Rogero pledges first his knightly word,
“Should his king mar, or send to mar, the fray,
He him no more as leader or as lord
Will serve, but wholly Charlemagne obey.”
—Rinaldo—“if in breach of their accord,
Him from the field King Charles would bear away,
Till one or the other is subdued in fight,
That he will be the Moorish monarch’s knight.”
When ended are the ceremonies, here
And there, to seek their camps the two divide.
Nor long, therein delayed; when trumpets clear
The time for their encounter signified:
Now to the charge advanced each cavalier,
Measuring with cautious care his every stride.
Lo! the assault begins; now low, now high,
That pair the sounding steel in circles ply.
Now with the axe’s blade, now with its heel464
Their strokes they at the head or foot address;
And these so skilfully and nimbly deal,
As needs must shock all credence to express.
The Child, that at her brother aims the steel,
Who doth his miserable soul possess,
Evermore with such caution strikes his blow,
That he is deemed less vigorous than his foe.
Rather to parry then to smite intent,
He know not what to wish; that low should lie
Rinaldo, would Rogero ill content,
Nor willingly the Child by him would die,
But here I am at my full line’s extent,
Where I must needs defer my history.
In other canto shall the rest appear,
If you that other canto please to hear.
Canto XXXIX
Agramant breaks the pact, is overthrown,
And forced fair France for Afric to forego.
Meanwhile Astolpho in Biserta’s town
Having with numerous host besieged the foe,
By hazard there arrives bold Milo’s son,
To whom the duke, instructed how to do,
Restores his wits. At sea does Dudon meet
King Agramant, and sore annoys his fleet.
Than that fell woe which on Rogero weighs,
Harder and bitterer pain forsooth is none,
Which upon flesh and more on spirit preys:
For of two deaths there is no scaping one.
Him, if in strife o’erlaid, Rinaldo slays,
Bradamant, if Rinaldo is outdone:
For if he killed her brother, well he knew
Her hate, than death more hateful, would ensue.
Rinaldo, unimpeded by such thought,
Strove in all ways Rogero to o’erthrow;
Fierce and despiteous whirled his axe, and sought
Now in the arms, now head, to wound the foe.
Rogero circled here and there, and caught
Upon his weapon’s shaft the coming blow;
And, if ever smote, aye strove to smite
Where he should injure least Montalban’s knight.
To most of them that led the paynim bands,
But too unequal seemed the fierce assay.
Too slowly young Rogero plied his hands;
Too well Rinaldo kept the Child at bay.
With troubled face the king of Afric stands:
He sighed, and breathless gazed upon the fray;
And all the blame of that ill counsel flung
On King Sobrino’s head, from whom it sprung.
Meanwhile the weird Melissa, she—the font
Of all that wizards or enchanters know—
Had by her art transformed her female front,
And taken Argier’s mighty shape; in show
And gesture she appeared as Rodomont,
And seemed, like him, in dragon’s hide to go:
Such was her belted sword and such her shield;
Nor aught was wanting which he wore afield.
She towards Troyano’s mournful son did guide,
In form of courser, a familiar sprite,
And with a troubled visage loudly cried,
“My liege, this is too foul an oversight,
A stripling boy in peril yet untried,
Against a Gaul, so stout and famed in fight,
Your champion in so fierce a strife to make;
Where Afric’s realm and honour are at stake.
“Let not this battle be pursued, my lord,
In that ’twould cost our Moorish cause too dear.
Let sin of broken faith and forfeit word
Fall upon Rodomont! take thou no fear!
Let each now show the metal of his sword,
Each for a hundred stands when I am here.”
So upon Agramant this counsel wrought,
That king pressed forward without further thought.
He, thinking that the monarch of Algiers
Is with him, of the pact has little care;
And would not rate a thousand cavaliers
So high, if handed in his aid they were.
Hence steeds reined-in and spurred, hence levelled spears
Are seen in one short instant here and there.
Melissa, when the hosts are mixed in fight
By her false phantoms, vanishes from sight.
The champions two, that, against all accord,
Against all faith, disturbed their duel see,
No longer strive in fight, but pledge their word
—Yea, put aside all hostile injury—
That they, on neither part, will draw the sword,
Until they better certified shall be
Who broke the pact, established by that twain,
Young Agramant, or aged Charlemagne.
They sweat anew, “the king who had o’erthrown
That truce, and broken faith, as foe to treat.”
The field of combat is turned upside down;
Some hurry to the charge, and some retreat.
Who most deserved disgrace, who most renown,
Was seen, on both hands, in the selfsame feat;
All ran alike: but, ’mid that wild affray,
These ran to meet the foe, those ran away.
As greyhound in the slip, that the fleet hare
Scowering about and circling him discerns,
Nor with the other dogs a part can bear
(For him the hunter holds), with anger burns;
Torments himself and mourns in his despair,
And whines, and strives against the leash, by turns;
Such till that moment had the fury been
Of Aymon’s daughter and the martial queen.
They till that hour upon the spacious plain,
Had watched so rich a prize throughout the day;
And, as obliged by treaty to refrain
From laying hands upon the costly prey,
Had sore lamented and had grieved in vain,
Gazing with longing eyes on that array.
Now seeing truce and treaty broke, among
The Moorish squadrons they rejoicing sprung.
Marphisa piercing her first victim’s breast,
(Two yards beyond his back the lance did pass)
In briefer time than ’tis by me exprest,
