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Tis all that heaven will let them do this day,
Nor may they wreak thy death upon thy foes;
For its long circling years have wasted now
Their vigour, made their strength to age to 1iow.

—Canto vii. 10, 11.

Rinaldo dares not oiler the con- bushes behind which she lurked, solations which he longs to give, a spy on her hunter-husband—by and rides on in the darkness; only, the dart which he cast at the wild however, feeling sorrow, not re- beast which he ignorantly supmorse,—for he has taken Hugh's posed her to be. Now his anguish life in fair field, and "nought he at his involuntary crime has found did in hate, but all in honour." strange expression. Day and night

The next day's light discloses to he watches the fair corpse in its

him another woful spectacle, and thin alabaster tomb, and constrains

one full of fantastic horror. En- all who pass by to drink of the

tombed in a transparent sepulchre, magic spring beside it; the foun

her fair flesh made, by magic, in- tain of sorrow, which at once makes

incorruptible, lies the beautiful them partners in his grief. It is

Clytia; a second Procris, who has thus that Tasso describes the ap

met with the fate of her Greek proach of Rinaldo and Florindo to

prototype, and been slain — be- the dolorous forest:— trayed by the movement of the

Twas at the hour when in dim caverns hiding
The shadows flee the conquering steps of morn,
That they, by broken and steep pathways riding,
Came to a forest gloomy and forlorn,
Which, on its own harm bent, shut out the day,
Nor from the sun received one friendly ray.

And through it with a crooked foot unclean
Crept on a stream that rose in neighbouring ground;
No pebbles bright beneath its waves were seen,
No sportive Nymph, no fish, was in them found;
At last collected pond-wise, mantling green
They formed a pool spread in wide circle round,
With banks where thorn and brier a thicket made—
The yew and juniper their only shade.

The knights around them gaze, but nothing there
To waken pleasant thoughts can they descry;
Nor art, nor nature, makes that region fair,
Here all things sadden the beholder's eye;
Here ever dull and murky is the air,
Kver alike sad and obscure the sky,
Ever the shade is black and thick the stream,
Ever the soil must bare and flowerless seem.

Whilst yet the youths advance they near at hand
Discern a high sepulchral monument;
And, pressing round it close, a serried band
Of warriors with grieved faces downward bent,

Who tear their hair, and beat their breasts, ami stand
Woful, as on some bitter care intent;
The while aye fresh their tears of anguish fall,
The forest echoes to their plaintive call.

The tomb they compassed of such living stone

Was wrought, stone so transparent to the light,

That, like to glass or water, it made known

Its inmost secrets to the gazer's sight;

So that to both the warriors soon were shown

Its mysteries hard to comprehend aright:

A ladye lay there, beautiful of face

And lovesome. Ah! what did she in that place?

She lay there dead, yet dead to fire she seemed
With love the sky and all the earth around.
Through her fair breast out at the shoulder gleamed
A dart's sharp point all bleeding from the wound:
Her face was white as snow by Juno streamed
From off her frozen veil upon the ground;
Her eyes were closed,—natheless in them I ween
Could all the treasures vast of love be seen.

Canto vii. 13-18.

The chief mourner among the whom it bound before now cease knights puts on his helmet, mounts from their lamentations, thank his horse, and commands the two Rinaldo as their deliverer, and strangers to drink the sorrowful hasten to quit the forest, water, or die by his hand. Rinaldo Once more our two young adresists, and, by his victorious lance, venturers proceed on their quest, brings the hapless widower's an- seeking opportunities of distinction guish to an end. He dies after by mountain, wood, and plain, telling his strange tale; nor does The gloomy shades which they the magician who has so long be- leave behind them render doubly friended him desert him in death; welcome the bright scenes amid for a second tomb rises at once which they soon find themselves; beside the first, to keep his corpse as they return to that Bay of in all honour beside that of his Naples which Tasso has such pleabeautiful wife and victim. The sure in describing, and so reviving former spell is broken by the death the happy memories of his own of the doleful knight; the cavaliers childhood, spent beside it:—

On the third day, while the sun equally
Apart was standing from the East and West,
Placid and smooth they saw the Tyrrhene Sea
Beat its fair shore with sound of waves suppressed,
And reached a flowery plain that beauteously
Smiled, by so many, and more, colours dressed
Than are the charms adorning that dear face
Which thralls my heart and spirit by its grace.

Here that fair youth was seen, whom pitiless
The discus slew, to hyacinth now turned;
He too whom to his death did madness press,
Poor wretch! while for himself he vainly burned;
And he from whom thy heart sweet love's distress,
O beauteous goddess soft and courteous! learned,
By whom from Mars, and Vulcan too, beguiled
Thou thy third heaven didst change for sylvan wild.

Here nard, acanthus, crocus, lilies show

Their opening petals gladly to the air;

And flowers that in this spot alone can blow

By Nature sent to make none other fair;

Amid the which, with sweet hoarse murmur, slow

A limpid stream creeps sinuous on, to bear

Gifts to the sea of coral and of gold,

Than which no richer Thetis' treasures hold.

Here rise not fir, or beech, or oak and pine,
The green earth's bosom from hot rays defending,
But laurels, myrtles, and sweet shrubs combine
To shield it, odorous tresses green extending;
Here hardest bosoms must to love incline,
To gentle thoughts at song of birds unbending,
That sporting on the boughs from screen of leaves
Call, and each call an answer sweet receives.

While on this lovely place they gaze around,
And think, that garden fair was such to sight
Where our first parents once their dwelling found,
Eve with great Adam, in unblamed delight,
Not far away a horn they hear with sound
That gently seems upon the air to smite,
And see two graceful damsels onward speeding,
In charms and beauty other maids exceeding.

Canto vii. 53-57.

These ladies, clad, the one in pur- which their castle is seated, and pie embroidered with gold fleurs- then the alabaster stair which leads de-lys, the other in hunter's green to its hall. From thence they sparkling with gems,—their white gaze enraptured at the fair proshorses caparisoned with housings pect at their feet; while inside the of cloth-of-silver,—are emissaries room the goddess of Courtesy, iinf rom the Palace of Courtesy; a aged above her own altar in its stately building erected not far midst, first claims their attention, from Posilippo by Alba, Queen of which is afterwards drawn to the Naples, and by her order so en- portraits that hang on its walls and chanted that none can dwell there represent the knights and ladies who who are not pure in life and will- in future days are to be the most ing to spend their time in doing eminently courteous. Among these, courteous acts to others. Of the Tasso takes care especially to place goodly company of blameless dam- his own friends and those whose sels that inhabit it, one is chosen patronage he was already solicityearly to rule the rest; two of ing; especially Duke Alphonso of whom ride forth in turn daily to Este, whose courtesy towards the invite strangers to the shelter of poet was one day to fail so utterly their house. Rinaldo and Flor- ,—the Prince of Urbino, his early indo willingly follow the two mes- school friend—and his first patron, sengers, and climb first the hill on Cardinal Lewis. Among the pic

tures of courteous ladies, he describes his amiable and learned hostess, Claudia Rangona, and the three princesses of Este,—with two of whom his own fortunes were to be so closely involved. Of these,

however, he only mentions one by name, and that (so little real was the gift of prophecy here assumed), not Leonora, but her elder sister Lucretia, of whom he says :—'

Lucrece of Este' see, whose hair of gold
Shall be the snare and net of chastest love,
Her bright eyes filled with treasures manifold
By heaven's high Maker from His throne above;
Through whom men Pallas, Muse9 famed of old,
Shall praise and yet with greater blame reprove,—
Praise when they see her imitate their skill,
Blame when by her surpassed their work shows ill.

Canto viii.

14.

In this hall the knights sit down with twenty fair damsels to a sumptuous banquet, spread for them and waited on by twenty more. Another score act as cupbearers, while yet another play and sing in chorus during the feast. Each had vied with the rest in readiness to disarm them, and to bring scented waters in golden vessels for their hands before it

began. When the strangers have heard the story of the castle, they are filled with desire to enter its enchanted barque, which, as they learn, Alba prepared of old to carry knights-errant forth to suitable adventures, and which now lies moored in the bay below. So purposing, they retire to rest. On their rising—

When now Aurora, wakened by sweet strain

Of wanton birds, came lovely forth to sight,

With rosy hands the mantle dark of grain

Tearing that wraps the gloomy form of night,

While air, earth, water, gleesome laughed again,

Rejoicing in her treasures rich and bright,

And from her fair face heaven kept sprinkling round

With pearls, of morning dew congealed, the ground,—

Canto viii. 1.

they bid a grateful farewell to their courteous entertainers, receive their parting gifts,—a silver jewelled saddle and accoutrements for Bayard; a surcoat, embroidered, as if by Arachne or Pallas, with the story of Niobe, for Florindo,— and get into the enchanted boat; which straightway, fiying like an arrow from the bow, carries them at once out of sight of shore. Its rapid course is stayed at evening beside a galley of Saracen corsairs, who have just captured a vessel.

Rinaldo leaps on to their deck with his friend and slays the captain of the robber crew; who instantly rush upon him, like bees on an intruder on their hive, but prove powerless to avenge their leader's death, and only procure their own. One alone survives the combat (sent back afterwards by the knights with their defiance to his master); and from him Rinaldo learns that those whom he has killed were servants of the great Paynim king, Mambrino, and that their newly made captives, whom he at once restores to liberty, were destined by them for their monarch's harem. Auristella, the beautiful queen of Arabia, with a train of fair damsels and her attendant knights, owes freedom and honour to Rinaldo, whom she would have gladly gifted with the treasures of the ship to which he restores her. Accepting her thanks only, the two friends return to their magic skiff, which, after it has landed them and their horses on an unknown shore, shoots back as swiftly as it came to Posilippo, there to await the coming of fresh adventurers.

In the strange land in which he finds himself, Rinaldo is speedily reminded of his absent lady; for a pavilion, palatial in size and decorations, which attracts his notice, proves to have been erected to the glory of Clarice by the enamoured Francardo. Her image stands on an alabaster column in the midst of the sumptuous tabernacle; and before it sacrifices smoke and incense burns continually. Hard by the Paynim lover stands, sword in hand, to demand the homage of all comers for his beauteous idol. By the clear light shining from the altar-flame Rinaldo discerns through the air, thick with Arabian perfumes, the eyes whence love first wounded him, the smile to him so inexpressibly sweet, and the lovelocks that first bound his heart. But while he gazes, Francardo's voice summons him harshly to dismount, and offer sacrifice to the image; confessing the while that none but he who thus presides over her worship is worthy to be her lover. "Who art thou? and what thy desert 1" is Rinaldo's rejoinder: "my present purpose is to agree to the first, and dispute the second, proposition." This purpose grows doubly strong when the

young man hears his long-despised rival's name; the blood rushes to his brow, and he declares himself ready to maintain with his sword that Francardo is of all men most unworthy of the privilege of placing his thoughts so high. At this defiance, the Paynim straightway assails him, without taking time to put on his armour. Rinaldo, refusing the encounter on such unequal terms, stands merely on the defensive. Francardo, too enraged to observe the laws of chivalry, rains blows on him notwithstanding; till Florindo's reproaches make him turn his arms against him. In the duel which ensues between Rinaldo's friend and Rinaldo's rival, the former receives a severe wound, but the latter is slain. A general melee follows. Francardo's soldiers rush from the surrounding tents to avenge their general's fall. They are headed by his cousin, Mambrino's brother Clarello, the Warrior of the Lion, — so called from the single combat in which he subdued an enormous lion, which now follows him faithfully to the field. Both attack Rinaldo; but Bayard's kicks keep the king of beasts at bay, till both he and his master fall before the paladin; who, however, mindful of the generosity with which the creature strove to avenge Clarello, changes his cognisance thenceforth, in his honour, from the panther to the lion. Meantime Florindo is getting hard pressed by the other warriors, till Rinaldo, coming to his assistance, makes their mutual victory complete. The survivors take to flight, and no one remains to dispute Rinaldo's right to fair Clarice's image; which he lifts from its pedestal, kisses, and bears away with him.

So soon as Florindo's wounds are healed, the friends pursue their

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