Thinking him slain who only lay amazed,
By pity prest, Zerbino leapt to ground,
And from his deathlike face the vizor raised;
And he, as wakened out of sleep profound,
In silence, hard upon Zerbino gazed;
Then cried, “It does not me, in truth, confound,
To think that I am overthrown by thee,
Who seem’st the flower of errant chivalry.
“But it with reason grieves me this is done
Upon account of a false woman’s spite;
Whose wicked cause I know not why you own,
An office ill according with your might:
And when to you the occasion shall be known
Which urges me her wickedness to quite,
Whene’er you think on it, you will repent
How she by you was saved, and I was shent.
“And if enough of breath, although I fear
The contrary, is left me to expound
Her evil actions, I shall make appear
She in all guilt transgresses every bound.
I had a brother once: the youthful peer
Set out from Holland’s isle, our natal ground,
To serve Heraclius, ’mid his knights arrayed,
Who then the Grecian empire’s sceptre swayed.
“Brother in arms and bosom-friend installed
Here was he by a baron of that court,
Who, in a pleasant site, and strongly walled,
On Servia’s distant frontier had a fort.
Argaeus he of whom I tell was called,
Husband of that ill hag, whom in such sort
He loved, as passed all mean, and misbecame
One of his worth and honourable fame.
“But she, more volatile than leaf, when breeze
Of autumn most its natural moisture dries,
And strips the fluttering foliage from the trees,
Which, blown about, before its fury flies,
Changes her humour, and her husband sees,
Whom she some time had loved, with other eyes,
And in her every wish and every thought
Schemes how my brother’s love may best be bought.
“But not Acroceraunus fronts the brine,
—Ill-famed—against whose base the billow heaves,
Nor against Boreas stands the mountain pine,
That has a hundred times renewed its leaves,
And towering high on Alp or Apennine,
With its fast root the rock as deeply cleaves,
So firmly as the youth resists the will
Of that foul woman, sink of every ill.
“Now, as it oft befalls a cavalier
Who seeks and finds adventure, high and low,
It happened that my gentle brother near
His comrade’s fort was wounded by a foe;
Where often, uninvited by the peer,
He guested, was his host with him or no;
And thither he resorted from the field,
There to repose until his wounds were healed.
“While there he wounded lay, upon some need
It chanced Argaeus was compelled to ride.
Quickly that wanton, from his presence freed
As was her use, my brother’s fealty tried.
But he, as one unstained in thought and deed,
So fell a goad no longer would abide;
And to preserve his faith, as lures increased,
Of many evils chose what seemed the least.
“To break communion with the cavalier,
To him—of many—seemed the lightest ill,
And go so far, that wanton should not hear
More of his name: this purpose to fulfil
Was honester (though quitting one so dear
Was hard) than to content her evil will,
Of her foul wishes to her lord impart,
Who cherished her as fondly as his heart.
“And though yet smarting with his wounds and pined,
He dons his arms, and from the tower departs;
And wanders thence with firm and constant mind,
Ne’er to return again into those parts.
But nought availed the purpose he designed;
His projects Fortune baffled with new arts.
This while, behold! the castellain returned,
And bathed in bitter tears the wife discerned.
“And with flushed face, and hair in disarray,
He asks of her what had disturbed her mood;
Who, ere she in reply a word will say,
Is vainly more than once to answer wooed;
And all the while is thinking in what way
The knight can best with vengeance be pursued.
And well it suited with her fickle vein,
Lightly to change her love into disdain.
“ ‘Ah! why should I conceal (in fine she cried)
The fault committed while you were away?
For though I it from all the world should hide,
This would my conscience to myself bewray.
The soul, which is with secret evil dyed,
Does with such penitence its fault appay,
As every corporal sufferance exceeds
That thou couldst deal me for my evil deeds;
“ ‘If evil be the deed, when done parforce.
But, be it what it may, the mischief know;
Then, with my sword from this polluted corse,
Delivered, let my spotless spirit go;
And quench these wretched eyes, which in remorse,
I, if I lived, on earth must ever throw,
As the least penance of so foul a blame,
And, look on whom they may, must blush for shame.
“ ‘My honour has been ruined by thy mate,
Who to this body violence has done,
And fearing lest I all to thee relate,
Without farewell the graceless churl is gone.’
She by this story made her husband hate
The youth, than whom before was dearer none.
Argaeus credits all, without delay
Arms him, and, breathing vengeance, posts away.
“In knowledge of that country not to seek,
He overtook the knight in little space;
For my poor brother, yet diseased and weak,
Rode, unsuspicious, at an easy pace;
Argaeus, eager his revenge to wreak,
Assailed him straight in a sequestered place.
My brother would excuse him if he might,
But his indignant host insists on fight.
“This one was sound and full of new disdain,
That weak and friendly, as aye wont to be:
My brother was ill fitted to sustain
His altered comrade’s new-born enmity.
Philander, then unmeriting such pain,
(So was the stripling named, described by me)
Not gifted with the power to undergo
Such fierce assault, was taken by the foe.
“ ‘Forbid it, Heaven! I should be led astray
So by just wrath and thy iniquity,
(To him Argaeus cried) as thee to slay,
Who loved thee once, and certes thou lovedst me,
Though in
