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BULFINCH'S MYTHOLOGY


  THE AGE OF FABLE
  THE AGE OF CHIVALRY
  LEGENDS OF CHARLEMAGNE


BY THOMAS BULFINCH

COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME


[Editor's Note: The etext contains only LEGENDS OF CHARLEMAGNE]




PUBLISHERS' PREFACE


No new edition of Bulfinch's classic work can be considered complete
without some notice of the American scholar to whose wide erudition and
painstaking care it stands as a perpetual monument. "The Age of Fable"
has come to be ranked with older books like "Pilgrim's Progress,"
"Gulliver's Travels," "The Arabian Nights," "Robinson Crusoe," and five
or six other productions of world-wide renown as a work with which
every one must claim some acquaintance before his education can be
called really complete. Many readers of the present edition will
probably recall coming in contact with the work as children, and, it
may be added, will no doubt discover from a fresh perusal the source of
numerous bits of knowledge that have remained stored in their minds
since those early years. Yet to the majority of this great circle of
readers and students the name Bulfinch in itself has no significance.

Thomas Bulfinch was a native of Boston, Mass., where he was born in
1796. His boyhood was spent in that city, and he prepared for college
in the Boston schools. He finished his scholastic training at Harvard
College, and after taking his degree was for a period a teacher in his
home city. For a long time later in life he was employed as an
accountant in the Boston Merchants' Bank. His leisure time he used for
further pursuit of the classical studies which he had begun at Harvard,
and his chief pleasure in life lay in writing out the results of his
reading, in simple, condensed form for young or busy readers. The plan
he followed in this work, to give it the greatest possible usefulness,
is set forth in the Author's Preface.

"Age of Fable," First Edition, 1855; "The Age of Chivalry," 1858; "The
Boy Inventor," 1860; "Legends of Charlemagne, or Romance of the Middle
Ages," 1863; "Poetry of the Age of Fable," 1863; "Oregon and Eldorado,
or Romance of the Rivers," 1860.

In this complete edition of his mythological and legendary lore "The
Age of Fable," "The Age of Chivalry," and "Legends of Charlemagne" are
included. Scrupulous care has been taken to follow the original text of
Bulfinch, but attention should be called to some additional sections
which have been inserted to add to the rounded completeness of the
work, and which the publishers believe would meet with the sanction of
the author himself, as in no way intruding upon his original plan but
simply carrying it out in more complete detail. The section on Northern
Mythology has been enlarged by a retelling of the epic of the
"Nibelungen Lied," together with a summary of Wagner's version of the
legend in his series of music-dramas. Under the head of "Hero Myths of
the British Race" have been included outlines of the stories of
Beowulf, Cuchulain, Hereward the Wake, and Robin Hood. Of the verse
extracts which occur throughout the text, thirty or more have been
added from literature which has appeared since Bulfinch's time,
extracts that he would have been likely to quote had he personally
supervised the new edition.

Finally, the index has been thoroughly overhauled and, indeed, remade.
All the proper names in the work have been entered, with references to
the pages where they occur, and a concise explanation or definition of
each has been given. Thus what was a mere list of names in the original
has been enlarged into a small classical and mythological dictionary,
which it is hoped will prove valuable for reference purposes not
necessarily connected with "The Age of Fable."

Acknowledgments are due the writings of Dr. Oliver Huckel for
information on the point of Wagner's rendering of the Nibelungen
legend, and M. I. Ebbutt's authoritative volume on "Hero Myths and
Legends of the British Race," from which much of the information
concerning the British heroes has been obtained.




AUTHOR'S PREFACE


If no other knowledge deserves to be called useful but that which helps
to enlarge our possessions or to raise our station in society, then
Mythology has no claim to the appellation. But if that which tends to
make us happier and better can be called useful, then we claim that
epithet for our subject. For Mythology is the handmaid of literature;
and literature is one of the best allies of virtue and promoters of
happiness.

Without a knowledge of mythology much of the elegant literature of our
own language cannot be understood and appreciated. When Byron calls
Rome "the Niobe of nations," or says of Venice, "She looks a Sea-Cybele
fresh from ocean," he calls up to the mind of one familiar with our
subject, illustrations more vivid and striking than the pencil could
furnish, but which are lost to the reader ignorant of mythology. Milton
abounds in similar allusions. The short poem "Comus" contains more than
thirty such, and the ode "On the Morning of the Nativity" half as many.
Through "Paradise Lost" they are scattered profusely. This is one
reason why we often hear persons by no means illiterate say that they
cannot enjoy Milton. But were these persons to add to their more solid
acquirements the easy learning of this little volume, much of the
poetry of Milton which has appeared to them "harsh and crabbed" would
be found "musical as is Apollo's lute." Our citations, taken from more
than twenty-five poets, from Spenser to Longfellow, will show how
general has been the practice of borrowing illustrations from mythology.

The prose writers also avail themselves of the same source of elegant
and suggestive illustration. One can hardly take up a number of the
"Edinburgh" or "Quarterly Review" without meeting with instances. In
Macaulay's article on Milton there are twenty such.

But how is mythology to be taught to one who does not learn it through
the medium of the languages of Greece and Rome? To devote study to a
species of learning which relates wholly to false marvels and obsolete
faiths is not to be expected of the general reader in a practical age
like this. The time even of the young is claimed by so many sciences of
facts and things that little can be spared for set treatises on a
science of mere fancy.

But may not the requisite knowledge of the subject be acquired by
reading the ancient poets in translations? We reply, the field is too
extensive for a preparatory course; and these very translations require
some previous knowledge of the subject to make them intelligible. Let
any one who doubts it read the first page of the "Aeneid," and see what
he can make of "the hatred of Juno," the "decree of the Parcae," the
"judgment of Paris," and the "honors of Ganymede," without this
knowledge.

Shall we be told that answers to such queries may be found in notes, or
by a reference to the Classical Dictionary? We reply, the interruption
of one's reading by either process is so annoying that most readers
prefer to let an allusion pass unapprehended rather than submit to it.
Moreover, such sources give us only the dry facts without any of the
charm of the original narrative; and what is a poetical myth when
stripped of its poetry? The story of Ceyx and Halcyone, which fills a
chapter in our book, occupies but eight lines in the best (Smith's)
Classical Dictionary; and so of others.

Our work is an attempt to solve this problem, by telling the stories of
mythology in such a manner as to make them a source of amusement. We
have endeavored to tell them correctly, according to the ancient
authorities, so that when the reader finds them referred to he may not
be at a loss to recognize the reference. Thus we hope to teach
mythology not as a study, but as a relaxation from study; to give our
work the charm of a story-book, yet by means of it to impart a
knowledge of an important branch of education. The index at the end
will adapt it to the purposes of reference, and make it a Classical
Dictionary for the parlor.

Most of the classical legends in "Stories of Gods and Heroes" are
derived from Ovid and Virgil. They are not literally translated, for,
in the author's opinion, poetry translated into literal prose is very
unattractive reading. Neither are they in verse, as well for other
reasons as from a conviction that to translate faithfully under all the
embarrassments of rhyme and measure is impossible. The attempt has been
made to tell the stories in prose, preserving so much of the poetry as
resides in the thoughts and is separable from the language itself, and
omitting those amplifications which are not suited to the altered form.

The Northern mythological stories are copied with some abridgment from
Mallet's "Northern Antiquities." These chapters, with those on Oriental
and Egyptian mythology, seemed necessary to complete the subject,
though it is believed these topics have not usually been presented in
the same volume with the classical fables.

The poetical citations so freely introduced are expected to answer
several valuable purposes. They will tend to fix in memory the leading
fact of each story, they will help to the attainment of a correct
pronunciation of the proper names, and they will enrich the memory with
many gems of poetry, some of them such as are most frequently quoted or
alluded to in reading and conversation.

Having chosen mythology as connected with literature for our province,
we have endeavored to omit nothing which the reader of elegant
literature is likely to find occasion for. Such stories and parts of
stories as are offensive to pure taste and good morals are not given.
But such stories are not often referred to, and if they occasionally
should be, the English reader need feel no mortification in confessing
his ignorance of them.

Our work is not for the learned, nor for the theologian, nor for the
philosopher, but for the reader of English literature, of either sex,
who wishes to comprehend the allusions so frequently made by public
speakers, lecturers, essayists, and poets, and those which occur in
polite conversation.

In the "Stories of Gods and Heroes" the compiler has endeavored to
impart the pleasures of classical learning to the English reader, by
presenting the stories of Pagan mythology in a form adapted to modern
taste. In "King Arthur and His Knights" and "The Mabinogeon" the
attempt has been made to treat in the same way the stories of the
second "age of fable," the age which witnessed the dawn of the several
states of Modern Europe.

It is believed that this presentation of a literature which held
unrivalled sway over the imaginations of our ancestors, for many
centuries, will not be without benefit to the reader, in addition to
the amusement it may afford. The tales, though not to be trusted for
their facts, are worthy of all credit as pictures of manners; and it is
beginning to be held that the manners and modes of thinking of an age
are a more important part of its history than the conflicts of its
peoples, generally leading to no result. Besides this, the literature
of romance is a treasure-house of poetical material, to which modern
poets frequently resort. The Italian poets, Dante and Ariosto, the
English, Spenser, Scott, and Tennyson, and our own Longfellow and
Lowell, are examples of this.

These legends are so connected with each other, so consistently adapted
to a group of characters strongly individualized in Arthur, Launcelot,
and their compeers, and so lighted up by the fires of imagination and
invention, that they seem as well adapted to the poet's purpose as the
legends of the Greek and Roman mythology. And if every well-educated
young person is expected to know the story of the Golden Fleece, why is
the quest of the Sangreal less worthy of his acquaintance? Or if an
allusion to the shield of Achilles ought not to pass unapprehended, why
should one to Excalibar, the famous sword of Arthur?--

    "Of Arthur, who, to upper light restored,
     With that terrific sword,
     Which yet he brandishes for future war,
     Shall lift his country's fame above the polar star."

[Footnote: Wordsworth]

It is an additional recommendation of our subject, that it tends to
cherish in our minds the idea of the source from which we sprung. We
are entitled to our full share in the glories and recollections of the
land of our forefathers, down to the time of colonization thence. The
associations which spring from this source must be fruitful of good
influences; among which not the least valuable is the increased
enjoyment which such associations afford to the American traveller when
he visits England, and sets his foot upon any of her renowned
localities.

The legends of Charlemagne and his peers are necessary to complete the
subject.

In an age when intellectual darkness enveloped Western Europe, a
constellation of brilliant writers arose in Italy. Of these, Pulci
(born in 1432), Boiardo (1434), and Ariosto (1474) took for their
subjects the romantic fables which had for many ages been transmitted
in the lays of bards and the legends of monkish chroniclers. These
fables they arranged in order, adorned with the embellishments of
fancy, amplified from their own invention, and stamped with
immortality. It may safely be asserted that as long as civilization
shall endure these productions will retain their place among the most
cherished creations of human genius.

In "Stories of Gods and Heroes," "King Arthur and His Knights" and "The
Mabinogeon" the aim has been to supply to the modern reader such
knowledge of the fables of classical and mediaeval literature as is
needed to render intelligible the allusions which occur in reading and
conversation. The "Legends of Charlemagne" is intended to carry out the
same design. Like the earlier portions of the work, it aspires to a
higher character than that of a piece of mere amusement. It claims to
be useful, in acquainting its readers with the subjects of the
productions of the great poets of Italy. Some knowledge of these is
expected of every well-educated young person.

In reading these romances, we cannot fail to observe how the primitive
inventions have been used, again and again, by successive generations
of fabulists. The Siren of Ulysses is the prototype of the Siren of
Orlando, and the character of Circe reappears in Alcina. The fountains
of Love and Hatred may be traced to the story of Cupid and Psyche; and
similar effects produced by a magic draught appear in the tale of
Tristram and Isoude, and, substituting a flower for the draught, in
Shakspeare's "Midsummer Night's Dream." There are many other instances
of the same kind which the reader will recognize without our assistance.

The sources whence we derive these stories are, first, the Italian
poets named above; next, the "Romans de Chevalerie" of the Comte de
Tressan; lastly, certain German collections of popular tales. Some
chapters have been borrowed from Leigh Hunt's Translations from the
Italian Poets. It seemed unnecessary to do over again what he had
already done so well; yet, on the other hand, those stories could not
be omitted from the series without leaving it incomplete.

THOMAS BULFINCH.




CONTENTS


LEGENDS OF CHARLEMAGNE


  Introduction
  The Peers, or Paladins
  The Tournament
  The Siege of Albracca
  Adventures of Rinaldo and Orlando
  The Invasion of France
  The Invasion of France (Continued)

  Bradamante and Rogero
  Astolpho and the Enchantress
  The Orc
  Astolpho's Adventures continued, and Isabella's begun.
  Medoro
  Orlando Mad
  Zerbino and Isabella
  Astolpho in Abyssinia
  The War in Africa
  Rogero and Bradamante
  The Battle of Roncesvalles
  Rinaldo and Bayard
  Death of Rinaldo
  Huon of Bordeaux
  Huon of Bordeaux (Continued)
  Huon of Bordeaux (Continued)
  Ogier, the Dane
  Ogier, the Dane (Continued)
  Ogier, the Dane (Continued)

GLOSSARY





LEGENDS OF CHARLEMAGNE




INTRODUCTION


Those who have investigated the origin of the romantic fables relating
to Charlemagne and his peers are of opinion that the deeds of Charles
Martel, and perhaps of other Charleses, have been blended in popular
tradition with those properly belonging to Charlemagne. It was indeed a
most momentous era; and if our readers will have patience, before
entering on the perusal of the fabulous annals which we are about to
lay before them, to take a rapid survey of the real history of the
times, they will find it hardly less romantic than the tales of the
poets.

In the century beginning from the year 600, the countries bordering
upon the native land of our Saviour, to the east and south, had not yet
received his religion. Arabia was the seat of an idolatrous religion
resembling that of the ancient Persians, who worshipped the sun, moon,
and stars. In Mecca, in the year 571, Mahomet was born, and here, at
the age of forty, he proclaimed himself the prophet of God, in dignity
as superior to Christ as Christ had been to Moses. Having obtained by
slow degrees a considerable number of disciples, he resorted to arms to
diffuse his religion. The energy and zeal of his followers, aided by
the weakness of the neighboring nations, enabled him and his successors
to spread the sway of Arabia and the religion of Mahomet over the
countries to the east as far as the Indus, northward over Persia and
Asia Minor, westward over Egypt and the southern shores of the
Mediterranean, and thence over the principal portion of Spain. All this
was done within one hundred years from the Hegira, or flight of Mahomet
from Mecca to Medina, which happened in the year 622, and is the era
from which Mahometans reckon time, as we do from the birth of Christ.

From Spain the way was open for the Saracens (so the followers of
Mahomet were called) into France, the conquest of which, if achieved,
would have been followed very probably by that of all the rest of
Europe, and would have resulted in the banishment of Christianity from
the earth. For Christianity was not at that day universally professed,
even by those nations which we now regard as foremost in civilization.
Great part of Germany, Britain, Denmark, and Russia were still pagan or
barbarous.

At that time there ruled in France, though without the title of king,
the first of those illustrious Charleses of whom we have spoken,
Charles Martel, the grandfather of Charlemagne. The Saracens of Spain
had made incursions into France in 712 and 718, and had retired,
carrying with them a vast booty. In 725, Anbessa, who was then the
Saracen governor of Spain, crossed the Pyrenees with a numerous army,
and took by storm the strong town of Carcassone. So great was the
terror excited by this invasion, that the country for a wide extent
submitted to the conqueror, and a Mahometan governor for the province
was appointed and installed at Narbonne. Anbessa, however, received a
fatal wound in one of his engagements, and the Saracens, being thus
checked from further advance, retired to Narbonne.

In 732 the Saracens again invaded France under Abdalrahman, advanced
rapidly to the banks of the Garonne, and laid siege to Bordeaux. The
city was taken by assault and delivered up to the soldiery. The
invaders still pressed forward, and spread over the territories of
Orleans, Auxerre and Sens. Their advanced parties were suddenly called
in by their chief, who had received information of the rich abbey of
St. Martin of Tours, and resolved to plunder and destroy it.

Charles during all this time had done nothing to oppose the Saracens,
for the reason that the portion of France over which their incursions
had been made was not at that time under his dominion, but constituted
an independent kingdom, under the name of Aquitaine, of which Eude was
king. But now Charles became convinced of the danger, and prepared to
encounter it. Abdalrahman was advancing toward Tours, when intelligence
of the approach of Charles, at the head of an army of Franks, compelled
him to fall back upon Poitiers, in order to seize an advantageous field
of battle.

Charles Martel had called together his warriors from every part of his
dominions, and, at the head of such an army as had hardly ever been
seen in France, crossed the Loire, probably at Orleans, and, being
joined by the remains of the army of Aquitaine, came in sight of the
Arabs in the month of October, 732. The Saracens seem to have been
aware of the terrible enemy they were now to encounter, and for the
first time these formidable conquerors hesitated. The two armies
remained in presence during seven days before either ventured to begin
the attack; but at length the signal for battle was given by
Abdalrahman, and the immense mass of the Saracen army rushed with fury
on the Franks. But the heavy line of the Northern warriors remained
like a rock, and the Saracens, during nearly the whole day, expended
their strength in vain attempts to make any impression upon them. At
length, about four o'clock in the afternoon, when Abdalrahman was
preparing for a new and desperate attempt to break the line of the
Franks, a terrible clamor was heard in the rear of the Saracens. It was
King Eude, who, with his Aquitanians, had attacked their camp, and a
great part of the Saracen army rushed tumultuously from the field to
protect their plunder. In this moment of confusion the line of the
Franks advanced, and, sweeping the field before it, carried fearful
slaughter amongst the enemy. Abdalrahman made desperate efforts to
rally his troops, but when he himself, with the bravest of his
officers, fell beneath the swords of the Christians, all order
disappeared, and the remains of his army sought refuge in their immense
camp, from which Eude and his Aquitanians had been repulsed. It was now
late, and Charles, unwilling to risk an attack on the camp in the dark,
withdrew his army, and passed the night in the plain, expecting to
renew the battle in the morning.

Accordingly, when daylight came, the Franks drew up in order of battle,
but no enemy appeared; and when at last they ventured to approach the
Saracen camp they found it empty. The invaders had taken advantage of
the night to begin their retreat, and were already on their way back to
Spain, leaving their immense plunder behind to fall into the hands of
the Franks.

This was the celebrated battle of Tours, in which vast numbers of the
Saracens were slain, and only fifteen hundred of the Franks. Charles
received the surname of Martel (the Hammer) in consequence of this
victory.

The Saracens, notwithstanding this severe blow, continued to hold their
ground in the south of France; but Pepin, the son of Charles Martel,
who succeeded to his father's power, and assumed the title of king,
successively took from them the strong places they held; and in 759, by
the capture of Narbonne, their capital, extinguished the remains of
their power in France.

Charlemagne, or Charles the Great, succeeded his father, Pepin, on the
throne in the year 768. This prince, though the hero of numerous
romantic legends, appears greater in history than in fiction. Whether
we regard him as a warrior or as a legislator, as a patron of learning
or as the civilizer of a barbarous nation, he is entitled to our
warmest admiration. Such he is in history; but the romancers represent
him as often weak and passionate, the victim of treacherous
counsellors, and at the mercy of turbulent barons, on whose prowess he
depends for the maintenance of his throne. The historical
representation is doubtless the true one, for it is handed down in
trustworthy records, and is confirmed by the events of the age. At the
height of his power, the French empire extended over what we now call
France, Germany, Switzerland, Holland, Belgium, and great part of Italy.

In the year 800 Charlemagne, being in Rome, whither he had gone with a
numerous army to protect the Pope, was crowned by the Pontiff Emperor
of the West. On Christmas day Charles entered the Church of St. Peter,
as if merely to take his part in the celebration of the mass with the
rest of the congregation. When he approached the altar and stooped in
the act of prayer the Pope stepped forward and placed a crown of gold
upon his head; and immediately the Roman people shouted, "Life and
victory to Charles the August, crowned by God the great and pacific
Emperor of the Romans." The Pope then prostrated himself before him,
and paid him reverence, according to the custom established in the
times of the ancient Emperors, and concluded the ceremony by anointing
him with consecrated oil.

Charlemagne's wars were chiefly against the pagan and barbarous people,
who, under the name of Saxons, inhabited the countries now called
Hanover and Holland. He also led expeditions against the Saracens of
Spain; but his wars with the Saracens were not carried on, as the
romances assert, in France, but on the soil of Spain. He entered Spain
by the Eastern Pyrenees, and made an easy conquest of Barcelona and
Pampeluna. But Saragossa refused to open her gates to him, and Charles
ended by negotiating and accepting a vast sum of gold as the price of
his return over the Pyrenees.

On his way back, he marched with his whole army through the gorges of
the mountains by way of the valleys of Engui, Eno, and Roncesvalles.
The chief of this region had waited upon Charlemagne, on his advance,
as a faithful vassal of the monarchy; but now, on the return of the
Franks, he had called together all the wild mountaineers who
acknowledged him as their chief, and they occupied the heights of the
mountains under which the army had to pass. The main body of the troops
met with no obstruction, and received no intimation of danger; but the
rear-guard, which was considerably behind, and encumbered with its
plunder, was overwhelmed by the mountaineers in the pass of
Roncesvalles, and slain to a man. Some of the bravest of the Frankish
chiefs perished on this occasion, among whom is mentioned Roland or
Orlando, governor of the marches or frontier of Brittany. His name
became famous in after times, and the disaster of Roncesvalles and
death of Roland became eventually the most celebrated episode in the
vast cycle of romance.

Though after this there were hostile encounters between the armies of
Charlemagne and the Saracens, they were of small account, and generally
on the soil of Spain. Thus the historical foundation for the stories of
the romancers is but scanty, unless we suppose the events of an earlier
and of a later age to be incorporated with those of Charlemagne's own
time.

There is, however, a pretended history, which for a long time was
admitted as authentic, and attributed to Turpin, Archbishop of Rheims,
a real personage of the time of Charlemagne. Its title is "History of
Charles the Great and Orlando." It is now unhesitatingly considered as
a collection of popular traditions, produced by some credulous and
unscrupulous monk, who thought to give dignity to his romance by
ascribing its authorship to a well-known and eminent individual. It
introduces its pretended author, Bishop Turpin, in this manner:

"Turpin, Archbishop of Rheims, the friend and secretary of Charles the
Great, excellently skilled in sacred and profane literature, of a
genius equally adapted to prose and verse, the advocate of the poor,
beloved of God in his life and conversation, who often fought the
Saracens, hand to hand, by the Emperor's side, he relates the acts of
Charles the Great in one book, and flourished under Charles and his son
Louis, to the year of our Lord eight hundred and thirty."

The titles of some of Archbishop Turpin's chapters will show the nature
of his history. They are these: "Of the Walls of Pampeluna, that fell
of themselves." "Of the War of the holy Facundus, where the Spears
grew." (Certain of the Christians fixed their spears in the evening,
erect in the ground, before the castle; and found them, in the morning,
covered with bark and branches.) "How the Sun stood still for Three
Days, and of the Slaughter of Four Thousand Saracens."

Turpin's history has perhaps been the source of the marvellous
adventures which succeeding poets and romancers have accumulated around
the names of Charlemagne and his Paladins, or Peers. But Ariosto and
the other Italian poets have drawn from different sources, and
doubtless often from their own invention, numberless other stories
which they attribute to the same heroes, not hesitating to quote as
their authority "the good Turpin," though his history contains no trace
of them; and the more outrageous the improbability, or rather the
impossibility, of their narrations, the more attentive are they to cite
"the Archbishop," generally adding their testimonial to his
unquestionable veracity.

The principal Italian poets who have sung the adventures of the peers
of Charlemagne are Pulci, Boiardo, and Ariosto. The characters of
Orlando, Rinaldo, Astolpho, Gano, and others, are the same in all,
though the adventures attributed to them are different. Boiardo tells
us of the loves of Orlando, Ariosto of his disappointment and
consequent madness, Pulci of his death.

Ogier, the Dane, is a real personage. History agrees with romance in
representing him as a powerful lord who, originally from Denmark and a
Pagan, embraced Christianity, and took service under Charlemagne. He
revolted from the Emperor, and was driven into exile. He afterwards led
one of those bands of piratical Northmen which ravaged France under the
reigns of Charlemagne's degenerate successors. The description which an
ancient chronicler gives of Charlemagne, as described by Ogier, is so
picturesque, that we are tempted to transcribe it. Charlemagne was
advancing to the siege of Pavia. Didier, King of the Lombards, was in
the city with Ogier, to whom he had given refuge. When they learned
that the king was approaching they mounted a high tower, whence they
could see far and wide over the country. "They first saw advancing the
engines of war, fit for the armies of Darius or Julius Caesar. 'There
is Charlemagne,' said Didier. 'No,' said Ogier. The Lombard next saw a
vast body of soldiers, who filled all the plain. 'Certainly Charles
advanced with that host,' said the king. 'Not yet,' replied Ogier.
'What hope for us,' resumed the king, 'if he brings with him a greater
host than that?' At last Charles appeared, his head covered with an
iron helmet, his hands with iron gloves, his breast and shoulders with
a cuirass of iron, his left hand holding an iron lance, while his right
hand grasped his sword. Those who went before the monarch, those who
marched at his side, and those who followed him, all had similar arms.
Iron covered the fields and the roads; iron points reflected the rays
of the sun. This iron, so hard, was borne by a people whose hearts were
harder still. The blaze of the weapons flashed terror into the streets
of the city."

This picture of Charlemagne in his military aspect would be incomplete
without a corresponding one of his "mood of peace." One of the greatest
of modern historians, M. Guizot, has compared the glory of Charlemagne
to a brilliant meteor, rising suddenly out of the darkness of barbarism
to disappear no less suddenly in the darkness of feudalism. But the
light of this meteor was not extinguished, and reviving civilization
owed much that was permanently beneficial to the great Emperor of the
Franks. His ruling hand is seen in the legislation of his time, as well
as in the administration of the laws. He encouraged learning; he upheld
the clergy, who were the only peaceful and intellectual class, against
the encroaching and turbulent barons; he was an affectionate father,
and watched carefully over the education of his children, both sons and
daughters. Of his encouragement of learning we will give some
particulars.

He caused learned men to be brought from Italy and from other foreign
countries to revive the public schools of France, which had been
prostrated by the disorders of preceding times. He recompensed these
learned men liberally, and kept some of them near himself, honoring
them with his friendship. Of these the most celebrated is Alcuin, an
Englishman, whose writings still remain, and prove him to have been
both a learned and a wise man. With the assistance of Alcuin, and
others like him, he founded an academy or royal school, which should
have the direction of the studies of all the schools of the kingdom.
Charlemagne himself was a member of this academy on equal terms with
the rest. He attended its meetings, and fulfilled all the duties of an
academician. Each member took the name of some famous man of antiquity.
Alcuin called himself Horace, another took the name of Augustin, a
third of Pindar. Charlemagne, who knew the Psalms by heart, and who had
an ambition to be, according to his conception, A KING AFTER GOD'S OWN
HEART, received from his brother academicians the name of David.

Of the respect entertained for him by foreign nations an interesting
proof is afforded in the embassy sent to him by the Caliph of the
Arabians, the celebrated Haroun al Raschid, a prince in character and
conduct not unlike to Charlemagne. The ambassadors brought with them,
besides other rich presents, a clock, the first that was seen in
Europe, which excited universal admiration. It had the form of a
twelve-sided edifice with twelve doors. These doors formed niches, in
each of which was a little statue representing one of the hours. At the
striking of the hour the doors, one for each stroke, was seen to open,
and from the doors to issue as many of the little statues, which,
following one another, marched gravely round the tower. The motion of
the clock was caused by water, and the striking was effected by balls
of brass equal to the number of the hours, which fell upon a cymbal of
the same metal, the number falling being determined by the discharge of
the water, which, as it sunk in the vessel, allowed their escape.

Charlemagne was succeeded by his son Louis, a well-intentioned but
feeble prince, in whose reign the fabric reared by Charles began
rapidly to crumble. Louis was followed successively by two Charleses,
incapable princes, whose weak and often tyrannical conduct is no doubt
the source of incidents of that character ascribed in the romances to
Charlemagne.

The lawless and disobedient deportment of Charles's paladins, instances
of which are so frequent in the romantic legends, was also a trait of
the declining empire, but not of that of Charlemagne.



THE PEERS, OR PALADINS

The twelve most illustrious knights of Charlemagne were called Peers,
for the equality that reigned among them; while the name of Paladins,
also conferred on them, implies that they were inmates of the palace
and companions of the king. Their names are always given alike by the
romancers, yet we may enumerate the most distinguished of them as
follows: Orlando or Roland (the former the Italian, the latter the
French form of the name), favorite nephew of Charlemagne; Rinaldo of
Montalban, cousin of Orlando; Namo, Duke of Bavaria; Salomon, king of
Brittany; Turpin, the Archbishop; Astolpho, of England; Ogier, the
Dane; Malagigi, the Enchanter; and Florismart, the friend of Orlando.
There were others who are sometimes named as paladins, and the number
cannot be strictly limited to twelve. Charlemagne himself must be
counted one, and Ganelon, or Gano, of Mayence, the treacherous enemy of
all the rest, was rated high on the list by his deluded sovereign, who
was completely the victim of his arts.

We shall introduce more particularly to our readers a few of the
principal peers, leaving the others to make their own introduction as
they appear in the course of our narrative. We begin with Orlando.



ORLANDO

Milon, or Milone, a knight of great family, and distantly related to
Charlemagne, having secretly married Bertha, the Emperor's sister, was
banished from France, and excommunicated by the Pope. After a long and
miserable wandering on foot as mendicants Milon and his wife arrived at
Sutri, in Italy, where they took refuge in a cave, and in that cave
Orlando was born. There his mother continued, deriving a scanty support
from the compassion of the neighboring peasants; while Milon, in quest
of honor and fortune, went into foreign lands. Orlando grew up among
the children of the peasantry, surpassing them all in strength and
manly graces. Among his companions in age, though in station far more
elevated, was Oliver, son of the governor of the town. Between the two
boys a feud arose that led to a fight, in which Orlando thrashed his
rival; but this did not prevent a friendship springing up between the
two, which lasted through life.

Orlando was so poor that he was sometimes half naked. As he was a
favorite of the boys, one day four of them brought some cloth to make
him clothes. Two brought white and two red; and from this circumstance
Orlando took his coat-of-arms, or quarterings.

When Charlemagne was on his way to Rome to receive the imperial crown
he dined in public in Sutri. Orlando and his mother that day had
nothing to eat, and Orlando coming suddenly upon the royal party, and
seeing abundance of provisions, seized from the attendants as much as
he could carry off, and made good his retreat in spite of their
resistance. The Emperor, being told of this incident, was reminded of
an intimation he had received in a dream, and ordered the boy to be
followed. This was done by three of the knights, whom Orlando would
have encountered with a cudgel on their entering the grotto, had not
his mother restrained him. When they heard from her who she was they
threw themselves at her feet, and promised to obtain her pardon from
the Emperor. This was easily effected. Orlando was received into favor
by the Emperor, returned with him to France, and so distinguished
himself that he became the most powerful support of the throne and of
Christianity. [Footnote: It is plain that Shakspeare borrowed from this
source the similar incident in his "As you Like it." The names of
characters in the play, Orlando, Oliver, Rowland indicate the same
thing.]



ROLAND AND FERRAGUS

Orlando, or Roland, particularly distinguished himself by his combat
with Ferragus. Ferragus was a giant, and moreover his skin was of such
impenetrable stuff that no sword could make any impression upon it. The
giant's mode of fighting was to seize his adversary in his arms and
carry him off, in spite of all the struggles he could make. Roland's
utmost skill only availed to keep him out of the giant's clutches, but
all his efforts to wound him with the sword were useless. After long
fighting Ferragus was so weary that he proposed a truce, and when it
was agreed upon he lay down and immediately fell asleep. He slept in
perfect security, for it was against all the laws of chivalry to take
advantage of an adversary under such circumstances. But Ferragus lay so
uncomfortably for the want of a pillow that Orlando took pity upon him,
and brought a smooth stone and placed it under his head. When the giant
woke up, after a refreshing nap, and perceived what Orlando had done,
he seemed quite grateful, became sociable, and talked freely in the
usual boastful style of such characters. Among other things he told
Orlando that he need not attempt to kill him with a sword, for that
every part of his body was invulnerable, except this; and as he spoke,
he put his hand to the vital part, just in the middle of his breast.
Aided by this information Orlando succeeded, when the fight was
renewed, in piercing the giant in the very spot he had pointed out, and
giving him a death-wound. Great was the rejoicing in the Christian
camp, and many the praises showered upon the victorious paladin by the
Emperor and all his host.

On another occasion Orlando encountered a puissant Saracen warrior, and
took from him, as the prize of victory, the sword Durindana. This
famous weapon had once belonged to the illustrious prince Hector of
Troy. It was of the finest workmanship, and of such strength and temper
that no armor in the world could stand against it.



A ROLAND FOR AN OLIVER

Guerin de Montglave held the lordship of Vienne, subject to
Charlemagne. He had quarrelled with his sovereign, and Charles laid
siege to his city, having ravaged the neighboring country. Guerin was
an aged warrior, but relied for his defence upon his four sons and two
grandsons, who were among the bravest knights of the age. After the
siege had continued two months Charlemagne received tidings that
Marsilius, king of Spain, had invaded France, and, finding himself
unopposed, was advancing rapidly in the Southern provinces. At this
intelligence Charles listened to the counsel of his peers, and
consented to put the quarrel with Guerin to the decision of Heaven, by
single combat between two knights, one of each party, selected by lot.
The proposal was acceptable to Guerin and his sons. The names of the
four, together with Guerin's own, who would not be excused, and of the
two grandsons, who claimed their lot, being put into a helmet, Oliver's
was drawn forth, and to him, the youngest of the grandsons, was
assigned the honor and the peril of the combat. He accepted the award
with delight, exulting in being thought worthy to maintain the cause of
his family. On Charlemagne's side Roland was the designated champion,
and neither he nor Oliver knew who his antagonist was to be.

They met on an island in the Rhone, and the warriors of both camps were
ranged on either shore, spectators of the battle. At the first
encounter both lances were shivered, but both riders kept their seats,
immovable. They dismounted, and drew their swords. Then ensued a combat
which seemed so equal, that the spectators could not form an opinion as
to the probable issue. Two hours and more the knights continued to
strike and parry, to thrust and ward, neither showing any sign of
weariness, nor ever being taken at unawares. At length Orlando struck
furiously upon Oliver's shield, burying Durindana in its edge so deeply
that he could not draw it back, and Oliver, almost at the same moment,
thrust so vigorously upon Orlando's breastplate that his sword snapped
off at the handle. Thus were the two warriors left weaponless. Scarcely
pausing a moment, they rushed upon one another, each striving to throw
his adversary to the ground, and failing in that, each snatched at the
other's helmet to tear it away. Both succeeded, and at the same moment
they stood bare-headed face to face, and Roland recognized Oliver, and
Oliver Roland. For a moment they stood still; and the next, with open
arms, rushed into one another's embrace. "I am conquered," said
Orlando. "I yield me." said Oliver.

The people on the shore knew not what to make of all this. Presently
they saw the two late antagonists standing hand in hand, and it was
evident the battle was at an end. The knights crowded round them, and
with one voice hailed them as equals in glory. If there were any who
felt disposed to murmur that the battle was left undecided they were
silenced by the voice of Ogier the Dane, who proclaimed aloud that all
had been done that honor required, and declared that he would maintain
that award against all gainsayers.

The quarrel with Guerin and his sons being left undecided, a truce was
made for four days, and in that time, by the efforts of Duke Namo on
the one side, and of Oliver on the other, a reconciliation was
effected. Charlemagne, accompanied by Guerin and his valiant family,
marched to meet Marsilius, who hastened to retreat across the frontier.



RINALDO

Rinaldo was one of the four sons of Aymon, who married Aya, the sister
of Charlemagne. Thus Rinaldo was nephew to Charlemagne and cousin of
Orlando.

When Rinaldo had grown old enough to assume arms Orlando had won for
himself an illustrious name by his exploits against the Saracens, whom
Charlemagne and his brave knights had driven out of France. Orlando's
fame excited a noble emulation in Rinaldo. Eager to go in pursuit of
glory, he wandered in the country near Paris, and one day saw at the
foot of a tree a superb horse, fully equipped and loaded with a
complete suit of armor. Rinaldo clothed himself in the armor and
mounted the horse, but took not the sword. On the day when, with his
brothers, he had received the honor of knighthood from the Emperor he
had sworn never to bind a sword to his side till he had wrested one
from some famous knight.

Rinaldo took his way to the forest of Arden, celebrated for so many
adventures. Hardly had he entered it when he met an old man, bending
under the weight of years, and learned from him that the forest was
infested with a wild horse, untamable, that broke and overturned
everything that opposed his career. To attack him, he said, or even to
meet him, was certain death. Rinaldo, far from being alarmed, showed
the most eager desire to combat the animal. This was the horse Bayard,
afterward so famous. He had formerly belonged to Amadis of Gaul. After
the death of that hero he had been held under enchantment by the power
of a magician, who predicted that, when the time came to break the
spell, he should be subdued by a knight of the lineage of Amadis, and
not less brave than he.

To win this wonderful horse it was necessary to conquer him by force or
skill; for from the moment when he should be thrown down he would
become docile and manageable. His habitual resort was a cave on the
borders of the forest; but woe be to any one who should approach him,
unless gifted with strength and courage more than mortal. Having told
this, the old man departed. He was not, in fact, an old man, but
Malagigi, the enchanter, cousin of Rinaldo, who, to favor the
enterprises of the young knight, had procured for him the horse and
armor which he so opportunely found, and now put him in the way to
acquire a horse unequalled in the world.

Rinaldo plunged into the forest, and spent many days in seeking Bayard,
but found no traces of him. One day he encountered a Saracen knight,
with whom he made acquaintance, as often happened to knights, by first
meeting him in combat. This knight, whose name was Isolier, was also in
quest of Bayard. Rinaldo succeeded in the encounter, and so severe was
the shock that Isolier was a long time insensible. When he revived, and
was about to resume the contest, a peasant who passed by (it was
Malagigi) interrupted them with the news that the terrible horse was
near at hand, advising them to unite their powers to subdue him, for it
would require all their ability.

Rinaldo and Isolier, now become friends, proceeded together to the
attack of the horse. They found Bayard, and stood a long time,
concealed by the wood, admiring his strength and beauty.

A bright bay in color (whence he was called Bayard), with a silver star
in his forehead, and his hind feet white, his body slender, his head
delicate, his ample chest filled out with swelling muscles, his
shoulders broad and full, his legs straight and sinewy, his thick mane
falling over his arching neck,--he came rushing through the forest,
regardless of rocks, bushes, or trees, rending everything that opposed
his way, and neighing defiance.

He first descried Isolier, and rushed upon him. The knight received him
with lance in rest, but the fierce animal broke the spear, and his
course was not delayed by it for an instant. The Spaniard adroitly
stepped aside, and gave way to the rushing tempest. Bayard checked his
career, and turned again upon the knight, who had already drawn his
sword. He drew his sword, for he had no hope of taming the horse; that,
he was satisfied, was impossible.

Bayard rushed upon him; fiercely rearing, now on this side, now on
that. The knight struck him with his sword, where the white star
adorned his forehead, but struck in vain, and felt ashamed, thinking
that he had struck feebly, for he did not know that the skin of that
horse was so tough that the keenest sword could make no impression upon
it.

Whistling fell the sword once more, and struck with greater force, and
the fierce horse felt it, and drooped his head under the blow, but the
next moment turned upon his foe with such a buffet that the Pagan fell
stunned and lifeless to the earth.

Rinaldo, who saw Isolier fall, and thought that his life was reft,
darted towards the horse, and, with his fist gave him such a blow on
the jaws that the blood tinged his mouth with vermilion. Quicker than
an arrow leaves the bow the horse turned upon him, and tried to seize
his arm with his teeth.

The knight stepped back, and then, repeating his blow, struck him on
the forehead. Bayard turned, and kicked with both his feet with a force
that would have shattered a mountain. Rinaldo was on his guard, and
evaded his attacks, whether made with head or heels. He kept at his
side avoiding both; but, making a false step, he at last received a
terrible blow from the horse's foot, and at the shock almost fainted
away. A second such blow would have killed him, but the horse kicked at
random, and a second blow did not reach Rinaldo, who in a moment
recovered himself. Thus the contest continued until by chance Bayard's
foot got caught between the branches of an oak. Rinaldo seized it and
putting forth all his strength and address, threw him on the ground.

No sooner had Bayard touched the ground than all his rage subsided. No
longer an object of terror, he became gentle and quiet, yet with
dignity in his mildness.

The paladin patted his neck, stroked his breast, and smoothed his mane,
while the animal neighed and showed delight to be caressed by his
master. Rinaldo, seeing him now completely subdued, took the saddle and
trappings from the other horse, and adorned Bayard with the spoils.

Rinaldo became one of the most illustrious knights of Charlemagne's
court,--indeed, the most illustrious, if we except Orlando. Yet he was
not always so obedient to the Emperor's commands as he should have
been, and every fault he committed was sure to be aggravated by the
malice of Gan, Duke of Maganza, the treacherous enemy of Rinaldo and
all his house.

At one time Rinaldo had incurred the severe displeasure of Charlemagne,
and been banished from court. Seeing no chance of being ever restored
to favor, he went to Spain, and entered into the service of the Saracen
king, Ivo. His brothers, Alardo, Ricardo, and Ricciardetto, accompanied
him, and all four served the king so faithfully that they rose to high
favor with him. The king gave them land in the mountains on the
frontiers of France and Spain, and subjected all the country round to
Rinaldo's authority. There was plenty of marble in the mountains, the
king furnished workmen, and they built a castle for Rinaldo, surrounded
with high walls, so as to be almost impregnable. Built of white stone,
and placed on the brow of a marble promontory, the castle shone like a
star, and Rinaldo gave it the name of Montalban. Here he assembled his
friends, many of whom were banished men like himself, and the country
people furnished them with provisions in return for the protection the
castle afforded. Yet some of Rinaldo's men were lawless, and sometimes
the supplies were not furnished in sufficient abundance, so that
Rinaldo and his garrison got a bad name for taking by force what they
could not obtain by gift; and we sometimes find Montalban spoken of as
a nest of freebooters, and its defenders called a beggarly garrison.

Charlemagne's displeasure did not last long, and, at the time our
history commences, Rinaldo and his brothers were completely restored to
the favor of the Emperor, and none of his cavaliers served him with
greater zeal and fidelity than they, throughout all his wars with the
Saracens and Pagans.



THE TOURNAMENT

It was the month of May, and the feast of Pentecost. Charlemagne had
ordered magnificent festivities, and summoned to them, besides his
paladins and vassals of the crown, all strangers, Christian or Saracen,
then sojourning at Paris. Among the guests were King Grandonio, from
Spain; and Ferrau, the Saracen, with eyes like an eagle; Orlando and
Rinaldo, the Emperor's nephews; Duke Namo; Astolpho, of England, the
handsomest man living; Malagigi, the Enchanter; and Gano, of Maganza,
that wily traitor, who had the art to make the Emperor think he loved
him, while he plotted against him.

High sat Charlemagne at the head of his vassals and his paladins,
rejoicing in the thought of their number and their might, while all
were sitting and hearing music, and feasting, when suddenly there came
into the hall four enormous giants, having between them a lady of
incomparable beauty, attended by a single knight. There were many
ladies present who had seemed beautiful till she made her appearance,
but after that they all seemed nothing. Every Christian knight turned
his eyes to her, and every Pagan crowded round her, while she, with a
sweetness that might have touched a heart of stone, thus addressed the
Emperor:

"High-minded lord, the renown of your worthiness, and of the valor of
these your knights, which echoes from sea to sea, encourages me to hope
that two pilgrims, who have come from the ends of the world to behold
you, will not have encountered their fatigue in vain. And, before I
show the motive which has brought us hither, learn that this knight is
my brother Uberto, and that I am his sister Angelica. Fame has told us
of the jousting this day appointed, and so the prince my brother has
come to prove his valor, and to say that, if any of the knights here
assembled choose to meet him in the joust, he will encounter them, one
by one, at the stair of Merlin, by the Fountain of the Pine. And his
conditions are these: No knight who chances to be thrown shall be
allowed to renew the combat, but shall remain prisoner to my brother;
but if my brother be overthrown he shall depart out of the country,
leaving me as the prize of the conqueror."

Now it must be stated that this Angelica and her brother, who called
himself Uberto, but whose real name was Argalia, were the children of
Galafron, king of Cathay, who had sent them to be the destruction of
the Christian host; for Argalia was armed with an enchanted lance,
which unfailingly overthrew everything it touched, and he was mounted
on a horse, a creature of magic, whose swiftness outstripped the wind.
Angelica possessed also a ring which was a defence against all
enchantments, and when put into the mouth rendered the bearer
invisible. Thus Argalia was expected to subdue and take prisoners
whatever knights should dare to encounter him; and the charms of
Angelica were relied on to entice the paladins to make the fatal
venture, while her ring would afford her easy means of escape.

When Angelica ceased sneaking she knelt before the king and awaited his
answer, and everybody gazed on her with admiration. Orlando especially
felt irresistibly drawn towards her, so that he trembled and changed
countenance. Every knight in the hall was infected with the same
feeling, not excepting old white-headed Duke Namo and Charlemagne
himself.

All stood for a while in silence, lost in the delight of looking at
her. The fiery youth Ferrau could hardly restrain himself from seizing
her from the giants and carrying her away; Rinaldo turned as red as
fire, while Malagigi, who had discovered by his art that the stranger
was not speaking truth, muttered softly, as he looked at her,
"Exquisite false creature! I will play thee such a trick for this, as
will leave thee no cause to boast of thy visit."

Charlemagne, to detain her as long as possible before him, delayed his
assent till he had asked her a number of questions, all which she
answered discreetly, and then the challenge was accepted.

As soon as she was gone Malagigi consulted his book, and found out the
whole plot of the vile, infidel king, Galafron, as we have explained
it, so he determined to seek the damsel and frustrate her designs. He
hastened to the appointed spot, and there found the prince and his
sister in a beautiful pavilion, where they lay asleep, while the four
giants kept watch. Malagigi took his book and cast a spell out of it,
and immediately the four giants fell into a deep sleep. Drawing his
sword (for he was a belted knight), he softly approached the young
lady, intending to despatch her at once; but, seeing her look so
lovely, he paused for a moment, thinking there was no need of hurry, as
he believed his spell was upon her, and she could not wake. But the
ring which she wore secured her from the effect of the spell, and some
slight noise, or whatever else it was, caused her at that moment to
awake. She uttered a great cry, and flew to her brother, and waked him.
By the help of her knowledge of enchantment, they took and bound fast
the magician, and, seizing his book, turned his arts against himself.
Then they summoned a crowd of demons, and bade them seize their
prisoner and bear him to King Galafron, at his great city of Albracca,
which they did, and, on his arrival, he was locked up in a rock under
the sea.

While these things were going on all was uproar at Paris, since Orlando
insisted upon being the first to try the adventure at the stair of
Merlin. This was resented by the other pretenders to Angelica, and all
contested his right to the precedence. The tumult was stilled by the
usual expedient of drawing lots, and the first prize was drawn by
Astolpho. Ferrau, the Saracen, had the second, and Grandonio the third.
Next came Berlinghieri, and Otho; then Charles himself, and, as his
ill-fortune would have it, after thirty more, the indignant Orlando.

Astolpho, who drew the first lot, was handsome, brave, and rich. But,
whether from heedlessness or want of skill, he was an unlucky jouster,
and very apt to be thrown, an accident which he bore with perfect
good-humor, always ready to mount again and try to mend his fortune,
generally with no better success.

Astolpho went forth upon his adventure with great gayety of dress and
manner, encountered Argalia, and was immediately tilted out of the
saddle. He railed at fortune, to whom he laid all the fault; but his
painful feelings were somewhat relieved by the kindness of Angelica,
who, touched by his youth and good looks, granted him the liberty of
the pavilion, and caused him to be treated with all kindness and
respect.

The violent Ferrau had the next chance in the encounter, and was thrown
no less speedily than Astolpho; but he did not so easily put up with
his mischance. Crying out, "What are the emperor's engagements to me?"
he rushed with his sword against Argalia, who, being forced to defend
himself, dismounted and drew his sword, but got so much the worse of
the fight that he made a signal of surrender, and, after some words,
listened to a proposal of marriage from Ferrau to his sister. The
beauty, however, feeling no inclination to match with such a rough and
savage-looking person, was so dismayed at the offer, that, hastily
bidding her brother to meet her in the forest of Arden, she vanished
from the sight of both by means of the enchanted ring. Argalia, seeing
this, took to his horse of swiftness, and dashed away in the same
direction. Ferrau pursued him, and Astolpho, thus left to himself, took
possession of the enchanted lance in place of his own, which was
broken, not knowing the treasure he possessed in it, and returned to
the tournament. Charlemagne, finding the lady and her brother gone,
ordered the jousting to proceed as at first intended, in which
Astolpho, by aid of the enchanted lance, unhorsed all comers against
him, equally to their astonishment and his own.

The paladin Rinaldo, on learning the issue of the combat of Ferrau and
the stranger, galloped after the fair fugitive in an agony of love and
impatience. Orlando, perceiving his disappearance, pushed forth in like
manner; and, at length, all three are in the forest of Arden, hunting
about for her who is invisible.

Now in this forest there were two fountains, the one constructed by the
sage Merlin, who designed it for Tristram and the fair Isoude;
[Footnote: See their story in "King Arthur and His Knights."] for such
was the virtue of this fountain, that a draught of its waters produced
on oblivion of the love which the drinker might feel, and even produced
aversion for the object formerly beloved. The other fountain was
endowed with exactly opposite qualities, and a draught of it inspired
love for the first living object that was seen after tasting it.
Rinaldo happened to come to the first mentioned fountain, and, being
flushed with heat, dismounted, and quenched in one draught both his
thirst and his passion. So far from loving Angelica as before he hated
her from the bottom of his heart, became disgusted with the search he
was upon, and, feeling fatigued with his ride, finding a sheltered and
flowery nook, laid himself down and fell asleep.

Shortly after came Angelica, but, approaching in a different direction,
she espied the other fountain, and there quenched her thirst. Then
resuming her way, she came upon the sleeping Rinaldo. Love instantly
seized her, and she stood rooted to the spot.

The meadow round was all full of lilies of the valley and wild roses.
Angelica, not knowing what to do, at length plucked a handful of these,
and dropped them, one by one, on the face of the sleeper. He woke up,
and, seeing who it was, received her salutations with averted
countenance, remounted his horse, and galloped away. In vain the
beautiful creature followed and called after him, in vain asked him
what she had done to be so despised. Rinaldo disappeared, leaving her
in despair, and she returned in tears to the spot where she had found
him sleeping. There, in her turn, she herself lay down, pressing the
spot of earth on which he had lain, and, out of fatigue and sorrow,
fell asleep.

As Angelica thus lay, fortune conducted Orlando to the same place. The
attitude in which she was sleeping was so lovely that it is not to be
conceived, much less expressed. Orlando stood gazing like a man who had
been transported to another sphere. "Am I on earth," he exclaimed, "or
am I in Paradise? Surely it is I that sleep, and this is my dream."

But his dream was proved to be none in a manner which he little
desired. Ferrau, who had slain Argalia, came up, raging with jealousy,
and a combat ensued which awoke the sleeper.

Terrified at what she beheld, she rushed to her palfrey, and, while the
fighters were occupied with one another, fled away through the forest.
The champions continued their fight till they were interrupted by a
messenger, who brought word to Ferrau that king Marsilius, his
sovereign, was in pressing need of his assistance, and conjured him to
return to Spain. Ferrau, upon this, proposed to suspend the combat, to
which Orlando, eager to pursue Angelica, agreed. Ferrau, on the other
hand, departed with the messenger to Spain.

Orlando's quest for the fair fugitive was all in vain. Aided by the
powers of magic, she made a speedy return to her own country.

But the thought of Rinaldo could not be banished from her mind, and she
determined to set Malagigi at liberty, and to employ him to win
Rinaldo, if possible, to make her a return of affection. She
accordingly freed him from his dungeon, unlocking his fetters with her
own hands, and restored him his book, promising him ample honors and
rewards on condition of his bringing Rinaldo to her feet.

Malagigi accordingly, with the aid of his book, called up a demon,
mounted him, and departed. Arrived at his destination, he inveigled
Rinaldo into an enchanted bark, which conveyed him, without any visible
pilot, to an island where stood an edifice called Joyous Castle. The
whole island was a garden. On the western side, close to the sea, was
the palace, built of marble, so clear and polished that it reflected
the landscape about it. Rinaldo leapt ashore, and soon met a lady, who
invited him to enter. The house was as beautiful within as without,
full of rooms adorned with azure and gold, and with noble paintings.
The lady led the knight into an apartment painted with stories, and
opening to the garden, through pillars of crystal, with golden
capitals. Here he found a bevy of ladies, three of whom were singing in
concert, while another played on an instrument of exquisite accord, and
the rest danced round about them. When the ladies beheld him coming
they turned the dance into a circuit round him, and then one of them,
in the sweetest manner, said, "Sir knight, the tables are set, and the
hour for the banquet is come;" and, with these words, still dancing,
they drew him across the lawn in front of the apartment, to a table
that was spread with cloth of gold and fine linen, under a bower of
damask roses by the side of a fountain.

Four ladies were already seated there, who rose, and placed Rinaldo at
their head, in a chair set with pearls. And truly indeed was he
astonished. A repast ensued, consisting of viands the most delicate,
and wines as fragrant as they were fine, drunk out of jewelled cups;
and, when it drew towards its conclusion, harps and lutes were heard in
the distance, and one of the ladies said in the knight's ear: "This
house and all that you see in it are yours; for you alone was it built,
and the builder is a queen. Happy indeed must you think yourself, for
she loves you, and she is the greatest beauty in the world! Her name is
Angelica."

The moment Rinaldo heard the name he so detested he started up, with a
changed countenance, and, in spite of all that the lady could say,
broke off across the garden, and never ceased hastening till he reached
the place where he landed. The bark was still on the shore. He sprang
into it, and pushed off, though he saw nobody in it but himself. It was
in vain for him to try to control its movements, for it dashed on as if
in fury, till it reached a distant shore covered with a gloomy forest.
Here Rinaldo, surrounded by enchantments of a very different sort from
those which he had lately resisted, was entrapped into a pit.

The pit belonged to a castle called Altaripa, which was hung with human
heads, and painted red with blood. As the paladin was viewing the scene
with amazement a hideous old woman made her appearance at the edge of
the pit, and told him that he was destined to be thrown to a monster,
who was only kept from devastating the whole country by being supplied
with living human flesh. Rinaldo said, "Be it so; let me but remain
armed as I am, and I fear nothing." The old woman laughed in derision.
Rinaldo remained in the pit all night, and the next morning was taken
to the place where the monster had his den. It was a court surrounded
by a high wall. Rinaldo was shut in with the beast, and a terrible
combat ensued. Rinaldo was unable to make any impression on the scales
of the monster, while he, on the contrary, with his dreadful claws,
tore away plate and mail from the paladin. Rinaldo began to think his
last hour was come, and cast his eyes around and above to see if there
was any means of escape. He perceived a beam projecting from the wall
at the height of some ten feet, and, taking a leap almost miraculous,
he succeeded in reaching it, and in flinging himself up across it. Here
he sat for hours, the hideous brute continually trying to reach him.
All at once he heard the sound of something coming through the air like
a bird, and suddenly Angelica herself alighted on the end of the beam.
She held something in her hand towards him, and spoke to him in a
loving voice. But the moment Rinaldo saw her he commanded her to go
away, refused all her offers of assistance, and at length declared
that, if she did not leave him, he would cast himself down to the
monster, and meet his fate.

Angelica, saying she would lose her life rather than displease him,
departed; but first she threw to the monster a cake of wax she had
prepared, and spread around him a rope knotted with nooses. The beast
took the bait, and, finding his teeth glued together by the wax, vented
his fury in bounds and leaps, and, soon getting entangled in the
nooses, drew them tight by his struggles, so that he could scarcely
move a limb.

Rinaldo, watching his chance, leapt down upon his back, seized him
round the neck, and throttled him, not relaxing his gripe till the
beast fell dead.

Another difficulty remained to be overcome. The walls were of immense
height, and the only opening in them was a grated window of such
strength that he could not break the bars. In his distress Rinaldo
found a file, which Angelica had left on the ground, and, with the help
of this, effected his deliverance.

What further adventures he met with will be told in another chapter.



THE SIEGE OF ALBRACCA

At the very time when Charlemagne was holding his plenary court and his
great tournament his kingdom was invaded by a mighty monarch, who was
moreover so valiant and strong in battle that no one could stand
against him. He was named Gradasso, and his kingdom was called
Sericane. Now, as it often happens to the greatest and the richest to
long for what they cannot have, and thus to lose what they already
possess, this king could not rest content without Durindana, the sword
of Orlando, and Bayard, the horse of Rinaldo. To obtain these he
determined to war upon France, and for this purpose put in array a
mighty army.

He took his way through Spain, and, after defeating Marsilius, the king
of that country, in several battles, was rapidly advancing on France.
Charlemagne, though Marsilius was a Saracen, and had been his enemy,
yet felt it needful to succor him in this extremity from a
consideration of common danger, and, with the consent of his peers,
despatched Rinaldo with a strong body of soldiers against Gradasso.

There was much fighting, with doubtful results, and Gradasso was
steadily advancing into France. But, impatient to achieve his objects,
he challenged Rinaldo to single combat, to be fought on foot, and upon
these conditions: If Rinaldo conquered, Gradasso agreed to give up all
his prisoners and return to his own country; but if Gradasso won the
day, he was to have Bayard.

The challenge was accepted, and would have been fought had it not been
for the arts of Malagigi, who just then returned from Angelica's
kingdom with set purpose to win Rinaldo to look with favor upon the
fair princess who was dying for love of him. Malagigi drew Rinaldo away
from the army by putting on the semblance of Gradasso, and, after a
short contest, pretending to fly before him, by which means Rinaldo was
induced to follow him into a boat, in which he was borne away, and
entangled in various adventures, as we have already related.

The army, left under the command of Ricciardetto, Rinaldo's brother,
was soon joined by Charlemagne and all his peerage, but experienced a
disastrous rout, and the Emperor and many of his paladins were taken
prisoners. Gradasso, however, did not abuse his victory; he took
Charles by the hand, seated him by his side, and told him he warred
only for honor. He renounced all conquests, on condition that the
Emperor should deliver to him Bayard and Durindana, both of them the
property of his vassals, the former of which, as he maintained, was
already forfeited to him by Rinaldo's failure to meet him as agreed. To
these terms Charlemagne readily acceded.

Bayard, after the departure of his master, had been taken in charge by
Ricciardetto, and sent back to Paris, where Astolpho was in command, in
the absence of Charlemagne. Astolpho received with great indignation
the message despatched for Bayard, and replied by a herald that "he
would not surrender the horse of his kinsman Rinaldo without a contest.
If Gradasso wanted the steed he might come and take him, and that he,
Astolpho, was ready to meet him in the field."

Gradasso was only amused at this answer, for Astolpho's fame as a
successful warrior was not high, and Gradasso willingly renewed with
him the bargain which he had made with Rinaldo. On these conditions the
battle was fought. The enchanted lance, in the hands of Astolpho,
performed a new wonder; and Gradasso, the terrible Gradasso, was
unhorsed.

He kept his word, set free his prisoners, and put his army on the march
to return to his own country, renewing his oath, however, not to rest
till he had taken from Rinaldo his horse, and from Orlando his sword,
or lost his life in the attempt.

Charlemagne, full of gratitude to Astolpho, would have kept him near
his person and loaded him with honors, but Astolpho preferred to seek
Rinaldo, with the view of restoring to him his horse, and departed from
Paris with that design.

Our story now returns to Orlando, whom we left fascinated with the
sight of the sleeping beauty, who, however, escaped him while engaged
in the combat with Ferrau. Having long sought her in vain through the
recesses of the wood, he resolved to follow her to her father's court.
Leaving, therefore, the camp of Charlemagne, he travelled long in the
direction of the East, making inquiry everywhere, if, perchance, he
might get tidings of the fugitive. After many adventures, he arrived
one day at a place where many roads crossed, and meeting there a
courier, he asked him for news. The courier replied that he had been
despatched by Angelica to solicit the aid of Sacripant, king of
Circassia, in favor of her father Galafron, who was besieged in his
city, Albracca, by Agrican, king of Tartary. This Agrican had been an
unsuccessful suitor to the damsel, whom he now pursued with arms.
Orlando thus learned that he was within a day's journey of Albracca;
and, feeling now secure of Angelica, he proceeded with all speed to her
city.

Thus journeying he arrived at a bridge, under which flowed a foaming
river. Here a damsel met him with a goblet, and informed him that it
was the usage of this bridge to present the traveller with a cup.
Orlando accepted the offered cup and drank its contents. He had no
sooner done so than his brain reeled, and he became unconscious of the
object of his journey, and of everything else. Under the influence of
this fascination he followed the damsel into a magnificent and
marvellous palace. Here he found himself in company with many knights,
unknown to him and to each other, though if it had not been for the Cup
of Oblivion of which they all had partaken they would have found
themselves brothers in arms.

Astolpho, proceeding on his way to seek Rinaldo, splendidly dressed and
equipped, as was his wont, arrived in Circassia, and found there a
great army encamped under the command of Sacripant, the king of that
country, who was leading it to the defence of Galafron, the father of
Angelica. Sacripant, much struck by the appearance of Astolpho and his
horse, accosted him courteously, and tried to enlist him in his
service; but Astolpho, proud of his late victories, scornfully declined
his offers, and pursued his way. King Sacripant was too much attracted
by his appearance to part with him so easily, and having laid aside his
kingly ornaments, set out in pursuit of him.

Astolpho next day encountered on his way a stranger knight, named Sir
Florismart, Lord of the Sylvan Tower, one of the bravest and best of
knights, having as his guide a damsel, young, fair, and virtuous, to
whom he was tenderly attached, whose name was Flordelis. Astolpho, as
he approached, defied the knight, bidding him yield the lady, or
prepare to maintain his right by arms. Florismart accepted the contest,
and the knights encountered. Florismart was unhorsed and his steed fell
dead, while Bayard sustained no injury by the shock.

Florismart was so overwhelmed with despair at his own disgrace and the
sight of the damsel's distress, that he drew his sword, and was about
to plunge it into his own bosom. But Astolpho held his hand, told him
that he contended only for glory, and was contented to leave him the
lady.

While Florismart and Flordelis were vowing eternal gratitude King
Sacripant arrived, and coveting the damsel of the one champion as much
as the horse and arms of the other, defied them to the joust. Astolpho
met the challenger, whom he instantly overthrew, and presented his
courser to Florismart, leaving the king to return to his army on foot.

The friends pursued their route, and ere long Flordelis discovered, by
signs which were known to her, that they were approaching the waters of
Oblivion, and advised them to turn back, or to change their course.
This the knights would not hear of, and, continuing their march, they
soon arrived at the bridge where Orlando had been taken prisoner.

The damsel of the bridge appeared as before with the enchanted cup, but
Astolpho, forewarned, rejected it with scorn. She dashed it to the
ground, and a fire blazed up which rendered the bridge unapproachable.
At the same moment the two knights were assailed by sundry warriors,
known and unknown, who, having no recollection of anything, joined
blindly in defence of their prison-house. Among these was Orlando, at
sight of whom Astolpho, with all his confidence not daring to encounter
him, turned and fled, owing his escape to the strength and fleetness of
Bayard.

Florismart, meanwhile, overlaid by fearful odds, was compelled to yield
to necessity, and comply with the usage of the fairy. He drank of the
cup and remained prisoner with the rest. Flordelis, deprived of her two
friends, retired from the scene, and devoted herself to untiring
efforts to effect her lover's deliverance. Astolpho pursued his way to
Albracca, which Agrican was about to besiege. He was kindly welcomed by
Angelica, and enrolled among her defenders. Impatient to distinguish
himself, he one night sallied forth alone, arrived in Agrican's camp,
and unhorsed his warriors right and left by means of the enchanted
lance. But he was soon surrounded and overmatched, and made prisoner to
Agrican.

Relief was, however, at hand; for as the citizens and soldiers were one
day leaning over their walls they descried a cloud of dust, from which
horsemen were seen to prick forth, as it rolled on towards the camp of
the besiegers. This turned out to be the army of Sacripant, which
immediately attacked that of Agrican, with the view of cutting a
passage through his camp to the besieged city. But Agrican, mounted
upon Bayard, taken from Astolpho, but not armed with the lance of gold,
the virtues of which were unknown to him, performed wonders, and
rallied his scattered troops, which had given way to the sudden and
unexpected assault. Sacripant, on the other hand, encouraged his men by
the most desperate acts of valor, having as an additional incentive to
his courage the sight of Angelica, who showed herself upon the city
walls.

There she witnessed a single combat between the two leaders, Agrican
and Sacripant. In this, at length, her defender appeared to be
overmatched, when the Circassians broke the ring, and separated the
combatants, who were borne asunder in the rush. Sacripant, severely
wounded, profited by the confusion, and escaped into Albracca, where he
was kindly received and carefully tended by Angelica.

The battle continuing, the Circassians were at last put to flight, and,
being intercepted between the enemy's lines and the town, sought for
refuge under the walls. Angelica ordered the drawbridge to be let down,
and the gates thrown open to the fugitives. With these Agrican, not
distinguished in the crowd, entered the place, driving both Circassians
and Cathayans before him, and the portcullis being dropped, he was shut
in.

For a time the terror which he inspired put to flight all opposers, but
when at last it came to be known that few or none of his followers had
effected an entrance with him, the fugitives rallied and surrounded him
on all sides. While he was thus apparently reduced to the last
extremities, he was saved by the very circumstance which threatened him
with destruction. The soldiers of Angelica, closing upon him from all
sides, deserted their defences; and his own besieging army entered the
city in a part where the wall was broken down.

In this way was Agrican rescued, the city taken, and the inhabitants
put to the sword. Angelica, however, with some of the knights who were
her defenders, among whom was Sacripant, saved herself in the citadel,
which was planted upon a rock.

The fortress was impregnable, but it was scantily victualled, and ill
provided with other necessaries. Under these circumstances Angelica
announced to those blockaded with her in the citadel her intention to
go in quest of assistance, and, having plighted her promise of a speedy
return, she set out, with the enchanted ring upon her finger. Mounted
upon her palfrey, the damsel passed through the enemy's lines, and by
sunrise was many miles clear of their encampment.

It so happened that her road led her near the fatal bridge of Oblivion,
and as she approached it she met a damsel weeping bitterly. It was
Flordelis, whose lover, Florismart, as we have related, had met the
fate of Orlando and many more, and fallen a victim to the enchantress
of the cup. She related her adventures to Angelica, and conjured her to
lend what aid she might to rescue her lord and his companions.
Angelica, accordingly, watching her opportunity and aided by her ring,
slipped into the castle unseen, when the door was opened to admit a new
victim. Here she speedily disenchanted Orlando and the rest by a touch
of her talisman. But Florismart was not there. He had been given up to
Falerina, a more powerful enchantress, and was still in durance.
Angelica conjured the rescued captives to assist her in the recovery of
her kingdom, and all departed together for Albracca.

The arrival of Orlando, with his companions, nine in all, and among the
bravest knights of France, changed at once the fortunes of the war.
Wherever the great paladin came, pennon and standard fell before him.
Agrican in vain attempted to rally his troops. Orlando kept constantly
in his front, forcing him to attend to nobody else. The Tartar king at
length bethought him of a stratagem. He turned his horse, and made a
show of flying in despair. Orlando dashed after him as he desired, and
Agrican fled till he reached a green place in a wood, where there was a
fountain.

The place was beautiful, and the Tartar dismounted to refresh himself
at the fountain, but without taking off his helmet, or laying aside any
of his armor. Orlando was quickly at his back, crying out, "So bold,
and yet a fugitive! How could you fly from a single arm and think to
escape?"

The Tartar king had leaped on his saddle the moment he saw his enemy,
and when the paladin had done speaking, he said in a mild voice,
"Without doubt you are the best knight I ever encountered, and fain
would I leave you untouched for your own sake, if you would cease to
hinder me from rallying my people. I pretended to fly, in order to
bring you out of the field. If you insist upon fighting I must needs
fight and slay you, but I call the sun in the heavens to witness I
would rather not. I should be very sorry for your death."

The Count Orlando felt pity for so much gallantry, and he said, "The
nobler you show yourself the more it grieves me to think that in dying
without a knowledge of the true faith you will be lost in the other
world. Let me advise you to save body and soul at once. Receive
baptism, and go your way in peace."

Agrican replied: "I suspect you to be the paladin Orlando. If you are I
would not lose this opportunity of fighting with you to be king of
Paradise. Talk to me no more about your things of another world, for
you will preach in vain. Each of us for himself, and let the sword be
umpire."

The Saracen drew his sword, boldly advancing upon Orlando, and a combat
began, so obstinate and so long, each warrior being a miracle of
prowess, that the story says it lasted from noon till night. Orlando
then seeing the stars come out was the first to propose a respite.

"What are we to do," said he, "now that daylight has left us?"

Agrican answered readily enough, "Let us repose in this meadow, and
renew the combat at dawn."

The repose was taken accordingly. Each tied up his horse, and reclined
himself on the grass, not far from the other, just as if they had been
friends, Orlando by the fountain, Agrican beneath a pine. It was a
beautiful clear night, and, as they talked together before addressing
themselves to sleep, the champion of Christendom, looking up at the
firmament, said, "That is a fine piece of workmanship, that starry
spectacle; God made it all, that moon of silver, and those stars of
gold, and the light of day, and the sun,--all for the sake of human
kind."

"You wish, I see, to talk of matters of faith," said the Tartar. "Now I
may as well tell you at once that I have no sort of skill in such
matters, nor learning of any kind. I never could learn anything when I
was a boy. I hated it so that I broke the man's head who was
commissioned to teach me; and it produced such an effect on others that
nobody ever afterwards dared so much as show me a book. My boyhood was
therefore passed, as it should be, in horsemanship and hunting, and
learning to fight. What is the good of a gentleman's poring all day
over a book? Prowess to the knight, and preaching to the clergyman,
that is my motto."

"I acknowledge," returned Orlando, "that arms are the first
consideration of a gentleman; but not at all that he does himself
dishonor by knowledge. On the contrary, knowledge is as great an
embellishment of the rest of his attainments, as the flowers are to the
meadow before us; and as to the knowledge of his Maker, the man that is
without it is no better than a stock or a stone or a brute beast.
Neither without study can he reach anything of a due sense of the depth
and divineness of the contemplation."

"Learned or not learned," said Agrican, "you might show yourself better
bred than by endeavoring to make me talk on a subject on which you have
me at a disadvantage. If you choose to sleep I wish you good night; but
if you prefer talking I recommend you to talk of fighting or of fair
ladies. And, by the way, pray tell me, are you not that Orlando who
makes such a noise in the world? And what is it, pray, that brings you
into these parts? Were you ever in love? I suppose you must have been;
for to be a knight, and never to have been in love, would be like being
a man without a heart in his breast."

The count replied: "Orlando I am, and in love I am. Love has made me
abandon everything, and brought me into these distant regions, and, to
tell you all in one word, my heart is in the hands of the daughter of
King Galafron. You have come against him with fire and sword, to get
possession of his castles and his dominions; and I have come to help
him, for no object in the world but to please his daughter and win her
beautiful hand. I care for nothing else in existence."

Now when the Tartar king, Agrican, heard his antagonist speak in this
manner, and knew him to be indeed Orlando, and to be in love with
Angelica, his face changed color for grief and jealousy, though it
could not be seen for the darkness. His heart began beating with such
violence that he felt as if he should have died. "Well," said he to
Orlando, "we are to fight when it is daylight, and one or other is to
be left here, dead on the ground. I have a proposal to make to
you--nay, an entreaty. My love is so excessive for the same lady that I
beg you to leave her to me. I will owe you my thanks, and give up the
siege and put an end to the war. I cannot bear that any one should love
her, and that I should live to see it. Why, therefore, should either of
us perish? Give her up. Not a soul shall know it."

"I never yet," answered Orlando, "made a promise which I did not keep,
and nevertheless I own to you that, were I to make a promise like that,
and even swear to keep it, I should not. You might as well ask me to
tear away the limbs from my body, and the eyes out of my head. I could
as well live without breath itself as cease loving Angelica."

Agrican had hardly patience to let him finish speaking, ere he leapt
furiously on horseback, though it was midnight. "Quit her," said he,
"or die!"

Orlando seeing the infidel getting up, and not being sure that he would
not add treachery to fierceness, had been hardly less quick in mounting
for the combat. "Never," exclaimed he; "I never could have quitted her
if I would, and now I would not if I could. You must seek her by other
means than these."

Fiercely dashed their horses together, in the nighttime, on the green
mead. Despiteful and terrible were the blows they gave and took by the
moonlight. Agrican fought in a rage, Orlando was cooler. And now the
struggle had lasted more than five hours, and day began to dawn, when
the Tartar king, furious to find so much trouble given him, dealt his
enemy a blow sharp and violent beyond conception. It cut the shield in
two as if it had been made of wood, and, though blood could not be
drawn from Orlando, because he was fated, it shook and bruised him as
if it had started every joint in his body.

His body only, however, not a particle of his soul. So dreadful was the
blow which the paladin gave in return, that not only shield, but every
bit of mail on the body of Agrican was broken in pieces, and three of
his ribs cut asunder.

The Tartar, roaring like a lion, raised his sword with still greater
vehemence than before, and dealt a blow on the paladin's helmet, such
as he had never yet received from mortal man. For a moment it took away
his senses. His sight failed, his ears tingled, his frightened horse
turned about to fly; and he was falling from the saddle, when the very
action of falling threw his head upwards, and thus recalled his
recollection.

"What a shame is this!" thought he; "how shall I ever again dare to
face Angelica! I have been fighting hour after hour with this man, and
he is but one, and I call myself Orlando! If the combat last any longer
I will bury myself in a monastery, and never look on sword again."

Orlando muttered with his lips closed and his teeth ground together;
and you might have thought that fire instead of breath came out of his
nose and mouth. He raised his sword Durindana with both his hands, and
sent it down so tremendously on Agrican's shoulder that it cut through
breastplate down to the very haunch, nay, crushed the saddle-bow,
though it was made of bone and iron, and felled man and horse to the
earth. Agrican turned as white as ashes, and felt death upon him. He
called Orlando to come close to him, with a gentle voice, and said, as
well as he could: "I believe on Him who died on the cross. Baptize me,
I pray thee, with the fountain, before my senses are gone. I have lived
an evil life, but need not be rebellious to God in death also. May He
who came to save all the rest of the world save me!" And he shed tears,
that great king, though he had been so lofty and fierce.

Orlando dismounted quickly, with his own face in tears. He gathered the
king tenderly in his arms, and took and laid him by the fountain, on a
marble rim that it had, and then he wept in concert with him heartily,
and asked his pardon, and so baptized him in the water of the fountain,
and knelt and prayed to God for him with joined hands.

He then paused and looked at him; and when he perceived his countenance
changed, and that his whole person was cold, he left him there on the
marble rim of the fountain, all armed as he was, with the sword by his
side, and the crown upon his head.



ADVENTURES OF RINALDO AND ORLANDO

We left Rinaldo when, having overcome the monster, he quitted the
castle of Altaripa, and pursued his way on foot. He soon met with a
weeping damsel, who, being questioned as to the cause of her sorrow,
told him she was in search of one to do battle to rescue her lover, who
had been made prisoner by a vile enchantress, together with Orlando and
many more. The damsel was Flordelis, the lady-love of Florismart, and
Rinaldo promised his assistance, trusting to accomplish the adventure
either by valor or skill. Flordelis insisted upon Rinaldo's taking her
horse, which he consented to do, on condition of her mounting behind
him.

As they rode on through a wood, they heard strange noises, and Rinaldo,
reassuring the damsel, pressed forward towards the quarter from which
they proceeded. He soon perceived a giant standing under a vaulted
cavern, with a huge club in his hand, and of an appearance to strike
the boldest spirit with dread. By the side of the cavern was chained a
griffin, which, together with the giant, was stationed there to guard a
wonderful horse, the same which was once Argalia's. This horse was a
creature of enchantment, matchless in vigor, speed, and form, which
disdained to share the diet of his fellow-steeds,--corn or grass,--and
fed only on air. His name was Rabican.

This marvellous horse, after his master Argalia had been slain by
Ferrau, finding himself at liberty, returned to his native cavern, and
was here stabled under the protection of the giant and the griffin. As
Rinaldo approached, the giant assailed him with his club. Rinaldo
defended himself from the giant's blows, and gave him one in return,
which, if his skin had not been of the toughest, would have finished
the combat. But the giant, though wounded, escaped, and let loose the
griffin. This monstrous bird towered in air, and thence pounced down
upon Rinaldo, who, watching his opportunity, dealt her a desperate
wound. She had, however, strength for another flight, and kept
repeating her attacks, which Rinaldo parried as he could, while the
damsel stood trembling by, witnessing the contest.

The battle continued, rendered more terrible by the approach of night,
when Rinaldo determined upon a desperate expedient to bring it to a
conclusion. He fell, as if fainting from his wounds, and, on the close
approach of the griffin, dealt her a blow which sheared away one of her
wings. The beast, though sinking, griped him fast with her talons,
digging through plate and mail; but Rinaldo plied his sword in utter
desperation, and at last accomplished her destruction.

Rinaldo then entered the cavern, and found there the wonderful horse,
all caparisoned. He was coal-black, except for a star of white on his
forehead, and one white foot behind. For speed he was unrivalled,
though in strength he yielded to Bayard. Rinaldo mounted upon Rabican,
and issued from the cavern.

As he pursued his way he met a fugitive from Agrican's army, who gave
such an account of the prowess of a champion who fought on the side of
Angelica, that Rinaldo was persuaded this must be Orlando, though at a
loss to imagine how he could have been freed from captivity. He
determined to repair to the scene of the contest to satisfy his
curiosity, and Flordelis, hoping to find Florismart with Orlando,
consented to accompany him.

While these things were doing, all was rout and dismay in the Tartarian
army, from the death of Agrican. King Galafron, arriving at this
juncture with an army for the relief of his capital, Albracca,
assaulted the enemy's camp, and carried all before him. Rinaldo had now
reached the scene of action, and was looking on as an unconcerned
spectator, when he was espied by Galafron. The king instantly
recognized the horse Rabican, which he had given to Argalia when he
sent him forth on his ill-omened mission to Paris. Possessed with the
idea that the rider of the horse was the murderer of Argalia, Galafron
rode at Rinaldo, and smote him with all his force. Rinaldo was not slow
to avenge the blow, and it would have gone hard with the king had not
his followers instantly closed round him and separated the combatants.

Rinaldo thus found himself, almost without his own choice, enlisted on
the side of the enemies of Angelica, which gave him no concern, so
completely had his draught from the fountain of hate steeled his mind
against her.

For several successive days the struggle continued, without any
important results, Rinaldo meeting the bravest knights of Angelica's
party, and defeating them one after the other. At length he encountered
Orlando, and the two knights bitterly reproached one another for the
cause they had each adopted, and engaged in a furious combat. Orlando
was mounted upon Bayard, Rinaldo's horse, which Agrican had by chance
become possessed of, and Orlando had taken from him as the prize of
victory. Bayard would not fight against his master, and Orlando was
getting the worse of the encounter, when suddenly Rinaldo, seeing
Astolpho, who for love of him had arrayed himself on his side, hard
beset by numbers, left Orlando to rush to the defence of his friend.
Night prevented the combat from being renewed; but a challenge was
given and accepted for their next meeting.

But Angelica, sighing in her heart for Rinaldo, was not willing that he
should be again exposed to so terrible a venture. She begged a boon of
Orlando, promising she would be his if he would do her bidding. On
receiving his promise, she enjoined him to set out without delay to
destroy the garden of the enchantress Falerina, in which many valiant
knights had been entrapped, and were imprisoned.

Orlando departed on his horse Brigliadoro, leaving Bayard in disgrace
for his bad deportment the day before. Angelica, to conciliate Rinaldo,
sent Bayard to him; but Rinaldo remained unmoved by this as by all her
former acts of kindness.

When Rinaldo learned Orlando's departure, he yielded to the entreaties
of the lady of Florismart, and prepared to fulfil his promise, and
rescue her lover from the power of the enchantress. Thus both Rinaldo
and Orlando were bound upon the same adventure, but unknown to one
another.

The castle of Falerina was protected by a river, which was crossed by a
bridge, kept by a ruffian, who challenged all comers to the combat; and
such was his strength that he had thus far prevailed in every
encounter, as appeared by the arms of various knights which he had
taken from them, and piled up as a trophy on the shore. Rinaldo
attacked him, but with as bad success as the rest, for the bridge-ward
struck him so violent a blow with an iron mace that he fell to the
ground. But when the villain approached to strip him of his armor,
Rinaldo seized him, and the bridge-ward, being unable to free himself,
leapt with Rinaldo into the lake, where they both disappeared.

Orlando, meanwhile, in discharge of his promise to Angelica, pursued
his way in quest of the same adventure. In passing through a wood he
saw a cavalier armed at all points, and mounted, keeping guard over a
lady who was bound to a tree, weeping bitterly. Orlando hastened to her
relief, but was exhorted by the knight not to interfere, for she had
deserved her fate by her wickedness. In proof of which he made certain
charges against her. The lady denied them all, and Orlando believed
her, defied the knight, overthrew him, and, releasing the lady,
departed with her seated on his horse's croup.

While they rode another damsel approached on a white palfrey, who
warned Orlando of impending danger, and informed him that he was near
the garden of the enchantress. Orlando was delighted with the
intelligence, and entreated her to inform him how he was to gain
admittance. She replied that the garden could only be entered at
sunrise and gave him such instructions as would enable him to gain
admittance. She gave him also a book in which was painted the garden
and all that it contained, together with the palace of the false
enchantress, where she had secluded herself for the purpose of
executing a magic work in which she was engaged. This was the
manufacture of a sword capable of cutting even through enchanted
substances. The object of this labor, the damsel told him, was the
destruction of a knight of the west, by name Orlando, who she had read
in the book of Fate was coming to demolish her garden. Having thus
instructed him, the damsel departed.

Orlando, finding he must delay his enterprise till the next morning,
now lay down and was soon asleep. Seeing this, the base woman whom he
had rescued, and who was intent on making her escape to rejoin her
paramour, mounted Brigliadoro, and rode off, carrying away Durindana.

When Orlando awoke, his indignation, as may be supposed, was great on
the discovery of the theft; but, like a good knight and true, he was
not to be diverted from his enterprise. He tore off a huge branch of an
elm to supply the place of his sword; and, as the sun rose, took his
way towards the gate of the garden, where a dragon was on his watch.
This he slew by repeated blows, and entered the garden, the gate of
which closed behind him, barring retreat. Looking round him, he saw a
fair fountain, which overflowed into a river, and in the centre of the
fountain a figure, on whose forehead was written:

    "The stream which waters violet and rose,
     From hence to the enchanted palace goes."

Following the banks of this flowing stream, and rapt in the delights of
the charming garden, Orlando arrived at the palace, and entering it,
found the mistress, clad in white, with a crown of gold upon her head,
in the act of viewing herself in the surface of the magic sword.
Orlando surprised her before she could escape, deprived her of the
weapon, and holding her fast by her long hair, which floated behind,
threatened her with immediate death if she did not yield up her
prisoners, and afford him the means of egress. She, however, was firm
of purpose, making no reply, and Orlando, unable to move her either by
threats or entreaties, was under the necessity of binding her to a
beech, and pursuing his quest as he best might.

He then bethought him of his book, and, consulting it, found that there
was an outlet to the south, but that to reach it a lake was to be
passed, inhabited by a siren, whose song was so entrancing as to be
quite irresistible to whoever heard it; but his book instructed him how
to protect himself against this danger. According to its directions,
while pursuing his path, he gathered abundance of flowers, which sprung
all around, and filled his helmet and his ears with them; then listened
if he heard the birds sing. Finding that, though he saw the gaping
beak, the swelling throat, and ruffled plumes, he could not catch a
note, he felt satisfied with his defence, and advanced toward the lake.
It was small but deep, and so clear and tranquil that the eye could
penetrate to the bottom.

He had no, sooner arrived upon the banks than the waters were seen to
gurgle, and the siren, rising midway out of the pool, sung so sweetly
that birds and beasts came trooping to the water-side to listen. Of
this Orlando heard nothing, but, feigning to yield to the charm, sank
down upon the bank. The siren issued from the water with the intent to
accomplish his destruction. Orlando seized her by the hair, and while
she sang yet louder (song being her only defence) cut off her head.
Then, following the directions of the book, he stained himself all over
with her blood.

Guarded by this talisman, he met successively all the monsters set for
defence of the enchantress and her garden, and at length found himself
again at the spot where he had made captive the enchantress, who still
continued fastened to the beech. But the scene was changed. The garden
had disappeared, and Falerina, before so haughty, now begged for mercy,
assuring him that many lives depended upon the preservation of hers.
Orlando promised her life upon her pledging herself for the deliverance
of her captives.

This, however, was no easy task. They were not in her possession, but
in that of a much more powerful enchantress, Morgana, the Lady of the
Lake, the very idea of opposing whom made Falerina turn pale with fear.
Representing to him the hazards of the enterprise, she led him towards
the dwelling of Morgana. To approach it he had to encounter the same
uncourteous bridge-ward who had already defeated and made captive so
many knights, and last of all, Rinaldo. He was a churl of the most
ferocious character, named Arridano. Morgana had provided him with
impenetrable armor, and endowed him in such a manner that his strength
always increased in proportion to that of the adversary with whom he
was matched. No one had ever yet escaped from the contest, since, such
was his power of endurance, he could breathe freely under water. Hence,
having grappled with a knight, and sunk with him to the bottom of the
lake, he returned, bearing his enemy's arms in triumph to the surface.

While Falerina was repeating her cautions and her counsels Orlando saw
Rinaldo's arms erected in form of a trophy, among other spoils made by
the villain, and, forgetting their late quarrel, determined upon
revenging his friend. Arriving at the pass, the churl presuming to bar
the way, a desperate contest ensued, during which Falerina escaped. The
churl finding himself overmatched at a contest of arms, resorted to his
peculiar art, grappled his antagonist, and plunged with him into the
lake. When he reached the bottom Orlando found himself in another
world, upon a dry meadow, with the lake overhead, through which shone
the beams of our sun, while the water stood on all sides like a crystal
wall. Here the battle was renewed, and Orlando had in his magic sword
an advantage which none had hitherto possessed. It had been tempered by
Falerina so that no spells could avail against it. Thus armed, and
countervailing the strength of his adversary by his superior skill and
activity, it was not long before he laid him dead upon the field.

Orlando then made all haste to return to the upper air, and, passing
through the water, which opened a way before him (such was the power of
the magic sword), he soon regained the shore, and found himself in a
field as thickly covered with precious stones as the sky is with stars.

Orlando crossed the field, not tempted to delay his enterprise by
gathering any of the brilliant gems spread all around him. He next
passed into a flowery meadow planted with trees, covered with fruit and
flowers, and full of all imaginable delights.

In the middle of this meadow was a fountain, and fast by it lay Morgana
asleep; a lady of a lovely aspect, dressed in white and vermilion
garments, her forehead well furnished with hair, while she had scarcely
any behind.

While Orlando stood in silence contemplating her beauty he heard a
voice exclaim: "Seize the fairy by the forelock, if thou hopest fair
success." But his attention was arrested by another object, and he
heeded not the warning. He saw on a sudden an array of towers,
pinnacles and columns, palaces with balconies and windows, extended
alleys with trees, in short a scene of architectural magnificence
surpassing all he had ever beheld. While he stood gazing in silent
astonishment the scene slowly melted away and disappeared. [Footnote:
This is a poetical description of a phenomenon which is said to be
really exhibited in the strait of Messina, between Sicily and Calabria.
It is called Fata Morgana, or Mirage.]

When he had recovered from his amazement he looked again toward the
fountain. The fairy had awaked and risen, and was dancing round its
border with the lightness of a leaf, timing her footsteps to this song:

    "Who in this world would wealth and treasure share,
     Honor, delight, and state, and what is best,
     Quick let him catch me by the lock of hair
     Which flutters from my forehead; and be blest.

    "But let him not the proffered good forbear,
     Nor till he seize the fleeting blessing rest;
     For present loss is sought in vain to-morrow,
     And the deluded wretch is left in sorrow."

The fairy, having sung thus, bounded off, and fled from the flowery
meadow over a high and inaccessible mountain. Orlando pursued her
through thorns and rocks, while the sky gradually became overcast, and
at last he was assailed by tempest, lightning, and hail.

While he thus pursued, a pale and meagre woman issued from a cave,
armed with a whip, and, treading close upon his steps, scourged him
with vigorous strokes. Her name was Repentance, and she told him it was
her office to punish those who neglected to obey the voice of Prudence,
and seize the fairy Fortune when he might.

Orlando, furious at this chastisement, turned upon his tormentor, but
might as well have stricken the wind. Finding it useless to resist, he
resumed his chase of the fairy, gained upon her, and made frequent
snatches at her white and vermilion garments, which still eluded his
grasp. At last, on her turning her head for an instant, he profited by
the chance, and seized her by the forelock. In an instant the tempest
ceased, the sky became serene, and Repentance retreated to her cave.

Orlando now demanded of Morgana the keys of her prison, and the fairy,
feigning a complacent aspect, delivered up a key of silver, bidding him
to be cautious in the use of it, since to break the lock would be to
involve himself and all in inevitable destruction; a caution which gave
the Count room for long meditation, and led him to consider

    How few amid the suitors who importune
    The dame, know how to turn the keys of Fortune.

Keeping the fairy still fast by the forelock, Orlando proceeded toward
the prison, turned the key, without occasioning the mischiefs
apprehended, and delivered the prisoners.

Among these were Florismart, Rinaldo, and many others of the bravest
knights of France. Morgana had disappeared, and the knights, under the
guidance of Orlando, retraced the path by which he had come. They soon
reached the field of treasure. Rinaldo, finding himself amidst this
mass of wealth, remembered his needy garrison of Montalban, and could
not resist the temptation of seizing part of the booty. In particular a
golden chain, studded with diamonds, was too much for his self-denial,
and he took it and was bearing it off, notwithstanding the
remonstrances of Orlando, when a violent wind caught him and whirled
him back, as he approached the gate. This happened a second and a third
time, and Rinaldo at length yielded to necessity, rather than to the
entreaties of his friends, and cast away his prize.

They soon reached the bridge and passed over without hindrance to the
other side, where they found the trophy decorated with their arms. Here
each knight resumed his own, and all, except the paladins and their
friends, separated as their inclinations or duty prompted. Dudon, the
Dane, one of the rescued knights, informed the cousins that he had been
made prisoner by Morgana while in the discharge of an embassy to them
from Charlemagne, who called upon them to return to the defence of
Christendom. Orlando was too much fascinated by Angelica to obey this
summons, and, followed by the faithful Florismart, who would not leave
him, returned towards Albracca. Rinaldo, Dudon, Iroldo, Prasildo, and
the others took their way toward the west.



THE INVASION OF FRANCE

Agramant, King of Africa, convoked the kings, his vassals, to
deliberate in council. He reminded them of the injuries he had
sustained from France, that his father had fallen in battle with
Charlemagne, and that his early years had hitherto not allowed him to
wipe out the stain of former defeats. He now proposed to them to carry
war into France.

Sobrino, his wisest councillor, opposed the project, representing the
rashness of it; but Rodomont, the young and fiery king of Algiers,
denounced Sobrino's counsel as base and cowardly, declaring himself
impatient for the enterprise. The king of the Garamantes, venerable for
his age and renowned for his prophetic lore, interposed, and assured
the King that such an attempt would be sure to fail, unless he could
first get on his side a youth marked out by destiny as the fitting
compeer of the most puissant knights of France, the young Rogero,
descended in direct line from Hector of Troy. This prince was now a
dweller upon the mountain Carena, where Atlantes, his foster-father, a
powerful magician, kept him in retirement, having discovered by his art
that his pupil would be lost to him if allowed to mingle with the
world. To break the spells of Atlantes, and draw Rogero from his
retirement, one only means was to be found. It was a ring possessed by
Angelica, Princess of Cathay, which was a talisman against all
enchantments. If this ring could be procured all would go well; without
it the enterprise was desperate.

Rodomont treated this declaration of the old prophet with scorn, and it
would probably have been held of little weight by the council, had not
the aged king, oppressed by the weight of years, expired in the very
act of reaffirming his prediction. This made so deep an impression on
the council that it was unanimously resolved to postpone the war until
an effort should be made to win Rogero to the camp.

King Agramant thereupon proclaimed that the sovereignty of a kingdom
should be the reward of whoever should succeed in obtaining the ring of
Angelica. Brunello the dwarf, the subtlest thief in all Africa,
undertook to procure it.

In prosecution of this design, he made the best of his way to
Angelica's kingdom, and arrived beneath the walls of Albracca while the
besieging army was encamped before the fortress. While the attention of
the garrison was absorbed by the battle that raged below he scaled the
walls, approached the Princess unnoticed, slipped the ring from her
finger, and escaped unobserved. He hastened to the seaside, and,
finding a vessel ready to sail, embarked, and arrived at Biserta, in
Africa. Here he found Agramant impatient for the talisman which was to
foil the enchantments of Atlantes and to put Rogero into his hands. The
dwarf, kneeling before the king, presented him with the ring, and
Agramant, delighted at the success of his mission, crowned him in
recompense King of Tingitana.

All were now anxious to go in quest of Rogero. The cavalcade
accordingly departed, and in due time arrived at the mountain of Carena.

At the bottom of this was a fruitful and well-wooded plain, watered by
a large river, and from this plain was descried a beautiful garden on
the mountain-top, which contained the mansion of Atlantes; but the
ring, which discovered what was before invisible, could not, though it
revealed this paradise, enable Agramant or his followers to enter it.
So steep and smooth was the rock by nature, that even Brunello failed
in every attempt to scale it. He did not, for this, despair of
accomplishing the object; but, having obtained Agramant's consent,
caused the assembled courtiers and knights to celebrate a tournament
upon the plain below. This was done with the view of seducing Rogero
from his fastness, and the stratagem was attended with success.

Rogero joined the tourney, and was presented by Agramant with a
splendid horse, Frontino, and a magnificent sword. Having learned from
Agramant his intended invasion of France, he gladly consented to join
the expedition.

Rodomont, meanwhile, was too impatient to wait for Agramant's
arrangements, and embarked with all the forces he could raise, made
good his landing on the coast of France, and routed the Christians in
several encounters. Previously to this, however, Gano, or Ganelon (as
he is sometimes called), the traitor, enemy of Orlando and the other
nephews of Charlemagne, had entered into a traitorous correspondence
with Marsilius, the Saracen king of Spain, whom he invited into France.
Marsilius, thus encouraged, led an army across the frontiers, and
joined Rodomont. This was the situation of things when Rinaldo and the
other knights who had obeyed the summons of Dudon set forward on their
return to France.

When they arrived at Buda in Hungary they found the king of that
country about despatching his son, Ottachiero, with an army to the
succor of Charlemagne. Delighted with the arrival of Rinaldo, he placed
his son and troops under his command. In due time the army arrived on
the frontiers of France, and, united with the troops of Desiderius,
king of Lombardy, poured down into Provence. The confederate armies had
not marched many days through this gay tract before they heard a crash
of drums and trumpets behind the hills, which spoke the conflict
between the paynims, led by Rodomont, and the Christian forces.
Rinaldo, witnessing from a mountain the prowess of Rodomont, left his
troops in charge of his friends, and galloped towards him with his
lance in rest. The impulse was irresistible, and Rodomont was unhorsed.
But Rinaldo, unwilling to avail himself of his advantage, galloped back
to the hill, and having secured Bayard among the baggage, returned to
finish the combat on foot.

During this interval the battle had become general, the Hungarians were
routed, and Rinaldo, on his return, had the mortification to find that
Ottachiero was wounded, and Dudon taken prisoner. While he sought
Rodomont in order to renew the combat a new sound of drums and trumpets
was heard, and Charlemagne, with the main body of his army, was
descried advancing in battle array.

Rodomont, seeing this, mounted the horse of Dudon, left Rinaldo, who
was on foot, and galloped off to encounter this new enemy.

Agramant, accompanied by Rogero, had by this time made good his
landing, and joined Rodomont with all his forces. Rogero eagerly
embraced this first opportunity of distinguishing himself, and spread
terror wherever he went, encountering in turn and overthrowing many of
the bravest knights of France. At length he found himself opposite to
Rinaldo, who, being interrupted, as we have said, in his combat with
Rodomont, and unable to follow him, being on foot, was shouting to his
late foe to return and finish their combat. Rogero also was on foot,
and seeing the Christian knight so eager for a contest, proffered
himself to supply the place of his late antagonist. Rinaldo saw at a
glance that the Moorish prince was a champion worthy of his arm, and
gladly accepted the defiance. The combat was stoutly maintained for a
time; but now fortune declared decisively in favor of the infidel army,
and Charlemagne's forces gave way at all points in irreparable
confusion. The two combatants were separated by the crowd of fugitives
and pursuers, and Rinaldo hastened to recover possession of his horse.
But Bayard, in the confusion, had got loose, and Rinaldo followed him
into a thick wood, thus becoming effectually separated from Rogero.

Rogero, also seeking his horse in the medley, came where two warriors
were engaged in mortal combat. Though he knew not who they were, he
could distinguish that one was a paynim and the other a Christian; and
moved by the spirit of courtesy he approached them and exclaimed, "Let
him of the two who worships Christ pause, and hear what I have to say.
The army of Charles is routed and in flight, so that if he wishes to
follow his leader he has no time for delay." The Christian knight, who
was none other than Bradamante, a female warrior, in prowess equal to
the best of knights, was thunderstruck with the tidings, and would
gladly leave the contest undecided, and retire from the field; but
Rodomont, her antagonist, would by no means consent. Rogero, indignant
at his discourtesy, insisted upon her departure, while he took up her
quarrel with Rodomont.

The combat, obstinately maintained on both sides, was interrupted by
the return of Bradamante. Finding herself unable to overtake the
fugitives, and reluctant to leave to another the burden and risk of a
contest which belonged to herself, she had returned to reclaim the
combat. She arrived, however, when her champion had dealt his enemy
such a blow as obliged him to drop both his sword and bridle. Rogero,
disdaining to profit by his adversary's defenceless situation, sat
apart upon his horse, while that of Rodomont bore his rider, stunned
and stupefied, about the field.

Bradamante approached Rogero, conceiving a yet higher opinion of his
valor on beholding such an instance of forbearance. She addressed him,
excusing herself for leaving him exposed to an enemy from his
interference in her cause; pleading her duty to her sovereign as the
motive. While she spoke Rodomont, recovered from his confusion, rode up
to them. His bearing was, however, changed; and he disclaimed all
thoughts of further contest with one who, he said, "had already
conquered him by his courtesy." So saying, he quitted his antagonist,
picked up his sword, and spurred out of sight.

Bradamante was now again desirous of retiring from the field, and
Rogero insisted on accompanying her, though yet unaware of her sex.

As they pursued their way, she inquired the name and quality of her new
associate; and Rogero informed her of his nation and family. He told
her that Astyanax, the son of Hector of Troy, established the kingdom
of Messina in Sicily. From him were derived two branches, which gave
origin to two families of renown. From one sprang the royal race of
Pepin and Charlemagne, and from the other, that of Reggio, in Italy.
"From that of Reggio am I derived," he continued. "My mother, driven
from her home by the chance of war, died in giving me life, and I was
taken in charge by a sage enchanter, who trained me to feats of arms
amidst the dangers of the desert and the chase."

Having thus ended his tale, Rogero entreated a similar return of
courtesy from his companion, who replied, without disguise, that she
was of the race of Clermont, and sister to Rinaldo, whose fame was
perhaps known to him. Rogero, much moved by this intelligence,
entreated her to take off her helmet, and at the discovery of her face
remained transported with delight.

While absorbed in this contemplation, an unexpected danger assailed
them. A party which was placed in a wood, in order to intercept the
retreating Christians, broke from its ambush upon the pair, and
Bradamante, who was uncasqued, was wounded in the head. Rogero was in a
fury at this attack; and Bradamante, replacing her helmet, joined him
in taking speedy vengeance on their enemies. They cleared the field of
them, but became separated in the pursuit, and Rogero, quitting the
chase, wandered by hill and vale in search of her whom he had no sooner
found than lost.

While pursuing this quest he fell in with two knights, whom he joined,
and engaged them to assist him in the search of his companion,
describing her arms, but concealing, from a certain feeling of
jealousy, her quality and sex.

It was evening when they joined company, and having ridden together
through the night the morning was beginning to break, when one of the
strangers, fixing his eyes upon Rogero's shield, demanded of him by
what right he bore the Trojan arms. Rogero declared his origin and
race, and then, in his turn, interrogated the inquirer as to his
pretensions to the cognizance of Hector, which he bore. The stranger
replied, "My name is Mandricardo, son of Agrican, the Tartar king, whom
Orlando treacherously slew. I say treacherously, for in fair fight he
could not have done it. It is in search of him that I have come to
France, to take vengeance for my father, and to wrest from him
Durindana, that famous sword, which belongs to me, and not to him."
When the knights demanded to know by what right he claimed Durindana,
Mandricardo thus related his history:

"I had been, before the death of my father, a wild and reckless youth.
That event awakened my energies, and drove me forth to seek for
vengeance. Determined to owe success to nothing but my own exertions, I
departed without attendants or horse or arms. Travelling thus alone,
and on foot, I espied one day a pavilion, pitched near a fountain, and
entered it, intent on adventure. I found therein a damsel of gracious
aspect, who replied to my inquiries that the fountain was the work of a
fairy, whose castle stood beyond a neighboring hill, where she kept
watch over a treasure which many knights had tried to win, but
fruitlessly, having lost their life or liberty in the attempt. This
treasure was the armor of Hector, prince of Troy, whom Achilles
treacherously slew. Nothing was wanting but his sword, Durindana, and
this had fallen into the possession of a queen named Penthesilea, from
whom it passed through her descendants to Almontes, whom Orlando slew,
and thus became possessed of the sword. The rest of Hector's arms were
saved and carried off by Aeneas, from whom this fairy received them in
recompense of service rendered. 'If you have the courage to attempt
their acquisition,' said the damsel, 'I will be your guide.'"

Mandricardo went on to say that he eagerly embraced the proposal, and
being provided with horse and armor by the damsel, set forth on his
enterprise, the lady accompanying him.

As they rode she explained the dangers of the quest. The armor was
defended by a champion, one of the numerous unsuccessful adventurers
for the prize, all of whom had been made prisoners by the fairy, and
compelled to take their turn, day by day, in defending the arms against
all comers. Thus speaking they arrived at the castle, which was of
alabaster, overlaid with gold. Before it, on a lawn, sat an armed
knight on horseback, who was none other than Gradasso, king of
Sericane, who, in his return home from his unsuccessful inroad into
France, had fallen into the power of the fairy, and was held to do her
bidding. Mandricardo, upon seeing him, dropt his visor, and laid his
lance in rest. The champion of the castle was equally ready, and each
spurred towards his opponent. They met one another with equal force,
splintered their spears, and, returning to the charge, encountered with
their swords. The contest was long and doubtful, when Mandricardo,
determined to bring it to an end, threw his arms about Gradasso,
grappled with him, and both fell to the ground. Mandricardo, however,
fell uppermost, and, preserving his advantage, compelled Gradasso to
yield himself conquered. The damsel now interfered, congratulating the
victor, and consoling the vanquished as well as she might.

Mandricardo and the damsel proceeded to the gate of the castle, which
they found undefended. As they entered they beheld a shield suspended
from a pilaster of gold. The device was a white eagle on an azure
field, in memory of the bird of Jove, which bore away Ganymede, the
flower of the Phrygian race. Beneath was engraved the following couplet:

    "Let none with hand profane my buckler wrong
     Unless he be himself as Hector strong."

The damsel, alighting from her palfrey, made obeisance to the arms,
bending herself to the ground. The Tartar king bowed his head with
equal reverence; then advancing towards the shield, touched it with his
sword. Thereupon an earthquake shook the ground, and the way by which
he had entered closed. Another and an opposite gate opened, and
displayed a field bristling with stalks and grain of gold. The damsel,
upon this, told him that he had no means of retreat but by cutting down
the harvest which was before him, and by uprooting a tree which grew in
the middle of the field. Mandricardo, without replying, began to mow
the harvest with his sword, but had scarce smitten thrice when he
perceived that every stalk that fell was instantly transformed into
some poisonous or ravenous animal, which prepared to assail him.
Instructed by the damsel, he snatched up a stone and cast it among the
pack. A strange wonder followed; for no sooner had the stone fallen
among the beasts, than they turned their rage against one another, and
rent each other to pieces. Mandricardo did not stop to marvel at the
miracle, but proceeded to fulfil his task, and uproot the tree. He
clasped it round the trunk, and made vigorous efforts to tear it up by
the roots. At each effort fell a shower of leaves, that were instantly
changed into birds of prey, which attacked the knight, flapping their
wings in his face, with horrid screeching. But undismayed by this new
annoyance, he continued to tug at the trunk till it yielded to his
efforts. A burst of wind and thunder followed, and the hawks and
vultures flew screaming away.

But these only gave place to a new foe; for from the hole made by
tearing up the tree issued a furious serpent, and, darting at
Mandricardo, wound herself about his limbs with a strain that almost
crushed him. Fortune, however, again stood his friend, for, writhing
under the folds of the monster, he fell backwards into the hole, and
his enemy was crushed beneath his weight.

Mandricardo, when he was somewhat recovered, and assured himself of the
destruction of the serpent, began to contemplate the place into which
he had fallen, and saw that he was in a vault, incrusted with costly
metals, and illuminated by a live coal. In the middle was a sort of
ivory bier, and upon this was extended what appeared to be a knight in
armor, but was in truth an empty trophy, composed of the rich and
precious arms once Hector's, to which nothing was wanting but the
sword. While Mandricardo stood contemplating the prize a door opened
behind him, and a bevy of fair damsels entered, dancing, who, taking up
the armor piece by piece, led him away to the place where the shield
was suspended; where he found the fairy of the castle seated in state.
By her he was invested with the arms he had won, first pledging his
solemn oath to wear no other blade but Durindana, which he was to wrest
from Orlando, and thus complete the conquest of Hector's arms.



THE INVASION OF FRANCE (Continued)

Mandricardo, having completed his story, now turned to Rogero, and
proposed that arms should decide which of the two was most worthy to
bear the symbol of the Trojan knight.

Rogero felt no other objection to this proposal than the scruple which
arose on observing that his antagonist was without a sword. Mandricardo
insisted that this need be no impediment, since his oath prevented him
from using a sword until he should have achieved the conquest of
Durindana.

This was no sooner said than a new antagonist started up in Gradasso,
who now accompanied Mandricardo. Gradasso vindicated his prior right to
Durindana, to obtain which he had embarked (as was related in the
beginning) in that bold inroad upon France. A quarrel was thus kindled
between the kings of Tartary and Sericane. While the dispute was raging
a knight arrived upon the ground, accompanied by a damsel, to whom
Rogero related the cause of the strife. The knight was Florismart, and
his companion Flordelis. Florismart succeeded in bringing the two
champions to accord, by informing them that he could bring them to the
presence of Orlando, the master of Durindana.

Gradasso and Mandricardo readily made truce, in order to accompany
Florismart, nor would Rogero be left behind.

As they proceeded on their quest they were met by a dwarf, who
entreated their assistance in behalf of his lady, who had been carried
off by an enchanter, mounted on a winged horse. However unwilling to
leave the question of the sword undecided, it was not possible for the
knights to resist this appeal. Two of their number, Gradasso and
Rogero, therefore accompanied the dwarf. Mandricardo persisted in his
search for Orlando, and Florismart, with Flordelis, pursued their way
to the camp of Charlemagne.

Atlantes, the enchanter, who had brought up Rogero, and cherished for
him the warmest affection, knew by his art that his pupil was destined
to be severed from him, and converted to the Christian faith through
the influence of Bradamante, that royal maiden with whom chance had
brought him acquainted. Thinking to thwart the will of Heaven in this
respect, he now put forth all his arts to entrap Rogero into his power.
By the aid of his subservient demons he reared a castle on an
inaccessible height, in the Pyrenean mountains, and to make it a
pleasant abode to his pupil, contrived to entrap and convey thither
knights and damsels many a one, whom chance had brought into the
vicinity of his castle. Here, in a sort of sensual paradise, they were
but too willing to forget glory and duty, and to pass their time in
indolent enjoyment.

It was by the enchanter that the dwarf had now been sent to tempt the
knights into his power.

But we must now return to Rinaldo, whom we left interrupted in his
combat with Rodomont. In search of his late antagonist and intent on
bringing their combat to a decision he entered the forest of Arden,
whither he suspected Rodomont had gone. While engaged on this quest he
was surprised by the vision of a beautiful child dancing naked, with
three damsels as beautiful as himself. While he was lost in admiration
at the sight the child approached him, and, throwing at him handfuls of
roses and lilies, struck him from his horse. He was no sooner down than
he was seized by the dancers, by whom he was dragged about and scourged
with flowers till he fell into a swoon. When he began to revive one of
the group approached him, and told him that his punishment was the
consequence of his rebellion against that power before whom all things
bend; that there was but one remedy to heal the wounds that had been
inflicted, and that was to drink of the waters of Love. Then they left
him.

Rinaldo, sore and faint, dragged himself toward a fountain which flowed
near by, and, being parched with thirst, drank greedily and almost
unconsciously of the water, which was sweet to the taste, but bitter to
the heart. After repeated draughts he recovered his strength and
recollection, and found himself in the same place where Angelica had
formerly awakened him with a rain of flowers, and whence he had fled in
contempt of her courtesy.

This remembrance of the scene was followed by the recognition of his
crime; and, repenting bitterly his ingratitude, he leaped upon Bayard,
with the intention of hastening to Angelica's country, and soliciting
his pardon at her feet.

Let us now retrace our steps, and revert to the time when the paladins
having learned from Dudon the summons of Charlemagne to return to
France to repel the invaders, had all obeyed the command with the
exception of Orlando, whose passion for Angelica still held him in
attendance on her. Orlando, arriving before Albracca, found it closely
beleaguered. He, however, made his way into the citadel, and related
his adventures to Angelica, from the time of his departure up to his
separation from Rinaldo and the rest, when they departed to the
assistance of Charlemagne. Angelica, in return, described the
distresses of the garrison, and the force of the besiegers; and in
conclusion prayed Orlando to favor her escape from the pressing danger,
and escort her into France. Orlando, who did not suspect that love for
Rinaldo was her secret motive, joyfully agreed to the proposal, and the
sally was resolved upon.

Leaving lights burning in the fortress, they departed at nightfall, and
passed in safety through the enemy's camp. After encountering numerous
adventures they reached the sea-side, and embarked on board a pinnace
for France. The vessel arrived safely, and the travellers, disembarking
in Provence, pursued their way by land. One day, heated and weary, they
sought shelter from the sun in the forest of Arden, and chance directed
Angelica to the fountain of Disdain, of whose waters she eagerly drank.

Issuing thence, the Count and damsel encountered a stranger-knight. It
was no other than Rinaldo, who was just on the point of setting off on
a pilgrimage in search of Angelica, to implore her pardon for his
insensibility, and urge his new found passion. Surprise and delight at
first deprived him of utterance, but soon recovering himself, he
joyfully saluted her, claiming her as his, and exhorting her to put
herself under his protection. His presumption was repelled by Angelica
with disdain, and Orlando, enraged at the invasion of his rights,
challenged him to decide their claims by arms.

Terrified at the combat which ensued, Angelica fled amain through the
forest, and came out upon a plain covered with tents. This was the camp
of Charlemagne, who led the army of reserve destined to support the
troops which had advanced to oppose Marsilius. Charles having heard the
damsel's tale, with difficulty separated the two cousins, and then
consigned Angelica, as the cause of quarrel, to the care of Namo, Duke
of Bavaria, promising that she should be his who should best deserve
her in the impending battle.

But these plans and hopes were frustrated. The Christian army, beaten
at all points, fled from the Saracens; and Angelica, indifferent to
both her lovers, mounted a swift palfrey and plunged into the forest,
rejoicing, in spite of her terror, at having regained her liberty. She
stopped at last in a tufted grove, where a gentle zephyr blew, and
whose young trees were watered by two clear runnels, which came and
mingled their waters, making a pleasing murmur. Believing herself far
from Rinaldo, and overcome by fatigue and the summer heat, she saw with
delight a bank covered with flowers so thick that they almost hid the
green turf, inviting her to alight and rest. She dismounted from her
palfrey, and turned him loose to recruit his strength with the tender
grass which bordered the streamlets. Then, in a sheltered nook
tapestried with moss and fenced in with roses and hawthorn-flowers, she
yielded herself to grateful repose.

She had not slept long when she was awakened by the noise made by the
approach of a horse. Starting up, she saw an armed knight who had
arrived at the bank of the stream. Not knowing whether he was to be
feared or not, her heart beat with anxiety. She pressed aside the
leaves to allow her to see who it was, but scarce dared to breathe for
fear of betraying herself. Soon the knight threw himself on the flowery
bank, and leaning his head on his hand fell into a profound reverie.
Then arousing himself from his silence he began to pour forth
complaints, mingled with deep sighs. Rivers of tears flowed down his
cheeks, and his breast seemed to labor with a hidden flame. "Ah, vain
regrets!" he exclaimed; "cruel fortune! others triumph, while I endure
hopeless misery! Better a thousand times to lose life, than wear a
chain so disgraceful and so oppressive!"

Angelica by this time had recognized the stranger, and perceived that
it was Sacripant, king of Circassia, one of the worthiest of her
suitors. This prince had followed Angelica from his country, at the
very gates of the day, to France, where he heard with dismay that she
was under the guardianship of the Paladin Orlando, and that the Emperor
had announced his decree to award her as the prize of valor to that one
of his nephews who should best deserve her.

As Sacripant continued to lament, Angelica, who had always opposed the
hardness of marble to his sighs, thought with herself that nothing
forbade her employing his good offices in this unhappy crisis. Though
firmly resolved never to accept him as a spouse, she yet felt the
necessity of giving him a gleam of hope in reward for the service she
required of him. All at once, like Diana, she stepped forth from the
arbor. "May the gods preserve thee," she said, "and put far from thee
all hard thoughts of me!" Then she told him all that had befallen her
since she parted with him at her father's court, and how she had
availed herself of Orlando's protection to escape from the beleaguered
city. At that moment the noise of horse and armor was heard as of one
approaching; and Sacripant, furious at the interruption, resumed his
helmet, mounted his horse, and placed his lance in rest. He saw a
knight advancing, with scarf and plume of snowy whiteness. Sacripant
regarded him with angry eyes, and, while he was yet some distance off,
defied him to the combat. The other, not moved by his angry tone to
make reply, put himself on his defence. Their horses, struck at the
same moment with the spur, rushed upon one another with the impetuosity
of a tempest. Their shields were pierced each with the other's lance,
and only the temper of their breastplates saved their lives. Both the
horses recoiled with the violence of the shock; but the unknown
knight's recovered itself at the touch of the spur; the Saracen king's
fell dead, and bore down his master with him. The white knight, seeing
his enemy in this condition, cared not to renew the combat, but,
thinking he had done enough for glory, pursued his way through the
forest, and was a mile off before Sacripant had got free from his horse.

As a ploughman, stunned by a thunder-clap which has stricken dead the
oxen at his plough, stands motionless, sadly contemplating his loss, so
Sacripant stood confounded and overwhelmed with mortification at having
Angelica a witness of his defeat. He groaned, he sighed, less from the
pain of his bruises than for the shame of being reduced to such a state
before her. The princess took pity on him, and consoled him as well as
she could. "Banish your regrets, my lord," she said, "this accident has
happened solely in consequence of the feebleness of your horse, which
had more need of rest and food than of such an encounter as this. Nor
can your adversary gain any credit by it, since he has hurried away,
not venturing a second trial." While she thus consoled Sacripant they
perceived a person approach, who seemed a courier, with bag and horn.
As soon as he came up, he accosted Sacripant, and inquired if he had
seen a knight pass that way, bearing a white shield and with a white
plume to his helmet. "I have, indeed, seen too much of him," said
Sacripant, "it is he who has brought me to the ground; but at least I
hope to learn from you who that knight is." "That I can easily inform
you," said the man; "know then that, if you have been overthrown, you
owe your fate to the high prowess of a lady as beautiful as she is
brave. It is the fair and illustrious Bradamante who has won from you
the honors of victory."

At these words the courier rode on his way, leaving Sacripant more
confounded and mortified than ever. In silence he mounted the horse of
Angelica, taking the lady behind him on the croup, and rode away in
search of a more secure asylum. Hardly had they ridden two miles when a
new sound was heard in the forest, and they perceived a gallant and
powerful horse, which, leaping the ravines and dashing aside the
branches that opposed his passage, appeared before them, accoutred with
a rich harness adorned with gold.

"If I may believe my eyes, which penetrate with difficulty the
underwood," said Angelica, "that horse that dashes so stoutly through
the bushes is Bayard, and I marvel how he seems to know the need we
have of him, mounted as we are both on one feeble animal." Sacripant,
dismounting from the palfrey, approached the fiery courser, and
attempted to seize his bridle, but the disdainful animal, turning from
him, launched at him a volley of kicks enough to have shattered a wall
of marble. Bayard then approached Angelica with an air as gentle and
loving as a faithful dog could his master after a long separation. For
he remembered how she had caressed him, and even fed him, in Albracca.
She took his bridle in her left hand, while with her right she patted
his neck. The beautiful animal, gifted with wonderful intelligence,
seemed to submit entirely. Sacripant, seizing the moment to vault upon
him, controlled his curvetings, and Angelica, quitting the croup of the
palfrey, regained her seat.

But, turning his eyes toward a place where was heard a noise of arms,
Sacripant beheld Rinaldo. That hero now loves Angelica more than his
life, and she flies him as the timid crane the falcon.

The fountain of which Angelica had drunk produced such an effect on the
beautiful queen that, with distressed countenance and trembling voice,
she conjured Sacripant not to wait the approach of Rinaldo, but to join
her in flight.

"Am I, then," said Sacripant, "of so little esteem with you that you
doubt my power to defend you? Do you forget the battle of Albracca, and
how, in your defence, I fought single-handed against Agrican and all
his knights?"

Angelica made no reply, uncertain what to do; but already Rinaldo was
too near to be escaped. He advanced menacingly to the Circassian king,
for he recognized his horse.

"Vile thief," he cried, "dismount from that horse, and prevent the
punishment that is your due for daring to rob me of my property. Leave,
also, the princess in my hands; for it would indeed be a sin to suffer
so charming a lady and so gallant a charger to remain in such keeping."

The king of Circassia, furious at being thus insulted, cried out, "Thou
liest, villain, in giving me the name of thief, which better belongs to
thyself than to me. It is true, the beauty of this lady and the
perfection of this horse are unequalled; come on, then, and let us try
which of us is most worthy to possess them."

At these words the king of Circassia and Rinaldo attacked one another
with all their force, one fighting on foot, the other on horseback. You
need not, however, suppose that the Saracen king found any advantage in
this; for a young page, unused to horsemanship, could not have failed
more completely to manage Bayard than did this accomplished knight. The
faithful animal loved his master too well to injure him, and refused
his aid as well as his obedience to the hand of Sacripant, who could
strike but ineffectual blows, the horse backing when he wished him to
go forward, and dropping his head and arching his back, throwing out
with his legs, so as almost to shake the knight out of the saddle.
Sacripant, seeing that he could not manage him, watched his
opportunity, rose on his saddle, and leapt lightly to the earth; then,
relieved from the embarrassment of the horse, renewed the combat on
more equal terms. Their skill to thrust and parry were equal; one
rises, the other stoops; with one foot set firm they turn and wind, to
lay on strokes or to dodge them. At last Rinaldo, throwing himself on
the Circassian, dealt him a blow so terrible that Fusberta, his good
sword, cut in two the buckler of Sacripant, although it was made of
bone, and covered with a thick plate of steel well tempered. The arm of
the Saracen was deprived of its defence, and almost palsied with the
stroke. Angelica, perceiving how victory was likely to incline, and
shuddering at the thought of becoming the prize of Rinaldo, hesitated
no longer. Turning her horse's head, she fled with the utmost speed;
and, in spite of the round pebbles which covered a steep descent, she
plunged into a deep valley, trembling with the fear that Rinaldo was in
pursuit. At the bottom of this valley she encountered an aged hermit,
whose white beard flowed to his middle, and whose venerable appearance
seemed to assure his piety.

This hermit, who appeared shrunk by age and fasting, travelled slowly,
mounted upon a wretched ass. The princess, overcome with fear, conjured
him to save her life; and to conduct her to some port of the sea,
whence she might embark and quit France, never more to hear the odious
name of Rinaldo.

The old hermit was something of a wizard. He comforted Angelica, and
promised to protect her from all peril. Then he opened his scrip, and
took from thence a book, and had read but a single page when a goblin,
obedient to his incantations, appeared, under the form of a laboring
man, and demanded his orders. He received them, transported himself to
the place where the knights still maintained their conflict, and boldly
stepped between the two.

"Tell me, I pray you," he said, "what benefit will accrue to him who
shall get the better in this contest? The object you are contending for
is already disposed of; for the Paladin Orlando, without effort and
without opposition, is now carrying away the princess Angelica to
Paris. You had better pursue them promptly; for if they reach Paris you
will never see her again."

At these words you might have seen those rival warriors confounded,
stupefied, silently agreeing that they were affording their rival a
fair opportunity to triumph over them. Rinaldo, approaching Bayard,
breathes a sigh of shame and rage, and swears a terrible oath that, if
he overtakes Orlando, he will tear his heart out. Then mounting Bayard
and pressing his flanks with his spurs, he leaves the king of Circassia
on foot in the forest.

Let it not appear strange that Rinaldo found Bayard obedient at last,
after having so long prevented any one from even touching his bridle;
for that fine animal had an intelligence almost human; he had fled from
his master only to draw him on the track of Angelica, and enable him to
recover her. He saw when the princess fled from the battle, and Rinaldo
being then engaged in a fight on foot, Bayard found himself free to
follow the traces of Angelica. Thus he had drawn his master after him,
not permitting him to approach, and had brought him to the sight of the
princess. But Bayard now, deceived like his master with the false
intelligence of the goblin, submits to be mounted and to serve his
master as usual, and Rinaldo, animated with rage, makes him fly toward
Paris, more slowly than his wishes, though the speed of Bayard
outstripped the winds. Full of impatience to encounter Orlando, he gave
but a few hours that night to sleep. Early the next day he saw before
him the great city, under the walls of which the Emperor Charles had
collected the scattered remains of his army. Foreseeing that he would
soon be attacked on all sides, the Emperor had caused the ancient
fortifications to be repaired, and new ones to be built, surrounded by
wide and deep ditches. The desire to hold the field against the enemy
made him seize every means of procuring new allies. He hoped to receive
from England aid sufficient to enable him to form a new camp, and as
soon as Rinaldo rejoined him he selected him to go as his ambassador
into England, to plead for auxiliaries. Rinaldo was far from pleased
with his commission, but he obeyed the Emperor's commands, without
giving himself time to devote a single day to the object nearest his
heart. He hastened to Calais, and lost not a moment in embarking for
England, ardently desiring a hasty despatch of his commission, and a
speedy return to France.



BRADAMANTE AND ROGERO

Bradamante, the knight of the white plume and shield, whose sudden
appearance and encounter with Sacripant we have already told, was in
quest of Rogero, from whom chance had separated her, almost at the
beginning of their acquaintance. After her encounter with Sacripant
Bradamante pursued her way through the forest, in hopes of rejoining
Rogero, and arrived at last on the brink of a fair fountain.

This fountain flowed through a broad meadow. Ancient trees overshadowed
it, and travellers, attracted by the sweet murmur of its waters,
stopped there to cool themselves. Bradamante, casting her eyes on all
sides to enjoy the beauties of the spot, perceived, under the shade of
a tree, a knight reclining, who seemed to be oppressed with the deepest
grief.

Bradamante accosted him, and asked to be informed of the cause of his
distress. "Alas! my lord," said he, "I lament a young and charming
friend, my affianced wife, who has been torn from me by a villain,--let
me rather call him a demon,--who, on a winged horse, descended from the
air, seized her, and bore her screaming to his den. I have pursued them
over rocks and through ravines till my horse is no longer able to bear
me, and I now wait only for death." He added that already a vain
attempt on his behalf had been made by two knights, whom chance had
brought to the spot. Their names were Gradasso, king of Sericane, and
Rogero, the Moor. Both had been overcome by the wiles of the enchanter,
and were added to the number of the captives, whom he held in an
impregnable castle, situated on the height of the mountain. At the
mention of Rogero's name Bradamante started with delight, which was
soon changed to an opposite sentiment when she heard that her lover was
a prisoner in the toils of the enchanter. "Sir Knight," she said, "do
not surrender yourself to despair; this day may be more happy for you
than you think, if you will only lead me to the castle which enfolds
her whom you deplore."

The knight responded, "After having lost all that made life dear to me
I have no motive to avoid the dangers of the enterprise, and I will do
as you request; but I forewarn you of the perils you will have to
encounter. If you fall impute it not to me."

Having thus spoken, they took their way to the castle, but were
overtaken by a messenger from the camp, who had been sent in quest of
Bradamante to summon her back to the army, where her presence was
needed to reassure her disheartened forces, and withstand the advance
of the Moors.

The mournful knight, whose name was Pinabel, thus became aware that
Bradamante was a scion of the house of Clermont, between which and his
own of Mayence there existed an ancient feud. From this moment the
traitor sought only how he might be rid of the company of Bradamante,
from whom he feared no good would come to him, but rather mortal
injury, if his name and lineage became known to her. For he judged her
by his own base model, and, knowing his ill deserts, he feared to
receive his due.

Bradamante, in spite of the summons to return to the army, could not
resolve to leave her lover in captivity, and determined first to finish
the adventure on which she was engaged. Pinabel leading the way, they
at length arrived at a wood, in the centre of which rose a steep, rocky
mountain. Pinabel, who now thought of nothing else but how he might
escape from Bradamante, proposed to ascend the mountain to extend his
view, in order to discover a shelter for the night, if any there might
be within sight. Under this pretence he left Bradamante, and advanced
up the side of the mountain till he came to a cleft in the rock, down
which he looked, and perceived that it widened below into a spacious
cavern. Meanwhile Bradamante, fearful of losing her guide, had followed
close on his footsteps, and rejoined him at the mouth of the cavern.
Then the traitor, seeing the impossibility of escaping her, conceived
another design. He told her that before her approach he had seen in the
cavern a young and beautiful damsel, whose rich dress announced her
high birth, who with tears and lamentations implored assistance; that
before he could descend to relieve her a ruffian had seized her, and
hurried her away into the recesses of the cavern.

Bradamante, full of truth and courage, readily believed this lie of the
Mayencian traitor. Eager to succor the damsel, she looked round for the
means of facilitating the descent, and seeing a large elm with
spreading branches she lopped off with her sword one of the largest,
and thrust it into the opening. She told Pinabel to hold fast to the
larger end, while, grasping the branches with her hands, she let
herself down into the cavern.

The traitor smiled at seeing her thus suspended, and, asking her in
mockery, "Are you a good leaper?" he let go the branch with perfidious
glee, and saw Bradamante precipitated to the bottom of the cave. "I
wish your whole race were there with you," he muttered, "that you might
all perish together."

But Pinabel's atrocious design was not accomplished. The twigs and
foliage of the branch broke its descent, and Bradamante, not seriously
injured, though stunned with her fall, was reserved for other
adventures.

As soon as she recovered from the shock Bradamante cast her eyes around
and perceived a door, through which she passed into a second cavern,
larger and loftier than the first. It had the appearance of a
subterranean temple. Columns of the purest alabaster adorned it, and
supported the roof; a simple altar rose in the middle; a lamp, whose
radiance was reflected by the alabaster walls, cast a mild light around.

Bradamante, inspired by a sense of religious awe, approached the altar,
and, falling on her knees, poured forth her prayers and thanks to the
Preserver of her life, invoking the protection of his power. At that
moment a small door opened, and a female issued from it with naked
feet, and flowing robe and hair, who called her by her name, and thus
addressed her: "Brave and generous Bradamante, know that it is a power
from above that has brought you hither. The spirit of Merlin, whose
last earthly abode was in this place, has warned me of your arrival,
and of the fate that awaits you. This famous grotto," she continued,
"was the work of the enchanter Merlin; here his ashes repose. You have
no doubt heard how this sage and virtuous enchanter ceased to be.
Victim of the artful fairy of the lake, Merlin, by a fatal compliance
with her request, laid himself down living in his tomb, without power
to resist the spell laid upon him by that ingrate, who retained him
there as long as he lived. His spirit hovers about this spot, and will
not leave it, until the last trumpet shall summon the dead to judgment.
He answers the questions of those who approach his tomb, where perhaps
you may be privileged to hear his voice."

Bradamante, astonished at these words, and the objects which met her
view, knew not whether she was awake or asleep. Confused, but modest,
she cast down her eyes, and a blush overspread her face. "Ah, what am
I," said she, "that so great a prophet should deign to speak to me!"
Still, with a secret satisfaction, she followed the priestess, who led
her to the tomb of Merlin. This tomb was constructed of a species of
stone hard and resplendent like fire. The rays which beamed from the
stone sufficed to light up that terrible place, where the sun's rays
never penetrated; but I know not whether that light was the effect of a
certain phosphorescence of the stone itself, or of the many talismans
and charms with which it was wrought over.

Bradamante had hardly passed the threshold of this sacred place when
the spirit of the enchanter saluted her with a voice firm and distinct:
"May thy designs be prosperous, O chaste and noble maiden, the future
mother of heroes, the glory of Italy, and destined to fill the whole
world with their fame. Great captains, renowned knights, shall be
numbered among your descendants, who shall defend the Church and
restore their country to its ancient splendor. Princes, wise as
Augustus and the sage Numa, shall bring back the age of gold.
[Footnote: This prophecy is introduced by Ariosto in this place to
compliment the noble house of Este, the princes of his native state,
the dukedom of Ferrara.] To accomplish these grand destinies it is
ordained that you shall wed the illustrious Rogero. Fly then to his
deliverance, and lay prostrate in the dust the traitor who has snatched
him from you, and now holds him in chains!"

Merlin ceased with these words, and left to Melissa, the priestess, the
charge of more fully instructing the maiden in her future course.
"To-morrow," said she, "I will conduct you to the castle on the rock
where Rogero is held captive. I will not leave you till I have guided
you through this wild wood, and I will direct you on your way so that
you shall be in no danger of mistaking it."

The next morning Melissa conducted Bradamante between rocks and
precipices, crossing rapid torrents, and traversing intricate passes,
employing the time in imparting to her such information as was
necessary to enable her to bring her design to a successful issue.

"Not only would the castle, impenetrable by force, and that winged
horse of his baffle your efforts, but know that he possesses also a
buckler whence flashes a light so brilliant that the eyes of all who
look upon it are blinded. Think not to avoid it by shutting your eyes,
for how then will you be able to avoid his blows, and make him feel
your own? But I will teach you the proper course to pursue.

"Agramant, the Moorish prince, possesses a ring stolen from a queen of
India, which has power to render of no avail all enchantments.
Agramant, knowing that Rogero is of more importance to him than any one
of his warriors, is desirous of rescuing him from the power of the
enchanter, and has sent for that purpose Brunello, the most crafty and
sagacious of his servants, provided with his wonderful ring, and he is
even now at hand, bent on this enterprise. But, beautiful Bradamante,
as I desire that no one but yourself shall have the glory of delivering
from thraldom your future spouse, listen while I disclose the means of
success. Following this path which leads by the seashore, you will come
ere long to a hostelry, where the Saracen Brunello will arrive shortly
before you. You will readily know him by his stature, under four feet,
his great disproportioned head, his squint eyes, his livid hue, his
thick eyebrows joining his tufted beard. His dress, moreover, that of a
courier, will point him out to you.

"It will be easy for you to enter into conversation with him,
announcing yourself as a knight seeking combat with the enchanter, but
let not the knave suspect that you know anything about the ring. I
doubt not that he will be your guide to the castle of the enchanter.
Accept his offer, but take care to keep behind him till you come in
sight of the brilliant dome of the castle. Then hesitate not to strike
him dead, for the wretch deserves no pity, and take from him the ring.
But let him not suspect your intention, for by putting the ring into
his mouth he will instantly become invisible, and disappear from your
eyes."

Saying thus, the sage Melissa and the fair Bradamante arrived near the
city of Bordeaux, where the rich and wide river Garonne pours the
tribute of its waves into the sea. They parted with tender embraces.
Bradamante, intent wholly on her purpose, hastened to arrive at the
hostelry, where Brunello had preceded her a few moments only. The young
heroine knew him without difficulty. She accosted him, and put to him
some slight questions, to which he replied with adroit falsehoods.
Bradamante, on her part, concealed from him her sex, her religion, her
country, and the blood from whence she sprung. While they talk
together, sudden cries are heard from all parts of the hostelry. "O
queen of heaven!" exclaimed Bradamante, "what can be the cause of this
sudden alarm?" She soon learned the cause. Host, children, domestics,
all, with upturned eyes, as if they saw a comet or a great eclipse,
were gazing on a prodigy which seemed to pass the bounds of
possibility. She beheld distinctly a winged horse, mounted with a
cavalier in rich armor, cleaving the air with rapid flight. The wings
of this strange courser were wide extended, and covered with feathers
of various colors. The polished armor of the knight made them shine
with rainbow tints. In a short time the horse and rider disappeared
behind the summits of the mountains.

"It is an enchanter," said the host, "a magician who often is seen
traversing the air in that way. Sometimes he flies aloft as if among
the stars, and at others skims along the land. He possesses a wonderful
castle on the top of the Pyrenees. Many knights have shown their
courage by going to attack him, but none have ever returned, from which
it is to be feared they have lost either their life or their liberty."

Bradamante, addressing the host, said, "Could you furnish me a guide to
conduct me to the castle of this enchanter?" "By my faith," said
Brunello, interrupting, "that you shall not seek in vain; I have it all
in writing, and I will myself conduct you." Bradamante, with thanks,
accepted him for her guide.

The host had a tolerable horse to dispose of, which Bradamante
bargained for, and the next day, at the first dawn of morning, she took
her route by a narrow valley, taking care to have the Saracen Brunello
lead the way.

They reached the summit of the Pyrenees, whence one may look down on
France, Spain, and the two seas. From this height they descended again
by a fatiguing road into a deep valley. From the middle of this valley
an isolated mountain rose, composed of rough and perpendicular rock, on
whose summit was the castle, surrounded with a wall of brass. Brunello
said, "Yonder is the stronghold where the enchanter keeps his
prisoners; one must have wings to mount thither; it is easy to see that
the aid of a flying horse must be necessary for the master of this
castle, which he uses for his prison and for his abode."

Bradamante, sufficiently instructed, saw that the time had now come to
possess herself of the ring; but she could not resolve to slay a
defenceless man. She seized Brunello before he was aware, bound him to
a tree, and took from him the ring which he wore on one of his fingers.
The cries and entreaties of the perfidious Saracen moved her not. She
advanced to the foot of the rock whereon the castle stood, and, to draw
the magician to the combat, sounded her horn, adding to it cries of
defiance.

The enchanter delayed not to present himself, mounted on his winged
horse. Bradamante was struck with surprise mixed with joy when she saw
that this person, described as so formidable, bore no lance nor club,
nor any other deadly weapon. He had only on his arm a buckler, covered
with a cloth, and in his hand an open book. As to the winged horse,
there was no enchantment about him. He was a natural animal, of a
species which exists in the Riphaean mountains. Like a griffin, he had
the head of an eagle, claws armed with talons, and wings covered with
feathers, the rest of his body being that of a horse. This strange
animal is called a Hippogriff.

The heroine attacked the enchanter on his approach, striking on this
side and on that, with all the energy of a violent combat, but wounding
only the wind; and after this pretended attack had lasted some time
dismounted from her horse, as if hoping to do battle more effectually
on foot. The enchanter now prepares to employ his sole weapon, by
uncovering the magic buckler which never failed to subdue an enemy by
depriving him of his senses. Bradamante, confiding in her ring,
observed all the motions of her adversary, and, at the unveiling of the
shield, cast herself on the ground, pretending that the splendor of the
shield had overcome her, but in reality to induce the enchanter to
dismount and approach her.

It happened according to her wish. When the enchanter saw her prostrate
he made his horse alight on the ground, and, dismounting, fixed the
shield on the pommel of his saddle, and approached in order to secure
the fallen warrior. Bradamante, who watched him intently, as soon as
she saw him near at hand, sprang up, seized him vigorously, threw him
down, and, with the same chain which the enchanter had prepared for
herself, bound him fast, without his being able to make any effectual
resistance.

The enchanter, with the accents of despair, exclaimed, "Take my life,
young man!" but Bradamante was far from complying with such a wish.
Desirous of knowing the name of the enchanter, and for what purpose he
had formed with so much art this impregnable fortress, she commanded
him to inform her.

"Alas!" replied the magician, while tears flowed down his cheeks, "it
is not to conceal booty, nor for any culpable design that I have built
this castle; it was only to guard the life of a young knight, the
object of my tenderest affection, my art having taught me that he is
destined to become a Christian, and to perish, shortly after, by the
blackest of treasons.

"This youth, named Rogero, is the most beautiful and most accomplished
of knights. It is I, the unhappy Atlantes, who have reared him from his
childhood. The call of honor and the desire of glory led him from me to
follow Agramant, his prince, in his invasion of France, and I, more
devoted to Rogero than the tenderest of parents, have sought the means
of bringing him back to this abode, in the hope of saving him from the
cruel fate that menaces him.

"For this purpose I have got him in my possession by the same means as
I attempted to employ against you; and by which I have succeeded in
collecting a great many knights and ladies in my castle. My purpose was
to render my beloved pupil's captivity light, by affording him society
to amuse him, and keep his thoughts from running on subjects of war and
glory. Alas! my cares have been in vain! Yet, take, I beseech you,
whatever else I have, but spare me my beloved pupil. Take this shield,
take this winged courser, deliver such of your friends as you may find
among my prisoners, deliver them all if you will, but leave me my
beloved Rogero; or if you will snatch him too from me, take also my
life, which will cease then to be to me worth preserving."

Bradamante replied: "Old man, hope not to move me by your vain
entreaties. It is precisely the liberty of Rogero that I require. You
would keep him here in bondage and in slothful pleasure, to save him
from a fate which you foresee. Vain old man! how can you foresee his
fate when you could not foresee your own? You desire me to take your
life. No, my aim and my soul refuse the request." This said, she
required the magician to go before, and guide her to the castle. The
prisoners were set at liberty, though some, in their secret hearts,
regretted the voluptuous life which was thus brought to an end.
Bradamante and Rogero met one another with transports of joy.

They descended from the mountain to the spot where the encounter had
taken place. There they found the Hippogriff, with the magic buckler in
its wrapper, hanging to his saddle-bow. Bradamante advanced to seize
the bridle; the Hippogriff seemed to wait her approach, but before she
reached him he spread his wings and flew away to a neighboring hill,
and in the same manner, a second time, eluded her efforts. Rogero and
the other liberated knights dispersed over the plain and hilltops to
secure him, and at last the animal allowed Rogero to seize his rein.
The fearless Rogero hesitated not to vault upon his back, and let him
feel his spurs, which so roused his mettle that, after galloping a
short distance, he suddenly spread his wings, and soared into the air.
Bradamante had the grief to see her lover snatched away from her at the
very moment of reunion. Rogero, who knew not the art of directing the
horse, was unable to control his flight. He found himself carried over
the tops of the mountains, so far above them that he could hardly
distinguish what was land and what water. The Hippogriff directed his
flight to the west, and cleaved the air as swiftly as a new-rigged
vessel cuts the waves, impelled by the freshest and most favorable
gales.



ASTOLPHO AND THE ENCHANTRESS

In the long flight which Rogero took on the back of the Hippogriff he
was carried over land and sea, unknowing whither. As soon as he had
gained some control over the animal he made him alight on the nearest
land. When he came near enough to earth Rogero leapt lightly from his
back, and tied the animal to a myrtle-tree. Near the spot flowed the
pure waters of a fountain, surrounded by cedars and palm-trees. Rogero
laid aside his shield, and, removing his helmet, breathed with delight
the fresh air, and cooled his lips with the waters of the fountain. For
we cannot wonder that he was excessively fatigued, considering the ride
he had taken. He was preparing to taste the sweets of repose when he
perceived that the Hippogriff, which he had tied by the bridle to a
myrtle-tree, frightened at something, was making violent efforts to
disengage himself. His struggle shook the myrtle-tree so that many of
its beautiful leaves were torn off, and strewed the ground.

A sound like that which issues from burning wood seemed to come from
the myrtle-tree, at first faint and indistinct, but growing stronger by
degrees, and at length was audible as a voice which spoke in this
manner: "O knight, if the tenderness of your heart corresponds to the
beauty of your person, relieve me, I pray you, from this tormenting
animal. I suffer enough inwardly without having outward evils added to
my lot."

Rogero, at the first accents of this voice, turned his eyes promptly on
the myrtle, hastened to it, and stood fixed in astonishment when he
perceived that the voice issued from the tree itself. He immediately
untied his horse, and, flushed with surprise and regret, exclaimed,
"Whoever thou art, whether mortal or the goddess of these woods,
forgive me, I beseech you, my involuntary fault. Had I imagined that
this hard bark covered a being possessed of feeling, could I have
exposed such a beautiful myrtle to the insults of this steed? May the
sweet influences of the sky and air speedily repair the injury I have
done! For my part, I promise by the sovereign lady of my heart to do
everything you wish in order to merit your forgiveness."

At these words the myrtle seemed to tremble from root to stem, and
Rogero remarked that a moisture as of tears trickled down its bark,
like that which exudes from a log placed on the fire. It then spoke:

"The kindness which inspires your words compels me to disclose to you
who I once was, and by what fatality I have been changed into this
shape. My name was Astolpho, cousin of Orlando and Rinaldo, whose fame
has filled the earth. I was myself reckoned among the bravest paladins
of France, and was by birth entitled to reign over England, after Otho,
my father. Returning from the distant East, with Rinaldo and many other
brave knights, called home to aid with our arms the great Emperor of
France, we reached a spot where the powerful enchantress Alcina
possessed a castle on the borders of the sea. She had gone to the
water-side to amuse herself with fishing, and we paused to see how, by
her art, without hook or line, she drew from the water whatever she
would.

"Not far from the shore an enormous whale showed a back so broad and
motionless that it looked like an island. Alcina had fixed her eyes on
me, and planned to get me into her power. Addressing us, she said:
'This is the hour when the prettiest mermaid in the sea comes regularly
every day to the shore of yonder island. She sings so sweetly that the
very waves flow smoother at the sound. If you wish to hear her come
with me to her resort.' So saying, Alcina pointed to the fish, which we
all supposed to be an island. I, who was rash, did not hesitate to
follow her; but swam my horse over, and mounted on the back of the
fish. In vain Rinaldo and Dudon made signs to me to beware; Alcina,
smiling, took me in charge, and led the way. No sooner were we mounted
upon him than the whale moved off, spreading his great fins, and cleft
rapidly the waters. I then saw my folly, but it was too late to repent.
Alcina soothed my anger, and professed that what she had done was for
love of me. Ere long we arrived at this island, where at first
everything was done to reconcile me to my lot, and to make my days pass
happily away. But soon Alcina, sated with her conquest, grew
indifferent, then weary of me, and at last, to get rid of me, changed
me into this form, as she had done to many lovers before me, making
some of them olives, some palms, some cedars, changing others into
fountains, rocks, or even into wild beasts. And thou, courteous knight,
whom accident has brought to this enchanted isle, beware that she get
not the power over thee, or thou shalt haply be made like us, a tree, a
fountain, or a rock."

Rogero expressed his astonishment at this recital. Astolpho added that
the island was in great part subject to the sway of Alcina. By the aid
of her sister Morgana, she had succeeded in dispossessing a third
sister, Logestilla, of nearly the whole of her patrimony, for the whole
isle was hers originally by her father's bequest. But Logestilla was
temperate and sage, while the other sisters were false and voluptuous.
Her empire was divided from theirs by a gulf and chain of mountains,
which alone had thus far prevented her sister from usurping it.

Astolpho here ended his tale, and Rogero, who knew that he was the
cousin of Bradamante, would gladly have devised some way for his
relief; but, as that was out of his power, he consoled him as well as
he could, and then begged to be told the way to the palace of
Logestilla, and how to avoid that of Alcina. Astolpho directed him to
take the road to the left, though rough and full of rocks. He warned
him that this road would present serious obstacles; that troops of
monsters would oppose his passage, employed by the art of Alcina to
prevent her subjects from escaping from her dominion. Rogero thanked
the myrtle, and prepared to set out on his way.

He at first thought he would mount the winged horse, and scale the
mountain on his back; but he was too uncertain of his power to control
him to wish to encounter the hazard of another flight through the air,
besides that he was almost famished for the want of food. So he led the
horse after him, and took the road on foot, which for some distance led
equally to the dominions of both the sisters.

He had not advanced more than two miles when he saw before him the
superb city of Alcina. It was surrounded with a wall of gold, which
seemed to reach the skies. I know that some think that this wall was
not of real gold, but only the work of alchemy; it matters not; I
prefer to think it gold, for it certainly shone like gold.

A broad and level road led to the gates of the city, and from this
another branched off, narrow and rough, which led to the mountain
region. Rogero took without hesitation the narrow road; but he had no
sooner entered upon it than he was assailed by a numerous troop which
opposed his passage.

You never have seen anything so ridiculous, so extraordinary, as this
host of hobgoblins were. Some of them bore the human form from the neck
to the feet, but had the head of a monkey or a cat; others had the legs
and the ears of a horse; old men and women, bald and hideous, ran
hither and thither as if out of their senses, half clad in the shaggy
skins of beasts; one rode full speed on a horse without a bridle,
another jogged along mounted on an ass or a cow; others, full of
agility, skipped about, and clung to the tails and manes of the animals
which their companions rode. Some blew horns, others brandished
drinking-cups; some were armed with spits, and some with pitchforks.
One, who appeared to be the captain, had an enormous belly and a gross
fat head; he was mounted on a tortoise, that waddled, now this way, now
that, without keeping any one direction.

One of these monsters, who had something approaching the human form,
though he had the neck, ears, and muzzle of a dog, set himself to bark
furiously at Rogero, to make him turn off to the right, and reenter
upon the road to the gay city; but the brave chevalier exclaimed, "That
will I not, so long as I can use this sword,"--and he thrust the point
directly at his face. The monster tried to strike him with a lance, but
Rogero was too quick for him, and thrust his sword through his body, so
that it appeared a hand's breadth behind his back. The paladin, now
giving full vent to his rage, laid about him vigorously among the
rabble, cleaving one to the teeth, another to the girdle; but the troop
were so numerous, and in spite of his blows pressed around him so
close, that, to clear his way, he must have had as many arms as
Briareus.

If Rogero had uncovered the shield of the enchanter, which hung at his
saddle-bow, he might easily have vanquished this monstrous rout; but
perhaps he did not think of it, and perhaps he preferred to seek his
defence nowhere but in his good sword. At that moment, when his
perplexity was at its height, he saw issue from the city gate two young
beauties, whose air and dress proclaimed their rank and gentle nurture.
Each of them was mounted on a unicorn, whose whiteness surpassed that
of ermine. They advanced to the meadow where Rogero was contending so
valiantly against the hobgoblins, who all retired at their approach.
They drew near, they extended their hands to the young warrior, whose
cheeks glowed with the flush of exercise and modesty. Grateful for
their assistance, he expressed his thanks, and, having no heart to
refuse them, followed their guidance to the gate of the city.

This grand and beautiful entrance was adorned by a portico of four vast
columns, all of diamond. Whether they were real diamond or artificial I
cannot say. What matter is it, so long as they appeared to the eye like
diamond, and nothing could be more gay and splendid.

On the threshold, and between the columns, was seen a bevy of charming
young women, who played and frolicked together. They all ran to receive
Rogero, and conducted him into the palace, which appeared like a
paradise.

We might well call by that name this abode, where the hours flew by,
without account, in ever-new delights. The bare idea of satiety, want,
and, above all, of age, never entered the minds of the inhabitants.
They experienced no sensations except those of luxury and gayety; the
cup of happiness seemed for them ever-flowing and exhaustless. The two
young damsels to whom Rogero owed his deliverance from the hobgoblins
conducted him to the apartment of their mistress. The beautiful Alcina
advanced, and greeted him with an air at once dignified and courteous.
All her court surrounded the paladin, and rendered him the most
flattering attentions. The castle was less admirable for its
magnificence than for the charms of those who inhabited it. They were
of either sex, well matched in beauty, youth, and grace; but among this
charming group the brilliant Alcina shone, as the sun outshines the
stars. The young warrior was fascinated. All that he had heard from the
myrtle-tree appeared to him but a vile calumny. How could he suspect
that falsehood and treason veiled themselves under smiles and the
ingenuous air of truth? He doubted not that Astolpho had deserved his
fate, and perhaps a punishment more severe; he regarded all his stories
as dictated by a disappointed spirit, and a thirst for revenge. But we
must not condemn Rogero too harshly, for he was the victim of magic
power.

They seated themselves at table, and immediately harmonious lyres and
harps waked the air with the most ravishing notes. The charms of poetry
were added in entertaining recitals; the magnificence of the feast
would have done credit to a royal board. The traitress forgot nothing
which might charm the paladin, and attach him to the spot, meaning,
when she should grow tired of him, to metamorphose him as she had done
others. In the same manner passed each succeeding day. Games of
pleasant exercise, the chase, the dance, or rural sports, made the
hours pass quickly; while they gave zest to the refreshment of the
bath, or sleep.

Thus Rogero led a life of ease and luxury, while Charlemagne and
Agramant were struggling for empire. But I cannot linger with him while
the amiable and courageous Bradamante is night and day directing her
uncertain steps to every spot where the slightest chance invites her,
in the hope of recovering Rogero.

I will therefore say that, having sought him in vain in fields and in
cities, she knew not whither next to direct her steps. She did not
apprehend the death of Rogero. The fall of such a hero would have
reechoed from the Hydaspes to the farthest river of the West; but, not
knowing whether he was on the earth or in the air, she concluded, as a
last resource, to return to the cavern which contained the tomb of
Merlin, to ask of him some sure direction to the object of her search.

While this thought occupied her mind, Melissa, the sage enchantress,
suddenly appeared before her. This virtuous and beneficent magician had
discovered by her spells that Rogero was passing his time in pleasure
and idleness, forgetful of his honor and his sovereign. Not able to
endure the thought that one who was born to be a hero should waste his
years in base repose, and leave a sullied reputation in the memory of
survivors, she saw that vigorous measures must be employed to draw him
forth into the paths of virtue. Melissa was not blinded by her
affection for the amiable paladin, like Atlantes, who, intent only on
preserving Rogero's life, cared nothing for his fame. It was that old
enchanter whose arts had guided the Hippogriff to the isle of the too
charming Alcina, where he hoped his favorite would learn to forget
honor, and lose the love of glory.

At the sight of Melissa joy lighted up the countenance of Bradamante,
and hope animated her breast. Melissa concealed nothing from her, but
told her how Rogero was in the toils of Alcina. Bradamante was plunged
in grief and terror; but the kind enchantress calmed her, dispelled her
fears, and promised that before many days she would lead back the
paladin to her feet.

"My daughter," she said, "give me the ring which you wear, and which
possesses the power to overcome enchantments. By means of it I doubt
not but that I may enter the stronghold where the false Alcina holds
Rogero in durance, and may succeed in vanquishing her and liberating
him." Bradamante unhesitatingly delivered her the ring, recommending
Rogero to her best efforts. Melissa then summoned by her art a huge
palfrey, black as jet, excepting one foot, which was bay. Mounted upon
this animal, she rode with such speed that by the next morning she had
reached the abode of Alcina.

She here transformed herself into the perfect resemblance of the old
magician Atlantes, adding a palm-breadth to her height, and enlarging
her whole figure. Her chin she covered with a long beard, and seamed
her whole visage well with wrinkles. She assumed also his voice and
manner, and watched her chance to find Rogero alone. At last she found
him, dressed in a rich tunic of silk and gold, a collar of precious
stones about his neck, and his arms, once so rough with exercise,
decorated with bracelets. His air and his every motion indicated
effeminacy, and he seemed to retain nothing of Rogero but the name;
such power had the enchantress obtained over him.

Melissa, under the form of his old instructor, presented herself before
him, wearing a stern and serious visage. "Is this, then," she said,
"the fruit of all my labors? Is it for this that I fed you on the
marrow of bears and lions, that I taught you to subdue dragons, and,
like Hercules, strangle serpents in your youthful grasp, only to make
you, by all my cares, a feeble Adonis? My nightly watchings of the
stars, of the yet warm fibres of animals, the lots I have cast, the
points of nativity that I have calculated, have they all falsely
indicated that you were born for greatness? Who could have believed
that you would become the slave of a base enchantress? O Rogero, learn
to know this Alcina, learn to understand her arts and to countervail
them. Take this ring, place it on your finger, return to her presence,
and see for yourself what are her real charms."

At these words, Rogero, confused, abashed, cast his eyes upon the
ground, and knew not what to answer. Melissa seized the moment, slipped
the ring on his finger, and the paladin was himself again. What a
thunderclap to him! Overcome by shame, he dared not to encounter the
looks of his instructor. When at last he raised his eyes he beheld not
that venerable form, but the priestess Melissa, who in virtue of the
ring now appeared in her true person. She told him of the motives which
had led her to come to his rescue, of the griefs and regrets of
Bradamante, and of her unwearied search for him. "That charming
Amazon," she said, "sends you this ring, which is a sovereign antidote
to all enchantments. She would have sent you her heart in my hands, if
it would have had greater power to serve you."

It was needless for Melissa to say more. Rogero's love for Alcina,
being but the work of enchantment, vanished as soon as the enchantment
was withdrawn, and he now hated her with an equal intensity, seeing no
longer anything in her but her vices, and feeling only resentment for
the shame that she had put upon him.

His surprise when he again beheld Alcina was no less than his
indignation. Fortified by his ring from her enchantments, he saw her as
she was, a monster of ugliness. All her charms were artificial, and,
truly viewed, were rather deformities. She was, in fact, older than
Hecuba or the Sibyl of Cumae; but an art, which it is to be regretted
our times have lost, enabled her to appear charming, and to clothe
herself in all the attractions of youth. Rogero now saw all this, but,
governed by the counsels of Melissa, he concealed his surprise, assumed
under some pretext his armor, long neglected, and bound to his side
Belisarda, his trusty sword, taking also the buckler of Atlantes,
covered with its veil.

He then selected a horse from the stables of Alcina, without exciting
her suspicions; but he left the Hippogriff, by the advice of Melissa,
who promised to take him in charge, and train him to a more manageable
state. The horse he took was Rabican, which belonged to Astolpho. He
restored the ring to Melissa.

Rogero had not ridden far when he met one of the huntsmen of Alcina,
bearing a falcon on his wrist, and followed by a dog. The huntsman was
mounted on a powerful horse, and came boldly up to the paladin,
demanding, in a somewhat imperious manner, whither he was going so
rapidly. Rogero disdained to stop or to reply; whereupon the huntsman,
not doubting that he was about making his escape, said, "What if I,
with my falcon, stop your ride?" So saying, he threw off the bird,
which even Rabican could not equal in speed. The huntsman then leapt
from his horse, and the animal, open-mouthed, darted after Rogero with
the swiftness of an arrow. The huntsman also ran as if the wind or fire
bore him, and the dog was equal to Rabican in swiftness. Rogero,
finding flight impossible, stopped and faced his pursuers; but his
sword was useless against such foes. The insolent huntsman assailed him
with words, and struck him with his whip, the only weapon he had; the
dog bit his feet, and the horse drove at him with his hoofs. At the
same time the falcon flew over his head and over Rabican's and attacked
them with claws and wings, so that the horse in his fright began to be
unmanageable. At that moment the sound of trumpets and cymbals was
heard in the valley, and it was evident that Alcina had ordered out all
her array to go in pursuit. Rogero felt that there was no time to be
lost, and luckily remembered the shield of Atlantes, which he bore
suspended from his neck. He unveiled it, and the charm worked
wonderfully. The huntsman, the dog, the horse, fell flat; the trembling
wings of the falcon could no longer sustain her, and she fell senseless
to the ground. Rogero, rid of their annoyances, left them in their
trance, and rode away.

Meanwhile Alcina, with all the force she could muster, sallied forth
from her palace in pursuit. Melissa, left behind, took advantage of the
opportunity to ransack all the rooms, protected by the ring. She undid
one by one all the talismans and spells which she found, broke the
seals, burned the images, and untied the hagknots. Thence, hurrying
through the fields, she disenchanted the victims changed into trees,
fountains, stones, or brutes; all of whom recovered their liberty, and
vowed eternal gratitude to their deliverer. They made their escape,
with all possible despatch, to the realms of the good Logestilla,
whence they departed to their several homes.

Astolpho was the first whom Melissa liberated, for Rogero had
particularly recommended him to her care. She aided him to recover his
arms, and particularly that precious golden-headed lance which once was
Argalia's. The enchantress mounted with him upon the winged horse, and
in a short time arrived through the air at the castle of Logestilla,
where Rogero joined them soon after.

In this abode the friends passed a short period of delightful and
improving intercourse with the sage Logestilla and her virtuous court;
and then each departed, Rogero with the Hippogriff, ring, and buckler;
Astolpho with his golden lance, and mounted on Rabican, the fleetest of
steeds. To Rogero Logestilla gave a bit and bridle suited to govern the
Hippogriff; and to Astolpho a horn of marvellous powers, to be sounded
only when all other weapons were unavailing.



THE ORC

We left the charming Angelica at the moment when, in her flight from
her contending lovers, Sacripant and Rinaldo, she met an aged hermit.
We have seen that her request to the hermit was to furnish her the
means of gaining the sea-coast, eager to avoid Rinaldo, whom she hated,
by leaving France and Europe itself. The pretended hermit, who was no
other than a vile magician, knowing well that it would not be agreeable
to his false gods to aid Angelica in this undertaking, feigned to
comply with her desire. He supplied her a horse, into which he had by
his arts caused a subtle devil to enter, and, having mounted Angelica
on the animal, directed her what course to take to reach the sea.

Angelica rode on her way without suspicion, but when arrived at the
shore, the demon urged the animal headlong into the water. Angelica in
vain attempted to turn him back to the land; he continued his course
till, as night approached, he landed with his burden on a sandy
headland.

Angelica, finding herself alone, abandoned in this frightful solitude,
remained without movement, as if stupefied, with hands joined and eyes
turned towards heaven, till at last, pouring forth a torrent of tears,
she exclaimed: "Cruel fortune, have you not yet exhausted your rage
against me? To what new miseries do you doom me? Alas! then finish your
work! Deliver me a prey to some ferocious beast, or by whatever fate
you choose bring me to an end. I will be thankful to you for
terminating my life and my misery." At last, exhausted by her sorrows,
she fell asleep, and sunk prostrate on the sand.

Before recounting what next befell, we must declare what place it was
upon which the unhappy lady was now thrown. In the sea that washes the
coast of Ireland there is an island called Ebuda, whose inhabitants,
once numerous, had been wasted by the anger of Proteus till there were
now but few left. This deity was incensed by some neglect of the usual
honors which he had in old times received from the inhabitants of the
land, and, to execute his vengeance, had sent a horrid sea-monster,
called an Orc, to devour them. Such were the terrors of his ravages
that the whole people of the isle had shut themselves up in the
principal town, and relied on their walls alone to protect them. In
this distress they applied to the Oracle for advice, and were directed
to appease the wrath of the sea-monster by offering to him the fairest
virgin that the country could produce.

Now it so happened that the very day when this dreadful oracle was
announced, and when the fatal mandate had gone forth to seek among the
fairest maidens of the land one to be offered to the monster, some
sailors, landing on the beach where Angelica was, beheld that beauty as
she lay asleep.

O blind Chance! whose power in human affairs is but too great, canst
thou then abandon to the teeth of a horrible monster those charms which
different sovereigns took arms against one another to possess? Alas!
the lovely Angelica is destined to be the victim of those cruel
islanders.

Still asleep, she was bound by the Ebudians, and it was not until she
was carried on board the vessel that she came to a knowledge of her
situation. The wind filled the sails and wafted the ship swiftly to the
port, where all that beheld her agreed that she was unquestionably the
victim selected by Proteus himself to be his prey. Who can tell the
screams, the mortal anguish of this unhappy maiden, the reproaches she
addressed even to the heavens themselves, when the dreadful information
of her cruel fate was made known to her? I cannot; let me rather turn
to a happier part of my story.

Rogero left the palace of Logestilla, careering on his flying courser
far above the tops of the mountains, and borne westward by the
Hippogriff, which he guided with ease, by means of the bridle that
Melissa had given him. Anxious as he was to recover Bradamante, he
could not fail to be delighted at the view his rapid flight presented
of so many vast regions and populous countries as he passed over in his
career. At last he approached the shores of England, and perceived an
immense army in all the splendor of military pomp, as if about to go
forth flushed with hopes of victory. He caused the Hippogriff to alight
not far from the scene, and found himself immediately surrounded by
admiring spectators, knights and soldiers, who could not enough indulge
their curiosity and wonder. Rogero learned, in reply to his questions,
that the fine array of troops before him was the army destined to go to
the aid of the French Emperor, in compliance with the request presented
by the illustrious Rinaldo, as ambassador of King Charles, his uncle.

By this time the curiosity of the English chevaliers was partly
gratified in beholding the Hippogriff at rest, and Rogero, to renew
their surprise and delight, remounted the animal, and, slapping spurs
to his sides, made him launch into the air with the rapidity of a
meteor, and directed his flight still westwardly, till he came within
sight of the coasts of Ireland. Here he descried what seemed to be a
fair damsel, alone, fast chained to a rock which projected into the
sea. What was his astonishment when, drawing nigh, he beheld the
beautiful princess Angelica! That day she had been led forth and bound
to the rock, there to wait till the sea-monster should come to devour
her. Rogero exclaimed as he came near, "What cruel hands, what
barbarous soul, what fatal chance can have loaded thee with those
chains?" Angelica replied by a torrent of tears, at first her only
response; then, in a trembling voice, she disclosed to him the horrible
destiny for which she was there exposed. While she spoke, a terrible
roaring was heard far off on the sea. The huge monster soon came in
sight, part of his body appearing above the waves and part concealed.
Angelica, half dead with fear, abandoned herself to despair.

Rogero, lance in rest, spurred his Hippogriff toward the Orc, and gave
him a thrust. The horrible monster was like nothing that nature
produces. It was but one mass of tossing and twisting body, with
nothing of the animal but head, eyes, and mouth, the last furnished
with tusks like those of the wild boar. Rogero's lance had struck him
between the eyes; but rock and iron are not more impenetrable than were
his scales. The knight, seeing the fruitlessness of the first blow,
prepared to give a second. The animal, beholding upon the water the
shadow of the great wings of the Hippogriff, abandoned his prey, and
turned to seize what seemed nearer. Rogero took the opportunity, and
dealt him furious blows on various parts of his body, taking care to
keep clear of his murderous teeth; but the scales resisted every
attack. The Orc beat the water with his tail till he raised a foam
which enveloped Rogero and his steed, so that the knight hardly knew
whether he was in the water or the air. He began to fear that the wings
of the Hippogriff would be so drenched with water that they would cease
to sustain him. At that moment Rogero bethought him of the magic shield
which hung at his saddle-bow; but the fear that Angelica would also be
blinded by its glare discouraged him from employing it. Then he
remembered the ring which Melissa had given him, the power of which he
had so lately proved. He hastened to Angelica and placed it on her
finger. Then, uncovering the buckler, he turned its bright disk full in
the face of the detestable Orc. The effect was instantaneous. The
monster, deprived of sense and motion, rolled over on the sea, and lay
floating on his back. Rogero would fain have tried the effect of his
lance on the now exposed parts, but Angelica implored him to lose no
time in delivering her from her chains before the monster should
revive. Rogero, moved with her entreaties, hastened to do so, and,
having unbound her, made her mount behind him on the Hippogriff. The
animal, spurning the earth, shot up into the air, and rapidly sped his
way through it. Rogero, to give time to the princess to rest after her
cruel agitations, soon sought the earth again, alighting on the shore
of Brittany. Near the shore a thick wood presented itself, which
resounded with the songs of birds. In the midst, a fountain of
transparent water bathed the turf of a little meadow. A gentle hill
rose near by. Rogero, making the Hippogriff alight in the meadow,
dismounted, and took Angelica from the horse.

When the first tumults of emotion had subsided Angelica, casting her
eyes downward, beheld the precious ring upon her finger, whose virtues
she was well acquainted with, for it was the very ring which the
Saracen Brunello had robbed her of. She drew it from her finger and
placed it in her mouth, and, quicker than we can tell it, disappeared
from the sight of the paladin.

Rogero looked around him on all sides, like one frantic, but soon
remembered the ring which he had so lately placed on her finger. Struck
with the ingratitude which could thus recompense his services, he
exclaimed: "Thankless beauty, is this then the reward you make me? Do
you prefer to rob me of my ring rather than receive it as a gift?
Willingly would I have given it to you, had you but asked it." Thus he
said, searching on all sides with arms extended like a blind man,
hoping to recover by the touch what was lost to sight; but he sought in
vain. The cruel beauty was already far away.

Though sensible of her obligations to her deliverer, her first
necessity was for clothing, food, and repose. She soon reached a
shepherd's hut, where, entering unseen, she found what sufficed for her
present relief. An old herdsman inhabited the hut, whose charges
consisted of a drove of mares. When recruited by repose Angelica
selected one of the mares from the flock, and, mounting the animal,
felt the desire revive in her mind of returning to her home in the
East, and for that purpose would gladly have accepted the protection of
Orlando or of Sacripant across those wide regions which divided her
from her own country. In hopes of meeting with one or the other of them
she pursued her way.

Meanwhile Rogero, despairing of seeing Angelica again, returned to the
tree where he had left his winged horse, but had the mortification to
find that the animal had broken his bridle and escaped. This loss,
added to his previous disappointment, overwhelmed him with vexation.
Sadly he gathered up his arms, threw his buckler over his shoulders,
and, taking the first path that offered, soon found himself within the
verge of a dense and widespread forest.

He had proceeded for some distance when he heard a noise on his right,
and, listening attentively, distinguished the clash of arms. He made
his way toward the place whence the sound proceeded, and found two
warriors engaged in mortal combat. One of them was a knight of a noble
and manly bearing, the other a fierce giant. The knight appeared to
exert consummate address in defending herself against the massive club
of the giant, evading his strokes, or parrying them with sword or
shield. Rogero stood spectator of the combat, for he did not allow
himself to interfere in it, though a secret sentiment inclined him
strongly to take part with the knight. At length he saw with grief the
massive club fall directly on the head of the knight, who yielded to
the blow, and fell prostrate. The giant sprang forward to despatch him,
and for that purpose unlaced his helmet, when Rogero, with dismay,
recognized the face of Bradamante. He cried aloud, "Hold, miscreant!"
and sprang forward with drawn sword. Whereupon the giant, as if he
cared not to enter upon another combat, lifted Bradamante on his
shoulders, and ran with her into the forest.

Rogero plunged after him, but the long legs of the giant carried him
forward so fast that the paladin could hardly keep him in sight. At
length they issued from the wood, and Rogero perceived before him a
rich palace, built of marble, and adorned with sculptures executed by a
master hand. Into this edifice, through a golden door, the giant
passed, and Rogero followed; but, on looking round, saw nowhere either
the giant or Bradamante. He ran from room to room, calling aloud on his
cowardly foe to turn and meet him; but got no response, nor caught
another glimpse of the giant or his prey. In his vain pursuit he met,
without knowing them, Ferrau, Florismart, King Gradasso, Orlando, and
many others, all of whom had been entrapped like himself into this
enchanted castle. It was a new stratagem of the magician Atlantes to
draw Rogero into his power, and to secure also those who might by any
chance endanger his safety. What Rogero had taken for Bradamante was a
mere phantom. That charming lady was far away, full of anxiety for her
Rogero, whose coming she had long expected.

The Emperor had committed to her charge the city and garrison of
Marseilles, and she held the post against the infidels with valor and
discretion. One day Melissa suddenly presented herself before her.
Anticipating her questions, she said, "Fear not for Rogero; he lives,
and is as ever true to you; but he has lost his liberty. The fell
enchanter has again succeeded in making him a prisoner. If you would
deliver him, mount your horse and follow me." She told her in what
manner Atlantes had deceived Rogero, in deluding his eyes with the
phantom of herself in peril. "Such," she continued, "will be his arts
in your own case, if you penetrate the forest and approach that castle.
You will think you behold Rogero, when, in fact, you see only the
enchanter himself. Be not deceived, plunge your sword into his body,
and trust me when I tell you that, in slaying him, you will restore not
only Rogero, but with him many of the bravest knights of France, whom
the wizard's arts have withdrawn from the camp of their sovereign."

Bradamante promptly armed herself, and mounted her horse. Melissa led
her by forced journeys, by field and forest, beguiling the way with
conversation on the theme which interested her hearer most. When at
last they reached the forest, she repeated once more her instructions,
and then took her leave, for fear the enchanter might espy her, and be
put on his guard.

Bradamante rode on about two miles when suddenly she beheld Rogero, as
it appeared to her, hard pressed by two fierce giants. While she
hesitated she heard his voice calling on her for help. At once the
cautions of Melissa lost their weight. A sudden doubt of the faith and
truth of her kind monitress flashed across her mind. "Shall I not
believe my own eyes and ears?" she said, and rushed forward to his
defence. Rogero fled, pursued by the giants, and Bradamante followed,
passing with them through the castle gate. When there, Bradamante was
undeceived, for neither giant nor knight was to be seen. She found
herself a prisoner, but had not the consolation of knowing that she
shared the imprisonment of her beloved. She saw various forms of men
and women, but could recognize none of them; and their lot was the same
with respect to her. Each viewed the others under some illusion of the
fancy, wearing the semblance of giants, dwarfs, or even four-footed
animals, so that there was no companionship or communication between
them.



ASTOLPHO'S ADVENTURES CONTINUED, AND ISABELLA'S BEGUN

When Astolpho escaped from the cruel Alcina, after a short abode in the
realm of the virtuous Logestilla, he desired to return to his native
country. Logestilla lent him the best vessel of her fleet to convey him
to the mainland. She gave him at parting a wonderful book, which taught
the secret of overcoming all manners of enchantments, and begged him to
carry it always with him, out of regard for her. She also gave him
another gift, which surpassed everything of the kind that mortal
workmanship can frame; yet it was nothing in appearance but a simple
horn.

Astolpho, protected by these gifts, thanked the good fairy, took leave
of her, and set out on his return to France. His voyage was prosperous,
and on reaching the desired port he took leave of the faithful
mariners, and continued his journey by land. As he proceeded over
mountains and through valleys he often met with bands of robbers, wild
beasts, and venomous serpents, but he had only to sound his horn to put
them all to flight.

Having landed in France, and traversed many provinces on his way to the
army, he one day, in crossing a forest, arrived beside a fountain, and
alighted to drink. While he stooped at the fountain a young rustic
sprang from the copse, mounted Rabican, and rode away. It was a new
trick of the enchanter Atlantes. Astolpho, hearing the noise, turned
his head just in time to see his loss; and, starting up, pursued the
thief, who, on his part, did not press the horse to his full speed, but
just kept in sight of his pursuer till they both issued from the
forest; and then Rabican and his rider took shelter in a castle which
stood near. Astolpho followed, and penetrated without difficulty within
the court-yard of the castle, where he looked around for the rider and
his horse, but could see no trace of either, nor any person of whom he
could make inquiry. Suspecting that enchantment was employed to
embarrass him, he bethought him of his book, and on consulting it
discovered that his suspicions were well founded. He also learned what
course to pursue. He was directed to raise the stone which served as a
threshold, under which a spirit lay pent, who would willingly escape,
and leave the castle free of access. Astolpho applied his strength to
lift aside the stone. Thereupon the magician put his arts in force. The
castle was full of prisoners, and the magician caused that to all of
them Astolpho should appear in some false guise--to some a wild beast,
to others a giant, to others a bird of prey. Thus all assailed him, and
would quickly have made an end of him, if he had not bethought him of
his horn. No sooner had he blown a blast than, at the horrid larum,
fled the cavaliers and the necromancer with them, like a flock of
pigeons at the sound of the fowler's gun. Astolpho then renewed his
efforts on the stone, and turned it over. The under face was all
inscribed with magical characters, which the knight defaced, as
directed by his book; and no sooner had he done so, than the castle,
with its walls and turrets, vanished into smoke.

The knights and ladies set at liberty were, besides Rogero and
Bradamante, Orlando, Gradasso, Florismart, and many more. At the sound
of the horn they fled, one and all, men and steeds, except Rabican,
which Astolpho secured, in spite of his terror. As soon as the sound
had ceased Rogero recognized Bradamante, whom he had daily met during
their imprisonment, but had been prevented from knowing by the
enchanter's arts. No words can tell the delight with which they
recognized each other, and recounted mutually all that had happened to
each since they were parted. Rogero took advantage of the opportunity
to press his suit, and found Bradamante as propitious as he could wish,
were it not for a single obstacle, the difference of their faiths. "If
he would obtain her in marriage," she said, "he must in due form demand
her of her father, Duke Aymon, and must abandon his false prophet, and
become a Christian." The latter step was one which Rogero had for some
time intended taking, for reasons of his own. He therefore gladly
accepted the terms, and proposed that they should at once repair to the
abbey of Vallombrosa, whose towers were visible at no great distance.
Thither they turned their horses' heads, and we will leave them to find
their way without our company.

I know not if my readers recollect that at the moment when Rogero had
just delivered Angelica from the voracious Orc that scornful beauty
placed her ring in her mouth, and vanished out of sight. At the same
time the Hippogriff shook off his bridle, soared away, and flew to
rejoin his former master, very naturally returning to his accustomed
stable. Here Astolpho found him, to his very great delight. He knew the
animal's powers, having seen Rogero ride him, and he longed to fly
abroad over all the earth, and see various nations and peoples from his
airy course. He had heard Logestilla's directions how to guide the
animal, and saw her fit a bridle to his head. He therefore was able,
out of all the bridles he found in the stable, to select one suitable,
and, placing Rabican's saddle on the Hippogriff's back, nothing seemed
to prevent his immediate departure. Yet before he went he bethought him
of placing Rabican in hands where he would be safe, and whence he might
recover him in time of need. While he stood deliberating where he
should find a messenger, he saw Bradamante approach. That fair warrior
had been parted from Rogero on their way to the abbey of Vallombrosa,
by an inopportune adventure which had called the knight away. She was
now returning to Montalban, having arranged with Rogero to join her
there. To Bradamante, therefore, his fair cousin, Astolpho committed
Rabican, and also the lance of gold, which would only be an incumbrance
in his aerial excursion. Bradamante took charge of both; and Astolpho,
bidding her farewell, soared in air.

Among those delivered by Astolpho from the magician's castle was
Orlando. Following the guide of chance, the paladin found himself at
the close of day in a forest, and stopped at the foot of a mountain.
Surprised to discern a light which came from a cleft in the rock, he
approached, guided by the ray, and discovered a narrow passage in the
mountain-side, which led into a deep grotto.

Orlando fastened his horse, and then, putting aside the bushes that
resisted his passage, stepped down from rock to rock till he reached a
sort of cavern. Entering it, he perceived a lady, young and handsome,
as well as he could discover through the signs of distress which
agitated her countenance. Her only companion was an old woman, who
seemed to be regarded by her young partner with terror and indignation.
The courteous paladin saluted the women respectfully, and begged to
know by whose barbarity they had been subjected to such imprisonment.

The younger lady replied, in a voice often broken with sobs:

"Though I know well that my recital will subject me to worse treatment
by the barbarous man who keeps me here, to whom this woman will not
fail to report it, yet I will not hide from you the facts. Ah! why
should I fear his rage? If he should take my life, I know not what
better boon than death I can ask.

"My name is Isabella. I am the daughter of the king of Galicia, or
rather I should say misfortune and grief are my parents. Young, rich,
modest, and of tranquil temper, all things appeared to combine to
render my lot happy. Alas! I see myself to-day poor, humbled,
miserable, and destined perhaps to yet further afflictions. It is a
year since, my father having given notice that he would open the lists
for a tournament at Bayonne, a great number of chevaliers from all
quarters came together at our court. Among these Zerbino, son of the
king of Scotland, victorious in all combats, eclipsed by his beauty and
his valor all the rest. Before departing from the court of Galicia he
testified the wish to espouse me, and I consented that he should demand
my hand of the king, my father. But I was a Mahometan, and Zerbino a
Christian, and my father refused his consent. The prince, called home
by his father to take command of the forces destined to the assistance
of the French Emperor, prevailed on me to be married to him secretly,
and to follow him to Scotland. He caused a galley to be prepared to
receive me, and placed in command of it the chevalier Oderic, a
Biscayan, famous for his exploits both by land and sea. On the day
appointed, Oderic brought his vessel to a seaside resort of my
father's, where I embarked. Some of my domestics accompanied me, and
thus I departed from my native land.

"Sailing with a fair wind, after some hours we were assailed by a
violent tempest. It was to no purpose that we took in all sail; we were
driven before the wind directly upon the rocky shore. Seeing no other
hopes of safety, Oderic placed me in a boat, followed himself with a
few of his men, and made for land. We reached it through infinite
peril, and I no sooner felt the firm land beneath my feet, than I knelt
down and poured out heartfelt thanks to the Providence that had
preserved me.

"The shore where we landed appeared to be uninhabited. We saw no
dwelling to shelter us, no road to lead us to a more hospitable spot. A
high mountain rose before us, whose base stretched into the sea. It was
here the infamous Oderic, in spite of my tears and entreaties, sold me
to a band of pirates, who fancied I might be an acceptable present to
their prince, the Sultan of Morocco. This cavern is their den, and here
they keep me under the guard of this woman, until it shall suit their
convenience to carry me away."

Isabella had hardly finished her recital when a troop of armed men
began to enter the cavern. Seeing the prince Orlando, one said to the
rest, "What bird is this we have caught, without even setting a snare
for him?" Then addressing Orlando, "It was truly civil in you, friend,
to come hither with that handsome coat of armor and vest, the very
things I want." "You shall pay for them, then," said Orlando; and
seizing a half-burnt brand from the fire, he hurled it at him, striking
his head, and stretching him lifeless on the floor.

There was a massy table in the middle of the cavern, used for the
pirates' repasts. Orlando lifted it and hurled it at the robbers as
they stood clustered in a group toward the entrance. Half the gang were
laid prostrate, with broken heads and limbs; the rest got away as
nimbly as they could.

Leaving the den and its inmates to their fate, Orlando, taking Isabella
under his protection, pursued his way for some days, without meeting
with any adventure.

One day they saw a band of men advancing, who seemed to be guarding a
prisoner, bound hand and foot, as if being carried to execution. The
prisoner was a youthful cavalier, of a noble and ingenuous appearance.
The band bore the ensigns of Count Anselm, head of the treacherous
house of Maganza. Orlando desired Isabella to wait, while he rode
forward to inquire the meaning of this array. Approaching, he demanded
of the leader who his prisoner was, and of what crime he had been
guilty. The man replied that the prisoner was a murderer, by whose hand
Pinabel, the son of Count Anselm, had been treacherously slain. At
these words the prisoner exclaimed, "I am no murderer, nor have I been
in any way the cause of the young man's death." Orlando, knowing the
cruel and ferocious character of the chiefs of the house of Maganza,
needed no more to satisfy him that the youth was the victim of
injustice. He commanded the leader of the troop to release his victim,
and, receiving an insolent reply, dashed him to the earth with a stroke
of his lance; then by a few vigorous blows dispersed the band, leaving
deadly marks on those who were slowest to quit the field.

Orlando then hastened to unbind the prisoner, and to assist him to
reclothe himself in his armor, which the false Magencian had dared to
assume. He then led him to Isabella, who now approached the scene of
action. How can we picture the joy, the astonishment, with which
Isabella recognized in him Zerbino, her husband, and the prince
discovered her whom he had believed overwhelmed in the waves! They
embraced one another, and wept for joy. Orlando, sharing in their
happiness, congratulated himself in having been the instrument of it.
The princess recounted to Zerbino what the illustrious paladin had done
for her, and the prince threw himself at Orlando's feet, and thanked
him as having twice preserved his life.

While these exchanges of congratulation and thankfulness were going on,
a sound in the underwood attracted their attention, and caused the two
knights to brace their helmets and stand on their guard. What the cause
of the interruption was we shall record in another chapter.



MEDORO

France was at this time the theatre of dreadful events. The Saracens
and the Christians, in numerous encounters, slew one another. On one
occasion Rinaldo led an attack on the infidel columns, broke and
scattered them, till he found himself opposite to a knight whose armor
(whether by accident or by choice, it matters not) bore the blazon of
Orlando. It was Dardinel, the young and brave prince of Zumara, and
Rinaldo remarked him by the slaughter he spread all around. "Ah," said
he to himself, "let us pluck up this dangerous plant before it has
grown to its full height."

As Rinaldo advanced, the crowd opened before him, the Christians to let
his sword have free course, the Pagans to escape its sweep. Dardinel
and he stood face to face. Rinaldo exclaimed, fiercely, "Young man,
whoever gave you that noble buckler to bear made you a dangerous gift;
I should like to see how you are able to defend those quarterings, red
and white. If you cannot defend them against me, how pray will you do
so when Orlando challenges them?" Dardinel replied: "Thou shalt learn
that I can defend the arms I bear, and shed new glory upon them. No one
shall rend them from me but with life." Saying these words, Dardinel
rushed upon Rinaldo with sword uplifted. The chill of mortal terror
filled the souls of the Saracens when they beheld Rinaldo advance to
attack the prince, like a lion against a young bull. The first blow
came from the hand of Dardinel, and the weapon rebounded from
Mambrino's helmet without effect. Rinaldo smiled, and said, "I will now
show you if my strokes are more effectual." At these words he thrust
the unfortunate Dardinel in the middle of his breast. The blow was so
violent that the cruel weapon pierced the body, and came out a
palm-breadth behind his back. Through this wound the life of Dardinel
issued with his blood, and his body fell helpless to the ground.

As a flower which the passing plough has uprooted languishes, and
droops its head, so Dardinel, his visage covered with the paleness of
death, expires, and the hopes of an illustrious race perish with him.

Like waters kept back by a dike, which, when the dike is broken, spread
abroad through all the country, so the Moors, no longer kept in column
by the example of Dardinel, fled in all directions. Rinaldo despised
too much such easy victories to pursue them; he wished for no combats
but with brave men. At the same time, the other paladins made terrible
slaughter of the Moors. Charles himself, Oliver, Guido, and Ogier the
Dane, carried death into their ranks on all sides.

The infidels seemed doomed to perish to a man on that dreadful day; but
the wise king, Marsilius, at last put some slight degree of method into
the general rout. He collected the remnant of the troops, formed them
into a battalion, and retreated in tolerable order to his camp. That
camp was well fortified by intrenchments and a broad ditch. Thither the
fugitives hastened, and by degrees all that remained of the Moorish
army was brought together there.

The Emperor might perhaps that night have crushed his enemy entirely;
but not thinking it prudent to expose his troops, fatigued as they
were, to an attack upon a camp so well fortified, he contented himself
with encompassing the enemy with his troops, prepared to make a regular
siege. During the night the Moors had time to see the extent of their
loss. Their tents resounded with lamentations. This warrior had to
mourn a brother, that a friend; many suffered with grievous wounds, all
trembled at the fate in store for them.

There were two young Moors, both of humble rank, who gave proof at that
time of attachment and fidelity rare in the history of man. Cloridan
and Medoro had followed their prince, Dardinel, to the wars of France.
Cloridan, a bold huntsman, combined strength with activity. Medoro was
a mere youth, his cheeks yet fair and blooming. Of all the Saracens, no
one united so much grace and beauty. His light hair was set off by his
black and sparkling eyes. The two friends were together on guard at the
rampart. About midnight they gazed on the scene in deep dejection.
Medoro, with tears in his eyes, spoke of the good prince Dardinel, and
could not endure the thought that his body should be cast out on the
plain, deprived of funeral honors. "O my friend," said he, "must then
the body of our prince be the prey of wolves and ravens? Alas! when I
remember how he loved me, I feel that if I should sacrifice my life to
do him honor, I should not do more than my duty. I wish, dear friend,
to seek out his body on the battlefield, and give it burial, and I hope
to be able to pass through King Charles's camp without discovery, as
they are probably all asleep. You, Cloridan, will be able to say for
me, if I should die in the adventure, that gratitude and fidelity to my
prince were my inducements."

Cloridan was both surprised and touched with this proof of the young
man's devotion. He loved him tenderly, and tried for a long time every
effort to dissuade him from his design; but he found Medoro determined
to accomplish his object or die in the endeavor.

Cloridan, unable to change his purpose, said, "I will go with you,
Medoro, and help you in this generous enterprise. I value not life
compared with honor, and if I did, do you suppose, dear friend, that I
could live without you? I would rather fall by the arms of our enemies
than die of grief for the loss of you."

When the two friends were relieved from their guard duty they went
without any followers into the camp of the Christians. All there was
still; the fires were dying out; there was no fear of any attempt on
the part of the Saracens, and the soldiers, overcome by fatigue or
wine, slept secure, lying upon the ground in the midst of their arms
and equipage. Cloridan stopped, and said, "Medoro, I am not going to
quit this camp without taking vengeance for the death of our prince.
Keep watch, be on your guard that no one shall surprise us; I mean to
mark a road with my sword through the ranks of our enemies." So saying,
he entered the tent where Alpheus slept, who a year before had joined
the camp of Charles, and pretended to be a great physician and
astrologer. But his science had deceived him, if it gave him hope of
dying peacefully in his bed at a good old age; his lot was to die with
little warning. Cloridan ran his sword through his heart. A Greek and a
German followed, who had been playing late at dice: fortunate if they
had continued their game a little longer; but they never reckoned a
throw like this among their chances. Cloridan next came to the unlucky
Grillon, whose head lay softly on his pillow. He dreamed probably of
the feast from which he had but just retired; for when Cloridan cut off
his head wine flowed forth with the blood.

The two young Moors might have penetrated even to the tent of
Charlemagne; but knowing that the paladins encamped around him kept
watch by turns, and judging that it was impossible they should all be
asleep, they were afraid to go too near. They might also have obtained
rich booty; but, intent only on their object, they crossed the camp,
and arrived at length at the bloody field, where bucklers, lances, and
swords lay scattered in the midst of corpses of poor and rich, common
soldier and prince, horses and pools of blood. This terrible scene of
carnage would have destroyed all hope of finding what they were in
search of until dawn of day, were it not that the moon lent the aid of
her uncertain rays.

Medoro raised his eyes to the planet, and exclaimed, "O holy goddess,
whom our fathers have adored under three different forms,--thou who
displayest thy power in heaven, on earth, and in the underworld,--thou
who art seen foremost among the nymphs chasing the beasts of the
forest,--cause me to see, I implore thee, the spot where my dear master
lies, and make me all my life long follow the example which thou dost
exhibit of works of charity and love."

Either by accident, or that the moon was sensible of the prayer of
Medoro, the cloud broke away, and the moonlight burst forth as bright
as day. The rays seemed especially to gild the spot where lay the body
of Prince Dardinel; and Medoro, bathed in tears and with bleeding
heart, recognized him by the quarterings of red and white on his shield.

With groans stifled by his tears, and lamentations in accents
suppressed, not from any fear for himself, for he cared not for life,
but lest any one should be roused to interrupt their pious duty while
yet incomplete, he proposed to his companion that they should together
bear Dardinel on their shoulders, sharing the burden of the beloved
remains.

Marching with rapid strides under their precious load, they perceived
that the stars began to grow pale, and that the shades of night would
soon be dispersed by the dawn. Just then Zerbino, whose extreme valor
had urged him far from the camp in pursuit of the fugitives, returning,
entered the wood in which they were. Some knights in his train
perceived at a distance the two brothers-in-arms. Cloridan saw the
troop, and, observing that they dispersed themselves over the plain as
if in search of booty, told Medoro to lay down the body, and let each
save himself by flight. He dropped his part, thinking that Medoro would
do the same; but the good youth loved his prince too well to abandon
him, and continued to carry his load singly as well as he might, while
Cloridan made his escape. Near by there was a part of the wood tufted
as if nothing but wild animals had ever penetrated it. The unfortunate
youth, loaded with the weight of his dead master, plunged into its
recesses.

Cloridan, when he perceived that he had evaded his foes, discovered
that Medoro was not with him. "Ah!" exclaimed he, "how could I, dear
Medoro, so forget myself as to consult my own safety without heeding
yours?" So saying, he retraced the tangled passes of the wood toward
the place from whence he had fled. As he approached he heard the noise
of horses, and the menacing voices of armed men. Soon he perceived
Medoro, on foot, with the cavaliers surrounding him. Zerbino, their
commander, bade them seize him. The unhappy Medoro turned now this way,
now that, trying to conceal himself behind an oak or a rock, still
bearing the body, which he would by no means leave. Cloridan not
knowing how to help him, but resolved to perish with him, if he must
perish, takes an arrow, fits it to his bow, discharges it, and pierces
the breast of a Christian knight, who falls helpless from his horse.
The others look this way and that, to discover whence the fatal bolt
was sped. One, while demanding of his comrades in what direction the
arrow came, received a second in his throat, which stopped his words,
and soon closed his eyes to the scene.

Zerbino, furious at the death of his two comrades, ran upon Medoro,
seized his golden hair, and dragged him forward to slay him. But the
sight of so much youth and beauty commanded pity. He stayed his arm.
The young man spoke in suppliant tones. "Ah! signor," said he, "I
conjure you by the God whom you serve, deprive me not of life until I
shall have buried the body of the prince, my master. Fear not that I
will ask you any other favor; life is not dear to me; I desire death as
soon as I shall have performed this sacred duty. Do with me then as you
please. Give my limbs a prey to the birds and beasts; only let me first
bury my prince." Medoro pronounced these words with an air so sweet and
tender that a heart of stone would have been moved by them. Zerbino was
so to the bottom of his soul. He was on the point of uttering words of
mercy, when a cruel subaltern, forgetting all respect to his commander,
plunged his lance into the breast of the young Moor. Zerbino, enraged
at his brutality, turned upon the wretch to take vengeance, but he
saved himself by a precipitate flight.

Cloridan, who saw Medoro fall, could contain himself no longer. He
rushed from his concealment, threw down his bow, and, sword in hand,
seemed only desirous of vengeance for Medoro, and to die with him. In a
moment, pierced through and through with many wounds, he exerts the
last remnant of his strength in dragging himself to Medoro, to die
embracing him. The cavaliers left them thus to rejoin Zerbino, whose
rage against the murderer of Medoro had drawn him away from the spot.

Cloridan died; and Medoro, bleeding copiously, was drawing near his end
when help arrived.

A young maiden approached the fallen knights at this critical moment.
Her dress was that of a peasant-girl, but her air was noble, and her
beauty celestial; sweetness and goodness reigned in her lovely
countenance. It was no other than Angelica, the Princess of Cathay.

When she had recovered that precious ring, as we have before related,
Angelica, knowing its value, felt proud in the power it conferred,
travelled alone without fear, not without a secret shame that she had
ever been obliged to seek protection in her wanderings of the Count
Orlando and of Sacripant. She reproached herself too as with a weakness
that she had ever thought of marrying Rinaldo; in fine, her pride grew
so high as to persuade her that no man living was worthy to aspire to
her hand.

Moved with pity at the sight of the young man wounded, and melted to
tears at hearing the cause, she quickly recalled to remembrance the
knowledge she had acquired in India, where the virtues of plants and
the art of healing formed part of the education even of princesses. The
beautiful queen ran into the adjoining meadow to gather plants of
virtue to staunch the flow of blood. Meeting on her way a countryman on
horseback seeking a strayed heifer, she begged him to come to her
assistance, and endeavor to remove the wounded man to a more secure
asylum.

Angelica, having prepared the plants by bruising them between two
stones, laid them with her fair hand on Medoro's wound. The remedy soon
restored in some degree the strength of the wounded man, who, before he
would quit the spot, made them cover with earth and turf the bodies of
his friend and of the prince. Then surrendering himself to the pity of
his deliverers, he allowed them to place him on the horse of the
shepherd, and conduct him to his cottage. It was a pleasant farmhouse
on the borders of the wood, bearing marks of comfort and competency.
There the shepherd lived with his wife and children. There Angelica
tended Medoro, and there, by the devoted care of the beautiful queen,
his sad wound closed over, and he recovered his perfect health.

O Count Rinaldo, O King Sacripant! what availed it you to possess so
many virtues and such fame? What advantage have you derived from all
your high deserts? O hapless king, great Agrican! if you could return
to life, how would you endure to see yourself rejected by one who will
bow to the yoke of Hymen in favor of a young soldier of humble birth?
And thou, Ferrau, and ye numerous others who a hundred times have put
your lives at hazard for this cruel beauty, how bitter will it be to
you to see her sacrifice you all to the claims of the humble Medoro!

There, under the low roof of a shepherd, the flame of Hymen was lighted
for this haughty queen. She takes the shepherd's wife to serve in place
of mother, the shepherd and his children for witnesses, and marries the
happy Medoro.

Angelica, after her marriage, wishing to endow Medoro with the
sovereignty of the countries which yet remained to her, took with him
the road to the East. She had preserved through all her adventures a
bracelet of gold enriched with precious stones, the present of the
Count Orlando. Having nothing else wherewith to reward the good
shepherd and his wife, who had served her with so much care and
fidelity, she took the bracelet from her arm and gave it to them, and
then the newly-married couple directed their steps toward those
mountains which separate France and Spain, intending to wait at
Barcelona a vessel which should take them on their way to the East.



ORLANDO MAD

Orlando, on the loss of Angelica, laid aside his crest and arms, and
arrayed himself in a suit of black armor expressive of his despair. In
this guise he carried such slaughter among the ranks of the infidels
that both armies were astonished at the achievements of the stranger
knight. Mandricardo, who had been absent from the battle, heard the
report of these achievements and determined to test for himself the
valor of the knight so extolled. He it was who broke in upon the
conference of Zerbino and Isabella, and their benefactor Orlando, as
they stood occupied in mutual felicitations, after the happy reunion of
the lovers by the prowess of the paladin.

Mandricardo, after contemplating the group for a moment, addressed
himself to Orlando in these words: "Thou must be the man I seek. For
ten days and more I have been on thy track. The fame of thy exploits
has brought me hither, that I may measure my strength with thine. Thy
crest and shield prove thee the same who spread such slaughter among
our troops. But these marks are superfluous, and if I saw thee among a
hundred I should know thee by thy martial bearing to be the man I seek."

"I respect thy courage," said Orlando; "such a design could not have
sprung up in any but a brave and generous soul. If the desire to see me
has brought thee hither, I would, if it were possible, show thee my
inmost soul. I will remove my visor, that you may satisfy your
curiosity; but when you have done so I hope that you will also try and
see if my valor corresponds to my appearance." "Come on," said the
Saracen, "my first wish was to see and know thee; I will not gratify my
second."

Orlando, observing Mandricardo was surprised to see no sword at his
side, nor mace at his saddle-bow. "And what weapon hast thou," said he,
"if thy lance fail thee?"

"Do not concern yourself about that," said Mandricardo; "I have made
many good knights give ground with no other weapon than you see. Know
that I have sworn an oath never to bear a sword until I win back that
famous Durindana that Orlando, the paladin, carries. That sword belongs
to the suit of armor which I wear; that only is wanting. Without doubt
it was stolen, but how it got into the hands of Orlando I know not. But
I will make him pay dearly for it when I find him I seek him the more
anxiously that I may avenge with his blood the death of King Agrican,
my father, whom he treacherously slew. I am sure he must have done it
by treachery, for it was not in his power to subdue in fair fight such
a warrior as my father."

"Thou liest," cried Orlando; "and all who say so lie. I am Orlando,
whom you seek; yes, I am he who slew your father honorably. Hold, here
is the sword: you shall have it if your courage avails to merit it.
Though it belongs to me by right, I will not use it in this dispute.
See, I hang it on this tree; you shall be master of it, if you bereave
me of life; not else."

At these words Orlando drew Durindana, and hung it on one of the
branches of a tree near by.

Both knights, boiling with equal ardor, rode off in a semicircle; then
rushed together with reins thrown loose, and struck one another with
their lances. Both kept their seats, immovable. The splinters of their
lances flew into the air, and no weapon remained for either but the
fragment which he held in his hand. Then those two knights, covered
with iron mail, were reduced to the necessity of fighting with staves,
in the manner of two rustics, who dispute the boundary of a meadow, or
the possession of a spring.

These clubs could not long keep whole in the hands of such sturdy
smiters, who were soon reduced to fight with naked fists. Such warfare
was more painful to him that gave than to him that received the blows.
They next clasped, and strained each his adversary, as Hercules did
Antaeus. Mandricardo, more enraged than Orlando, made violent efforts
to unseat the paladin, and dropped the rein of his horse. Orlando, more
calm, perceived it. With one hand he resisted Mandricardo, with the
other he twitched the horse's bridle over the ears of the animal. The
Saracen dragged Orlando with all his might, but Orlando's thighs held
the saddle like a vise. At last the efforts of the Saracen broke the
girths of Orlando's horse; the saddle slipped; the knight, firm in his
stirrups, slipped with it, and came to the ground hardly conscious of
his fall. The noise of his armor in falling startled Mandricardo's
horse, now without a bridle. He started off in full career, heeding
neither trees nor rocks nor broken ground. Urged by fright, he ran with
furious speed, carrying his master, who, almost distracted with rage,
shouted and beat the animal with his fists, and thereby impelled his
flight. After running thus three miles or more, a deep ditch opposed
their progress. The horse and rider fell headlong into it, and did not
find the bottom covered with feather-beds or roses. They got sadly
bruised; but were lucky enough to escape without any broken limbs.

Mandricardo, as soon as he gained his feet, seized the horse by his
mane with fury; but, having no bridle, could not hold him. He looked
round in hopes of finding something that would do for a rein. Just then
fortune, who seemed willing to help him at last, brought that way a
peasant with a bridle in his hand, who was in search of his farm horse
that had strayed away.

Orlando, having speedily repaired his horse's girths, remounted, and
waited a good hour for the Saracen to return. Not seeing him, he
concluded to go in search of him. He took an affectionate leave of
Zerbino and Isabella, who would willingly have followed him; but this
the brave paladin would by no means permit. He held it unknightly to go
in search of an enemy accompanied by a friend, who might act as a
defender. Therefore, desiring them to say to Mandricardo, if they
should meet him, that his purpose was to tarry in the neighborhood
three days, and then repair to the camp of Charlemagne, he took down
Durindana from the tree, and proceeded in the direction which the
Saracen's horse had taken. But the animal, having no guide but its
terror, had so doubled and confused its traces that Orlando, after two
days spent in the search, gave up the attempt.

It was about the middle of the third day when the paladin arrived on
the pleasant bank of a stream which wound through a meadow enamelled
with flowers. High trees, whose tops met and formed an arbor,
over-shadowed the fountain; and the breeze which blew through their
foliage tempered the heat. Hither the shepherds used to resort to
quench their thirst, and to enjoy the shelter from the midday sun. The
air, perfumed with the flowers, seemed to breathe fresh strength into
their veins. Orlando felt the influence, though covered with his armor.
He stopped in this delicious arbor, where everything seemed to invite
to repose. But he could not have chosen a more fatal asylum. He there
spent the most miserable moments of his life.

He looked around, and noted with pleasure all the charms of the spot.
He saw that some of the trees were carved with inscriptions--he drew
near, and read them, and what was his surprise to find that they
composed the name of Angelica! Farther on he found the name of Medoro
mixed with hers. The paladin thought he dreamed. He stood like one
amazed--like a bird that, rising to fly, finds its feet caught in a net.

Orlando followed the course of the stream, and came to one of its turns
where the rocks of the mountain bent in such a way as to form a sort of
grotto. The twisted stems of ivy and the wild vine draped the entrance
of this recess, scooped by the hand of nature.

The unhappy paladin, on entering the grotto, saw letters which appeared
to have been lately carved. They were verses which Medoro had written
in honor of his happy nuptials with the beautiful queen. Orlando tried
to persuade himself it must be some other Angelica whom those verses
celebrated, and as for Medoro, he had never heard his name. The sun was
now declining, and Orlando remounted his horse, and went on his way. He
soon saw the roof of a cottage whence the smoke ascended; he heard the
barking of dogs and the lowing of cattle, and arrived at a humble
dwelling which seemed to offer an asylum for the night. The inmates, as
soon as they saw him, hastened to tender him service. One took his
horse, another his shield and cuirass, another his golden spurs. This
cottage was the very same where Medoro had been carried, deeply
wounded,--where Angelica had tended him, and afterwards married him.
The shepherd who lived in it loved to tell everybody the story of this
marriage, and soon related it, with all its details, to the miserable
Orlando.

Having finished it, he went away, and returned with the precious
bracelet which Angelica, grateful for his services, had given him as a
memorial. It was the one which Orlando had himself given her.

This last touch was the finishing stroke to the excited paladin.
Frantic, exasperated, he exclaimed against the ungrateful and cruel
princess who had disdained him, the most renowned, the most indomitable
of all the paladins of France,--him, who had rescued her from the most
alarming perils,--him, who had fought the most terrible battles for her
sake,--she to prefer to him a young Saracen! The pride of the noble
Count was deeply wounded. Indignant, frantic, a victim to ungovernable
rage, he rushed into the forest, uttering the most frightful shrieks.

"No, no!" cried he, "I am not the man they take me for! Orlando is
dead! I am only the wandering ghost of that unhappy Count, who is now
suffering the torments of hell!"

Orlando wandered all night, as chance directed, through the wood, and
at sunrise his destiny led him to the fountain where Medoro had
engraved the fatal inscription. The frantic paladin saw it a second
time with fury, drew his sword, and hacked it from the rock.

Unlucky grotto! you shall no more attract by your shade and coolness,
you shall no more shelter with your arch either shepherd or flock. And
you, fresh and pure fountain, you may not escape the rage of the
furious Orlando! He cast into the fountain branches, trunks of trees
which he tore up, pieces of rocks which he broke off, plants uprooted,
with the earth adhering, and turf and brushes, so as to choke the
fountain, and destroy the purity of its waters. At length, exhausted by
his violent exertions, bathed in sweat, breathless, Orlando sunk
panting upon the earth, and lay there insensible three days and three
nights.

The fourth day he started up and seized his arms. His helmet, his
buckler, he cast far from him; his hauberk and his clothes he rent
asunder; the fragments were scattered through the wood. In fine, he
became a furious madman. His insanity was such that he cared not to
retain even his sword. But he had no need of Durindana, nor of other
arms, to do wonderful things. His prodigious strength sufficed. At the
first wrench of his mighty arm he tore up a pine-tree by the roots.
Oaks, beeches, maples, whatever he met in his path, yielded in like
manner. The ancient forest soon became as bare as the borders of a
morass, where the fowler has cleared away the bushes to spread his
nets. The shepherds, hearing the horrible crashing in the forest,
abandoned their flocks to run and see the cause of this unwonted
uproar. By their evil star, or for their sins, they were led thither.
When they saw the furious state the Count was in, and his incredible
force, they would fain have fled out of his reach, but in their fears
lost their presence of mind. The madman pursued them, seized one and
rent him limb from limb, as easily as one would pull ripe apples from a
tree. He took another by the feet, and used him as a club to knock down
a third. The shepherds fled; but it would have been hard for any to
escape, if he had not at that moment left them to throw himself with
the same fury upon their flocks. The peasants, abandoning their ploughs
and harrows, mounted on the roofs of buildings and pinnacles of the
rocks, afraid to trust themselves even to the oaks and pines. From such
heights they looked on, trembling at the raging fury of the unhappy
Orlando. His fists, his teeth, his nails, his feet, seize, break, and
tear cattle, sheep, and swine; the most swift in flight alone being
able to escape him.

When at last terror had scattered everything before him, he entered a
cottage which was abandoned by its inhabitants, and there found that
which served for food. His long fast had caused him to feel the most
ravenous hunger. Seizing whatever he found that was eatable, whether
roots, acorns, or bread, raw meat or cooked, he gorged it
indiscriminately.

Issuing thence again, the frantic Orlando gave chase to whatever living
thing he saw, whether men or animals. Sometimes he pursued the deer and
hind, sometimes he attacked bears and wolves, and with his naked hands
killed and tore them, and devoured their flesh.

Thus he wandered, from place to place, through France, imperilling his
life a thousand ways, yet always preserved by some mysterious
providence from a fatal result. But here we leave Orlando for a time,
that we may record what befell Zerbino and Isabella after their parting
with him.

The prince and his fair bride waited, by Orlando's request, near the
scene of the battle for three days, that, if Mandricardo should return,
they might inform him where Orlando would give him another meeting. At
the end of that time their anxiety to know the issue led them to follow
Orlando's traces, which led them at last to the wood where the trees
were inscribed with the names of Angelica and Medoro. They remarked how
all these inscriptions were defaced, and how the grotto was disordered,
and the fountain clogged with rubbish. But that which surprised them
and distressed them most of all was to find on the grass the cuirass of
Orlando, and not far from it his helmet, the same which the renowned
Almontes once wore.

Hearing a horse neigh in the forest, Zerbino turned his eyes in that
direction, and saw Brigliadoro, with the bridle yet hanging at the
saddle-bow. He looked round for Durindana, and found that famous sword,
without the scabbard, lying on the grass. He saw also the fragments of
Orlando's other arms and clothing scattered on all sides over the plain.

Zerbino and Isabella stood in astonishment and grief, not knowing what
to think, but little imagining the true cause. If they had found any
marks of blood on the arms or on the fragments of the clothing, they
would have supposed him slain, but there were none. While they were in
this painful uncertainty they saw a young peasant approach. He, not yet
recovered from the terror of the scene, which he had witnessed from the
top of a rock, told them the whole of the sad events.

Zerbino, with his eyes full of tears, carefully collected all the
scattered arms. Isabella also dismounted to aid him in the sad duty.
When they had collected all the pieces of that rich armor they hung
them like a trophy on a pine; and to prevent their being violated by
any passers-by, Zerbino inscribed on the bark this caution: "These are
the arms of the Paladin Orlando."

Having finished this pious work, he remounted his horse, and just then
a knight rode up, and requested Zerbino to tell him the meaning of the
trophy. The prince related the facts as they had happened; and
Mandricardo, for it was that Saracen knight, full of joy, rushed
forward, and seized the sword, saying, "No one can censure me for what
I do; this sword is mine; I can take my own wherever I find it. It is
plain that Orlando, not daring to defend it against me, has
counterfeited madness to excuse him in surrendering it."

Zerbino vehemently exclaimed, "Touch not that sword. Think not to
possess it without a contest. If it be true that the arms you wear are
those of Hector, you must have got them by theft, and not by prowess."

Immediately they attacked one another with the utmost fury. The air
resounded with thick-falling blows. Zerbino, skilful and alert, evaded
for a time with good success the strokes of Durindana; but at length a
terrible blow struck him on the neck. He fell from his horse, and the
Tartar king, possessed of the spoils of his victory, rode away.



ZERBINO AND ISABELLA

Zerbino's pain at seeing the Tartar prince go off with the sword
surpassed the anguish of his wound; but now the loss of blood so
reduced his strength that he could not move from where he fell.
Isabella, not knowing whither to resort for help, could only bemoan
him, and chide her cruel fate. Zerbino said, "If I could but leave
thee, my best beloved, in some secure abode, it would not distress me
to die; but to abandon thee so, without protection, is sad indeed." She
replied, "Think not to leave me, dearest; our souls shall not be
parted; this sword will give me the means to follow thee." Zerbino's
last words implored her to banish such a thought, but live, and be true
to his memory. Isabella promised, with many tears, to be faithful to
him so long as life should last.

When he ceased to breathe, Isabella's cries resounded through the
forest, and reached the ears of a reverend hermit, who hastened to the
spot. He soothed and calmed her, urging those consolations which the
word of God supplies; and at last brought her to wish for nothing else
but to devote herself for the rest of life wholly to religion.

As she could not bear the thoughts of leaving her dead lord abandoned,
the body was, by the good hermit's aid, placed upon the horse, and
taken to the nearest inhabited place, where a chest was made for it,
suitable to be carried with them on their way. The hermit's plan was to
escort his charge to a monastery, not many days' journey distant, where
Isabella resolved to spend the remainder of her days. Thus they
travelled day after day, choosing the most retired ways, for the
country was full of armed men. One day a cavalier met them, and barred
their way. It was no other than Rodomont, king of Algiers, who had just
left the camp of Agramant, full of indignation at the treatment he had
received from Doralice. At sight of the lovely lady and her reverend
attendant, with their horse laden with a burden draped with black, he
asked the meaning of their journey. Isabella told him her affliction,
and her resolution to renounce the world and devote herself to
religion, and to the memory of the friend she had lost. Rodomont
laughed scornfully at this, and told her that her project was absurd;
that charms like hers were meant to be enjoyed, not buried, and that he
himself would more than make amends for her dead lover. The monk, who
promptly interposed to rebuke this impious talk, was commanded to hold
his peace; and still persisting was seized by the knight and hurled
over the edge of the cliff, where he fell into the sea, and was drowned.

Rodomont, when he had got rid of the hermit, again applied to the sad
lady, heartless with affright, and, in the language used by lovers,
said, "she was his very heart, his life, his light." Having laid aside
all violence, he humbly sued that she would accompany him to his
retreat, near by. It was a ruined chapel from which the monks had been
driven by the disorders of the time, and which Rodomont had taken
possession of. Isabella, who had no choice but to obey, followed him,
meditating as she went what resource she could find to escape out of
his power, and keep her vow to her dead husband, to be faithful to his
memory as long as life should last. At length she said, "If, my lord,
you will let me go and fulfil my vow, and my intention, as I have
already declared it, I will bestow upon you what will be to you of more
value than a hundred women's hearts. I know an herb, and I have seen it
on our way, which, rightly prepared, affords a juice of such power,
that the flesh, if laved with it, becomes impenetrable to sword or
fire. This liquor I can make, and will, to-day, if you will accept my
offer; and when you have seen its virtue you will value it more than if
all Europe were made your own."

Rodomont, at hearing this, readily promised all that was asked, so
eager was he to learn a secret that would make him as Achilles was of
yore. Isabella, having collected such herbs as she thought proper, and
boiled them, with certain mysterious signs and words, at length
declared her labor done, and, as a test, offered to try its virtue on
herself. She bathed her neck and bosom with the liquor, and then called
on Rodomont to smite with all his force, and see whether his sword had
power to harm. The pagan, who during the preparations had taken
frequent draughts of wine, and scarce knew what he did, drew his sword
at the word, and struck across her neck with all his might, and the
fair head leapt sundered from the snowy neck and breast.

Rude and unfeeling as he was, the pagan knight lamented bitterly this
sad result. To honor her memory he resolved to do a work as
unparalleled as her devotion. From all parts round he caused laborers
to be brought, and had a tower built to enclose the chapel, within
which the remains of Zerbino and Isabella were entombed. Across the
stream which flowed near by he built a bridge, scarce two yards wide,
and added neither parapet nor rail. On the top of the tower a sentry
was placed, who, when any traveller approached the bridge, gave notice
to his master. Rodomont thereupon sallied out, and defied the
approaching knight to fight him upon the bridge, where any chance step
a little aside would plunge the rider headlong in the stream. This
bridge he vowed to keep until a thousand suits of armor should be won
from conquered knights, wherewith to build a trophy to his victim and
her lord.

Within ten days the bridge was built, and the tower was in progress. In
a short time many knights, either seeking the shortest route, or
tempted by a desire of adventure, had made the attempt to pass the
bridge. All, without exception, had lost either arms or life, or both;
some falling before Rodomont's lance, others precipitated into the
river. One day, as Rodomont stood urging his workmen, it chanced that
Orlando in his furious mood came thither, and approached the bridge.
Rodomont halloed to him, "Halt, churl; presume not to set foot upon
that bridge; it was not made for such as you!" Orlando took no notice,
but pressed on. Just then a gentle damsel rode up. It was Flordelis,
who was seeking her Florismart. She saw Orlando, and, in spite of his
strange appearance, recognized him. Rodomont, not used to have his
commands disobeyed, laid hands on the madman, and would have thrown him
into the river, but to his astonishment found himself in the gripe of
one not so easily disposed of. "How can a fool have such strength?" he
growled between his teeth. Flordelis stopped to see the issue, where
each of these two puissant warriors strove to throw the other from the
bridge. Orlando at last had strength enough to lift his foe with all
his armor, and fling him over the side, but had not wit to clear
himself from him, so both fell together. High flashed the wave as they
together smote its surface. Here Orlando had the advantage; he was
naked, and could swim like a fish. He soon reached the bank, and,
careless of praise or blame, stopped not to see what came of the
adventure. Rodomont, entangled with his armor, escaped with difficulty
to the bank. Meantime, Flordelis passed the bridge unchallenged.

After long wandering without success she returned to Paris, and there
found the object of her search; for Florismart, after the fall of
Albracca, had repaired thither. The joy of meeting was clouded to
Florismart by the news which Flordelis brought of Orlando's wretched
plight. The last she had seen of him was when he fell with Rodomont
into the stream. Florismart, who loved Orlando like a brother, resolved
to set out immediately, under the guidance of the lady, to find him,
and bring him where he might receive the treatment suited to his case.
A few days brought them to the place where they found the Tartar king
still guarding the bridge. The usual challenge and defiance was made,
and the knights rode to encounter one another on the bridge. At the
first encounter both horses were overthrown; and, having no space to
regain their footing, fell with their riders into the water. Rodomont,
who knew the soundings of the stream, soon recovered the land; but
Florismart was carried downward by the current, and landed at last on a
bank of mud where his horse could hardly find footing. Flordelis, who
watched the battle from the bridge, seeing her lover in this piteous
case, exclaimed aloud, "Ah! Rodomont, for love of her whom dead you
honor, have pity on me, who love this knight, and slay him not. Let it
suffice he yields his armor to the pile, and none more glorious will it
bear than his." Her prayer, so well directed, touched the pagan's
heart, though hard to move, and he lent his aid to help the knight to
land. He kept him a prisoner, however, and added his armor to the pile.
Flordelis, with a heavy heart, went her way.

We must now return to Rogero, who, when we parted with him, was engaged
in an adventure which arrested his progress to the monastery whither he
was bound with the intention of receiving baptism, and thus qualifying
himself to demand Bradamante as his bride. On his way he met with
Mandricardo, and the quarrel was revived respecting the right to wear
the badge of Hector. After a warm discussion both parties agreed to
submit the question to King Agramant, and for that purpose took their
way to the Saracen camp. Here they met Gradasso, who had his
controversy also with Mandricardo. This warrior claimed the sword of
Orlando, denying the right of Mandricardo to possess it in virtue of
his having found it abandoned by its owner. King Agramant strove in
vain to reconcile these quarrels, and was forced at last to consent
that the points in dispute should be settled by one combat, in which
Mandricardo should meet one of the other champions, to whom should be
committed the cause of both. Rogero was chosen by lot to maintain
Gradasso's cause and his own. Great preparations were made for this
signal contest. On the appointed day it was fought in the presence of
Agramant, and of the whole army. Rogero won it; and Mandricardo, the
conqueror of Hector's arms, the challenger of Orlando, and the slayer
of Zerbino, lost his life. Gradasso received Durindana as his prize,
which lost half its value in his eyes, since it was won by another's
prowess, not his own.

Rogero, though victorious, was severely wounded, and lay helpless many
weeks in the camp of Agramant, while Bradamante, ignorant of the cause
of his delay, expected him at Montalban. Thither he had promised to
repair in fifteen days, or twenty at furthest, hoping to have obtained
by that time an honorable discharge from his obligations to the Saracen
commander. The twenty days were passed, and a month more, and still
Rogero came not, nor did any tidings reach Bradamante accounting for
his absence. At the end of that time, a wandering knight brought news
of the famous combat, and of Rogero's wound. He added, what alarmed
Bradamante still more, that Marphisa, a female warrior, young and fair,
was in attendance on the wounded knight. He added that the whole army
expected that, as soon as Rogero's wounds were healed, the pair would
be united in marriage.

Bradamante, distressed by this news, though she believed it but in
part, resolved to go immediately and see for herself. She mounted
Rabican, the horse of Astolpho, which he had committed to her care, and
took with her the lance of gold, though unaware of its wonderful
powers. Thus accoutred, she left the castle, and took the road toward
Paris and the camp of the Saracens.

Marphisa, whose devotion to Rogero in his illness had so excited the
jealousy of Bradamante, was the twin sister of Rogero. She, with him,
had been taken in charge when an infant by Atlantes, the magician, but
while yet a child she had been stolen away by an Arab tribe. Adopted by
their chief, she had early learned horsemanship and skill in arms, and
at this time had come to the camp of Agramant with no other view than
to see and test for herself the prowess of the warriors of either camp,
whose fame rang through the world. Arriving at the very moment of the
late encounter, the name of Rogero, and some few facts of his story
which she learned, were enough to suggest the idea that it was her
brother whom she saw victorious in the single combat. Inquiry satisfied
the two of their near kindred, and from that moment Marphisa devoted
herself to the care of her new-found and much-loved brother.

In those moments of seclusion Rogero informed his sister of what he had
learned of their parentage from old Atlantes. Rogero, their father, a
Christian knight, had won the heart of Galaciella, daughter of the
Sultan of Africa, and sister of King Agramant, converted her to the
Christian faith, and secretly married her. The Sultan, enraged at his
daughter's marriage, drove her husband into exile, and caused her with
her infant children, Rogero and Marphisa, to be placed in a boat and
committed to the winds and waves, to perish; from which fate they were
saved by Atlantes. On hearing this, Marphisa exclaimed, "How can you,
brother, leave our parents unavenged so long, and even submit to serve
the son of the tyrant who so wronged them?" Rogero replied that it was
but lately he had learned the full truth; that when he learned it he
was already embarked with Agramant, from whom he had received
knighthood, and that he only waited for a suitable opportunity when he
might with honor desert his standard, and at the same time return to
the faith of his fathers. Marphisa hailed this resolution with joy, and
declared her intention to join with him in embracing the Christian
faith.

We left Bradamante when, mounted on Rabican and armed with Astolpho's
lance, she rode forth, determined to learn the cause of Rogero's long
absence. One day, as she rode, she met a damsel, of visage and of
manners fair, but overcome with grief. It was Flordelis, who was
seeking far and near a champion capable of liberating and avenging her
lord. Flordelis marked the approaching warrior, and, judging from
appearances, thought she had found the champion she sought. "Are you,
Sir Knight," she said, "so daring and so kind as to take up my cause
against a fierce and cruel warrior who has made prisoner of my lord,
and forced me thus to be a wanderer and a suppliant?" Then she related
the events which had happened at the bridge. Bradamante, to whom noble
enterprises were always welcome, readily embraced this, and the rather
as in her gloomy forebodings she felt as if Rogero was forever lost to
her.

Next day the two arrived at the bridge. The sentry descried them
approaching, and gave notice to his lord, who thereupon donned his
armor and went forth to meet them. Here, as usual, he called on the
advancing warrior to yield his horse and arms an oblation to the tomb.
Bradamante replied, asking by what right he called on the innocent to
do penance for his crime. "Your life and your armor," she added, "are
the fittest offering to her tomb, and I, a woman, the fittest champion
to take them." With that she couched her spear, spurred her horse, and
ran to the encounter. King Rodomont came on with speed. The trampling
sounded on the bridge like thunder. It took but a moment to decide the
contest. The golden lance did its office, and that fierce Moor, so
renowned in tourney, lay extended on the bridge. "Who is the loser
now?" said Bradamante; but Rodomont, amazed that a woman's hand should
have laid him low, could not or would not answer. Silent and sad, he
raised himself, unbound his helm and mail, and flung them against the
tomb; then, sullen and on foot, left the ground; but first gave orders
to one of his squires to release all his prisoners. They had been sent
off to Africa. Besides Florismart, there were Sansonnet and Oliver, who
had ridden that way in quest of Orlando, and had both in turn been
overthrown in the encounter.

Bradamante after her victory resumed her route, and in due time reached
the Christian camp, where she readily learned an explanation of the
mystery which had caused her so much anxiety. Rogero and his fair and
brave sister, Marphisa, were too illustrious by their station and
exploits not to be the frequent topic of discourse even among their
adversaries, and all that Bradamante was anxious to know reached her
ear, almost without inquiry.

We now return to Gradasso, who by Rogero's victory had been made
possessor of Durindana. There now only remained to him to seek the
horse of Rinaldo; and the challenge, given and accepted, was yet to be
fought with that warrior, for it had been interrupted by the arts of
Malagigi. Gradasso now sought another meeting with Rinaldo, and met
with no reluctance on his part. As the combat was for the possession of
Bayard, the knights dismounted and fought on foot. Long time the battle
lasted. Rinaldo, knowing well the deadly stroke of Durindana, used all
his art to parry or avoid its blow. Gradasso struck with might and
main, but wellnigh all his strokes were spent in air, or if they smote
they fell obliquely and did little harm.

Thus had they fought long, glancing at one another's eyes, and seeing
naught else, when their attention was arrested perforce by a strange
noise. They turned, and beheld the good Bayard attacked by a monstrous
bird. Perhaps it was a bird, for such it seemed; but when or where such
a bird was ever seen I have nowhere read, except in Turpin; and I am
inclined to believe that it was not a bird, but a fiend, evoked from
underground by Malagigi, and thither sent on purpose to interrupt the
fight. Whether a fiend or a fowl, the monster flew right at Bayard, and
clapped his wings in his face. Thereat the steed broke loose, and ran
madly across the plain, pursued by the bird, till Bayard plunged into
the wood, and was lost to sight.

Rinaldo and Gradasso, seeing Bayard's escape, agreed to suspend their
battle till they could recover the horse, the object of contention.
Gradasso mounted his steed, and followed the foot-marks of Bayard into
the forest. Rinaldo, never more vexed in spirit, remained at the spot,
Gradasso having promised to return thither with the horse, if he found
him. He did find him, after long search, for he had the good fortune to
hear him neigh. Thus he became possessed of both the objects for which
he had led an army from his own country, and invaded France. He did not
forget his promise to bring Bayard back to the place where he had left
Rinaldo, but only muttering, "Now I have got him, he little knows me
who expects me to give him up; if Rinaldo wants the horse let him seek
him in India, as I have sought him in France,"--he made the best of his
way to Arles, where his vessels lay; and in possession of the two
objects of his ambition, the horse and the sword, sailed away to his
own country.



ASTOLPHO IN ABYSSINIA

When we last parted with the adventurous paladin Astolpho, he was just
commencing that flight over the countries of the world from which he
promised himself so much gratification. Our readers are aware that the
eagle and the falcon have not so swift a flight as the Hippogriff on
which Astolpho rode. It was not long, therefore, before the paladin,
directing his course toward the southeast, arrived over that part of
Africa where the great river Nile has its source. Here he alighted, and
found himself in the neighborhood of the capital of Abyssinia, ruled by
Senapus, whose riches and power were immense. His palace was of
surpassing splendor; the bars of the gates, the hinges and locks, were
all of pure gold; in fact, this metal, in that country, is put to all
those uses for which we employ iron. It is so common that they prefer
for ornamental purposes rock crystal, of which all the columns were
made. Precious stones of different kinds, rubies, emeralds, sapphires,
and topazes were set in ornamental designs, and the walls and ceilings
were adorned with pearls.

It is in this country those famous balms grow of which there are some
few plants in that part of Judaea called Gilead. Musk, ambergris, and
numerous gums, so precious in Europe, are here in their native climate.
It is said the Sultan of Egypt pays a vast tribute to the monarch of
this country to hire him not to cut off the source of the Nile, which
he might easily do, and cause the river to flow in some other
direction, thus depriving Egypt of the source of its fertility.

At the time of Astolpho's arrival in his dominions, this monarch was in
great affliction. In spite of his riches and the precious productions
of his country, he was in danger of dying of hunger. He was a prey to a
flock of obscene birds called Harpies, which attacked him whenever he
sat at meat, and with their claws snatched, tore, and scattered
everything, overturning the vessels, devouring the food, and infecting
what they left with their filthy touch. It was said this punishment was
inflicted upon the king because when young, and filled with pride and
presumption, he had attempted to invade with an army the terrestrial
paradise, which is situated on the top of a mountain whence the Nile
draws its source. Nor was this his only punishment. He was struck blind.

Astolpho, on arriving in the dominions of this monarch, hastened to pay
him his respects. King Senapus received him graciously, and ordered a
splendid repast to be prepared in honor of his arrival. While the
guests were seated at table, Astolpho filling the place of dignity at
the king's right hand, the horrid scream of the Harpies was heard in
the air, and soon they approached, hovering over the tables, seizing
the food from the dishes, and overturning everything with the flapping
of their broad wings. In vain the guests struck at them with knives and
any weapons which they had, and Astolpho drew his sword and gave them
repeated blows, which seemed to have no more effect upon them than if
their bodies had been made of tow.

At last Astolpho thought of his horn. He first gave warning to the king
and his guests to stop their ears; then blew a blast. The Harpies,
terrified at the sound, flew away as fast as their wings could carry
them. The paladin mounted his Hippogriff, and pursued them, blowing his
horn as often as he came near them. They stretched their flight towards
the great mountain, at the foot of which there is a cavern, which is
thought to be the mouth of the infernal abodes. Hither those horrid
birds flew, as if to their home. Having seen them all disappear in the
recess, Astolpho cared not to pursue them farther, but alighting,
rolled huge stones into the mouth of the cave, and piled branches of
trees therein, so that he effectually barred their passage out, and we
have no evidence of their ever having been seen since in the outer air.

After this labor Astolpho refreshed himself by bathing in a fountain
whose pure waters bubbled from a cleft of the rock. Having rested
awhile, an earnest desire seized him of ascending the mountain which
towered above him. The Hippogriff bore him swiftly upwards, and landed
him on the top of the mountain, which he found to be an extensive plain.

A splendid palace rose in the middle of this plain, whose walls shone
with such brilliancy that mortal eyes could hardly bear the sight.
Astolpho guided the winged horse towards this edifice, and made him
poise himself in the air while he took a leisurely survey of this
favored spot and its environs. It seemed as if nature and art had
striven with one another to see which could do the most for its
embellishment.

Astolpho, on approaching the edifice, saw a venerable man advance to
meet him. This personage was clothed in a long vesture as white as
snow, while a mantle of purple covered his shoulders, and hung down to
the ground. A white beard descended to his middle, and his hair, of the
same color, overshadowed his shoulders. His eyes were so brilliant that
Astolpho felt persuaded that he was a blessed inhabitant of the
heavenly mansions.

The sage, smiling benignantly upon the paladin, who from respect had
dismounted from his horse, said to him: "Noble chevalier, know that it
is by the Divine will you have been brought to the terrestrial
paradise. Your mortal nature could not have borne to scale these
heights and reach these seats of bliss if it were not the will of
Heaven that you should be instructed in the means to succor Charles,
and to sustain the glory of our holy faith. I am prepared to impart the
needed counsels; but before I begin let me welcome you to our sojourn.
I doubt not your long fast and distant journey have given you a good
appetite."

The aspect of the venerable man filled the prince with admiration; but
his surprise ceased when he learned from him that he was that one of
the Apostles of our Lord to whom he said, "I will that thou tarry till
I come."

St. John, conducting Astolpho, rejoined his companions. These were the
patriarch Enoch and the prophet Elijah; neither of whom had yet seen
his dying day, but, taken from our lower world, were dwelling in a
region of peace and joy, in a climate of eternal spring, till the last
trumpet shall sound.

The three holy inhabitants of the terrestrial paradise received
Astolpho with the greatest kindness, carried him to a pleasant
apartment, and took great care of the Hippogriff, to whom they gave
such food as suited him, while to the prince they presented fruits so
delicious that he felt inclined to excuse our first parents for their
sin in eating them without permission.

Astolpho, having recruited his strength, not only by these excellent
fruits, but also by sweet sleep, roused himself at the first blush of
dawn, and as soon as he left his chamber met the beloved Apostle coming
to seek him. St. John took him by the hand, and told him many things
relating to the past and the future. Among others, he said, "Son, let
me tell you what is now going on in France. Orlando, the illustrious
prince who received at his birth the endowment of strength and courage
more than mortal, raised up as was Samson of old to be the champion of
the true faith, has been guilty of the basest ingratitude in leaving
the Christian camp when it most needed the support of his arm, to run
after a Saracen princess, whom he would fain marry, though she scorns
him. To punish him his reason has been taken away, so that he runs
naked through the land, over mountains and through valleys, without a
ray of intelligence. The duration of his punishment has been fixed at
three months, and that time having nearly expired, you have been
brought hither to learn from us the means by which the reason of
Orlando may be restored. True, you will be obliged to make a journey
with me, and we must even leave the earth, and ascend to the moon, for
it is in that planet we are to seek the remedy for the madness of the
paladin. I propose to make our journey this evening, as soon as the
moon appears over our head."

As soon as the sun sunk beneath the seas, and the moon presented its
luminous disk, the holy man had the chariot brought out in which he was
accustomed to make excursions among the stars, the same which was
employed long ago to convey Elijah up from earth. The saint made
Astolpho seat himself beside him, took the reins, and giving the word
to the coursers, they bore them upward with astonishing celerity.

At length they reached the great continent of the Moon. Its surface
appeared to be of polished steel, with here and there a spot which,
like rust, obscured its brightness. The paladin was astonished to see
that the earth, with all its seas and rivers, seemed but an
insignificant spot in the distance.

The prince discovered in this region so new to him rivers, lakes,
plains, hills, and valleys. Many beautiful cities and castles enriched
the landscape. He saw also vast forests, and heard in them the sound of
horns and the barking of dogs, which led him to conclude that the
nymphs were following the chase.

The knight, filled with wonder at all he saw, was conducted by the
saint to a valley, where he stood amazed at the riches strewed all
around him. Well he might be so, for that valley was the receptacle of
things lost on earth, either by men's fault, or by the effect of time
and chance. Let no one suppose we speak here of kingdoms or of
treasures; they are the toys of Fortune, which she dispenses in turning
her wheel; we speak of things which she can neither give nor take away.
Such are reputations, which appear at one time so brilliant, and a
short time after are heard of no more. Here, also, are countless vows
and prayers for unattainable objects, lovers' sighs and tears, time
spent in gaming, dressing, and doing nothing, the leisure of the dull
and the intentions of the lazy, baseless projects, intrigues, and
plots; these and such like things fill all the valley.

Astolpho had a great desire to understand all that he saw, and which
appeared to him so extraordinary. Among the rest, he observed a great
mountain of blown bladders, from which issued indistinct noises. The
saint told him these were the dynasties of Assyrian and Persian kings,
once the wonder of the earth, of which now scarce the name remains.

Astolpho could not help laughing when the saint said to him, "All these
hooks of silver and gold that you see are the gifts of courtiers to
princes, made in the hope of getting something better in return." He
also showed him garlands of flowers in which snares were concealed;
these were flatteries and adulations, meant to deceive. But nothing was
so comical as the sight of numerous grasshoppers which had burst their
lungs with chirping. These, he told him, were sonnets, odes, and
dedications, addressed by venal poets to great people.

The paladin beheld with wonder what seemed a lake of spilled milk. "It
is," said the saint, "the charity done by frightened misers on their
death-beds." It would take too long to tell all that the valley
contained: meanness, affectations, pretended virtues, and concealed
vices were there in abundance.

Among the rest Astolpho perceived many days of his own lost, and many
imprudent sallies which he had made, and would have been glad not to
have been reminded of. But he also saw among so many lost things a
great abundance of one thing which men are apt to think they all
possess, and do not think it necessary to pray for,--good sense. This
commodity appeared under the form of a liquor, most light and apt to
evaporate. It was therefore kept in vials, firmly sealed. One of these
was labelled, "The sense of the Paladin Orlando."

All the bottles were ticketed, and the sage placed one in Astolpho's
hand, which he found was his own. It was more than half full. He was
surprised to find there many other vials which contained almost the
whole of the wits of many persons who passed among men for wise. Ah,
how easy it is to lose one's reason! Some lose theirs by yielding to
the sway of the passions; some in braving tempests and shoals in search
of wealth; some by trusting too much to the promises of the great; some
by setting their hearts on trifles. As might have been expected, the
bottles which held the wits of astrologers, inventors, metaphysicians,
and above all, of poets, were in general the best filled of all.

Astolpho took his bottle, put it to his nose, and inhaled it all; and
Turpin assures us that he was for a long time afterwards as sage as one
could wish; but the Archbishop adds that there was reason to fear that
some of the precious fluid afterwards found its way back into the
bottle. The paladin took also the bottle which belonged to Orlando. It
was a large one, and quite full.

Before quitting the planetary region Astolpho was conducted to an
edifice on the borders of a river. He was shown an immense hall full of
bundles of silk, linen, cotton, and wool. A thousand different colors,
brilliant or dull, some quite black, were among these skeins. In one
part of the hall an old woman was busy winding off yarns from all these
different bundles. When she had finished a skein another ancient dame
took it and placed it with others; a third selected from the fleeces
spun, and mingled them in due proportions. The paladin inquired what
all this might be. "These old women," said the saint, "are the Fates,
who spin, measure, and terminate the lives of mortals. As long as the
thread stretches in one of those skeins, so long does the mortal enjoy
the light of day; but nature and death are on the alert to shut the
eyes of those whose thread is spun."

Each one of the skeins had a label of gold, silver, or iron, bearing
the name of the individual to whom it belonged. An old man, who, in
spite of the burden of years, seemed brisk and active, ran without
ceasing to fill his apron with these labels, and carried them away to
throw them into the river, whose name was Lethe. When he reached the
shore of the river the old man shook out his apron, and the labels sunk
to the bottom. A small number only floated for a time, hardly one in a
thousand. Numberless birds, hawks, crows, and vultures hovered over the
stream, with clamorous cries, and strove to snatch from the water some
of these names; but they were too heavy for them, and after a while the
birds were forced to let them drop into the river of oblivion. But two
beautiful swans, of snowy whiteness, gathered some few of the names,
and returned with them to the shore, where a lovely nymph received them
from their beaks, and carried them to a temple placed upon a hill, and
suspended them for all time upon a sacred column, on which stood the
statue of Immortality.

Astolpho was amazed at all this, and asked his guide to explain it. He
replied, "The old man is Time. All the names upon the tickets would be
immortal if the old man did not plunge them into the river of oblivion.
Those clamorous birds which make vain efforts to save certain of the
names are flatterers, pensioners, venal rhymesters, who do their best
to rescue from oblivion the unworthy names of their patrons; but all in
vain; they may keep them from their fate a little while, but ere long
the river of oblivion must swallow them all.

"The swans, that with harmonious strains carry certain names to the
temple of Eternal Memory, are the great poets, who save from oblivion
worse than death the names of those they judge worthy of immortality.
Swans of this kind are rare. Let monarchs know the true breed, and fail
not to nourish with care such as may chance to appear in their time."



THE WAR IN AFRICA

When Astolpho had descended to the earth with the precious phial, St.
John showed him a plant of marvellous virtues, with which he told him
he had only to touch the eyes of the king of Abyssinia to restore him
to sight. "That important service," said the saint, "added to your
having delivered him from the Harpies, will induce him to give you an
army wherewith to attack the Africans in their rear, and force them to
return from France to defend their own country." The saint also
instructed him how to lead his troops in safety across the great
deserts, where caravans are often overwhelmed with moving columns of
sand. Astolpho, fortified with ample instructions, remounted the
Hippogriff, thanked the saint, received his blessing, and took his
flight down to the level country.

Keeping the course of the river Nile, he soon arrived at the capital of
Abyssinia, and rejoined Senapus. The joy of the king was great when he
heard again the voice of the hero who had delivered him from the
Harpies. Astolpho touched his eyes with the plant which he had brought
from the terrestrial paradise, and restored their sight. The king's
gratitude was unbounded. He begged him to name a reward, promising to
grant it, whatever it might be. Astolpho asked an army to go to the
assistance of Charlemagne, and the king not only granted him a hundred
thousand men, but offered to lead them himself.

The night before the day appointed for the departure of the troops
Astolpho mounted his winged horse, and directed his flight towards a
mountain, whence the fierce South-wind issues, whose blast raises the
sands of the Nubian desert, and whirls them onward in overwhelming
clouds. The paladin, by the advice of St. John, had prepared himself
with a leather bag, which he placed adroitly, with its mouth open, over
the vent whence issues this terrible wind. At the first dawn of morning
the wind rushed from its cavern to resume its daily course, and was
caught in the bag, and securely tied up. Astolpho, delighted with his
prize, returned to his army, placed himself at their head, and
commenced his march. The Abyssinians traversed without danger or
difficulty those vast fields of sand which separate their country from
the kingdoms of Northern Africa, for the terrible South-wind, taken
completely captive, had not force enough left to blow out a candle.

Senapus was distressed that he could not furnish any cavalry, for his
country, rich in camels and elephants, was destitute of horses. This
difficulty the saint had foreseen, and had taught Astolpho the means of
remedying. He now put those means in operation. Having reached a place
whence he beheld a vast plain and the sea, he chose from his troops
those who appeared to be the best made and the most intelligent. These
he caused to be arranged in squadrons at the foot of a lofty mountain
which bordered the plain, and he himself mounted to the summit to carry
into effect his great design. Here he found vast quantities of
fragments of rock and pebbles. These he set rolling down the mountain's
side, and, wonderful to relate, as they rolled they grew in size, made
themselves bodies, legs, necks, and long faces. Next they began to
neigh, to curvet, to scamper on all sides over the plain. Some were
bay, some roan, some dapple, some chestnut. The troops at the foot of
the mountain exerted themselves to catch these new-created horses,
which they easily did, for the miracle had been so considerate as to
provide all the horses with bridles and saddles. Astolpho thus suddenly
found himself supplied with an excellent corps of cavalry, not fewer
(as Archbishop Turpin asserts) than eighty thousand strong. With these
troops Astolpho reduced all the country to subjection, and at last
arrived before the walls of Agramant's capital city, Biserta, to which
he laid siege.

We must now return to the camp of the Christians, which lay before
Arles, to which city the Saracens had retired after being defeated in a
night attack led on by Rinaldo. Agramant here received the tidings of
the invasion of his country by a fresh enemy, the Abyssinians, and
learned that Biserta was in danger of falling into their hands. He took
counsel of his officers, and decided to send an embassy to Charles,
proposing that the whole quarrel should be submitted to the combat of
two warriors, one from each side, according to the issue of which it
should be decided which party should pay tribute to the other, and the
war should cease. Charlemagne, who had not heard of the favorable turn
which affairs had taken in Africa, readily agreed to this proposal, and
Rinaldo was selected on the part of the Christians to sustain the
combat.

The Saracens selected Rogero for their champion. Rogero was still in
the Saracen camp, kept there by honor alone, for his mind had been
opened to the truth of the Christian faith by the arguments of
Bradamante, and he had resolved to leave the party of the infidels on
the first favorable opportunity, and to join the Christian side. But
his honor forbade him to do this while his former friends were in
distress; and thus he waited for what time might bring forth, when he
was startled by the announcement that he had been selected to uphold
the cause of the Saracens against the Christians, and that his foe was
to be Rinaldo, the brother of Bradamante.

While Rogero was overwhelmed with this intelligence Bradamante on her
side felt the deepest distress at hearing of the proposed combat. If
Rogero should fall she felt that no other man living was worthy of her
love; and if, on the other hand, Heaven should resolve to punish France
by the death of her chosen champion, Bradamante would have to deplore
her brother, so dear to her, and be no less completely severed from the
object of her affections.

While the fair lady gave herself up to these sad thoughts, the sage
enchantress, Melissa, suddenly appeared before her. "Fear not, my
daughter," said she, "I shall find a way to interrupt this combat which
so distresses you."

Meanwhile Rinaldo and Rogero prepared their weapons for the conflict.
Rinaldo had the choice, and decided that it should be on foot, and with
no weapons but the battle-axe and poniard. The place assigned was a
plain between the camp of Charlemagne and the walls of Arles.

Hardly had the dawn announced the day appointed for this memorable
combat, when heralds proceeded from both sides to mark the lists.
Erelong the African troops were seen to advance from the city, Agramant
at their head; his brilliant arms adorned in the Moorish fashion, his
horse a bay, with a white star on his forehead. Rogero marched at his
side, and some of the greatest warriors of the Saracen camp attended
him, bearing the various parts of his armor and weapons. Charlemagne,
on his part, proceeded from his intrenchments, ranged his troops in
semicircle, and stood surrounded by his peers and paladins. Some of
them bore portions of the armor of Rinaldo, the celebrated Ogier, the
Dane, bearing the helmet which Rinaldo took from Mambrino. Duke Namo of
Bavaria and Salomon of Bretagne bore two axes, of equal weight,
prepared for the occasion.

The terms of the combat were then sworn to with the utmost solemnity by
all parties. It was agreed that if from either part any attempt was
made to interrupt the battle both combatants should turn their arms
against the party which should be guilty of the interruption; and both
monarchs assented to the condition that in such case the champion of
the offending party should be discharged from his allegiance, and at
liberty to transfer his arms to the other side.

When all the preparations were concluded the monarchs and their
attendants retired each to his own side, and the champions were left
alone. The two warriors advanced with measured steps towards each
other, and met in the middle of the space. They attacked one another at
the same moment, and the air resounded with the blows they gave. Sparks
flew from their battle-axes, while the velocity with which they managed
their weapons astonished the beholders. Rogero, always remembering that
his antagonist was the brother of his betrothed, could not aim a deadly
wound; he strove only to ward off those levelled against himself.
Rinaldo, on the other hand, much as he esteemed Rogero, spared not his
blows, for he eagerly desired victory for his own sake, and for the
sake of his country and his faith.

The Saracens soon perceived that their champion fought feebly, and gave
not to Rinaldo such blows as he received from him. His disadvantage was
so marked that anxiety and shame were manifest on the countenance of
Agramant. Melissa, one of the most acute enchantresses that ever lived,
seized this moment to disguise herself under the form of Rodomont, that
rude and impetuous warrior, who had now for some time been absent from
the Saracen camp. Approaching Agramant, she said, "How could you, my
lord, have the imprudence of selecting a young man without experience
to oppose the most redoubtable warrior of France? Surely you must have
been regardless of the honor of your arms, and of the fate of your
empire! But it is not too late. Break without delay the agreement which
is sure to result in your ruin." So saying, she addressed the troops
who stood near, "Friends," said she, "follow me; under my guidance
every one of you will be a match for a score of those feeble
Christians." Agramant, delighted at seeing Rodomont once more at his
side, gave his consent, and the Saracens, at the instant, couched their
lances, set spurs to their steeds, and swept down upon the French.
Melissa, when she saw her work successful, disappeared.

Rinaldo and Rogero, seeing the truce broken, and the two armies engaged
in general conflict, stopped their battle; their martial fury ceased at
once, they joined hands, and resolved to act no more on either side
until it should be clearly ascertained which party had failed to
observe its oath. Both renewed their promise to abandon forever the
party which had been thus false and perjured.

Meanwhile, the Christians, after the first moment of surprise, met the
Saracens with courage redoubled by rage at the treachery of their foes.
Guido the Wild, brother and rival of Rinaldo, Griffon and Aquilant,
sons of Oliver, and numerous others whose names have already been
celebrated in our recitals, beat back the assailants, and at last,
after prodigious slaughter, forced them to take shelter within the
walls of Arles.

We will now return to Orlando, whom we last heard of as furiously mad,
and doing a thousand acts of violence in his senseless rage. One day he
came to the borders of a stream which intercepted his course. He swam
across it, for he could swim like an otter, and on the other side saw a
peasant watering his horse. He seized the animal, in spite of the
resistance of the peasant, and rode it with furious speed till he
arrived at the sea-coast, where Spain is divided from Africa by only a
narrow strait. At the moment of his arrival a vessel had just put off
to cross the strait. She was full of people who, with glass in hand,
seemed to be taking a merry farewell of the land, wafted by a favorable
breeze.

The frantic Orlando cried out to them to stop and take him in; but
they, having no desire to admit a madman to their company, paid him no
attention. The paladin thought this behavior very uncivil; and by force
of blows made his horse carry him into the water in pursuit of the
ship. The wretched animal soon had only his head above water; but as
Orlando urged him forward, nothing was left for the poor beast but
either to die or swim over to Africa.

Already Orlando had lost sight of the bark; distance and the swell of
the sea completely hid it from his sight. He continued to press his
horse forward, till at last it could struggle no more, and sunk beneath
him. Orlando, nowise concerned, stretched out his nervous arms, puffing
the salt water from before his mouth, and carried his head above the
waves. Fortunately they were not rough, scarce a breath of wind
agitated the surface; otherwise, the invincible Orlando would then have
met his death. But fortune, which it is said favors fools, delivered
him from this danger, and landed him safe on the shore of Ceuta. Here
he rambled along the shore till he came to where the black army of
Astolpho held its camp.

Now it happened, just before this time, that a vessel filled with
prisoners which Rodomont had taken at the bridge had arrived, and, not
knowing of the presence of the Abyssinian army, had sailed right into
port, where of course the prisoners and their captors changed places,
the former being set at liberty and received with all joy, the latter
sent to serve in the galleys. Astolpho thus found himself surrounded
with Christian knights, and he and his friends were exchanging
greetings and felicitations, when a noise was heard in the camp, and
seemed to increase every moment.

Astolpho and his friends seized their weapons, mounted their horses,
and rode to the quarter whence the noise proceeded. Imagine their
astonishment when they saw that the tumult was caused by a single man,
perfectly naked, and browned with dirt and exposure, but of a force and
fury so terrible that he overturned all that offered to lay hands on
him.

Astolpho, Dudon, Oliver, and Florimart gazed at him with amazement. It
was with difficulty they knew him. Astolpho, who had been warned of his
condition by his holy monitor, was the first to recognize him. As the
paladins closed round Orlando, the madman dealt one and another a blow
of his fist, which, if they had not been in armor, or he had had any
weapon, would probably have despatched them; as it was, Dudon and
Astolpho measured their length on the sand. But Florimart seized him
from behind, Sansonnet and another grasped his legs, and at last they
succeeded in securing him with ropes. They took him to the water-side
and washed him well, and then Astolpho, having first bandaged his mouth
so that he could not breathe except through his nose, brought the
precious phial, uncorked it, and placed it adroitly under his nostrils,
when the good Orlando took it all up in one breath. O marvellous
prodigy! The paladin recovered in an instant all his intelligence. He
felt like one who had awakened from a painful dream, in which he had
believed that monsters were about to tear him to pieces. He seemed
prostrated, silent, and abashed. Florismart, Oliver, and Astolpho stood
gazing upon him, while he turned his eyes around and on himself. He
seemed surprised to find himself naked, bound, and stretched on the
sea-shore. After a few moments he recognized his friends, and spoke to
them in a tone so tender that they hastened to unbind him, and to
supply him with garments. Then they exerted themselves to console him,
to diminish the weight with which his spirits were oppressed, and to
make him forget the wretched condition into which he had been sunk.

Orlando, in recovering his reason, found himself also delivered from
his insane attachment to the queen of Cathay. His heart felt now no
further influenced by the recollection of her than to be moved with an
ardent desire to retrieve his fame by some distinguished exploit.
Astolpho would gladly have yielded to him the chief command of the
army, but Orlando would not take from the friend to whom he owed so
much the glory of the campaign; but in everything the two paladins
acted in concert, and united their counsels. They proposed to make a
general assault on the city of Biserta, and were only waiting a
favorable moment, when their plan was interrupted by new events.

Agramant, after the bloody battle which followed the infraction of the
truce, found himself so weak that he saw it was in vain to attempt to
remain in France. So, in concert with Sobrino, the bravest and most
trusted of his chiefs, he embarked to return to his own country, having
previously sent off his few remaining troops in the same direction. The
vessel which carried Agramant and Sobrino approached the shore where
the army of Astolpho lay encamped before Biserta, and having discovered
this fact before it was too late, the king commanded the pilot to steer
eastward, with a view to seek protection of the King of Egypt. But the
weather becoming rough, he consented to the advice of his companions,
and sought harbor in an island which lies between Sicily and Africa.
There he found Gradasso, the warlike king of Sericane, who had come to
France to possess himself of the horse Bayard and the sword Durindana;
and having procured both these prizes was returning to his own country.

The two kings, who had been companions in arms under the walls of
Paris, embraced one another affectionately. Gradasso learned with
regret the reverses of Agramant, and offered him his troops and his
person. He strongly deprecated resorting to Egypt for aid. "Remember
the great Pompey," said he, "and shun that fatal shore. My plan," he
continued, "is this: I mean to challenge Orlando to single combat.
Possessed of such a sword and steed as mine, if he were made of steel
or bronze, he could not escape me. He being removed, there will be no
difficulty in driving back the Abyssinians. We will rouse against them
the Moslem nations from the other side of the Nile, the Arabians,
Persians, and Chaldeans, who will soon make Senapus recall his army to
defend his own territories."

Agramant approved this advice except in one particular. "It is for me,"
said he, "to combat Orlando; I cannot with honor devolve that duty on
another."

"Let us adopt a third course," said the aged warrior Sobrino. "I would
not willingly remain a simple spectator of such a contest. Let us send
three squires to the shore of Africa to challenge Orlando and any two
of his companions in arms to meet us three in this island of Lampedusa."

This counsel was adopted; the three squires sped on their way; and now
presented themselves, and rehearsed their message to the Christian
knights.

Orlando was delighted, and rewarded the squires with rich gifts. He had
already resolved to seek Gradasso and compel him to restore Durindana,
which he had learned was in his possession. For his two companions the
Count chose his faithful friend Florismart and his cousin Oliver.

The three warriors embarked, and sailing with a favorable wind, the
second morning showed them, on their right, the island where this
important battle was to be fought. Orlando and his two companions,
having landed, pitched their tent. Agramant had placed his opposite.

Next morning, as soon as Aurora brightened the edges of the horizon,
the warriors of both parties armed themselves and mounted their horses.
They took their positions, face to face, lowered their lances, placed
them in rest, clapped spurs to their horses, and flew to the charge.
Orlando met the charge of Gradasso. The paladin was unmoved, but his
horse could not sustain the terrible shock of Bayard. He recoiled,
staggered, and fell some paces behind. Orlando tried to raise him, but,
finding his efforts unavailing, seized his shield, and drew his famous
Balisardo. Meanwhile Agramant and the brave Oliver gained no advantage,
one or the other; but Florismart unhorsed the King Sobrino. Having
brought his foe to the ground, he would not pursue his victory, but
hastened to attack Gradasso, who had overthrown Orlando. Seeing him
thus engaged, Orlando would not interfere, but ran with sword upraised
upon Sobrino, and with one blow deprived him of sense and motion.
Believing him dead, he next turned to aid his beloved Florismart. That
brave paladin, neither in horse nor arms equal to his antagonist, could
but parry and evade the blows of the terrible Durindana. Orlando, eager
to succor him, was delayed for a moment in securing and mounting the
horse of the King Sobrino. It was but an instant, and with sword
upraised, he rushed upon Gradasso who, noways disconcerted at the onset
of this second foe, shouted his defiance, and thrust at him with his
sword, but, having miscalculated the distance, scarcely reached him,
and failed to pierce his mail. Orlando, in return, dealt him a blow
with Balisardo, which wounded as it fell face, breast, and thigh, and,
if he had been a little nearer, would have cleft him in twain. Sobrino,
by this time recovered from his swoon, though severely wounded, raised
himself on his legs, and looked to see how he might aid his friends.
Observing Agramant hard pressed by Oliver, he thrust his sword into the
bowels of the latter's horse, which fell, and bore down his master,
entangling his leg as he fell, so that Oliver could not extricate
himself. Florismart saw the danger of his friend, and ran upon Sobrino
with his horse, overthrew him, and then turned to defend himself from
Agramant. They were not unequally matched, for though Agramant, mounted
on Brigliadoro, had an advantage over Florismart, whose horse was but
indifferent, yet Agramant had received a serious wound in his encounter
with Oliver.

Nothing could exceed the fury of the encounter between Orlando and
Gradasso. Durindana, in the hands of Gradasso, clove asunder whatever
it struck; but such was the skill of Orlando, who perfectly knew the
danger to which he was exposed from a stroke of that weapon, it had not
yet struck him in such a way as to inflict a wound. Meanwhile, Gradasso
was bleeding from many wounds, and his rage and incaution increased
every moment. In his desperation he lifted Durindana with both hands,
and struck so terrible a blow full on the helmet of Orlando, that for a
moment it stunned the paladin. He dropped the reins, and his frightened
horse scoured with him over the plain. Gradasso turned to pursue him,
but at that moment saw Florismart in the very act of striking a fatal
blow at Agramant, whom he had unhorsed. While Florismart was wholly
intent upon completing his victory, Gradasso plunged his sword into his
side. Florismart fell from his horse, and bathed the plain with his
blood.

Orlando recovered himself just in time to see the deed. Whether rage or
grief predominated in his breast, I cannot tell; but, seizing Balisardo
with fury, his first blow fell upon Agramant, who was nearest to him,
and smote his head from his shoulders. At this sight Gradasso for the
first time felt his courage sink, and a dark presentiment of death came
over him. He hardly stood on his defence when Orlando cast himself upon
him, and gave him a fatal thrust. The sword penetrated his ribs, and
came out a palm's breadth on the other side of his body.

Thus fell beneath the sword of the most illustrious paladin of France
the bravest warrior of the Saracen host. Orlando then, as if despising
his victory, leaped lightly to the ground, and ran to his dear friend
Florismart, embraced him, and bathed him with his tears. Florismart
still breathed. He could even command his voice to utter a few parting
words: "Dear friend, do not forget me,--give me your prayers,--and oh!
be a brother to Flordelis." He died in uttering her name.

After a few moments given to grief Orlando turned to look for his other
companion and his late foes. Oliver lay oppressed with the weight of
his horse, from which he had in vain struggled to liberate himself.
Orlando extricated him with difficulty; he then raised Sobrino from the
earth, and committed him to his squire, treating him as gently as if he
had been his own brother. For this terrible warrior was the most
generous of men to a fallen foe. He took Bayard and Brigliadoro, with
the arms of the conquered knights; their bodies and their other spoils
he remitted to their attendants.

But who can tell the grief of Flordelis when she saw the warriors
return, and found not Florismart as usual after absence hasten to her
side. She knew by the aspect of the others that her lord was slain. At
the thought, and before the question could pass her lips, she fell
senseless upon the ground. When life returned, and she learned the
truth of her worst fears, she bitterly upbraided herself that she had
let him depart without her. "I might have saved him by a single cry
when his enemy dealt him that treacherous blow, or I might have thrown
myself between and given my worthless life for his. Or if no more, I
might have heard his last words, I might have given him a last kiss."
So she lamented, and could not be comforted.



ROGERO AND BRADAMANTE

After the interruption of the combat with Rinaldo, as we have related,
Rogero was perplexed with doubts what course to take. The terms of the
treaty required him to abandon Agramant, who had broken it, and to
transfer his allegiance to Charlemagne; and his love for Bradamante
called him in the same direction; but unwillingness to desert his
prince and leader in the hour of distress forbade this course.
Embarking, therefore, for Africa, he took his way to rejoin the Saracen
army; but was arrested midway by a storm which drove the vessel on a
rock. The crew took to their boat, but that was quickly swamped in the
waves, and Rogero with the rest were compelled to swim for their lives.
Then while buffeting the waves Rogero bethought him of his sin in so
long delaying his Christian profession, and vowed in his heart that, if
he should live to reach the land, he would no longer delay to be
baptized. His vows were heard and answered; he succeeded in reaching
the shore, and was aided and relieved on landing by a pious hermit,
whose cell overlooked the sea. From him he received baptism, having
first passed some days with him, partaking his humble fare, and
receiving instruction in the doctrines of the Christian faith.

While these things were going on, Rinaldo, who had set out on his way
to seek Gradasso and recover Bayard from him, hearing on his way of the
great things which were doing in Africa, repaired thither to bear his
part in them. He arrived too late to do more than join his friends in
lamenting the loss of Florismart, and to rejoice with them in their
victory over the Pagan knights. On the death of their king the Africans
gave up the contest, Biserta submitted, and the Christian knights had
only to dismiss their forces, and return home. Astolpho took leave of
his Abyssinian army, and sent them back laden with spoil to their own
country, not forgetting to intrust to them the bag which held the
winds, by means of which they were enabled to cross the sandy desert
again without danger, and did not untie it till they reached their own
country.

Orlando now, with Oliver, who much needed the surgeon's care, and
Sobrino, to whom equal attention was shown, sailed in a swift vessel to
Sicily, bearing with him the body of Florismart, to be laid in
Christian earth. Rinaldo accompanied them, as did Sansonnet and the
other Christian leaders. Arrived at Sicily, the funeral was solemnized
with all the rites of religion, and with the profound grief of those
who had known Florismart, or had heard of his fame. Then they resumed
their course, steering for Marseilles. But Oliver's wound grew worse
instead of better, and his sufferings so distressed his friends that
they conferred together, not knowing what to do. Then said the pilot,
"We are not far from an isle where a holy hermit dwells alone in the
midst of the sea. It is said none seek his counsel or his aid in vain.
He hath wrought marvellous cures, and if you resort to that holy man
without doubt he can heal the knight." Orlando bade him steer thither,
and soon the bark was laid safely beside the lonely rock; the wounded
man was lowered into their boat, and carried by the crew to the
hermit's cell. It was the same hermit with whom Rogero had taken refuge
after his shipwreck, by whom he had been baptized, and with whom he was
now staying, absorbed in sacred studies and meditations.

The holy man received Orlando and the rest with kindness, and inquired
their errand; and being told that they had come for help for one who,
warring for the Christian faith, was brought to perilous pass by a sad
wound, he straightway undertook the cure. His applications were simple,
but they were seconded by his prayers. The paladin was soon relieved
from pain, and in a few days his foot was perfectly restored to
soundness. Sobrino, as soon as he perceived the holy monk perform that
wonder, cast aside his false prophet, and with contrite heart owned the
true God, and demanded baptism at his hands. The hermit granted his
request, and also by his prayers restored him to health, while all the
Christian knights rejoiced in his conversion almost as much as at the
restoration of Oliver. More than all Rogero felt joy and gratitude, and
daily grew in grace and faith.

Rogero was known by fame to all the Christian knights, but not even
Rinaldo knew him by sight, though he had proved his prowess in combat.
Sobrino made him known to them, and great was the joy of all when they
found one whose valor and courtesy were renowned through the world no
longer an enemy and unbeliever, but a convert and champion of the true
faith. All press about the knight; one grasps his hand, another locks
him fast in his embrace; but more than all the rest, Rinaldo cherished
him, for he more than any knew his worth.

It was not long before Rogero confided to his friend the hopes he
entertained of a union with his sister, and Rinaldo frankly gave his
sanction to the proposal. But causes unknown to the paladin were at
that very time interposing obstacles to its success.

The fame of the beauty and worth of Bradamante had reached the ears of
the Grecian Emperor, Constantine, and he had sent to Charlemagne to
demand the hand of his niece for Leo, his son, and the heir to his
dominions. Duke Aymon, her father, had only reserved his consent until
he should first have spoken with his son Rinaldo, now absent.

The warriors now prepared to resume their voyage. Rogero took a tender
farewell of the good hermit who had taught him the true faith. Orlando
restored to him the horse and arms which were rightly his, not even
asserting his claim to Balisarda, that sword which he himself had won
from the enchantress.

The hermit gave his blessing to the band, and they reembarked. The
passage was speedy, and very soon they arrived in the harbor of
Marseilles.

Astolpho, when he had dismissed his troops, mounted the Hippogriff, and
at one flight shot over to Sardinia, thence to Corsica, thence, turning
slightly to the left, hovered over Provence, and alighted in the
neighborhood of Marseilles. There he did what he had been commanded to
do by the holy saint; he unbridled the Hippogriff, and turned him loose
to seek his own retreats, never more to be galled with saddle or bit.
The horn had lost its marvellous power ever since the visit to the moon.

Astolpho reached Marseilles the very day when Orlando, Rinaldo, Oliver,
Sobrino, and Rogero arrived there. Charles had already heard the news
of the defeat of the Saracen kings, and all the accompanying events. On
learning the approach of the gallant knights, he sent forward some of
his most illustrious nobles to receive them, and himself, with the rest
of his court, kings, dukes, and peers, the queen, and a fair and
gorgeous band of ladies, set forward from Arles to meet them.

No sooner were the mutual greetings interchanged, than Orlando and his
friends led forward Rogero, and presented him to the Emperor. They
vouch him son of Rogero, Duke of Risa, one of the most renowned of
Christian warriors, by adverse fortune stolen in his infancy, and
brought up by Saracens in the false faith, now by a kind Providence
converted, and restored to fill the place his father once held among
the foremost champions of the throne and Church.

Rogero had alighted from his horse, and stood respectfully before the
Emperor. Charlemagne bade him remount and ride beside him; and omitted
nothing which might do him honor in sight of his martial train. With
pomp triumphal and with festive cheer the troop returned to the city;
the streets were decorated with garlands, the houses hung with rich
tapestry, and flowers fell like rain upon the conquering host from the
hands of fair dames and damsels, from every balcony and window. So
welcomed, the mighty Emperor passed on till he reached the royal
palace, where many days he feasted, high in hall, with his lords, amid
tourney, revel, dance, and song.

When Rinaldo told his father, Duke Aymon, how he had promised his
sister to Rogero, his father heard him with indignation, having set his
heart on seeing her united to the Grecian Emperor's son. The Lady
Beatrice, her mother, also appealed to Bradamante herself to reject a
knight who had neither title nor lands, and give the preference to one
who would make her Empress of the wide Levant. But Bradamante, though
respect forbade her to refuse her mother's entreaty, would not promise
to do what her heart repelled, and answered only with a sigh, until she
was alone, and then gave a loose to tears.

Meanwhile Rogero, indignant that a stranger should presume to rob him
of his bride, determined to seek the Prince of Greece, and defy him to
mortal combat. With this design he donned his armor, but exchanged his
crest and emblazonment, and bore instead a white unicorn upon a crimson
field. He chose a trusty squire, and, commanding him not to address him
as Rogero, rode on his quest. Having crossed the Rhine and the Austrian
countries into Hungary, he followed the course of the Danube till he
reached Belgrade. There he saw the imperial ensigns spread, and white
pavilions, thronged with troops, before the town. For the Emperor
Constantine was laying siege to the city to recover it from the
Bulgarians, who had taken it from him not long before.

A river flowed between the camp of the Emperor and the Bulgarians, and
at the moment when Rogero approached, a skirmish had begun between the
parties from either camp, who had approached the stream for the purpose
of watering. The Greeks in that affray were four to one, and drove back
the Bulgarians in precipitate rout. Rogero, seeing this, and animated
only by his hatred of the Grecian prince, dashed into the middle of the
flying mass, calling aloud on the fugitives to turn. He encountered
first a leader of the Grecian host in splendid armor, a nephew of the
Emperor, as dear to him as a son. Rogero's lance pierced shield and
armor, and stretched the warrior breathless on the plain. Another and
another fell before him, and astonishment and terror arrested the
advance of the Greeks, while the Bulgarians, catching courage from the
cavalier, rally, change front, and chase the Grecian troops, who fly in
their turn. Leo, the prince, was at a distance when this sudden
skirmish rose, but not so far but that he could see distinctly, from an
elevated position which he held, how the changed battle was all the
work of one man, and could not choose but admire the bravery and
prowess with which it was done. He knew by the blazonry displayed that
the champion was not of the Bulgarian army, though he furnished aid to
them. Although he suffered by his valor, the prince could not wish him
ill, for his admiration surpassed his resentment. By this time the
Greeks had regained the river, and crossing it by fording or swimming,
some made their escape, leaving many more prisoners in the hands of the
Bulgarians. Rogero, learning from some of the captives that Leo was at
a point some distance down the river, rode thither with a view to meet
him, but arrived not before the Greek prince had retired beyond the
stream, and broken up the bridge. Day was spent, and Rogero, wearied,
looked round for a shelter for the night. He found it in a cottage,
where he soon yielded himself to repose. It so happened, a knight who
had narrowly escaped Rogero's sword in the late battle also found
shelter in the same cottage, and, recognizing the armor of the unknown
knight, easily found means of securing him as he slept, and next
morning carried him in chains and delivered him to the Emperor. By him
he was in turn delivered to his sister Theodora, mother of the young
knight, the first victim of Rogero's spear. By her he was cast into a
dungeon, till her ingenuity could devise a death sufficiently painful
to satiate her revenge.

Bradamante, meanwhile, to escape her father's and mother's importunity,
had begged a boon of Charlemagne, which the monarch pledged his royal
word to grant; it was that she should not be compelled to marry any one
unless he should first vanquish her in single combat. The Emperor
therefore proclaimed a tournament in these words: "He that would wed
Duke Aymon's daughter must contend with the sword against that dame,
from the sun's rise to his setting; and if, in that time, he is not
overcome the lady shall be his."

Duke Aymon and the Lady Beatrice, though much incensed at the course
things had taken, brought their daughter to court, to await the day
appointed for the tournament. Bradamante, not finding there him whom
her heart required, distressed herself with doubts what could be the
cause of his absence. Of all fancies, the most painful one was that he
had gone away to learn to forget her, knowing her father's and her
mother's opposition to their union, and despairing to contend against
them. But oh, how much worse would be the maiden's woe, if it were
known to her what her betrothed was then enduring!

He was plunged in a dungeon where no ray of daylight ever penetrated,
loaded with chains, and scantily supplied with the coarsest food. No
wonder despair took possession of his heart, and he longed for death as
a relief, when one night (or one day, for both were equally dark to
him) he was roused with the glare of a torch and saw two men enter his
cell. It was the Prince Leo, with an attendant, who had come as soon as
he had learned the wretched fate of the brave knight whose valor he had
seen and admired on the field of battle. "Cavalier," said he, "I am one
whom thy valor hath so bound to thee, that I willingly peril my own
safety to lend thee aid." "Infinite thanks I owe you," replied Rogero,
"and the life you give me I promise faithfully to render back upon your
call, and promptly to stake it at all times for your service." The
prince then told Rogero his name and rank, at hearing which a tide of
contending emotions almost overwhelmed Rogero. He was set at liberty,
and had his horse and arms restored to him.

Meanwhile, tidings arrived of King Charles' decree that whoever aspired
to the hand of Bradamante must first encounter her with sword and
lance. This news made the Grecian prince turn pale, for he knew he was
no match for her in fight. Communing with himself, he sees how he may
make his wit supply the place of valor, and employ the French knight,
whose name was still unknown to him, to fight the battle for him.
Rogero heard the proposal with extreme distress; yet it seemed worse
than death to deny the first request of one to whom he owed his life.
Hastily he gave his assent "to do in all things that which Leo should
command." Afterward, bitter repentance came over him; yet, rather than
confess his change of mind, death itself would be welcome. Death seems
his only remedy; but how to die? Sometimes he thinks to make none but a
feigned resistance, and allow her sword a ready access, for never can
death come more happily than if her hand guide the weapon. Yet this
will not avail, for, unless he wins the maid for the Greek prince, his
debt remains unpaid. He had promised to maintain a real, not a feigned
encounter. He will then keep his word, and banish every thought from
his bosom except that which moved him to maintain his truth.

The young prince, richly attended, set out, and with him Rogero. They
arrived at Paris, but Leo preferred not to enter the city, and pitched
his tents without the walls, making known his arrival to Charlemagne by
an embassy. The monarch was pleased, and testified his courtesy by
visits and gifts. The prince set forth the purpose of his coming, and
prayed the Emperor to dispatch his suit--"to send forth the damsel who
refused ever to take in wedlock any lord inferior to herself in fight;
for she should be his bride, or he would perish beneath her sword."

Rogero passed the night before the day assigned for the battle like
that which the felon spends, condemned to pay the forfeit of his life
on the ensuing day. He chose to fight with sword only, and on foot, for
he would not let her see Frontino, knowing that she would recognize the
steed. Nor would he use Balisarda, for against that enchanted blade all
armor would be of no avail, and the sword that he did take he hammered
well upon the edge to abate its sharpness. He wore the surcoat of
Prince Leo, and his shield, emblazoned with a golden, double-headed
eagle. The prince took care to let himself be seen by none.

Bradamante, meanwhile, prepared herself for the combat far differently.
Instead of blunting the edge of her falchion she whets the steel, and
would fain infuse into it her own acerbity. As the moment approached
she seemed to have fire within her veins, and waited impatiently for
the trumpet's sound. At the signal she drew her sword, and fell with
fury upon her Rogero. But as a well-built wall or aged rock stands
unmoved the fury of the storm, so Rogero, clad in those arms which
Trojan Hector once wore, withstood the strokes which stormed about his
head and breast and flank. Sparks flew from his shield, his helm, his
cuirass; from direct and back strokes, aimed now high, now low, falling
thick and fast, like hailstones on a cottage roof; but Rogero, with
skilful ward, turns them aside, or receives them where his armor is a
sure protection, careful only to protect himself, and with no thought
of striking in return. Thus the hours passed away, and, as the sun
approached the west, the damsel began to despair. But so much the more
her anger increases, and she redoubles her efforts, like the craftsman
who sees his work unfinished while the day is wellnigh spent. O
miserable damsel! didst thou know whom thou wouldst kill,--if, in that
cavalier matched against thee thou didst but know Rogero, on whom thy
very life-threads hang, rather than kill him thou wouldst kill thyself,
for he is dearer to thee than life.

King Charles and the peers, who thought the cavalier to be the Grecian
prince, viewing such force and skill exhibited, and how without
assaulting her the knight defended himself, were filled with
admiration, and declared the champions well matched, and worthy of each
other.

When the sun was set Charlemagne gave the signal for terminating the
contest, and Bradamante was awarded to Prince Leo as a bride. Rogero,
in deep distress, returned to his tent. There Leo unlaced his helmet,
and kissed him on both cheeks. "Henceforth," said he, "do with me as
you please, for you cannot exhaust my gratitude." Rogero replied
little, laid aside the ensigns he had worn, and resumed the unicorn,
then hasted to withdraw himself from all eyes. When it was midnight he
rose, saddled Frontino, and sallied from his tent, taking that
direction which pleased his steed. All night he rode absorbed in bitter
woe, and called on Death as alone capable of relieving his sufferings.
At last he entered a forest, and penetrated into its deepest recesses.
There he unharnessed Frontino, and suffered him to wander where he
would. Then he threw himself down on the ground, and poured forth such
bitter wailings that the birds and beasts, for none else heard him,
were moved to pity with his cries.

Not less was the distress of the lady Bradamante, who, rather than wed
any one but Rogero, resolved to break her word, and defy kindred,
court, and Charlemagne himself; and, if nothing else would do, to die.
But relief came from an unexpected quarter. Marphisa, sister of Rogero,
was a heroine of warlike prowess equal to Bradamante. She had been the
confidante of their loves, and felt hardly less distress than
themselves at seeing the perils which threatened their union. "They are
already united by mutual vows," she said, "and in the sight of Heaven
what more is necessary?" Full of this thought she presented herself
before Charlemagne, and declared that she herself was witness that the
maiden had spoken to Rogero those words which they who marry swear; and
that the compact was so sealed between the pair that they were no
longer free, nor could forsake the one the other to take another
spouse. This her assertion she offered to prove, in single combat,
against Prince Leo, or any one else.

Charlemagne, sadly perplexed at this, commanded Bradamante to be
called, and told her what the bold Marphisa had declared. Bradamante
neither denied nor confirmed the statement, but hung her head, and kept
silence. Duke Aymon was enraged, and would fain have set aside the
pretended contract on the ground that, if made at all, it must have
been made before Rogero was baptized, and therefore void. But not so
thought Rinaldo, nor the good Orlando, and Charlemagne knew not which
way to decide, when Marphisa spoke thus:

"Since no one else can marry the maiden while my brother lives, let the
prince meet Rogero in mortal combat, and let him who survives take her
for his bride."

This saying pleased the Emperor, and was accepted by the prince, for he
thought that, by the aid of his unknown champion, he should surely
triumph in the fight. Proclamation was therefore made for Rogero to
appear and defend his suit; and Leo, on his part, caused search to be
made on all sides for the knight of the Unicorn.

Meanwhile Rogero, overwhelmed with despair, lay stretched on the ground
in the forest night and day without food, courting death. Here he was
discovered by one of Leo's people, who, finding him resist all attempts
to remove him, hastened to his master, who was not far off, and brought
him to the spot. As he approached he heard words which convinced him
that love was the cause of the knight's despair; but no clew was given
to guide him to the object of that love. Stooping down, the prince
embraced the weeping warrior, and, in the tenderest accents, said:
"Spare not, I entreat you, to disclose the cause of your distress, for
few such desperate evils betide mankind as are wholly past cure. It
grieves me much that you would hide your grief from me, for I am bound
to you by ties that nothing can undo. Tell me, then, your grief, and
leave me to try if wealth, art, cunning, force, or persuasion cannot
relieve you. If not, it will be time enough after all has been tried in
vain to die."

He spoke in such moving accents that Rogero could not choose but yield.
It was some time before he could command utterance; at last he said,
"My lord, when you shall know me for what I am, I doubt not you, like
myself, will be content that I should die. Know, then, I am that Rogero
whom you have so much cause to hate, and who so hated you that, intent
on putting you to death, he went to seek you at your father's court.
This I did because I could not submit to see my promised bride borne
off by you. But, as man proposes and God disposes, your great courtesy,
well tried in time of sore need, so moved my fixed resolve, that I not
only laid aside the hate I bore, but purposed to be your friend
forever. You then asked of me to win for you the lady Bradamante, which
was all one as to demand of me my heart and soul. You know whether I
served you faithfully or not. Yours is the lady; possess her in peace;
but ask me not to live to see it. Be content rather that I die; for
vows have passed between myself and her which forbid that while I live
she can lawfully wive with another."

So filled was gentle Leo with astonishment at these words that for a
while he stood silent, with lips unmoved and steadfast gaze, like a
statue. And the discovery that the stranger was Rogero not only abated
not the good will he bore him, but increased it, so that his distress
for what Rogero suffered seemed equal to his own. For this, and because
he would appear deservedly an Emperor's son, and, though in other
things outdone, would not be surpassed in courtesy, he says: "Rogero,
had I known that day when your matchless valor routed my troops that
you were Rogero, your virtue would have made me your own, as then it
made me while I knew not my foe, and I should have no less gladly
rescued you from Theodora's dungeon. And if I would willingly have done
so then, how much more gladly will I now restore the gift of which you
would rob yourself to confer it upon me. The damsel is more due to you
than to me, and though I know her worth, I would forego not only her,
but life itself, rather than distress a knight like you."

This and much more he said to the same intent; till at last Rogero
replied, "I yield, and am content to live, and thus a second time owe
my life to you."

But several days elapsed before Rogero was so far restored as to return
to the royal residence, where an embassy had arrived from the Bulgarian
princes to seek the knight of the unicorn, and tender to him the crown
of that country, in place of their king, fallen in battle.

Thus were things situated when Prince Leo, leading by the hand Rogero,
clad in the battered armor in which he had sustained the conflict with
Bradamante, presented himself before the king. "Behold," he said "the
champion who maintained from dawn to setting sun the arduous contest;
he comes to claim the guerdon of the fight." King Charlemagne, with all
his peerage, stood amazed; for all believed that the Grecian prince
himself had fought with Bradamante. Then stepped forth Marphisa, and
said, "Since Rogero is not here to assert his rights, I, his sister,
undertake his cause, and will maintain it against whoever shall dare
dispute his claim." She said this with so much anger and disdain that
the prince deemed it no longer wise to feign, and withdrew Rogero's
helmet from his brow, saying, "Behold him here!" Who can describe the
astonishment and joy of Marphisa! She ran and threw her arms about her
brother's neck, nor would give way to let Charlemagne and Rinaldo,
Orlando, Dudon, and the rest, who crowded round, embrace him, and press
friendly kisses on his brow. The joyful tidings flew fast by many a
messenger to Bradamante, who in her secret chamber lay lamenting. The
blood that stagnated about her heart flowed at that notice so fast,
that she had wellnigh died for joy. Duke Aymon and the Lady Beatrice no
longer withheld their consent, and pledged their daughter to the brave
Rogero before all that gallant company.

Now came the Bulgarian ambassadors, and, kneeling at the feet of
Rogero, besought him to return with them to their country, where, in
Adrianople, the crown and sceptre were awaiting his acceptance. Prince
Leo united his persuasions to theirs, and promised, in his royal
father's name, that peace should be restored on their part. Rogero gave
his consent, and it was surmised that none of the virtues which shone
so conspicuously in him so availed to recommend Rogero to the Lady
Beatrice as the hearing her future son-in-law saluted as a sovereign
prince.



THE BATTLE OF RONCESVALLES

After the expulsion of the Saracens from France Charlemagne led his
army into Spain, to punish Marsilius, the king of that country, for
having sided with the African Saracens in the late war. Charlemagne
succeeded in all his attempts, and compelled Marsilius to submit, and
pay tribute to France. Our readers will remember Gano, otherwise called
Gan, or Ganelon, whom we mentioned in one of our early chapters as an
old courtier of Charlemagne, and a deadly enemy of Orlando, Rinaldo,
and all their friends. He had great influence over Charles, from
equality of age and long intimacy; and he was not without good
qualities: he was brave and sagacious, but envious, false, and
treacherous. Gan prevailed on Charles to send him as ambassador to
Marsilius, to arrange the tribute. He embraced Orlando over and over
again at taking leave, using such pains to seem loving and sincere,
that his hypocrisy was manifest to every one but the old monarch. He
fastened with equal tenderness on Oliver, who smiled contemptuously in
his face, and thought to himself, "You may make as many fair speeches
as you choose, but you lie." All the other paladins who were present
thought the same, and they said as much to the Emperor, adding that Gan
should on no account be sent ambassador to the Spaniards. But Charles
was infatuated.

Gan was received with great honor by Marsilius. The king, attended by
his lords, came fifteen miles out of Saragossa to meet him, and then
conducted him into the city with acclamations. There was nothing for
several days but balls, games, and exhibitions of chivalry, the ladies
throwing flowers on the heads of the French knights, and the people
shouting, "France! Mountjoy and St. Denis!"

After the ceremonies of the first reception the king and the ambassador
began to understand one another. One day they sat together in a garden
on the border of a fountain. The water was so clear and smooth it
reflected every object around, and the spot was encircled with
fruit-trees which quivered with the fresh air. As they sat and talked,
as if without restraint, Gan, without looking the king in the face, was
enabled to see the expression of his countenance in the water, and
governed his speech accordingly. Marsilius was equally adroit, and
watched the face of Gan while he addressed him. Marsilius began by
lamenting, not as to the ambassador, but as to the friend, the injuries
which Charles had done him by invading his dominions, charging him with
wishing to take his kingdom from him and give it to Orlando; till at
length he plainly uttered his belief that if that ambitious paladin
were but dead good men would get their rights.

Gan heaved a sigh, as if he was unwillingly compelled to allow the
force of what the king said; but unable to contain himself long he
lifted up his face, radiant with triumphant wickedness, and exclaimed:
"Every word you utter is truth; die he must, and die also must Oliver,
who struck me that foul blow at court. Is it treachery to punish
affronts like these? I have planned everything,--I have settled
everything already with their besotted master. Orlando will come to
your borders--to Roncesvalles--for the purpose of receiving the
tribute. Charles will await him at the foot of the mountains. Orlando
will bring but a small band with him: you, when you meet him, will have
secretly your whole army at your back. You surround him, and who
receives tribute then?"

The new Judas had scarcely uttered these words when his exultation was
interrupted by a change in the face of nature. The sky was suddenly
overcast, there was thunder and lightning, a laurel was split in two
from head to foot, and the Carob-tree under which Gan was sitting,
which is said to be the species of tree on which Judas Iscariot hung
himself, dropped one of its pods on his head.

Marsilius, as well as Gan, was appalled at this omen; but on assembling
his soothsayers they came to the conclusion that the laurel-tree turned
the omen against the Emperor, the successor of the Caesars, though one
of them renewed the consternation of Gan by saying that he did not
understand the meaning of the tree of Judas, and intimating that
perhaps the ambassador could explain it. Gan relieved his vexation by
anger; the habit of wickedness prevailed over all other considerations;
and the king prepared to march to Roncesvalles at the head of all his
forces.

Gan wrote to Charlemagne to say how humbly and submissively Marsilius
was coming to pay the tribute into the hands of Orlando, and how
handsome it would be of the Emperor to meet him half-way, and so be
ready to receive him after the payment at his camp. He added a
brilliant account of the tribute, and the accompanying presents. The
good Emperor wrote in turn to say how pleased he was with the
ambassador's diligence, and that matters were arranged precisely as he
wished. His court, however, had its suspicion still, though they little
thought Gan's object in bringing Charles into the neighborhood of
Roncesvalles was to deliver him into the hands of Marsilius, after
Orlando should have been destroyed by him.

Orlando, however, did as his lord and sovereign desired. He went to
Roncesvalles, accompanied by a moderate train of warriors, not dreaming
of the atrocity that awaited him. Gan, meanwhile, had hastened back to
France, in order to show himself free and easy in the presence of
Charles, and secure the success of his plot; while Marsilius, to make
assurance doubly sure, brought into the passes of Roncesvalles no less
than three armies, which were successively to fall on the paladin in
case of the worst, and so extinguish him with numbers. He had also, by
Gan's advice, brought heaps of wine and good cheer to be set before his
victims in the first instance; "for that," said the traitor, "will
render the onset the more effective, the feasters being unarmed. One
thing, however, I must not forget," added he; "my son Baldwin is sure
to be with Orlando; you must take care of his life for my sake."

"I give him this vesture off my own body," said the king; "let him wear
it in the battle, and have no fear. My soldiers shall be directed not
to touch him."

Gan went away rejoicing to France. He embraced the sovereign and the
court all round with the air of a man who had brought them nothing but
blessings, and the old king wept for very tenderness and delight.

"Something is going on wrong, and looks very black," thought Malagigi,
the good wizard; "Rinaldo is not here, and it is indispensably
necessary that he should be. I must find out where he is, and
Ricciardetto too, and send for them with all speed."

Malagigi called up by his art a wise, terrible, and cruel spirit, named
Ashtaroth. "Tell me, and tell me truly, of Rinaldo," said Malagigi to
the spirit. The demon looked hard at the paladin, and said nothing. His
aspect was clouded and violent.

The enchanter, with an aspect still cloudier, bade Ashtaroth lay down
that look, and made signs as if he would resort to angrier compulsion;
and the devil, alarmed, loosened his tongue, and said, "You have not
told me what you desire to know of Rinaldo."

"I desire to know what he has been doing, and where he is."

"He has been conquering and baptizing the world, east and west," said
the demon, "and is now in Egypt with Ricciardetto."

"And what has Gan been plotting with Marsilius?" inquired Malagigi;
"and what is to come of it?"

"I know not," said the devil. "I was not attending to Gan at the time,
and we fallen spirits know not the future. All I discern is that by the
signs and comets in the heavens something dreadful is about to
happen--something very strange, treacherous, and bloody; and that Gan
has a seat ready prepared for him in hell."

"Within three days," cried the enchanter, loudly, "bring Rinaldo and
Ricciardetto into the pass of Ronces-Valles. Do it, and I hereby
undertake to summon thee no more."

"Suppose they will not trust themselves with me?" said the spirit.

"Enter Rinaldo's horse, and bring him, whether he trust thee or not."

"It shall be done," returned the demon.

There was an earthquake, and Ashtaroth disappeared.

Marsilius now made his first movement towards the destruction of
Orlando, by sending before him his vassal, King Blanchardin, with his
presents of wines and other luxuries. The temperate but courteous hero
took them in good part, and distributed them as the traitor wished; and
then Blanchardin, on pretence of going forward to salute Charlemagne,
returned, and put himself at the head of the second army, which was the
post assigned him by his liege-lord. King Falseron, whose son Orlando
had slain in battle, headed the first army, and King Balugante the
third. Marsilius made a speech to them, in which he let them into his
design, and concluded by recommending to their good will the son of his
friend Gan, whom they would know by the vest he had sent him, and who
was the only soul amongst the Christian they were to spare.

This son of Gan, meanwhile, and several of the paladins, who distrusted
the misbelievers, and were anxious at all events to be with Orlando,
had joined the hero in the fatal valley; so that the little Christian
host, considering the tremendous valor of their lord and his friends,
were not to be sold for nothing. Rinaldo, alas! the second thunderbolt
of Christendom, was destined not to be there in time to meet the issue.
The paladins in vain begged Orlando to be on his guard against
treachery, and send for a more numerous body of men. The great heart of
the Champion of the Faith was unwilling to harbor suspicion as long as
he could help it. He refused to summon aid which might be superfluous;
neither would he do anything but what his liege-lord had directed. And
yet he could not wholly repress a misgiving. A shadow had fallen on his
heart, great and cheerful as it was. The anticipations of his friends
disturbed him, in spite of the face with which he met them. Perhaps by
a certain foresight he felt his death approaching; but he felt bound
not to encourage the impression. Besides, time pressed; the moment of
the looked-for tribute was at hand, and little combinations of
circumstances determine often the greatest events.

King Marsilius was to arrive early next day with the tribute, and
Oliver, with the morning sun, rode forth to reconnoitre, and see if he
could discover the peaceful pomp of the Spanish court in the distance.
He rode up the nearest height, and from the top of it beheld the first
army of Marsilius already forming in the passes. "O devil Gan," he
exclaimed, "this then is the consummation of thy labors!" Oliver put
spurs to his horse, and galloped back down the mountain to Orlando.

"Well," cried the hero, "what news?"

"Bad news," said his cousin, "such as you would not hear of yesterday.
Marsilius is here in arms, and all the world is with him."

The paladins pressed round Orlando, and entreated him to sound his
horn, in token that he needed help. His only answer was to mount his
horse, and ride up the mountain with Sansonetto.

As soon, however, as he cast forth his eyes, and beheld what was round
about him, he turned in sorrow, and looked down into Roncesvalles, and
said, "O miserable valley! the blood shed in thee this day will color
thy name forever."

Orlando's little camp were furious against the Saracens. They armed
themselves with the greatest impatience. There was nothing but lacing
of helmets and mounting of horses, while good Archbishop Turpin went
from rank to rank exhorting and encouraging the warriors of Christ.
Orlando and his captains withdrew for a moment to consultation. He
fairly groaned for sorrow, and at first had not a word to say, so
wretched he felt at having brought his people to die in Roncesvalles.
Then he said: "If it had entered into my heart to conceive the king of
Spain to be such a villain never would you have seen this day. He has
exchanged with me a thousand courtesies and good words; and I thought
that the worse enemies we had been before, the better friends we had
become now. I fancied every human being capable of this kind of virtue
on a good opportunity, saving, indeed, such base-hearted wretches as
can never forgive their very forgivers; and of these I did not suppose
him to be one. Let us die, if die we must, like honest and gallant men,
so that it shall be said of us it was only our bodies that died. The
reason why I did not sound the horn was partly because I thought it did
not become us, and partly because our liege lord could hardly save us,
even if he heard it." And with these words Orlando sprang to his horse,
crying, "Aways against the Saracens!" But he had no sooner turned his
face than he wept bitterly, and said, "O Holy Virgin, think not of me,
the sinner Orlando, but have pity on these thy servants!"

And now with a mighty dust, and an infinite sound of horns and
tambours, which came filling the valley, the first army of the infidels
made its appearance, horses neighing, and a thousand pennons flying in
the air. King Falseron led them on, saying to his officers: "Let nobody
dare to lay a finger on Orlando. He belongs to myself. The revenge of
my son's death is mine. I will cut the man down that comes between us."
"Now, friends," said Orlando, "every man for himself, and St. Michael
for us all! There is not one here that is not a perfect knight." And he
might well say it, for the flower of all France was there, except
Rinaldo and Ricciardetto--every man a picked man, all friends and
constant companions of Orlando.

So the captains of the little troop and of the great army sat looking
at one another, and singling one another out as the latter came on, and
then the knights put spear in rest, and ran for a while two and two in
succession, one against the other.

Astolpho was the first to move. He ran against Arlotto of Sorio, and
thrust his antagonist's body out of the saddle, and his soul into the
other world. Oliver encountered Malprimo, and, though he received a
thrust which hurt him, sent his lance right through the heart of
Malprimo.

Falseron was daunted at this blow. "Truly," thought he, "this is a
marvel." Oliver did not press on among the Saracens, his wound was too
painful; but Orlando now put himself and his whole band in motion, and
you may guess what an uproar ensued. The sound of the rattling of blows
and helmets was as if the forge of Vulcan had been thrown open.
Falseron beheld Orlando coming so furiously, that he thought him a
Lucifer who had burst his chain, and was quite of another mind than
when he purposed to have him all to himself. On the contrary, he
recommended himself to his gods, and turned away, meaning to wait for a
more auspicious season of revenge. But Orlando hailed him with a
terrible voice, saying, "O thou traitor! was this the end to which old
quarrels were made up?" Then he dashed at Falseron with a fury so
swift, and at the same time with a mastery of his lance so marvellous,
that, though he plunged it in the man's body so as instantly to kill
him, and then withdrew it, the body did not move in the saddle. The
hero himself, as he rushed onwards, was fain to see the end of a stroke
so perfect, and turning his horse back, touched the carcass with his
sword, and it fell on the instant!

When the infidels beheld their leader dead such fear fell upon them
that they were for leaving the field to the paladins, but they were
unable. Marsilius had drawn the rest of his forces round the valley
like a net, so that their shoulders were turned in vain. Orlando rode
into the thick of them, and wherever he went thunderbolts fell upon
helmets. Oliver was again in the fray, with Walter and Baldwin, Avino
and Avolio, while Arch-bishop Turpin had changed his crosier for a
lance, and chased a new flock before him to the mountains.

Yet what could be done against foes without number? Marsilius
constantly pours them in. The paladins are as units to thousands. Why
tarry the horses of Rinaldo and Ricciardetto?

The horses did not tarry, but fate had been quicker than enchantment.
Ashtaroth had presented himself to Rinaldo in Egypt, and, after telling
his errand, he and Foul-mouth, his servant, entered the horses of
Rinaldo and Ricciardetto, which began to neigh, and snort, and leap
with the fiends within them, till off they flew through the air over
the pyramids and across the desert, and reached Spain and the scene of
action just as Marsilius brought up his third army. The two paladins on
their horses dropped right into the midst of the Saracens, and began
making such havoc among them that Marsilius, who overlooked the fight
from a mountain, thought his soldiers had turned against one another.
Orlando beheld it, and guessed it could be no other but his cousins,
and pressed to meet them. Oliver coming up at the same moment, the
rapture of the whole party is not to be expressed. After a few hasty
words of explanation they were forced to turn again upon the enemy,
whose numbers seemed perfectly without limit.

Orlando, making a bloody passage towards Marsilius, struck a youth on
the head, whose helmet was so strong as to resist the blow, but at the
same time flew off, Orlando prepared to strike a second blow, when the
youth exclaimed, "Hold! you loved my father; I am Bujaforte!" The
paladin had never seen Bujaforte, but he saw the likeness to the good
old man, his father, and he dropped his sword. "O Bujaforte," said he,
"I loved him indeed; but what does his son do here fighting against his
friends?"

Bujaforte could not at once speak for weeping. At length he said: "I am
forced to be here by my lord and master, Marsilius; and I have made a
show of fighting, but have not hurt a single Christian. Treachery is on
every side of you. Baldwin himself has a vest given him by Marsilius,
that everybody may know the son of his friend Gan, and do him no harm."

"Put your helmet on again," said Orlando, "and behave just as you have
done. Never will your father's friend be an enemy to the son."

The hero then turned in fury to look for Baldwin, who was hastening
towards him at that moment, with friendliness in his looks.

"'Tis strange," said Baldwin, "I have done my duty as well as I could,
yet nobody will come against me. I have slain right and left, and
cannot comprehend what it is that makes the stoutest infidels avoid me."

"Take off your vest," said Orlando, contemptuously, "and you will soon
discover the secret, if you wish to know it. Your father has sold us to
Marsilius, all but his honorable son."

"If my father," said Baldwin, impetuously tearing off the vest, "has
been such a villain, and I escape dying, I will plunge this sword
through his heart. But I am no traitor, Orlando, and you do me wrong to
say it. Think not I can live with dishonor."

Baldwin spurred off into the fight, not waiting to hear another word
from Orlando, who was very sorry for what he had said, for he perceived
that the youth was in despair.

And now the fight raged beyond all it had done before; twenty pagans
went down for one paladin, but still the paladins fell. Sansonetto was
beaten to earth by the club of Grandonio, Walter d'Amulion had his
shoulder broken, Berlinghieri and Ottone were slain, and at last
Astolpho fell, in revenge of whose death Orlando turned the spot where
he died into a lake of Saracen blood. The luckless Bujaforte met
Rinaldo, and before he could explain how he seemed to be fighting on
the Saracen side received such a blow upon the head that he fell,
unable to utter a word. Orlando, cutting his way to a spot where there
was a great struggle and uproar, found the poor youth Baldwin, the son
of Gan, with two spears in his breast. "I am no traitor now," said
Baldwin, and those were the last words he said. Orlando was bitterly
sorry to have been the cause of his death, and tears streamed from his
eyes. At length down went Oliver himself. He had become blinded with
his own blood, and smitten Orlando without knowing him. "How now,
cousin," cried Orlando, "have you too gone over to the enemy?" "O my
lord and master," cried the other, "I ask your pardon. I can see
nothing; I am dying. Some traitor has stabbed me in the back. If you
love me, lead my horse into the thick of them, so that I may not die
unavenged."

"I shall die myself before long," said Orlando, "out of very toil and
grief; so we will go together."

Orlando led his cousin's horse where the press was thickest, and
dreadful was the strength of the dying man and his tired companion.
They made a street through which they passed out of the battle, and
Orlando led his cousin away to his tent, and said, "Wait a little till
I return, for I will go and sound the horn on the hill yonder."

"'Tis of no use," said Oliver, "my spirit is fast going and desires to
be with its Lord and Saviour."

He would have said more, but his words came from him imperfectly, like
those of a man in a dream, and so he expired.

When Orlando saw him dead he felt as if he was alone on the earth, and
he was quite willing to leave it, only he wished that King Charles, at
the foot of the mountains, should know how the case stood before he
went. So he took up the horn and blew it three times, with such force
that the blood burst out of his nose and mouth. Turpin says that at the
third blast the horn broke in two.

In spite of all the noise of the battle, the sound of the horn broke
over it like a voice out of the other world. They say that birds fell
dead at it, and that the whole Saracen army drew back in terror.
Charlemagne was sitting in the midst of his court when the sound
reached him, and Gan was there. The Emperor was the first to hear it.

"Do you hear that?" said he to his nobles. "Did you hear the horn as I
heard it?"

Upon this they all listened, and Gan felt his heart misgive him. The
horn sounded a second time.

"What is the meaning of this?" said Charles.

"Orlando is hunting," observed Gan, "and the stag is killed."

But when the horn sounded yet a third time, and the blast was one of so
dreadful a vehemence, everybody looked at the other, and then they all
looked at Gan in a fury. Charles rose from his seat.

"This is no hunting of the stag," said he. "The sound goes to my very
heart. O Gan! O Gan! Not for thee do I blush, but for myself. O foul
and monstrous villain! Take him, gentleman, and keep him in close
prison. Would to God I had not lived to see this day!"

But it was no time for words. They put the traitor in prison and then
Charles, with all his court, took his way to Roncesvalles, grieving and
praying.

It was afternoon when the horn sounded, and half an hour after it when
the Emperor set out; and meantime Orlando had returned to the fight
that he might do his duty, however hopeless, as long as he could sit
his horse. At length he found his end approaching, for toil and fever,
and rode all alone to a fountain where he had before quenched his
thirst. His horse was wearier than he, and no sooner had his master
alighted than the beast, kneeling down as if to take leave, and to say,
"I have brought you to a place of rest," fell dead at his feet. Orlando
cast water on him from the fountain, not wishing to believe him dead;
but when he found it to no purpose, he grieved for him as if he had
been a human being, and addressed him by name with tears, and asked
forgiveness if he had ever done him wrong. They say that the horse, at
these words, opened his eyes a little, and looked kindly at his master,
and then stirred never more. They say also that Orlando then summoning
all his strength, smote a rock near him with his beautiful sword
Durindana, thinking to shiver the steel in pieces, and so prevent its
falling into the hands of the enemy, but though the rock split like a
slate, and a great cleft remained ever after to astonish the eyes of
pilgrims, the sword remained uninjured.

And now Rinaldo and Ricciardetto came up, with Turpin, having driven
back the Saracens, and told Orlando that the battle was won. Then
Orlando knelt before Turpin and begged remission of his sins, and
Turpin gave him absolution. Orlando fixed his eyes on the hilt of his
sword as on a crucifix, and embraced it, and he raised his eyes and
appeared like a creature seraphical and transfigured, and bowing his
head, he breathed out his pure soul.

And now King Charles and his nobles came up. The Emperor, at sight of
the dead Orlando, threw himself, as if he had been a reckless youth,
from his horse, and embraced and kissed the body, and said: "I bless
thee, Orlando; I bless thy whole life, and all that thou wast, and all
that thou ever didst, and the father that begat thee; and I ask pardon
of thee for believing those who brought thee to thine end. They shall
have their reward, O thou beloved one! But indeed it is thou that
livest, and I who am worse than dead."

Horrible to the Emperor's eyes was the sight of the field of
Roncesvalles. The Saracens indeed had fled, conquered; but all his
paladins but two were left on it dead, and the whole valley looked like
a great slaughter-house, trampled into blood and dirt, and reeking to
the heat. Charles trembled to his heart's core for wonder and agony.
After gazing dumbly on the place he cursed it with a solemn curse, and
wished that never grass might grow in it again, nor seed of any kind,
neither within it nor on any of its mountains around, but the anger of
Heaven abide over it forever.

Charles and his warriors went after the Saracens into Spain. They took
and fired Saragossa, and Marsilius was hung to the carob-tree under
which he had planned his villainy with Gan; and Gan was hung and drawn
and quartered in Roncesvalles, amidst the execrations of the country.



RINALDO AND BAYARD

CHARLEMAGNE was overwhelmed with grief at the loss of so many of his
bravest warriors at the disaster of Roncesvalles, and bitterly
reproached himself for his credulity in resigning himself so completely
to the counsels of the treacherous Count Gan. Yet he soon fell into a
similar snare when he suffered his unworthy son, Charlot, to acquire
such an influence over him, that he constantly led him into acts of
cruelty and injustice that in his right mind he would have scorned to
commit. Rinaldo and his brothers, for some slight offence to the
imperious young prince, were forced to fly from Paris, and to take
shelter in their castle of Montalban; for Charles had publicly said, if
he could take them he would hang them all. He sent numbers of his
bravest knights to arrest them, but all without success. Either Rinaldo
foiled their efforts and sent them back, stripped of their armor and of
their glory, or, after meeting and conferring with him, they came back
and told the king they could not be his instruments for such a work.

At last Charles himself raised a great army, and went in person to
compel the paladin to submit. He ravaged all the country round about
Montalban, so that supplies of food should be cut off, and he
threatened death to any who should attempt to issue forth, hoping to
compel the garrison to submit for want of food.

Rinaldo's resources had been brought so low that it seemed useless to
contend any longer. His brothers had been taken prisoners in a
skirmish, and his only hope of saving their lives was in making terms
with the king.

So he sent a messenger, offering to yield himself and his castle if the
king would spare his and his brothers' lives. While the messenger was
gone Rinaldo, impatient to learn what tidings he might bring, rode out
to meet him. When he had ridden as far as he thought prudent he stopped
in a wood, and alighting, tied Bayard to a tree. Then he sat down, and,
as he waited, he fell asleep. Bayard meanwhile got loose, and strayed
away where the grass tempted him. Just then came along some country
people, who said to one another, "Look, is not that the great horse
Bayard that Rinaldo rides? Let us take him, and carry him to King
Charles, who will pay us well for our trouble." They did so, and the
king was delighted with his prize, and gave them a present that made
them rich to their dying day.

When Rinaldo woke he looked round for his horse, and, finding him not,
he groaned, and said, "O unlucky hour that I was born! how fortune
persecutes me!" So desperate was he that he took off his armor and his
spurs, saying, "What need have I of these, since Bayard is lost?" While
he stood thus lamenting, a man came from the thicket, seemingly bent
with age. He had a long beard hanging over his breast, and eyebrows
that almost covered his eyes. He bade Rinaldo good day. Rinaldo thanked
him, and said, "A good day I have hardly had since I was born." Then
said the old man, "Signor Rinaldo, you must not despair, for God will
make all things turn to the best." Rinaldo answered, "My trouble is too
heavy for me to hope relief. The king has taken my brothers, and means
to put them to death. I thought to rescue them by means of my horse
Bayard, but while I slept some thief has stolen him." The old man
replied, "I will remember you and your brothers in my prayers. I am a
poor man, have you not something to give me?" Rinaldo said, "I have
nothing to give," but then he recollected his spurs. He gave them to
the beggar, and said, "Here, take my spurs. They are the first present
my mother gave me when my father, Count Aymon, dubbed me knight. They
ought to bring you ten pounds."

The old man took the spurs, and put them into his sack, and said,
"Noble sir, have you nothing else you can give me?" Rinaldo replied,
"Are you making sport of me? I tell you truly if it were not for shame
to beat one so helpless, I would teach you better manners." The old man
said, "Of a truth, sir, if you did so you would do a great sin. If all
had beaten me of whom I have begged I should have been killed long ago,
for I ask alms in churches and convents, and wherever I can." "You say
true," replied Rinaldo, "if you did not ask, none would relieve you."
The old man said, "True, noble sir, therefore I pray if you have
anything more to spare, give it me." Rinaldo gave him his mantle, and
said, "Take it, pilgrim. I give it you for the love of Christ, that God
would save my brothers from a shameful death, and help me to escape out
of King Charles's power."

The pilgrim took the mantle, folded it up, and put it into his bag.
Then a third time he said to Rinaldo, "Sir, have you nothing left to
give me that I may remember you in my prayers?" "Wretch!" exclaimed
Rinaldo, "do you make me your sport?" and he drew his sword, and struck
at him; but the old man warded off the blow with his staff, and said,
"Rinaldo, would you slay your cousin, Malagigi?" When Rinaldo heard
that he stayed his hand, and gazed doubtingly on the old man, who now
threw aside his disguise, and appeared to be indeed Malagigi. "Dear
cousin," said Rinaldo, "pray forgive me. I did not know you. Next to
God, my trust is in you. Help my brothers to escape out of prison, I
entreat you. I have lost my horse, and therefore cannot render them any
assistance." Malagigi answered, "Cousin Rinaldo, I will enable you to
recover your horse. Meanwhile, you must do as I say."

Then Malagigi took from his sack a gown, and gave it to Rinaldo to put
on over his armor, and a hat that was full of holes, and an old pair of
shoes to put on. They looked like two pilgrims, very old and poor. Then
they went forth from the wood, and after a little while saw four monks
riding along the road. Malagigi said to Rinaldo, "I will go meet the
monks, and see what news I can learn."

Malagigi learned from the monks that on the approaching festival there
would be a great crowd of people at court, for the prince was going to
show the ladies the famous horse Bayard that used to belong to Rinaldo.
"What!" said the pilgrim; "is Bayard there?" "Yes," answered the monks;
"the king has given him to Charlot, and, after the prince has ridden
him the king means to pass sentence on the brothers of Rinaldo, and
have them hanged." Then Malagigi asked alms of the monks, but they
would give him none, till he threw aside his pilgrim garb, and let them
see his armor, when, partly for charity and partly for terror, they
gave him a golden cup, adorned with precious stones that sparkled in
the sunshine.

Malagigi then hastened back to Rinaldo, and told him what he had
learned.

The morning of the feast-day Rinaldo and Malagigi came to the place
where the sports were to be held. Malagigi gave Rinaldo his spurs back
again, and said, "Cousin, put on your spurs, for you will need them."
"How shall I need them," said Rinaldo, "since I have lost my horse?"
Yet he did as Malagigi directed him.

When the two had taken their stand on the border of the field among the
crowd the princes and ladies of the court began to assemble. When they
were all assembled the king came also, and Charlot with him, near whom
the horse Bayard was led, in the charge of grooms, who were expressly
enjoined to guard him safely. The king, looking round on the circle of
spectators, saw Malagigi and Rinaldo, and observed the splendid cup
that they had, and said to Charlot, "See, my son, what a brilliant cup
those two pilgrims have got. It seems to be worth a hundred ducats."
"That is true," said Charlot; "Let us go and ask where they got it." So
they rode to the place where the pilgrims stood, and Charlot stopped
Bayard close to them.

The horse snuffed at the pilgrims, knew Rinaldo, and caressed his
master. The king said to Malagigi, "Friend, where did you get that
beautiful cup?" Malagigi replied, "Honorable sir, I paid for it all the
money I have saved from eleven years' begging in churches and convents.
The Pope himself has blessed it, and given it the power that whosoever
eats or drinks out of it shall be pardoned of all his sins." Then said
the king to Charlot, "My son, these are right holy men; see how the
dumb beast worships them."

Then the king said to Malagigi, "Give me a morsel from your cup, that I
may be cleared of my sins." Malagigi answered, "Illustrious lord, I
dare not do it, unless you will forgive all who have at any time
offended you. You know that Christ forgave all those who had betrayed
and crucified him." The king replied, "Friend, that is true; but
Rinaldo has so grievously offended me, that I cannot forgive him, nor
that other man, Malagigi, the magician. These two shall never live in
my kingdom again. If I catch them I will certainly have them hanged.
But tell me, pilgrim, who is that man who stands beside you?" "He is
deaf, dumb, and blind," said Malagigi. Then the king said again, "Give
me to drink of your cup, to take away my sins." Malagigi answered, "My
lord king, here is my poor brother, who for fifty days has not heard,
spoken, nor seen. This misfortune befell him in a house where we found
shelter, and the day before yesterday we met with a wise woman, who
told him the only hope of a cure for him was to come to some place
where Bayard was to be ridden, and to mount and ride him; that would do
him more good than anything else." Then said the king, "Friend, you
have come to the right place, for Bayard is to be ridden here to-day.
Give me a draught from your cup, and your companion shall ride upon
Bayard." Malagigi, hearing these words, said, "Be it so." Then the
king, with great devotion, took a spoon, and dipped a portion from the
pilgrim's cup, believing that his sins should be thereby forgiven.

When this was done, the king said to Charlot, "Son, I request that you
will let this sick pilgrim sit on your horse, and ride if he can, for
by so doing he will be healed of all his infirmities." Charlot replied,
"That will I gladly do." So saying, he dismounted, and the servants
took the pilgrim in their arms, and helped him on the horse.

Wher Rinaldo was mounted, he put his feet in the stirrups, and said, "I
would like to ride a little." Malagigi, hearing him speak, seemed
delighted, and asked him whether he could see and hear also. "Yes,"
said Rinaldo, "I am healed of all my infirmities." When the king heard
it he said to Bishop Turpin, "My lord bishop, we must celebrate this
with a procession, with crosses and banners, for it is a great miracle."

When Rinaldo remarked that he was not carefully watched, he spoke to
the horse, and touched him with the spurs. Bayard knew that his master
was upon him, and he started off upon a rapid pace, and in a few
moments was a good way off. Malagigi pretended to be in great alarm. "O
noble king and master," he cried, "my poor companion is run away with;
he will fall and break his neck." The king ordered his knights to ride
after the pilgrim, and bring him back, or help him if need were. They
did so, but it was in vain. Rinaldo left them all behind him, and kept
on his way till he reached Montalban. Malagigi was suffered to depart,
unsuspected, and he went his way, making sad lamentation for the fate
of his comrade, who he pretended to think must surely be dashed to
pieces.

Malagigi did not go far, but having changed his disguise, returned to
where the king was, and employed his best art in getting the brothers
of Rinaldo out of prison. He succeeded; and all three got safely to
Montalban, where Rinaldo's joy at the rescue of his brothers and the
recovery of Bayard was more than tongue can tell.



DEATH OF RINALDO

THE distress in Rinaldo's castle for want of food grew more severe
every day, under the pressure of the siege. The garrison were forced to
kill their horses, both to save the provision they would consume, and
to make food of their flesh. At last all the horses were killed except
Bayard, and Rinaldo said to his brothers, "Bayard must die, for we have
nothing else to eat." So they went to the stable and brought out Bayard
to kill him. But Alardo said, "Brother, let Bayard live a little
longer; who knows what God may do for us?"

Bayard heard these words, and understood them as if he was a man, and
fell on his knees, as if he would beg for mercy. When Rinaldo saw the
distress of his horse his heart failed him, and he let him live.

Just at this time Aya, Rinaldo's mother, who was the sister of the
Emperor, came to the camp, attended by knights and ladies, to intercede
for her sons. She fell on her knees before the king, and besought him
that he would pardon Rinaldo and his brothers: and all the peers and
knights took her side, and entreated the king to grant her prayer. Then
said the king, "Dear sister, you act the part of a good mother, and I
respect your tender heart, and yield to your entreaties. I will spare
your sons their lives if they submit implicitly to my will."

When Charlot heard this he approached the king and whispered in his
ear. And the king turned to his sister and said, "Charlot must have
Bayard, because I have given the horse to him. Now go, my sister, and
tell Rinaldo what I have said."

When the Lady Aya heard these words she was delighted, thanked God in
her heart, and said, "Worthy king and brother, I will do as you bid
me." So she went into the castle, where her sons received her most
joyfully and affectionately, and she told them the king's offer. Then
Alardo said, "Brother, I would rather have the king's enmity than give
Bayard to Charlot, for I believe he will kill him." Likewise said all
the brothers. When Rinaldo heard them he said, "Dear brothers, if we
may win our forgiveness by giving up the horse, so be it. Let us make
our peace, for we cannot stand against the king's power." Then he went
to his mother, and told her they would give the horse to Charlot, and
more, too, if the king would pardon them, and forgive all that they had
done against his crown and dignity. The lady returned to Charles and
told him the answer of her sons.

When the peace was thus made between the king and the sons of Aymon,
the brothers came forth from the castle, bringing Bayard with them,
and, falling at the king's feet, begged his forgiveness. The king bade
them rise, and received them into favor in the sight of all his noble
knights and counsellors, to the great joy of all, especially of the
Lady Aya, their mother. Then Rinaldo took the horse Bayard, gave him to
Charlot, and said, "My lord and prince, this horse I give to you; do
with him as to you seems good." Charlot took him, as had been agreed
on. Then he made the servants take him to the bridge, and throw him
into the water. Bayard sank to the bottom, but soon came to the surface
again and swam, saw Rinaldo looking at him, came to land, ran to his
old master, and stood by him as proudly as if he had understanding, and
would say, "Why did you treat me so?" When the prince saw that he said,
"Rinaldo, give me the horse again, for he must die." Rinaldo replied,
"My lord and prince, he is yours without dispute," and gave him to him.
The prince then had a millstone tied to each foot, and two to his neck,
and made them throw him again into the water. Bayard struggled in the
water, looked up to his master, threw off the stones, and came back to
Rinaldo.

When Alardo saw that, he said, "Now must thou be disgraced forever,
brother, if thou give up the horse again." But Rinaldo answered,
"Brother, be still. Shall I for the horse's life provoke the anger of
the king again?" Then Alardo said, "Ah, Bayard! what a return do we
make for all thy true love and service!" Rinaldo gave the horse to the
prince again, and said, "My lord, if the horse comes out again I cannot
return him to you any more, for it wrings my heart too much." Then
Charlot had Bayard loaded with the stones as before, and thrown into
the water; and commanded Rinaldo that he should not stand where the
horse would see him. When Bayard rose to the surface he stretched his
neck out of the water and looked round for his master, but saw him not.
Then he sunk to the bottom.

Rinaldo was so distressed for the loss of Bayard that he made a vow to
ride no horse again all his life long, nor to bind a sword to his side,
but to become a hermit. He resolved to betake himself to some wild
wood, but first to return to his castle, to see his children, and to
appoint to each his share of his estate.

So he took leave of the king and of his brothers, and returned to
Montalban, and his brothers remained with the king. Rinaldo called his
children to him, and he made his eldest born, Aymeric, a knight, and
made him lord of his castle and of his land. He gave to the rest what
other goods he had, and kissed and embraced them all, commended them to
God, and then departed from them with a heavy heart.

He had not travelled far when he entered a wood, and there met with a
hermit, who had long been retired from the world. Rinaldo greeted him,
and the hermit replied courteously, and asked him who he was and what
was his purpose. Rinaldo replied, "Sir, I have led a sinful life; many
deeds of violence have I done, and many men have I slain, not always in
a good cause, but often under the impulse of my own headstrong
passions. I have also been the cause of the death of many of my
friends, who took my part, not because they thought me in the right,
but only for love of me. And now I come to make confession of all my
sins, and to do penance for the rest of my life, if perhaps the mercy
of God will forgive me." The hermit said, "Friend, I perceive you have
fallen into great sins, and have broken the commandments of God, but
his mercy is greater than your sins; and if you repent from your heart,
and lead a new life, there is yet hope for you that he will forgive you
what is past." So Rinaldo was comforted, and said, "Master, I will stay
with you, and what you bid ane I will do." The hermit replied, "Roots
and vegetables will be your food; shirt or shoes you may not wear; your
lot must be poverty and want if you stay with me." Rinaldo replied, "I
will cheerfully bear all this, and more." So he remained three whole
years with the hermit, and after that his strength failed, and it
seemed as if he was like to die.

One night the hermit had a dream, and heard a voice from heaven, which
commanded him to say to his companion that he must without delay go to
the Holy Land, and fight against the heathen. The hermit, when he heard
that voice, was glad, and calling Rinaldo, he said, "Friend, God's
angel has commanded me to say to you that you must without delay go to
Jerusalem, and help our fellow-Christians in their struggle with the
Infidels." Then said Rinaldo, "Ah! master, how can I do that? It is
over three years since I made a vow no more to ride a horse, nor take a
sword or spear in my hand." The hermit answered, "Dear friend, obey
God, and do what the angel commanded." "I will do so," said Rinaldo,
"and pray for me, my master, that God may guide me right." Then he
departed, and went to the seaside, and took ship and came to Tripoli in
Syria.

And as he went on his way his strength returned to him, till it was
equal to what it was in his best days. And though he never mounted a
horse, nor took a sword in his hand, yet with his pilgrim's staff he
did good service in the armies of the Christians; and it pleased God
that he escaped unhurt, though he was present in many battles, and his
courage inspired the men with the same. At last a truce was made with
the Saracens, and Rinaldo, now old and infirm, wishing to see his
native land again before he died, took ship and sailed for France. When
he arrived he shunned to go to the resorts of the great, and preferred
to live among the humble folk, where he was unknown. He did country
work, and lived on milk and bread, drank water, and was therewith
content. While he so lived he heard that the city of Cologne was the
holiest and best of cities, on account of the relics and bodies of
saints who had there poured out their blood for the faith. This induced
him to betake himself thither. When the pious hero arrived at Cologne
he went to the monastery of St. Peter, and lived a holy life, occupied
night and day in devotion. It so happened that at that time in the next
town to Cologne there raged a dreadful pestilence. Many people came to
Rinaldo, to beg him to pray for them, that the plague might be stayed.
The holy man prayed fervently, and besought the Lord to take away the
plague from the people, and his prayer was heard. The stroke of the
pestilence was arrested, and all the people thanked the holy man and
praised God.

Now there was at this time at Cologne a bishop, called Agilolphus, who
was a wise and understanding man, who led a pure and secluded life, and
set a good example to others. This bishop undertook to build the Church
of St. Peter, and gave notice to all stonemasons and other workmen
round about to come to Cologne, where they should find work and wages.
Among others came Rinaldo; and he worked among the laborers and did
more than four or five common workmen. When they went to dinner he
brought stone and mortar so that they had enough for the whole day.
When the others went to bed he stretched himself out on the stones. He
ate bread only, and drank nothing but water; and had for his wages but
a penny a day. The head workman asked him his name, and where he
belonged. He would not tell, but said nothing and pursued his work.
They called him St. Peter's workman, because he was so devoted to his
work.

When the overseer saw the diligence of this holy man he chid the
laziness of the other workmen, and said, "You receive more pay than
this good man, but do not do half as much work." For this reason the
other workmen hated Rinaldo, and made a secret agreement to kill him.
They knew that he made it a practice to go every night to a certain
church to pray and give alms. So they agreed to lay wait for him, with
the purpose to kill him. When he came to the spot, they seized him, and
beat him over the head till he was dead. Then they put his body into a
sack, and stones with it, and cast it into the Rhine, in the hope the
sack would sink to the bottom, and be there concealed. But God willed
not that it should be so, but caused the sack to float on the surface,
and be thrown upon the bank. And the soul of the holy martyr was
carried by angels, with songs of praise, up to the heavens.

Now at that time the people of Dortmund had become converted to the
Christian faith; and they sent to the Bishop of Cologne, and desired
him to give them some of the holy relics that are in such abundance in
that city. So the Bishop called together his clergy to deliberate what
answer they should give to this request. And it was determined to give
to the people of Dortmund the body of the holy man who had just
suffered martyrdom.

When now the body with the coffin was put on the cart, the cart began
to move toward Dortmund without horses or help of men, and stopped not
till it reached the place where the church of St. Rinaldo now stands.
The Bishop and his clergy followed the holy man to do him honor, with
singing of hymns, for a space of three miles. And St. Rinaldo has ever
since been the patron of that place, and many wonderful works has God
done through him, as may be seen in the legends.



HUON OF BORDEAUX

WHEN Charlemagne grew old he felt the burden of government become
heavier year by year, till at last he called together his high barons
and peers to propose to abdicate the empire and the throne of France in
favor of his sons, Charlot and Lewis.

The Emperor was unreasonably partial to his eldest son; he would have
been glad to have had the barons and peers demand Charlot for their
only sovereign; but that prince was so infamous, for his falsehood and
cruelty, that the council strenuously opposed the Emperor's proposal of
abdicating, and implored him to continue to hold a sceptre which he
wielded with so much glory.

Amaury of Hauteville, cousin of Ganelon, and now head of the wicked
branch of the house of Maganza, was the secret partisan of Charlot,
whom he resembled in his loose morals and bad dispositions. Amaury
nourished the most bitter resentment against the house of Guienne, of
which the former Duke, Sevinus, had often rebuked his misdeeds. He took
advantage of this occasion to do an injury to the two young children
whom the Duke Sevinus had left under the charge of the Duchess Alice,
their mother; and at the same time, to advance his interest with
Charlot by increasing his wealth and power. With this view he suggested
to the prince a new idea.

He pretended to agree with the opinion of the barons; he said that it
would be best to try Charlot's capacity for government by giving him
some rich provinces before placing him upon the throne; and that the
Emperor, without depriving himself of any part of his realm, might give
Charlot the investiture of Guienne. For although seven years had passed
since the death of Sevinus, the young Duke, his son, had not yet
repaired to the court of Charlemagne to render the homage due to his
lawful sovereign.

We have often had occasion to admire the justice and wisdom of the
advice which on all occasions the Duke Namo of Bavaria gave to
Charlemagne, and he now discountenanced, with indignation, the selfish
advice of Amaury. He represented to the Emperor the early age of the
children of Sevinus, and the useful and glorious services of their late
father, and proposed to Charlemagne to send two knights to the Duchess
at Bordeaux, to summon her two sons to the court of the Emperor, to pay
their respects and render homage.

Charlemagne approved this advice, and sent two chevaliers to demand the
two young princes of their mother. No sooner had the Duchess learned
the approach of the two knights, than she sent distinguished persons to
receive them; and as soon as they entered the palace she presented
herself before them, with her elder and younger sons, Huon and Girard.

The deputies, delighted with the honors and caresses they received,
accompanied with rich presents, left Bordeaux with regret and on their
return represented to Charlemagne that the young Duke Huon seemed born
to tread in the footsteps of his brave father, informing him that in
three months the young princes of Guienne would present themselves at
his court.

The Duchess employed the short interval in giving her sons her last
instructions. Huon received them in his heart, and Girard gave as much
heed to them as could be expected from one so young.

The preparations for their departure having been made, the Duchess
embraced them tenderly, commending them to the care of Heaven, and
charged them to call, on their way, at the celebrated monastery of
Cluny, to visit the Abbot, the brother of their father. This Abbot,
worthy of his high dignity, had never lost an opportunity of doing
good, setting an example of every excellence, and making virtue
attractive by his example.

He received his nephews with the greatest magnificence; and, aware how
useful his presence might be to them with Charlemagne, whose valued
counsellor he was, he took with them the road to Paris.

When Amaury learned what reception the two deputies of Charlemagne had
received at Bordeaux, and the arrangements made for the visit of the
young princes to the Emperor's court, he suggested to Charlot to give
him a troop of his guards, with which he proposed to lay wait for the
young men in the wood of Montlery, put them to death, and thereby give
the prince Charlot possession of the duchy of Guienne.

A plan of treachery and violence agreed but too well with Charlot's
disposition. He not only adopted the suggestion of Amaury, but insisted
upon taking a part in it. They went out secretly, by night, followed by
a great number of attendants, all armed in black, to lie in ambuscade
in the wood where the brothers were to pass.

Girard, the younger of the two, having amused himself as he rode by
flying his hawk at such game as presented itself, had ridden in advance
of his brother and the Abbot of Cluny. Charlot, who saw him coming,
alone and unarmed, went forth to meet him, sought a quarrel with him,
and threw him from his horse with a stroke of his lance. Girard uttered
a cry as he fell; Huon heard it, and flew to his defence, with no other
weapon than his sword. He came up with him, and saw the blood flowing
from his wound. "What has this child done to you, wretch!" he exclaimed
to Charlot. "How cowardly to attack him when unprepared to defend
himself!" "By my faith," said Charlot, "I mean to do the same by you.
Know that I am the son of Duke Thierry of Ardennes, from whom your
father, Sevinus, took three castles; I have sworn to avenge him, and I
defy you." "Coward," answered Huon, "I know well the baseness that
dwells in your race; worthy son of Thierry, use the advantage that your
armor gives you; but know that I fear you not." At these words Charlot
had the wickedness to put his lance in rest, and to run upon Huon, who
had barely time to wrap his arm in his mantle. With this feeble buckler
he received the thrust of the lance. It penetrated the mantle, but
missed his body. Then, rising upon his stirrups, Sir Huon struck
Charlot so terrible a blow with his sword that the helmet was cleft
asunder, and his head too. The dastardly prince fell dead upon the
ground.

Huon now perceived that the wood was full of armed men. He called the
men of his suite, and they hastily put themselves in order, but nobody
issued from the wood to attack him. Amaury, who saw Charlot's fall, had
no desire to compromit himself; and, feeling sure that Charlemagne
would avenge the death of his son, he saw no occasion for his doing
anything more at present. He left Huon and the Abbot of Cluny to bind
up the wound of Girard, and, having seen them depart and resume their
way to Paris, he took up the body of Charlot, and, placing it across a
horse, had it carried to Paris, where he arrived four hours after Huon.

The Abbot of Cluny presented his nephew to Charlemagne, but Huon
refrained from paying his obeisance, complaining grievously of the
ambush which had been set for him, which he said could not have been
without the Emperor's permission. Charlemagne, surprised at a charge
which his magnanimous soul was incapable of meriting, asked eagerly of
the Abbot what were the grounds of the complaints of his nephew. The
Abbot told him faithfully all that had happened, informing him that a
coward knight, who called himself the son of Thierry of Ardennes, had
wounded Girard, and run upon Huon, who was unarmed; but by his force
and valor he had overcome the traitor, and left him dead upon the plain.

Charlemagne indignantly disavowed any connection with the action of the
infamous Thierry, congratulated the young Duke upon his victory,
himself conducted the two brothers to a rich apartment, stayed to see
the first dressing applied to the wound of Girard, and left the
brothers in charge of Duke Namo of Bavaria, who, having been a
companion in arms of the Duke Sevinus, regarded the young men almost as
if they were his own sons.

Charlemagne had hardly quitted them when, returning to his chamber, he
heard cries, and saw through the window a party of armed men just
arrived. He recognized Amaury, who bore a dead knight stretched across
a horse; and the name of Charlot was heard among the exclamations of
the people assembled in the court-yard.

Charles's partiality for this unworthy son was one of his weaknesses.
He descended in trepidation to the court-yard, ran to Amaury, and
uttered a cry of grief on recognizing Charlot. "It is Huon of
Bordeaux," said the traitor Amaury, "who has massacred your son before
it was in my power to defend him." Charlemagne, furious at these words,
seized a sword, and flew to the apartment of the two brothers to plunge
it into the heart of the murderer of his son. Duke Namo stopped his
hand for an instant, while Charles told him the crime of which Huon was
accused. "He is a peer of the realm," said Namo, "and if he is guilty,
is he not here in your power, and are not we peers the proper judges to
condemn him to death? Let not your hand be stained with his blood." The
Emperor, calmed by the wisdom of Duke Namo, summoned Amaury to his
presence. The peers assembled to hear his testimony, and the traitor
accused Huon of Bordeaux of having struck the fatal blow without
allowing Charlot an opportunity to defend himself, and though he knew
that his opponent was the Emperor's eldest son.

The Abbot of Cluny, indignant at the false accusation of Amaury,
advanced, and said, "By Saint Benedict, sire, the traitor lies in his
throat. If my nephew has slain Charlot it was in his own defence, and
after having seen his brother wounded by him, and also in ignorance
that his adversary was the prince. Though I am a son of the Church,"
added the good Abbot, "I forget not that I am a knight by birth. I
offer to prove with my body the lie upon Amaury, if he dares sustain
it, and I shall feel that I am doing a better work to punish a disloyal
traitor, than to sing lauds and matins."

Huon to this time had kept silent, amazed at the black calumny of
Amaury; but now he stepped forth, and, addressing Amaury, said:
"Traitor! darest thou maintain in arms the lie thou hast uttered?"
Amaury, a knight of great prowess, despising the youth and slight
figure of Huon, hesitated not to offer his glove, which Huon seized;
then, turning again to the peers, he said: "I pray you let the combat
be allowed me, for never was there a more legitimate cause." The Duke
Namo and the rest, deciding that the question should be remitted to the
judgment of Heaven, the combat was ordained, to which Charlemagne
unwillingly consented. The young Duke was restored to the charge of
Duke Namo, who the next morning invested him with the honors of
knighthood, and gave him armor of proof, with a white shield. The Abbot
of Cluny, delighted to find in his nephew sentiments worthy of his
birth, embraced him, gave him his blessing, and hastened to the church
of St. Germains to pray for him, while the officers of the king
prepared the lists for the combat.

The battle was long and obstinate. The address and agility of Huon
enabled him to avoid the terrible blows which the ferocious Amaury
aimed at him. But Huon had more than once drawn blood from his
antagonist. The effect began to be perceived in the failing strength of
the traitor; at last he threw himself from his horse, and kneeling,
begged for mercy. "Spare me," he said, "and I will confess all. Aid me
to rise, and lead me to Charlemagne." The brave and loyal Huon, at
these words, put his sword under his left arm, and stretched out his
right to raise the prostrate man, who seized the opportunity to give
him a thrust in the side. The hauberk of Huon resisted the blow, and he
was wounded but slightly. Transported with rage at this act of
baseness, he forgot how necessary for his complete acquittal the
confession of Amaury was, and without delay dealt him the fatal blow.

Duke Namo and the other peers approached, had the body of Amaury
dragged forth from the lists, and conducted Huon to Charlemagne. The
Emperor, however, listening to nothing but his resentment and grief for
the death of his son, refused to be satisfied; and under the plea that
Huon had not succeeded in making his accuser retract his charge seemed
resolved to confiscate his estates and to banish him forever from
France. It was not till after long entreaties on the part of Duke Namo
and the rest that he consented to grant Huon his pardon, under
conditions which he should impose.

Huon approached, and knelt before the Emperor, rendered his homage, and
cried him mercy for the involuntary killing of his son. Charlemagne
would not receive the hands of Huon in his own, but touched him with
his sceptre, saying, "I receive thy homage, and pardon thee the death
of my son, but only on one condition. You shall go immediately to the
court of the Sultan Gaudisso; you shall present yourself before him as
he sits at meat; you shall cut off the head of the most illustrious
guest whom you shall find sitting nearest to him; you shall kiss three
times on the mouth the fair princess, his daughter, and you shall
demand of the Sultan, as token of tribute to me, a handful of the white
hair of his beard, and four grinders from his mouth."

These conditions caused a murmur from all the assembly. "What!" said
the Abbot of Cluny; "slaughter a Saracen prince without first offering
him baptism?" "The second condition is not so hard," said the young
peers, "but the demand that Huon is bound to make of the old Sultan is
very uncivil, and will be hard to obtain."

The Emperor's obstinacy when he had once resolved upon a thing is well
known. To the courage of Huon nothing seemed impossible. "I accept the
conditions," said he, silencing the intercessions of the old Duke of
Bavaria; "my liege, I accept my pardon at this price. I go to execute
your commands, as your vassal and a peer of France."

The Duke Namo and Abbot of Cluny, being unable to obtain any relaxation
of the sentence passed by Charlemagne, led forth the young Duke, who
determined to set out at once on his expedition. All that the good
Abbot could obtain of him was, that he should prepare for this perilous
undertaking by going first to Rome, to pay his homage to the Pope, who
was the brother of the Duchess Alice, Huon's mother, and from him
demand absolution and his blessing. Huon promised it, and forthwith set
out on his way to Rome.



HUON OF BORDEAUX (Continued)

HUON, having traversed the Apennines and Italy, arrived at the environs
of Rome, where, laying aside his armor, he assumed the dress of a
pilgrim. In this attire he presented himself before the Pope, and not
till after he had made a full confession of his sins did he announce
himself as his nephew. "Ah! my dear nephew," exclaimed the Holy Father,
"what harder penance could I impose than the Emperor has already done?
Go in peace, my son," he added, absolving him, "I go to intercede for
you with the Most High." Then he led his nephew into his palace, and
introduced him to all the Cardinals and Princes of Rome as the Duke of
Guienne, son of the Duchess Alice, his sister.

Huon, at setting out, had made a vow not to stop more than three days
in a place. The Holy Father took advantage of this time to inspire him
with zeal for the glory of Christianity, and with confidence in the
protection of the Most High. He advised him to embark for Palestine, to
visit the Holy Sepulchre, and to depart thence for the interior of Asia.

Loaded with the blessings of the Holy Father, Huon, obeying his
counsels, embarked for Palestine, arrived, and visited with the
greatest reverence the holy places. He then departed, and took his way
toward the east.

But, ignorant of the country and of the language, he lost himself in a
forest, and remained three days without seeing a human creature, living
on honey and wild fruits which he found on the trees. The third day,
seeking a passage through a rocky defile, he beheld a man in tattered
clothing, whose beard and hair covered his breast and shoulders. This
man stopped on seeing him, observed him, and recognized the arms and
bearing of a French knight. He immediately approached, and exclaimed,
in the language of the South of France, "God be praised! Do I indeed
behold a chevalier of my own country, after fifteen years passed in
this desert without seeing the face of a fellow-countryman?"

Huon, to gratify him still more, unlaced his helmet, and came towards
him with a smiling countenance. The other regarded him with more
surprise than at first. "Good Heaven!" he exclaimed, "was there ever
such a resemblance? Ah, noble sir," he added, "tell me, I beseech you,
of what country and race you come?" "I require," replied Huon, "before
telling you mine, that you first reveal your own; let it suffice you at
present to know that I am a Christian, and that in Guienne I was born."
"Ah! Heaven grant that my eyes and my heart do not deceive me,"
exclaimed the unknown; "my name is Sherasmin; I am brother to Guire,
the Mayor of Bordeaux. I was taken prisoner in the battle where my dear
and illustrious master, Sevinus, lost his life. For three years I
endured the miseries of slavery; at length I broke my chains and
escaped to this desert, where I have sustained myself in solitude ever
since. Your features recall to me my beloved sovereign, in whose
service I was from my infancy till his death." Huon made no reply but
by embracing the old man, with tears in his eyes. Then Sherasmin
learned that his arms enfolded the son of the Duke Sevinus. He led him
to his cabin, and spread before him the dry fruits and honey which
formed his only aliment.

Huon recounted his adventures to Sherasmin, who was moved to tears at
the recital. He then consulted him on means of conducting his
enterprise. Sherasmin hesitated not to confess that success seemed
impossible; nevertheless he swore a solemn oath never to abandon him.
The Saracen language, which he was master of, would be serviceable to
them when they should leave the desert, and mingle with men.

They took the route of the Red Sea, and entered Arabia. Their way lay
through a region which Sherasmin described as full of terrors. It was
inhabited by Oberon, King of the Fairies, who made captive such knights
as were rash enough to penetrate into it, and transformed them into
Hobgoblins. It was possible to avoid this district at the expense of
somewhat lengthening their route; but no dangers could deter Huon of
Bordeaux; and the brave Sherasmin, who had now resumed the armor of a
knight, reluctantly consented to share with him the dangers of the
shorter route.

They entered a wood, and arrived at a spot whence alleys branched off
in various directions. One of them seemed to be terminated by a superb
palace, whose gilded roofs were adorned with brilliant weathercocks
covered with diamonds. A superb chariot issued from the gate of the
palace, and drove toward Huon and his companion, as if to meet them
half-way. The prince saw no one in the chariot but a child apparently
about five years old, very beautiful, and clad in a robe which
glittered with precious stones. At the sight of him, Sherasmin's terror
was extreme. He seized the reins of Huon's horse, and turned him about,
hurrying the prince away, and assuring him that they were lost if they
stopped to parley with the mischievous dwarf, who, though he appeared a
child, was full of years and of treachery. Huon was sorry to lose sight
of the beautiful dwarf, whose aspect had nothing in it to alarm; yet he
followed his friend, who urged on his horse with all possible speed.
Presently a storm began to roar through the forest, the daylight grew
dim, and they found their way with difficulty. From time to time they
seemed to hear an infantine voice, which said, "Stop, Duke Huon; listen
to me: it is in vain you fly me!"

Sherasmin only fled the faster, and stopped not until he had reached
the gate of a monastery of monks and nuns, the two communities of which
were assembled at that time in a religious procession. Sherasmin,
feeling safe from the malice of the dwarf in the presence of so many
holy persons and the sacred banners, stopped to ask an asylum, and made
Huon dismount also. But at that moment they were joined by the dwarf,
who blew a blast upon an ivory horn which hung from his neck.
Immediately the good Sherasmin, in spite of himself, began to dance
like a young collegian, and seizing the hand of an aged nun, who felt
as if it would be her death, they footed it briskly over the grass, and
were imitated by all the other monks and nuns, mingled together,
forming the strangest dancing-party ever beheld. Huron alone felt no
disposition to dance; but he came near dying of laughter at seeing the
ridiculous postures and leaps of the others.

The dwarf, approaching Huon, said, in a sweet voice, and in Huon's own
language, "Duke of Guienne, why do you shun me? I conjure you, in
Heaven's name, speak to me." Huon, hearing himself addressed in this
serious manner, and knowing that no evil spirit would dare to use the
holy name in aid of his schemes, replied, "Sir, whoever you are, I am
ready to hear and answer you." "Huon, my friend," continued the dwarf,
"I always loved your race, and you have been dear to me ever since your
birth. The gracious state of conscience in which you were when you
entered my wood has protected you from all enchantments, even if I had
intended to practise any upon you. If these monks, these nuns, and even
your friend Sherasmin, had had a conscience as pure as yours, my horn
would not have set them dancing; but where is the monk or the nun who
can always be deaf to the voice of the tempter, and Sherasmin in the
desert has often doubted the power of Providence."

At these words Huon saw the dancers overcome with exertion. He begged
mercy for them, the dwarf granted it, and the effect of the horn ceased
at once; the nuns got rid of their partners, smoothed their dresses,
and hastened to resume their places in the procession. Sherasmin,
overcome with heat, panting, and unable to stand on his legs, threw
himself upon the grass, and began, "Did not I tell you"--He was going
on in an angry tone, but the dwarf, approaching, said, "Sherasmin, why
have you murmured against Providence? Why have you thought evil of me?
You deserved this light punishment; but I know you to be good and
loyal; I mean to show myself your friend, as you shall soon see." At
these words he presented him a rich goblet. "Make the sign of the cross
on this cup," said he, "and then believe that I hold my power from the
God you adore, whose faithful servant I am, as well as you." Sherasmin
obeyed, and on the instant the cup was filled with delicious wine, a
draught of which restored vigor to his limbs, and made him feel young
again. Overcome with gratitude, he threw himself on his knees, but the
dwarf raised him, and bade him sit beside him, and thus commenced his
history:

"Julius Caesar, going by sea to join his army, was driven by a storm to
take shelter in the island of Celea, where dwelt the fairy Glorianda.
From this renowned pair I draw my birth. I am the inheritor of that
which was most admirable in each of my parents: my father's heroic
qualities, and my mother's beauty and magic art. But a malicious sister
of my mother's, in revenge for some slight offence, touched me with her
wand when I was only five years old, and forbade me to grow any bigger;
and my mother, with all her power, was unable to annul the sentence. I
have thus continued infantile in appearance, though full of years and
experience. The power which I derive from my mother I use sometimes for
my own diversion, but always to promote justice and to reward virtue. I
am able and willing to assist you, Duke of Guienne, for I know the
errand on which you come hither. I presage for you, if you follow my
counsels, complete success; and the beautiful Clarimunda for a wife."

When he had thus spoken he presented to Huon the precious and useful
cup, which had the faculty of filling itself when a good man took it in
his hand. He gave him also his beautiful horn of ivory, saying to him,
"Huon, when you sound this gently, you will make the hearers dance, as
you have seen; but if you sound it forcibly, fear not that I shall hear
it, though at a hundred leagues' distance, and will fly to your relief;
but be careful not to sound it in that way, unless upon the most urgent
occasion."

Oberon directed Huon what course he should take to reach the country of
the Sultan Gaudisso. "You will encounter great perils," said he,
"before arriving there, and I fear me," he added, with tears in his
eyes, "that you will not in everything obey my directions, and in that
case you will suffer much calamity." Then he embraced Huon and
Sherasmin, and left them.

Huon and his follower travelled many days through the desert before
they reached any inhabited place, and all this while the wonderful cup
sustained them, furnishing them not only wine, but food also. At last
they came to a great city. As day was declining, they entered its
suburbs, and Sherasmin, who spoke the Saracen language perfectly,
inquired for an inn where they could pass the night. A person who
appeared to be one of the principal inhabitants, seeing two strangers
of respectable appearance making this inquiry, stepped forward and
begged them to accept the shelter of his mansion. They entered, and
their host did the honors of his abode with a politeness which they
were astonished to see in a Saracen. He had them served with coffee and
sherbet, and all was conducted with great decorum, till one of the
servants awkwardly overturned a cup of hot coffee on the host's legs,
when he started up, exclaiming in very good Gascon, "Blood and thunder!
you blockhead, you deserve to be thrown over the mosque!"

Huon could not help laughing to see the vivacity and the language of
his country thus break out unawares. The host, who had no idea that his
guests understood his words, was astonished when Huon addressed him in
the dialect of his country. Immediately confidence was established
between them; especially when the domestics had retired. The host,
seeing that he was discovered, and that the two pretended Saracens were
from the borders of the Garonne, embraced them, and disclosed that he
was a Christian. Huon, who had learned prudence from the advice of
Oberon, to test his host's sincerity, drew from his robe the cup which
the Fairy-king had given him, and presented it empty to the host. "A
fair cup," said he, "but I should like it better if it was full."
Immediately it was so. The host, astonished, dared not put it to his
lips. "Drink boldly, my dear fellow-countryman," said Huon; "your truth
is proved by this cup, which only fills itself in the hands of an
honest man." The host did not hesitate longer; the cup passed freely
from hand to hand; their mutual cordiality increased as it passed, and
each recounted his adventures. Those of Huon redoubled his host's
respect; for he recognized in him his legitimate sovereign: while the
host's narrative was in these words:

"My name is Floriac; this great and strong city, you will hear with
surprise and grief, is governed by a brother of Duke Sevinus, and your
uncle. You have no doubt heard that a young brother of the Duke of
Guienne was stolen away from the sea-shore, with his companions, by
some corsairs. I was then his page, and we were carried by those
corsairs to Barbary, where we were sold for slaves. The Barbary prince
sent us as part of the tribute which he yearly paid to his sovereign,
the Sultan Gaudisso. Your uncle, who had been somewhat puffed up by the
flattery of his attendants, thought to increase his importance with his
new master by telling him his rank. The Sultan, who, like a true
Mussulman, detested all Christian princes, exerted himself from that
moment to bring him over to the Saracen faith. He succeeded but too
well. Your uncle, seduced by the arts of the Santons, and by the
pleasures and indulgences which the Sultan allowed him, committed the
horrid crime of apostasy; he renounced his baptism, and embraced
Mahometanism. Gaudisso then loaded him with honors, made him espouse
one of his nieces, and sent him to reign over this city and adjoining
country. Your uncle preserved for me the same friendship which he had
had when a boy; but all his caresses and efforts could not make me
renounce my faith. Perhaps he respected me in his heart for my
resistance to his persuasions, perhaps he had hopes of inducing me in
time to imitate him. He made me accompany him to this city, of which he
was master, he gave me his confidence, and permits me to keep in my
service some Christians, whom I protect for the sake of their faith."

"Ah!" exclaimed Huon, "take me to this guilty uncle. A prince of the
house of Guienne, must he not blush at the cowardly abandonment of the
faith of his fathers?"

"Alas!" replied Floriac, "I fear he will neither be sensible of shame
at your reproaches, nor of pleasure at the sight of a nephew so worthy
of his lineage. Brutified by sensuality, jealous of his power, which he
often exercises with cruelty, he will more probably restrain you by
force or put you to death."

"Be it so," said the brave and fervent Huon, "I could not die in a
better cause; and I demand of you to conduct me to him to-morrow, after
having told him of my arrival and my birth." Floriac still objected,
but Huon would take no denial, and he promised obedience.

Next morning Floriac waited upon the Governor and told him of the
arrival of his nephew, Huon of Bordeaux; and of the intention of the
prince to present himself at his court that very day. The Governor,
surprised, did not immediately answer; though he at once made up his
mind what to do. He knew that Floriac loved Christians and the princes
of his native land too well to aid in any treason to one of them; he
therefore feigned great pleasure at hearing of the arrival of the
eldest born of his family at his court. He immediately sent Floriac to
find him; he caused his palace to be put in festal array, his divan to
be assembled, and after giving some secret orders, went himself to meet
his nephew, whom he introduced under his proper name and title to all
the great officers of his court.

Huon burned with indignation at seeing his uncle with forehead
encircled with a rich turban, surmounted with a crescent of precious
stones. His natural candor made him receive with pain the embraces
which the treacherous Governor lavished upon him. Meanwhile the hope of
finding a suitable moment to reproach him for his apostasy made him
submit to those honors which his uncle caused to be rendered to him.
The Governor evaded with address the chance of being alone with Huon
and spent all the morning in taking him through his gardens and palace.
At last, when the hour of dinner approached, and the Governor took him
by the hand to lead him into the dining-hall, Huon seized the
opportunity and said to him in a low voice, "O my uncle! O Prince,
brother of the Duke Sevinus! in what condition have I the grief and
shame of seeing you!" The Governor pretended to be moved, pressed his
hand, and whispered in his ear, "Silence! my dear nephew; to-morrow
morning I will hear you fully."

Huon, comforted a little by these words, took his seat at the table by
the side of the Governor. The Mufti, some Cadis, Agas, and Santons,
filled the other places. Sherasmin sat down with them; but Floriac, who
would not lose sight of his guests, remained standing, and passed in
and out to observe what was going on within the palace. He soon
perceived a number of armed men gliding through the passages and
antechambers connected with the dining-hall. He was about to enter to
give his guests notice of what he had seen when he heard a violent
noise and commotion in the hall. The cause was this.

Huon and Sherasmin were well enough suited with the first course and
ate with good appetite; but the people of their country not being
accustomed to drink only water at their meals, Huon and Sherasmin
looked at one another, not very well pleased at such a regimen. Huon
laughed outright at the impatience of Sherasmin, but soon, experiencing
the same want himself, he drew forth Oberon's cup and made the sign of
the cross. The cup filled and he drank it off, and handed it to
Sherasmin, who followed his example. The Governor and his officers,
seeing this abhorred sign, contracted their brows and sat in silent
consternation. Huon pretended not to observe it, and having filled the
cup again handed it to his uncle, saying, "Pray, join us, dear uncle;
it is excellent Bordeaux wine, the drink that will be to you like
mother's milk." The Governor, who often drank in secret with his own
favorite Sultanas the wines of Greece and Shiraz, never in public drank
anything but water. He had not for a long time tasted the excellent
wines of his native land; he was sorely tempted to drink what was now
handed to him, it looked so bright in the cup, outshining the gold
itself. He stretched forth his hand, took the brimming goblet, and
raised it to his lips, when immediately it dried up and disappeared.
Huon and Sherasmin, like Gascons as they were, laughed at his
astonishment. "Christian dogs!" he exclaimed, "do you dare to insult me
at my own table? But I will soon be revenged." At these words he threw
the cup at the head of his nephew, who caught it with his left hand,
while with the other he snatched the turban, with its crescent, from
the Governor's head and threw it on the floor. All the Saracens started
up from table, with loud outcries, and prepared to avenge the insult.
Huon and Sherasmin put themselves on their defence, and met with their
swords the scimitars directed against them. At this moment the doors of
the hall opened and a crowd of soldiers and armed eunuchs rushed in,
who joined in the attack upon Huon and Sherasmin. The Prince and his
followers took refuge on a broad shelf or side-board, where they kept
at bay the crowd of assailants, making the most forward of them smart
for their audacity. But more troops came pressing in and the brave
Huon, inspired by the wine of Bordeaux, and not angry enough to lose
his relish for a joke, blew a gentle note on his horn, and no sooner
was it heard than it quelled the rage of the combatants and set them to
dancing. Huon and Sherasmin, no longer attacked, looked down from their
elevated position on a scene the most singular and amusing. Very soon
the Sultanas, hearing the sound of the dance and finding their guards
withdrawn, came into the hall and mixed with the dancers. The favorite
Sultana seized upon a young Santon, who performed jumps two feet high;
but soon the long dresses of this couple got intermingled and threw
them down. The Santon's beard was caught in the Sultana's necklace, and
they could not disentangle them. The Governor by no means approved this
familiarity, and took two steps forward to get at the Santon, but he
stumbled over a prostrate Dervise and measured his length on the floor.
The dancing continued till the strength of the performers was
exhausted, and they fell, one after the other, and lay helpless. The
Governor at length made signs to Huon that he would yield everything if
he would but allow him to rest. The bargain was ratified; the Governor
allowed Huon and Sherasmin to depart on their way, and even gave them a
ring which would procure them safe passage through his country and
access to the Sultan Gaudisso. The two friends hastened to avail
themselves of this favorable turn, and taking leave of Floriac, pursued
their journey.



HUON OF BORDEAUX (Continued)

HUON had seen many beauties at his mother's court, but his heart had
never been touched with love. Honor had been his mistress, and in
pursuit of that he had never found time to give a thought to softer
cares. Strange that a heart so insensible should first be touched by
something so unsubstantial as a dream; but so it was.

The day after the adventure with his uncle night overtook the
travellers as they passed through a forest. A grotto offered them
shelter from the night dews. The magic cup supplied their evening meal;
for such was its virtue that it afforded not only wine, but more solid
fare when desired. Fatigue soon threw them into profound repose. Lulled
by the murmur of the foliage, and breathing the fragrance of the
flowers, Huon dreamed that a lady more beautiful than he had ever
before seen hung over him and imprinted a kiss upon his lips. As he
stretched out his arms to embrace her a sudden gust of wind swept her
away.

Huon awoke in an agony of regret. A few moments sufficed to afford some
consolation in showing him that what had passed was but a dream; but
his perplexity and sadness could not escape the notice of Sherasmin.
Huon hesitated not to inform his faithful follower of the reason of his
pensiveness; and got nothing in return but his rallyings for allowing
himself to be disturbed by such a cause. He recommended a draught from
the fairy goblet, and Huon tried it with good effect.

At early dawn they resumed their way. They travelled till high noon,
but said little to one another. Huon was musing on his dream, and
Sherasmin's thoughts flew back to his early days on the banks of the
flowery Garonne.

On a sudden they were startled by the cry of distress, and turning an
angle of the wood, came where a knight hard pressed was fighting with a
furious lion. The knight's horse lay dead, and it seemed as if another
moment would end the combat, for terror and fatigue had quite disabled
the knight for further resistance. He fell, and the lion's paw was
raised over him, when a blow from Huon's sword turned the monster's
rage upon a new enemy. His roar shook the forest, and he crouched in
act to spring, when, with the rapidity of lightning, Huon plunged his
sword into his side. He rolled over on the plain in the agonies of
death.

They raised the knight from the ground, and Sherasmin hastened to offer
him a draught from the fairy cup. The wine sparkled to the brim, and
the warrior put forth his lips to quaff it, but it shrunk away, and did
not even wet his lips. He dashed the goblet angrily on the ground, with
an exclamation of resentment. This incident did not tend to make either
party more acceptable to the other; and what followed was worse. For
when Huon said, "Sir knight, thank God for your deliverance,"--"Thank
Mahomet, rather, yourself," said he, "for he has led you this day to
render service to no less a personage than the Prince of Hyrcania."

At the sound of this blasphemy Huon drew his sword and turned upon the
miscreant, who, little disposed to encounter the prowess of which he
had so lately seen proof, betook himself to flight. He ran to Huon's
horse, and lightly vaulting on his back, clapped spurs to his side, and
galloped out of sight.

The adventure was vexatious, yet there was no remedy. The prince and
Sherasmin continued their journey with the aid of the remaining horse
as they best might. At length, as evening set in, they descried the
pinnacles and towers of a great city full before them, which they knew
to be the famous city of Bagdad.

They were well-nigh exhausted with fatigue when they arrived at its
precincts, and in the darkness, not knowing what course to take, were
glad to meet an aged woman, who, in reply to their inquiries, offered
them such accommodations as her cottage could supply. They thankfully
accepted the offer, and entered the low door. The good dame busily
prepared the best fare her stores supplied,--milk, figs, and
peaches,--deeply regretting that the bleak winds had nipped her
almond-trees.

Sir Huon thought he had never in his life tasted any fare so good. The
old lady talked while her guests ate. She doubted not, she said, they
had come to be present at the great feast in honor of the marriage of
the Sultan's daughter, which was to take place on the morrow. They
asked who the bridegroom was to be, and the old lady answered, "The
Prince of Hyrcania," but added, "Our princess hates him, and would
rather wed a dragon than him." "How know you that?" asked Huon; and the
dame informed him that she had it from the princess herself, who was
her foster-child. Huon inquired the reason of the princess's aversion;
and the woman pleased to find her chat excite so much interest, replied
that it was all in consequence of a dream. "A dream!" exclaimed Huon.
"Yes! a dream. She dreamed that she was a hind, and that the Prince, as
a hunter, was pursuing her, and had almost overtaken her, when a
beautiful dwarf appeared in view, drawn in a golden car, having by his
side a young man of yellow hair and fair complexion, like one from a
foreign land. She dreamed that the car stopped where she stood, and
that, having resumed her own form, she was about to ascend it, when
suddenly it faded from her view, and with it the dwarf and the
fair-haired youth. But from her heart that vision did not fade, and
from that time her affianced bridegroom, the Hyrcanian prince, had
become odious to her sight. Yet the Sultan, her father, by no means
regarding such a cause as sufficient to prevent the marriage, had named
the morrow as the time when it should be solemnized, in presence of his
court and many princes of the neighboring countries, whom the fame of
the princess's beauty and the bridegroom's splendor had brought to the
scene."

We may suppose this conversation woke a tumult of thoughts in the
breast of Huon. Was it not clear that Providence led him on, and
cleared the way for his happy success? Sleep did not early visit the
eyes of Huon that night; but, with the sanguine temper of youth, he
indulged his fancy in imagining the sequel of his strange experience.

The next day, which he could not but regard as the decisive day of his
fate, he prepared to deliver the message of Charlemagne. Clad in his
armor, fortified with his ivory horn and his ring, he reached the
palace of Gaudisso when the guests were assembled at the banquet. As he
approached the gate a voice called on all true believers to enter; and
Huon, the brave and faithful Huon, in his impatience passed in under
that false pretention. He had no sooner passed the barrier than he felt
ashamed of his baseness, and was overwhelmed with regret. To make
amends for his fault he ran forward to the second gate, and cried to
the porter, "Dog of a misbeliever, I command you in the name of Him who
died on the cross, open to me!" The points of a hundred weapons
immediately opposed his passage. Huon then remembered for the first
time the ring he had received from his uncle, the Governor. He produced
it, and demanded to be led to the Sultan's presence. The officer of the
guard recognized the ring, made a respectful obeisance, and allowed him
free entrance. In the same way he passed the other doors to the rich
saloon where the great Sultan was at dinner with his tributary princes.
At sight of the ring the chief attendant led Huon to the head of the
hall, and introduced him to the Sultan and his princes as the
ambassador of Charlemagne. A seat was provided for him near the royal
party.

The Prince of Hyrcania, the same whom Huon had rescued from the lion,
and who was the destined bridegroom of the beautiful Clarimunda, sat on
the Sultan's right hand, and the princess herself on his left. It
chanced that Huon found himself near the seat of the princess, and
hardly were the ceremonies of reception over before he made haste to
fulfill the commands of Charlemagne by imprinting a kiss upon her rosy
lips, and after that a second, not by command, but by good will. The
Prince of Hyrcania cried out, "Audacious infidel! take the reward of
thy insolence!" and aimed a blow at Huon, which, if it had reached him,
would have brought his embassy to a speedy termination. But the ingrate
failed of his aim, and Huon punished his blasphemy and ingratitude at
once by a blow which severed his head from his body.

So suddenly had all this happened that no hand had been raised to
arrest it; but now Gaudisso cried out, "Seize the murderer!" Huon was
hemmed in on all sides, but his redoubtable sword kept the crowd of
courtiers at bay. But he saw new combatants enter, and could not hope
to maintain his ground against so many. He recollected his horn, and
raising it to his lips, blew a blast almost as loud as that of Roland
at Roncesvalles. It was in vain. Oberon heard it; but the sin of which
Huon had been guilty in bearing, though but for a moment, the character
of a believer in the false prophet, had put it out of Oberon's power to
help him. Huon, finding himself deserted, and conscious of the cause,
lost his strength and energy, was seized, loaded with chains, and
plunged into a dungeon.

His life was spared for the time, merely that he might be reserved for
a more painful death. The Sultan meant that, after being made to feel
all the torments of hunger and despair, he should be flayed alive.

But an enchanter more ancient and more powerful than Oberon himself
interested himself for the brave Huon. The enchanter was Love. The
Princess Clarimunda learned with horror the fate to which the young
prince was destined. By the aid of her governante she gained over the
keeper of the prison, and went herself to lighten the chains of her
beloved. It was her hand that removed his fetters, from her he received
supplies of food to sustain a life which he devoted from thenceforth
wholly to her. After the most tender explanations the princess
departed, promising to repeat her visit on the morrow.

The next day she came according to promise, and again brought supplies
of food. These visits were continued during a whole month. Huon was too
good a son of the Church to forget that the amiable princess was a
Saracen, and he availed himself of these interviews to instruct her in
the true faith. How easy it is to believe the truth when uttered by the
lips of those we love! Clarimunda ere long professed her entire belief
in the Christian doctrines, and desired to be baptized.

Meanwhile the Sultan had repeatedly inquired of the jailer how his
prisoner bore the pains of famine, and learned to his surprise that he
was not yet much reduced thereby. On his repeating the inquiry, after a
short interval, the keeper replied that the prisoner had died suddenly,
and had been buried in the cavern. The Sultan could only regret that he
had not sooner ordered the execution of the sentence.

While these things were going on the faithful Sherasmin, who had not
accompanied Huon in his last adventure, but had learned by common rumor
the result of it, came to the court in hopes of doing something for the
rescue of his master. He presented himself to the Sultan as Solario,
his nephew. Guadisso received him with kindness, and all the courtiers
loaded him with attentions. He soon found means to inform himself how
the Princess regarded the brave but unfortunate Huon, and having made
himself known to her, confidence was soon established between them.
Clarimunda readily consented to assist in the escape of Huon, and to
quit with him her father's court to repair to that of Charlemagne.
Their united efforts had nearly perfected their arrangement, a vessel
was secretly prepared, and all things in forwardness for the flight,
when an unlooked-for obstacle presented itself. Huon himself positively
refused to go leaving the orders of Charlemagne unexecuted.

Sherasmin was in despair. Bitterly he complained of the fickleness and
cruelty of Oberon in withdrawing his aid at the very crisis when it was
most necessary. Earnestly he urged every argument to satisfy the prince
that he had done enough for honor, and could not be held bound to
achieve impossibilities. But all was of no avail, and he knew not which
way to turn, when one of those events occurred which are so frequent
under Turkish despotisms. A courier arrived at the court of the Sultan,
bearing the ring of his sovereign, the mighty Agrapard, Caliph of
Arabia, and bringing the bow-string for the neck of Gaudisso. No reason
was assigned; none but the pleasure of the Caliph is ever required in
such cases; but it was suspected that the bearer of the bow-string had
persuaded the Caliph that Gaudisso, whose rapacity was well known, had
accumulated immense treasures, which he had not duly shared with his
sovereign, and thus had obtained an order to supersede him in his
Emirship.

The body of Gaudisso would have been cast out a prey to dogs and
vultures, had not Sherasmin, under the character of nephew of the
deceased, been permitted to receive it, and give it decent burial,
which he did, but not till he had taken possession of the beard and
grinders, agreeably to the orders of Charlemagne.

No obstacle now stood in the way of the lovers and their faithful
follower in returning to France. They sailed, taking Rome in their way,
where the Holy Father himself blessed the union of his nephew, Duke
Huon of Bordeaux, with the Princess Clarimunda.

Soon afterward they arrived in France, where Huon laid his trophies at
the feet of Charlemagne, and, being restored to the favor of the
Emperor, hastened to present himself and his bride to the Duchess, his
mother, and to the faithful liegemen of his province of Guienne and his
city of Bordeaux, where the pair were received with transports of joy.



OGIER, THE DANE

OGIER, the Dane, was the son of Geoffrey, who wrested Denmark from the
Pagans, and reigned the first Christian king of that country. When
Ogier was born, and before he was baptized, six ladies of ravishing
beauty appeared all at once in the chamber of the infant. They
encircled him, and she who appeared the eldest took him in her arms,
kissed him, and laid her hand upon his heart. "I give you," said she,
"to be the bravest warrior of your times." She delivered the infant to
her sister, who said, "I give you abundant opportunities to display
your valor." "Sister," said the third lady, "you have given him a
dangerous boon; I give him that he shall never be vanquished." The
fourth sister added, as she laid her hand upon his eyes and his mouth,
"I give you the gift of pleasing." The fifth said, "Lest all these
gifts serve only to betray, I give you sensibility to return the love
you inspire." Then spoke Morgana, the youngest and handsomest of the
group. "Charming creature, I claim you for my own; and I give you not
to die till you shall have come to pay me a visit in my isle of
Avalon." Then she kissed the child and departed with her sisters.

After this the king had the child carried to the font and baptized with
the name of Ogier.

In his education nothing was neglected to elevate him to the standard
of a perfect knight, and render him accomplished in all the arts
necessary to make him a hero.

He had hardly reached the age of sixteen years when Charlemagne, whose
power was established over all the sovereigns of his time, recollected
that Geoffroy, Ogier's father, had omitted to render the homage due to
him as Emperor, and sovereign lord of Denmark, one of the grand fiefs
of the empire. He accordingly sent an embassy to demand of the king of
Denmark this homage, and on receiving a refusal, couched in haughty
terms, sent an army to enforce the demand. Geoffroy, after an
unsuccessful resistance, was forced to comply, and as a pledge of his
sincerity delivered Ogier, his eldest son, a hostage to Charles, to be
brought up at his court. He was placed in charge of the Duke Namo of
Bavaria, the friend of his father, who treated him like his own son.

Ogier grew up more and more handsome and amiable every day. He
surpassed in form, strength, and address all the noble youths his
companions; he failed not to be present at all tourneys; he was
attentive to the elder knights, and burned with impatience to imitate
them. Yet his heart rose sometimes in secret against his condition as a
hostage, and as one apparently forgotten by his father.

The King of Denmark, in fact, was at this time occupied with new loves.
Ogier's mother having died, he had married a second wife, and had a son
named Guyon. The new queen had absolute power over her husband, and
fearing that, if he should see Ogier again, he would give him the
preference over Guyon, she had adroitly persuaded him to delay
rendering his homage to Charlemagne, till now four years had passed
away since the last renewal of that ceremony. Charlemagne, irritated at
this delinquency, drew closer the bonds of Ogier's captivity until he
should receive a response from the king of Denmark to a fresh summons
which he caused to be sent to him.

The answer of Geoffroy was insulting and defiant, and the rage of
Charlemagne was roused in the highest degree. He was at first disposed
to wreak his vengeance upon Ogier, his hostage; but at the entreaties
of Duke Namo, who felt towards his pupil like a father, consented to
spare his life, if Ogier would swear fidelity to him as his liege-lord,
and promise not to quit his court without his permission. Ogier
accepted these terms, and was allowed to retain all the freedom he had
before enjoyed.

The Emperor would have immediately taken arms to reduce his disobedient
vassal, if he had not been called off in another direction by a message
from Pope Leo, imploring his assistance. The Saracens had landed in the
neighborhood of Rome, occupied Mount Janiculum, and prepared to pass
the Tiber and carry fire and sword to the capital of the Christian
world. Charlemagne hesitated not to yield to the entreaties of the
Pope. He speedily assembled an army, crossed the Alps, traversed Italy,
and arrived at Spoleto, a strong place to which the Pope had retired.
Leo, at the head of his Cardinals, advanced to meet him, and rendered
him homage, as to the son of Pepin, the illustrious protector of the
Holy See, coming, as his father had done, to defend it in the hour of
need.

Charlemagne stopped but two days at Spoleto, and learning that the
Infidels, having rendered themselves masters of Rome, were besieging
the Capitol, which could not long hold out against them, marched
promptly to attack them.

The advanced posts of the army were commanded by Duke Namo, on whom
Ogier waited as his squire. He did not yet bear arms, not having
received the order of knighthood. The Oriflamme, the royal standard,
was borne by a knight named Alory, who showed himself unworthy of the
honor.

Duke Namo, seeing a strong body of the Infidels advancing to attack
him, gave the word to charge them. Ogier remained in the rear, with the
other youths, grieving much that he was not permitted to fight. Very
soon he saw Alory lower the Oriflamme, and turn his horse in flight.
Ogier pointed him out to the young men, and seizing a club, rushed upon
Alory and struck him from his horse. Then, with his companions, he
disarmed him, clothed himself in his armor, raised the Oriflamme, and
mounting the horse of the unworthy knight, flew to the front rank,
where he joined Duke Namo, drove back the Infidels, and carried the
Oriflamme quite through their broken ranks. The Duke, thinking it was
Alory, whom he had not held in high esteem, was astonished at his
strength and valor. Ogier's young companions imitated him, supplying
themselves with armor from the bodies of the slain; they followed Ogier
and carried death into the ranks of the Saracens, who fell back in
confusion upon their main body.

Duke Namo now ordered a retreat, and Ogier obeyed with reluctance, when
they perceived Charlemagne advancing to their assistance. The combat
now became general, and was more terrible than ever. Charlemagne had
overthrown Corsuble, the commander of the Saracens, and had drawn his
famous sword, Joyeuse, to cut off his head, when two Saracen knights
set upon him at once, one of whom slew his horse, and the other
overthrew the Emperor on the sand. Perceiving by the eagle on his
casque who he was, they dismounted in haste to give him his deathblow.
Never was the life of the Emperor in such peril. But Ogier, who saw him
fall, flew to his rescue. Though embarrassed with the Oriflamme, he
pushed his horse against one of the Saracens and knocked him down; and
with his sword dealt the other so vigorous a blow that he fell stunned
to the earth. Then helping the Emperor to rise, he remounted him on the
horse of one of the fallen knights. "Brave and generous Alory!" Charles
exclaimed, "I owe to you my honor and my life!" Ogier made no answer;
but, leaving Charlemagne surrounded by a great many of the knights who
had flown to his succor, he plunged into the thickest ranks of the
enemy, and carried the Oriflamme, followed by a gallant train of
youthful warriors, till the standard of Mahomet turned in retreat, and
the Infidels sought safety in their intrenchments.

Then the good Archbishop Turpin laid aside his helmet and his bloody
sword (for he always felt that he was clearly in the line of his duty
while slaying Infidels), took his mitre and his crosier, and intoned Te
Deum.

At this moment Ogier, covered with blood and dust, came to lay the
Oriflamme at the feet of the Emperor. He was followed by a train of
warriors of short stature, who walked ill at ease loaded with armor too
heavy for them. Ogier knelt at the feet of Charlemagne, who embraced
him, calling him Alory, while Turpin from the height of the altar,
blessed him with all his might. Then young Orlando, son of the Count
Milone, and nephew of Charlemagne, no longer able to endure this
misapprehension, threw down his helmet, and ran to unlace Ogier's,
while the other young men laid aside theirs. Our author says he cannot
express the surprise, the admiration, and the tenderness of the Emperor
and his peers. Charles folded Ogier in his arms, and the happy fathers
of those brave youths embraced them with tears of joy. The good Duke
Namo stepped forward, and Charlemagne yielded Ogier to his embrace.
"How much do I owe you," he said, "good and wise friend, for having
restrained my anger! My dear Ogier! I owe you my life! My sword leaps
to touch your shoulder, yours and those of your brave young friends."
At these words he drew that famous sword, Joyeuse, and while Ogier and
the rest knelt before him, gave them the accolade conferring on them
the order of knighthood. The young Orlando and his cousin Oliver could
not refrain, even in the presence of the Emperor, from falling upon
Ogier's neck, and pledging with him that brotherhood in arms, so dear
and so sacred to the knights of old times; but Charlot, the Emperor's
son, at the sight of the glory with which Ogier had covered himself,
conceived the blackest jealousy and hate.

The rest of the day and the next were spent in the rejoicings of the
army. Turpin in a solemn service implored the favor of Heaven upon the
youthful knights, and blessed the white armor which was prepared for
them. Duke Namo presented them with golden spurs, Charles himself
girded on their swords. But what was his astonishment when he examined
that intended for Ogier! The loving Fairy, Morgana, had had the art to
change it, and to substitute one of her own procuring, and when Charles
drew it out of the scabbard, these words appeared written on the steel:
"My name is Cortana, of the same steel and temper as Joyeuse and
Durindana." Charles saw that a superior power watched over the
destinies of Ogier; he vowed to love him as a father would, and Ogier
promised him the devotion of a son. Happy had it been for both if they
had always continued mindful of their promises.

The Saracen army had hardly recovered from its dismay when Carahue,
King of Mauritania, who was one of the knights overthrown by Ogier at
the time of the rescue of Charlemagne, determined to challenge him to
single combat. With that view he assumed the dress of a herald,
resolved to carry his own message. The French knights admired his air,
and said to one another that he seemed more fit to be a knight than a
bearer of messages.

Carahue began by passing the warmest eulogium upon the knight who bore
the Oriflamme on the day of the battle, and concluded by saying that
Carahue, King of Mauritania, respected that knight so much that he
challenged him to the combat.

Ogier had risen to reply, when he was interrupted by Charlot, who said
that the gage of the King of Mauritania could not fitly be received by
a vassal, living in captivity; by which he meant Ogier, who was at that
time serving as hostage for his father. Fire flashed from the eyes of
Ogier, but the presence of the Emperor restrained his speech, and he
was calmed by the kind looks of Charlemagne, who said, with an angry
voice, "Silence, Charlot! By the life of Bertha, my queen, he who has
saved my life is as dear to me as yourself. Ogier," he continued, "you
are no longer a hostage. Herald! report my answer to your master, that
never does knight of my court refuse a challenge on equal terms. Ogier,
the Dane, accepts of his, and I myself am his security."

Carahue, profoundly bowing, replied, "My lord, I was sure that the
sentiments of so great a sovereign as yourself would be worthy of your
high and brilliant fame; I shall report your answer to my master, who I
know admires you, and unwillingly takes arms against you." Then,
turning to Charlot, whom he did not know as the son of the Emperor, he
continued, "As for you, Sir Knight, if the desire of battle inflames
you, I have it in charge from Sadon, cousin of the King of Mauritania,
to give the like defiance to any French knights who will grant him the
honor of the combat."

Charlot, inflamed with rage and vexation at the public reproof which he
had just received, hesitated not to deliver his gage. Carahue received
it with Ogier's, and it was agreed that the combat should be on the
next day in a meadow environed by woods and equally distant from both
armies.

The perfidious Charlot meditated the blackest treason. During the night
he collected some knights unworthy of the name, and like himself in
their ferocious manners; he made them swear to avenge his injuries,
armed them in black armor, and sent them to lie in ambush in the wood,
with orders to make a pretended attack upon the whole party, but in
fact, to lay heavy hands upon Ogier and the two Saracens.

At the dawn of day Sadon and Carahue, attended only by two pages to
carry their spears, took their way to the appointed meadow; and Charlot
and Ogier repaired thither also, but by different paths. Ogier advanced
with a calm air, saluted courteously the two Saracen knights, and
joined them in arranging the terms of combat.

While this was going on the perfidious Charlot remained behind and gave
his men the signal to advance. That cowardly troop issued from the wood
and encompassed the three knights. All three were equally surprised at
the attack, but neither of them suspected the other to have any hand in
the treason. Seeing the attack made equally upon them all, they united
their efforts to resist it, and made the most forward of the assailants
bite the dust. Cortana fell on no one without inflicting a mortal
wound, but the sword of Carahue was not of equal temper and broke in
his hands. At the same instant his horse was slain, and Carahue fell,
without a weapon, and entangled with his prostrate horse. Ogier, who
saw it, ran to his defence, and leaping to the ground covered the
prince with his shield, supplied him with the sword of one of the
fallen ruffians, and would have him mount his own horse. At that moment
Charlot, inflamed with rage, pushed his horse upon Ogier, knocked him
down, and would have run him through with his lance if Sadon, who saw
the treason, had not sprung upon him and thrust him back. Carahue leapt
lightly upon the horse which Ogier presented him, and had time only to
exclaim, "Brave Ogier, I am no longer your enemy, I pledge to you an
eternal friendship," when numerous Saracen knights were seen
approaching, having discovered the treachery, and Charlot with his
followers took refuge in the wood.

The troop which advanced was commanded by Dannemont, the exiled king of
Denmark, whom Geoffroy, Ogier's father, had driven from his throne and
compelled to take refuge with the Saracens. Learning who Ogier was, he
instantly declared him his prisoner, in spite of the urgent
remonstrances and even threats of Carahue and Sadon, and carried him
under a strong guard to the Saracen camp. Here he was at first
subjected to the most rigorous captivity, but Carahue and Sadon
insisted so vehemently on his release, threatening to turn their arms
against their own party if it was not granted, while Dannemont as
eagerly opposed the measure, that Corsuble, the Saracen commander,
consented to a middle course, and allowed Ogier the freedom of his
camp, upon his promise not to leave it without permission.

Carahue was not satisfied with this partial concession. He left the
city next morning, proceeded to the camp of Charlemagne, and demanded
to be led to the Emperor. When he reached his presence he dismounted
from his horse, took off his helmet, drew his sword, and holding it by
the blade presented it to Charlemagne as he knelt before him.

"Illustrious prince," he said, "behold before you the herald who
brought the challenge to your knights from the King of Mauritania. The
cowardly old King Dannemont has made the brave Ogier prisoner, and has
prevailed on our general to refuse to give him up. I come to make
amends for this ungenerous conduct by yielding myself, Carahue, King of
Mauritania, your prisoner."

Charlemagne, with all his peers, admired the magnanimity of Carahue; he
raised him, embraced him, and restored to him his sword. "Prince," said
he, "your presence and the bright example you afford my knights
consoles me for the loss of Ogier. Would to God you might receive our
holy faith, and be wholly united with us." All the lords of the court,
led by Duke Namo, paid their respects to the King of Mauritania.
Charlot only failed to appear, fearing to be recognized as a traitor;
but the heart of Carahue was too noble to pierce that of Charlemagne by
telling him the treachery of his son.

Meanwhile the Saracen army was rent by discord. The troops of Carahue
clamored against the commander-in-chief because their king was left in
captivity. They even threatened to desert the cause and turn their arms
against their allies. Charlemagne pressed the siege vigorously, till at
length the Saracen leaders found themselves compelled to abandon the
city and betake themselves to their ships. A truce was made; Ogier was
exchanged for Carahue, and the two friends embraced one another with
vows of perpetual brotherhood. The Pope was reestablished in his
dominions, and Italy being tranquil, Charlemagne returned with his
peers and their followers to France.



OGIER, THE DANE (Continued)

CHARLEMAGNE had not forgotten the offence of Geoffroy, the King of
Denmark, in withholding homage, and now prepared to enforce submission.
But at this crisis he was waited upon by an embassy from Geoffroy,
acknowledging his fault, and craving assistance against an army of
invaders who had attacked his states with a force which he was unable
to repel. The soul of Charlemagne was too great to be implacable, and
he took this opportunity to test that of Ogier, who had felt acutely
the unkindness of his father, in leaving him, without regard or notice,
fifteen years in captivity. Charles asked Ogier whether, in spite of
his father's neglect, he was disposed to lead an army to his
assistance. He replied, "A son can never be excused from helping his
father by any cause short of death." Charlemagne placed an army of a
thousand knights under the command of Ogier, and great numbers more
volunteered to march under so distinguished a leader. He flew to the
succor of his father, repelled the invaders, and drove them in
confusion to their vessels. Ogier then hastened to the capital, but as
he drew near the city he heard all the bells sounding a knell. He soon
learned the cause; it was the obsequies of Geoffroy, the King. Ogier
felt keenly the grief of not having been permitted to embrace his
father once more, and to learn his latest commands; but he found that
his father had declared him heir to his throne. He hastened to the
church where the body lay; he knelt and bathed the lifeless form with
his tears. At that moment a celestial light beamed all around, and a
voice of an angel said, "Ogier, leave thy crown to Guyon, thy brother,
and bear no other title than that of 'The Dane.' Thy destiny is
glorious, and other kingdoms are reserved for thee." Ogier obeyed the
divine behest. He saluted his stepmother respectfully, and embracing
his brother, told him that he was content with his lot in being
reckoned among the paladins of Charlemagne, and resigned all claims to
the crown of Denmark.

Ogier returned covered with glory to the court of Charlemagne, and the
Emperor, touched with this proof of his attachment, loaded him with
caresses, and treated him almost as an equal.

We pass in silence the adventures of Ogier for several ensuing years,
in which the fairy-gifts of his infancy showed their force in making
him successful in all enterprises, both of love and war. He married the
charming Belicene, and became the father of young Baldwin, a youth who
seemed to inherit in full measure the strength and courage of his
father and the beauty of his mother. When the lad was old enough to be
separated from his mother, Ogier took him to court and presented him to
Charlemagne, who embraced him and took him into his service. It seemed
to Duke Namo, and all the elder knights, as if they saw in him Ogier
himself, as he was when a youth; and this resemblance won for the lad
their kind regards. Even Charlot at first seemed to be fond of him,
though after a while the resemblance to Ogier which he noticed had the
effect to excite his hatred.

Baldwin was attentive to Charlot, and lost no occasion to be
serviceable. The Prince loved to play chess, and Baldwin, who played
well, often made a party with him.

One day Charlot was nettled at losing two pieces in succession; he
thought he could, by taking a piece from Baldwin, get some amends for
his loss; but Baldwin, seeing him fall into a trap which he had set for
him, could not help a slight laugh, as he said, "Check-mate." Charlot
rose in a fury, seized the rich and heavy chess-board, and dashed it
with all his strength on the head of Baldwin, who fell, and died where
he fell.

Frightened at his own crime, and fearing the vengeance of the terrible
Ogier, Charlot concealed himself in the interior of the palace. A young
companion of Baldwin hastened and informed Ogier of the event. He ran
to the chamber, and beheld the body of his child bathed in blood, and
it could not be concealed from him that Charlot gave the blow.
Transported with rage, Ogier sought Charlot through the palace, and
Charlot, feeling safe nowhere else, took refuge in the hall of
Charlemagne, where he seated himself at table with Duke Namo and
Salomon, Duke of Brittany. Ogier, with sword drawn, followed him to the
very table of the Emperor. When a cupbearer attempted to bar his way he
struck the cup from his hand and dashed the contents in the Emperor's
face. Charles rose in a passion, seized a knife, and would have plunged
it into his breast, had not Salomon and another baron thrown themselves
between, while Namo, who had retained his ancient influence over Ogier,
drew him out of the room. Foreseeing the consequence of this violence,
pitying Ogier, and in his heart excusing him, Namo hurried him away
before the guards of the palace could arrest him, made him mount his
horse, and leave Paris.

Charlemagne called together his peers, and made them take an oath to do
all in their power to arrest Ogier, and bring him to condign
punishment. Ogier on his part sent messages to the Emperor, offering to
give himself up on condition that Charlot should be punished for his
atrocious crime. The Emperor would listen to no conditions, and went in
pursuit of Ogier at the head of a large body of soldiers. Ogier, on the
other hand, was warmly supported by many knights, who pledged
themselves in his defence. The contest raged long, with no decisive
results. Ogier more than once had the Emperor in his power, but
declined to avail himself of his advantage, and released him without
conditions. He even implored pardon for himself, but demanded at the
same time the punishment of Charlot. But Charlemagne was too blindly
fond of his unworthy son to subject him to punishment for the sake of
conciliating one who had been so deeply injured.

At length, distressed at the blood which his friends had lost in his
cause, Ogier dismissed his little army, and slipping away from those
who wished to attend him, took his course to rejoin the Duke Guyon, his
brother. On his way, having reached the forest of Ardennes, weary with
long travel, the freshness of a retired valley tempted him to lie down
to take some repose. He unsaddled Beiffror, relieved himself of his
helmet, lay down on the turf, rested his head on his shield, and slept.

It so happened that Turpin, who occasionally recalled to mind that he
was Archbishop of Rheins, was at that time in the vicinity, making a
pastoral visit to the churches under his jurisdiction. But his dignity
of peer of France, and his martial spirit, which caused him to be
reckoned among the "preux chevaliers" of his time, forbade him to
travel without as large a retinue of knights as he had of clergymen.
One of these was thirsty, and knowing the fountain on the borders of
which Ogier was reposing, he rode to it, and was struck by the sight of
a knight stretched on the ground. He hastened back, and let the
Archbishop know, who approached the fountain, and recognized Ogier.

The first impulse of the good and generous Turpin was to save his
friend, for whom he felt the warmest attachment; but his archdeacons
and knights, who also recognized Ogier, reminded the Archbishop of the
oath which the Emperor had exacted of them all. Turpin could not be
false to his oath; but it was not without a groan that he permitted his
followers to bind the sleeping knight. The Archbishop's attendants
secured the horse and arms of Ogier, and conducted their prisoner to
the Emperor at Soissons.

The Emperor had become so much embittered by Ogier's obstinate
resistance, added to his original fault, that he was disposed to order
him to instant death. But Turpin, seconded by the good Dukes Namo and
Salomon, prayed so hard for him that Charlemagne consented to remit a
violent death, but sentenced him to close imprisonment, under the
charge of the Archbishop, strictly limiting his food to one quarter of
a loaf of bread per day, with one piece of meat, and a quarter of a cup
of wine. In this way he hoped to quickly put an end to his life without
bringing on himself the hostility of the King of Denmark, and other
powerful friends of Ogier. He exacted a new oath of Turpin to obey his
order strictly.

The good Archbishop loved Ogier too well not to cast about for some
means of saving his life, which he foresaw he would soon lose if
subjected to such scanty fare, for Ogier was seven feet tall, and had
an appetite in proportion. Turpin remembered, moreover, that Ogier was
a true son of the Church, always zealous to propagate the faith and
subdue unbelievers; so he felt justified in practising on this occasion
what in later times has been entitled "mental reservation," without
swerving from the letter of the oath which he had taken. This is the
method he hit upon.

Every morning he had his prisoner supplied with a quarter of a loaf of
bread, made of two bushels of flour, to this he added a quarter of a
sheep or a fat calf, and he had a cup made which held forty pints of
wine, and allowed Ogier a quarter of it daily.

Ogier's imprisonment lasted long; Charlemagne was astonished to hear,
from time to time, that he still held out; and when he inquired more
particularly of Turpin, the good Archbishop, relying on his own
understanding of the words, did not hesitate to affirm positively that
he allowed his prisoner no more than the permitted ration.

We forgot to say that, when Ogier was led prisoner to Soissons, the
Abbot of Saint Faron, observing the fine horse Beiffror, and not having
at the time any other favor to ask of Charlemagne, begged the Emperor
to give him the horse, and had him taken to his abbey. He was impatient
to try his new acquisition, and when he had arrived in his litter at
the foot of the mountain where the horse had been brought to meet him
mounted him and rode onward. The horse, accustomed to bear the enormous
weight of Ogier in his armor, when he perceived nothing on his back but
the light weight of the Abbot, whose long robes fluttered against his
sides, ran away, making prodigious leaps over the steep acclivities of
the mountain till he reached the convent of Jouaire, where, in sight of
the Abbess and her nuns, he threw the Abbot, already half dead with
fright, to the ground. The Abbot, bruised and mortified, revenged
himself on poor Beiffror, whom he condemned, in his wrath, to be given
to the workmen to drag stones for a chapel that he was building near
the abbey. Thus, ill-fed, hard-worked, and often beaten, the noble
horse Beiffror passed the time while his master's imprisonment lasted.

That imprisonment would have been as long as his life if it had not
been for some important events which forced the Emperor to set Ogier at
liberty.

The Emperor learned at the same time that Carahue, King of Mauritania,
was assembling an army to come and demand the liberation of Ogier; that
Guyon, King of Denmark, was prepared to second the enterprise with all
his forces; and, worse than all, that the Saracens, under Bruhier,
Sultan of Arabia, had landed in Gascony, taken Bordeaux, and were
marching with all speed for Paris.

Charlemagne now felt how necessary the aid of Ogier was to him. But, in
spite of the representations of Turpin, Namo, and Salomon, he could not
bring himself to consent to surrender Charlot to such punishment as
Ogier should see fit to impose. Besides, he believed that Ogier was
without strength and vigor, weakened by imprisonment and long
abstinence.

At this crisis he received a message from Bruhier, proposing to put the
issue upon the result of a combat between himself and the Emperor or
his champion; promising, if defeated, to withdraw his army. Charlemagne
would willingly have accepted the challenge, but his counsellors all
opposed it. The herald was therefore told that the Emperor would take
time to consider his proposition, and give his answer the next day.

It was during this interval that the three Dukes succeeded in
prevailing upon Charlemagne to pardon Ogier, and to send for him to
combat the puissant enemy who now defied him; but it was no easy task
to persuade Ogier. The idea of his long imprisonment and the
recollection of his son, bleeding and dying in his arms by the blow of
the ferocious Charlot, made him long resist the urgency of his friends.
Though glory called him to encounter Bruhier, and the safety of
Christendom demanded the destruction of this proud enemy of the faith,
Ogier only yielded at last on condition that Charlot should be
delivered into his hands to be dealt with as he should see fit.

The terms were hard, but the danger was pressing, and Charlemagne, with
a returning sense of justice, and a strong confidence in the generous
though passionate soul of Ogier, at last consented to them.

Ogier was led into the presence of Charlemagne by the three peers. The
Emperor, faithful to his word, had caused Charlot to be brought into
the hall where the high barons were assembled, his hands tied, and his
head uncovered. When the Emperor saw Ogier approach he took Charlot by
the arm, led him towards Ogier, and said these words: "I surrender the
criminal; do with him as you think fit." Ogier, without replying,
seized Charlot by the hair, forced him on his knees, and lifted with
the other hand his irresistible sword. Charlemagne, who expected to see
the head of his son rolling at his feet, shut his eyes and uttered a
cry of horror.

Ogier had done enough. The next moment he raised Charlot, cut his
bonds, kissed him on the mouth, and hastened to throw himself at the
feet of the Emperor.

Nothing can exceed the surprise and joy of Charlemagne at seeing his
son unharmed and Ogier kneeling at his feet. He folded him in his arms,
bathed him with tears, and exclaimed to his barons, "I feel at this
moment that Ogier is greater than I." As for Charlot, his base soul
felt nothing but the joy of having escaped death; he remained such as
he had been, and it was not till some years afterwards he received the
punishment he deserved, from the hands of Huon of Bordeaux, as we have
seen in a former chapter.



OGIER, THE DANE (Continued)

WHEN Charlemagne had somewhat recovered his composure he was surprised
to observe that Ogier appeared in good case, and had a healthy color in
his cheeks. He turned to the Archbishop, who could not help blushing as
he met his eye. "By the head of Bertha, my queen," said Charlemagne,
"Ogier has had good quarters in your castle, my Lord Archbishop; but so
much the more am I indebted to you." All the barons laughed and jested
with Turpin, who only said, "Laugh as much as you please, my lords; but
for my part I am not sorry to see the arm in full vigor that is to
avenge us on the proud Saracen."

Charlemagne immediately despatched his herald, accepting the challenge,
and appointing the next day but one for the encounter. The proud and
crafty Bruhier laughed scornfully when he heard the reply accepting his
challenge, for he had a reliance on certain resources besides his
natural strength and skill. However, he swore by Mahomet to observe the
conditions as proposed and agreed upon.

Ogier now demanded his armor, and it was brought to him in excellent
condition, for the good Turpin had kept it faithfully; but it was not
easy to provide a horse for the occasion. Charlemagne had the best
horses of his stables brought out, except Blanchard, his own charger;
but all in vain, the weight of Ogier bent their backs to the ground. In
this embarrassment the Archbishop remembered that the Emperor had given
Beiffror to the Abbot of St. Faron, and sent off a courier in haste to
re-demand him.

Monks are hard masters, and the one who directed the laborers at the
abbey had but too faithfully obeyed the orders of the Abbot. Poor
Beiffror was brought back, lean, spiritless, and chafed with the
harness of the vile cart that he had had to draw so long. He carried
his head down, and trod heavily before Charlemagne; but when he heard
the voice of Ogier he raised his head, he neighed, his eyes flashed,
his former ardor showed itself by the force with which he pawed the
ground. Ogier caressed him, and the good steed seemed to return his
caresses; Ogier mounted him, and Beiffror, proud of carrying his master
again, leapt and curvetted with all his youthful vigor.

Nothing being now wanted, Charlemagne, at the head of his army, marched
forth from the city of Paris, and occupied the hill of Montmartre,
whence the view extended over the plain of St. Denis, where the battle
was to be fought.

When the appointed day came the Dukes Namo and Salomon, as seconds of
Ogier, accompanied him to the place marked out for the lists, and
Bruhier, with two distinguished Emirs, presented himself on the other
side.

Bruhier was in high spirits, and jested with his friends, as he
advanced, upon the appearance of Beiffror. "Is that the horse they
presume to match with Marchevallee, the best steed that ever fed in the
vales of Mount Atlas?" But now the combatants, having met and saluted
each other, ride apart to come together in full career. Beiffror flew
over the plain, and met the adversary more than half-way. The lances of
the two combatants were shivered at the shock, and Bruhier was
astonished to see almost at the same instant the sword of Ogier
gleaming above his head. He parried it with his buckler, and gave Ogier
a blow on his helmet, who returned it with another, better aimed or
better seconded by the temper of his blade, for it cut away part of
Bruhier's helmet, and with it his ear and part of his cheek. Ogier,
seeing the blood, did not immediately repeat his blow, and Bruhier
seized the moment to gallop off at one side. As he rode he took a vase
of gold which hung at his saddle-bow, and bathed with its contents the
wounded part. The blood instantly ceased to flow, the ear and the flesh
were restored quite whole, and the Dane was astonished to see his
antagonist return to the ground as sound as ever.

Bruhier laughed at his amazement. "Know," said he, "that I possess the
precious balm that Joseph of Arimathea used upon the body of the
crucified one, whom you worship. If I should lose an arm I could
restore it with a few drops of this. It is useless for you to contend
with me. Yield yourself, and, as you appear to be a strong fellow, I
will make you first oarsman in one of my galleys."

Ogier, though boiling with rage, forgot not to implore the assistance
of Heaven. "O Lord!" he exclaimed, "suffer not the enemy of thy name to
profit by the powerful help of that which owes all its virtue to thy
divine blood." At these words he attacked Bruhier again with more vigor
than ever; both struck terrible blows, and made grievous wounds; but
the blood flowed from those of Ogier, while Bruhier stanched his by the
application of his balm. Ogier, desperate at the unequal contest,
grasped Cortana with both hands, and struck his enemy such a blow that
it cleft his buckler, and cut off his arm with it; but Bruhier at the
same time launched one at Ogier, which, missing him, struck the head of
Beiffror, and the good horse fell, and drew down his master in his fall.

Bruhier had time to leap to the ground, to pick up his arm and apply
his balsam; then, before Ogier had recovered his footing, he rushed
forward with sword uplifted to complete his destruction.

Charlemagne, from the height of Montmartre, seeing the brave Ogier in
this situation, groaned, and was ready to murmur against Providence;
but the good Turpin, raising his arms, with a faith like that of Moses,
drew down upon the Christian warrior the favor of Heaven.

Ogier, promptly disengaging himself, pressed Bruhier with so much
impetuosity that he drove him to a distance from his horse, to whose
saddle-bow the precious balm was suspended; and very soon Charlemagne
saw Ogier, now completely in the advantage, bring his enemy to his
knees, tear off his helmet, and, with a sweep of his sword, strike his
head from his body.

After the victory, Ogier seized Marchevallee, leaped upon his back, and
became possessed of the precious flask, a few drops from which closed
his wounds and restored his strength. The French knights who had been
Bruhier's captives, now released, pressed round Ogier to thank him for
their deliverance.

Charlemagne and his nobles, as soon as their attention was relieved
from the single combat, perceived from their elevated position an
unusual agitation in the enemy's camp. They attributed it at first to
the death of their general, but soon the noise of arms, the cries of
combatants, and new standards which advanced, disclosed to them the
fact that Bruhier's army was attacked by a new enemy.

The Emperor was right; it was the brave Carahue of Mauritania, who,
with an army, had arrived in France, resolved to attempt the liberation
of Ogier, his brother in arms. Learning on his arrival the changed
aspect of affairs, he hesitated not to render a signal service to the
Emperor, by attacking the army of Bruhier in the midst of the
consternation occasioned by the loss of its commander.

Ogier recognized the standard of his friend, and leaping upon
Marchevallee, flew to aid his attack. Charlemagne followed with his
army; and the Saracen host, after an obstinate conflict, was forced to
surrender unconditionally.

The interview of Ogier and Carahue was such as might be anticipated of
two such attached friends and accomplished knights. Charlemagne went to
meet them, embraced them, and putting the King of Mauritania on his
right and Ogier on his left, returned with triumph to Paris. There the
Empress Bertha and the ladies of her court crowned them with laurels,
and the sage and gallant Eginhard, chamberlain and secretary of the
Emperor, wrote all these great events in his history.

A few days after Guyon, King of Denmark, arrived in France with a
chosen band of knights, and sent an ambassador to Charlemagne, to say
that he came, not as an enemy, but to render homage to him as the best
knight of the time and the head of the Christian world. Charlemagne
gave the ambassador a cordial reception, and mounting his horse, rode
forward to meet the King of Denmark.

These great princes, being assembled at the court of Charles, held
council together, and the ancient and sage barons were called to join
it.

It was decided that the united Danish and Mauritanian armies should
cross the sea and carry the war to the country of the Saracens, and
that a thousand French knights should range themselves under the banner
of Ogier, the Dane, who, though not a king, should have equal rank with
the two others.

We have not space to record all the illustrious actions performed by
Ogier and his allies in this war. Suffice it to say, they subdued the
Saracens of Ptolemais and Judaea, and, erecting those regions into a
kingdom, placed the crown upon the head of Ogier. Guyon and Carahue
then left him, to return to their respective dominions. Ogier adopted
Walter, the son of Guyon of Denmark, to be his successor in his
kingdom. He superintended his education, and saw the young prince grow
up worthy of his cares. But Ogier, in spite of all the honors of his
rank, often regretted the court of Charlemagne, the Duke Namo, and
Salomon of Brittany, for whom he had the respect and attachment of a
son. At last, finding Walter old enough to sustain the weight of
government, Ogier caused a vessel to be prepared secretly, and,
attended only by one squire, left his palace by night, and embarked to
return to France.

The vessel, driven by a fair wind, cut the sea with the swiftness of a
bird; but on a sudden it deviated from its course, no longer obeyed the
helm, and sped fast towards a black promontory which stretched into the
sea. This was a mountain of loadstone, and, its attractive power
increasing as the distance diminished, the vessel at last flew with the
swiftness of an arrow towards it, and was dashed to pieces on its rocky
base. Ogier alone saved himself, and reached the shore on a fragment of
the wreck.

Ogier advanced into the country, looking for some marks of inhabitancy,
but found none. On a sudden he encountered two monstrous animals,
covered with glittering scales, accompanied by a horse breathing fire.
Ogier drew his sword and prepared to defend himself; but the monsters,
terrific as they appeared, made no attempt to assail him, and the
horse, Papillon, knelt down, and appeared to court Ogier to mount upon
his back. Ogier hesitated not to see the adventure through; he mounted
Papillon, who ran with speed, and soon cleared the rocks and precipices
which hemmed in and concealed a beautiful landscape. He continued his
course till he reached a magnificent palace, and, without allowing
Ogier time to admire it, crossed a grand court-yard adorned with
colonnades, and entered a garden, where, making his way through alleys
of myrtle, he checked his course, and knelt down on the enamelled turf
of a fountain.

Ogier dismounted and took some steps along the margin of the stream,
but was soon stopped by meeting a young beauty, such as they paint the
Graces, and almost as lightly attired as they. At the same moment, to
his amazement, his armor fell off of its own accord. The young beauty
advanced with a tender air, and placed upon his head a crown of
flowers. At that instant the Danish hero lost his memory; his combats,
his glory, Charlemagne and his court, all vanished from his mind; he
saw only Morgana, he desired nothing but to sigh forever at her feet.

We abridge the narrative of all the delights which Ogier enjoyed for
more than a hundred years. Time flew by, leaving no impression of its
flight. Morgana's youthful charms did not decay, and Ogier had none of
those warnings of increasing years which less favored mortals never
fail to receive. There is no knowing how long this blissful state might
have lasted, if it had not been for an accident, by which Morgana one
day, in a sportive moment, snatched the crown from his head. That
moment Ogier regained his memory, and lost his contentment. The
recollection of Charlemagne, and of his own relatives and friends,
saddened the hours which he passed with Morgana. The fairy saw with
grief the changed looks of her lover. At last she drew from him the
acknowledgment that he wished to go, at least for a time, to revisit
Charles's court. She consented with reluctance, and with her own hands
helped to reinvest him with his armor. Papillon was led forth, Ogier
mounted him, and, taking a tender adieu of the tearful Morgana, crossed
at rapid speed the rocky belt which separated Morgana's palace from the
borders of the sea. The sea-goblins which had received him at his
coming awaited him on the shore. One of them took Ogier on his back,
and the other placing himself under Papillon, they spread their broad
fins, and in a short time traversed the wide space that separates the
isle of Avalon from France. They landed Ogier on the coast of
Languedoc, and then plunged into the sea and disappeared.

Ogier remounted on Papillon, who carried him across the kingdom almost
as fast as he had passed the sea. He arrived under the walls of Paris,
which he would scarcely have recognized if the high towers of St.
Genevieve had not caught his eye. He went straight to the palace of
Charlemagne, which seemed to him to have been entirely rebuilt. His
surprise was extreme, and increased still more on finding that he
understood with difficulty the language of the guards and attendants in
replying to his questions; and seeing them smile as they tried to
explain to one another the language in which he addressed them.
Presently the attention of some of the barons who were going to court
was attracted to the scene, and Ogier, who recognized the badges of
their rank, addressed them, and inquired if the Dukes Namo and Salomon
were still residing at the Emperor's court. At this question the barons
looked at one another in amazement; and one of the eldest said to the
rest, "How much this knight resembles the portrait of my grand-uncle,
Ogier the Dane." "Ah! my dear nephew, I am Ogier the Dane," said he;
and he remembered that Morgana had told him that he was little aware of
the flight of time during his abode with her.

The barons, more astonished than ever, concluded to conduct him to the
monarch who then reigned, the great Hugh Capet.

The brave Ogier entered the palace without hesitation; but when, on
reaching the royal hall, the barons directed him to make his obeisance
to the King of France, he was astonished to see a man of short stature
and large head, whose air, nevertheless, was noble and martial, seated
upon the throne on which he had so often seen Charlemagne, the tallest
and handsomest sovereign of his time.

Ogier recounted his adventures with simplicity and affectedness. Hugh
Capet was slow to believe him; but Ogier recalled so many proofs and
circumstances, that at last he was forced to recognize the aged warrior
to be the famous Ogier the Dane.

The king informed Ogier of the events which had taken place during his
long absence; that the line of Charlemagne was extinct; that a new
dynasty had commenced; that the old enemies of the kingdom, the
Saracens, were still troublesome; and that at that very time an army of
those miscreants was besieging the city of Chartres, to which he was
about to repair in a few days to its relief. Ogier, always inflamed
with the love of glory, offered the service of his arm, which the
illustrious monarch accepted graciously, and conducted him to the
queen. The astonishment of Ogier was redoubled when he saw the new
ornaments and head-dresses of the ladies; still, the beautiful hair
which they built up on their foreheads, and the feathers interwoven,
which waved with so much grace, gave them a noble air that delighted
him. His admiration increased when, instead of the old Empress Bertha,
he saw a young queen who combined a majestic mien with the graces of
her time of life, and manners candid and charming, suited to attach all
hearts. Ogier saluted the youthful queen with a respect so profound
that many of the courtiers took him for a foreigner, or at least for
some nobleman brought up at a distance from Paris, who retained the
manners of what they called the old court.

When the queen was informed by her husband that it was the celebrated
Ogier the Dane whom he presented to her, whose memorable exploits she
had often read in the chronicles of antiquity, her surprise was
extreme, which was increased when she remarked the dignity of his
address, the animation and even the youthfulness of his countenance.
This queen had too much intelligence to believe hastily; proof alone
could compel her assent; and she asked him many questions about the old
court of Charlemagne, and received such instructive and appropriate
answers as removed every doubt. It is to the corrections which Ogier
was at that time enabled to make to the popular narratives of his
exploits that we are indebted for the perfect accuracy and
trustworthiness of all the details of our own history.

King Hugh Capet, having received that same evening couriers from the
inhabitants of Chartres, informing him that they were hard pressed by
the besiegers, resolved to hasten with Ogier to their relief.

Ogier terminated this affair as expeditiously as he had so often done
others. The Saracens having dared to offer battle, he bore the
Oriflamme through the thickest of their ranks; Papillon, breathing fire
from his nostrils, threw them into disorder, and Cortana, wielded by
his invincible arm, soon finished their overthrow.

The king, victorious over the Saracens, led back the Danish hero to
Paris, where the deliverer of France received the honors due to his
valor. Ogier continued some time at the court, detained by the favor of
the king and queen; but erelong he had the pain to witness the death of
the king. Then it was that, impressed with all the perfections which he
had discerned in the queen, he could not withhold the tender homage of
the offer of his hand. The queen would perhaps have accepted it, she
had even called a meeting of her great barons to deliberate on the
proposition, when, the day before the meeting was to be held, at the
moment when Ogier was kneeling at her feet, she perceived a crown of
gold which an invisible hand had placed on his brow, and in an instant
a cloud enveloped Ogier, and he disappeared forever from her sight. It
was Morgana, the fairy, whose jealousy was awakened at what she beheld,
who now resumed her power, and took him away to dwell with her in the
island of Avalon. There, in company with the great King Arthur of
Britain, he still lives, and when his illustrious friend shall return
to resume his ancient reign he will doubtless return with him, and
share his triumph.




GLOSSARY


Abdalrahman, founder of the independent Ommiad (Saracenic) power in
Spain, conquered at Tours by Charles Martel.

Aberfraw, scene of nuptials of Branwen and Matholch.

Absyrtus, younger brother of Medea.

Abydos, a town on the Hellespont, nearly opposite to Sestos.

Abyla, Mount, or Columna, a mountain in Morocco, near Ceuta, now called
Jebel Musa or Ape's Hill, forming the Northwestern extremity of the
African coast opposite Gibraltar (See Pillars of Hercules).

Acestes, son of a Trojan woman who was sent by her father to Sicily,
that she might not be devoured by the monsters which infested the
territory of Troy.

Acetes, Bacchanal captured by Pentheus.

Achates, faithful friend and companion of Aeneas.

Achelous, river-god of the largest river in Greece--his Horn of Plenty.

Achilles, the hero of the Iliad, son of Peleus and of the Nereid
Thetis, slain by Paris.

Acis, youth loved by Galatea and slain by Polyphemus.

Acontius, a beautiful youth, who fell in love with Cydippe, the
daughter of a noble Athenian.

Acrisius, son of Abas, king of Argos, grandson of Lynceus, the
great-grandson of Danaus.

Actaeon, a celebrated huntsman, son of Aristaeus and Autonoe, who,
having seen Diana bathing, was changed by her to a stag and killed by
his own dogs.

Admeta, daughter of Eurystheus, covets Hippolyta's girdle.

Admetus, king of Thessaly, saved from death by Alcestis.

Adonis, a youth beloved by Aphrodite (Venus), and Proserpine; killed by
a boar.

Adrastus, a king of Argos.

Aeacus, son of Zeus (Jupiter) and Aegina, renowned in all Greece for
his justice and piety.

Aeaea, Circe's island, visited by Ulysses.

Aeetes, or Aeeta, son of Helios (the Sun) and Perseis, and father of
Medea and Absyrtus.

Aegeus, king of Athens.

Aegina, a rocky island in the middle of the Saronic gulf.

Aegis, shield or breastplate of Jupiter and Minerva.

Aegisthus, murderer of Agamemnon, slain by Orestes.

Aeneas, Trojan hero, son of Anchises and Aphrodite (Venus), and born on
Mount Ida, reputed first settler of Rome.

Aeneid, poem by Virgil, relating the wanderings of Aeneas from Troy to
Italy.

Ae'olus, son of Hellen and the nymph Orseis, represented in Homer as
the happy ruler of the Aeolian Islands, to whom Zeus had given dominion
over the winds.

Aesculapius, god of the medical art.

Aeson, father of Jason, made young again by Medea.

Aethiopians, inhabitants of the country south of Egypt.

Aethra, mother of Theseus by Aegeus.

Aetna, volcano in Sicily.

Agamedes, brother of Trophonius, distinguished as an architect.

Agamemnon, son of Plisthenis and grandson of Atreus, king of Mycenae,
although the chief commander of the Greeks, is not the hero of the
Iliad, and in chivalrous spirit altogether inferior to Achilles.

Agave, daughter of Cadmus, wife of Echion, and mother of Pentheus.

Agenor, father of Europa, Cadmus, Cilix, and Phoenix.

Aglaia, one of the Graces.

Agni, Hindu god of fire.

Agramant, a king in Africa.

Agrican, fabled king of Tartary, pursuing Angelica, finally killed by
Orlando.

Agrivain, one of Arthur's knights.

Ahriman, the Evil Spirit in the dual system of Zoroaster, See Ormuzd

Ajax, son of Telamon, king of Salamis, and grandson of Aeacus,
represented in the Iliad as second only to Achilles in bravery.

Alba, the river where King Arthur fought the Romans.

Alba Longa, city in Italy founded by son of Aeneas.

Alberich, dwarf guardian of Rhine gold treasure of the Nibelungs

Albracca, siege of.

Alcestis, wife of Admetus, offered hersell as sacrifice to spare her
husband, but rescued by Hercules.

Alcides (Hercules).

Alcina, enchantress.

Alcinous, Phaeacian king.

Alcippe, daughter of Mars, carried off by Halirrhothrus.

Alcmena, wife of Jupiter, and mother of Hercules.

Alcuin, English prelate and scholar.

Aldrovandus, dwarf guardian of treasure.

Alecto, one of the Furies.

Alexander the Great, king of Macedonia, conqueror of Greece, Egypt,
Persia, Babylonia, and India.

Alfadur, a name for Odin.

Alfheim, abode of the elves of light.

Alice, mother of Huon and Girard, sons of Duke Sevinus.

Alphenor, son of Niobe.

Alpheus, river god pursuing Arethusa, who escaped by being changed to a
fountain.

Althaea, mother of Meleager, whom she slew because he had in a quarrel
killed her brothers, thus disgracing "the house of Thestius," her
father.

Amalthea, nurse of the infant Jupiter in Crete.

Amata, wife of Latinus, driven mad by Alecto.

Amaury of Hauteville, false hearted Knight of Charlemagne.

Amazons, mythical race of warlike women.

Ambrosia, celestial food used by the gods.

Ammon, Egyptian god of life identified by Romans with phases of
Jupiter, the father of gods.

Amphiaraus, a great prophet and hero at Argos.

Amphion, a musician, son of Jupiter and Antiope (See Dirce).

Amphitrite, wife of Neptune.

Amphyrsos, a small river in Thessaly.

Ampyx, assailant of Perseus, turned to stone by seeing Gorgon's head.

Amrita, nectar giving immortality.

Amun, See Ammon

Amymone, one of the fifty daughters of Danaus, and mother by Poseidon
(Neptune) of Nauplius, the father of Palamedes.

Anaxarete, a maiden of Cyprus, who treated her lover Iphis with such
haughtiness that he hanged himself at her door.

Anbessa, Saracenic governor of Spain (725 AD).

Anceus, one of the Argonauts.

Anchises, beloved by Aphrodite (Venus), by whom he became the father of
Aeneas.

Andraemon, husband of Dryope, saw her changed into a tree.

Andret, a cowardly knight, spy upon Tristram.

Andromache, wife of Hector

Andromeda, daughter of King Cephas, delivered from monster by Perseus

Aneurin, Welsh bard

Angelica, Princess of Cathay

Anemone, short lived wind flower, created by Venus from the blood of
the slain Adonis

Angerbode, giant prophetess, mother of Fenris, Hela and the Midgard
Serpent

Anglesey, a Northern British island, refuge of Druids fleeing from
Romans

Antaeus, giant wrestler of Libya, killed by Hercules, who, finding him
stronger when thrown to the earth, lifted him into the air and
strangled him

Antea, wife of jealous Proetus

Antenor, descendants of, in Italy

Anteros, deity avenging unrequited love, brother of Eros (Cupid)

Anthor, a Greek

Antigone, daughter of Aedipus, Greek ideal of filial and sisterly
fidelity

Antilochus, son of Nestor

Antiope, Amazonian queen. See Dirce

Anubis, Egyptian god, conductor of the dead to judgment

Apennines

Aphrodite See Venus, Dione, etc.

Apis, Egyptian bull god of Memphis

Apollo, god of music and song

Apollo Belvedere, famous antique statue in Vatican at Rome

Apples of the Hesperides, wedding gifts to Juno, guarded by daughters
of Atlas and Hesperis, stolen by Atlas for Hercules.

Aquilo, or Boreas, the North Wind.

Aquitaine, ancient province of Southwestern France.

Arachne, a maiden skilled in weaving, changed to a spider by Minerva
for daring to compete with her.

Arcadia, a country in the middle of Peloponnesus, surrounded on all
sides by mountains.

Arcady, star of, the Pole star.

Arcas, son of Jupiter and Callisto.

Archer, constellation of the.

Areopagus, court of the, at Athens.

Ares, called Mars by the Romans, the Greek god of war, and one of the
great Olympian gods.

Arethusa, nymph of Diana, changed to a fountain.

Argius king of Ireland, father of Isoude the Fair.

Argo, builder of the vessel of Jason for the Argonautic expedition.

Argolis, city of the Nemean games.

Argonauts, Jason's crew seeking the Golden Fleece.

Argos, a kingdom in Greece.

Argus, of the hundred eyes, guardian of Io.

Ariadne, daughter of King Minos, who helped Theseus slay the Minotaur.

Arimanes SEE Ahriman.

Arimaspians, one-eyed people of Syria.

Arion, famous musician, whom sailors cast into the sea to rob him, but
whose lyric song charmed the dolphins, one of which bore him safely to
land.

Aristaeus, the bee keeper, in love with Eurydice.

Armorica, another name for Britain.

Arridano, a magical ruffian, slain by Orlando.

Artemis SEE Diana

Arthgallo, brother of Elidure, British king.

Arthur, king in Britain about the 6th century.

Aruns, an Etruscan who killed Camilla.

Asgard, home of the Northern gods.

Ashtaroth, a cruel spirit, called by enchantment to bring Rinaldo to
death.

Aske, the first man, made from an ash tree.

Astolpho of England, one of Charlemagne's knights.

Astraea, goddess of justice, daughter of Astraeus and Eos.

Astyages, an assailant of Perseus.

Astyanax, son of Hector of Troy, established kingdom of Messina in
Italy.

Asuias, opponents of the Braminical gods.

Atalanta, beautiful daughter of King of Icaria, loved and won in a foot
race by Hippomenes.

Ate, the goddess of infatuation, mischief and guilt.

Athamas, son of Aeolus and Enarete, and king of Orchomenus, in Boeotia,
SEE Ino

Athene, tutelary goddess of Athens, the same as Minerva.

Athens, the capital of Attica, about four miles from the sea, between
the small rivers Cephissus and Ilissus.

Athor, Egyptian deity, progenitor of Isis and Osiris.

Athos, the mountainous peninsula, also called Acte, which projects from
Chalcidice in Macedonia.

Atlantes, foster father of Rogero, a powerful magician.

Atlantis, according to an ancient tradition, a great island west of the
Pillars of Hercules, in the ocean, opposite Mount Atlas.

Atlas, a Titan, who bore the heavens on his shoulders, as punishment
for opposing the gods, one of the sons of Iapetus.

Atlas, Mount, general name for range in northern Africa.

Atropos, one of the Fates

Attica, a state in ancient Greece.

Audhumbla, the cow from which the giant Ymir was nursed. Her milk was
frost melted into raindrops.

Augean stables, cleansed by Hercules.

Augeas, king of Elis.

Augustan age, reign of Roman Emperor Augustus Caesar, famed for many
great authors.

Augustus, the first imperial Caesar, who ruled the Roman Empire 31
BC--14 AD.

Aulis, port in Boeotia, meeting place of Greek expedition against Troy.

Aurora, identical with Eos, goddess of the dawn.

Aurora Borealis, splendid nocturnal luminosity in northern sky, called
Northern Lights, probably electrical.

Autumn, attendant of Phoebus, the Sun.

Avalon, land of the Blessed, an earthly paradise in the Western Seas,
burial place of King Arthur.

Avatar, name for any of the earthly incarnations of Vishnu, the
Preserver (Hindu god).

Aventine, Mount, one of the Seven Hills of Rome.

Avernus, a miasmatic lake close to the promontory between Cumae and
Puteoli, filling the crater of an extinct volcano, by the ancients
thought to be the entrance to the infernal regions.

Avicenna, celebrated Arabian physician and philosopher.

Aya, mother of Rinaldo.

Aymon, Duke, father of Rinaldo and Bradamante.


B

Baal, king of Tyre.

Babylonian River, dried up when Phaeton drove the sun chariot.

Bacchanali a, a feast to Bacchus that was permitted to occur but once
in three years, attended by most shameless orgies.

Bacchanals, devotees and festal dancers of Bacchus.

Bacchus (Dionysus), god of wine and revelry.

Badon, battle of, Arthur's final victory over the Saxons.

Bagdemagus, King, a knight of Arthur's time.

Baldur, son of Odin, and representing in Norse mythology the sun god.

Balisardo, Orlando's sword.

Ban, King of Brittany, ally of Arthur, father of Launcelot.

Bards, minstrels of Welsh Druids.

Basilisk SEE Cockatrice

Baucis, wife of Philemon, visited by Jupiter and Mercury.

Bayard, wild horse subdued by Rinaldo.

Beal, Druids' god of life.

Bedivere, Arthur's knight.

Bedver, King Arthur's butler, made governor of Normandy.

Bedwyr, knightly comrade of Geraint.

Belisarda, Rogero's sword.

Bellerophon, demigod, conqueror of the Chimaera.

Bellona, the Roman goddess of war, represented as the sister or wife of
Mars.

Beltane, Druidical fire festival.

Belus, son of Poseidon (Neptune) and Libya or Eurynome, twin brother of
Agenor.

Bendigeid Vran, King of Britain.

Beowulf, hero and king of the Swedish Geats.

Beroe, nurse of Semele.

Bertha, mother of Orlando.

Bifrost, rainbow bridge between the earth and Asgard

Bladud, inventor, builder of the city of Bath.

Blamor, a knight of Arthur.

Bleoberis, a knight of Arthur.

Boeotia, state in ancient Greece, capital city Thebes.

Bohort, King, a knight of Arthur.

Bona Dea, a Roman divinity of fertility.

Bootes, also called Areas, son of Jupiter and Calisto, changed to
constellation of Ursa Major.

Boreas, North wind, son of Aeolus and Aurora.

Bosporus (Bosphorus), the Cow-ford, named for Io, when as a heifer she
crossed that strait.

Bradamante, sister to Rinaldo, a female warrior.

Brademagus, King, father of Sir Maleagans.

Bragi, Norse god of poetry.

Brahma, the Creator, chief god of Hindu religion.

Branwen, daughter of Llyr, King of Britain, wife of Mathclch.

Breciliande, forest of, where Vivian enticed Merlin.

Brengwain, maid of Isoude the Fair

Brennus, son of Molmutius, went to Gaul, became King of the Allobroges.

Breuse, the Pitiless, a caitiff knight.

Briareus, hundred armed giant.

Brice, Bishop, sustainer of Arthur when elected king.

Brigliadoro, Orlando's horse.

Briseis, captive maid belonging to Achilles.

Britto, reputed ancestor of British people.

Bruhier, Sultan of Arabia.

Brunello, dwarf, thief, and king

Brunhild, leader of the Valkyrie.

Brutus, great grandson of Aeneas, and founder of city of New Troy
(London), SEE Pandrasus

Bryan, Sir, a knight of Arthur.

Buddha, called The Enlightened, reformer of Brahmanism, deified teacher
of self abnegation, virtue, reincarnation, Karma (inevitable sequence
of every act), and Nirvana (beatific absorption into the Divine), lived
about

Byblos, in Egypt.

Byrsa, original site of Carthage.


C

Cacus, gigantic son of Vulcan, slain by Hercules, whose captured cattle
he stole.

Cadmus, son of Agenor, king of Phoenicia, and of Telephassa, and
brother of Europa, who, seeking his sister, carried off by Jupiter, had
strange adventures--sowing in the ground teeth of a dragon he had
killed, which sprang up armed men who slew each other, all but five,
who helped Cadmus to found the city of Thebes.

Caduceus, Mercury's staff.

Cadwallo, King of Venedotia (North Wales).

Caerleon, traditional seat of Arthur's court.

Caesar, Julius, Roman lawyer, general, statesman and author, conquered
and consolidated Roman territory, making possible the Empire.

Caicus, a Greek river.

Cairns, Druidical store piles.

Calais, French town facing England.

Calchas, wisest soothsayer among the Greeks at Troy.

Caliburn, a sword of Arthur.

Calliope, one of the nine Muses

Callisto, an Arcadian nymph, mother of Arcas (SEE Bootes), changed by
Jupiter to constellation Ursa Minor.

Calpe, a mountain in the south of Spain, on the strait between the
Atlantic and Mediterranean, now Rock of Gibraltar.

Calydon, home of Meleager.

Calypso, queen of Island of Ogyia, where Ulysses was wrecked and held
seven years.

Camber, son of Brutus, governor of West Albion (Wales).

Camelot, legendary place in England where Arthur's court and palace
were located.

Camenae, prophetic nymphs, belonging to the religion of ancient Italy.

Camilla, Volscian maiden, huntress and Amazonian warrior, favorite of
Diana.

Camlan, battle of, where Arthur was mortally wounded.

Canterbury, English city.

Capaneus, husband of Evadne, slain by Jupiter for disobedience.

Capet, Hugh, King of France (987-996 AD).

Caradoc Briefbras, Sir, great nephew of King Arthur.

Carahue, King of Mauretania.

Carthage, African city, home of Dido

Cassandra, daughter of Priam and Hecuba, and twin sister of Helenus, a
prophetess, who foretold the coming of the Greeks but was not believed.

Cassibellaunus, British chieftain, fought but not conquered by Caesar.

Cassiopeia, mother of Andromeda.

Castalia, fountain of Parnassus, giving inspiration to Oracular
priestess named Pythia.

Castalian Cave, oracle of Apollo.

Castes (India).

Castor and Pollux--the Dioscuri, sons of Jupiter and Leda,--Castor a
horseman, Pollux a boxer (SEE Gemini).

Caucasus, Mount

Cavall, Arthur's favorite dog.

Cayster, ancient river.

Cebriones, Hector's charioteer.

Cecrops, first king of Athens.

Celestials, gods of classic mythology.

Celeus, shepherd who sheltered Ceres, seeking Proserpine, and whose
infant son Triptolemus was in gratitude made great by Ceres.

Cellini, Benvenuto, famous Italian sculptor and artificer in metals.

Celtic nations, ancient Gauls and Britons, modern Bretons, Welsh, Irish
and Gaelic Scotch.

Centaurs, originally an ancient race, inhabiting Mount Pelion in
Thessaly, in later accounts represented as half horses and half men,
and said to have been the offspring of Ixion and a cloud.

Cephalus, husband of beautiful but jealous Procris.

Cephe us, King of Ethiopians, father of Andromeda.

Cephisus, a Grecian stream.

Cerberus, three-headed dog that guarded the entrance to Hades, called a
son of Typhaon and Echidna

CERES (See Demeter)

CESTUS, the girdle of Venus

CEYX, King of Thessaly (See Halcyone)

CHAOS, original Confusion, personified by Greeks as most ancient of the
gods

CHARLEMAGNE, king of the Franks and emperor of the Romans

CHARLES MARTEL', king of the Franks, grandfather of Charlemagne, called
Martel (the Hammer) from his defeat of the Saracens at Tours

CHARLOT, son of Charlemagne

CHARON, son of Erebos, conveyed in his boat the shades of the dead
across the rivers of the lower world

CHARYB'DIS, whirlpool near the coast of Sicily, See Scylla

CHIMAERA, a fire breathing monster, the fore part of whose body was
that of a lion, the hind part that of a dragon, and the middle that of
a goat, slain by Bellerophon

CHINA, Lamas (priests) of

CHOS, island in the Grecian archipelago

CHIRON, wisest of all the Centaurs, son of Cronos (Saturn) and Philyra,
lived on Mount Pelion, instructor of Grecian heroes

CHRYSEIS, Trojan maid, taken by Agamemnon

CHRYSES, priest of Apollo, father of Chryseis

CICONIANS, inhabitants of Ismarus, visited by Ulysses

CIMBRI, an ancient people of Central Europe

Cimmeria, a land of darkness

Cimon, Athenian general

Circe, sorceress, sister of Aeetes

Cithaeron, Mount, scene of Bacchic worship

Clarimunda, wife of Huon

Clio, one of the Muses

Cloridan, a Moor

Clotho, one of the Fates

Clymene, an ocean nymph

Clytemnestra, wife of Agamemnon, killed by Orestes

Clytie, a water nymph, in love with Apollo

Cnidos, ancient city of Asia Minor, seat of worship of Aphrodite (Venus)

Cockatrice (or Basilisk), called King of Serpents, supposed to kill
with its look

Cocytus, a river of Hades

Colchis, a kingdom east of the Black Sea

Colophon, one of the seven cities claiming the birth of Homer

Columba, St, an Irish Christian missionary to Druidical parts of
Scotland

Conan, Welsh king

Constantine, Greek emperor

Cordeilla, daughter of the mythical King Leir

Corineus, a Trojan warrior in Albion

Cornwall, southwest part of Britain

Cortana, Ogier's sword

Corybantes, priests of Cybele, or Rhea, in Phrygia, who celebrated her
worship with dances, to the sound of the drum and the cymbal, 143

Crab, constellation

Cranes and their enemies, the Pygmies, of Ibycus

Creon, king of Thebes

Crete, one of the largest islands of the Mediterranean Sea, lying south
of the Cyclades

Creusa, daughter of Priam, wife of Aeneas

Crocale, a nymph of Diana

Cromlech, Druidical altar

Cronos, See Saturn

Crotona, city of Italy

Cuchulain, Irish hero, called the "Hound of Ireland,"

Culdees', followers of St. Columba, Cumaean Sibyl, seeress of Cumae,
consulted by Aeneas, sold Sibylline books to Tarquin

Cupid, child of Venus and god of love

Curoi of Kerry, wise man

Cyane, river, opposed Pluto's passage to Hades

Cybele (Rhea)

Cyclopes, creatures with circular eyes, of whom Homer speaks as a
gigantic and lawless race of shepherds in Sicily, who devoured human
beings, they helped Vulcan to forge the thunderbolts of Zeus under Aetna

Cymbeline, king of ancient Britain

Cynosure (Dog's tail), the Pole star, at tail of Constellation Ursa
Minor

Cynthian mountain top, birthplace of Artemis (Diana) and Apollo

Cyprus, island off the coast of Syria, sacred to Aphrodite

Cyrene, a nymph, mother of Aristaeus


D

Daedalus, architect of the Cretan Labyrinth, inventor of sails

Daguenet, King Arthur's fool

Dalai Lama, chief pontiff of Thibet

Danae, mother of Perseus by Jupiter

Danaides, the fifty daughters of Danaus, king of Argos, who were
betrothed to the fifty sons of Aegyptus, but were commanded by their
father to slay each her own husband on the marriage night

Danaus (See Danaides)

Daphne, maiden loved by Apollo, and changed into a laurel tree

Dardanelles, ancient Hellespont

Dardanus, progenitor of the Trojan kings

Dardinel, prince of Zumara

Dawn, See Aurora

Day, an attendant on Phoebus, the Sun

Day star (Hesperus)

Death, See Hela

Deiphobus, son of Priam and Hecuba, the bravest brother of Paris

Dejanira, wife of Hercules

Delos, floating island, birthplace of Apollo and Diana

Delphi, shrine of Apollo, famed for its oracles

Demeter, Greek goddess of marriage and human fertility, identified by
Romans with Ceres

Demeha, South Wales

Demodocus, bard of Alomous, king of the Phaeaeians

Deucalion, king of Thessaly, who with his wife Pyrrha were the only
pair surviving a deluge sent by Zeus

Dia, island of

Diana (Artemis), goddess of the moon and of the chase, daughter of
Jupiter and Latona

Diana of the Hind, antique sculpture in the Louvre, Paris

Diana, temple of

Dictys, a sailor

Didier, king of the Lombards

Dido, queen of Tyre and Carthage, entertained the shipwrecked Aeneas

Diomede, Greek hero during Trojan War

Dione, female Titan, mother of Zeus, of Aphrodite (Venus)

Dionysus See Bacchus

Dioscuri, the Twins (See Castor and Pollux)

Dirce, wife of Lycus, king of Thebes, who ordered Amphion and Zethus to
tie Antiope to a wild bull, but they, learning Antiope to be their
mother, so treated Dirce herself

Dis See Pluto

Discord, apple of, See Eris.

Discordia, See Eris.

Dodona, site of an oracle of Zeus (Jupiter)

Dorceus, a dog of Diana

Doris, wife of Nereus

Dragon's teeth sown by Cadmus

Druids, ancient Celtic priests

Dryades (or Dryads), See Wood nymphs

Dryope, changed to a lotus plant, for plucking a lotus--enchanted form
of the nymph Lotis

Dubricius, bishop of Caerleon.

Dudon, a knight, comrade of Astolpho.

Dunwallo Molmu'tius, British king and lawgiver

Durindana, sword of Orlando or Rinaldo

Dwarfs in Wagner's Nibelungen Ring


E

Earth (Gaea); goddess of the

Ebudians, the

Echo, nymph of Diana, shunned by Narcissus, faded to nothing but a voice

Ecklenlied, the

Eddas, Norse mythological records.

Ederyn, son of Nudd

Egena, nymph of the Fountain

Eisteddfod, session of Welsh bards and minstrels

Electra, the lost one of the Pleiades, also, sister of Orestes

Eleusian Mysteries, instituted by Ceres, and calculated to awaken
feelings of piety and a cheerful hope of better life in the future

Eleusis, Grecian city

Elgin Marbles, Greek sculptures from the Parthenon of Athens, now in
British Museum, London, placed there by Lord Elgin

Eliaures, enchanter

Elidure, a king of Britain

Elis, ancient Greek city

Elli, old age; the one successful wrestler against Thor

Elphin, son of Gwyddiro

Elves, spiritual beings, of many powers and dispositions--some evil,
some good

Elvidnir, the ball of Hela

Elysian Fields, the land of the blest

Elysian Plain, whither the favored of the gods were taken without death

Elysium, a happy land, where there is neither snow, nor cold, nor ram.
Hither favored heroes, like Menelaus, pass without dying, and live
happy under the rule of Rhadamanthus. In the Latin poets Elysium is
part of the lower world, and the residence of the shades of the blessed

Embla, the first woman

Enseladus, giant defeated by Jupiter

Endymion, a beautiful youth beloved by Diana

Enid, wife of Geraint

Enna, vale of home of Proserpine

Enoch, the patriarch

Epidaurus, a town in Argolis, on the Saronic gulf, chief seat of the
worship of Aeculapius, whose temple was situated near the town

Epimetheus, son of Iapetus, husband of Pandora, with his brother
Prometheus took part in creation of man

Epirus, country to the west of Thessaly, lying along the Adriatic Sea

Epopeus, a sailor

Erato, one of the Muses

Erbin of Cornwall, father of Geraint

Erebus, son of Chaos, region of darkness, entrance to Hades

Eridanus, river

Erinys, one of the Furies

Eriphyle, sister of Polynices, bribed to decide on war, in which her
husband was slain

Eris (Discordia), goddess of discord. At the wedding of Peleus and
Thetis, Eris being uninvited threw into the gathering an apple "For the
Fairest," which was claimed by Hera (Juno), Aphrodite (Venus) and
Athena (Minerva) Paris, being called upon for judgment, awarded it to
Aphrodite

Erisichthon, an unbeliever, punished by famine

Eros See Cupid

Erytheia, island

Eryx, a mount, haunt of Venus

Esepus, river in Paphlagonia

Estrildis, wife of Locrine, supplanting divorced Guendolen

Eteocles, son of Oeipus and Jocasta

Etruscans, ancient people of Italy.

Etzel, king of the Huns

Euboic Sea, where Hercules threw Lichas, who brought him the poisoned
shirt of Nessus

Eude, king of Aquitaine, ally of Charles Martel

Eumaeus, swineherd of Aeeas

Eumenides, also called Erinnyes, and by the Romans Furiae or Diraae,
the Avenging Deities, See Furies

Euphorbus, a Trojan, killed by Menelaus

Euphros'yne, one of the Graces

Europa, daughter of the Phoenician king Agenor, by Zeus the mother of
Minos, Rhadamanthus, and Sarpedon

Eurus, the East wind

Euyalus, a gallant Trojan soldier, who with Nisus entered the Grecian
camp, both being slain.

Eurydice, wife of Orpheus, who, fleeing from an admirer, was killed by
a snake and borne to Tartarus, where Orpheus sought her and was
permitted to bring her to earth if he would not look back at her
following him, but he did, and she returned to the Shades.

Eurylochus, a companion of Ulysses.

Eurynome, female Titan, wife of Ophlon

Eurystheus, taskmaster of Hercules.

Eurytion, a Centaur (See Hippodamia).

Euterpe, Muse who presided over music.

Evadne, wife of Capaneus, who flung herself upon his funeral pile and
perished with him

Evander, Arcadian chief, befriending Aeneas in Italy.

Evnissyen, quarrelsome brother of Branwen.

Excalibar, sword of King Arthur.


F

Fafner, a giant turned dragon, treasure stealer, by the Solar Theory
simply the Darkness who steals the day.

Falerina, an enchantress.

Fasolt, a giant, brother of Fafner, and killed by him.

"Fasti," Ovid's, a mythological poetic calendar.

FATA MORGANA, a mirage

FATES, the three, described as daughters of Night--to indicate the
darkness and obscurity of human destiny--or of Zeus and Themis, that
is, "daughters of the just heavens" they were Clo'tho, who spun the
thread of life, Lach'esis, who held the thread and fixed its length and
At'ropos, who cut it off

FAUNS, cheerful sylvan deities, represented in human form, with small
horns, pointed ears, and sometimes goat's tail

FAUNUS, son of Picus, grandson of Saturnus, and father of Latinus,
worshipped as the protecting deity of agriculture and of shepherds, and
also as a giver of oracles

FAVONIUS, the West wind

FEAR

FENRIS, a wolf, the son of Loki the Evil Principle of Scandinavia,
supposed to have personated the element of fire, destructive except
when chained

FENSALIR, Freya's palace, called the Hall of the Sea, where were
brought together lovers, husbands, and wives who had been separated by
death

FERRAGUS, a giant, opponent of Orlando

FERRAU, one of Charlemagne's knights

FERREX. brother of Porrex, the two sons of Leir

FIRE WORSHIPPERS, of ancient Persia, See Parsees FLOLLO, Roman tribune
in Gaul

FLORA, Roman goddess of flowers and spring

FLORDELIS, fair maiden beloved by Florismart

FLORISMART, Sir, a brave knight.

FLOSSHILDA, one of the Rhine daughters

FORTUNATE FIELDS

FORTUNATE ISLANDS (See Elysian Plain)

FORUM, market place and open square for public meetings in Rome,
surrounded by court houses, palaces, temples, etc

FRANCUS, son of Histion, grandson of Japhet, great grandson of Noah,
legendary ancestor of the Franks, or French

FREKI, one of Odin's two wolves

FREY, or Freyr, god of the sun

FREYA, Norse goddess of music, spring, and flowers

FRICKA, goddess of marriage

FRIGGA, goddess who presided over smiling nature, sending sunshine,
rain, and harvest

FROH, one of the Norse gods

FRONTI'NO, Rogero's horse

FURIES (Erinnyes), the three retributive spirits who punished crime,
represented as snaky haired old woman, named Alecto, Megaeira, and
Tisiphone

FUSBERTA, Rinaldo's sword


G

GAEA, or Ge, called Tellus by the Romans, the personification of the
earth, described as the first being that sprang fiom Chaos, and gave
birth to Uranus (Heaven) and Pontus (Sea)

GAHARIET, knight of Arthur's court

GAHERIS, knight

GALAFRON, King of Cathay, father of Angelica

GALAHAD, Sir, the pure knight of Arthur's Round Table, who safely took
the Siege Perilous (which See)

GALATEA, a Nereid or sea nymph

GALATEA, statue carved and beloved by Pygmalion

GALEN, Greek physician and philosophical writer

GALLEHANT, King of the Marches

GAMES, national athletic contests in Greece--Olympian, at Olympia,
Pythian, near Delphi, seat of Apollo's oracle, Isthmian, on the
Corinthian Isthmus, Nemean, at Nemea in Argolis

GAN, treacherous Duke of Maganza

GANELON of Mayence, one of Charlemagne's knights

GANGES, river in India

GANO, a peer of Charlemagne

GANYMEDE, the most beautiful of all mortals, carried off to Olympus
that he might fill the cup of Zeus and live among the immortal gods

GARETH, Arthur's knight

GAUDISSO, Sultan

GAUL, ancient France

GAUTAMA, Prince, the Buddha

GAWAIN, Arthur's knight

GAWL, son of Clud, suitor for Rhiannon

GEMINI (See Castor), constellation created by Jupiter from the twin
brothers after death, 158

GENGHIS Khan, Tartar conqueror

GENIUS, in Roman belief, the protective Spirit of each individual man,
See Juno

GEOFFREY OF MON'MOUTH, translator into Latin of the Welsh History of
the Kings of Britain (1150)

GERAINT, a knight of King Arthur

GERDA, wife of Frey

GERI, one of Odin's two wolves

GERYON, a three bodied monster

GESNES, navigator sent for Isoude the Fair

GIALLAR HORN, the trumpet that Heimdal will blow at the judgment day

GIANTS, beings of monstrous size and of fearful countenances,
represented as in constant opposition to the gods, in Wagner's
Nibelungen Ring

GIBICHUNG RACE, ancestors of Alberich

GIBRALTAR, great rock and town at southwest corner of Spain (See
Pillars of Hercules)

GILDAS, a scholar of Arthur's court

GIRARD, son of Duke Sevinus

GLASTONBURY, where Arthur died

GLAUCUS, a fisherman, loving Scylla

GLEIPNIR, magical chain on the wolf Fenris

GLEWLWYD, Arthur's porter

GOLDEN FLEECE, of ram used for escape of children of Athamas, named
Helle and Phryxus (which See), after sacrifice of ram to Jupiter,
fleece was guarded by sleepless dragon and gained by Jason and
Argonauts (which See, also Helle)

GONERIL, daughter of Leir

GORDIAN KNOT, tying up in temple the wagon of Gordius, he who could
untie it being destined to be lord of Asia, it was cut by Alexander the
Great, 48

Gordius, a countryman who, arriving in Phrygia in a wagon, was made
king by the people, thus interpreting an oracle, 48

Gorgons, three monstrous females, with huge teeth, brazen claws and
snakes for hair, sight of whom turned beholders to stone, Medusa, the
most famous, slain by Perseus

Gorlois, Duke of Tintadel

Gouvernail, squire of Isabella, queen of Lionesse, protector of her son
Tristram while young, and his squire in knighthood

Graal, the Holy, cup from which the Saviour drank at Last Supper, taken
by Joseph of Arimathea to Europe, and lost, its recovery becoming a
sacred quest for Arthur's knights

Graces, three goddesses who enhanced the enjoyments of life by
refinement and gentleness; they were Aglaia (brilliance), Euphrosyne
(joy), and Thalia (bloom)

Gradas'so, king of Sericane

Graeae, three gray haired female watchers for the Gorgons, with one
movable eye and one tooth between the three

Grand Lama, Buddhist pontiff in Thibet

Grendel, monster slain by Beowulf

Gryphon (griffin), a fabulous animal, with the body of a lion and the
head and wings of an eagle, dwelling in the Rhipaean mountains, between
the Hyperboreans and the one eyed Arimaspians, and guarding the gold of
the North.

Guebers, Persian fire worshippers.

Guendolen, wife of Locrine.

Guenevere, wife of King Arthur, beloved by Launcelot.

Guerin, lord of Vienne, father of Oliver.

Guiderius, son of Cymbeline.

Guillamurius, king in Ireland.

Guimier, betrothed of Caradoc.

Gullinbursti, the boar drawing Frey's car.

Gulltopp, Heimdell's horse.

Gunfasius, King of the Orkneys.

Ganther, Burgundian king, brother of Kriemhild.

Gutrune, half sister to Hagen.

Gwern son of Matholch and Branwen.

Gwernach the Giant.

Gwiffert Petit, ally of Geraint.

Gwyddno, Garanhir, King of Gwaelod.

Gwyr, judge in the court of Arthur.

Gyoll, river.


H

Hades, originally the god of the nether world--the name later used to
designate the gloomy subterranean land of the dead.

Haemon, son of Creon of Thebes, and lover of Antigone.

Haemonian city.

Haemus, Mount, northern boundary of Thrace.

Hagan, a principal character in the Nibelungen Lied, slayer of
Siegfried.

HALCYONE, daughter of Aeneas, and the beloved wife of Ceyx, who, when
he was drowned, flew to his floating body, and the pitying gods changed
them both to birds (kingfishers), who nest at sea during a certain calm
week in winter ("halcyon weather")

HAMADRYADS, tree-nymphs or wood-nymphs, See Nymphs

HARMONIA, daughter of Mars and Venus, wife of Cadmus

HAROUN AL RASCHID, Caliph of Arabia, contemporary of Charlemagne

HARPIES, monsters, with head and bust of woman, but wings, legs and
tail of birds, seizing souls of the wicked, or punishing evildoers by
greedily snatching or defiling their food

HARPOCRATES, Egyptian god, Horus

HEBE, daughter of Juno, cupbearer to the gods

HEBRUS, ancient name of river Maritzka

HECATE, a mighty and formidable divinity, supposed to send at night all
kinds of demons and terrible phantoms from the lower world

HECTOR, son of Priam and champion of Troy

HECTOR, one of Arthur's knights

HECTOR DE MARYS', a knight

HECUBA, wife of Priam, king of Troy, to whom she bore Hector, Paris,
and many other children

HEGIRA, flight of Mahomet from Mecca to Medina (622 AD), era from which
Mahometans reckon time, as we do from the birth of Christ

HEIDRUN, she goat, furnishing mead for slain heroes in Valhalla

HEIMDALL, watchman of the gods

HEL, the lower world of Scandinavia, to which were consigned those who
had not died in battle

HELA (Death), the daughter of Loki and the mistress of the Scandinavian
Hel

HELEN, daughter of Jupiter and Leda, wife of Menelaus, carried off by
Paris and cause of the Trojan War

HELENUS, son of Priam and Hecuba, celebrated for his prophetic powers

HELIADES, sisters of Phaeton

HELICON, Mount, in Greece, residence of Apollo and the Muses, with
fountains of poetic inspiration, Aganippe and Hippocrene

HELIOOPOLIS, city of the Sun, in Egypt

HELLAS, Gieece

HELLE, daughter of Thessalian King Athamas, who, escaping from cruel
father with her brother Phryxus, on ram with golden fleece, fell into
the sea strait since named for her (See Golden Fleece)

HELLESPONt, narrow strait between Europe and Asia Minor, named for Helle

HENGIST, Saxon invader of Britain, 449 AD

HEPHAESTOS, See VULCAN

HERA, called Juno by the Romans, a daughter of Cronos (Saturn) and
Rhea, and sister and wife of Jupiter, See JUNO

HERCULES, athletic hero, son of Jupiter and Alcmena, achieved twelve
vast labors and many famous deeds

HEREWARD THE WAKE, hero of the Saxons

HERMES (Mercury), messenger of the gods, deity of commerce, science,
eloquence, trickery, theft, and skill generally

HERMIONE, daughter of Menelaus and Helen

HERMOD, the nimble, son of Odin

HERO, a priestess of Venus, beloved of Leander

HERODOTUS, Greek historian

HESIOD, Greek poet

HESPERIA, ancient name for Italy

HESPERIDES (See Apples of the Hesperides)

HESPERUS, the evening star (also called Day Star)

HESTIA, cilled Vesta by the Romans, the goddess of the hearth

HILDEBRAND, German magician and champion

HINDU TRIAD, Brahma, Vishnu, and Siva

HIPPOCRENE (See Helicon)

HIPPODAMIA, wife of Pirithous, at whose wedding the Centaurs offered
violence to the bride, causing a great battle

HIPPOGRIFF, winged horse, with eagle's head and claws

HIPPOLYTA, Queen of the Amazons

Hippolytus, son of Thesus

HIPPOMENES, who won Atalanta in foot race, beguiling her with golden
apples thrown for her to

HISTION, son of Japhet

HODUR, blind man, who, fooled by Loki, threw a mistletoe twig at
Baldur, killing him

HOEL, king of Brittany

HOMER, the blind poet of Greece, about 850 B C

HOPE (See PANDORA)

HORAE See HOURS

HORSA, with Hengist, invader of Britain

HORUS, Egyptian god of the sun

HOUDAIN, Tristram's dog

HRINGHAM, Baldur's ship

HROTHGAR, king of Denmark

HUGI, who beat Thialfi in foot races

HUGIN, one of Odin's two ravens

HUNDING, husband of Sieglinda

HUON, son of Duke Sevinus

HYACINTHUS, a youth beloved by Apollo, and accidentally killed by him,
changed in death to the flower, hyacinth

HYADES, Nysaean nymphs, nurses of infant Bacchus, rewarded by being
placed as cluster of stars in the heavens

HYALE, a nymph of Diana

HYDRA, nine headed monster slain by Hercules

HYGEIA, goddess of health, daughter of Aesculapius

HYLAS, a youth detained by nymphs of spring where he sought water

HYMEN, the god of marriage, imagined as a handsome youth and invoked in
bridal songs

HYMETTUS, mountain in Attica, near Athens, celebrated for its marble
and its honey

HYPERBOREANS, people of the far North

HYPERION, a Titan, son of Uranus and Ge, and father of Helios, Selene,
and Eos, cattle of.

Hyrcania, Prince of, betrothed to Clarimunda

Hyrieus, king in Greece.


I

Iapetus, a Titan, son of Uranus and Ge, and father of Atlas,
Prometheus, Epimetheus, and Menoetius.

Iasius, father of Atalanta

Ibycus, a poet, story of, and the cranes

Icaria, island of the Aegean Sea, one of the Sporades

Icarius, Spartan prince, father of Penelope

Icarus, son of Daedalus, he flew too near the sun with artificial
wings, and, the wax melting, he fell into the sea

Icelos, attendant of Morpheus

Icolumkill SEE Iona

Ida, Mount, a Trojan hill

Idaeus, a Trojan herald

Idas, son of Aphareus and Arene, and brother of Lynceus Idu'na, wife of
Bragi

Igerne, wife of Gorlois, and mother, by Uther, of Arthur

Iliad, epic poem of the Trojan War, by Homer

Ilioheus, a son of Niobe

Ilium SEE Troy

Illyria, Adriatic countries north of Greece

Imogen, daughter of Pandrasus, wife of Trojan Brutus

Inachus, son of Oceanus and Tethys, and father of Phoroneus and Io,
also first king of Argos, and said to have given his name to the river
Inachus

INCUBUS, an evil spirit, supposed to lie upon persons in their sleep

INDRA, Hindu god of heaven, thunder, lightning, storm and rain

INO, wife of Athamas, fleeing from whom with infant son she sprang into
the sea and was changed to Leucothea

IO, changed to a heifer by Jupiter

IOBATES, King of Lycia

IOLAUS, servant of Hercules

IOLE, sister of Dryope

IONA, or Icolmkill, a small northern island near Scotland, where St
Columba founded a missionary monastery (563 AD)

IONIA, coast of Asia Minor

IPHIGENIA, daughter of Agamemnon, offered as a sacrifice but carried
away by Diana

IPHIS, died for love of Anaxarete, 78

IPHITAS, friend of Hercules, killed by him

IRIS, goddess of the rainbow, messenger of Juno and Zeus

IRONSIDE, Arthur's knight

ISABELLA, daughter of king of Galicia

ISIS, wife of Osiris, described as the giver of death

ISLES OF THE BLESSED

ISMARUS, first stop of Ulysses, returning from Trojan War ISME'NOS, a
son of Niobe, slain by Apollo

ISOLIER, friend of Rinaldo

ISOUDE THE FAIR, beloved of Tristram

ISOUDE OF THE WHITE HANDS, married to Tristram

ISTHMIAN GAMES, See GAMES

ITHACA, home of Ulysses and Penelope

IULUS, son of Aeneas

IVO, Saracen king, befriending Rinaldo

IXION, once a sovereign of Thessaly, sentenced in Tartarus to be lashed
with serpents to a wheel which a strong wind drove continually around


J

JANICULUM, Roman fortress on the Janiculus, a hill on the other side of
the Tiber

JANUS, a deity from the earliest times held in high estimation by the
Romans, temple of

JAPHET (Iapetus)

JASON, leader of the Argonauts, seeking the Golden Fleece

JOSEPH OF ARIMATHEA, who bore the Holy Graal to Europe

JOTUNHEIM, home of the giants in Northern mythology

JOVE (Zeus), chief god of Roman and Grecian mythology, See JUPITER

JOYOUS GARDE, residence of Sir Launcelot of the Lake

JUGGERNAUT, Hindu deity

JUNO, the particular guardian spirit of each woman (See Genius)

JUNO, wife of Jupiter, queen of the gods

JUPITER, JOVIS PATER, FATHER JOVE, JUPITER and JOVE used
interchangeably, at Dodona, statue of the Olympian

JUPITER AMMON (See Ammon)

JUPITER CAPITOLINUS, temple of, preserving the Sibylline books

JUSTICE, See THEMIS


K

KADYRIATH, advises King Arthur

KAI, son of Kyner

KALKI, tenth avatar of Vishnu

KAY, Arthur's steward and a knight

KEDALION, guide of Orion

KERMAN, desert of

KICVA, daughter of Gwynn Gloy

KILWICH, son of Kilydd

KILYDD, son of Prince Kelyddon, of Wales

KNEPH, spirit or breath

KNIGHTS, training and life of

KRIEMHILD, wife of Siegfried

KRISHNA, eighth avatar of Vishnu, Hindu deity of fertility in nature
and mankind

KYNER, father of Kav

KYNON, son of Clydno


L

LABYRINTH, the enclosed maze of passageways where roamed the Minotaur
of Crete, killed by Theseus with aid of Ariadne

LACHESIS, one of the Fates (which See)

LADY OF THE FOUNTAIN, tale told by Kynon

LAERTES, father of Ulysses

LAESTRYGONIANS, savages attacking Ulysses

LAIUS, King of Thebes

LAMA, holy man of Thibet

LAMPETIA, daughter of Hyperion LAOC'OON, a priest of Neptune, in Troy,
who warned the Trojans against the Wooden Horse (which See), but when
two serpents came out of the sea and strangled him and his two sons,
the people listened to the Greek spy Sinon, and brought the fatal Horse
into the town

LAODAMIA, daughter of Acastus and wife of Protesilaus

LAODEGAN, King of Carmalide, helped by Arthur and Merlin

LAOMEDON, King of Troy

LAPITHAE, Thessalonians, whose king had invited the Centaurs to his
daughter's wedding but who attacked them for offering violence to the
bride

LARES, household deities

LARKSPUR, flower from the blood of Ajax

LATINUS, ruler of Latium, where Aeneas landed in Italy

LATMOS, Mount, where Diana fell in love with Endymion

LATONA, mother of Apollo

LAUNCELOT, the most famous knight of the Round Table

LAUSUS, son of Mezentius, killed by Aeneas

LAVINIA, daughter of Latinus and wife of Aeneas

LAVINIUM, Italian city named for Lavinia

LAW, See THEMIS

LEANDER, a youth of Abydos, who, swimming the Hellespont to see Hero,
his love, was drowned

LEBADEA, site of the oracle of Trophomus

LEBYNTHOS, Aegean island

LEDA, Queen of Sparta, wooed by Jupiter in the form of a swan

LEIR, mythical King of Britain, original of Shakespeare's Lear

LELAPS, dog of Cephalus

LEMNOS, large island in the Aegean Sea, sacred to Vulcan

LEMURES, the spectres or spirits of the dead

LEO, Roman emperor, Greek prince

LETHE, river of Hades, drinking whose water caused forgetfulness

LEUCADIA, a promontory, whence Sappho, disappointed in love, was said
to have thrown herself into the sea

LEUCOTHEA, a sea goddess, invoked by sailors for protection (See Ino)

LEWIS, son of Charlemagne

LIBER, ancient god of fruitfulness

LIBETHRA, burial place of Orpheus

LIBYA, Greek name for continent of Africa in general

LIBYAN DESERT, in Africa

LIBYAN OASIS

LICHAS, who brought the shirt of Nessus to Hercules

LIMOURS, Earl of

LINUS, musical instructor of Hercules

LIONEL, knight of the Round Table

LLYR, King of Britain

LOCRINE, son of Brutus in Albion, king of Central England

LOEGRIA, kingdom of (England)

LOGESTILLA, a wise lady, who entertained Rogero and his friends

LOGI, who vanquished Loki in an eating contest

LOKI, the Satan of Norse mythology, son of the giant Farbanti

LOT, King, a rebel chief, subdued by King Arthur, then a loyal knight

LOTIS, a nymph, changed to a lotus-plant and in that form plucked by
Dryope

LOTUS EATERS, soothed to indolence, companions of Ulysses landing among
them lost all memory of home and had to be dragged away before they
would continue their voyage

LOVE (Eros) issued from egg of Night, and with arrows and torch
produced life and joy

LUCAN, one of Arthur's knights

Lucius Tiberius, Roman procurator in Britain demanding tribute from
Arthur

LUD, British king, whose capital was called Lud's Town (London)

LUDGATE, city gate where Lud was buried, 387

LUNED, maiden who guided Owain to the Lady of the Fountain

LYCAHAS, a turbulent sailor

LYCAON, son of Priam

LYCIA, a district in Southern Asia Minor

LYCOMODES, king of the Dolopians, who treacherously slew Theseus

LYCUS, usurping King of Thebes

LYNCEUS, one of the sons of Aegyptus


M

MABINOGEON, plural of Mabinogi, fairy tales and romances of the Welsh

MABON, son of Modron

MACHAON, son of Aesculapius

MADAN, son of Guendolen

MADOC, a forester of King Arthur

MADOR, Scottish knight

MAELGAN, king who imprisoned Elphin

MAEONIA, ancient Lydia

MAGI, Persian priests

MAHADEVA, same as Siva

MAHOMET, great prophet of Arabia, born in Mecca, 571 AD, proclaimed
worship of God instead of idols, spread his religion through disciples
and then by force till it prevailed, with Arabian dominion, over vast
regions in Asia, Africa, and Spain in Europe

MAIA, daughter of Atlas and Pleione, eldest and most beautiful of the
Pleiades

MALAGIGI the Enchanter, one of Charlemagne's knights

MALEAGANS, false knight

MALVASIUS, King of Iceland

MAMBRINO, with invisible helmet

MANAWYD DAN, brother of King Vran, of London

MANDRICARDO, son of Agrican

MANTUA, in Italy, birthplace of Virgil

MANU, ancestor of mankind

MARATHON, where Theseus and Pirithous met

MARK, King of Cornwall, husband of Isoude the Fair

MARO See VIRGIL

MARPHISA, sister of Rogero

MARSILIUS, Spanish king, treacherous foe of Charlemagne

MARSYAS, inventor of the flute, who challenged Apollo to musical
competition, and, defeated, was flayed alive

MATSYA, the Fish, first avatar of Vishnu

MEANDER, Grecian river

MEDE, A, princess and sorceress who aided Jason

MEDORO, a young Moor, who wins Angelica

MEDUSA, one of the Gorgons

MEGAERA, one of the Furies

MELAMPUS, a Spartan dog, the first mortal endowed with prophetic powers

MELANTHUS, steersman for Bacchus

MELEAGER, one of the Argonauts (See Althaea)

MELIADUS, King of Lionesse, near Cornwall

MELICERTES, infant son of Ino. changed to Palaemon (See Ino, Leucothea,
and Palasmon)

MELISSA, priestess at Merlin's tomb

MELISSEUS, a Cretan king

MELPOMENE, one of the Muses

MEMNON, the beautiful son of Tithonus and Eos (Aurora), and king of the
Ethiopians, slain in Trojan War

MEMPHIS, Egyptian city

MENELAUS, son of King of Sparta, husband of Helen

MENOECEUS, son of Creon, voluntary victim in war to gain success for
his father

MENTOR, son of Alcimus and a faithful friend of Ulysses

MERCURY (See HERMES)

MERLIN, enchanter

MEROPE, daughter of King of Chios, beloved by Orion

MESMERISM, likened to curative oracle of Aesculapius at Epidaurus

METABUS, father of Camilla

METAMORPHOSES, Ovid's poetical legends of mythical transformations, a
large source of our knowledge of classic mythology

METANIRA, a mother, kind to Ceres seeking Proserpine

METEMPSYCHOSIS, transmigration of souls--rebirth of dying men and women
in forms of animals or human beings

METIS, Prudence, a spouse of Jupiter

MEZENTIUS, a brave but cruel soldier, opposing Aeneas in Italy

MIDAS

MIDGARD, the middle world of the Norsemen

MIDGARD SERPENT, a sea monster, child of Loki

MILKY WAY, starred path across the sky, believed to be road to palace
of the gods

MILO, a great athlete

MLON, father of Orlando

MILTON, John, great English poet, whose History of England is here
largely used

MIME, one of the chief dwarfs of ancient German mythology

MINERVA (Athene), daughter of Jupiter, patroness of health, learning,
and wisdom

MINOS, King of Crete

MINO TAUR, monster killed by Theseus

MISTLETOE, fatal to Baldur

MNEMOSYNE, one of the Muses

MODESTY, statue to

MODRED, nephew of King Arthur

MOLY, plant, powerful against sorcery

MOMUS, a deity whose delight was to jeer bitterly at gods and men

MONAD, the "unit" of Pythagoras

MONSTERS, unnatural beings, evilly disposed to men

MONTALBAN, Rinaldo's castle

MONTH, the, attendant upon the Sun

MOON, goddess of, see DIANA

MORAUNT, knight, an Irish champion

MORGANA, enchantress, the Lady of the Lake in "Orlando Furioso," same
as Morgane Le Fay in tales of Arthur

MORGANE LE FAY, Queen of Norway, King Arthur's sister, an enchantress

MORGAN TUD, Arthur's chief physician

MORPHEUS, son of Sleep and god of dreams

MORTE D'ARTHUr, romance, by Sir Thomas Mallory

MULCIBER, Latin name of Vulcan

MULL, Island of

MUNIN, one of Odin's two ravens

MUSAEUS, sacred poet, son of Orpheus

MUSES, The, nine goddesses presiding over poetry, etc--Calliope, epic
poetry, Clio, history, Erato, love poetry, Euterpe, lyric poetry;
Melpomene, tragedy, Polyhymnia, oratory and sacred song Terpsichore,
choral song and dance, Thalia, comedy and idyls, Urania, astronomy

MUSPELHEIM, the fire world of the Norsemen

MYCENAS, ancient Grecian city, of which Agamemnon was king

MYRDDIN (Merlin)

MYRMIDONS, bold soldiers of Achilles

MYSIA, Greek district on northwest coast of Asia Minor

MYTHOLOGY, origin of, collected myths, describing gods of early peoples


N

NAIADS, water nymphs

NAMO, Duke of Bavaria, one of Charlemagne's knights

NANNA, wife of Baldur

NANTERS, British king

NANTES, site of Caradoc's castle

NAPE, a dog of Diana

NARCISSUS, who died of unsatisfied love for his own image in the water

NAUSICAA, daughter of King Alcinous, who befriended Ulysses

NAUSITHOUS, king of Phaeacians

NAXOS, Island of

NEGUS, King of Abyssinia

NEMEA, forest devastated by a lion killed by Hercules

NEMEAN GAMES, held in honor of Jupiter and Hercules

NEMEAN LION, killed by Hercules

NEMESIS, goddess of vengeance

NENNIUS, British combatant of Caesar

NEOPTOLEMUS, son of Achilles

NEPENTHE, ancient drug to cause forgetfulness of pain or distress

NEPHELE, mother of Phryxus and Helle

NEPHTHYS, Egyptian goddess

NEPTUNE, identical with Poseidon, god of the sea

NEREIDS, sea nymphs, daughters of Nereus and Doris

NEREUS, a sea god

NESSUS, a centaur killed by Hercules, whose jealous wife sent him a
robe or shirt steeped in the blood of Nessus, which poisoned him

NESTOR, king of Pylos, renowned for his wisdom, justice, and knowledge
of war

NIBELUNGEN HOARD, treasure seized by Siegfried from the Nibelungs,
buried in the Rhine by Hagan after killing Siegfried, and lost when
Hagan was killed by Kriemhild, theme of Wagner's four music dramas,
"The Ring of the Nibelungen,"

NIBELUNGEN LIED, German epic, giving the same nature myth as the Norse
Volsunga Saga, concerning the Hoard

NIBELUNGEN RING, Wagner's music dramas

NIBELUNGS, the, a race of Northern dwarfs

NIDHOGGE, a serpent in the lower world that lives on the dead

NIFFLEHEIM, mist world of the Norsemen, the Hades of absent spirits

NILE, Egyptian river

NIOBE, daughter of Tantalus, proud Queen of Thebes, whose seven sons
and seven daughters were killed by Apollo and Diana, at which Amphion,
her husband, killed himself, and Niobe wept until she was turned to
stone

NISUS, King of Megara

NOAH, as legendary ancestor of French, Roman, German, and British
peoples

NOMAN, name assumed by Ulysses

NORNS, the three Scandinavian Fates, Urdur (the past), Verdandi (the
present), and Skuld (the future)

NOTHUNG, magic sword

NOTUS, southwest wind

NOX, daughter of Chaos and sister of Erebus, personification of night

Numa, second king of Rome

NYMPHS, beautiful maidens, lesser divinities of nature Dryads and
Hamadryads, tree nymphs, Naiads, spring, brook, and river nymphs,
Nereids, sea nymphs Oreads, mountain nymphs or hill nymphs


O

OCEANUS, a Titan, ruling watery elements

OCYROE, a prophetess, daughter of Chiron

ODERIC

ODIN, chief of the Norse gods

ODYAR, famous Biscayan hero

ODYSSEUS See ULYSSES

ODYSSEY, Homer's poem, relating the wanderings of Odysseus (Ulysses) on
returning from Trojan War

OEDIPUS, Theban hero, who guessed the riddle of the Sphinx (which See),
becoming King of Thebes

OENEUS, King of Calydon

OENONE, nymph, married by Paris in his youth, and abandoned for Helen

OENOPION, King of Chios

OETA, Mount, scene of Hercules' death

OGIER, the Dane, one of the paladins of Charlemagne

OLIVER, companion of Orlando

OLWEN, wife of Kilwich

OLYMPIA, a small plain in Elis, where the Olympic games were celebrated

OLYMPIADS, periods between Olympic games (four years)

OLYMPIAN GAMES, See GAMES

OLYMPUS, dwelling place of the dynasty of gods of which Zeus was the
head

OMPHALE, queen of Lydia, daughter of Iardanus and wife of Tmolus

OPHION, king of the Titans, who ruled Olympus till dethroned by the
gods Saturn and Rhea

OPS See RHEA

ORACLES, answers from the gods to questions from seekers for knowledge
or advice for the future, usually in equivocal form, so as to fit any
event, also places where such answers were given forth usually by a
priest or priestess

ORC, a sea monster, foiled by Rogero when about to devour Angelica

OREADS, nymphs of mountains and hills

ORESTES, son of Agamemnon and Clytemnestra, because of his crime in
killing his mother, he was pursued by the Furies until purified by
Minerva

ORION, youthful giant, loved by Diana, Constellation

ORITHYIA, a nymph, seized by Boreas

ORLANDO, a famous knight and nephew of Charlemagne

ORMUZD (Greek, Oromasdes), son of Supreme Being, source of good as his
brother Ahriman (Arimanes) was of evil, in Persian or Zoroastrian
religion

ORPHEUS, musician, son of Apollo and Calliope, See EURYDICE

OSIRIS, the most beneficent of the Egyptian gods

OSSA, mountain of Thessaly

OSSIAN, Celtic poet of the second or third century

OVID, Latin poet (See Metamorphoses)

OWAIN, knight at King Arthur's court

OZANNA, a knight of Arthur


P

PACTOLUS, river whose sands were changed to gold by Midas

PAEON, a name for both Apollo and Aesculapius, gods of medicine.

PAGANS, heathen

PALADINS or peers, knights errant

PALAEMON, son of Athamas and Ino

PALAMEDES, messenger sent to call Ulysses to the Trojan War

PALAMEDES, Saracen prince at Arthur's court

PALATINE, one of Rome's Seven Hills

PALES, goddess presiding over cattle and pastures

PALINURUS, faithful steersman of Aeeas

PALLADIUM, properly any image of Pallas Athene, but specially applied
to an image at Troy, which was stolen by Ulysses and Diomedes

PALLAS, son of Evander

PALLAS A THE'NE (Minerva)

PAMPHA GUS, a dog of Diana

PAN, god of nature and the universe

PANATHENAEA, festival in honor of Pallas Athene (Minerva)

PANDEAN PIPES, musical instrument of reeds, made by Pan in memory of
Syrinx

PANDORA (all gifted), first woman, dowered with gifts by every god, yet
entrusted with a box she was cautioned not to open, but, curious, she
opened it, and out flew all the ills of humanity, leaving behind only
Hope, which remained

PANDRASUS, a king in Greece, who persecuted Trojan exiles under Brutus,
great grandson of Aeneas, until they fought, captured him, and, with
his daughter Imogen as Brutus' wife, emigrated to Albion (later called
Britain)

PANOPE, plain of

PANTHUS, alleged earlier incarnation of Pythagoras

PAPHLAGNIA, ancient country in Asia Minor, south of Black Sea

PAPHOS, daughter of Pygmalion and Galatea (both of which, See)

PARCAE See FATES

PARIAHS, lowest caste of Hindus

PARIS, son of Priam and Hecuba, who eloped with Helen (which. See)

PARNASSIAN LAUREl, wreath from Parnassus, crown awarded to successful
poets

PARNASSUS, mountain near Delphi, sacred to Apollo and the Muses

PARSEES, Persian fire worshippers (Zoroastrians), of whom there are
still thousands in Persia and India

PARTHENON, the temple of Athene Parthenos ("the Virgin") on the
Acropolis of Athens

PASSEBREUL, Tristram's horse

PATROCLUS, friend of Achilles, killed by Hector

PECHEUR, King, uncle of Perceval

PEERS, the

PEG A SUS, winged horse, born from the sea foam and the blood of Medusa

PELEUS, king of the Myrmidons, father of Achilles by Thetis

PELIAS, usurping uncle of Jason

PELION, mountain

PELLEAS, knight of Arthur

PENATES, protective household deities of the Romans

PENDRAGON, King of Britain, elder brother of Uther Pendragon, who
succeeded him

PENELOPE, wife of Ulysses, who, waiting twenty years for his return
from the Trojan War, put off the suitors for her hand by promising to
choose one when her weaving was done, but unravelled at night what she
had woven by day

PENEUS, river god, river

PENTHESILEA, queen of Amazons

PENTHEUS, king of Thebes, having resisted the introduction of the
worship of Bacchus into his kingdom, was driven mad by the god

PENUS, Roman house pantry, giving name to the Penates

PEPIN, father of Charlemagne

PEPLUS, sacred robe of Minerva

PERCEVAL, a great knight of Arthur

PERDIX, inventor of saw and compasses

PERIANDER, King of Corinuh, friend of Arion

PERIPHETES, son of Vulcan, killed by Theseus

PERSEPHONE, goddess of vegetation, 8 See Pioserpine

PERSEUS, son of Jupiter and Danae, slayer of the Gorgon Medusa,
deliverer of Andromeda from a sea monster, 116 122, 124, 202

PHAEACIANS, people who entertained Ulysses

PHAEDRA, faithless and cruel wife of Theseus

PHAETHUSA, sister of Phaeton, 244

PHAETON, son of Phoebus, who dared attempt to drive his father's sun
chariot

PHANTASOS, a son of Somnus, bringing strange images to sleeping men

PHAON, beloved by Sappho

PHELOT, knight of Wales

PHEREDIN, friend of Tristram, unhappy lover of Isoude

PHIDIAS, famous Greek sculptor

PHILEMON, husband of Baucis

PHILOCTETES, warrior who lighted the fatal pyre of Hercules

PHILOE, burial place of Osiris

PHINEUS, betrothed to Andromeda

PHLEGETHON, fiery river of Hades

PHOCIS

PHOEBE, one of the sisters of Phaeton

PHOEBUS (Apollo), god of music, prophecy, and archery, the sun god

PHOENIX, a messenger to Achilles, also, a miraculous bird dying in fire
by its own act and springing up alive from its own ashes

PHORBAS, a companion of Aeneas, whose form was assumed by Neptune in
luring Palinuras the helmsman from his roost

PHRYXUS, brother of Helle

PINABEL, knight

PILLARS OF HERCULES, two mountains--Calpe, now the Rock of Gibraltar,
southwest corner of Spain in Europe, and Abyla, facing it in Africa
across the strait

PINDAR, famous Greek poet

PINDUS, Grecian mountain

PIRENE, celebrated fountain at Corinth

PIRITHOUS, king of the Lapithae in Thessaly, and friend of Theseus,
husband of Hippodamia

PLEASURE, daughter of Cupid and Psyche

PLEIADES, seven of Diana's nymphs, changed into stars, one being lost

PLENTY, the Horn of

PLEXIPPUS, brother of Althea

PLINY, Roman naturalist

PLUTO, the same as Hades, Dis, etc. god of the Infernal Regions

PLUTUS, god of wealth

PO, Italian river

POLE STAR

POLITES, youngest son of Priam of Troy

POLLUX, Castor and (Dioscuri, the Twins) (See Castor)

POLYDECTES, king of Seriphus

POLYDORE, slain kinsman of Aeneas, whose blood nourished a bush that
bled when broken

POLYHYMNIA, Muse of oratory and sacred song

POLYIDUS, soothsayer

POLYNICES, King of Thebes

POLYPHEMUS, giant son of Neptune

POLYXENA, daughter of King Priam of Troy

POMONA, goddess of fruit trees (See VERTUMNUS)

PORREX and FER'REX, sons of Leir, King of Britain

PORTUNUS, Roman name for Palaemon

POSEIDON (Neptune), ruler of the ocean

PRECIPICE, threshold of Helas hall

PRESTER JOHN, a rumored priest or presbyter, a Christian pontiff in
Upper Asia, believed in but never found

PRIAM, king of Troy

PRIWEN, Arthur's shield

PROCRIS, beloved but jealous wife of Cephalus

PROCRUSTES, who seized travellers and bound them on his iron bed,
stretching the short ones and cutting short the tall, thus also himself
served by Theseus

PROETUS, jealous of Bellerophon

PROMETHEUS, creator of man, who stole fire from heaven for man's use

PROSERPINE, the same as Persephone, goddess of all growing things,
daughter of Ceres, carried off by Pluto

PROTESILAUS, slain by Hector the Trojan, allowed by the gods to return
for three hours' talk with his widow Laodomia

PROTEUS, the old man of the sea

PRUDENCE (Metis), spouse of Jupiter

PRYDERI, son of Pwyll

PSYCHE, a beautiful maiden, personification of the human soul, sought
by Cupid (Love), to whom she responded, lost him by curiosity to see
him (as he came to her only by night), but finally through his prayers
was made immortal and restored to him, a symbol of immortality

PURANAS, Hindu Scriptures

PWYLL, Prince of Dyved

PYGMALION, sculptor in love with a statue he had made, brought to life
by Venus, brother of Queen Dido

PYGMIES, nation of dwarfs, at war with the Cranes

PYLADES, son of Straphius, friend of Orestes

PYRAMUS, who loved Thisbe, next door neighbor, and, their parents
opposing, they talked through cracks in the house wall, agreeing to
meet in the near by woods, where Pyramus, finding a bloody veil and
thinking Thisbe slain, killed himself, and she, seeing his body, killed
herself (Burlesqued in Shakespeare's "Midsummer Night's Dream")

PYRRHA, wife of Deucalion

PYRRHUS (Neoptolemus), son of Achilles

PYTHAGORAS, Greek philosopher (540 BC), who thought numbers to be the
essence and principle of all things, and taught transmigration of souls
of the dead into new life as human or animal beings

PYTHIA, priestess of Apollo at Delphi

PYTHIAN GAMES

PYTHIAN ORACLE

PYTHON, serpent springing from Deluge slum, destroyed by Apollo


Q

QUIRINUS (from quiris, a lance or spear), a war god, said to be
Romulus, founder of Rome


R

RABICAN, noted horse

RAGNAROK, the twilight (or ending) of the gods

RAJPUTS, minor Hindu caste

REGAN, daughter of Leir

REGILLUS, lake in Latium, noted for battle fought near by between the
Romans and the Latins

REGGIO, family from which Rogero sprang

REMUS, brother of Romulus, founder of Rome

RHADAMANTHUS, son of Jupiter and Europa after his death one of the
judges in the lower world

RHAPSODIST, professional reciter of poems among the Greeks

RHEA, female Titan, wife of Saturn (Cronos), mother of the chief gods,
worshipped in Greece and Rome

RHINE, river

RHINE MAIDENS, OR DAUGHTERS, three water nymphs, Flosshilda, Woglinda,
and Wellgunda, set to guard the Nibelungen Hoard, buried in the Rhine

RHODES, one of the seven cities claiming to be Homer's birthplace

RHODOPE, mountain in Thrace

RHONGOMYANT, Arthur's lance

RHOECUS, a youth, beloved by a Dryad, but who brushed away a bee sent
by her to call him to her, and she punished him with blindness

RHIANNON, wife of Pwyll

RINALDO, one of the bravest knights of Charlemagne

RIVER OCEAN, flowing around the earth

ROBERT DE BEAUVAIS', Norman poet (1257)

ROBIN HOOD, famous outlaw in English legend, about time of Richard
Coeur de Lion

ROCKINGHAM, forest of

RODOMONT, king of Algiers

ROGERO, noted Saracen knight

ROLAND (Orlando), See Orlando

ROMANCES

ROMANUS, legendary great grandson of Noah

ROME

ROMULUS, founder of Rome

RON, Arthur's lance

RONCES VALLES', battle of

ROUND TABLE King Arthur's instituted by Merlin the Sage for Pendragon,
Arthur's father, as a knightly order, continued and made famous by
Arthur and his knights

RUNIC CHARACTERS, or runes, alphabetic signs used by early Teutonic
peoples, written or graved on metal or stone

RUTULIANS, an ancient people in Italy, subdued at an early period by
the Romans

RYENCE, king in Ireland


S

SABRA, maiden for whom Severn River was named, daughter of Locrine and
Estrildis thrown into river Severn by Locrine's wife, transformed to a
river nymph, poetically named Sabrina

SACRIPANT, king of Circassia

SAFFIRE, Sir, knight of Arthur

SAGAS, Norse tales of heroism, composed by the Skalds

SAGRAMOUR, knight of Arthur

St. MICHAEL'S MOUNT, precipitous pointed rock hill on the coast of
Brittany, opposite Cornwall

SAKYASINHA, the Lion, epithet applied to Buddha

SALAMANDER, a lizard like animal, fabled to be able to live in fire

SALAMIS, Grecian city

SALMONEUS, son of Aeolus and Enarete and brother of Sisyphus

SALOMON, king of Brittany, at Charlemagne's court

SAMHIN, or "fire of peace," a Druidical festival

SAMIAN SAGE (Pythagoras)

SAMOS, island in the Aegean Sea

SAMOTHRACIAN GODS, a group of agricultural divinities, worshipped in
Samothrace

SAMSON, Hebrew hero, thought by some to be original of Hercules

SAN GREAL (See Graal, the Holy)

SAPPHO, Greek poetess, who leaped into the sea from promontory of
Leucadia in disappointed love for Phaon

SARACENS, followers of Mahomet

SARPEDON, son of Jupiter and Europa, killed by Patroclus

SATURN (Cronos)

SATURNALIA, a annual festival held by Romans in honor of Saturn

SATURNIA, an ancient name of Italy

SATYRS, male divinities of the forest, half man, half goat

SCALIGER, famous German scholar of 16th century

SCANDINAVIA, mythology of, giving account of Northern gods, heroes, etc

SCHERIA, mythical island, abode of the Phaeacians

SCHRIMNIR, the boar, cooked nightly for the heroes of Valhalla becoming
whole every morning

SCIO, one of the island cities claiming to be Homer's birthplace

SCOPAS, King of Thessaly

SCORPION, constellation

SCYLLA, sea nymph beloved by Glaucus, but changed by jealous Circe to a
monster and finally to a dangerous rock on the Sicilian coast, facing
the whirlpool Charybdis, many mariners being wrecked between the two,
also, daughter of King Nisus of Megara, who loved Minos, besieging her
father's city, but he disliked her disloyalty and drowned her, also, a
fair virgin of Sicily, friend of sea nymph Galatea

SCYROS, where Theseus was slain

SCYTHIA, country lying north of Euxine Sea

SEMELE, daughter of Cadmus and, by Jupiter, mother of Bacchus

SEMIRAMIS, with Ninus the mythical founder of the Assyrian empire of
Nineveh

SENAPUS, King of Abyssinia, who entertained Astolpho

SERAPIS, or Hermes, Egyptian divinity of Tartarus and of medicine

SERFS, slaves of the land

SERIPHUS, island in the Aegean Sea, one of the Cyclades

SERPENT (Northern constellation)

SESTOS, dwelling of Hero (which See also Leander)

"SEVEN AGAINST THEBES," famous Greek expedition

SEVERN RIVER, in England

SEVINUS, Duke of Guienne

SHALOTT, THE LADY OF

SHATRIYA, Hindu warrior caste

SHERASMIN, French chevalier

SIBYL, prophetess of Cumae

SICHAEUS, husband of Dido

SEIGE PERILOUS, the chair of purity at Arthur's Round Table, fatal to
any but him who was destined to achieve the quest of the Sangreal (See
Galahad)

SIEGFRIED, young King of the Netherlands, husband of Kriemhild, she
boasted to Brunhild that Siegfried had aided Gunther to beat her in
athletic contests, thus winning her as wife, and Brunhild, in anger,
employed Hagan to murder Siegfried. As hero of Wagner's "Valkyrie," he
wins the Nibelungen treasure ring, loves and deserts Brunhild, and is
slain by Hagan

SIEGLINDA, wife of Hunding, mother of Siegfried by Siegmund

SIEGMUND, father of Siegfried

SIGTRYG, Prince, betrothed of King Alef's daughter, aided by Hereward

SIGUNA, wife of Loki

SILENUS, a Satyr, school master of Bacchus

SILURES (South Wales)

SILVIA, daughter of Latin shepherd

SILVIUS, grandson of Aeneas, accidentally killed in the chase by his
son Brutus

SIMONIDES, an early poet of Greece

SINON, a Greek spy, who persuaded the Trojans to take the Wooden Horse
into their city

SIRENS, sea nymphs, whose singing charmed mariners to leap into the
sea, passing their island, Ulysses stopped the ears of his sailors with
wax, and had himself bound to the mast so that he could hear but not
yield to their music

SIRIUS, the dog of Orion, changed to the Dog star

SISYPHUS, condemned in Tartarus to perpetually roll up hill a big rock
which, when the top was reached, rolled down again

SIVA, the Destroyer, third person of the Hindu triad of gods

SKALDS, Norse bards and poets

SKIDBLADNIR, Freyr's ship

SKIRNIR, Frey's messenger, who won the god's magic sword by getting him
Gerda for his wife

SKRYMIR, a giant, Utgard Loki in disguise, who fooled Thor in athletic
feats

SKULD, the Norn of the Future

SLEEP, twin brother of Death

SLEIPNIR, Odin's horse

SOBRINO, councillor to Agramant

SOMNUS, child of Nox, twin brother of Mors, god of sleep

SOPHOCLES, Greek tragic dramatist

SOUTH WIND See Notus

SPAR'TA, capital of Lacedaemon

SPHINX, a monster, waylaying the road to Thebes and propounding riddles
to all passers, on pain of death, for wrong guessing, who killed
herself in rage when Aedipus guessed aright

SPRING

STONEHENGE, circle of huge upright stones, fabled to be sepulchre of
Pendragon

STROPHIUS, father of Pylades

STYGIAN REALM, Hades

STYGIAN SLEEP, escaped from the beauty box sent from Hades to Venus by
hand of Psyche, who curiously opened the box and was plunged into
unconsciousness

STYX, river, bordering Hades, to be crossed by all the dead

SUDRAS, Hindu laboring caste

SURTUR, leader of giants against the gods in the day of their
destruction (Norse mythology)

SURYA, Hindu god of the sun, corresponding to the Greek Helios

SUTRI, Orlando's birthplace

SVADILFARI, giant's horse

SWAN, LEDA AND

SYBARIS, Greek city in Southern Italy, famed for luxury

SYLVANUS, Latin divinity identified with Pan

SYMPLEGADES, floating rocks passed by the Argonauts

SYRINX, nymph, pursued by Pan, but escaping by being changed to a bunch
of reeds (See Pandean pipes)


T

TACITUS, Roman historian

TAENARUS, Greek entrance to lower regions

TAGUS, river in Spain and Portugal

TALIESIN, Welsh bard

TANAIS, ancient name of river Don

TANTALUS, wicked king, punished in Hades by standing in water that
retired when he would drink, under fruit trees that withdrew when he
would eat

TARCHON, Etruscan chief

TARENTUM, Italian city

TARPEIAN ROCK, in Rome, from which condemned criminals were hurled

TARQUINS, a ruling family in early Roman legend

TAURIS, Grecian city, site of temple of Diana (See Iphigenia)

TAURUS, a mountain

TARTARUS, place of confinement of Titans, etc, originally a black abyss
below Hades later, represented as place where the wicked were punished,
and sometimes the name used as synonymous with Hades

TEIRTU, the harp of

TELAMON, Greek hero and adventurer, father of Ajax

TELEMACHUS, son of Ulysses and Penelope

TELLUS, another name for Rhea

TENEDOS, an island in Aegean Sea

TERMINUS, Roman divinity presiding over boundaries and frontiers

TERPSICHORE, Muse of dancing

TERRA, goddess of the earth

TETHYS, goddess of the sea

TEUCER, ancient king of the Trojans

THALIA, one of the three Graces

THAMYRIS, Thracian bard, who challenged the Muses to competition in
singing, and, defeated, was blinded

THAUKT, Loki disguised as a hag

THEBES, city founded by Cadmus and capital of Boeotia

THEMIS, female Titan, law counsellor of Jove

THEODORA, sister of Prince Leo

THERON, one of Diana's dogs

THERSITES, a brawler, killed by Achilles

THESCELUS, foe of Perseus, turned to stone by sight of Gorgon's head

THESEUM, Athenian temple in honor of Theseus

THESEUS, son of Aegeus and Aethra, King of Athens, a great hero of many
adventures

THESSALY

THESTIUS, father of Althea

THETIS, mother of Achilles

THIALFI, Thor's servant

THIS'BE, Babylonian maiden beloved by Pyramus

THOR, the thunderer, of Norse mythology, most popular of the gods

THRACE

THRINA'KIA, island pasturing Hyperion's cattle, where Ulysses landed,
but, his men killing some cattle for food, their ship was wrecked by
lightning

THRYM, giant, who buried Thor's hammer

THUCYDIDES, Greek historian

TIBER, river flowing through Rome

TIBER, FATHER, god of the river

TIGRIS, river

TINTADEL, castle of, residence of King Mark of Cornwall

TIRESIAS, a Greek soothsayer

TISIPHONE, one of the Furies

TITANS, the sons and daughters of Uranus (Heaven) and Gaea (Earth),
enemies of the gods and overcome by them

TITHONUS, Trojan prince

TITYUS, giant in Tartarus

TMOLUS, a mountain god

TORTOISE, second avatar of Vishnu

TOURS, battle of (See Abdalrahman and Charles Martel)

TOXEUS, brother of Melauger's mother, who snatched from Atalanta her
hunting trophy, and was slain by Melauger, who had awarded it to her

TRIAD, the Hindu

TRIADS, Welsh poems

TRIMURTI, Hindu Triad

TRIPTOL'EMUS, son of Celeus , and who, made great by Ceres, founded her
worship in Eleusis

TRISTRAM, one of Arthur's knights, husband of Isoude of the White
Hands, lover of Isoude the Fair.

TRITON, a demi god of the sea, son of Poseidon (Neptune) and Amphitrite

TROEZEN, Greek city of Argolis

TROJAN WAR

TROJANOVA, New Troy, City founded in Britain (See Brutus, and Lud)

TROPHONIUS, oracle of, in Boeotia

TROUBADOURS, poets and minstrels of Provence, in Southern France

TROUVERS', poets and minstrels of Northern France

TROY, city in Asia Minor, ruled by King Priam, whose son, Paris, stole
away Helen, wife of Menelaus the Greek, resulting in the Trojan War and
the destruction of Troy

TROY, fall of

TURNUS, chief of the Rutulianes in Italy, unsuccessful rival of Aeneas
for Lavinia

TURPIN, Archbishop of Rheims

TURQUINE, Sir, a great knight, foe of Arthur, slain by Sir Launcelot

TYPHON, one of the giants who attacked the gods, were defeated, and
imprisoned under Mt. Aetna

TYR, Norse god of battles

TYRE, Phoenician city governed by Dido

TYRIANS

TYRRHEUS, herdsman of King Turnus in Italy, the slaying of whose
daughter's stag aroused war upon Aeneas and his companions


U

UBERTO, son of Galafron

ULYSSES (Greek, Odysseus), hero of the Odyssey

UNICORN, fabled animal with a single horn

URANIA, one of the Muses, a daughter of Zeus by Mnemosyne

URDUR, one of the Norns or Fates of Scandinavia, representing the Past

USK, British river

UTGARD, abode of the giant Utgard Loki

UTGARD LO'KI, King of the Giants (See Skrymir)

UTHER (Uther Pendragon), king of Britain and father of Arthur.

UWAINE, knight of Arthur's court


V

VAISSYAS, Hindu caste of agriculturists and traders

VALHALLA, hall of Odin, heavenly residence of slain heroes

VALKYRIE, armed and mounted warlike virgins, daughters of the gods
(Norse), Odin's messengers, who select slain heroes for Valhalla and
serve them at their feasts

VE, brother of Odin

VEDAS, Hindu sacred Scriptures

VENEDOTIA, ancient name for North Wales

VENUS (Aphrodite), goddess of beauty

VENUS DE MEDICI, famous antique statue in Uffizi Gallery, Florence,
Italy

VERDANDI, the Present, one of the Norns

VERTUMNUS, god of the changing seasons, whose varied appearances won
the love of Pomona

VESTA, daughter of Cronos and Rhea, goddess of the homefire, or hearth

VESTALS, virgin priestesses in temple of Vesta

VESUVIUS, Mount, volcano near Naples

VILLAINS, peasants in the feudal scheme

VIGRID, final battle-field, with destruction of the gods ind their
enemies, the sun, the earth, and time itself

VILI, brother of Odin and Ve

VIRGIL, celebrated Latin poet (See Aeneid)

VIRGO, constellation of the Virgin, representing Astraea, goddess of
innocence and purity

VISHNU, the Preserver, second of the three chief Hindu gods

VIVIANE, lady of magical powers, who allured the sage Merlin and
imprisoned him in an enchanted wood

VOLSCENS, Rutulian troop leader who killed Nisus and Euryalus

VOLSUNG, A SAGA, an Icelandic poem, giving about the same legends as
the Nibelungen Lied

VORTIGERN, usurping King of Britain, defeated by Pendragon 390, 397

VULCAN (Greek, Haephestus), god of fire and metal working, with forges
under Aetna, husband of Venus

VYA'SA, Hindu sage


W

WAIN, the, constellation

WELLGUNDA, one of the Rhine-daughters.

WELSH LANGUAGE

WESTERN OCEAN

WINDS, THE

WINTER

WODEN, chief god in the Norse mythology, Anglo Saxon for Odin.

WOGLINDA, one of the Rhine-daughters.

WOMAN, creation of.

WOODEN HORSE, the, filled with armed men, but left outside of Troy as a
pretended offering to Minerva when the Greeks feigned to sail away,
accepted by the Trojans (See Sinon, and Laocoon), brought into the
city, and at night emptied of the hidden Greek soldiers, who destroyed
the town.

WOOD NYMPHS

WOTAN, Old High German form of Odin.


X

XANTHUS, river of Asia Minor.


Y

YAMA, Hindu god of the Infernal Regions.

YEAR, THE

YGDRASIL, great ash-tree, supposed by Norse mythology to support the
universe.

YMIR, giant, slain by Odin.

YNYWL, Earl, host of Geraint, father of Enid.

YORK, Britain.

YSERONE, niece of Arthur, mother of Caradoc.

YSPA DA DEN PEN'KAWR, father of Olwen.


Z

ZENDAVESTA, Persian sacred Scriptures.

ZEPHYRUS, god of the South wind.

ZERBINO, a knight, son of the king of Scotland.

ZETES, winged warrior, companion of Theseus.

ZETHUS, son of Jupiter and Antiope, brother of Amphion. See Dirce.

ZEUS, See JUPITER.

ZOROASTER, founder of the Persian religion, which was dominant in
Western Asia from about 550 BC to about 650 AD, and is still held by
many thousands in Persia and in India









End of Project Gutenberg's Legends of Charlemagne, by Thomas Bulfinch

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