715

Yet these he hop'd (escap'd from present harms)
To barter with his foe for stronger arms;
His foe, whose shoulder wounded by his sword,
From the wide gash a stream of crimson pour'd.
Still in his side a wound the Christian felt,
By stern Gradasso not for pleasure dealt;
Yet with king Agramant so well he strove,
That oft through mail and sever'd plate he drove
The weapon's point; his fencing shield he cleft,
His better hand he rais'd, and pierc'd his left.
Such was their fight, yet all must sport be thought,
To deeds Orlando and Gradasso wrought.

Gradasso has Orlando half depriv'd

Of plate and mail, his helm asunder riv'd;

On either side has shorn his crest in twain,

And sent his shield divided to the plain;

720

725

His corslet rent beneath; while safe from harm,
His fated skin defies a mortal arm.

But him the Paladin more sorely press'd,

And pierc'd with wounds his face, his throat, and breast, To grief and madness fir'd, Gradasso view'd

731

In his own gore, his smarting limbs imbru'd,

While fierce Orlando fought, though near disarm'd,
Without a wound, from head to foot unharm'd.

Gradasso rear'd his falchion, at a blow

735

Through head and breast to cleave his hated foe.
He struck, but from his head the shining blade
Return'd unbath'd, though with the stroke dismay'd,
Before Orlando's sight the dazzling meteors play'd.
He dropt the reins; his grasp had lost the sword,
But to his wrist a chain the hilt secur'd.

740

Before his eyes, without remorse, to end
His life's companion, and his truest friend?

The helm in vain oppos'd the fatal stroke,
Deep in the steel the edge resistless broke;
Through fold on fold, a dreadful passage made,
And buried in his head the reeking blade.
All pale he fell, while from the gaping wound
A purple deluge flow'd, and drench'd the ground.
When now Orlando from his trance awoke,
As round the field he cast an eager look,
Full soon his dearest Brandimart he view'd,
Low stretch'd on earth and gasping in his blood;
He saw the Pagan near, whose gestures tell,
That by his hand the much-lov'd warrior fell.
Scarce knows he yet, if rage prevails or grief,
But blood, not tears, must only yield relief.

770

775

780

No time for plaints, when fury bears the sway; But here we close the book, and here the tale delay.

783

poem of Aspramonte, we are told, that Milo, father of Orlando, was slain by this same sword in the hand of Almontes.

7

Drizzossi Almonte, cò suberbia e ira,

Con ambe man la spada che non resta,
Inimichevolmente allor lo mira

El colpo fere e calò su la testa
Ogni armadura il brando seco tira
Barbuta e elmo la spada rubesta
Per modo tale alhora salntollo

Che con la spada il fesse fino al collo.
E'l gentile sangue cade in piana terra
In quel de manco tutta la possanza
Per l'impia Durlindana che l'afferra
Almonte per trevare el Sir di Franza, &c.

Aspramonte, C. xviii.

THE ARGUMENT.

CONCLUSION of the battle between the three Christian and three Pagan knights. Death of Agramant and Gradasso. Grief of Orlando for the death of Brandimart. Bradamant laments Rogero's breach of faith. Rinaldo consults Malagigi on the absence of Angelica: he hears of her leaving France with Medoro, and resolves to pursue her. He enters the forest of Arden, and is attacked by a dreadful monster: he is delivered by a knight; and afterwards by drinking at the fountain of Disdain, is cured of his love for Angelica. He is received and hospitably entertained by a knight of Mantua, who shows him a wonderful cup, by which every married man might prove the fidelity of his wife.