What time he Argalìa’s helm in vain
Sought in the brook; yet though the count was near,
Has not stretched forth his hand the prize to gain.
For so it was, that neither of the pair
Could recognise the other knight while there.
Upon the enchanted dome lay such a spell,
That they from one another were concealed;
They doffed not, night nor day, the corselet’s shell,
Not sword, nor even put aside the shield.
Saddled, with bridle hanging at the sell,
Their steeds were feeding, ready for the field,
Within a chamber, near the palace door,
With straw and barley heaped in plenteous store.
Nor might nor mean in old Atlantes lies
To stop the knights from mounting, who repair
To their good steeds, to chase the bright black eyes,
The fair vermillion cheeks and golden hair
Of the sweet damsel, who before them flies,
And goads to better speed her panting mare;
Ill pleased the three assembled to discern,
Though haply she had taken each in turn.
And when these from the magic palace she
Had ticed so far, that she no more supposed
The warriors to the wicked fallacy
Of the malign enchanter were exposed,
The ring, which more than once from misery
Had rescued her, she ’twixt her lips enclosed,
Hence from their sight she vanished in a thought,
And left them wondering there, like men distraught.
Although she first the scheme had entertained
Roland or Sacripant to have released,
To guide her thither, where her father reigned,
King Galaphron, who ruled i’ the farthest East,
The aid of both she suddenly disdained,
And in an instant from her project ceased;
And deemed, without more debt to count or king,
In place of either knight sufficed the ring.
In haste, they through the forest, here and there,
So scorned of her, still gaze with stupid face;
Like questing hound which loses sight of hare
Or fox, of whom he late pursued the trace,
Into close thicket, ditch, or narrow lair,
Escaping from the keen pursuer’s chase.
Meantime their ways the wanton Indian queen
Observes, and at their wonder laughs unseen.
In the mid wood, where they the maid did lose,
Was but a single pathway, left or right;
Which they believed the damsel could not choose
But follow, when she vanished from their sight.
Ferraù halts not, and Roland fast pursues,
Nor Sacripant less plies the rowels bright.
Angelica, this while, retrains her steed,
And follows the three warriors with less speed.
When pricking thus they came to where the way
Was in the forest lost, with wood o’ergrown,
And had begun the herbage to survey
For print of recent footsteps, up and down,
The fierce Ferraù, who might have borne away
From all that ever proudest were, the crown,
With evil countenance, to the other two
Turned him about, and shouted “Whence are you?
“Turn back or take another road, save here,
In troth, you covet to be slain by me.
Nor when I chase or woo my lady dear,
Let any think I bear with company.”
And—“What more could he say, sir cavalier,”
(Orlando cried to Sacripant) “if we
Were known for the two basest whores that pull
And reel from spindle-staff the matted wool?”
Then turning to Ferraù, “But that thine head,
Thou brutish sot, as I behold, is bare,
If thy late words were ill or wisely said,
Thou should’st perceive, before we further fare.”
To him Ferraù; “For that which breeds no dread
In me, why should’st thou take such sovereign care?
What I have said unhelmed will I prove true,
Here, single as I am, on both of you.
“Oh!” (to Circassia’s king cried Roland dread)
“Thy morion for this man let me entreat,
Till I have driven such folly from his head;
For never with like madness did I meet.”
—“Who then would be most fool?” the monarch said;
“But if indeed you deem the suit discreet,
Lend him thine own; nor shall I be less fit
Haply than thee to school his lack of wit.”
—“Fools, both of you!” (the fierce Ferraù replied)
“As if, did I to wear a helm delight,
You would not be without your casques of pride,
Already reft by me in your despite;
But know thus much, that I by vow am tied
To wear no helm, and thus my promise quite;156
Roaming without, till that fine casque I win
Worn by Orlando, Charles’s paladin.”
—“Then” (smiling, to the Spaniard said the count)
“With naked head, thou thinkest to repeat
On Roland what he did in Aspramont,
By Agolant’s bold son: but shouldst thou meet
The warrior whom thou seekest, front to front,
I warrant thou wouldst quake from head to feet;
Nor only wouldst forego the casque, but give
The knight thine other arms to let thee live.”
—“So oft have I had Roland on the hip,
And oft,” (exclaimed the boaster) “heretofore;
From him it had been easy task to strip
What other arms, beside his helm, he wore;
And if I still have let the occasion slip,
—We sometimes think of things unwished before:
Such wish I had not; I have now; and hope
To compass easily my present scope.”
The good Orlando could no more forbear,
And cried, “Foul miscreant, liar, marched with me,
Say, caitiff, in what country, when and where
Boast you to have obtained such victory?
That paladin am I, o’er whom you dare
To vaunt, and whom you distant deemed: now see
If you can take my helm, or I have might
To take your other arms in your despite.
“Nor I o’er you the smallest vantage would.”
He ended, and his temples disarrayed,
And to a beech hung up the helmet good,
And nigh as quickly bared his trenchant blade.
Ferraù stands close, and in such attitude,
(His courage not for what had chanced dismayed)
Covered with lifted shield and naked sword,
As might best shelter to his head afford.
’Twas thus those warriors two, with faulchions bare,
Turning their ready steeds, began to
