Or the two warriors, whom the friar misled
With lying forms in Stygian darkness bred:
For her a thousand dangers had they dar'd,
And flown with speed to be the virgin's guard:
But should the fatal news their souls surprise
The distance now their timely aid denies !
Meantime was Paris close besieg'd around By king Troyano's son in arms renown'd: One dreadful day the foes so warmly press'd,
They nearly enter'd and the town possess'd:
Then had not Heaven fulfill'd the Christian prayer,
And pour'd a deluge through the darken'd air,
That day had sunk before the Pagan lance,
The sacred empire, and the fame of France!
But if that thou sir Satyrane didst weet,
Or thou sir Peridure her sorry state,
How soon would ye assemble many a fleet,
To fetch from sea what ye at land lost late.
Towers, cities, kingdoms ye would ruinate,
In your avengement and dispiteous rage;
Ne ought your burning fury more abate:
But if sir Calidore could it presage,
No living creature could his cruelty assuage.
"This apostrophe to the knights of Fairy land, and calling on them by name, to assist the distressed Florimel, seems imitated from Ariosto, who twice uses the same kind of apostrophe; where Angelica is going to be devoured by a monster, and where Rogero is flung into prison."
Upton's Notes on Spenser.
Ver. 470. Meantime was Paris-] He returns to Angelica, the xth Book, ver. 617.
Ver. 475. And pour'd a deluge-] In this short account of the siege of Paris, Ariosto alludes to a more particular description which had been given by Boyardo, in the latter end of his poem. See General View of Boyardo's Story.
The continuation of this siege is resumed by Ariosto, B. xiv. ver. 491.
The great Creator turn'd his eyes, and heard
The just complaint by aged Charles preferr❜d,
And sudden, where all human help was vain,
The fire extinguish'd with tempestuous rain.
The wise will ever to th' Almighty-bend,
Whose power can best the falling state defend!
The pious monarch own'd, in grateful thought,
The hand divine that had his safety wrought.
At night Orlando, on his restless bed, Revolves distressful fancies in his head;
While here and there his thoughts each other chase,
And never long maintain their flitting place.
So from a water clear, the trembling light
Of Phoebus, or the silver queen of night,
Ver. 490. So from a water clear,--] See Virgil, Æn. viii.
Sicut aquæ tremulum labris ubi lumen aënis
Sole repercussum, aut radiantis imagine Junæ,
Omnia pervolitat late loca, jamque sub auras
Erigitur, summique ferit laquearia tectì.
So from a brazen vase the trembling stream
Reflects the lunar or the solar beam;
Swift and elusive of the dazzled eyes,
From wall to wall the dancing glory flies;
Thence to the cieling shoot the glancing rays,
And o'er the roof the quivering splendor plays.
Camoens, as Mr. Mickle observes, has the same simile:
As in the sun's bright beam the gamesomne boy
Plays with the shining steel or crystal toy,
Swift and irregular, by sudden starts,
The living ray with viewless motion darts,
Swift o'er the wall, the roof, the floor, by turns,
The sun-beam dances, and the radiance burns.
Mickle's Lusiad, B. viii.
Along the spacious rooms with splendor plays,
Now high, now low, and shifts a thousand ways.
Angelica, returning to his mind,
Who scarce was ever from his thoughts disjoin'd,
He feels with double force the pain increase,
That seem'd awhile by day compos'd to peace.
With her from India to the west he came,
Where fortune robb'd him of his beauteous dame:
And vainly trac'd her steps, since Bourdeans' field 500
Compell'd the banded powers of France to yield.
For this Orlando's careful breast was mov'd,
And oft for this his folly he reprov'd!
My life's best joy! how have I err'd! (he said)
Why have I thus so fair a nymph betray'd?
When on thy charms each day to feed my sight,
On thy dear converse dwell with fond delight,
Thy goodness gave---ev'n then---O! fatal hour!
I tamely gave thee into Namus' power!
Well might my soul have such an act excus'd?
Not Charles himself had my desires refus❜d.
First had I every chance of battle try'd;
First let them from my breast my heart divide !
But Charles, and all his force, too weak had prov'd
To ravish from my arms the maid I lov'd!
At least I might have plac'd her with a guard
In Paris, or some strong retreat prepar'd :
Who like myself, should every danger brave
From threatening ills the virgin-fair to save!
Ver. 500.--since Bourdeaux' field---] The great battle in which the Christian ariny was defeated, described by Boyardo, and mentioned by Ariosto in the beginning of the poem.
Far dearer than the blood that bathes my heart;
How ill have I perform'd a lover's part!
Ah! whither now, without my aid, alone,
Whither, so young and beauteous, art thou gone!
As when the sun withdraws his evening rays,
A lamb, forsaken, midst the forest strays
With tender bleats, in hopes the shepherd's ear
At length may chance the plaintive notes to hear;
Till from afar the wolf the sound receives,
And for his loss the hapless shepherd grieves.
Then art thou fall'n to cruel wolves a prey,
Thy faithful knight Orlando far away!
That dear, that virgin treasure, which possest,
Had made Orlando, with th' immortals blest,
Which at thy chaste desire I kept unstain'd,
Some cruel spoiler now perhaps has gain'd.
Forbid it Heaven! all other sufferings shed,
All other plagues, on my devoted head!
But should it be--this hand shall yield relief,
And end at once my being and my grief.
Now lost in sleep the whole creation lay,
And cheer'd their spirits from the toils of day.
Some sunk in down; and some the herbage press'd;
While some on rocks, on oak, or myrtles rest.
Yet thou, Orlando, seek'st in vain to close
Thy wakeful lids, distracted from repose:
Or if a moment seals thy weary eyes,
In thy short slumber painful visions rise.
Orlando dreamt, that on a river's side,
With odorous flowers and shrubs diversify'd,
Ver. 524. As when the sun-] This is a tender beautiful simile, and altogether original.
He gaz'd transported on that heavenly face,
Which Love himself had ting'd with rosy grace;
On those bright stars, whose glances food supply
To souls that in his nets entangled lie;
On that dear virgin, whose all-conquering eyes
Could in his breast his amorous heart surprise!
While thus he seem'd possest of every joy
That can a happy lover's thoughts employ,
A sudden storm the chearful day o'ercast,
The tender flowerets wither'd in the blast,
The forest shook, as when, in wintry skies,
South, east, and west with mingled fury rise!
Now while he shelter sought, the mournful knight
Seem'd in the gloom to lose the damsels sight.
Now here, now there, he search'd the woods around,
And made the country with her name resound.
But while a thousand fears his soul dismay'd,
He heard her well-known voice imploring aid:
Swift to the sound he turn'd, but turn'd in vain,
His eyes no more the object lov'd regain;
When to his ears this dreadful warning came,
"Ne'er hope on earth again to see the dame!"
The lover, waking, found the vision fled,
And saw his falling tears bedew the bed.
Unmindful now that dreams are empty shade,
By fancy form'd, he deem'd his dearest maid
With danger press'd, and from his couch he flew,
And o'er his limbs his plated armour drew;
Then Brigliadoro took without delay,
But not a squire attendant on his way.
Ver. 578. Brigliadoro-] Briglia d'oro, i. e. golden bridle: the name of Orlando's horse in Boyardo, whence Spenser calls sir
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