Читать книгу Orlando Furioso - Lodovico Ariosto - Страница 7

XLVIII

"Arrived beneath the craggy keep, the two

Contend which warrior shall begin the fight.

When, whether the first lot Gradasso drew,

Or young Rogero held the honor light,

The King of Sericane his bugle blew,

And the rock rang and fortress on the height;

And, lo! apparelled for the fearful course,

The cavalier upon his winged horse!

XLIX

"Upwards, by little and by little, springs

The winged courser, as the pilgrim crane

Finds not at first his balance and his wings,

Running and scarcely rising from the plain;

But when the flock is launched and scattered, flings

His pinions to the wind, and soars amain.

So straight the necromancer's upward flight,

The eagle scarce attempts so bold a height.

L

"When it seems fit, he wheels his courser round,

Who shuts his wings, and falling from the sky,

Shoots like a well trained falcon to the ground,

Who sees the quarry, duck or pigeon, fly:

So, through the parting air, with whizzing sound,

With rested lance, he darted from on high;

And while Gradasso scarcely marks the foe

He hears him swooping near, and feels the blow.

LI

"The wizard on Gradasso breaks his spear,

He wounds the empty air, with fury vain.

This in the feathered monster breeds no fear;

Who to a distance shifts, and swoops again.

While that encounter made the Alfana rear,

Thrown back upon her haunches, on the plain.

The Alfana that the Indian monarch rode,

The fairest was that ever man bestrode.

LII

"Up to the starry sphere with swift ascent

The wizard soars, then pounces from the sky,

And strikes the young Rogero, who, intent

Upon Gradasso, deems no danger nigh.

Beneath the wizard's blow the warrior bent,

Which made some deal his generous courser ply;

And when to smite the shifting foe he turned,

Him in the sky, and out of reach discerned.

LIII

"His blows Rogero, now Gradasso, bruise

On forehead, bosom, back, or flanks, between;

While he the warrior's empty blows eschews,

Shifting so quickly that he scarce is seen.

Now this, now that, the wizard seems to choose,

The monster makes such spacious rings and clean,

While the enchanter so deceives the knights,

They view him not, and know not whence he smites.

LIV

"Between the two on earth and him o' the sky,

Until that hour the warfare lasted there,

Which, spreading wide its veil of dusky dye,

Throughout the world, discolours all things fair.

What I beheld, I say; I add not, I,

A tittle to the tale; yet scarcely dare

To tell to other what I stood and saw;

So strange it seems, so passing Nature's law.

LV

"Well covered in a goodly silken case,

He, the celestial warrior, bore his shield;

But why delayed the mantle to displace

I know not, and its lucid orb concealed.

Since this no sooner blazes in his face,

Than his foe tumbles dazzled on the field;

And while he, like a lifeless body, lies,

Becomes the necromancer's helpless prize.

LVI

"LIke carbuncle, the magic buckler blazed,

No glare was ever seen which shone so bright:

Nor could the warriors choose but fall, amazed

And blinded by the clear and dazzling light.

I, too, that from a distant mountain gazed,

Fell senseless; and when I regained my sight,

After long time, saw neither knights nor page,

Nor aught beside a dark and empty stage.

LVII

"This while the fell enchanter, I supposed,

Dragged both the warriors to his prison-cell;

And by strange virtue of the shield disclosed,

I from my hope and they from freedom fell:

And thus I to the turrets, which enclosed

My heart, departing, bade a last farewell.

Now sum my griefs, and say if love combine

Other distress or grief to match with mine."

LVIII

The knight relapsed into his first disease,

After his melancholy tale was done.

This was Count Pinabel, the Maganzese,

Anselmo d'Altaripa's faithless son.

He, where the blood ran foul through all degrees,

Disdained to be the only virtuous one;

Nor played a simple part among the base,

Passing in vice the villains of his race.

LIX

With aspect changing still, the beauteous dame

Hears what the mournful Maganzese narrates;

And, at first mention of Rogero's name,

Her radiant face with eager joy dilates.

But, full of pity, kindles into flame

As Pinabel his cruel durance states.

Nor finds she, though twice told, the story stale;

But makes him oft repeat and piece his tale.

LX

And, after, when she deemed that all was clear,

Cried to the knight, "Repose upon my say.

To thee may my arrival well be dear,

And thou as fortunate account this day.

Straight wend me to the keep, sir cavalier,

Which holds a jewel of so rich a ray:

Nor shalt thou grudge thy labour and thy care,

If envious Fortune do but play me fair."

LXI

The knight replied, "Then nought to me remains

But that I yonder mountain-passes show;

And sure 'tis little loss to lose my pains,

Where every thing is lost I prize below.

But you would climb yon cliffs, and for your gains

Will find a prison-house, and be it so!

Whate'er betide you, blame yourself alone;

You go forewarned to meet a fate foreshown."

LXII

So said, the cavalier remounts his horse,

And serves the gallant damsel as a guide;

Who is prepared Rogero's gaol to force,

Or to be slain, or in his prison stied.

When lo! a messenger, in furious course,

Called to the dame to stay, and rode and cried.

This was the post who told Circassa's lord

What valiant hand had stretched him on the sward.

LXIII

The courier, who so plied his restless heel,

News of Narbonne and of Montpelier bore:

How both had raised the standard of Castile,

All Acquamorta siding with the Moor;

And how Marseilles' disheartened men appeal

To her, who should protect her straightened shore;

And how, through him, her citizens demand

Counsel and comfort at their captain's hand.

LXIV

This goodly town, with many miles of plain,

Which lie 'twixt Var and Rhone, upon the sea,

To her was given by royal Charlemagne:

Such trust he placed in her fidelity.

Still wont with wonder on the tented plain

The prowess of that valiant maid to see.

And now the panting courier, as I said,

Rode from Marseilles to ask the lady's aid.

LXV

Whether or not she should the call obey,

The youthful damsel doubts some little space;

Strong in one balance Fame and Duty weigh,

But softer thoughts both Fame and Duty chase:

And she, at length, resolved the emprize to assay,

And free Rogero from the enchanted place:

Or, should her valour in the adventure fail,

Would with the cherished lover share his jail.

LXVI

And did with such excuse that post appay,

He was contented on her will to wait:

Then turned the bridle to resume her way

With Pinabel, who seemed no whit elate.

Since of that line he knows the damsel gay,

Held in such open and such secret hate;

And future trouble to himself foresees,

Were he detected as a Maganzese.

LXVII

For 'twixt Maganza's and old Clermont's line

There was an ancient and a deadly feud:

And oft to blows the rival houses came,

And oft in civil blood their hands embrued.

And hence some treason to this gentle dame

In his foul heart, the wicked County brewed;

Or, as the first occasion served, would stray

Out of the road, and leave her by the way.

LXVIII

And so the traitor's troubled fancy rack

Fear, doubt, and his own native, rancorous mood,

That unawares he issued from the track,

And found himself within a gloomy wood:

Where a rough mountain reared its shaggy back,

Whose stony peak above the forest stood;

The daughter of Dodona's duke behind,

Dogging his footsteps through the thicket blind.

LXIX

He, when he saw himself within the brake,

Thought to abandon his unweeting foe;

And to the dame—" 'Twere better that we make

For shelter ere the gathering darkness grow;

And, yonder mountain past, (save I mistake)

A tower is seated in the vale below.

Do you expect me then, while from the peak

I measure the remembered place I seek."

LXX

So said, he pushed his courser up the height

Of that lone mountain; in his evil mind

Revolving, as he went, some scheme or sleight

To rid him of the gentle dame behind.

When lo! a rocky cavern met his sight,

Amid those precipices dark and blind:

Its sides descended thirty yards and more,

Worked smooth, and at the bottom was a door.

LXXI

A void was at the bottom, where a wide

Portal conducted to an inner room:

From thence a light shone out on every side,

As of a torch illumining the gloom.

Fair Bradamant pursued her faithless guide,

Suspended there, and pondering on her doom:

And came upon the felon where he stood,

Fearing lest she might lose him in the wood.

LXXII

When her approach the County's first intent

Made vain, the wily traitor sought to mend

His toils, and some new stratagem invent

To rid her thence, or bring her to her end.

And so to meet the approaching lady went,

And showed the cave, and prayed her to ascend;

And said that in its bottom he had seen

A gentle damsel of bewitching mien.

LXXIII

Who, by her lovely semblance and rich vest,

Appeared a lady of no mean degree;

But melancholy, weeping, and distressed,

As one who pined there in captivity:

And that when he towards the entrance pressed,

To learn who that unhappy maid might be,

One on the melancholy damsel flew,

And her within that inner cavern drew.

LXXIV

The beauteous Bradamant, who was more bold

Than wary, gave a ready ear; and, bent

To help the maid, imprisoned in that hold,

Sought but the means to try the deep descent.

Then, looking round, descried an elm-tree old,

Which furnished present means for her intent:

And from the tree, with boughs and foliage stored,

Lopt a long branch, and shaped it with her sword.

LXXV

The severed end she to the count commended,

Then, grasping it, hung down that entrance steep.

With her feet foremost, by her arms suspended:

When asking if she had the skill to leap,

The traitor, with a laugh, his hands extended.

And plunged his helpless prey into the deep.

"And thus," exclaimed the ruffian, "might I speed

With thee each sucker of thy cursed seed!"

LXXVI

But not, as was the will of Pinabel,

Such cruel lot fair Bradamant assayed;

For striking on the bottom of the cell,

The stout elm-bough so long her weight upstayed,

That, though it split and splintered where it fell,

It broked her fall, and saved the gentle maid.

Some while astounded there the lady lay,

As the ensuing canto will display.