Leaps on his horse, nor—having seized his lance—
Forgets he is a paladin of France.
He called on every one to stand aside,
And with the galling spur his courser prest;
Meanwhile a hundred other foes have died,
And filled with hope was every prisoner’s breast;
And as Rogero holy Dudon spied479
Approach on horseback, (footmen were the rest,)
Esteeming him their head, he charged the knight,
Impelled by huge desire to prove his might.
Already, on his part, had moved the Dane;
But when he saw the Child without a spear,
He flang is own far from him, in disdain
To take such vantage of the cavalier.
Admiring at Sir Dudon’s courteous vein,
“Belie himself he cannot,” said the peer,
“And of those perfect warriors must be one
That as the paladins of France are known.
“If I my will can compass, he shall shew
His name, to me, ere further deed be done.”
He made demand; and in the stranger knew
Dudon, the Danish Ogier’s valiant son:
He from Rogero claimed an equal due,
And from the Child as courteous answer won.
—Their names on either side announced—the foes
A bold defiance speak, and come to blows.
Bold Dudon had with him that iron mace,
Which won him deathless fame in many a fight:
Wherewith he proved him fully of the race
Of that good Danish warrior, famed for might.
That best of faulchions, which through iron case
Of cuirass or of casque was wont to bite,
Youthful Rogero from the scabbard snatched,
And with the martial Dane his valour matched.
But for the gentle youth was ever willed
To offend his lady-love the least he could,
And knew he should offend her, if he spilled,
In that disastrous battle, Dudon’s blood
(Well in the lineage of French houses skilled
He wist of Beatrice’s sisterhood,
—Bradamant’s mother she—with Armelline,
The mother of the Danish paladine).
He therefore never thrust in that affray,
And rarely smote an edge480 on plate and chain.
Now warding off the mace, now giving way
Before the fall of that descending bane,
Turpin believes, it in Rogero lay
Sir Dudon in few sword-strokes to have slain.
Yet never when the Dane his guard foregoes,
Save on the faulchion’s flat descend the blows.
The flat as featly as the edge he plies,
Of that good faulchion forged of stubborn grain,
And, at strange blindman’s bluff, in weary wise,481
Hammers on Dudon with such might and main,
He often dazzles so the warrior’s eyes,
That hardly he his saddle can maintain.
But to win better audience for my rhyme,
My canto I defer to other time.
Canto XLI
His prisoners to the Child the Danish peer
Consigns, who, homeward bound, are wrecked at sea;
By swimming he escapes, and a sincere
And faithful servant now of Christ is he.
Meanwhile bold Brandimart, and Olivier,
And Roland fiercely charge the hostile three.
Sobrino is left wounded in the strife;
Gradasso and Agramant deprived of life.
The odour which well-fashioned bear or hair,
Of that which find and dainty raiment steeps
Of gentle stripling, or of damsel fair,
—Who often love awakens, as she weeps—
If it ooze forth and scent the ambient air,
And which for many a day its virtue keeps,
Well shows, by manifest effects and sure,
How perfect was its first perfume and pure.
The drink that to his cost good Icarus drew482
Of yore his sun-burned sicklemen to cheer,
And which (’tis said) lured Celts and Boi483 through
Our Alpine hills, untouched by toil whilere,
Well shows that cordial was the draught, when new;
Since it preserves its virtue through the year.
The tree to which its wintry foliage cleaves,
Well shows that verdant were its spring tide leaves.
The famous lineage, for so many years
Of courtesy the great and lasting light,
Which ever, brightening as it burns, appears
To shine and flame more clearly to the sight,
Well proves the sire of Este’s noble peers
Must, amid mortals, have shone forth as bright
In all fair gifts which raise men to the sky,
As the glad sun mid glittering orbs on high.
As in his every other feat exprest,
Rogero’s valiant mind and courteous lore
Were showed by tokens clear and manifest,
And his high-mindedness shone more and more;
—So toward the Dane those virtues stood confest,
With whom (as I rehearsed to you before)
He had belied his mighty strength and breath;
For pity loth to put that lord to death.
The Danish warrior was well certified,
No wish to slay him had the youthful knight,
Who spared him now, when open was his side;
Now, when so wearied he no more could smite.
When finally he knew, and plain descried
Rogero scrupled to put forth his might,
If with less vigour and less prowess steeled,
At least in courtesy he would not yield.
“Pardi, sir, make we peace;” (he said) “success
In this contention cannot fall to me—
Cannot be mine; for I myself confess
Conquered and captive to thy courtesy.”
To him Rogero answered, “and no less
I covet peace, than ’tis desired by thee.
But this upon condition, that those seven
Are freed from bondage, and to me are given.”
With that he showed those seven whereof I spake,
Bound and with drooping heads, a sad array;
Adding, “he must to him no hindrance make,
Who would those kings to Africa convey.”
And Dudon thus allowed the Child to take
Those seven, and him allowed to bear away
A bark as well; what likes him best he chooses
Amid those vessels, and for Afric looses.
He looses bark and sail; and in bold wise
Trusting the fickle wind, to seaward stood.
At first on her due course the vessel flies,
And fills the pilot full of hardihood.
The beach retreats, and from the sailors’ eyes
So fades, the sea appears a shoreless flood.
Upon the darkening of the
