INTRODUCTION:

This work is a continuation of the "Orlando Innamorato" of Matteo Maria Boiardo, which was left unfinished upon the author's death in 1494. It begins more or less at the point where Boiardo left it.

This is a brief synopsis of Boiardo's work, omitting most of the numerous digressions and incidental episodes associated with these events:

To the court of King Charlemagne comes Angelica (daughter to the king of Cathay, or India) and her brother Argalia. Angelica is the most beautiful woman any of the Peers have ever seen, and all want her. However, in order to take her as wife they must first defeat Argalia in combat. The two most stricken by her are Orlando and Ranaldo ("Rinaldo" in Rose).

When Argalia falls to the heathen knight Ferrau, Angelica flees — with Orlando and Ranaldo in hot pursuit. Along the way, both Angelica and Ranaldo drink magic waters — Angelica is filled with a burning love for Ranaldo, but Ranaldo is now indifferent.

Eventually, Orlando and Ranaldo arrive at Angelica's castle. Others also gather at Angelica's castle, including Agricane, King of Tartary; Sacripant, King of Circassia; Agramante, King of Africa and Marfisa ("Marphisa" in Rose), an Asian warrior-Queen. Except for Orlando and Ranaldo, all are heathen.

Meanwhile, France is threatened by heathen invaders. Led by King Gradasso of Sericana (whose principal reason for going to war is to obtain Orlando's sword, Durindana) and King Rodomonte of Sarzia, a Holy War between Pagans and Christians ensues.

Ranaldo leaves Angelica's castle, and Angelica and a very love-sick (but very chaste and proper) Orlando, set out for France in search of him. Again the same waters as before are drunk from, but this time in reverse — Ranaldo now burns for Angelica, but Angelica is now indifferent. Ranaldo and Orlando now begin to fight over her, but King Charlemagne (fearing the consequences if his two best knights kill each other in combat) intervenes and promises Angelica to whichever of the two fights the best against the heathen; he leaves her in the care of Duke Namus. Orlando and Ranaldo arrive in Paris just in time to repulse an attack by Agramante.

Namus' camp is overrun by the heathen. Angelica escapes, with Ranaldo in pursuit. Also in pursuit is Ferrau, who (because he had defeated Argalia) considers Angelica his. It is at this point that the poem breaks off.

While the Orlando-Ranaldo-Angelica triangle is going on, the stories of other knights and their loves are mixed in. Most important of these is that of the female knight Bradamante (sister of Ranaldo), who falls in love with a very noble heathen knight named Ruggiero ("Rogero" in Rose). Ruggiero, who is said to be a descendent of Alexander the Great and Hector, also falls in love with Bradamante, but because they are fighting on opposite sides it is felt that their love is hopeless. Nevertheless, it is prophecised that they shall wed and found the famous Este line, who shall rise to become one of the major families of Medieval and Renaissance Italy (it is worth noting that the Estes where the patrons of both Boiardo and Ariosto). Opposed to this prophecy is Atlantes, an African wizard who seeks to derail fate and keep Ruggiero from becoming a Christian. By the end of the poem, Ruggiero is imprisoned in Atlantes' castle. However, Bradamante (who has decided to follow her heart) is in pursuit of her love, and is not too far away. It is the

Bradamante-Ruggiero story that eventually takes center stage in Ariosto's work.

Other characters of importance: Astolfo, a Peer and friend of Orlando, who is kidnaped by the evil witch Morgana and her sister Alcina; Mandricardo, a fierce but hot-headed heathen; and a young knight named Brandimarte, who falls in love with (and wins the heart of) the beautiful Fiordelisa ("Flordelice" in Rose). All play major or semi-major roles in the events of Ariosto's poem.

—DBK

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CANTO 1

ARGUMENT Angelica, whom pressing danger frights, Flies in disorder through the greenwood shade. Rinaldo's horse escapes: he, following, fights Ferrau, the Spaniard, in a forest glade. A second oath the haughty paynim plights, And keeps it better than the first he made. King Sacripant regains his long-lost treasure; But good Rinaldo mars his promised pleasure.

I OF LOVES and LADIES, KNIGHTS and ARMS, I sing, Of COURTESIES, and many a DARING FEAT; And from those ancient days my story bring, When Moors from Afric passed in hostile fleet, And ravaged France, with Agramant their king, Flushed with his youthful rage and furious heat, Who on king Charles', the Roman emperor's head Had vowed due vengeance for Troyano dead.

II In the same strain of Roland will I tell Things unattempted yet in prose or rhyme, On whom strange madness and rank fury fell, A man esteemed so wise in former time; If she, who to like cruel pass has well Nigh brought my feeble wit which fain would climb And hourly wastes my sense, concede me skill And strength my daring promise to fulfil.

III Good seed of Hercules, give ear and deign, Thou that this age's grace and splendour art, Hippolitus, to smile upon his pain Who tenders what he has with humble heart. For though all hope to quit the score were vain, My pen and pages may pay the debt in part; Then, with no jealous eye my offering scan, Nor scorn my gifts who give thee all I can.

IV And me, amid the worthiest shalt thou hear, Whom I with fitting praise prepare to grace, Record the good Rogero, valiant peer, The ancient root of thine illustrious race. Of him, if thou wilt lend a willing ear, The worth and warlike feats I shall retrace; So thou thy graver cares some little time Postponing, lend thy leisure to my rhyme.

V Roland, who long the lady of Catay, Angelica, had loved, and with his brand Raised countless trophies to that damsel gay, In India, Median, and Tartarian land, Westward with her had measured back his way; Where, nigh the Pyrenees, with many a band Of Germany and France, King Charlemagne Had camped his faithful host upon the plain.

VI To make King Agramant, for penance, smite His cheek, and rash Marsilius rue the hour; This, when all trained with lance and sword to fight, He led from Africa to swell his power; That other when he pushed, in fell despite, Against the realm of France Spain's martial flower. 'Twas thus Orlando came where Charles was tented In evil hour, and soon the deed repented.

VII For here was seized his dame of peerless charms, (How often human judgment wanders wide)! Whom in long warfare he had kept from harms, From western climes to eastern shores her guide In his own land, 'mid friends and kindred arms, Now without contest severed from his side. Fearing the mischief kindled by her eyes, From him the prudent emperor reft the prize.

VIII For bold Orlando and his cousin, free Rinaldo, late contended for the maid, Enamored of that beauty rare; since she Alike the glowing breast of either swayed. But Charles, who little liked such rivalry, And drew an omen thence of feebler aid, To abate the cause of quarrel, seized the fair, And placed her in Bavarian Namus' care.

IX Vowing with her the warrior to content, Who in that conflict, on that fatal day, With his good hand most gainful succour lent, And slew most paynims in the martial fray. But counter to his hopes the battle went, And his thinned squadrons fled in disarray; Namus, with other Christian captains taken, And his pavilion in the rout forsaken.

X There, lodged by Charles, that gentle bonnibel, Ordained to be the valiant victor's meed, Before the event had sprung into her sell, And from the combat turned in time of need; Presaging wisely Fortune would rebel That fatal day against the Christian creed: And, entering a thick wood, discovered near, In a close path, a horseless cavalier.

XI With shield upon his arm, in knightly wise, Belted and mailed, his helmet on his head; The knight more lightly through the forest hies Than half-clothed churl to win the cloth of red. But not from cruel snake more swiftly flies The timid shepherdess, with startled tread, Than poor Angelica the bridle turns When she the approaching knight on foot discerns.

XII This was that Paladin, good Aymon's seed, Who Mount Albano had in his command; And late Baiardo lost, his gallant steed, Escaped by strange adventure from his hand. As soon as seen, the maid who rode at speed The warrior knew, and, while yet distant, scanned The angelic features and the gentle air Which long had held him fast in Cupid's snare.

XIII The affrighted damsel turns her palfrey round, And shakes the floating bridle in the wind; Nor in her panic seeks to choose her ground, Nor open grove prefers to thicket blind. But reckless, pale and trembling, and astound, Leaves to her horse the devious way to find. He up and down the forest bore the dame, Till to a sylvan river's bank he came.

XIV Here stood the fierce Ferrau in grisly plight, Begrimed with dust, and bathed with sweat and blood Who lately had withdrawn him from the fight, To rest and drink at that refreshing flood: But there had tarried in his own despite, Since bending from the bank, in hasty mood, He dropped his helmet in the crystal tide, And vainly to regain the treasure tried.

XV Thither at speed she drives, and evermore In her wild panic utters fearful cries; And at the voice, upleaping on the shore, The Saracen her lovely visage spies. And, pale as is her cheek, and troubled sore, Arriving, quickly to the warrior's eyes (Though many days no news of her had shown) The beautiful Angelica is known.

XVI Courteous, and haply gifted with a breast As warm as either of the cousins two; As bold, as if his brows in steel were dressed, The succour which she sought he lent, and drew His faulchion, and against Rinaldo pressed, Who saw with little fear the champion true. Not only each to each was known by sight, But each had proved in arms his foeman's might.

XVII Thus, as they are, on foot the warriors vie In cruel strife, and blade to blade oppose; No marvel plate or brittle mail should fly, When anvils had not stood the deafening blows. It now behoves the palfrey swift to ply His feet; for while the knights in combat close, Him vexed to utmost speed, with goading spurs, By waste or wood the frighted damsel stirs.

XVIII After the two had struggled long to throw Each other in the strife, and vainly still; Since neither valiant warrior was below His opposite in force and knightly skill: The first to parley with his Spanish foe Was the good master of Albano's hill (As one within whose raging breast was pent A reckless fire which struggled for a vent).

XIX "Thou think'st," he said, "to injure me alone, But know thou wilt thyself as much molest: For if we fight because yon rising sun This raging heat has kindled in thy breast. What were thy gain, and what the guerdon won, Though I should yield my life, or stoop my crest; If she shall never be thy glorious meed, Who flies, while vainly we in battle bleed?

XX "Then how much better, since our stake's the same, Thou, loving like myself, should'st mount and stay To wait this battle's end, the lovely dame, Before she fly yet further on her way. The lady taken, we repeat our claim With naked faulchion to that peerless prey: Else by long toil I see not what we gain But simple loss and unrequited pain."

XXI The peer's proposal pleased the paynim well. And so their hot contention was foregone; And such fair truce replaced that discord fell, So mutual wrongs forgot and mischief done; That for departure seated in his sell, On foot the Spaniard left not Aymon's son; But him to mount his courser's crupper prayed; And both united chased the royal maid.

XXII Oh! goodly truth in cavaliers of old! Rivals they were, to different faith were bred. Not yet the weary warriors' wounds were cold — Still smarting from those strokes so fell and dread. Yet they together ride by waste and wold, And, unsuspecting, devious dingle thread. Them, while four spurs infest his foaming sides, Their courser brings to where the way divides.

XXIII And now the warlike pair at fault, for they Knew not by which she might her palfrey goad, (Since both, without distinction, there survey The recent print of hoofs on either road), Commit the chase to fortune. By this way The paynim pricked, by that Rinaldo strode. But fierce Ferrau, bewildered in the wood, Found himself once again where late he stood.

XXIV Beside the water, where he stoop'd to drink, And dropt the knightly helmet, — to his cost, Sunk in the stream; and since he could not think Her to retrieve, who late his hopes had crossed. He, where the treasure fell, descends the brink Of that swift stream, and seeks the morion lost. But the casque lies so bedded in the sands, 'Twill ask no light endeavour at his hands.

XXV A bough he severs from a neighbouring tree, And shreds and shapes the branch into a pole: With this he sounds the stream, and anxiously Fathoms, and rakes, and ransacks shelf and hole. While angered sore at heart, and restless, he So lingered, where the troubled waters roll, Breast-high, from the mid river rose upright, The apparition of an angry knight.

XXVI Armed at all points he was, except his head, And in his better hand a helmet bore: The very casque, which in the river's bed Ferrau sought vainly, toiling long and sore. Upon the Spanish knight he frowned, and said: "Thou traitor to thy word, thou perjured Moor, Why grieve the goodly helmet to resign, Which, due to me long since, is justly mine?

XXVII "Remember, pagan, when thine arm laid low The brother of Angelica. That knight Am I; — thy word was plighted then to throw After my other arms his helmet bright. If Fortune now compel thee to forego The prize, and do my will in thy despite, Grieve not at this, but rather grieve that thou Art found a perjured traitor to thy vow.

XXVIII "But if thou seek'st a helmet, be thy task To win and wear it more to thy renown. A noble prize were good Orlando's casque; Rinaldo's such, or yet a fairer crown; Almontes', or Mambrino's iron masque: Make one of these, by force of arms, thine own. And this good helm will fitly be bestowed Where (such thy promise) it has long been owed."

XXIX Bristled the paynim's every hair at view Of that grim shade, uprising from the tide, And vanished was his fresh and healthful hue, While on his lips the half-formed accents died. Next hearing Argalia, whom he slew, (So was the warrior hight) that stream beside, Thus his unknightly breach of promise blame, He burned all over, flushed with rage and shame.

XXX Nor having time his falsehood to excuse, And knowing well how true the phantom's lore, Stood speechless; such remorse the words infuse. Then by Lanfusa's life the warrior swore, Never in fight, or foray would he use Helmet but that which good Orlando bore From Aspramont, where bold Almontes paid His life a forfeit to the Christian blade.

XXXI And this new vow discharged more faithfully Than the vain promise which was whilom plight; And from the stream departing heavily, Was many days sore vexed and grieved in sprite; And still intent to seek Orlando, he Roved wheresoe'er he hoped to find the knight. A different lot befel Rinaldo; who Had chanced another pathway to pursue.

XXXII For far the warrior fared not, ere he spied, Bounding across the path, his gallant steed, And, "Stay, Bayardo mine," Rinaldo cried, "Too cruel care the loss of thee does breed." The horse for this returned not to his side, Deaf to his prayer, but flew with better speed. Furious, in chase of him, Rinaldo hies. But follow we Angelica, who flies.

XXXIII Through dreary woods and dark the damsel fled, By rude unharboured heath and savage height, While every leaf or spray that rustled, bred (Of oak, or elm, or beech), such new affright, She here and there her foaming palfrey sped By strange and crooked paths with furious flight; And at each shadow, seen in valley blind, Or mountain, feared Rinaldo was behind.

XXXIV As a young roe or fawn of fallow deer, Who, mid the shelter of its native glade, Has seen a hungry pard or tiger tear The bosom of its bleeding dam, dismayed, Bounds, through the forest green in ceaseless fear Of the destroying beast, from shade to shade, And at each sapling touched, amid its pangs, Believes itself between the monster's fangs,

XXXV One day and night, and half the following day, The damsel wanders wide, nor whither knows; Then enters a deep wood, whose branches play, Moved lightly by the freshening breeze which blows. Through this two clear and murmuring rivers stray: Upon their banks a fresher herbage grows; While the twin streams their passage slowly clear, Make music with the stones, and please the ear.

XXXVI Weening removed the way by which she wends, A thousand miles from loathed Rinaldo's beat, To rest herself a while the maid intends, Wearied with that long flight and summer's heat. She from her saddle 'mid spring flowers descends And takes the bridle from her courser fleet. And loose along the river lets him pass, Roving the banks in search of lusty grass.

XXXVII Behold! at hand a thicket she surveys Gay with the flowering thorn and vermeil rose: The tuft reflected in the stream which strays Beside it, overshadowing oaks enclose. Hollow within, and safe from vulgar gaze, It seemed a place constructed for repose; With bows so interwoven, that the light Pierced not the tangled screen, far less the sight.

XXXVIII Within soft moss and herbage form a bed; And to delay and rest the traveller woo. 'Twas there her limbs the weary damsel spread, Her eye-balls bathed in slumber's balmy dew. But little time had eased her drooping head, Ere, as she weened, a courser's tramp she knew. Softly she rises, and the river near, Armed cap-a-pie, beholds a cavalier.

XXXIX If friend or foe, she nothing comprehends, (So hope and fear her doubting bosom tear) And that adventure's issue mute attends, Nor even with a sigh disturbs the air. The cavalier upon the bank descends; And sits so motionless, so lost in care, (His visage propt upon his arm) to sight Changed into senseless stone appeared the knight.

XL Pensive, above an hour, with drooping head, He rested mute, ere he began his moan; And then his piteous tale of sorrow said, Lamenting in so soft and sweet a tone, He in a tiger's breast had pity bred, Or with his mournful wailings rent a stone. And so he sighed and wept; like rivers flowed His tears, his bosom like an Aetna glowed.

XLI "Thought which now makes me burn, now freeze with hate, Which gnaws my heart and rankles at its root! What's left to me," he said, "arrived too late, While one more favoured bears away the fruit? Bare words and looks scarce cheered my hopeless state, And the prime spoils reward another's suit. Then since for me nor fruit nor blossom hangs, Why should I longer pine in hopeless pangs?

XLII "The virgin has her image in the rose Sheltered in garden on its native stock, Which there in solitude and safe repose, Blooms unapproached by sheperd or by flock. For this earth teems, and freshening water flows, And breeze and dewy dawn their sweets unlock: With such the wistful youth his bosom dresses. With such the enamored damsel braids her tresses.

XLIII "But wanton hands no sooner this displace From the maternal stem, where it was grown, Than all is withered; whatsoever grace It found with man or heaven; bloom, beauty, gone. The damsel who should hold in higher place Than light or life the flower which is her own, Suffering the spoiler's hand to crop the prize, Forfeits her worth in every other's eyes.

XLIV "And be she cheap with all except the wight On whom she did so large a boon bestow. Ah! false and cruel Fortune! foul despite! While others triumph, I am drown'd in woe. And can it be that I 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."