This while he sought to guard with fruitless care,
He fell the last sad victim of the war.
The traitor mark'd him as he walk'd the round,
And pierc'd his forehead with a mortal wound.
My sire and brethren slaughter'd, I remain'd
The hapless heiress of my father's land.
The king of Friza, who desir'd to gain
A lasting footing in his new domain,
On friendly terms propos'd the war to cease,
And grant to me and mine a lasting peace,
Would I consent to what I late deny'd,
And yield to be his son Arbantes' bride.
But this I still refus'd---my steadfast mind
Detested justly him and all his kind.
By him my sire and brethren's death I mourn'd,
My country wasted, and my cities burn'd.
Still was I fix'd to shun the marriage bed,
. Till he return'd whom I had sworn to wed. To shake my stern resolves my people try,
And every art of prayers and threats employ:
When all their prayers and threats they found in vain,
But saw me still my purpose firm maintain,
The terms with him agreed, themselves to save,
Me and the fort into his hands they gave.
The king receiv'd me mildly, and assur'd
My
life and lands alike should rest secur'd,
Would I my stubborn purpose yet forsake,
And, for my spouse, his son Arbantes take.
Thus cruelly beset on every side,
I gladly would t' escape his power have dy❜d.
Yet unreveng'd to die, had griev'd me more
Than all the sufferings I indur'd before :
But finding, when I every thought had weigh'd,
Dissembling could alone my purpose aid;
To ask forgiveness of the past I feign'd,
And gave consent to take Arbantes' hand.
Two brethren in my father's court were bred
Of loyal heart and of inventive head:
To these my thoughts disclos'd, they vow'd to join
Their mutual aid to second my design..
One, to secure my flight, a ship retain❜d:
One, near my person, at the court remain'd.
While strangers now, and natives all were led
T'attend the nuptial rites, a rumour spread
That, in Biscaia rais'd, a naval power
Bireno brought t' invade the Holland shore:
For when in luckless fight our army fail'd,
In which I first a brother's death bewail'd,
With speed I sent to let my lover know
The fatal inroad of our barbarous foe.
Meanwhile the ruthless king his course pursu❜d,
Till all our realm his conquering arms subdu'd.
Bireno, now, who heard not all was lost,
Had loos'd his vessels from Biscaia's coast:
These tidings to the king of Friza known,
He left the approaching nuptials to his son;
And sailing with his fleet, engag'd the duke,
His ships destroy'd, and him a prisoner took.
Now had the youth my hand receiv'd, and led
At night impatient to the nuptial bed.
Soon as my faithful friend, who stood beside
Conceal'd, the bridegroom drawing near espy'd,.
Behind him with an axe so fierce he struck,
That life and speech at once the wretch forsook;,
As sinks the slaughter'd ox besmear'd with gore,
So fell Arbantes, born in luckless hour!
Spite of Cymosco, doom'd his end to find,
So call the king, the basest of markind!
By whom my sire and brethren found their fate,
Who now, t' ensure possession of my state,
Espous'd me to his son--some future day
To take perhaps my wretched life away.
My choicest treasures then secur'd, I flew
The hated place, and with my guide withdrew,
Whose trusty care my hasty steps convey'd
To where his brother with the vessel stay'd.
We court the winds, our oars divide the main,
Till Heaven decree's us safe this land to gain.
'Twere hard to tell which bore a greater part,
Or grief, or rage, in fell Cymosco's heart:
Grief for his hapless son depriv'd of breath,
Or rage against the author of his death.
He, with his joyful fleet, the land regain'd,
Elate with conquest, and Bireno chain'd.
He came prepar❜d a nuptial feast to share,
And view'd his triumph chang'd to black despair.
Nor day, nor night he found a moment's rest,
Revenge and sorrow rankling in his breast:
But since the dead regard not all our grief,
And hate from vengeance only finds relief;
He murder'd those that friends to me were held,
Their wealth he sciz'd; or from the realm expell'd
The hapless train; a thousand schemes engage
His cruel thoughts on me to sate his rage.
The tyrant doubtless had Bireno slain,
The greatest woe he knew I could sustain:
But while he spar'd his life, he surely thought
He held a net by which I might be caught.
Before the youth he sets these terms severe.
His fate he respites for a single year.
But death denounces then with lingering pain,
Unless he first, by fraud or force, attain,
By any means, my person to secure,
And, sacrificing mine, his life ensure.
Whate'er I could, except myself, I gave,
Each art I try'd his dearest life to save.
Six castles have I since in Flanders sold,
And part employ'd in secret sums of gold
To bribe his guards; and part employ'd t' excite
German and English powers to do me right.
Whether my envoys us'd their charge but ill,
Or wanted means their purpose to fulfil,
Instead of succour, words I found alone,
Till with my riches all my hopes were flown.
And now the fatal time is nearly clos'd,
The period to Bireno's life propos'd,
When force or gold will come too late to save
My plighted consort from th' untimely grave.
For him my all is lost;---and nought remains
But now to yield these hands to cruel chains!
Yet, ah! could this redeem the youth I love,
My bosom dares the stern condition prove!
But when th' usurper has my person gain'd,
When I have all his vengeful wrath sustain'd,
I fear he ne'er will set Bireno free,
To owe his freedom and his life to me;
That all I feel of slow-consuming pain
Unblest Bireno must endure again.
For this to you my fortune I unfold,
And thus with many a warrior counsel hold,
In hopes that some their succour may engage,
That when I'm yielded to the tyrant's rage,
He may not still in bonds my love detain,
Or, when I'm dead, command him to be slain.
But to this hour I ne'er have found a knight
Who durst the sacred faith of knighthood plight,
To guard me from the king Cymosco's power
Should he refuse Bireno to restore.
So much his fatal arms their courage quell'd,
Whose force no temper'd cuirass e'er repell'd.
Now, if your valonr not unlike is seen
To your fierce semblance and Herculean mien;
Vouchsafe with me to seek the Holland strand,
And there resign me to his hated hand:
So shall I firmly on your aid rely,
That, though I fall, my lover will not die.
The damsel here her mournful story clos'd,
While oft her sighs and tears were interpos'd......
Orlando then no time in speech affords,
As one by nature little us'd to words;
But instant vows, by generous pity fir'd,
To grant that aid her helpless state requir'd;
Nor means she shall, to save Bireno, go
A willing prisoner to her crucl foe;
Ver. 341.---her mournful story clos'd,] A French story on this subject was published in 1584, called Olympie; and another in 1605, called Les Amours d'Olympie e de Birene.
Ver. 344.-little us'd to words;] Orlando is painted in the same manner in the Innamorato, ever ready to succour the distressed, but sparing of professions.
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