XII.

"A thousand times I've been about to say,

Orlando too presumptuously goes on;

Here are we, counts, kings, dukes, to own thy sway,
Hamo, and Otho, Ogier, Solomon,
Each have to honour thee and to obey;

But he has too much credit near the throne,
Which we won't suffer, but are quite decided
By such a boy to be no longer guided.

XIII.

"And even at Aspramont thou didst begin

To let him know he was a gallant knight, And by the fount did much the day to win; But I know who that day had won the fight If it had not for good Gherardo been:

The victory was Almonte's else; his sight He kept upon the standard, and the laurels In fact and fairness are his earning, Charles. XIV.

"If thou remember'st being in Gascony,

When there advanced the nations out of Spain, The Christian cause had suffer'd shamefully,

Had not his valour driven them back again.
Best speak the truth when there's a reason why:
Know then, O emperor! that all complain:
As for myself, I shall repass the mounts
O'er which I cross'd with two and sixty counts.
XV.

"'Tis fit thy grandeur should dispense relief,

So that each here may have his proper part, For the whole court is more or less in grief: Perhaps thou deem'st this lad a Mars in heart?" Orlando one day heard this speech in brief,

As by himself it chanced he sate apart:
Displeased he was with Gan because he said it,
But much more still that Charles should give him credit.
XVI.

And with the sword he would have murder'd Gan,
But Oliver thrust in between the pair,
And from his hand extracted Durlindan,

And thus at length they separated were.
Orlando, angry too with Carloman,

Wanted but little to have slain him there; Then forth alone from Paris went the chief, And burst and madden'd with disdain and grief. XVII.

From Ermellina, consort of the Dane,

He took Cortana, and then took Rondell,
And on towards Brara prick'd him o'er the plain;
And when she saw him coming, Aldabelle
Stretch'd forth her arms to clasp her lord again:
Orlando, in whose brain all was not well,
As "Welcome, my Orlando, home," she said,
Raised up his sword to smite her on the head.
XVIII.

Like him a fury counsels; his revenge
On Gan in that rash act he seem'd to take,
Which Aldabella thought extremely strange:
But soon Orlando found himself awake;
And his spouse took his bridle on this change,
And he dismounted from his horse, and spake
Of every thing which pass'd without demur,
And then reposed himself some days with her.

XIX.

Then full of wrath departed from the place,
And far as pagan countries roam'd astray,
And while he rode, yet still at every pace
The traitor Gan remember'd by the way;
And wandering on in error a long space,

An abbey which in a lone desert lay,
'Midst glens obscure, and distant lands, he found,
Which form'd the Christian's and the pagan's bound.
XX.

The abbot was call'd Clermont, and by blood
Descended from Angrante: under cover
Of a great mountain's brow the abbey stood,
But certain savage giants look'd him over;
One Passamont was foremost of the brood,

And Alabaster and Morgante hover
Second and third, with certain slings, and throw
In daily jeopardy the place below.

XXI.

The monks could pass the convent gate no more, Nor leave their cells for water or for wood; Orlando knock'd, but none would ope, before

Unto the prior it at length seem'd good; Enter'd, he said that he was taught to adore

Him who was born of Mary's holiest blood, And was baptized a Christian; and then show'd How to the abbey he had found his road.

XXII.

Said the abbot, "You are welcome; what is mine We give you freely, since that you believe With us in Mary Mother's Son divine;

And that you may not, cavalier, conceive
The cause of our delay to let you in

To be rusticity, you shall receive
The reason why our gate was barr'd to you:
Thus those who in suspicion live must do.

XXIII.

"When hither to inhabit first we came
These mountains, albeit that they are obscure,
As you perceive, yet without fear or blame
They seem'd to promise an asylum sure:
From savage brutes alone, too fierce to tame,
"'T was fit our quiet dwelling to secure;
But now, if here we'd stay, we needs must guard
Against domestic beasts with watch and ward.

XXIV.

"These make us stand, in fact, upon the watch; For late there have appear'd three giants rough; What nation or what kingdom bore the batch

I know not, but they are all of savage stuff';
When force and malice with some genius match,
You know, they can do all-we are not enough:
And these so much our orisons derange,
I know not what to do, till matters change.
XXV.

"Our ancient fathers living the desert in,
For just and holy works were duly fed;
Think not they lived on locusts sole, 'tis certain
That manna was rain'd down from heaven instead:
But here 'tis fit we keep on the alert in
[bread
Our bounds, or taste the stones shower'd down fo
From off yon mountain daily raining faster,
And flung by Passamont and Alabaster.

XXVI.

→ The third, Morgante, 's savagest by far; he Plocks up pines, beeches, poplar-trees, and oaks, And flings them, our community to bury;

And all that I can do but more provokes." While thus they parley in the cemetery,

A stone from one of their gigantic strokes, Which nearly crush'd Rondell, came tumbling over, So that he took a long leap under cover.

XXVII.

•For God-sake, cavalier, come in with speed;
The manna's falling now," the abbot cried.
This fellow does not wish my horse should feed,
Dear abbot," Roland unto him replied.

*Of restiveness he'd cure him had he need;

That stone seems with good-will and aim applied.” The holy father said, "I don't deceive; They'll one day fling the mountain, I believe."

XXVIII.

Orlando bade them take care of Rondello,

And also made a breakfast of his own:
Abbot," he said, "I want to find that fellow

Who flung at my good horse yon corner-stone." Said the abbot, "Let not my advice seem shallow; As to a brother dear I speak alone;

I would dissuade you, baron, from this strife,
As knowing sure that you will lose your life.

XXIX.

"That Passamont has in his hand three darts

Such slings, clubs, ballast-stones, that yield you must; You know that giants have much stouter hearts Than us, with reason, in proportion just: If go you will, guard well against their arts, For these are very barbarous and robust." Orlando answer'd, "This I'll see, be sure, And walk the wild on foot, to be secure."

XXX.

The abbot sign'd the great cross on his front, "Then go you with God's benison and mine:" Orlando, after he had scaled the mount,

As the abbot had directed, kept the line
Right to the usual haunt of Passamont;
Who, seeing him alone in this design,

Survey'd him fore and aft with eyes observant,
Then ask'd him, "If he wish'd to stay as servant?"

XXXI.

And promised him an office of great ease,

But, said Orlando, "Saracen insane!

I come to kill you, if it shall so please

God, not to serve as footboy in your train;

You with his monks so oft have broke the peace---
Vile dog! 'tis past his patience to sustain."
The giant ran to fetch his arms, quite furious,
When he received an answer so injurious.
XXXII.

And being return'd to where Orlando stood,
Who had not moved him from the spot, and swinging
The cord, he hurl'd a stone with strength so rude,
As show'd a sample of his skill in slinging;
It roll'd on Count Orlando's helmet good

And head, and set both head and helmet ringing, So that he swoon'd with pain as if he died,

But more than dead, he seem'd so stupified.

XXXIII.

Then Passamont, who thought him slain outright,
Said, "I will go, and, while he lies along,
Disarm me: why such craven did I fight?"
But Christ his servants ne'er abandons long,
Especially Orlando, such a knight,

As to desert would almost be a wrong.
While the giant goes to put off his defences,
Orlando has recall'd his force and senses:

XXXIV.

And loud he shouted, "Giant, where dost go?
Thou thought'st me doubtless for the bier outlaid;
To the right about-without wings thou'rt too slow
To fly my vengeance-currish renegade!
'Twas but by treachery thou laid'st me low."
The giant his astonishment betray'd,
And turn'd about, and stopp'd his journey on,
And then he stoop'd to pick up a great stone.

XXXV.

Orlando had Cortana bare in hand;

To split the head in twain was what he schemed :Cortana clave the skull like a true brand,

And pagan Passamont died unredeem'd,
Yet harsh and haughty, as he lay he bann'd,
And most devoutly Macon still blasphemed;
But, while his crude rude blasphemies he heard,
Orlando thank'd the Father and the Word,-

XXXVI.

Saying, "What grace to me thou'st this day given !
And I to thee, O Lord! am ever bound;

I know my life was saved by thee from heaven,
Since by the giant I was fairly down'd.

All things by thee are measured just and even;
Our power without thine aid would nought be found:

I pray thee take heed of me, till I can
At least return once more to Carloman."

XXXVII.

And, having said thus much, he went his way;
And Alabaster he found out below,

Doing the very best that in him lay

To root from out a bank a rock or two. Orlando, when he reach'd him, loud 'gan say,

"How think'st thou, glutton, such a stone to throw?" When Alabaster heard his deep voice ring,

He suddenly betook him to his sling,

XXXVIII.

And hurl'd a fragment of a size so large,

That if it had in fact fulfill'd its mission,

And Roland not avail'd him of his targe,

There would have been no need of a physician. Orlando set himself in turn to charge,

And in his bulky bosom made incision

With all his sword. The lout fell; but o'erthrown, he However by no means forgot Macone.

XXXIX.

Morgante had a palace in his mode,

Composed of branches, logs of wood, and earth,
And stretch'd himself at ease in this abode,
And shut himself at night within his birth.
Orlando knock'd, and knock'd again, to goad

The giant from his sleep; and he came forth,
The door to open, like a crazy thing,
For a rough dream had shook him slumbering.

XL.

He thought that a fierce serpent had attack'd him;
And Mahomet he call'd; but Mahomet
Is nothing worth, and not an instant back'd him;
But praying blessed Jesu, he was set
At liberty from all the fears which rack'd him;
And to the gate he came with great regret-
"Who knocks here?" grumbling all the while, said he.
"That," said Orlando, "you will quickly see.

XLI.

"I come to preach to you, as to your brothers, Sent by the miserable monks-repentance; For Providence divine, in you and others,

Condemns the evil done by new acquaintance. 'Tis writ on high-your wrong must pay another's; From heaven itself is issued out this sentence. Know then, that colder now than a pilaster I left your Passamont and Alabaster."

XLII.

Morgante said, "O gentle cavalier!

Now by thy God say me no villany;
The favour of your name I fain would hear,
And, if a Christian, speak for courtesy."
Replied Orlando, "So much to your ear

I by my faith disclose contentedly;
Christ I adore, who is the genuine Lord,
And, if you please, by you may be adored."
XLIII.

The Saracen rejoin'd, in humble tone,
"I have had an extraordinary vision;
A savage serpent fell on me alone,

And Macon would not pity my condition;
Hence to thy God, who for ye did atone
Upon the cross, preferr'd I my petition;
His timely succour set me safe and free,
And I a Christian am disposed to be."
XLIV.

Orlando answer'd, "Baron just and pious,
If this good wish your heart can really move
To the true God, who will not then deny us
Eternal honour, you will go above,
And, if you please, as friends we will ally us,
And I will love you with a perfect love.
Your idols are vain liars, full of fraud:
The only true God is the Christian's God.

XLV.

"The Lord descended to the virgin breast
Of Mary Mother, sinless and divine;
If you acknowledge the Redeemer blest,

Without whom neither sun nor star can shine, Abjure bad Macon's false and felon test,

Your renegado god, and worship mine,Baptize yourself with zeal, since you repent." To which Morgante answer'd, "I'm content." XLVI.

And then Orlando to embrace him flew,

And made much of his convert, as he cried, "To the abbey I will gladly marshal you."

To whom Morgante, "Let us go," replied; "I to the friars have for peace to sue."

Which thing Orlando heard with inward pride, Saying, "My brother, so devout and good, Ask the abbot pardon, as I wish you would:

XLVII.

"Since God has granted your illumination,
Accepting you in mercy for his own,
Humility should be your first oblation."
Morgante said, "For goodness' sake, make known—
Since that your God is to be mine-your station,
And let your name in verity be shown;
Then will I every thing at your command do."
On which the other said, he was Orlando.

XLVIII.

"Then," quoth the giant, "blessed be Jesu
A thousand times with gratitude and praise!
Oft, perfect baron! have I heard of you
Through all the different periods of my days:
And, as I said, to be your vassal too

wish, for your great gallantry, always." Thus reasoning, they continued much to say, And onwards to the abbey went their way.

XLIX.

And, by the way, about the giants dead
Orlando with Morgante reason'd: "Be,
For their decease, I pray you, comforted,

And, since it is God's pleasure, pardon me; A thousand wrongs unto the monks they bred, And our true Scripture soundeth openly, Good is rewarded, and chastised the ill, Which the Lord never faileth to fulfil:

L.

"Because his love of justice unto all

Is such, he wills his judgment should devour All who have sin, however great or small; But good he well remembers to restore. Nor without justice holy could we call

Him, whom I now require you to adore. All men must make his will their wishes sway, And quickly and spontaneously obey.

LI.

"And here our doctors are of one accord,

Coming on this point to the same conclusion,That in their thoughts who praise in heaven the Lord If pity e'er was guilty of intrusion,

For their unfortunate relations stored

In hell below, and damn'd in great confusion,Their happiness would be reduced to nought, And thus unjust the Almighty's self be thought.

LII.

"But they in Christ have firmest hope, and all
Which seems to him, to them too must appear
Well done; nor could it otherwise befall:
He never can in any purpose err.

If sire or mother suffer endless thrall,

They don't disturb themselves for him or her; What pleases God to them must joy inspire;Such is the observance of the eternal choir."

LIII.

"A word unto the wise," Morgante said,

"Is wont to be enough, and you shall see How much I grieve about my brethren dead; And if the will of God seem good to me, Just, as you tell me, 'tis in heaven obey'dAshes to ashes,-merry let us be!

I will cut off the hands from both their trunks, And carry them unto the holy monks:

LIV.

So that all persons may be sure and certain That they are dead, and have no further fear To wander solitary this desert in,

And that they may perceive my spirit clear By the Lord's grace, who hath withdrawn the curtain Of darkness, making his bright realm appear." He cat his brethren's hands off at these words, And left them to the savage beasts and birds. LV.

Then to the abbey they went on together,

Where waited them the abbot in great doubt. The monks, who knew not yet the fact, ran thither To their superior, all in breathless rout, Saving with tremor, "Please to tell us whether You wish to have this person in or out?" The abbot, looking through upon the giant, Too greatly fear'd, at first, to be compliant.

LVI.

Orlando, seeing him thus agitated,

Said quickly, "Abbot, be thou of good cheer; He Christ believes, as Christian must be rated, And hath renounced his Macon false;" which here Morgante with the hands corroborated,

A proof of both the giants' fate quite clear: Thence, with due thanks, the abbot God adored, Saying, "Thou hast contented me, O Lord!" LVII.

He gazed; Morgante's height he calculated,
And more than once contemplated his size;
And then he said, "O giant celebrated!

Know, that no more my wonder will arise
How you could tear and fling the trees you late did,
When I behold your form with my own eyes.
You now a true and perfect friend will show
Yourself to Christ, as once you were a foe.

LVIII.

And one of our apostles, Saul once named, Long persecuted sore the faith of Christ, Till, one day, by the Spirit being inflamed,

Why dost thou persecute me thus?' said Christ, And then from his offence he was reclaim'd, And went for ever after preaching Christ, And of the faith became a trump, whose sounding Oer the whole earth is echoing and rebounding. LIX.

*So, my Morgante, you may do likewise;

He who repents-thus writes the EvangelistOccasions more rejoicing in the skies

Than ninety-nine of the celestial list.
You may be sure, should each desire arise
With just zeal for the Lord, that you'll exist
Among the happy saints for evermore;
But you were lost and damn'd to hell before!"

LX.

And thus great honour to Morgante paid
The abbot: many days they did repose.
One day, as with Orlando they both stray'd,
And saunter'd here and there, where'er they chose,
The abbot show'd a chamber, where array'd
Much armour was, and hung up certain bows;
And one of these Morgante for a whim
Girt on, though useless, he believed, to him.

(1) "Gli dette in su la testa un gran punzone." It is strange that Pulci should have literally anticipated the

LXI.

There being a want of water in the place,
Orlando, like a worthy brother, said,
"Morgante, I could wish you in this case
To go for water." "You shall be obey'd
In all commands," was the reply, "straightways."
Upon his shoulder a great tub he laid,
And went out on his way unto a fountain,
Where he was wont to drink, below the mountain.

LXII.

Arrived there, a prodigious noise he hears,
Which suddenly along the forest spread;
Whereat from out his quiver be prepares

An arrow for his bow, and lifts his head;
And lo! a monstrous herd of swine appears,

And onward rushes with tempestuous tread, And to the fountain's brink precisely pours; So that the giant's join'd by all the boars. LXIII.

Morgante at a venture shot an arrow,

Which pierced a pig precisely in the ear, And pass'd unto the other side quite thorough; So that the boar, defunct, lay tripp'd up near. Another, to revenge his fellow-farrow,

Against the giant rush'd in fierce career, And reach'd the passage with so swift a foot, Morgante was not now in time to shoot.

LXIV.

Perceiving that the pig was on him close,

He gave him such a punch upon the head (1) As floor'd him, so that he no more arose,

Smashing the very bone; and he fell dead Next to the other. Having seen such blows,

The other pigs along the valley fled; Morgante on his neck the bucket took,

Full from the spring, which neither swerved nor shook.
LXV.

The tun was on one shoulder, and there were
The hogs on t' other, and he brush'd apace
On to the abbey, though by no means near,

Nor spilt one drop of water in his race.
Orlando, seeing him so soon appear

With the dead boars, and with that brimful vase, Marvell'd to see his strength so very great;

So did the abbot, and set wide the gate.

LXVI.

The monks, who saw the water fresh and good, Rejoiced, but much more to perceive the pork ;All animals are glad at sight of food;

They lay their breviaries to sleep, and work With greedy pleasure, and in such a mood,

That the flesh needs no salt beneath their fork, Of rankness and of rot there is no fear, For all the fasts are now left in arrear.

LXVII.

As though they wish'd to burst at once, they ate;
And gorged so that, as if the bones had been
In water, sorely grieved the dog and cat,
Perceiving that they all were pick'd too clean.
The abbot, who to all did honour great,

A few days after this convivial scene,
Gave to Morgante a fine horse, well train'd,
Which he long time had for himself maintain'd.

technical terms of my old friend and master, Jackson, and the art which he has carried to its highest pitch. "A

LXVIII.

The horse Morgante to a meadow led,
To gallop, and to put him to the proof,
Thinking that he a back of iron had,

Or to skim eggs unbroke was light enough;
But the horse, sinking with the pain, fell dead,
And burst, while cold on earth lay head and hoof.
Morgante said, "Get up, thou sulky cur!"
And still continued pricking with the spur.
LXIX.

But finally he thought fit to dismount,

And said, "I am as light as any feather,
And he has burst;-to this what say you, count?"
Orlando answer'd, "Like a ship's mast rather
You seem to me, and with the trunk for front:-
Let him go; Fortune wills that we together
Should march, but you on foot Morgante still."
To which the giant answer'd, "So I will.
LXX.

"When there shall be occasion, you will see
How I approve my courage in the fight."
Orlando said, "I really think you'll be,
If it should prove God's will, a goodly knight;
Nor will you napping there discover me.

But never mind your horse, though out of sight "T were best to carry him into some wood, If but the means or way I understood."

LXXI.

The giant said, "Then carry him I will,
Since that to carry me he was so slack-
To render, as the gods do, good for ill;
But lend a hand to place him on my back."
Orlando answer'd, "If my counsel still

May weigh, Morgante, do not undertake
To lift or carry this dead courser, who,
As you have done to him, will do to you.
LXXII.

"Take care he don't revenge himself, though dead, As Nessus did of old beyond all cure.

I don't know if the fact you've heard or read; But he will make you burst, you may be sure." "But help him on my back," Morgante said,

"And you shall see what weight I can endure.
In place, my gentle Roland, of this palfrey,
With all the bells, I'd carry yonder belfry."
LXXIII.

The abbot said, "The steeple may do well,
But, for the bells, you've broken them, I wot."
Morgante answer'd, "Let them pay in hell

The penalty who lie dead in yon grot;"
And hoisting up the horse from where he fell,

He said, "Now look if I the gout have got,
Orlando, in the legs-or if I have force;"-
And then he made two gambols with the horse.
LXXIV.

Morgante was like any mountain framed; So if he did this, 't is no prodigy; But secretly himself Orlando blamed, Because he was one of his family; And fearing that he might be hurt or maim'd, Once more he bade him lay his burden by: "Put down, nor bear him further the desert in." Morgante said, "I'll carry him for certain." punch on the head," or "a punch in the head,”-un punzone in su la testa,"-is the exact and frequent phrase of our

LXXV.
He did; and stow'd him in some nook away,
And to the abbey then return'd with speed.
Orlando said, "Why longer do we stay?

"Morgante, here is nought to do indeed." The abbot by the hand he took one day,

And said, with great respect, he had agreed To leave his reverence; but for this decision He wish'd to have his pardon and permission. LXXVI.

The honours they continued to receive

Perhaps exceeded what his merits claim'd: He said, "I mean, and quickly, to retrieve

The lost days of time past, which may be blamed; Some days ago I should have ask'd your leave,

Kind father, but I really was ashamed,
And know not how to show my sentiment,
So much I see you with our stay content.
LXXVII.

"But in my heart I bear through every clime
The abbot, abbey, and this solitude-
So much I love you in so short a time;

For me, from heaven reward you with all good The God so true, the eternal Lord sublime!

Whose kingdom at the last hath open stood. Meantime we stand expectant of your blessing, And recommend us to your prayers with pressing." LXXVIII.

Now when the abbot Count Orlando heard,
His heart grew soft with inner tenderness,
Such fervour in his bosom bred each word;

And, "Cavalier," he said, "if I have less Courteous and kind to your great worth appear'd,

Than fits me for such gentle blood to express, I know I have done too little in this case; But blame our ignorance, and this poor place. LXXIX.

"We can indeed but honour you with masses, And sermons, thanksgivings, and pater-nosters, Hot suppers, dinners (fitting other places

In verity much rather than the cloisters); But such a love for you my heart embraces,

For thousand virtues which your bosom fosters, That wheresoe'er you go I too shall be, And, on the other part, you rest with me. LXXX.

"This may involve a seeming contradiction;

But you I know are sage, and feel, and taste, And understand my speech with full conviction. For your just pious deeds may you be graced With the Lord's great reward and benediction, By whom you were directed to this waste: To his high mercy is our freedom due, For which we render thanks to him and you. LXXXI.

"You saved at once our life and soul: such fear The giants caused us, that the way was lost By which we could pursue a fit career

In search of Jesus and the saintly host; And your departure breeds such sorrow here,

That comfortless we all are to our cost; But months and years you would not stay in sloth. Nor are you form'd to wear our sober cloth;

best pugilists, who little dream that they are talking t purest Tuscan.