May God dispatch the Archangel Michael down.”
—And him, with that, the simple hermit blest.
Astolpho pricks along Nile’s rosy strand,
More in his horn confiding than his brand.
Between the mighty river and the fen,
A path upon the sandy shore doth lie,
Barred by the giant’s solitary den,
Cut off from converse with humanity.
About it heads and naked limbs of men
Were fixed, the victims of his cruelty.
Window or battlements was not, whence strung
Might not be seen some wretched prisoner hung.
As in hill-farm or castle, fenced with moat,
The hunter, mindful what his dangers were,
Aye fastens on his door the shaggy coat
And horrid paws and monstrous head of bear;
So showed the giant those of greatest note,
Who, thither brought, had perished in his snare.
The bones of countless others wide were spread,
And every ditch with human blood was red.
Caligorant was standing at the gate
(For so was the despiteous monster hight);
Who decked his house with corpses, as for state
Some theirs with cloth of gold and scarlet dight.
He scarce contained himself for joy, so great
His pleasure, when the duke appeared in sight;
For ’twas two months complete, a third was near,
Since by that road had past a cavalier.
Towards the marish, where green rushes grow,
He hastes, intending from that covert blind
To double on his unsuspecting foe,
And issue on the cavalier behind:
For him to drive into the net, below
The sand, the griesly giant had designed;
As others trapt he had been wont to see,
Brought thither by their evil destiny.
When him the wary paladin espied,
He stopt his courser, not without great heed,
Lest he into the covert snare might tide,
Forewarned of this by the good hermit’s rede.
Here to his horn for succour he applied,
Nor failed its wonted virtue in this need:
It smote the giant’s heart with such affright,
That he turned back, and homeward fled outright.
Astolpho blew, still watchful of surprise,
Weening to see the engine sprung: fast flew
The giant—as if heart as well as eyes
The thief had lost—nor whitherward he knew:
Such is his fear, he kens not as he flies,
How is own covert mischief to eschew:
He runs into the net, which closing round,
Hampers the wretch, and drags him to the ground.
Astolpho, who beholds his bulky prey
Fall bodily, drives thither at full speed,
Secure himself, and, bent to make him pay
The price of slaughtered thousands, quits his steed.
Yet after, deems a helpless wight to slay
No valour were, but rather foul misdeed:
For him, arms, neck, and feet so closely tied,
He could not shake himself, the warrior spied.
With subtle thread of steel had Vulcan wrought
The net of old, and with such cunning pain,
He, who to break its weakest mesh had sought,
Would have bestowed his time and toil in vain.
It was with this he Mars and Venus caught,
Who, hands and feet, were fettered by the chain:
Nor did the jealous husband weave the thread
For aught, but to surprise that pair in bed.
Mercury from the smith conveyed the prize,
Wanting to take young Chloris in the snare;
Sweet Chloris, who behind Aurora flies,
At rise of sun, through fields of liquid air,
And from her gathered garment, through the skies,
Scatters the violet, rose, and lily fair.
He for this nymph his toils so deftly set,
One day, in air he took her with the net.
The nymph (it seems) was taken as she flew,
Where the great Aethiop river meets the brine:
The net was treasured in Canopus, through
Successive ages, in Anubis’ shrine.
After three thousand years, Caligorant drew
The sacred relict from the palace divine:
Whence with the net the impious thief returned,
Who robbed the temple and the city burned,
He fixed it here, beneath the sandy plain,
In mode, that all the travellers whom he chased
Ran into it, and the engine was with pain
Touched, ere it arms, and feet, and neck embraced.
From this the good Astolpho took a chain,
And with the gyve his hands behind him laced:
His arms and breast he swaddled in such guise,
He could not loose himself; then let him rise.
After, his other knots unfastening,
(For he was turned more gentle than a maid)
Astolpho, as a show, the thief would bring,
By city, borough-town, and farm conveyed;
The net as well; than which no quainter thing
Was ever by the file and hammer made.
On him, like sumpter-nag he laid the load,
In triumph led, behind him, on his road.
Him helm and shield he gives alike to bear,
As to a valet; hence proceeds the peer,
Gladdening the fearful pilgrim every where,
Who joys to think, henceforth his way is clear.
So far an end does bold Astolpho fare,
He is to Memphis’ tombs already near—
Memphis renowned for pyramids; in sight,
He marks the populous Cairo opposite.
Ran all the people in tumultuous tide,
To see him drag the unmeasured wight along.
“How can it be,” (each to his fellow cried)
“That one so weak could master one so strong?”
Scarce can Astolpho put the press aside,
So close from every part their numbers throng;
While all admire him as a cavalier
Of mighty worth, and make him goodly cheer.
Then Cairo was not such, as common cry
Pronounces in our age that costly seat;
—That eighteen thousand districts ill supply
Lodging to those who in her markets meet;
—And though the houses are three stories high,
Numbers are forced to sleep in the open street;
And that the sultan has a palace there
Of wonderous size, and passing rich and fair;
And therein (Christian renegadoes all)
Keeps fifteen thousand vassals, for his needs,
Beneath one roof supplied with bower and stall,
Themselves, and wives, and families, and steeds.
The duke desired to see the river’s fall,
And how far Nile into the sea proceeds,
At Damietta; where wayfaring wight,
He
