Lord Byron - Delphi Poets Series

by Lord Byron

  When there advanced the nations out of Spain

  The Christian cause had suffered shamefully,

  Had not his valour driven them back again.

  Best speak the truth when there’s a reason why:

  Know then, oh Emperor! that all complain:

  As for myself, I shall repass the mounts

  O’er which I crossed with two and sixty counts.

  XV.

  “‘Tis fit thy grandeur should dispense relief,

  So that each here may have his proper part,

  For the whole court is more or less in grief:

  Perhaps thou deem’st this lad a Mars in heart?”

  Orlando one day heard this speech in brief,

  As by himself it chanced he sate apart:

  Displeased he was with Gan because he said it,

  But much more still that Charles should give him credit.

  XVI.

  And with the sword he would have murdered Gan,

  But Oliver thrust in between the pair,

  And from his hand extracted Durlindan,

  And thus at length they separated were.

  Orlando angry too with Carloman,

  Wanted but little to have slain him there;

  Then forth alone from Paris went the Chief,

  And burst and maddened with disdain and grief.

  XVII.

  From Ermellina, consort of the Dane,

  He took Cortana, and then took Rondell,

  And on towards Brara pricked him o’er the plain;

  And when she saw him coming, Aldabelle

  Stretched forth her arms to clasp her lord again:

  Orlando, in whose brain all was not well,

  As “Welcome, my Orlando, home,” she said,

  Raised up his sword to smite her on the head.

  XVIII.

  Like him a Fury counsels, his revenge

  On Gan in that rash act he seemed to take,

  Which Aldabella thought extremely strange;

  But soon Orlando found himself awake;

  And his spouse took his bridle on this change,

  And he dismounted from his horse, and spake

  Of every thing which passed without demur,

  And then reposed himself some days with her.

  XIX.

  Then full of wrath departed from the place,

  As far as pagan countries roamed astray,

  And while he rode, yet still at every pace

  The traitor Gan remembered by the way;

  And wandering on in error a long space,

  An abbey which in a lone desert lay,

  ‘Midst glens obscure, and distant lands, he found,

  Which formed the Christian’s and the Pagan’s bound.

  XX.

  The Abbot was called Clermont, and by blood

  Descended from Angrante: under cover

  Of a great mountain’s brow the abbey stood,

  But certain savage giants looked him over;

  One Passamont was foremost of the brood,

  And Alabaster and Morgante hover

  Second and third, with certain slings, and throw

  In daily jeopardy the place below.

  XXI.

  The monks could pass the convent gate no more,

  Nor leave their cells for water or for wood;

  Orlando knocked, but none would ope, before

  Unto the Prior it at length seemed good;

  Entered, he said that he was taught to adore

  Him who was born of Mary’s holiest blood,

  And was baptized a Christian; and then showed

  How to the abbey he had found his road.

  XXII.

  Said the Abbot, “You are welcome; what is mine

  We give you freely, since that you believe

  With us in Mary Mother’s Son divine;

  And that you may not, Cavalier, conceive

  The cause of our delay to let you in

  To be rusticity, you shall receive

  The reason why our gate was barred to you:

  Thus those who in suspicion live must do.

  XXIII.

  “When hither to inhabit first we came

  These mountains, albeit that they are obscure,

  As you perceive, yet without fear or blame

  They seemed to promise an asylum sure:

  From savage brutes alone, too fierce to tame,

  ‘Twas fit our quiet dwelling to secure;

  But now, if here we’d stay, we needs must guard

  Against domestic beasts with watch and ward.

  XXIV.

  “These make us stand, in fact, upon the watch;

  For late there have appeared three giants rough,

  What nation or what kingdom bore the batch

  I know not, but they are all of savage stuff;

  When Force and Malice with some genius match,

  You know, they can do all — we are not enough:

  And these so much our orisons derange,

  I know not what to do, till matters change.

  XXV.

  “Our ancient fathers, living the desert in,

  For just and holy works were duly fed;

  Think not they lived on locusts sole, ‘tis certain

  That manna was rained down from heaven instead;

  But here ‘tis fit we keep on the alert in

  Our bounds, or taste the stones showered down for bread,

  From off yon mountain daily raining faster,

  And flung by Passamont and Alabaster.

  XXVI.

  “The third, Morgante, ‘s savagest by far; he

  Plucks up pines, beeches, poplar-trees, and oaks,

  And flings them, our community to bury;

  And all that I can do but more provokes.”

  While thus they parley in the cemetery,

  A stone from one of their gigantic strokes,

  Which nearly crushed Rondell, came tumbling over,

  So that he took a long leap under cover.

  XXVII.

  “For God-sake, Cavalier, come in with speed;

  The manna’s falling now,” the Abbot cried.

  “This fellow does not wish my horse should feed,

  Dear Abbot,” Roland unto him replied,

  “Of restiveness he’d cure him had he need;

  That stone seems with good will and aim applied.”

  The holy father said, “I don’t deceive;

  They’ll one day fling the mountain, I believe.”

  XXVIII.

  Orlando bade them take care of Rondello,

  And also made a breakfast of his own;

  “Abbot,” he said, “I want to find that fellow

  Who flung at my good horse yon corner-stone.”

  Said the abbot, “Let not my advice seem shallow;

  As to a brother dear I speak alone;

  I would dissuade you, Baron, from this strife,

  As knowing sure that you will lose your life.

  XXIX.

  “That Passamont has in his hand three darts —

  Such slings, clubs, ballast-stones, that yield you must:

  You know that giants have much stouter hearts

  Than us, with reason, in proportion just:

  If go you will, guard well against their arts,

  For these are very barbarous and robust.”

  Orlando answered,” This I’ll see, be sure,

  And walk the wild on foot to be secure.”

  XXX.

  The Abbot signed the great cross on his front,

  “Then go you with God’s benison and mine.”

  Orlando, after he had scaled the mount,

  As the Abbot had directed, kept the line

  Right to the usual haunt of Passamont;

  Who, seeing him alone in this design,

  Surveyed hi
m fore and aft with eyes observant,

  Then asked him, “If he wished to stay as servant?”

  XXXI.

  And promised him an office of great ease.

  But, said Orlando, “Saracen insane!

  I come to kill you, if it shall so please

  God, not to serve as footboy in your train;

  You with his monks so oft have broke the peace —

  Vile dog! ‘tis past his patience to sustain.”

  The Giant ran to fetch his arms, quite furious,

  When he received an answer so injurious.

  XXXII.

  And being returned to where Orlando stood,

  Who had not moved him from the spot, and swinging

  The cord, he hurled a stone with strength so rude,

  As showed a sample of his skill in slinging;

  It rolled on Count Orlando’s helmet good

  And head, and set both head and helmet ringing,

  So that he swooned with pain as if he died,

  But more than dead, he seemed so stupified.

  XXXIII.

  Then Passamont, who thought him slain outright,

  Said, “I will go, and while he lies along,

  Disarm me: why such craven did I fight?”

  But Christ his servants ne’er abandons long,

  Especially Orlando, such a knight,

  As to desert would almost be a wrong.

  While the giant goes to put off his defences,

  Orlando has recalled his force and senses:

  XXXIV.

  And loud he shouted, “Giant, where dost go?

  Thou thought’st me doubtless for the bier outlaid;

  To the right about — without wings thou’rt too slow

  To fly my vengeance — currish renegade!

  ‘Twas but by treachery thou laid’st me low.”

  The giant his astonishment betrayed,

  And turned about, and stopped his journey on,

  And then he stooped to pick up a great stone.

  XXXV.

  Orlando had Cortana bare in hand;

  To split the head in twain was what he schemed:

  Cortana clave the skull like a true brand,

  And pagan Passamont died unredeemed;

  Yet harsh and haughty, as he lay he banned,

  And most devoutly Macon still blasphemed;

  But while his crude, rude blasphemies he heard,

  Orlando thanked the Father and the Word, —

  XXXVI.

  Saying, “What grace to me thou’st this day given!

  And I to thee, O Lord! am ever bound;

  I know my life was saved by thee from Heaven,

  Since by the Giant I was fairly downed.

  All things by thee are measured just and even;

  Our power without thine aid would nought be found:

  I pray thee take heed of me, till I can

  At least return once more to Carloman.”

  XXXVII.

  And having said thus much, he went his way;

  And Alabaster he found out below,

  Doing the very best that in him lay

  To root from out a bank a rock or two.

  Orlando, when he reached him, loud ‘gan say,

  “How think’st thou, glutton, such a stone to throw?”

  When Alabaster heard his deep voice ring,

  He suddenly betook him to his sling,

  XXXVIII.

  And hurled a fragment of a size so large

  That if it had in fact fulfilled its mission,

  And Roland not availed him of his targe,

  There would have been no need of a physician.

  Orlando set himself in turn to charge,

  And in his bulky bosom made incision

  With all his sword. The lout fell; but o’erthrown, he

  However by no means forgot Macone.

  XXXIX.

  Morgante had a palace in his mode,

  Composed of branches, logs of wood, and earth,

  And stretched himself at ease in this abode,

  And shut himself at night within his berth.

  Orlando knocked, and knocked again, to goad

  The giant from his sleep; and he came forth,

  The door to open, like a crazy thing,

  For a rough dream had shook him slumbering.

  XL.

  He thought that a fierce serpent had attacked him,

  And Mahomet he called; but Mahomet

  Is nothing worth, and, not an instant backed him;

  But praying blessed Jesu, he was set

  At liberty from all the fears which racked him;

  And to the gate he came with great regret —

  “Who knocks here?” grumbling all the while, said he.

  “That,” said Orlando, “you will quickly see:

  XLI.

  “I come to preach to you, as to your brothers, —

  Sent by the miserable monks — repentance;

  For Providence divine, in you and others,

  Condemns the evil done, my new acquaintance!

  ‘Tis writ on high — your wrong must pay another’s:

  From Heaven itself is issued out this sentence.

  Know then, that colder now than a pilaster

  I left your Passamont and Alabaster.”

  XLII.

  Morgante said, “Oh gentle Cavalier!

  Now by thy God say me no villany;

  The favour of your name I fain would hear,

  And if a Christian, speak for courtesy.”

  Replied Orlando, “So much to your ear

  I by my faith disclose contentedly;

  Christ I adore, who is the genuine Lord,

  And, if you please, by you may be adored.”

  XLIII.

  The Saracen rejoined in humble tone,

  “I have had an extraordinary vision;

  A savage serpent fell on me alone,

  And Macon would not pity my condition;

  Hence to thy God, who for ye did atone

  Upon the cross, preferred I my petition;

  His timely succour set me safe and free,

  And I a Christian am disposed to be.”

  XLIV.

  Orlando answered, “Baron just and pious,

  If this good wish your heart can really move

  To the true God, who will not then deny us

  Eternal honour, you will go above,

  And, if you please, as friends we will ally us,

  And I will love you with a perfect love.

  Your idols are vain liars, full of fraud:

  The only true God is the Christian’s God.

  XLV.

  “The Lord descended to the virgin breast

  Of Mary Mother, sinless and divine;

  If you acknowledge the Redeemer blest,

  Without whom neither sun nor star can shine,

  Abjure bad Macon’s false and felon test,

  Your renegado god, and worship mine,

  Baptize yourself with zeal, since you repent.”

  To which Morgante answered, “I’m content.”

  XLVI.

  And then Orlando to embrace him flew,

  And made much of his convert, as he cried,

  “To the abbey I will gladly marshal you.”

  To whom Morgante, “Let us go,” replied:

  “I to the friars have for peace to sue.”

  Which thing Orlando heard with inward pride,

  Saying, “My brother, so devout and good,

  Ask the Abbot pardon, as I wish you would:

  XLVII.

  “Since God has granted your illumination,

  Accepting you in mercy for his own,

  Humility should be your first oblation.”

  Morgante said, “For goodness’ sake, make known, —

  Since that your God is to
be mine — your station,

  And let your name in verity be shown;

  Then will I everything at your command do.”

  On which the other said, he was Orlando.

  XLVIII.

  “Then,” quoth the Giant, “blessed be Jesu

  A thousand times with gratitude and praise!

  Oft, perfect Baron! have I heard of you

  Through all the different periods of my days:

  And, as I said, to be your vassal too

  I wish, for your great gallantry always.”

  Thus reasoning, they continued much to say,

  And onwards to the abbey went their way.

  XLIX.

  And by the way about the giants dead

  Orlando with Morgante reasoned: “Be,

  For their decease, I pray you, comforted,

  And, since it is God’s pleasure, pardon me;

  A thousand wrongs unto the monks they bred;

  And our true Scripture soundeth openly,

  Good is rewarded, and chastised the ill,

  Which the Lord never faileth to fulfil:

  L.

  “Because His love of justice unto all

  Is such, He wills His judgment should devour

  All who have sin, however great or small;

  But good He well remembers to restore.

  Nor without justice holy could we call

  Him, whom I now require you to adore.

  All men must make His will their wishes sway,

  And quickly and spontaneously obey.

  LI.

  “And here our doctors are of one accord,

  Coming on this point to the same conclusion, —

  That in their thoughts, who praise in Heaven the Lord,

  If Pity e’er was guilty of intrusion

  For their unfortunate relations stored

  In Hell below, and damned in great confusion,

  Their happiness would be reduced to nought, —

  And thus unjust the Almighty’s self be thought.

  LII.

  “But they in Christ have firmest hope, and all

  Which seems to Him, to them too must appear

  Well done; nor could it otherwise befall;

  He never can in any purpose err.

  If sire or mother suffer endless thrall,

  They don’t disturb themselves for him or her:

  What pleases God to them must joy inspire; —

  Such is the observance of the eternal choir.”

  LIII.

  “A word unto the wise,” Morgante said,

  “Is wont to be enough, and you shall see

  How much I grieve about my brethren dead;

  And if the will of God seem good to me,

  Just, as you tell me, ‘tis in Heaven obeyed —

  Ashes to ashes, — merry let us be!

  I will cut off the hands from both their trunks,

  And carry them unto the holy monks.

  LIV.

  “So that all persons may be sure and certain