'st degree,
As one he honourd most, excepting God:
Then did he put his armor on againe,
Which late was worne by him that there was slaine.
49
Now while Zerbino there a little staid,Preparing with Orlando to go hence,
Behold faire Isabell, that princely maid,
That all the while had staid a little thence,
And sees no farther cause to be affraid,
Came neare, & brought great ioy and great offence
By diuers passions bred of one desire,
Some cold as ice, and some as hot as fire.
181
50
For where before Zerbino thought her drownd,Now certaine he reioyced very much,
To see her in his presence safe and sound,
And that her misaduenture was not such:
But weying in whose hand he had her found,
A iealous feare forthwith his heart doth tuch,
And inwardly a greater anguish bred,
Then late it had, to heare that she was ded.
51
To see her in the hands of such a knight,It greatly did him anger and displease,
From whom to offer, her to take by might,
It were no honestie nor haply ease,
But for Orlandos sake he ought of right,
All passions, both of loue and wrath appease;
To whom in thankfulnesse it were but meete,
To lay his hands vnder Orlandos feete.
52
Wherefore he makes no words, but on he gothIn silent sort, till comming to a well
To drinke they lighted, being thirstie both,
And each his drought with water doth expell,
But when the damsell saw and knew for troth,
That was Zerbino whom she lou'd so well,
(For when to drinke his beuer he vntide)
Straight she her loue had through his beuer spide.
53
With open armes she runs him to embrace,And hangs about his necke a pleasant yoke,
And speechlesse she remaind a pretie space,
And with her cristall teares (before she spoke)
Surprisd with ioy, she all bedewd his face,
And long it was ere into speech she broke,
By which the noble Earle did plainly lee,
That this could no man but Zerbino be.
54
Now when she had againe her vitall sprites,And that she able was her mind to show,
First she Orlandos great desarts recites,
That rescude her from place of shame and wo,
Commending him aboue all other knights,
That vndefiled had preserud her so,
And prayd her deare, when she had made recitall
Of his good deeds, to make him some requitall.
55
Great thanks were giu'n, and profers great there wereOf recompence and seruice on each side,
But lo a hap that made them speech forbeare,
For why an armed knight they had espide:
Twas Mandricardo that arriued there,
Who as you heard, these many dayes did ride
To seeke this Earle, till meeting by the way
Faire Doralice, a while it made him stay.
56
You heard how Mandricard sought out the tracke,(Mou'd thereunto by enuie and disdaine)
Of this fierce knight, appareld all in blacke,
By whom the king of Tremysen was slaine,
And those Noritians all, so put to wracke,
As few of them vnwounded did remaine,
And now he found him as it came to passe,
Yet knew he not that this Orlando was.
57
But marking well the signes and tokens like,To those he heard, of such as thence were fled,
You are (quoth he) the selfe same man I seeke,
By whom so many of my friends are ded:
I haue (he said) traueld aboue a weeke
To find you out, and now at last am sped,
You are the man that I haue sought (I guesse)
And sure your manly looke doth shew no lesse.
58
Sir (quoth Orlando) though I want your name,A noble knight you are it may be guest,
For sure a heart so thirsting after fame,
Is seldome bred in base vnnoble brest:
But if to see me onely now you came,
I straight herein will graunt you your request:
And that you may behold me to your fill,
I will put off mine armour if you will.
59
But when you well haue viewd me all about,If yet you haue a farther mind to trie,
Which of vs two can proue himselfe most stout,
And first in field can make the tother flie:
Attempt it when you list, and make no doubt,
But hereunto right soone agree shall I:
That (quoth the pagan) is my mind indeed,
And thus to fight together they agreed.
60
But when Orlando viewd the Pagan king,And saw no pollax at his saddle bow,
No sword by side, no bow, nor dart, nor sling,
But eu'n a speare, he needs of him would know,
When that were burst, vnto what other thing
He then would trust, to giue or beare a blow:
Tush (quoth the pagan prince) you need not feare,
But I will match you onely with the speare.
61
I haue (quoth he) an oath most solemne sworne,Since first the noble Hectors armes I wan,
That by my side should neuer sword be worne,
Nor other iron weapon, till I can
Get Durindana by Orlando borne,
Though how he gate it, well I cannot scan,
But since he gate it, great reports do flie,
That noble deeds of armes he doth thereby.
62
No lesse (quoth he) I faine on him would wreakeMy fathers death, whom falsly he betraid,
For well I wot my sire was not so weake,
With any Christen to be ouerlaid:
At this Orlando could not chuse but speake,
It is a lie (quoth he) that thou hast said,
I am Orlando, and I will not beare it,
This sword is Durindan, win it and weare it.
63
And though this sword is iustly wholly mine,Yet for this time I frankly do agree,
A while it shall be neither mine nor thine,
And if in combat you can vanquish me,
Then tak't, and thereat I shall not repine:
This said, he hangd the sword vpon a tree,
Indiffrently betweene them both to stand,
Vntill the strife by combat might be scand.
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64
Now one at th'other ran with couched speare,And on the head-peece each the other strake,
The staues in sundry peeces rend and teare,
But by the blowes the men small hurt do take:
And now the trunchens onely left them were,
And at foure blowes the trunchens likewise brake,
Thus when they saw all other weapons mist,
At last they were inforst to fight with fist.
65
So haue I seene two clownes fall at debate,About some watercourse or marke of land,
And either clap the tother on the pate,
With crabtree staffe, or with as crabbed hand;
Such of this conflict was the present state,
And each of them doth to his tackle stand,
And being tyr'd with giuing frutelesse stripes,
At last they flatly fell to handie gripes.
66
The Pagan, part by sleight and part by force,Thought to haue done as Hercles in time past,
To fierce Antheus did, and th'Earle inforce,
To yeeld himselfe, or leaue his horse at last.
Orlando that could surely sit his horse,
With all his strength bestrides the saddle fast,
Yet did the Pagan heaue him with such strength,
That all his gyrses broken were at length.
67
Downe came the Earle, yet kept his saddle still,Nor what had happend was he well aware,
But as he fell, intending by his will,
Vnto the Pagan king to worke some care,
He meant (but his attempt succeeded ill)
To ouerthrow the horse the Pagan bare,
But missing hold, the horse vnhurt remaines,
Yet off he puld his headstall and his raines.
68
The horse that had at libertie his head,Runs ouer ditch and valley, hedge and wood,
As partly feare, and partly courage led,
For nothing was that his mad course withstood:
But Mandricard still beates him on his head,
And eu'n as if he speech had vnderstood,
He threatens him (except he stay) to beate him,
And with faire speech somtime he doth intreat him.
69
But all was one, three mile outright he rode,Ere he could make the harebraine horse to stay,
Or cause him once to make a small abode,
But more and more he gallops still away:
At last with hast the horse and eke the lode
Fell downe into a ditch, and there they lay,
Both horse and man all foyld and rayd with durt,
Yet neither horse nor man had any hurt.
70
This while Dame Doralice that saw her guideThus post away against his will amaine,
She thought it were not safe behind to bide,
And therfore followd him though with great paine,
And seeing that he could no farther ride,
Because his wilfull horse did want a raine,
She prayes him take her horses raine and bit,
For mine (quoth she) will go though wanting it.
71
Much did the Pagan praise her gentle offer,Yet did refuse it as a part too base,
To let her want and take her bridle of her,
He thought it were to him a great disgrace.
But lo good chance a better meane did profer,
Gabrina came vnwares vnto the place,
She that betraid of late the Scottish Prince,
And heard (of like) of his deliuery since.
72
And therefore fearing punishment and blame,And clogd with guiltie conscience, fled the light,
Vntill by hap vnwares she thither came,
And on this couple fortuned to light:
They could not chuse but make great sport & game,
To see so strange and vnagreeing sight,
As such a witherd old ilfauord hag,
To ride in purple on an ambling nag.
73
He that of right or wrong did little passe,Meanes with her store his lacke there to supply,
Nor once demaunded who or what she was,
But takes away her bridle by and by:
She skreecheth out, and weepes, and cries alas,
Eu'n ready fearing hurt, vnhurt to die:
Hereafter I shall tell you what became on her,
Now for a farewell I do wish a shame on her.
74
This while Orlando had his girses mended,And new prouided what before did lacke,
And mounting on his horse, a while attended
To see if so the Pagan would come backe;
But seeing that he came not, he intended
To follow him, and find him by the tracke:
But first (as one that well good manners knew)
He bad Zerbino and his spouse adew.
75
Faine would Zerbino with this Earle haue gone,And take such part of eu'ry hap as he,
But that the noble Earle hereof would none,
And said there could not more dishonor be,
Then for a knight to shun to fight alone;
Wherefore he would not thereunto agree:
Thus Zerbin loth doth from this Earle depart,
Poore Isbell shedding teares for tender hart.
76
But ere they went, this Earle Zerbino praid,If first he hapt on Mandricard to light,
To tell him how long time for him he staid,
And meant to seeke him out againe to fight,
Now that his comming was so long delaid,
He meant to Paris ward to go that night,
To Charls his camp, where if he wold enquire of him
At any time he should be sure to heare of him.
77
Thus much he praid, and thence away he went,To seeke out Mandricard, but found him not,
And (for the day now more then halfe was spent,
The Sunne and season waxing somewhat hot)
A shadie groue he found, and there he ment
To take some ease, but found small ease God wot:
He thinks his thirst and heate a while to swage,
But found that set him in worse heate and rage.
183
78
For looking all about the groue, beholdIn sundry places faire ingrau'n he sees,
Her name whose loue he more esteemes then gold;
By her owne hand in barkes of diuers trees,
This was the place wherein before I told,
Medoro vsd to pay his surgeons fees,
Where she, to bost of that that was her shame,
Vsd oft to write hers and Medoros name.
79
And then with true loue knots and pretie poses,(To shew how she to him by loue was knit)
Her inward thoughts by outward words discloses,
In her much loue to shew her little wit.
Orlando knew the hand, and yet supposes
It was not she that had such posies writ;
And to beguile himselfe, tush, tush (quoth he)
There may be more Angelicas then she.
80
Yea, but I know too well that pretie hand,Oft hath she sent me letters of her writing:
Then he bethinks how she might vnderstand
His name and loue by that same new inditing,
And how it might be done long time he scand,
With this fond thought so fondly him delighting.
Thus with small hope, much feare, all malcontent,
In these and such conceits the time he spent.
81
And ay the more he seekes out of his thoughtTo driue this fancie, still it doth increase,
Eu'n as a bird that is with birdlime caught,
Doth beate her wings, and striues, and doth not cease
Vntill she hath her selfe all ouerwrought,
And quite intangled in the slimie grease:
Thus on went he, till him the way did bring
Vnto a shadie caue and pleasant spring.
82
This was a place, wherein aboue the rest,This louing paire, leauing their homely host,
Spent time in sports that may not be exprest,
Here in the parching heate they tarrid most,
And here Medore (that thought himselfe most blest)
Wrote certaine verses as in way of bost:
Which in his language doubtlesse sounded prittie,
And thus I turne them to an English dittie.
83
Ye pleasant plants, greene herbs, and waters faire,And caue with smell, and gratefull shadow mixt,
Where sweet Angelica, daughter and heire
Of Galafronne, on whom in vaine were fixt
Full many hearts, with me did oft repaire
Alone, and naked lay mine armes betwixt;
I poore Medore, can yeeld but praise and thanks,
For these great pleasures found amid your banks.
84
And pray each Lord whom Cupid holds in pray,Each knight, each dame, aud eu'ry one beside,
Or gentle or meane sort that passe this way,
As fancie or his fortune shall him guide,
That to the plants, herbs, spring, and caue he say,
Long may the Sun and Moon maintaine your pride,
And ye faire crew of Nymphs make such purueyance,
As hither come no heards to your annoyance.
85
It written was there in th'Arabian toong,Which toong Orlando perfect vnderstood,
As hauing learnt it when he was but yoong,
And oft the skill thereof had done him good,
But at this time it him so deeply stoong,
It had bin well that he it neuer coud,
And yet we see, to know men still are glad,
And yet we see much knowledge makes men mad.
86
Twise, thrise, yea fiue times he doth reade the rime,And though he saw and knew the meaning plaine,
Yet, that his loue was guiltie of such crime,
He will not let it sinke into his braine,
Oft he perused it, and eu'ry time
It doth increase his sharp tormenting paine,
And ay the more he on the matter mused,
The more his wits and senses were confused.
87
Eu'n then was he of wit welnigh bestraught,So quite he was giu'n ouer vnto griefe,
(And sure if we beleeue as proofe hath taught,
This torture is of all the rest the chiefe)
His sprite was dead, his courage quaild with thought,
He doth despaire and looke for no reliefe;
And sorrow did his senses so surprise,
That words his toong, and teares forsooke his eyes.
88
The raging pang remained still within,That would haue burst out all at once too fast:
Eu'n so we see the water tarry in
A bottle little mouthd, and big in wast,
That though you topsie turny turne the brim,
The liquor bides behind with too much hast,
And with the striuing oft is in such taking,
As scant a man can get it out with shaking.
89
At last he comes vnto himselfe anew,And in his mind another way doth frame,
That that which there was written was not trew;
But writ of spite his Ladie to defame,
Or to that end, that he the same might vew,
And so his heart with iealousie inflame:
Well be't who list (quoth he) I see this clearly,
He hath her hand resembled passing nearly.
90
With this small hope, with this poore little sparke,He doth some deale reuiue his troubled sprite,
And for it was now late, and waxed darke,
He seekes some place where he may lie that night,
At last he heares a noise of dogs that barke,
He smels some smoke, and sees some candle light,
He takes his Inne, with will to sleepe, not eate,
As fild with griefe, and with none other meate.
91
But lo his hap was at that house to host,Where faire Angelica had layne before,
And where her name on eu'ry doore and post,
With true loue knots was ioyned to Medore,
That knot his name whom he detested most,
Was in his eye and thought still euermore:
He dares not aske, nor once the matter tuch,
For knowing more of that he knowes too much.
184
92
But vaine it was himselfe so to beguile,For why his host vnasked by and by,
That saw his guest sit there so sad the while,
And thinks to put him from his dumps thereby,
Beginneth plaine without all fraud or guile,
Without concealing truth or adding lie,
To tell that tale to him without regard,
Which diuers had before with pleasure heard.
93
As thus, how at Angelicas requestHe holpe vnto his house to bring Medore,
Who then was sorely wounded in his brest,
And she with surgery did heale his sore:
But while with her owne hands the wound she drest,
Blind Cupid wounded her as much or more,
That when her skill and herbs had cur'd her patient,
Her curelesse wound in loue made her vnpatient.
94
So that, admit she were the greatest QueeneOf fame, and liuing in those Easter parts,
Yet so with fancie she was ouerseene,
To marry with a page of meane desarts;
Thus loue (quoth he) will haue his godhead seene,
In famous Queens, and highest Princes harts:
This said (to end the tale) he shewd the iewell
That she had giu'n him, which Orlando knew well.
95
This tale, and chiefly this same last conclusion,Was eu'n a hatchet to cut of all hope,
When loue had after many a vaine collusion,
Now for his farewell lent him such a rope
To hang himselfe, and drowne him in confusion,
Yet faine he would denie his sorrow scope,
And though a while to shew it he forbeares,
It breaketh out at last in sighs and teares.
96
And as it were inforst he giues the raineTo raging griefe, vpon his bed alone,
His eyes do shed a very showre of raine,
With many a scalding sigh and bitter grone,
He slept as much as if he had then laine
Vpon a bed of thornes, and stuft with stone.
And as he lay thereon and could not rest him,
The bed it selfe gaue matter to molest him.
97
Ah wretch I am (thus to himselfe he sed)Shall I once hope to take repose and rest me
In that same house? yea eu'n in that same bed
Where my vngratefull loue so leudly drest me?
Nay, let me first an hundred times be ded,
First wolues deuoure and vultures shall digest me.
Straight vp he starts, and on he puts his clothes,
And leaues the house, so much the bed he lothes.
98
He leaues his host, nor once doth take his leaue,He far'd so ill, he bids them not farewell,
He leaues the towne, his seruants he doth leaue,
He rides, but where he rides he cannot tell.
And when alone himselfe he doth perceaue
To weepe and waile, nay eu'n to houle and yell,
He doth not cease to giue his griefe a vent,
That inwardly so sore did him torment.
99
The day the night to him were both aleeke,Abroade vpon the cold bare earth he lies,
No sleepe, no food he takes, nor none would seeke,
All sustenance he to himselfe denies.
Thus he began, and ended halfe the weeke,
And he himselfe doth maruell, whence his eyes
Are fed so long with such a spring of water,
And to himselfe thus reasons on the matter.
100
No, no, these be no teares that now I shed,These be no teares, nor can teares run so rife,
But fire of frenzie drawth vp to my head,
My vitall humor that should keepe my life;
This streame will neuer cease till I be dead,
Then welcome death, and end my fatall strife:
No comfort in this life my wo can minish,
But thou who canst both life and sorrow finish.
101
These are not sighs, for sighs some respite haue,My gripes, my pangs, no respite do permit,
The blindfold boy made me a seeing slaue,
When from her eyes my heart he first did hit.
Now all inflam'd, I burne, I rage and raue,
And in the midst of flame consume no whit:
Loue sitting in my heart a master crewell,
Blowes with his wings, feeds with his will the fewel.
102
I am not I, the man that earst I was,Orlando, he is buried and dead,
His most vngratefull loue (ah foolish lasse)
Hath kild Orlando, and cut off his head:
I am his ghost, that vp and downe must passe,
In this tormenting hell for euer led,
To be a fearfull sample and a iust,
To all such fooles as put in loue their trust.
103
Thus wandring still in wayes that haue no way,He hapt againe to light vpon the caue,
Where (in remembrance of their pleasant play)
Medoro did that epigram ingraue.
To see the stones againe, his woes display,
And her ill name, and his ill hap depraue,
Did on the sudden all his sence inrage,
With hate, with fury, with reuenge and rage.
104
Straightways he draweth forth his fatall blade,And hewes the stones, to heau'n the shiuers flee,
Accursed was that fountaine, caue and shade,
The arbor and the flowres and eu'ry tree:
Orlando of all places hauocke made,
Where he those names together ioynd may see,
Yea to the spring he did perpetuall hurt,
By filling it with leaues, boughs, stones and durt.
105
And hauing done this foolish franticke feate,He layes him downe all weary on the ground,
Distemperd in his bodie with much heate,
In mind with paines that no tongue can expound,
Three dayes he doth not sleepe, nor drinke, nor eate,
But lay with open eyes as in a sound.
The fourth with rage, and not with reason waked,
He rents his clothes, and runs about starke naked.
185
106
His helmet here he flings, his poulderns theare;He casts away his curats and his shield:
His sword he throws away, he cares not wheare,
He scatters all his armor in the field:
No ragge about his bodie he doth beare,
As might frō cold or might from shame him shield,
And saue he left behind this fatall blade,
No doubt he had therwith great hauocke made.
107
But his surpassing force did so exceed,All common men, that neither sword nor bill,
Nor any other weapon he did need,
Meere strength suffisd him to do what he will,
He rootes vp trees as one would root a weed:
And eu'n as birders laying nets with skill,
Pare slender thornes away with easie strokes,
So he did play with ashes, elmes and okes.
108
The heardmen and the shepheards that did heare,The hideous noise and vnacquainted sound,
With feare and wonder great approched neare,
To see, and know, what was hereof the ground.
But now I must cut off this treatise heare,
Lest this my booke do grow beyond his bound;
And if you take some pleasure in this text,
I will go forward with it in the next.
Here end the first xxiij. bookes of Ariosto.
| Orlando Fvrioso | |