Orlando Furioso | Page 7

such treasure slight?
And can I then my very life forego?
No! let me
die; 'twere happiness above
A longer life, if I must cease to love."
XLV
If any ask who made this sorrowing,
And pour'd into the
stream so many tears,
I answer, it was fair Circassia's king,
That
Sacripant, oppressed with amorous cares.
Love is the source from
which his troubles spring,
The sole occasion of his pains and fears;

And he to her a lover's service paid,
Now well remembered by the
royal maid.
XLVI
He for her sake from Orient's farthest reign
Roved thither,
where the sun descends to rest;
For he was told in India, to his pain,

That she Orlando followed to the west.
He after learned in France
that Charlemagne
Secluded from that champion and the rest,
As a
fit guerdon, mewed her for the knight
Who should protect the lilies
best in fight.

XLVII
The warrior in the field had been, and viewed,
Short time
before, king Charlemagne's disgrace;
And vainly had Angelica
pursued,
Nor of the damsel's footsteps found a trace.
And this is
what the weeping monarch rued,
And this he so bewailed in doleful
case:
Hence, into words his lamentations run,
Which might for pity
stop the passing sun.
XLVIII
While Sacripant laments him in this plight,
And makes a
tepid fountain of his eyes;
And, what I deem not needful to recite,

Pours forth yet other plaints and piteous cries;
Propitious Fortune will
his lady bright
Should hear the youth lament him in such wise:
And
thus a moment compassed what, without
Such chance, long ages had
not brought about.
XLIX
With deep attention, while the warrior weeps,
She marks the
fashion of the grief and tears
And words of him, whose passion never
sleeps;
Nor this the first confession which she hears.
But with his
plaint her heart no measure keeps,
Cold as the column which the
builder rears.
Like haughty maid, who holds herself above
The
world, and deems none worthy of her love.
L
But her from harm amid those woods to keep,
The damsel
weened she might his guidance need;
For the poor drowning caitiff,
who, chin-deep,
Implores not help, is obstinate indeed.
Nor will she,
if she let the occasion sleep,
Find escort that will stand her in such
stead:
For she that king by long experience knew
Above all other
lovers, kind and true.
LI
But not the more for this the maid intends
To heal the mischief
which her charms had wrought,
And for past ills to furnish glad
amends
In that full bliss by pining lover sought.
To keep the king in
play are all her ends,

His help by some device or fiction bought,

And having to her purpose taxed his daring,
To reassume as wont her
haughty bearing.

LII
An apparition bright and unforeseen,
She stood like Venus or
Diana fair,
In solemn pageant, issuing on the scene
From out of
shadowy wood or murky lair.
And "Peace be with you," cried the
youthful queen,
"And God preserve my honour in his care,
Nor
suffer that you blindly entertain
Opinion of my fame so false and
vain!"
LIII
Not with such wonderment a mother eyes,
With such
excessive bliss the son she mourned
As dead, lamented still with tears
and sighs,
Since the thinned files without her boy returned.
-- Not
such her rapture as the king's surprise
And ecstasy of joy when he
discerned
The lofty presence, cheeks of heavenly hue,
And lovely
form which broke upon his view.
LIV
He, full of fond and eager passion, pressed
Towards his Lady,
his Divinity;
And she now clasped the warrior to her breast,
Who in
Catay had haply been less free.
And now again the maid her thoughts
addressed
Towards her native land and empery:
And feels, with
hope revived, her bosom beat
Shortly to repossess her sumptuous
seat.
LV
Her chances all to him the damsel said,
Since he was eastward
sent to Sericane
By her to seek the martial monarch's aid,
Who
swayed the sceptre of that fair domain;
And told how oft Orlando's
friendly blade
Had saved her from dishonour, death, and pain;
And
how she so preserved her virgin flower
Pure as it blossomed in her
natal hour.
LVI
Haply the tale was true; yet will not seem
Likely to one of
sober sense possessed:
But Sacripant, who waked from worser dream,

In all without a cavil acquiesced:
Since love, who sees without one
guiding gleam,

Spies in broad day but that which likes him best:

For one sign of the afflicted man's disease
Is to give ready faith to
things which please.

LVII
"If good Anglante's lord the prize forbore,
Nor seized the fair
occasion when he might,
The loss be his, if Fortune never more

Him to enjoy so fair a prize invite.
To imitate that lord of little lore

I think not," said, apart, Circassa's knight.
"To quit such proffered
good, and, to my shame,
Have but myself on after-thought to blame.
LVIII
"No! I will pluck the fresh and morning rose,
Which, should
I tarry, may be overblown.
To woman, (this my own experience
shows),
No deed more sweet or welcome can be done.
Then,
whatsoever scorn the damsel shows,
Though she awhile may weep
and make her moan,
I will, unchecked by anger, false or true,
Or
sharp repulse, my bold design pursue."
LIX
This said, he for the soft assault prepares,
When a loud noise
within the