She cannot compass what she covets most,
—Marphisa with avenging steel to slay—
Now here, not there, amid the medley flies,
Hoping to see the youth for whom she sighs.
By the eagle argent on the shield of blue
She recognized Rogero, mid the rest.
With eyes and thought intent, she stops to view
The warrior’s manly shoulders and his breast,
Fair face and movements full of graceful shew;
And then the maid, with mickle spite possest,
Thinking another joys the stripling’s love,
Thus speaks, as sovereign rage and fury move.
“Shall then another kiss those lips so bright
And sweet, if those fair lips are lost to me?
Ah! never other shall in thee delight;
For it not mine, no other’s shalt thou be.
Rather than die alone and of despite,
I with this hand will slay myself and thee,
That if I lose thee here, at least in hell
With thee I to eternity may dwell.
“If thou slay’st me, there is good reason, I
The comfort too of vengeance should obtain;
In that all edicts and all equity
The death of him that causes death ordain;
Nor, since you justly, I unjustly, die,
Deem I that thine is equal to my pain.
I him who seeks my life, alas! shall spill,
Thou her that loves and worships thee wouldst kill.
“My hand, why hast thou not the hardiment
To rive with steel the bosom of my foe,
That me so many times to death has shent,
Under the faith of love, in peaceful show;
Him, who to take my life can now consent,
Nor even have pity of my cruel woe?
Dare, valiant heart, this impious man to slay,
And let his death my thousand deaths appay!”
So said, she spurred at him amid the throng;
But, first—“Defend thee, false Rogero!”—cried.
“No more, if I have power, in spoil and wrong,
Done to a virgin heart, shalt thou take pride.”
Hearing that voice the hostile ranks among,
He deems—and truly deems—he hears his bride;
Whose voice the youth remembers in such wise,
That mid a thousand would he recognize.
Her further meaning well did he divine,
Weening that him she in that speech would blame,
For having broke their pact; and—with design,
The occasion of his failure to proclaim—
Of his desire for parley made a sign:
But she, with vizor closed, already came,
Raging and grieved, intent, with vengeful hand,
To fling the youth; nor haply upon sand.
Rogero, when he saw her so offended,
Fixed himself firmly in his arms and seat,
He rests his lance, but holds the stave suspended,
So that it shall not harm her when they meet,
She that to smite and pierce the Child intended,
Pitiless, and inflamed with furious heat,
Has not the courage, when she sees him near,
To fling, or do him outrage with the spear.
Void of effect, ’tis thus their lances go;
And it is well; since Love with burning dart,
Tilting this while at one and the other foe,
Has lanced the enamoured warriors in mid-heart.
Unable at the Child to aim her blow,
The lady spent her rage in other part,
And mighty deeds achieved, which fame will earn,
While overhead the circling heavens shall turn.
Above three hundred men in that affray
In little space by her dismounted lie,
Alone that warlike damsel wins the day;
From her alone the Moorish people fly.
To her Rogero, circling, threads his way,
And says; “Unless I speak with you I die.
Hear me, for love of heaven!—what done I done,
Alas! that ever mine approach ye shun?”
As when soft southern breezes are unpent,
Which with a tepid breath from seaward blow,
The snows dissolve, and torrents find a vent,
And ice, so hard erewhile, is seen to flow;
At those entreaties, at that brief lament,
Rinaldo’s sister’s heart is softened so;
Forthwith compassionate and pious grown;
Which anger fain had made more hard than stone.
Would she not, could she not, she nought replied,
But spurred aslant the ready Rabicane,
And, signing to Rogero, rode as wide
As she could wend from that embattled train;
Then to a sheltered valley turned aside,
Wherein embosomed was a little plain.
In the mid lawn a wood of cypress grew,
Whose saplings of one stamp appeared to view.
Within that thicket, of white marble wrought,
Is a proud monument, and newly made;
And he that makes enquiry, here is taught
In few brief verses who therein is laid.
But of those lines, methinks, took little thought,
Fair Bradamant, arriving in that glade.
Rogero spurred his courser, and pursued
And overtook that damsel in the wood.
But turn we to Marphisa, that anew
During this space was seated on her steed,
And sought again the valiant champion, who
At the first onset cast her on the mead;
And saw, how from the mingling host withdrew
Rogero, after that strange knight to speed;
Nor deemed the youth pursued in love; she thought
He but to end their strife and quarrel sought.
She pricks her horse behind the two, and gains,
Well nigh as soon as they, that valley; how
Her coming thither either lover pains,
Who lives and loves, untaught by me, may know:
But sorest vext sad Bradamant remains;
Beholding her whence all her sorrows flow.
Who shall persuade the damsel but that love
For young Rogero brings her to that grove?
And him perfidious she anew did name.
—“Perfidious, was it not enough (she said)
That I should know thy perfidy from fame,
But must the witness of thy guilt be made?
I wot, to drive me from thee is thine aim;
And I, that thy desires may be appaid,
Will die; but strive, in yielding up my breath,
She too shall die, the occasion of my death.”
Angrier than venomed viper, with a bound,
So saying, she upon Marphisa flies;
And plants so well the spear, that she, astound,
Fell backward on the champaigne in such guise,
Nigh half her helm was buried in the ground:
Nor
