He that approaches at the kinsmen’s side,
—So honoured by the best—I never knew;
But, if by certain tokens signified,
He is the man I so desire to view,
That Sannazàro,574 who persuades the nine
To leave their fountain for the foaming brine.
Diligent, faithful secretary, lo!
The learned Pistòphilus,575 mine Angiar here,
And the Acciajuòli their joint pleasure show
That for my bark there is no further fear.
There I my kinsman Malaguzzo know;
And mighty hope from Adoardo hear,
That these my nest-notes shall by friendly wind
Be blown from Calpe’s rock to furthest Ind.
Joys Victor Fausto; Tancred joys to view576
My sail; and with them joy a hundred more.
Women and men I see, a mingled crew,
At my return rejoicing, crowd the shore.
Then, since the wind blows fair, nor much to do
Remains, let me my course delay no more;
And turning to Melissa, in what way
She rescued good Rogero let me say.
Much bent was this Melissa (as I know
I many times have said to you whilere)
That Bradamant in wedlock should bestow
Her hand upon the youthful cavalier;
And so at heart had either’s weal and woe,
That she from hour to hour of them would hear:
Hence ever on that quest she spirits sent,
One still returning as the other went.
A prey to deep and stubborn grief, reclined
Mid gloomy shades Rogero they descried;
Firm not to swallow food of any kind,
Nor from that purpose to be turned aside;
And so to die of hunger he designed:
But weird Melissa speedy aid supplied;
Who took a road, from home forth issuing, where
She met the Grecian emperor’s youthful heir;
Leo that, one by one, dispatched his train
Of followers, far and wide, through every bourn,
And afterwards, in person went in vain,
To find the warrior of the unicorn.
The wise enchantress, that will sell and rein,
Had on that day equipt a demon, borne
By him, in likeness of a hackney horse,
Constantine’s son encountered in her course.
“If such as your ingenuous mien” (she cried
To Leo) “is your soul’s nobility,
And corresponding with your fair outside
Your inward goodness and your courtesy,
Some help, some comfort, sir, for one provide
In whom the best of living knights we see;
Who, save ye help and comfort quickly lend,
Is little distant from his latter end.
“The best of knights will die of all, who don,
Or e’er donned sword and buckler, the most fair
And gentle of all warriors that are gone,
Or who throughout the world yet living are,
And simply for a courteous deed, if none
Shall comfort to the youthful sufferer bear.
Then come, sir, for the love of Heaven, and try
If any counsel succour may supply.”
It suddenly came into Leo’s mind
The knight of whom she parlayed was that same,
Whom throughout all the land he sought to find,
And seeking whom, he now in person came.
So that obeying her that would persuade
Such pious work, he spurred behind the dame;
Who thither led (nor tedious was the way)
Where nigh reduced to death the stripling lay.
They found Rogero fasting from all food
For three long days, so broken down; with pain
The knight could but upon his feet have stood,
To fall, albeit unpushed, to ground again.
With helm on head, and with his faulchion good
Begirt, he lay reclined in plate and chain.
A pillow of his buckler had he made,
Where the white unicorn was seen portrayed.
There thinking what an injury he had done
To his lady love—how ingrate, how untrue
To her had been—not simple grief alone
O’erwhelmed him, to such height his fury grew,
He bit his hands and lips; while pouring down
His cheeks, the tears unceasing ran, and through
The passion that so wrapt his troubled sprite,
Nor Leo nor Melissa heard the knight.
Nor therefore interrupts he his lament,
Nor checks his sighs, nor checks his trickling tears.
Young Leo halts, to hear his speech intent;
Lights from his courser, and towards him steers:
He knows that of the sorrows which torment
Love is the cause; but yet from nought appears
Who is the person that such grief hath bred;
For by Rogero this remains unsaid.
Approaching nearer and yet nearer, now
He fronts the weeping warrior, face to face,
Greets with a brother’s love, and stooping low,
His neck encircles with a fast embrace.
By the lamenting Child I know not how
Is liked his sudden presence in that place;
Who fears annoy or trouble at his hand;
And lest he should his wish for death withstand.
Him with the sweetest words young Leo plied,
And with the warmest love that he could show,
“Let it not irk thee,” to the Child he cried,
“To tell the cause from whence thy sorrows flow:
For few such desperate evils man betide,
But that there is deliverance from his woe,
So that the cause be known; nor he bereft
Of hope should ever be, so life be left.
“Much grieve I thou wouldst hide thyself from me,
That known me for thy faithful friend and true;
Not only now I am so bound to thee,
That I the knot can never more undo;
But even from the beginning, when to be
Thy deadly foeman I had reason due.
Hope then that I will succour thee with pelf,
With friends, with following, and with life itself.
“Nor shun to me thy sorrow to explain,
And I beseech thee leave to me to try
If wealth avail to free thee from thy pain,
Art, cunning, open force, or flattery,
If my assistance is employed in vain,
The last relief remains to thee to die:
But be content awhile this deed to shun
Till all that thou canst do shall first be done.”
He said; and with such forceful prayer appealed;
So gently and benignly soothed his moan;
That good Rogero
