“Behold Orlando!” Him awhile they eyed,
Straining their eyes and lids; then knew the peer;
And, seeing him in such a piteous plight,
Were filled with grief and wonder at the sight.
So grieve and so lament the greater part
Of those good warriors, that their eyes o’erflow.
“ ’Tis time” (Astolpho cried) “to find some art
To heal him, not indulge in useless woe;”
And from his courser sprang: bold Brandimart,
Olivier, Sansonet and Dudon so
All leap to ground, and all together make
At Roland, whom the warriors fain would take.
Seeing the circle round about him grow,
Levels his club that furious paladin,
And makes fierce Dudon feel (who—couched below
His buckler—on the madman would break in)
How grievous is that staff’s descending blow;
And but that Olivier, Orlando’s kin,
Broke in some sort its force, that stake accurst
Had shield and helmet, head and body burst.
It only burst the shield, and in such thunder
Broke on the casque, that Dudon prest the shore:
With that, Sir Sansonet cut clean asunder
The sapling, shorn of two cloth-yards and more,
So vigorous was that warrior’s stroke, while under
His bosom, Brandimart girt Roland sore
With sinewy arms about his body flung;
And to the champion’s legs Astolpho clung.
Orlando shook himself, and England’s knight,
Ten paces off, reversed upon the ground;
Yet loosed not Brandimart, who with more might
And better hold had clasped the madman round.
To Olivier, too forward in that fight,
He dealt so furious and so fell a wound,
With his clenched fist, that pale the marquis fell;
And purple streams from eyes and nostrils well;
And save his morion had been more than good,
Bold Olivier had breathed his last, who lies,
So battered with his fall, it seemed he wou’d
Bequeath his parting soul to paradise.
Astolpho and Dudon, that again upstood
(Albeit swoln were Dudon’s face and eyes)
And Sansonet, who plied so well his sword,
All made together at Anglantes’ lord.
Dudon Orlando from behind embraced,
And with his foot the furious peer would throw:
Astolpho and others seize his arms; but waste
Their strength in all attempts to hold the foe.
He who has seen a bull, by mastiffs chased
That gore his bleeding ears, in fury lowe,
Dragging the dogs that bait him there and here,
Yet from their tusks unable to get clear;
Let him imagine, so Orlando drew
Astolpho and those banded knights along.
Meanwhile upstarted Oliviero, who
By that fell fistycuff on earth was flung;
And, seeing they could ill by Roland do
That sought by good Astolpho and his throng,
He meditates, and compasses, a way
The frantic paladin on earth to lay.
He many a hawser made them thither bring,
And running knots in them he quickly tied;
Which on the count’s waist, arms, and legs, they fling;
And then, among themselves, the ends divide,
Conveyed to this or that amid the ring,
Compassing Roland upon every side.
The warriors thus Orlando flung parforce,
As farrier throws the struggling ox or horse.
As soon as down, they all upon him are,
And hands and feet more tightly they constrain:
He shakes himself, and plunges here and there;
But all his efforts for relief are vain.
Astolpho bade them hence the prisoner bear;
“For he would heal (he said) the warrior’s brain.”
Shouldered by sturdy Dudon is the load,
And on the beach’s furthest brink bestowed.
Seven times Astolpho makes them wash the knight;
And seven times plunged beneath the brine he goes.
So that they cleanse away the scurf and blight,
Which to his stupid limbs and visage grows.
This done, with herbs, for that occasion dight,
They stop his mouth, wherewith he puffs and blows,
For, save his nostrils, would Astolpho leave
No passage whence the count might air receive.
Valiant Astolpho had prepared the vase,
Wherein Orlando’s senses were contained,
And to his nostrils in such mode conveys,
That, drawing-in his breath, the county drained
The mystic cup withal. Oh wondrous case!
The unsettled mind its ancient seat regained;
And, in its glorious reasonings, yet more clear
And lucid waxed his wisdom than whilere.
As one, that seems in troubled sleep to see
Abominable shapes, a horrid crew;
Monsters which are not, and which cannot be;
Or seems some strange, unlawful thing to do,
Yet marvels at himself, from slumber free.
When his recovered senses play him true;
So good Orlando, when he is made sound,
Remains yet full of wonder, and astound.
Aldabelle’s brother,469 Monodantes’ son,470
And him that on his brain such cure had wrought,
He wondering marked, but word he spake to none;
And when and how he was brought thither, thought.
He turned his restless eyes now up now down,
Nor where he was withal, imagined aught,
Marvelling why he there was naked cast,
And wherefore tethered, neck and heels, so fast.
Then said, as erst Silenus said—when seen,
And taken sleeping the cave of yore—
Solvite Me,471 with visage so serene,
With look so much less wayward than before,
That him they from his bonds delivered clean,
And raiment to the naked warrior bore;
All comforting their friend, with grief opprest
For that delusion which had him possest.
When to his former self he was recovered,
Of wiser and of manlier mind than e’er,
From love as well was freed the enamoured lord;
And she, so gentle deemed, so fair whilere,
And by renowned Orlando so adored,
Did but to him a worthless thing appear.
What he through love had lost, to reacquire
Was his whole study, was his whole desire.
Meanwhile Bardino told to Brandimart,
“How Monodantes, his good sire, was dead,
And, on his brother, Gigliantes’ part,
To call him to his kingdom had he sped,
As well as from those isles, which most apart
From other lands, in eastern seas are spread,
That prince’s fair inheritance; than which
Was none more pleasant, populous, or rich.”
He said, mid many reasons which he prest,
“That home was sweet, and—were the
