Produced by Douglas B. Killings

Orlando Furious

"Orlando Furious"

By

Ludovico Ariosto

(1474-1533)

Translated by William Stewart Rose

NOTE: Please inform the preparer of any text errors you come across; this edition has been proofed once, but I keep discovering more mistakes all the time.

This work continues from Matteo Maria Boiardo's "Orlando Innamorato," which was left unfinished when the author died in 1494. It starts roughly at the spot where Boiardo ended.

This is a quick summary of Boiardo's work, leaving out most of the many side stories and minor events related to these occurrences:

To the court of King Charlemagne arrives Angelica (daughter of the king of Cathay, or India) along with her brother Argalia. Angelica is the most beautiful woman any of the nobles have ever seen, and everyone desires her. However, to win her as a wife, they first have to defeat Argalia in battle. The two most infatuated with her are Orlando and Ranaldo ("Rinaldo" in Rose).

When Argalia is defeated by the pagan knight Ferrau, Angelica runs away— with Orlando and Ranaldo right behind her. Along the way, both Angelica and Ranaldo drink some enchanted water—Angelica is overwhelmed with passionate love for Ranaldo, but Ranaldo now feels indifferent.

Eventually, Orlando and Ranaldo reach Angelica's castle.
Others also gather at Angelica's castle, including Agricane, the King
of Tartary; Sacripant, the King of Circassia; Agramante, the King of
Africa; and Marfisa (referred to as "Marphisa" in Rose), a warrior Queen from Asia.
Aside from Orlando and Ranaldo, everyone else is a pagan.

Meanwhile, France is under threat from non-Christian invaders. Led by King
Gradasso of Sericana (who mainly wants to go to war to get Orlando's sword, Durindana) and King Rodomonte of
Sarzia, a Holy War between Pagans and Christians breaks out.

Ranaldo leaves Angelica's castle, and Angelica, along with a lovesick (but very chaste and proper) Orlando, heads to France to find him. Once again, they drink from the same waters as before, but this time it's different—Ranaldo now desires Angelica, but she is indifferent to him. Ranaldo and Orlando start to fight over her, but King Charlemagne, worried about the fallout if his two best knights end up killing each other in battle, steps in and promises Angelica to whichever of the two fights best against the enemy; he leaves her in the care of Duke Namus. Orlando and Ranaldo arrive in Paris just in time to fend off an attack by Agramante.

Namus' camp is taken over by the enemy. Angelica manages to escape, with Ranaldo chasing after her. Ferrau is also in pursuit, as he believes Angelica belongs to him since he defeated Argalia. It's at this moment that the poem ends.

While the Orlando-Ranaldo-Angelica triangle unfolds, the stories of other knights and their romances blend in. The most important of these is that of the female knight Bradamante (sister of Ranaldo), who falls for a noble heathen knight named Ruggiero ("Rogero" in Rose). Ruggiero, said to be a descendant of Alexander the Great and Hector, also loves Bradamante, but since they fight on opposite sides, their love seems hopeless. Nevertheless, it is prophesied that they will marry and establish the famous Este line, which will rise to become one of the major families of Medieval and Renaissance Italy (notably, the Estes were patrons of both Boiardo and Ariosto). Opposing this prophecy is Atlantes, an African wizard who aims to disrupt fate and prevent Ruggiero from converting to Christianity. By the poem's end, Ruggiero is imprisoned in Atlantes' castle. However, Bradamante (who has chosen to follow her heart) is in pursuit of her love and is not far behind. It's the Bradamante-Ruggiero story that ultimately takes center stage in Ariosto's work.

Other important characters include: Astolfo, a nobleman and friend of Orlando, who gets kidnapped by the wicked witch Morgana and her sister Alcina; Mandricardo, a fierce but impulsive pagan; and a young knight named Brandimarte, who falls in love with and wins the heart of the beautiful Fiordelisa ("Flordelice" in Rose). All these characters play major or semi-major roles in the events of Ariosto's poem.

Understood! Please provide the text you would like me to modernize.

ARGUMENT
  Angelica, who is scared by the looming danger,
  Runs chaotically through the greenwood shade.
  Rinaldo’s horse gets away; he, following, fights
  Ferrau, the Spaniard, in a clearing of the woods.
  A second oath the arrogant pagan takes,
  And keeps it more faithfully than the first he made.
  King Sacripant recovers his long-lost treasure;
  But good Rinaldo ruins his anticipated 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 Africa came in a hostile fleet,
  And devastated France, led by their king Agramant,
  Fueled by his youthful anger and furious heat,
  Who had sworn to take revenge on King Charles, the Roman emperor,
  For the death of Troyano.

II
  In the same spirit as Roland, I will share
  Things that have yet to be tried in prose or rhyme,
  About a man who was struck by strange madness and intense rage,
  A person once considered very wise;
  If she, who has gone through similar cruelty,
  Has nearly brought my weak mind, which desperately wants to rise,
  To its end, and daily wears me down, grants me the ability
  And strength to keep my bold promise.

III
  Great seeds of Hercules, listen up and please,
  You who are the grace and glory of this age,
  Hippolitus, show kindness to his suffering
  Who offers what he has with a humble heart.
  For even though hoping to settle the debt is pointless,
  My writing and pages might help pay it off a bit;
  So, without a jealous eye, look at my offering,
  And don’t scorn my gifts, as I give you all I can.

IV
  And you, among the most worthy, will hear,
  Whom I’m about to honor with the right praise,
  Let me tell you about the good Rogero, brave knight,
  The proud ancestor of your noble line.
  If you’re willing to listen,
  I’ll recount his deeds and bravery;
  So for a little while, putting aside your serious matters,
  Give your time to my verse.

V
Roland, who had long loved the lady of Catay,
Angelica, and with his sword
Raised countless trophies for that cheerful damsel,
In India, Media, and Tartary,
Had journeyed westward with her;
Near the Pyrenees, with many troops
From Germany and France, King Charlemagne
Had set up his loyal camp on the plain.

VI
  To make King Agramant, as penance, strike
  His cheek, and make rash Marsilius regret the hour;
  This, when all trained with lance and sword to fight,
  He led from Africa to increase his power;
  That other when he attacked, in fierce anger,
  Against the realm of France, Spain's martial pride.
  It was then that Orlando arrived where Charles was camped
  At a bad time, and soon regretted the act.

VII
  For here was taken his lady with unmatched beauty,
  (How often human judgment goes astray)!
  Whom in long battles he had protected from danger,
  From western lands to eastern shores her protector
  In his own country, among friends and family,
  Now without struggle taken from his side.
  Fearing the trouble ignited by her gaze,
  The wise emperor took the prize from him.

VIII
  For daring Orlando and his cousin, free
  Rinaldo, recently competed for the girl,
  Captivated by that rare beauty; since she
  Equally stirred the hearts of both men.
  But Charles, who didn’t appreciate such rivalry,
  And saw it as a sign of weaker support,
  To end the dispute, took the girl,
  And put her in the care of Bavarian Namus.

IX
  Promising with her the warrior to satisfy,
  Who in that fight, on that tragic day,
  With his strong hand provided the most helpful support,
  And killed many pagans in the battle.
  But against his hopes, the battle turned,
  And his reduced troops fled in chaos;
  Namus, along with other Christian leaders captured,
  And his camp abandoned in the retreat.

X
  There, staying with Charles, that kind beauty,
  Destined to be the brave winner's prize,
  Before the situation had arisen for her,
  And turned away from the battle in a time of need;
  Knowing wisely that Fate would turn
  That fateful day against the Christian belief:
  And, entering a dense forest, she found nearby,
  On a narrow path, a knight without a horse.

XI
  With a shield on his arm, like a true knight,
  Belted and armored, his helmet on his head;
  The knight moves through the forest more swiftly
  Than a half-clothed peasant trying to reach the red cloth.
  But not even a frightened shepherdess runs faster
  From a fierce snake as she walks in shock,
  Than poor Angelica turns the reins
  When she spots the approaching knight on foot.

XII
  This was the Paladin, good Aymon's son,
  Who was in charge of Mount Albano;
  And recently, he had lost Baiardo, his brave steed,
  Escaping through a strange adventure from his grasp.
  As soon as he spotted her, the maid riding swiftly,
  The warrior recognized her and, even from a distance, studied
  Her angelic features and gentle demeanor
  That had long kept him trapped in Cupid's snare.

XIII
  The frightened girl turns her horse around,
  And shakes the dangling bridle in the wind;
  In her panic, she doesn’t choose her ground,
  Nor prefers an open grove to a dark thicket.
  But recklessly, pale and trembling, and stunned,
  She lets her horse find the wandering path.
  He wandered up and down the forest with her,
  Until he reached the bank of a wooded river.

XIV
  Here stood the fierce Ferrau in a grim situation,
  Covered in dust, drenched in sweat and blood,
  Who recently had pulled himself out of the fight,
  To rest and drink from that refreshing stream:
  But he had lingered there against his will,
  Since leaning over from the bank in a rush,
  He dropped his helmet into the clear water,
  And fruitlessly tried to recover the lost item.

XV
  There she rushes, and in her wild panic
  she screams in terror;
  Upon hearing her voice,
  the Saracen spots her beautiful face on the shore.
  And, looking as pale as her face, clearly distressed,
  she quickly catches the warrior's eye
  (though he hadn’t heard anything about her for days)
  the beautiful Angelica is finally recognized.

XVI
  Polite, and maybe blessed with a heart
  As warm as either of the two cousins;
  As bold as if his brows were clad in steel,
  He offered the help she needed and drew
  His sword, and confronted Rinaldo,
  Who faced the true champion with little fear.
  Not only did they recognize each other,
  But each had tested the other's strength in battle.

XVII
  So, there they are, the warriors competing
  In brutal battle, sword against sword;
  It’s no surprise that armor or fragile mail would break,
  When the anvils haven’t withstood the deafening strikes.
  Now it’s time for the swift horse to move
  Quickly; while the knights are locked in combat,
  He’s pushed to his limits, with spurs driving him on,
  Through wasteland or woods, the frightened maiden stirs.

XVIII
  After the two had fought for a long time to throw
  Each other down in the struggle, and still failed;
  Since neither brave warrior was weaker than
  His opponent in strength and knightly skill:
  The first to negotiate with his Spanish foe
  Was the good master of Albano's hill
  (Like someone whose furious heart held back
  A wild fire that desperately sought to break free).

XIX
  "You think you're going to hurt me just by yourself,
  But you should know you'll be just as troubled:
  For if we fight because of that rising sun
  That this intense heat has sparked in you.
  What would you gain, and what prize would you get,
  Even if I give up my life or bow down?
  If she will never be your glorious reward,
  Who runs away while we fight in vain and bleed?

XX
  "Then how much better, since we're both in the same situation,
  You, loving like I do, should stick around
  To see the outcome of this battle for the beautiful lady,
  Before she moves on further in her journey.
  Once the lady is taken, we restate our claim
  With our bare swords ready for that unmatched prize:
  Otherwise, after all this hard work, I don’t see what we gain
  But just simple loss and unreturned pain."

XXI
  The nobleman’s proposal made the pagans happy.
  So their fierce argument was set aside;
  And a fair truce replaced that bitter conflict,
  For they forgot their mutual wrongs and the harm done;
  As they prepared to leave, seated in his saddle,
  The Spaniard didn’t let Aymon’s son go on foot;
  Instead, he asked him to ride on his horse’s rear;
  And together they chased the royal lady.

XXII
  Oh! noble truth in knights of the past!
  They were rivals, raised in different beliefs.
  The wounds of the tired warriors weren’t yet cold —
  Still stinging from those fierce and terrible blows.
  Yet they ride together through waste and wilderness,
  And, unaware, weave through the winding path.
  With four spurs digging into his frothing sides,
  Their horse takes them where the road splits.

XXIII
And now the two warriors, confused, because they
didn’t know which way she might urge her horse,
(Since both, without any distinction, there looked
at the recent hoofprints on either path),
they left the chase to chance. In one direction,
the pagan rode on, while Rinaldo walked on.
But fierce Ferrau, lost in the woods,
found himself once again where he had just been.

XXIV
  Next to the water, where he bent down to drink,
  And dropped his knightly helmet — to his regret,
  It sank in the stream; and since he couldn't think
  Of retrieving her, who had recently dashed his hopes.
  He goes to the spot where the treasure fell,
  By the edge of that fast-moving stream, and looks for the lost morion.
  But the helmet is so buried in the sand,
  It won't take much effort to get it back.

XXV
  He cuts a branch from a nearby tree,
  And carves it into a pole:
  With this, he checks the stream, and nervously
  Probes, and digs, and searches every nook and cranny.
  While feeling deeply angry and restless, he
  Waited where the turbulent waters churn,
  Breast-high, from the middle of the river stood upright,
  The ghostly figure of an enraged knight.

XXVI
  He was fully armed except for his head,
  And in his stronger hand he carried a helmet:
  The very helmet that Ferrau searched for,
  Struggling in the riverbed for a long time without success.
  He scowled at the Spanish knight and said:
  "You're a traitor to your word, a perjured Moor,
  Why hesitate to give up the fine helmet,
  Which rightfully belongs to me and has been mine for a long time?"

XXVII
  "Remember, pagan, when your arm took down
  The brother of Angelica. That knight
  Is me; — your word was promised then to give
  After my other arms his shining helmet.
  If Fortune now forces you to give up
  The prize, and do my will against your wishes,
  Don’t be upset about this, but rather feel sorry that you
  Have been found a lying traitor to your vow.

XXVIII
  "But if you’re looking for a helmet, your goal should be
  To earn and wear it for your glory.
  A great prize would be the noble Orlando's helm;
  Rinaldo's is one, or an even better crown;
  Almontes' or Mambrino's iron mask:
  Claim one of these by force of arms as your own.
  And this good helmet will rightly be given
  Where (just as you promised) it has long been deserved."

XXIX
  Every hair on the pagan's body stood on end at the sight
  Of that dark figure rising from the tide,
  And his fresh, healthy color disappeared,
  While the unfinished words died on his lips.
  Next, he remembered Argalia, the man he had killed,
  (That was the name of the warrior) by that stream,
  And he felt the weight of his dishonorable broken promise,
  He was consumed with anger and shame.

XXX
  Without time to justify his lies,
  And fully aware of the truth behind the ghost's story,
  He stood silent; such regret filled him with dread.
  Then, by Lanfusa's life, the warrior vowed,
  Never in battle or raid would he wear
  Any helmet but the one good Orlando wore
  From Aspramont, where brave Almontes lost
  His life as a price to the Christian sword.

XXXI
  And this new vow was kept more honestly
  Than the empty promise made long ago;
  And as he left the stream feeling weighed down,
  He was troubled and upset for many days;
  Still focused on finding Orlando, he
  Wandered wherever he thought he might find the knight.
  A different fate awaited Rinaldo, who
  Had happened upon another path to follow.

XXXII
  The warrior didn’t go far before he spotted,
  Bounding across the path, his noble steed,
  And, "Wait, my Bayardo," Rinaldo shouted,
  "The pain of losing you is too much to bear."
  The horse didn’t respond and didn’t come back,
  Ignorant of his pleas, but ran off faster.
  Furious, Rinaldo takes off after him.
  But let’s follow Angelica, who is fleeing.

XXXIII
Through gloomy forests and darkness, the girl ran,
Over rough, uninhabited moors and wild heights,
While every leaf or branch that rustled sparked
(Of oak, or elm, or beech), such fresh terror,
She franticly hurried her foaming horse
Along strange and twisted paths with wild speed;
And at every shadow, seen in the hidden valley,
Or on the mountain, she feared Rinaldo was behind.

XXXIV
  Like a young roe or fawn of fallow deer,
  Who, sheltered in its home glade,
  Has watched a hungry leopard or tiger attack
  Its mother, leaving her wounded and scared,
  Bounds through the green forest in constant fear
  Of the deadly beast, moving from shade to shade,
  And with each sapling it brushes against, in its pain,
  Believes it's caught between the monster's jaws,

XXXV
  One day and night, and half a day after that,
  The young woman roams around, not knowing where to go;
  Then she steps into a deep forest, where the branches sway,
  Gently stirred by the refreshing breeze that blows.
  Through it, two clear and bubbling rivers flow:
  On their banks, lush greenery thrives;
  As the twin streams slowly make their way,
  They create a melody with the stones, pleasing to hear.

XXXVI
  Thinking to get away from the place
  A thousand miles from the hated Rinaldo's path,
  The young woman plans to rest for a while,
  Tired from her long journey and the summer's heat.
  She gets off her horse amid blooming flowers
  And takes the reins from her swift steed.
  Letting him wander freely along the river,
  Exploring the banks in search of lush grass.

XXXVII
  Look! Close by, she sees a thicket
  Bright with flowering thorns and red roses:
  The patch reflected in the stream that meanders
  Beside it, shaded by surrounding oaks.
  Hollow inside, and hidden from prying eyes,
  It felt like a spot made for relaxation;
  With branches so woven together that light
  Could barely break through the tangled cover, let alone be seen.

XXXVIII
  Nestled in soft moss and grass, she made a bed;
  And tried to comfort and entice the traveler to stay.
  It was there that the tired young woman laid down,
  Her eyes soaked in the soothing mist of sleep.
  But before she could fully relax her tired head,
  She thought she heard the sound of a horse approaching.
  Quietly she got up, and by the nearby river,
  Fully dressed in armor, she saw a knight.

XXXIX
  Whether it's a friend or an enemy, she understands nothing,
  (So hope and fear tear at her uncertain heart)
  And the outcome of the adventure remains silent,
  Not even a sigh disturbs the air.
  The knight steps down from the bank;
  And sits so still, so wrapped up in his thoughts,
  (With his face resting on his arm) that he seemed
  To have turned into lifeless stone.

XL
  Lost in thought for over an hour, with his head down,
  He stayed silent before he started to moan;
  Then he shared his heartbreaking story of grief,
  Lamenting in a voice so soft and sweet,
  He could evoke mercy even from a tiger,
  Or his sorrowful cries could break a stone.
  And so he sighed and cried; like rivers his tears flowed,
  His chest burned like a volcano.

XLI
  "Thought that now makes me burn with anger, now freeze with hatred,
  That gnaws at my heart and festers at its core!
  What's left for me," he said, "came too late,
  While another, more favored, reaps the rewards?
  Just empty words and glances barely lift my spirits,
  And the best rewards go to someone else's pursuit.
  So since there's neither fruit nor bloom for me,
  Why should I continue to suffer in this hopeless pain?

XLII
  "The maiden has her reflection in the rose
  Safe in the garden on its own roots,
  Where it blooms in peace, untouched by shepherd or sheep.
  For this earth is full, and fresh water flows,
  And breeze and morning dew release their sweetness:
  With this, the longing youth fills his heart.
  With this, the love-struck maiden styles her hair.

XLIII
  "But careless hands, as soon as they remove
  From the nurturing source, where it once thrived,
  Everything withers; whatever beauty
  It had with people or the universe; bloom, beauty, lost.
  The girl who should value more than anything
  The flower that belongs to her,
  Letting the thief take the prize,
  Loses her worth in everyone else's eyes.

XLIV
  "And let her be affordable to everyone but the guy
  To whom she gave such a generous gift.
  Ah! false and cruel Fortune! What a nasty trick!
  While others celebrate, I’m stuck in misery.
  Is it possible that I undervalue such treasure?
  Can I really give up my very life?
  No! Let me die; it would be a greater happiness
  Than living longer if I have to stop loving."

XLV
  If anyone asks who caused this sadness,
  And filled the stream with so many tears,
  I say it was the beautiful king of Circassia,
  That Sacripant, burdened by lovesick worries.
  Love is the root of all his troubles,
  The only cause of his pain and fear;
  And he served her as a devoted lover,
  Now fondly remembered by the royal maiden.

XLVI
  He journeyed all the way from the farthest East
  To where the sun goes down to sleep;
  For he found out in India, much to his distress,
  That she had followed Orlando out West.
  Later, he learned in France that Charlemagne
  Had kept her away from that champion and the others,
  As a reward, hiding her for the knight
  Who could best defend the lilies in battle.

XLVII
  The warrior in the field had recently seen,
  King Charlemagne's humiliation;
  And Angelica had searched in vain,
  Finding no sign of the maiden's location.
  And this is what the grieving king lamented,
  And this is how he expressed his sorrow:
  Thus, his lament turned into words,
  That could make even the sun pause in sympathy.

XLVIII
  While Sacripant feels sorry for him in this situation,
  And his eyes become a lukewarm fountain;
  And, what I think isn’t necessary to share,
  He expresses even more complaints and sad cries;
  Kind Fortune will ensure his beautiful lady
  Hears the young man lamenting like this:
  And in just a moment, what would have taken
  A long time to achieve happened by chance.

XLIX
  With a watchful eye, while the warrior cries,
  She notes the way he grieves and sheds tears
  And speaks of the one whose passion never dies;
  This isn't the first confession she's heard, it appears.
  But to his sorrow, her heart feels no reply,
  Cold as the stone that a builder engineers.
  Like an arrogant girl, who sees herself as above
  The world, and thinks no one deserves her love.

L
But to keep her safe from harm in those woods,
The young woman thought she might need his help;
For the poor drowning wretch, who, chin-deep,
Doesn’t ask for help, is truly stubborn.
And if she lets this opportunity slip,
She won’t find anyone who can help her like that:
For she knew that king, through long experience,
Stood out from all other lovers, kind and true.

LI
  But that doesn't stop the maid from trying
  To fix the trouble her charms have caused,
  And to make up for past wrongs
  With the happiness her longing lover seeks.
  Everything she does is to keep the king amused,
  Getting his help through some trick or story,
  And after testing his courage for her own gain,
  She plans to regain her usual proud attitude.

LII
  A sudden, bright vision appeared,
  She stood like Venus or fair Diana,
  In a serious procession, emerging on stage
  From a dark forest or hidden lair.
  And “Peace be with you,” called the young queen,
  “And may God protect my honor in His care,
  And not let you foolishly hold
  A false and vain opinion of my reputation!”

LIII
  Not with such amazement does a mother look,
  With such overwhelming joy for the son she thought
  Was dead, still mourned with tears and sighs,
  Since the thin ranks returned without her boy.
  — Not such was her delight as the king's astonishment
  And pure joy when he saw
  The noble figure, cheeks like those of angels,
  And beautiful form that appeared before him.

LIV
  He, filled with love and excitement, moved
  Closer to his Lady, his divine one;
  And she now held the warrior close to her heart,
  Who in the East might have been less at ease.
  And now again the young woman turned her thoughts
  Towards her homeland and empire:
  And feels, with renewed hope, her heart race
  Soon to reclaim her lavish seat.

LV
  The lady said to him that her chances were all with him,
  Since he was sent to the East to Sericane
  By her to seek the help of the warrior king,
  Who ruled over that beautiful land;
  And she explained how many times Orlando's loyal sword
  Had saved her from disgrace, death, and suffering;
  And how she kept her virginity intact,
  As pure as it was when she was born.

LVI
  Maybe the story was true; still, it doesn't seem
  Believable to someone with common sense:
  But Sacripant, who woke from a worse dream,
  Agreed with everything without argument:
  Since love, which sees without any guiding light,
  Notices in broad daylight only what it likes best:
  For one sign of a troubled person's condition
  Is to easily believe in things that please.

LVII
  "If good Anglante's lord hesitated to take the prize,
  Or missed his chance when he could have,
  Let it be his loss, if Fortune never again
  Invites him to enjoy such a beautiful prize.
  I don’t intend to mimic that foolish lord," said Circassa's knight, aside.
  "To pass up such offered good and, to my shame,
  Only have myself to blame in hindsight.

LVIII
  "No! I will pick the fresh morning rose,
  Which, if I wait, might be faded.
  From my own experience, I know this to be true,
  There’s no gesture more pleasing or welcomed by a woman.
  So, no matter how much the girl might scorn,
  Even if she cries and complains for a bit,
  I will, undeterred by anger, whether justified or not,
  Or by a harsh rejection, continue to pursue my bold plan."

LIX
This said, he got ready for the gentle attack,
When a loud noise echoed through the greenwood shade
Next to him, ringing in his stunned ears,
And despite his reluctance, the king remained.
He put on his helmet (he wore his other armor),
Always used to roam in steel, with a belted sword,
He put the bridle back on his swift horse,
Grabbed his lance, and jumped into his saddle.

LX
  With the fearless look of a brave knight,
  A warrior moves through the misty forest.
  The stranger’s cloak was pure white,
  And just as white was the plume he wore.
  Frustrated and filled with rage,
  The king couldn’t handle the interruption,
  And urged his horse to confront him in the open,
  With anger and fury shining on his face.

LXI
  He challenges him to a fight, getting close,
  And thinks he’ll make him lower his proud head:
  The other knight, whose value I hold just as high,
  Puts his martial skills to the test right now;
  Cuts short his lofty threats and furious shout,
  And kicks his horse, positioning his lance steady.
  In a storm, Circassia's brave warrior twirls,
  And each aims his spear at his opponent's head.

LXII
Not spotted bulls or golden lions charge
Into forest battles with such fierce intent
As these two knights, the stranger and the king.
Their spears equally rattle the opposing shields:
The solid ground, when they clash,
Shakes from fertile valley to barren hill:
And it was good that the armor they wore
Protected their bodies and shielded their hearts.

LXIII
  The horses didn’t deviate from their intended path;
  They collided like rams, crashing head-on.
  The Saracen warrior's unfortunate horse,
  Highly valued while alive, fell short and dead:
  The stranger's horse also collapsed, but was forced
  To rise with a nudge from his grassy spot.
  The pagan king’s horse, lying flat,
  Came down heavy on his battered master.

LXIV
  Sitting tall on his horse, the unknown knight,
  Who in the fight knocked both horse and rider down,
  Thinking enough had happened in the battle,
  Doesn't care to start the pointless fight again;
  But heads straight down the easiest path,
  Riding hard through fields and woods,
  For about a mile, or maybe a little less, in raging anger,
  Before the defeated Saracen manages to get back up.

LXV
  Like the confused and shocked clown
  Who held the plow (after the thunderstorm has passed)
  There, where the loud lightning struck him down,
  Near his deathly injured cattle, wakes in fear,
  And sees the distant pine without its top,
  Which he last saw dressed in green leaves;
  So rose the pagan knight with a worried expression,
  The maiden watching the cruel scene.

LXVI
  He sighs and moans, but not because of any serious pain
  From a hurt arm or a bleeding foot;
  But from pure embarrassment, and never before
  Or after, did his face turn such a deep red,
  And if he regretted his fall, it bothered him even more
  That his lady had to help him from his fallen horse.
  He would have stayed silent, I suppose, if she
  Had not freed his trapped tongue and voice.

LXVII
  "Don't grieve," she said, "my lord, for your fall;
  Just place the blame on your horse!
  Who would have preferred feed, shelter,
  And a break instead of more jousting and danger;
  And truly I can call your enemy the loser,
  (Who will gain no glory) because he
  Is the first to back down, if anything
  Angelica has learned from the battlefield."

LXVIII
  As she searches for the Saracen to lift her spirits,
  A messenger arrives with a bag and a horn,
  On a tired horse! — both man and horse look worn
  From their long journey, exhausted and forlorn.
  He asks Sacripant, coming closer,
  If he’s seen a warrior carrying a white shield and crest;
  In search of this warrior,
  The weary groom is navigating through the wide forest.

LXIX
  King Sacripant replied, "As you can see,
  He threw me down here and then went on his way:
  So tell me the warrior's name, so I can know
  Whose courage defeated me in battle."
  The servant said to him, "What you ask,
  I will tell you right away:
  Know that you were defeated in combat
  By the proven bravery of a noble lady."

LXX
  "The girl is bold; but even more beautiful than bold,
  And I'm not hiding the legendary maiden's name:
  It was Bradamant who spoiled the praise you earned
  With your skill in battle and armor long ago."
  Having said this, he rode off, his story finished,
  And left him feeling hardly relieved by the tale.
  He doesn't care about what he says or does, out of shame,
  And his flushed face ignites with embarrassment.

LXXI
  After the sorrowful warrior had thought long
  About his harsh situation, and still in vain,
  And realized a woman was caused by his defeat,
  Since thinking only added to the king's pain,
  He got on the other horse, not saying a word;
  But silently lifted from the ground,
  He placed that lovely lady on the back,
  Saved for happier times in a safer place.

LXXII
  They hadn’t ridden two miles before they heard
  The echoing woods around them, shaking
  With loud crashes and thundering steps, near and far;
  The forest seemed to shudder all around;
  And soon after, they spotted a horse appear,
  With gear adorned in gold and lavishly designed;
  It burst through the brush and stream, with fierce power
  And anything else that stood in its way.

LXXIII
  "Unless the foggy air," the girl exclaims,
  "And branches trick my eyes, that noble horse
  Is definitely Bayardo, who’s racing ahead of us,
  And cutting through the woods with such incredible speed.
  — Yes, it’s Bayardo himself I can identify.
  How well the horse understands what we need!
  Two riders cannot ride a broken-down horse,
  But here comes the horse to put an end to that worry."

LXXIV
  The fearless Circassian landed and reached out
  To grab him by the loose reins,
  Who, quickly turning, responded with his heels,
  For he spun around the field like lightning.
  Poor king! if he hadn't jumped aside,
  For if he struck, it wouldn't be in vain.
  His strength and power are such that the impact
  Of his strong feet could shatter a metal rock.

LXXV
  So he approaches the maid, humble and eager,
  With sweet words and a modest attitude;
  Like a dog greeting its owner with joyful excitement,
  Whom, not long ago, he hadn't seen.
  For good Bayardo remembered
  Albracca, where her hands made his meals,
  When the girl was in love with brave Rinaldo;
  Rinaldo, then ungrateful, harsh, and distant.

LXXVI
  With her left hand, she grabs the reins,
  And with her right, she strokes his sides and chest:
  While the good horse (so amazing his smarts),
  Obedient and gentle, let the lady pet.
  Meanwhile, the king, seeing the right moment,
  Jumped up and pressed the horse with his knees.
  While on the saddle, relieved of some weight,
  The lady moved from the back and took her seat.

LXXVII
  Then, as if by chance, she looks up,
  Spotting a man in armor on foot,
  And is suddenly filled with anger and resentment;
  Because she recognizes in him the son of Aymon.
  She values the young knight more than her own life,
  But she avoids him, like a crane from a falcon.
  Once the lady sighed, her feelings overlooked;
  Now Rinaldo loves, but it's just as unreturned.

LXXVIII
  And this effect came from two different springs,
  Whose amazing waters inspire different feelings.
  Both arise in Arden, filled with rare qualities:
  This one fills the heart with romantic longing:
  Those who drink from the other spring are unaware
  Of their love, and replace their former passion with coldness.
  Rinaldo drank from the first and sighs in vain;
  Angelica drank from the last and hates and runs away.

LXXIX
  The waters flow mixed with a hidden poison,
  Which love quickly turns into sudden hatred;
  As soon as the maid spotted Rinaldo,
  A deep darkness fell over her laughing eyes:
  With a sad expression and shaking voice, she cried
  To Sacripant, asking him not to delay
  The arrival of the loathed knight,
  But to chase his escape through the woods with her.

LXXX
  To her the Saracen, with intense anger:
  "Has my knightly honor fallen so low,
  That you consider my bravery worthless and not
  Enough to make that champion run away?
  Already have Albracca's battles been forgotten,
  And that terrifying night I stood alone for you?
  That night when I, even unarmed, was your shield
  Against King Agrican and his entire army?"

LXXXI
  She doesn’t respond and, in her fear,
  Has no idea what she's doing; Rinaldo is too close:
  And from a distance, that furious knight
  Threatens the brave Saracen with an angry shout,
  As soon as he sees the familiar horse and the beloved lady,
  Whose beauty had sparked such passion in him.
  But what happened next between the proud couple
  I will explain in another canto.

ARGUMENT
  A hermit intervenes, through a hollow spirit,
  In the risky game of two formidable rivals;
  Rinaldo follows where Love and Hope lead him,
  But is sent in another direction by Charles;
  Bradamante, searching for her loyal knight,
  The brave Rogero, almost falls victim
  To Pinabel, who tosses the courageous lady
  Into the dungeon of a living grave.

I
  Hurtful love, why do you still ruin harmony
  Between desires? It seems to be your favorite trick.
  Why do you enjoy it so much, treacherous lord,
  That two hearts should beat to a different rhythm?
  You won't let me take the safe path,
  Dragging me where the current is deep and swift.
  I leave behind the one my heart longs for,
  While the one who despises me inspires both respect and love.

II
  You show the fair maiden to Rinaldo,
  While he appears monstrous to that gentle lady;
  And he, who once repaid her pride and affection
  With the deepest hatred for her love,
  Now suffers, a victim of despair,
  Rejected in turn, receiving the same fate.
  By the changed woman so thoroughly loathed,
  She would choose death over that despised lord.

III
  He shouts to the Pagan: "Stop your stealing,
  And get down, you false thief, from that stolen horse;
  I don’t usually let my own things be taken.
  And anyone who tries to take it pays a steep price.
  Also — I'm going to take that beautiful girl from you;
  Leaving you with such a prize would be wrong;
  Both the horse and the woman, whose value is beyond belief,
  Would not be right, I think, to just hand over to a thief."

IV
  "You’re lying," the arrogant Saracen replies,
  As proud and burning with a fierce passion,
  "A thief yourself, if what Fame says is true:
  But let good deeds settle our uncertain claim,
  As to whom the horse or fair lady belongs:
  Best proven by courageous acts: though, for the lady,
  Nothing is as precious, I can agree with you
  (Search the whole world if you want)."

V
  Just like two fierce dogs that sometimes stand and stare,
  Fueled by hate or other reasons for conflict,
  Grinding their teeth as each eyes their rival,
  With sideways glances and eyes redder than fire,
  Then one leaps to bite, and they both bark hoarsely,
  While their stiff fur bristles in anger:
  So from insult and threat to drawing the sword
  Rush Sacripant and Clermont's furious lord.

VI
  So stirring up anger, the knights clash:
  One is on foot, the other is on his horse:
  This doesn’t help much; an inexperienced squire
  Would do better to control his horse in this race.
  Baiardo knows better; he won’t fight
  Against his master or use his strength.
  He won’t respond to voice, hand, or control,
  Rebelling against the reins or the spurring goad.

VII
  He, when the king presses him, takes a break,
  Or, when he holds him back, runs in dizzy circles;
  And drops his head beneath his broad chest,
  And flexes his back, then runs off and leaps.
  And now the furious Saracen, stressed out,
  Sees it’s not the time to tame the beast, and leaps,
  With one hand on the saddle, to the ground;
  Clear of the restless horse in one swift move.

VIII
  As soon as Sacripant jumps at just the right moment,
  And escapes the rage of Bayardo,
  You can believe the fight is still ongoing
  Between those champions, equal in spirit and action.
  Their clashing swords maintain a lively rhythm,
  With less speed than Vulcan’s hammer strikes
  In that dark cave where he forges,
  And where Jove’s thunder crashes on his anvil.

IX
  Sometimes they charge, then fake a hit and block:
  True experts in this intense game they play;
  Or strike with a powerful blow and hold their swords
  High up, or crouch and prepare to defend.
  Once more they come together, then tired they pause;
  Now they hide, now reveal themselves, and then retreat,
  And where one knight has given up even a little ground,
  His opponent's foot is firmly placed on that spot.

X
  Suddenly, Rinaldo, now feeling impatient,
  Strikes hard at Sacripant with his raised sword;
  And he brings out his shield made of bone,
  Well reinforced with strong and tough steel:
  Though it’s very thick, Fusberta cuts through it: a groan
  Echoes through the green woods, the dense cover, and sunny glade.
  The pagan’s arm goes numb from the hit,
  And steel and bone shatter like ice.

XI
  When the beautiful girl saw, with fearful eyes,
  Such destruction caused by the sword's power,
  She, like a criminal awaiting her fate,
  Changed her lovely face through deep distress,
  And thought that there was little time to escape
  If she didn't want to become Rinaldo's victim,
  Rinaldo, whom she hated as much as he
  Loves the disdainful girl pitifully.

XII
  So she turned her horse into the dark woods,
  And guided him through rough paths and tangled alleys
  And often turned back her pale face,
  And saw Rinaldo emerge from each thicket.
  Not long after urging the wild ride,
  She came across a hermit in a valley.
  Devotion was evident in his appearance,
  And his long beard hung down to his chest.

XIII
  He was worn out as much by fasting as by age,
  And rode on a donkey, slow and steady;
  His face showed that no wise person
  Had a more precise or pure conscience.
  Though time had calmed the blood
  In his veins, making him weak and modest,
  At the sight of the happy young woman, he
  Was deeply moved out of pure kindness.

XIV
  The lady prayed that kind friar to
  Quickly take her to a nearby haven,
  So she could escape from France,
  And never hear of the hated Rinaldo again.
  The hermit, who was skilled in magic,
  Kept calming the gentle young woman's fears.
  And with the promise of rescue, he shook
  His pocket and pulled out a mysterious book.

XV
  This quickly opened a powerful marvel;
  For no leaf is completed by the wise,
  Before a spirit, summoned at his call,
  Waits for his command like an eager page:
  He, constrained and taught by the magic words,
  Rushes where the warriors confront each other,
  In the cool shade — but not in relaxed enjoyment —
  And steps in between, stopping their fight.

XVI
  "In fairness," he shouted, "let's see
  What the death of an enemy means for either side,
  And what the reward of victory will be
  For whoever wins this battle, without pride,
  If Roland, even though he hasn't fought,
  Or broken a single piece of armor in the fight,
  Brings the joyful lady back to Paris,
  Who has drawn you into this fierce battle."

XVII
  "Just a short mile ahead, I saw the nobleman
  Riding to Paris with that lovely lady;
  They were in high spirits, laughing and teasing,
  And making fun of your intense and pointless struggle.
  It would be wise, while they are still close,
  To chase after the nobleman and lady in their escape:
  For if he gets her to Paris,
  You’ll never see her again."

XVIII
  You might have seen those furious knights
  Change at the demon's story for anger and shame;
  And curse themselves for lacking eyes and ears,
  To let their rival steal the lady away.
  Toward his horse, the good Rinaldo heads,
  Letting out sad sighs that feel like fire;
  And, if he meets up with Orlando — before they part —
  He vows in his rage he will have his heart.

XIX
  So, passing where the eager Bayardo stood,
  He jumps on his back and takes off, fast as the wind,
  Without saying goodbye to his rival in the woods;
  Even less does he invite him to ride behind.
  The spurred horse, in its rush of blood,
  Forces through whatever tries to hold him back,
  Ditch, river, tangled thorns, or marble block;
  He swims across the river and jumps over the rock.

XX
  Don't find it strange, sir,
  That Rinaldo quickly took the horse,
  After searching high and low for so long;
  For he, blessed with the ability to think,
  Was not led by vice to follow his friend,
  But ran ahead of his beloved master, so that he
  Could lead him to where the gentle lady went,
  For whom, as he had heard, he carried a flame.

XXI
  When Angelica, in sudden fear,
  Quickly took off from the pavilion,
  Bayardo noticed the girl as she ran,
  His saddle weighed down by Mount Alban's knight;
  Who then on foot sought a fair fight,
  Matched against a baron of no lesser strength;
  And chased the girl through woods, rivers, and shores,
  Hoping to hand her over to the warrior.

XXII
  And, wanting to lead him to the girl,
  He galloped ahead, still playful and wild;
  But he wouldn’t let his master ride on, worried
  That he might choose a different path.
  So he tempted Rinaldo through the shadows,
  Twice bringing him to his surprise target;
  Twice thwarted in his effort: first by brave
  Ferrau; then Sacripant, as mentioned before.

XXIII
  Now good Bayardo had believed the news
  Of that beautiful lady, which brought about the agreement;
  And trusting in the devil's clever story,
  He resumed his usual service to his lord.
  Look at Rinaldo then, furiously riding,
  And pushing his horse towards Paris!
  Though he rides fast, the champion's desires move
  Faster; even the wind would seem too slow.

XXIV
  At night, Rinaldo lets his horse rest, feeling sore
  From the burning desire to confront Anglante’s lord;
  He believed the false news
  From the deceitful messenger of that old wizard:
  For that day and the next, with loose reins,
  He rode until the royal city appeared before
  Him; where Charlemagne had gathered
  With the unfortunate remains of his shattered army.

XXV
  He, because he fears the African king's pursuit,
  Calls on his vassals to gather fresh supplies,
  Replenish their resources, clean their ditches,
  And repair their walls.
  He also thinks about what might best trouble the enemies and keep them safe,
  And quickly makes plans to send an ambassador to England,
  To gather new forces for defense.

XXVI
  He's determined once more to test his luck
  In the battlefield, even though he was recently humiliated;
  And send Rinaldo to the nearby country
  Of Britain, which later became known as England.
  The Paladin wasn't keen on crossing the strait;
  Not because he disliked the people or the land,
  But because King Charles was abrupt; he wouldn't
  Allow the brave envoy even a single day to hold off.

XXVII
  Rinaldo never did anything
  Less willingly, held back in his pursuit
  Of that beautiful face he was chasing,
  Whose allure had stolen his heart away.
  Yet, in obedience to the Christian king,
  He readied himself to fulfill the royal command.
  To Calais, the good envoy hurries with speed,
  And on the same day boards the ship with his horse.

XXVIII
  And there, disregarding the cautious pilot's skills
  (So eager was he to get back home),
  He set sail on the uncertain sea, which promised trouble,
  And rolled its heavy waves, white with foam.
  The wind, furious that he went against its will,
  Stirred up the waves; and as the darkness gathered,
  The booming storm and the fury of the tempest increased,
  So much that the waters shot up to the topmast height.

XXIX
The alert sailors, being cautious,
Take down the mainsail and try to turn around;
They want to head back in a panic to the harbor
From which, at a bad time, they set sail without much care.
— "Not so," shouts the wind, stopping them in their tracks,
"Such a small punishment won't make up for the risk."
And when they desperately try to change direction, the wind roars louder
And slams back against their swaying bow, getting even more aggressive.

XXX
The wind blows fitfully from both sides,
And never calms its fierce anger;
While the battered ship sails with a humble rigging
Amidst the waves, as the storm howls.
But I, who am still chasing a changing story,
Must take a moment away from the knight, who struggles
In a tiring battle against the wind and waves;
To pursue a beautiful maiden of his lineage.

XXXI
  I'm talking about that famous lady, whose spear
  Knocked King Sacripant down to the ground;
  The admirable sister of the brave knight,
  Born of Beatrix and the noble Duke Aymon.
  Through daring acts and strength no less valued
  By Charlemagne and France: Since she’s shown
  Her prowess among the best, tested many times,
  Equal to the great Rinaldo’s, her skills were clear.

XXXII
  A knight was courting the lady,
  Who came from Africa with Agramant;
  Rogero was his brave father's name,
  His mother was the daughter of Agolant.
  And she, who was not from bear or lion stock,
  Did not hold back her love for the Child,
  Though harsh Fate, meeting their wishes poorly,
  Had given the couple only one chance to meet.

XXXIII
  From that point on, she looked for her lover (he
  Was named after the one who gave him life),
  And wandered as freely as if surrounded
  By thousands, believing in her own strength.
  She had made the king of Circassy
  Bow to the face of the old mother earth,
  Crossed a forest, and after that, a mountain;
  And finally stopped beside a beautiful fountain.

XXXIV
  A sweet stream of mead flows gently,
  Shaded by ancient trees as it glides away;
  And whoever hears its soothing sounds,
  Is beckoned to drink and relax on its banks;
  To the left, a cultivated hill
  Blocks the heat of the midday sun.
  As the girl first casts her gaze there,
  She spots a young knight seated nearby;

XXXV
  A knight, resting in the shade,
  Looks lost, like he's in a sad dream;
  And on the bank, where bright flowers bloom,
  Lying back, leans over the clear stream.
  His horse is beneath a wide beech tree,
  And from a branch, his shield and helmet gleam.
  While his tearful eyes and gloomy demeanor,
  Show he's a broken victim of despair.

XXXVI
  Driven by the passion found in everyone,
  An eager curiosity to understand
  The troubles of others, the kind girl spoke
  To the knight, asking about the cause of his pain.
  And he revealed to her his hidden sorrow,
  Moved by her kind words and polite demeanor,
  And by that brave presence, which at first glance,
  Ready those who saw her for a swift knight.

XXXVII
  "Good sir, I brought a group of cavalry and infantry," he said,
  "I came to Charlemagne; and there I pressed on,
  Where he set a trap for Marsilius,
  Coming down from the Pyrenean ridge;
  And with me was a lady,
  Whose beauty had ignited my passionate love.
  As we traveled by the banks of the Rhone, I
  Spotted a rider on a flying horse.

XXXVIII
  "The thief, whether he was a man or a ghost,
  Or a cursed creature doomed to endless misery,
  As soon as he saw my beloved girl,
  Like a falcon swooping down for its catch,
  He sank into thought and then rose; and taking flight,
  He grabbed hold of his prize and snatched her away.
  So swift was the act that it all felt like a dream,
  Until I heard the girl’s scream in the air.

XXXIX
  "The greedy kite swoops down and steals, when
  Hovering over the protected yard, she sees
  A helpless chick near an unwatchful hen,
  Who foolishly screams after the thief.
  I can't reach the mountain robber's lair,
  Surrounded by cliffs, or chase one who flies.
  Besides, my tired horse is out of breath,
  Who among these rocks has lost both wind and speed.

XL
  "But I, like someone who would rather have seen his heart ripped out than let his wounded side bleed,
  left my loyal troops without a leader to roam
  along the cliffs and the least desolate paths;
  And followed the route (love led me there)
  where it seemed the heartless thief had taken,
  climbing to his lair, the beautiful prize,
  when he stole my hope and peace away."

XLI
  "I rode for six days, from morning until sunset,
  By terrifying cliffs, through gloomy and dreary depths;
  And dizzying drops where no path existed,
  With no signs or traces of people around.
  Finally, I reached a dark and barren valley,
  Where cavernous mountains and rough cliffs stood;
  In the center, a jagged stone rose up,
  With a beautiful castle sitting on the rock.

XLII
  "From a distance, it shone like a flame, and looked like it wasn’t made
  Of marble or brick; to my eyes
  The more amazing the craftsmanship, the more beautiful the walls
  Appeared as I got closer.
  Later, I found out it was built by a spirit
  Summoned by powerful fumes and magic:
  Who anchored its steel towers on this rock,
  Hardened in the waters and fire of Styx.

XLIII
"Each shiny turret glows with a light
That resists the decaying rust and rain:
The thief roams the land day and night,
And then finds refuge in this secure domain.
Nothing is safe that he would take away;
Chased with curses and threats, all in vain.
There (with every hope to outsmart him wasted)
The criminal holds my love, oh! say my heart.

XLIV
  "Alas! What more is there for me to do but to look
  At her prison on the top of that cliff?
  Like the mother fox, who hears her pups cry,
  Standing under the nest of a hungry eagle;
  And since she doesn't have wings to soar and escape,
  She runs around the jagged rock in a desperate search.
  So unreachable is the wild territory
  For anything that doesn’t have feathers and wings.

XLV
  "While I hung around where those rocks rise,
  I saw a dwarf leading two noble men;
  Their arrival boosted my hope and desire
  (Unfortunately! Both hope and desire were pointless)
  Both were brave barons, fierce in their anger:
  One was Gradasso, King of Sericane,
  The other, a youthful knight well-respected
  In the Moorish court, named Rogero."

XLVI
  "The dwarf shouted, `These heroes will test
  Their strength against the one who lives on that height,
  And in such a strange and untried manner
  Launches the winged horse from his mountain lair.'
  And I said to the approaching warriors,
  `Please, good sirs, have compassion for the terrible loss I mourn,
  And, as I hope, if that bold thief is defeated,
  Bring my lost lady back into my arms.'

XLVII
  "Then I share how my love was taken from me,
  Proving with bitter tears my deep sadness.
  They offer help and make their way down the stony path
  That winds around the rocky mountain.
  While I, left alone on the peak,
  Watch and pray to God for their success.
  Beneath the clever wizard's stronghold
  Lies a small plain, two bowshots long.

XLVIII
"Arriving at the rugged castle, the two
Compete over which warrior will start the fight.
Whether the first lot went to Gradasso,
Or young Rogero lifted the honor light,
The King of Sericane blew his bugle,
And the rock echoed and the fortress on the height;
And, look! geared up for the daunting contest,
The knight on his winged horse!

XLIX
  "Little by little, the winged horse rises
  Like a pilgrim crane
  That doesn't find its balance and wings right away,
  Running and barely lifting off the ground;
  But when the flock takes off and spreads out, it
  Spreads its wings to the wind and soars high.
  So does the necromancer ascend,
  Not even the eagle dares to fly so high.

L
  "When the moment is right, he turns his horse around,
  Who folds his wings and drops from the sky,
  Diving like a well-trained falcon to the ground,
  Spotting the prey, whether it's a duck or a pigeon, fly:
  So, through the parting air, with a whooshing sound,
  With his lance at the ready, he plummeted from above;
  And while Gradasso barely notices the enemy,
  He hears him swooping close and feels the impact.

LI
  "The wizard on Gradasso breaks his spear,
  He strikes at the empty air in angry frustration.
  This doesn't scare the feathered monster;
  It shifts away and swoops back down again.
  While that clash caused the Alfana to rear,
  It stumbled back onto its haunches on the ground.
  The Alfana that the Indian king rode,
  Was the most beautiful horse ever ridden by man.

LII
  "Up to the starry sky with a quick rise
  The wizard soars, then dives from above,
  And strikes young Rogero, who, focused
  On Gradasso, thinks no threat is near.
  Under the wizard's strike, the warrior bent,
  Which caused his noble horse to sway;
  And when he turned to hit the moving foe,
  He saw him in the sky, just out of reach."

LIII
  "His punches, Rogero, now Gradasso, hit hard
  On forehead, chest, back, or sides, everywhere;
  While he avoids the warrior's wild strikes,
  Shifting so fast he’s almost out of sight.
  Now one thing, now another, the wizard picks,
  The monster creates such wide and clean circles,
  While the enchanter tricks the knights so well,
  They can't see him, and don’t know from where he attacks.

LIV
"Between the two on earth and the one in the sky,
Until that hour, the battle raged on,
Which, spreading its dark veil far and wide,
Colors everything beautiful in the world.
What I saw, I say; I'm not adding anything,
I hardly dare
To share with others what I witnessed;
It seems so strange, so beyond Nature's rules.

LV
  "Well wrapped in a fine silk cover,
  He, the heavenly warrior, carried his shield;
  But why he delayed to remove the cloak,
  I don’t know, and its bright orb was hidden.
  As soon as it shines in his face,
  His enemy falls back, stunned on the ground;
  And while he, like a motionless body, remains,
  He becomes the necromancer's easy catch.

LVI
  "The magic shield glowed like a bright red gem,
  No light was ever seen that was so intense:
  The warriors couldn’t help but be stunned,
  Blinded by the clear and dazzling brilliance.
  I, too, who watched from a far-off mountain,
  Fell unconscious; and when I came to,
  After a long time, I saw no knights or pages,
  Just a dark and empty stage."

LVII
  "Meanwhile, I thought the wicked sorcerer
  Had taken both warriors to his prison;
  And through the strange power of the shield revealed,
  I lost my hope, and they lost their freedom;
  So I said my final goodbye to the towers
  That surrounded my heart as I left.
  Now add up my sorrows, and tell me if love
  Brings any other pain or grief that compares to mine."

LVIII
  The knight fell back into his original affliction,
  After finishing his sad story.
  This was Count Pinabel, from Maganza,
  Anselmo d'Altaripa's unfaithful son.
  He, where the blood was tainted throughout all levels,
  Refused to be the only virtuous one;
  Nor acted like a simple man among the low,
  Outdoing the criminals of his lineage in wrongdoing.

LIX
With her expression still shifting, the beautiful lady
Hears what the sorrowful Maganzese tells;
And at the first mention of Rogero's name,
Her glowing face lights up with eager joy.
But filled with pity, she becomes inflamed
As Pinabel recounts his cruel imprisonment.
She doesn't find the story old, even though it's told twice;
Instead, she often makes him repeat and continue his tale.

LX
  And when she thought everything was clear,
  She called to the knight, "Rest on my word.
  My arrival should mean a lot to you,
  And you should consider this day a lucky one.
  Quickly take me to the castle, sir knight,
  Where a jewel shines with such brilliance:
  And you won’t regret your effort and your care,
  If Fortune is just a bit kind to me."

LXI
  The knight replied, "Then nothing is left for me
  But to show you the mountain passes ahead;
  And honestly, it's not much of a loss to give up my efforts,
  When everything I value is already gone below.
  But you want to climb those cliffs, and for your own interests
  You will find yourself in a trap, and so be it!
  Whatever happens to you, blame only yourself;
  You are warned in advance about the fate that awaits you."

LXII
  Having said that, the knight gets back on his horse,
  And leads the brave lady as a guide;
  She is ready to break Rogero's prison,
  Or to be killed, or stuck in his cell.
  Then suddenly! a messenger, rushing fast,
  Shouted to the lady to stop, riding and yelling.
  This was the courier who informed Circassa's lord
  About the brave hand that had taken him down on the ground.

LXIII
  The messenger, who was always on the move,
  Brought news from Narbonne and Montpellier:
  How both had raised the banner of Castile,
  While all of Acquamorta sided with the Moors;
  And how the discouraged men of Marseille appeal
  To her, who should defend her troubled shore;
  And how, through him, her citizens ask
  For guidance and support from their leader.

LXIV
  This lovely town, with miles of flat land,
  Located between the Var and the Rhone, by the sea,
  Was granted to her by King Charlemagne:
  He had such faith in her loyalty.
  People still gather in amazement on the battlefield
  To witness the bravery of that fearless woman.
  And now the breathless messenger, as I mentioned,
  Rode from Marseilles to request the lady's help.

LXV
  Whether she should answer the call,
  The young woman hesitates for a bit;
  Fame and Duty weigh heavily on one side,
  But gentler thoughts push both Fame and Duty aside:
  In the end, she decides to take on the challenge,
  And rescue Rogero from the enchanted spot:
  Or, if her courage falters in the quest,
  She would share her beloved's imprisonment.

LXVI
  And with that excuse, he decided to stay,
  Willing to wait on her decision:
  Then he turned the reins to continue on
  With Pinabel, who didn’t seem too pleased.
  Since he knows that the lady is charming,
  Held in both open and secret disdain;
  And he anticipates future troubles for himself,
  If he's found out as a Maganzese.

LXVII
  Between Maganza and old Clermont’s territory
  There was an old and fierce rivalry:
  And often the two families clashed,
  And often they stained their hands with each other’s blood.
  And so, some treachery against this noble lady
  Was plotted in the wicked County’s heart;
  Or, whenever the chance arose, he would wander
  Off the path and leave her behind.

LXVIII
And so the traitor's anxious mind was tortured
by fear, doubt, and his own bitter nature,
that without realizing it, he strayed from the path,
and found himself in a dark forest:
where a rugged mountain loomed,
its rocky peak rising above the trees;
the daughter of Dodona's duke followed him,
trailing closely behind through the dense underbrush.

LXIX
  He, when he found himself in the thicket,
  Thought about leaving his unaware enemy;
  And to the lady — "It would be better if we head
  For shelter before the darkness gets worse;
  And, beyond that mountain, (unless I'm wrong)
  There’s a tower down in the valley.
  Do you expect me to stand here while I try to remember
  The place I’m looking for from the peak?"

LXX
  Saying this, he urged his horse up the steep
  Of that lonely mountain; in his wicked mind
  Planning, as he rode, some trick or scheme
  To get rid of the kind lady behind.
  And suddenly! a rocky cave came into view,
  Amid those dark and deafening cliffs:
  Its walls dropped thirty yards and more,
  Sculpted smooth, and at the bottom was a door.

LXXI
  There was an emptiness below, where a wide
  Door led to a deeper room:
  From there, a light shone out in every direction,
  Like a torch lighting up the darkness.
  Beautiful Bradamant chased her untrustworthy guide,
  Lingering there, thinking about her fate:
  And found the criminal where he stood,
  Afraid she might lose him in the woods.

LXXII
  When her initial plan to catch the County fell through,
  The clever traitor tried to fix his traps,
  And come up with a new scheme
  To get rid of her or end her for good.
  So he went to meet the lady as she approached,
  And pointed out the cave, asking her to come in;
  He said he had seen
  A lovely young woman with a captivating appearance at the bottom.

LXXIII
  Who, with her beautiful appearance and fancy dress,
  Looked like a lady of high status;
  But she was sad, crying, and troubled,
  Like someone who was suffering in captivity:
  And just as he approached the entrance,
  To find out who that unhappy girl was,
  Someone rushed towards the sad maiden,
  And pulled her into that inner cave.

LXXIV
  The beautiful Bradamant, who was more daring
  Than cautious, listened closely; and, determined
  To help the girl trapped in that place,
  Looked for a way to attempt the steep descent.
  Then, looking around, she spotted an old elm tree,
  Which provided immediate means for her purpose:
  And from the tree, with its branches and leaves,
  She cut off a long branch and shaped it with her sword.

LXXV
  She handed the severed end to the count,
  Then, grabbing it, hung down that steep entrance.
  With her feet first, suspended by her arms:
  When asked if she could jump,
  The traitor laughed, extending his hands.
  And threw his helpless victim into the deep.
  "And this," shouted the thug, "is how I can speed
  With you, every spawn of your cursed lineage!"

LXXVI
  But not, as Pinabel wanted,
  Such a cruel fate did fair Bradamant face;
  Because when she hit the bottom of the cell,
  The strong elm branch held her weight for a long time,
  That, even though it cracked and splintered when it fell,
  It broke her fall and saved the gentle girl.
  For a while, the lady lay there in shock,
  As the next canto will show.

ARGUMENT
  Regaining her senses, the beautiful Bradamant
  Finds wise Melissa in the arched tomb,
  And hears from her about many famous plants
  And warriors who will come from her womb.
  Next, to free Rogero from the lair
  Of old Atlantes, she learns how to take,
  From the servant named Brunello, his virtuous ring;
  And thus break the knight's and others' chains.

I
  Who will give me a voice that can rise
  As high as I want to elevate my noble theme?
  Who will provide suitable words and lend
  Wings to my verse so it can soar as I plan?
  Since a fiercer fire for such an illustrious purpose,
  Than what was typical, might just fit my song.
  For this beautiful tribute is owed to my lord
  Which sings of the ancestors from whom his lineage came.

II
  Than whose fair line, among those chosen by heavenly grace
  To serve this earth below,
  You don’t see, Phoebus, in your daily journey,
  One who stands out more beautifully in peace or war;
  Nor a lineage that has maintained its status longer;
  And it will continue to do so, if the lights that shine
  Within me can truly inspire my soul,
  As long as the blue sky circles around the pole.

III
But if I want to fully showcase its value,
Not my efforts alone are needed, but that noble lyre
Which sang your praises, making the thunder sound,
When the giants fell into their deserved punishment.
Yet if you provide instruments more suitable to uplift
The dedicated work, as I hope you will,
I will dedicate all my effort and thought
To create and illustrate the grand design.

IV
  Until when, this chisel might be enough to shape
  The stone and guide my lines in the right way;
  And maybe future efforts will help,
  To finally make the tough work perfect.
  Now let’s go back to him, for whom the armor
  Of chain mail, shield, and helmet offered little protection:
  I’m talking about Pinabel the Maganzeze,
  Who hopes for the lady's death, whose downfall he witnesses.

V
  The cunning traitor thought that the sweet girl
  Had died on the dark cavern floor,
  And with pale faces, he quickly left
  Through that door, which he had tainted.
  Then, returning, he climbed back into his seat:
  And like someone possessed by a wicked spirit,
  To commit another sin on top of his evil actions,
  He took away the warrior maiden's horse.

VI
  Let's leave behind the miserable person who, while plotting against someone else, sealed his own fate;
  And let's turn to the young woman he deceived,
  Who almost met her end right there.
  She, after getting up from the ground, startled
  By her painful fall, and looking through the darkness,
  Saw and went through that inner door, which led
  Into another, larger cave.

VII
  The first cave in the second ended,
  Built like a church, spacious and square;
  With a roof skillfully crafted by an architect
  On columns of rare, beautiful alabaster.
  The flame of a bright lamp rose up
  Before the central altar; its light,
  Illuminating the entire area,
  Shone through the entrance, lighting up the cave outside.

VIII
  Filled with sacred thoughts that linger
  In a worthy spirit in a holy place,
  She prays with eager lips and a light heart,
  To the one who controls all earthly grace:
  And, kneeling, hears a secret door creak
  In the opposite wall; where, face to face,
  A woman comes out, the maid speaks to her,
  Barefoot, unbound, and with tangled hair.

IX
  "O kind Bradamant," the woman exclaimed,
  "Know that your arrival in this sacred place
  Was not without a heavenly guide:
  For the prophetic spirit of Merlin revealed,
  You would come to this cave by an unknown path,
  Which hides the legendary magician's remains.
  And here I have been waiting for you,
  To share what the heavens have declared."

X
  "This is the famous ancient cave
  That Merlin, the wise enchanter, created:
  You may have heard how that brave magician
  Was tricked by the Lady of the Lake.
  Below, underneath the cave, is the grave
  That holds his bones; for that lady’s sake,
  He laid out his limbs (as she demanded).
  While alive, he placed himself there, and now he lies dead.

XI
  "But the spirit of the immortal still lives;
  Trapped in the enchanter's body, until the skies
  Summon it with a trumpet call, or to endless pain,
  As it rises with the wings of a dove or raven.
  But the voice still exists, and you'll hear it clearly
  From its marble tomb crying out:
  Since this has always taught the past and future
  To anyone who has sought its advice."

XII
  "Many days have gone by since I came from afar
  To guide my way to this graveyard,
  Where I explored the solemn secrets,
  Hoping Merlin would reveal more to me;
  And having completed my plan,
  I’ve stayed here for a month because of you;
  Since Merlin, with his deep wisdom,
  Declared this moment for your arrival."

XIII
  The daughter of Duke Aymon stood in shock,
  And quietly listened to the conversation; while she
  Couldn't help but wonder at everything happening,
  Whether it was a dream or real life.
  Finally, with a modest expression and her eyes lowered,
  She responded (like someone filled with humility),
  "And is this being done for me? Do I have any worth
  That deserves the workings of a prophetic spirit?"

XIV
  And filled with joy, the strange adventure continues,
  Hurrying after the lady,
  Who leads her to the tomb that holds
  The bones and spirit of the once-great Merlin.
  The tomb, made of the hardest stone that masons use,
  Shone smooth and bright, as red as fire.
  So even though no sunlight broke through the darkness,
  Its brilliance illuminated the underground room.

XV
  Whether it's the natural effect
  Of certain stones, shining like a torch in the dark,
  Or the power of spells or incense,
  (A guess that seems to hit closer to the truth)
  Or a sign made under a mystical constellation,
  The light that emerged from the burial box
  Revealed sculptures, colors, gems, and gold,
  And everything else that decorated the building.

XVI
  As soon as Bradamant lifted her foot over the edge
  And stepped into the hidden cave,
  A living spirit spoke in resonant tones that excited her,
  Addressing the warrior virgin from beyond the grave;
  "May luck, pure and noble maiden, grant
  All your wishes!" exclaimed the daring wizard.
  "From you, a royal lineage will arise,
  Whose name will echo throughout Italy and beyond."

XVII
"The noble blood from ancient Troy,
Merging in you its two most glorious streams,
Will be the adornment, and bloom, and delight
Of every lineage touched by Phoebus's light,
Where friendly stars provide warmth, or cold brings distress,
Where the Indus, Tagus, Nile, or Danube shines;
And in your descendants and long-lasting line
Shall marquises, counts, dukes, and Caesars shine.

XVIII
  "Leaders and noble knights will rise from you,
  Who through both skillful weaponry and wise knowledge,
  Will once more bring to grieving Italy
  Her historic glory and reputation in battle;
  And in her lands fair rulers will be placed,
  (Like Numa and Augustus were in the past),
  Who with their kind and wise governance,
  Will restore the golden age on earth."

XIX
  "Then, may the will of Heaven be properly fulfilled
  To a good conclusion through you, at the right time,
  Which from the start has blessed your love,
  And chosen young Rogero to be your partner,
  Let nothing interfere to disrupt that idea,
  But confidently follow the path set by fate;
  And don't let anything stop you until the thief is defeated
  By your good lance, who keeps you from your own."

XX
  Here Merlin stopped, so that Melissa could prepare with the right spell,
  To show brave Bradamant, in a suitable form,
  The heirs who would grow her famous lineage.
  So she chose many spirits; but from where they came,
  I don't know, or if they were summoned from hell;
  And gathered in one place (as the lady commanded),
  In different clothes and appearances the shadows arrived.

XXI
  Having done this, she called the maid into the church,
  Where she had drawn a magic circle, wide enough
  To fit the girl lying down;
  With the full width of a palm next to it.
  And on her head, to keep spirits away,
  A pentacle was tied for extra protection.
  She told her to stay quiet, stand still, and watch,
  Then read and commanded the demons from her book.

XXII
  Look! Out of that first cave comes an endless swarm
  Pressing on the circle's sacred edge,
  But when they try to break through the magical barrier,
  They find the way blocked as if by a ditch or mound;
  Then the crowd turns back in various shapes;
  And when it circles around three times,
  They troop back into the cave,
  Where that beautiful urn stands, the wizard's grave.

XXIII
  "To detail the powerful actions and value,
  And name each person who shows up in a vision,
  Is already visible to us before he’s born,"
  Said wise Melissa to the bright young woman;
  "To recount the deeds they'll perform on earth,
  Would be an endless task even by morning.
  So I will mention just a few notable people from your lineage,
  As time and good circumstances allow."

XXIV
  "Look at that firstborn of your noble line,
  Who truly shows your beautiful and joyful face;
  He, the first of yours and Rogero's blood,
  Will establish your noble lineage in Italy.
  In him, see the one who will poison the mead,
  And stain his good sword with the blood of a lowly Pontier;
  He'll right the great wrong and punish the traitor,
  By whom his princely father's blood was shed.

XXV
  "Through him, King Desiderius will be challenged,
  The brave leader of the Lombard army:
  And of the lands of Calaon and Este;
  For this emperor Charles will make him a lord.
  Hubert, your grandson, follows close behind; the finest
  Of Italy, armed and ready with his sword:
  Who will protect the church from savage enemies,
  And more than once guarantee her safety."

XXVI
  "Next up is Alberto, the unbeatable leader, look,
  Whose victories will fill so many temples.
  Hugh, the brave son, is with his father, and he
  Will conquer Milan and show off the trophies.
  Azo, the one who’s coming next,
  And, with his brother gone, will rule the Insubri.
  Behold! Albertazo! By whose advice it’s done,
  See Berengarius exiled, along with his son.

XXVII
  "Otho, the emperor, will marry his beautiful daughter
  with honor and dignity.
  And look! Another Hugh! Oh, noble lineage!
  Oh! A father followed by a deserving heir!
  He will justifiably thwart their evil plans,
  defeating the arrogant Romans;
  He will take the supreme pontiff from their grasp,
  and break their alliance with the third Otho."

XXVIII
  "Look at Fulke, who will give his brother
  All his Italian inheritance and power
  To take a great dukedom far away
  From his beautiful home in northern Germany.
  There he will live in the house of Saxony,
  And support the ruin with his helpful hand;
  This he will inherit through his mother's line,
  And maintain and bless it with his descendants.

XXIX
  "More known for his kindness than his battle skills,
  Azo the second, he who comes next!
  Bertoldo and Albertazo are his kids:
  And look! the father walks between his heirs.
  By the walls of Parma, I see the Germans suffer,
  Their second Henry defeated; such a trophy he holds
  The one famous in future tales:
  The next will marry Matilda, pure and wise.

XXX
  "His virtues will earn such a beautiful reward,
  (And in his time, I know, no ordinary grace)
  To inherit half of Italy as a dowry,
  With that descendant of the first Henry's lineage.
  Rinaldo will take over his authority,
  A symbol of Bertoldo's wedded love, and pursue
  Fierce Frederick Barbarossa's mercenary troops,
  Protecting the church from his greedy grasp.

XXXI
  "Another Azo is in charge of Verona's city,
  With its beautiful fields; and during this time,
  (One wears the pope's crown, the other the emperor's),
  The baron, Marquis of Ancona by title.
  But showing all who carry the banner
  Of the council, among that group,
  Would take too long; just as long to recount every action
  Done for Rome by your loyal descendants.

XXXII
  "Look at Fulke and Obyson, more Azos, Hughs!
  Both Henrys! — notice the father and his son.
  Two Guelphs: the first conquers the beautiful land of Umbria,
  And will wear Spoleto’s ducal crown.
  See the noble vision that follows,
  That will turn Italy's long suffering into joy;
  I’m talking about the fifth Azo in your lineage,
  By whom Ezelin will be defeated and killed.

XXXIII
  "Fierce Ezelin, that most inhuman lord,
  Who will be seen by people as a child of hell.
  And do such evil, cutting down with the sword
  Those who live in the ruined cities of Ausonia;
  Rome will no longer remember her Anthony,
  Her Marius, Sylla, Nero, and fallen Cajus.
  And this fifth Azo will bring destruction and shame
  To Frederick, the second Caesar of that name.

XXXIV
  "He, happily holding his rightful scepter,
  Shall govern the city, sitting by the rivers,
  Where Phoebus mourned on his sad lyre
  For the son, untrusted with his father’s light;
  Where Cygnus spread his wings, and the fragrant
  Amber was mourned, as the imaginative poet dreams.
  To him the church shall grant such honor;
  A fitting reward for his deeds and courage."

XXXV
  "But isn't there any laurel for his brother,
  Aldobrandino, who will bring joy
  To Rome (when Otho, allied with the Ghibellines,
  Brings fear to the troubled capital),
  And make the Umbri and Piceni acknowledge
  Their shame, and plunder the cities far and wide;
  Then, desperate to save the holy place,
  Beg the nearby Florentine for money:

XXXVI
  "And trust a noble brother to his fate,
  With no precious promise more than this bond:
  And then, after conquering the German troops,
  Let his victorious flags fly in the wind:
  To the suffering church, return her lands,
  And take rightful revenge on Celano’s kin.
  Then die, cut short in the bloom of youth,
  Under the banners of the Papal authority?

XXXVII
  "As he dies, he leaves his brother Azo as the heir
  Of Pesaro and the beautiful Ancona's rule,
  And all the cities that lie between the Tronto,
  And the green Isauro river, from the mountains to the sea;
  With other treasures, more valuable and rare,
  A strong mind and unwavering faith.
  Everything else belongs to Fortune in this life;
  But Virtue rises above her affection and anger.

XXXVIII
  "In noble Rinaldo, true worth will shine,
  (That’s the promise of his early passion)
  If such a hope comes from your noble line.
  May Dark Fate and Fortune not bring their wrath.
  Alas! From Naples, in this far-off place,
  Naples, where he’s held as a hostage for his father,
  His funeral song is heard: A young man of your lineage,
  Young Obyson, will take his grandfather's place.

XXXIX
  "This lord will unite his territory
  with vibrant Reggio, alongside bold Modena's land.
  And his renowned courage will shine so bright,
  that the eager people will ask him to lead.
  Sixth of his name, Azo proudly holds up
  the church's banner in his noble hand:
  Fair Adria's estate will be brought to him
  by the daughter of Charles the Second, king of Sicily.

XL
  "Look at that friendly group gathered together.
  Many noble princes of great renown;
  Obyson, Albert known for his good deeds,
  Aldobrandino, Nicholas the crippled.
  But we can move on, as there's more to cover,
  Faenza defeated, along with their accomplishments and glory;
  With Adria (which is better controlled and more secure)
  That gives her title to the surrounding sea:

XLI
  "And that beautiful town, known for its roses,
  The roses that give it its name in Greek:
  It’s also surrounded by fishy marshes,
  And the two currents of the Po threaten it with dual breaches;
  Whose residents hate the lazy calm and
  Hope for stormy waves to crash against the shore.
  I pass by many towns and towers, countless in number,
  Argenta, Lugo, and a thousand more.

XLII
  "Look at Nicholas, who at a young age,
  The willing people will choose as their leader;
  He who will mock the civil unrest
  Of the rebellious Tideus and his crowd;
  Whose childish joy will be to engage
  In playful battles, sweating with spear and sword:
  And through the training such upbringing provides,
  He'll thrive like a flower in the battlefield.

XLIII
  "Through him, reckless schemes are brought down,
  And turned against the fool who devised them;
  So every war tactic is revealed,
  As all the clever traps fall flat.
  To the third Otho, this truth comes too late,
  Of Parma and the lovely Reggio's threat;
  Who will be stripped of his belongings and life,
  In sudden conflict and desperate strife.

XLIV
  "And still the beautiful kingdom will grow,
  And without harm its expanding limits will stretch;
  Nor will its happy citizens disturb the peace,
  Unless they are provoked to fight back,
  And so its prosperity and wellbeing will continue;
  And the Divine Planner be pleased
  To allow it to thrive (such is his divine love!)
  While the heavenly bodies move above.

XLV
  "Look! Lionel! Look! Borse, great and kind!
  First duke of your noble lineage, the joy of the realm;
  Who rules confidently and will find more victories
  In peace than warrior princes achieve in battle.
  Who will bind the hands of raging Fury behind
  Her back, and keep Mars hidden from view.
  His noble efforts aimed at blessing and supporting
  The people who obey his royal rule.

XLVI
  "Look! Hercules, who might blame his neighbor,
  With a foot half burned, limping and slow,
  That at Budrio, with his protective sword,
  He saved his troops from certain defeat;
  Not that, as a reward for his glorious effort,
  He should trouble and annoy him as an enemy;
  Chased into Barco. It’s tough to say,
  If he shines more in peace or in battle."

XLVII
  "Lucania, Puglia, and Calabria's shore,
  Shall resonate with the word of his might:
  Where he shall fight in battle, one-on-one,
  And earn the praise of the king of Catalonia.
  He will be ranked with the smartest leaders around,
  His deeds will earn him such a reputation;
  And he will win the estate like a brave knight,
  Which he rightly owned thirty years before.

XLVIII
  "The city is grateful and owes him a debt,
  The biggest subjects owe to their leader;
  Not just because he lifts her from a swamp to place
  Her foundations where Ceres' bounty thrives.
  Nor is it that he will expand her borders, or that
  He will protect her walls from enemies;
  Nor that he fixes the theater and dome,
  And enhances her streets and lovely squares;

XLIX
  "Not that he protects his lord well from
  The claws and fierce attacks of winged lions;
  Nor that, when the Gallic destruction spreads,
  And the invaders plunder all of Italy,
  His fortunate state is the only one untouched;
  Unbothered and untroubled by tolls or taxes.
  I’m not listing these blessings, and more,
  For which his grateful realm will praise Hercules;

L
  "From him shall come a pair
  Of brothers, bonded by love as much as blood;
  They will be everything Leda's children were;
  The righteous Alphonso, the good Hippolite.
  And just as each twin gave up his life
  To save his brother from the Stygian flood,
  So each of these would eagerly give his breath,
  And for his brave brother face eternal death.

LI
  "In these two princes' strong bond,
  Their loyal subjects feel more secure,
  Than if their noble town, for its defense,
  Were surrounded twice by Vulcan's steel works.
  And so Alphonso, in his wise leadership,
  Will bring justice, knowledge, and love,
  Astrea will come back from heaven,
  To this low earth, which changes with the seasons.

LII
  "His wisdom shines just as brightly
  As his father's, and his courage is no less;
  Since here, usurping Venice prepares for battle,
  And her full troops overwhelm his small numbers,
  There she (I’m not sure if it's more rightly called
  Mother or stepmother) brings new trouble;
  But, if she’s a mother, she’s hardly more gentle
  Than Progue or Medea was to her child.

LIII
  "This leader, whenever he sets out
  With his loyal team, whether it's night or day,
  By sea or by land, will disgrace the enemy,
  With a memorable defeat and chaos;
  And the late Romagna's sons will find out this too late.
  Led against old friends in a bloody battle,
  Who will wet the battlefield with their blood,
  By Santern, Po, and Zaniolus' rivers.

LIV
  "The Spaniard will soon learn, to his surprise,
  That within the same limits, where papal wealth prevails,
  Whoever takes Bastia from him and kills,
  In brutal anger, her unfortunate Castellain,
  The city captured; but he will pay a heavy price;
  His wrongdoing, the town saved, and the victor slain:
  Because in the reclaimed city, not a single servant
  Is left alive to report back to Rome.

LV
  "It's him, who with his advice and his spear,
  Will earn the honors of Romagna's land,
  And give the knights of France
  The victory over Julius, allied with Spain.
  Horses will charge through deep pools of blood
  In that brutal conflict, fighting through the fallen,
  Amid crowded fields, which hardly offer any beauty,
  Where Greeks, Italians, Franks, and Spaniards die.

LVI
  "Look! Who is dressed in priestly robes, wearing a crown
  With a purple hat, granted in the sacred dome!
  It’s him, the wise, the generous, the famous
  Hippolitus, the great cardinal of Rome;
  Whose deeds will echo in every land,
  Wherever the esteemed muse has a place:
  To his joyful time, by lenient heaven,
  As Maro was given to Augustus."

LVII
  "His actions elevate his lineage, just like the bright sun
  Shines upon the earth more than the silver moon or lesser stars;
  In worth, he far surpasses all the others.
  I see this captain, poorly positioned for battle,
  Head out feeling troubled, yet come back joyful:
  With only a few foot soldiers, and even fewer knights,
  He sails home, steering fifteen galleys."

LVIII
  "Two Sigismonds, the first and the second, you see;
  To these Alphonso's five good sons will follow;
  Their glories will spread across seas and land.
  The first will marry a girl from France's lineage.
  This is the second Hercules; and he,
  (So you can know their every name and deed),
  Hippolitus; who will shine with the light
  Of his wise uncle, illuminating all his family."

LIX
  "Francis the third comes next; the other two
  Alphonsos as well; — but once more I say,
  Your lineage, through all its branches, to follow,
  Fair virgin, would take too long and delay your stay;
  And Phoebus, many times, to human sight,
  Would extinguish and relight the sun's lamp.
  So, with your permission, it's time for the show to end,
  And I send away the spirits and fall silent."

LX
  So with the lady's permission, the book closed,
  Whose teachings the spirits were eager to follow.
  And they, where Merlin's ancient remains rested,
  From the first cave vanished away.
  Then Bradamant eagerly opened her lips,
  Since the divine enchantress agreed;
  "And who," she exclaimed, "are those with sorrowful faces,
  Alphonso and Hippolitus in between?

LXI
  "Sighing, those young men walked through the scene,
  Their faces marked by shame and deep regret,
  With downcast eyes and a slow, subdued pace:
  I noticed the brothers avoid them as they went by."
  Melissa heard the woman, filled with sorrow,
  And finally, with tears streaming down her face, exclaimed:
  "Ah! unfortunate young men, misled by false hopes,
  Where are you going under the wicked advice of bad people!"

LXII
  "O, noble descendant of Hercules,
  Don’t let their guilt outweigh your love;
  Unfortunately, the miserable couple share your blood,
  So much pity tips the balance!"
  And in a sad, gentler tone continued,
  "I won't push the painful story any further.
  Indulge in lovely dreams: And don’t think it’s inappropriate
  That I won’t bitterly pursue the sweetness."

LXIII
  "As soon as tomorrow's sun lights up the sky
  With its first rays, I’ll show you the way
  To where the wizard knight Rogero is hiding;
  And the walls shine bright with polished steel:
  As long as your journey goes through the deep woods,
  Until you reach the sea, I will give you
  New directions for your future path,
  So that you won’t need Melissa's help anymore."

LXIV
  All night the maid rests in the cave,
  And spends the best part of her time talking with Merlin;
  While the wise wizard uses his persuasive voice
  To praise Rogero's sincere love to her;
  Until the brave virgin emerges from the vault,
  Like the rising sun in the sky,
  On a long, dark path with shadows on either side,
  The mysterious woman remains her loyal guide.

LXV
  They find a secluded valley surrounded by heights,
  And mountains that are unreachable for people:
  And all day long they work without rest,
  Where steep cliffs glower and rivers rush.
  And (what might offer some distraction)
  Pleasant topics of conversation they explore,
  In talks that could help make it seem
  The rough path less gloomy and harsh.

LXVI
  Most of these helped to direct
  (Such was the wise woman's aim) the warrior lady;
  And taught how she could free
  Rogero from his chains, if her love was true.
  "If you were Mars himself or Pallas," cried
  The wise Melissa, "even with you came
  More than King Charles or Agramant could lead,
  You still wouldn’t be able to stand against the wizard foe.

LXVII
  "Besides being surrounded by steel,
  And his tower being unassailable and tall;
  Besides his fast horse being trained to turn,
  And prance and gallop in the sky,
  He carries a powerful shield that obscures,
  As soon as it's revealed, the dazzled eye;
  And so it overwhelms every sense, the light spilled,
  That whoever sees the blaze is left stunned."

LXVIII
"And just closing your eyes won't help you
You might think it would work against the wizard knight;
How would you know, when you’re both in close combat,
When he lands a hit or avoids the fight?
But to avoid the flash that blinds his enemies,
And make every magical trick useless,
Here’s a quick way that can't fail;
And there’s no other option in the world."

LXIX
  "King Agramant of Africa stole a ring.
  Taken from an Indian queen through cunning tricks,
  He gave it to one of his barons,
  Who is now just a few miles ahead of us;
  Brunello, that's his name. Whoever wears the gift will break
  All sorcery and magical schemes.
  In thefts and scams, Brunello is as skilled
  As the wise are in their charms and spells.

LXX
  "Brunello, he’s so skilled and so clever
  As I'm telling you now, has been sent by his king,
  To use his common sense to try,
  And with this ring, well-tested in similar situations,
  To take Rogero from the high castle;
  He has bragged about this, according to the wizard:
  And shared this promise with his lord,
  Who cares the most about having Rogero around.

LXXI
  "May his escape depend solely on you,
  Not on the king, the young knight,
  Prepare to hear how to free Rogero from his enemy
  And his magical prison.
  For three days you will walk along the shore,
  Next to the sea, where the waves will soon come;
  On the third day, you'll arrive at an inn,
  Where the one with the virtuous ring will come."

LXXII
"So you can recognize the man, he's under six feet tall. Check out this guy at the inn with black curly hair, he's a little guy! His beard is bushy around his cheeks and chin; he has a thick brow, swollen eyes, and a cloudy gaze. His nose is flat, and he has a pale complexion. To wrap it up, he dresses simply, like a messenger, he’s the con artist."

LXXIII
  "Your conversation with this man will revolve
  Around enchantments, spells, and mystical promises;
  And you will, in your discussion, seem to desire
  To test the wizard's power, which is true.
  But, my lady, don’t let him know
  About his good ring, which ruins all magic:
  He will suggest taking you as a guide
  To the tall castle, where you wish to go."

LXXIV
  "Stick close to him and keep an eye out for a sign,
  Now that we’re near the fortress of the old enchanter;
  Don’t let any false pity sway your mind
  To delay the completion of my plan.
  Give him his death, but don’t let him know
  What you’re thinking, and don’t give him any break; for before
  Your eyes, hidden by it, the coward will escape
  If he ever puts the ring to his lips."

LXXV
  As they talked like this, they reached the sea
  Where the Garonne River meets the tide near beautiful Bordeaux;
  Here, they could no longer be fellow travelers,
  And they shed a few natural tears before parting ways.
  Duke Aymon's daughter, who wouldn't rest until she
  Freed her knight, stayed until evening came:
  It was then that the lady rested at an inn,
  Where Sir Brunello was already a guest.

LXXVI
  The maid Brunello recognizes him right away
  (So his image was etched in her mind),
  And asks him where he's from and where he's going;
  And he answers and lies, as he's pressed.
  The lady, who is warned and knows her stuff,
  Pretends just as well as he does, and lies her best:
  And changes her gender and faith, and name and country,
  And her sharp eye often glances at his hand;

LXXVII
  He often looks at his restless hand, afraid
  That he might secretly grab something valuable;
  And he never lets the trickster get too close,
  Well aware of his situation: In this way
  The couple stays together when they hear
  A sudden noise: but what that noise means,
  I, sir, will explain later along with its reason;
  But first, I will pause my song appropriately.

ARGUMENT
  The old Atlantes meets a deadly end,
  Defeated by the ring, and young Rogero escapes,
  Who flies through the air until he’s just a dot,
  Riding the wizard's winged horse.
  Obeying the royal call of Charles,
  He who had followed Love's commanding lead,
  Rinaldo lands on British soil,
  And rescues Genevra, destined for torture and disgrace.

I
  Although a troubled mind can seem like a disguise,
  And mostly, that kind of attitude annoys;
  It’s obvious that in many situations,
  It ends up serving useful purposes,
  And protecting us from blame, danger, and frustration;
  Since we don’t always talk with our friends,
  In this, less clear than cloudy, human life,
  Filled with traps, and full of jealous conflict.

II
  If after a lot of effort we barely find
  A true friend, through various trials sought,
  To whom we can share our thoughts,
  Without holding back our wandering mind;
  What should young Rogero's kind lady
  Do with Brunello, who is not genuine, but full
  Of numerous betrayals, false and corrupt,
  As the good enchantress accurately depicted?

III
  She pretends along with that deceitful scout;
  (Alongside him, the father of all lies)
  Watches his thieving hands with fear and doubt;
  And follows every move with her eyes.
  When suddenly! A loud noise is heard outside!
  "O mighty mother! King of heaven!" she cries,
  "What is this I hear?" and quickly moves
  Towards the place from where the alarm rings,

IV
  And sees the crowd and all his family,
  Where one goes to the door, and one to the window,
  With their eyes lifted, staring at the sky,
  As if to catch a glimpse of a comet or an eclipse.
  And there the lady watches, with astonished eyes,
  What she had hardly believed from others' words,
  A winged horse, flying through the mist,
  Carrying a knight in armor on his back.

V
  His wings were broad and colorful;
  In the middle sat a knight in the saddle,
  Dressed in shiny armor that reflected light,
  His amazing journey aimed westward:
  There he disappeared among the mountains.
  And this was, as that group told his guest,
  (And the story is true) a sorcerer, who
  Would strike now closer, now farther away.

VI
  "He sometimes stands tall and reaches for the sky;
  Then appears to fall, just skimming the ground:
  And turns all beautiful women into a prize,
  Who, to their trouble, are found in these parts.
  So whether they are seen as lovely by themselves or others,
  The unfortunate ladies around,
  (And all that the thief takes)
  Are afraid of being caught by the sun."

VII
"A castle up in the Pyrenees
The sorcerer guards, made by magic."
(The host relates) "of steel, so beautiful and shiny,
Nothing in nature can compare to this amazing shell.
Many knights, trying to prove their strength,
Have gone, but none returned to share the story.
So I wonder, good sir, if the thief captures
Or kills anyone who falls in the struggle."

VIII
  The attentive maid takes care of everything,
  Happy in her heart, hopeful to achieve
  (What she can accomplish with the virtuous ring)
  The defeat of the enchanter and his domain.
  Then to the host — "Please bring me a guide,
  Someone who knows better than I where the thief hides.
  My heart is burning. (I can't help but go)
  To fight this wizard enemy."

IX
  "It won't be necessary," the short Moor exclaimed,
  "For I can be your guide myself;
  I know the way, along with other knowledge,
  So you can enjoy riding with me."
  He referred to the ring but held back further hints;
  Fearing he would have to face the truth.
  And she replied to him — "I'm happy to have your guidance."
  Implying that she hoped to gain his treasure.

X
What was useful to say, she said, and what
Might upset the Saracen, she kept to herself.
The host had gotten a horse that was perfect
For both the road and the field.
She bought the horse, and as dawn broke
With its rosy rays, she rode out with her spear and shield:
The maiden and her courier moved through a valley,
With Brunello now in front and now behind.

XI
  From forest to forest, from mountain to mountain,
  They climbed a peak that in the clear sky
  Reveals France and Spain, and both coasts.
  Just like from a summit in the Apennines the eye
  Can see the Tuscan and Slavic seas,
  There, from where we set off for Camaldoli.
  Then through a tough and painful path they went,
  Which led down into a humble valley.

XII
  A rock rises from the center of that deep valley;
  Bright steel walls surround its peak:
  And this reaches as high as that lofty peak,
  Leaving all the nearby cliffs behind.
  He cannot climb the height who has no wings,
  And it would be pointless to try with all that effort.
  "Look! There are his prisoners!" Sir Brunello shouts,
  "Ladies and gentlemen, the enchanter’s lair."

XIII
  The mountain was steep and smooth on all four sides,
  Looking like it was built perfectly by a skilled craftsman.
  There were no paths or stairs on any side,
  Which gave people a way to climb the hill.
  The castle looked like the perfect home for a creature,
  Equipped with feathers and quills.
  And here the young woman knows it’s time to kill
  The clever dwarf and take the ring away.

XIV
  But she thinks it's wrong to stain
  An unarmed man of such low status with his blood;
  Since without his death, she can get
  The expensive ring; so she holds back her hand.
  Brunello, caught off guard, with hardly a struggle,
  She grabbed and tightly bound with a strap:
  Then she tied the string to a tall fir;
  But first, she took the ring from his finger.

XV
  Neither tears nor groans nor sounds of sorrow
  Could sway the steadfast maiden; the dwarf had no power:
  She slowly descended the rugged hill,
  Until she reached the flat ground below the tower.
  Then she blew her horn, calling the wizard in the keep below:
  And when the sound ended, she shouted a threat,
  Challenging him to combat and defying him.

XVI
Not long after entering, the enchanter paused,
After he heard the voice and the sound of the bugle.
Facing the enemy, who looked like a man, dressed
In armor, with the horse ready to charge.
But his appearance reassured the young woman,
Who had little reason to be afraid as she saw him come
Without a mace, or a resting lance, or a deadly sword,
That could harm or penetrate the armor.

XVII
  He took his shield on his left arm,
  Completely covered in bright red silk;
  In his right hand, he held an open book,
  From which, as the magician read, strange wonders appeared:
  For often, to the eye, he shook his lance;
  And blinking eyes couldn’t hide the sight;
  With sword or mace, he seemed to attack the enemy:
  But he stayed back and hadn’t landed a hit.

XVIII
  Not some empty tale spun from magical myths,
  But the horse the wizard mounted was real;
  A filly was brought to him by a griffin;
  Called a hippogryph. With wings, beak, and crest,
  Shaped like his father, in his front feet too;
  But like his mother in every other way.
  Such creatures on the Riphaean hills, though rarely seen,
  Are born beyond the icy ocean's edge.

XIX
  Lured by magic from his faraway hideout,
  The wizard wondered how to train the young horse;
  And in a month, he taught it to carry
  Saddle and bit, and race to the finish;
  And perform on land or in the air,
  All the maneuvers, paths, and twists;
  He worked so hard. This was the only real part,
  While everything else was empty and unrealistic.

XX
  He mixed truth with lies,
  His tricks made red look like yellow and black look like white:
  But none of his empty magic could deceive
  The girl, whose virtuous ring gave her clear vision:
  Yet she was wasting her efforts on the wind;
  And rushing around extended the battle.
  So she guided her horse, striking at nothing,
  And used everything she had learned before.

XXI
  When she occasionally fought on her horse,
  She dismounts gracefully onto her feet:
  To strategize and implement her plans more freely,
  As taught by the enchantress, for her clever goals.
  The wizard, to showcase his final trick,
  Unaware of the defense, moves toward her.
  He raises the shield, ready to blind his enemy,
  And with the magical light, leaves them stunned.

XXII
The shield might have been displayed initially, nor did he
Need to keep the knights at a distance;
But he wanted to witness some masterful move,
Accomplished by lance or sword in a duel.
Just like a crafty cat plays with a captured mouse,
Until she grows angry or tired of her catch,
She snaps, and with a quick bite, the victim is no more.

XXIII
  In the game of cat and mouse, in battles fought before,
  I compare the magician and his enemies;
  But that comparison doesn’t hold anymore:
  For now, with the ring, the girl stands against him;
  Steady and alert, watching carefully,
  Fearing that the wizard might try to control her:
  And as she sees him reveal the amazing shield,
  She shuts her eyes and collapses on the ground.

XXIV
  Not that the shiny metal could cause offense,
  Like those others, when their cover was removed;
  But the young woman did this to bring down
  The empty enchanter from his amazing horse.
  And she was not at all thwarted in her goal;
  For as soon as she laid her head on the grassy field,
  The flying horse came crashing down to the ground.

XXV
  Once the shield was put on again, it was hung,
  By the magician, at his saddle bow.
  He lights and searches for her, who like a wolf among
  The bushes, hidden in the thicket, waits for the deer;
  Without hesitation, she sprang from her hiding spot,
  As he got closer, and quickly engaged the enemy.
  That unfortunate man, whose help came from the book
  He relied on for all his battles, had laid it on the ground:

XXVI
  And rushed to tie her up with a chain, which he,
  Had wrapped around himself for that reason;
  Because he thought she needed to be
  Controlled and restrained just like those captured before.
  She has already thrown him aside; I
  Can’t really blame him if he didn’t fight harder.
  The difference in strength was huge between that brave
  And powerful woman and the old, weak warrior!

XXVII
  Planning to behead the defeated enemy,
  She raises her victorious hand; but halfway down,
  When she sees his face, she halts the strike,
  As if rejecting a revenge so low.
  She realizes that her skill has brought down,
  An elderly man, with a sorrowful expression;
  Whose gray hair and wrinkles suggest to her,
  That he's around seventy years old, or maybe a little less.

XXVIII
  "Please kill me, for the love of God!" (the old sorcerer cried out in deep anguish,
  full of rage).
  But the victorious maiden wasn't any more
  reluctant to kill than he was determined to die.
  The gentle lady wanted to know who the old necromancer was
  and why
  he built that tower in such a wild place,
  committing such terrible acts against all humanity.

XXIX
  "Not me, out of malice, oh poor soul,"
  (The weeping necromancer responded,)
  "I didn’t build the beautiful castle on the rocky heights,
  Nor did I ever resort to theft;
  But only to save a noble knight
  From great danger and death, was I motivated by love;
  Who, as the heavens predict, will soon face death,
  As a Christian, betrayed."

XXX
"The sun doesn't see between the poles a child
So exceptional as him, and incredibly beautiful;
Who from his childhood, Rogero named,
(Atlantes I) was taught by my guidance.
Driven by the desire for fame and bad luck,
He follows Troyano's heir into France.
To me, he is considered more precious than a son,
I seek to rescue him from France and the dangers there."

XXXI
  "I only built this beautiful castle to be
  Rogero's dungeon, keeping him safe here;
  He was once defeated in battle by me,
  As I had hoped to capture you today,
  And ladies and knights, and others of high status,
  Have been brought to this tower to share his fate,
  So that with such companions in his prison,
  He might complain less about his loss of freedom.

XXXII
  "Unless they try to escape their prison,
  I give my guests every other joy.
  For anything found in the world,
  Search every corner, and I have it here;
  (Whatever a heart could desire or a tongue could say)
  Delicacies, fine clothes, games, fun, or cheerful songs.
  I’ve planted my field well, and I've harvested my crop.
  But your arrival makes my efforts useless.

XXXIII
  "Ah! Unless your heart is less beautiful than your lovely face,
  Don't ruin my devoted care;
  Take my steel shield, I give this to you,
  And take that horse, which flies so quickly through the air,
  And don’t interfere with my castle anymore; or free
  One or two captive friends, the rest leave alone —
  Or (I only ask for this) let them all go,
  As long as Rogero remains my servant.

XXXIV
  "Or if you want to take him from my view,
  Before the young man is sent to France,
  Please help free my miserable soul
  From its rotting shell, long decayed."
  "Talk all you want, I will set the knight
  Free," replied the warrior woman,
  "And I won't give up the shield and horse,
  Which you don't have the right to take — they're already mine.

XXXV
  "Neither were they yours to take or give,
  Would it really seem wise to make such a trade;
  You say to save him from what fate predicts,
  And to outsmart a bad influence from the stars.
  Rogero is trapped. You can’t know,
  Or if you do, you can’t change what’s meant to be:
  For, if you’re unaware of a danger so close to you,
  How can you possibly foresee someone else’s fate?

XXXVI
  "Don't look for your death from me; that request
  Is pointless; but if you're longing for death,
  Even if the whole world turns you down,
  A determined soul will find a way to die.
  But open your gates to let your guests leave
  Before you untie the knot of life."
  So spoke the disdainful woman with bitter mockery,
  Driving her captive still towards the rock.

XXXVII
  Around the conqueror with the chain he carried,
  Atlantes walked, the young woman following closely,
  Who didn’t trust the old magician,
  Even though he appeared calm in posture and gaze.
  Not long after the two began their journey,
  They spotted the gap at the mountain’s base;
  With paths that wound around the rough hill;
  And climbed until they reached the castle gate:

XXXVIII
  Statues at the entrance, carved with skill,
  Displayed characters and amazing signs, turned
  A noble stone, where, beneath the threshold,
  Pots, with eternal fire and secrets, burned.
  The sorcerer shatters them; and instantly the hill
  Becomes an unwelcoming rock.
  No wall or tower is visible anywhere,
  As if no castle had ever existed there.

XXXIX
  Then the wizard frees himself from the lady's traps,
  Like a thrush escaping the hunter's snare;
  With him, his castle vanishes,
  Leaving the captured group in the open air;
  From their lively quarters, ladies and knights,
  Now stranded in that barren, desolate place.
  And many felt distress at their newfound freedom,
  Which robbed them of such a joyful life.

XL
  There’s Gradasso, there’s Sacripant,
  There’s Prasildo, the noble knight,
  Who came from the Levant with Rinaldo;
  Iroldo, too, Prasildo's true friend.
  And then, finally, the charming Bradamant
  Spots Rogero, long wanted and beloved;
  Who, realizing it was her, rushed
  With joyful excitement to welcome the true damsel;

XLI
  As he valued her above all else—his heart,
  His life; from that day on, cherished when she stood
  Unmasked for him, and away from the battle;
  And so an arrow took her virgin blood.
  It would take a long time to explain who shot the cruel dart,
  And how the lovers roamed in the woods;
  Now guided by the sun, and now lost in the dark,
  Here for the first time since that encounter, reunited.

XLII
  Now that the young man sees her here, and knows
  That she alone saved him from the wizard's lair,
  He feels such joy inside, it overflows,
  Making him feel incredibly lucky and blessed.
  There, where the girl conquered, goes
  The group, descending from the mountain's peak;
  And they find the hippogryph, who carried the shield,
  But it's hidden in its case of crimson silk.

XLIII
  To grab him by the reins, the lady approached,
  And he stood still until she got close,
  Then spread his wings to the open air,
  And landed a short distance away, half up a mountain:
  And as she follows him with unproductive effort,
  He won’t try to fly either longer or shorter.
  It’s like the raven, on a sandy beach,
  Leading the dog on, then flying out of reach.

XLIV
  Gradasso, Sacripant, and Rogero, who
  With all the other knights below had gathered,
  Wherever they hoped he might return, chased
  The beast, blocking every path they could.
  He, leading them all as he flew,
  Often to rocky heights and damp bottoms,
  Dropped among the rocks of the wet valley,
  And stopped just a short distance from Rogero.

XLV
  This was the work of Atlantes the enchanter,
  Whose noble wishes were always aimed
  At freeing Rogero from his danger:
  That was his only thought, his only worry;
  To achieve this, he sent the winged horse,
  To carry him out of Europe by this trick.
  Rogero grabbed the reins, but it was useless;
  He refused to respond to the guiding reins.

XLVI
  Now the brave young man launches from his Frontino
  (Frontino was his gentle horse's name)
  Then jumps on him who rises high and stings
  And prods his proud heart with shining spurs.
  He runs a short distance; then he leaps up.
  And through the sky, he soars on a more graceful flight
  Than a hawk, which the falconer removes the hood from
  In time to reveal her target.

XLVII
  When the beautiful lady saw her Rogero,
  In such great danger, reaching such a high pitch,
  She stood for a long time in shock before she came back
  To her clear judgment and sound mind again:
  And what she had learned about Ganymede,
  Snatched up to heaven from his father’s kingdom,
  She feared might happen to the young man, who was born in the air,
  As gentle as young Ganymede and just as lovely.

XLVIII
  She looks at Rogero with unwavering eyes
  As long as her weak sight can still help her;
  And in her mind, she follows him through the skies,
  When her sight uselessly searches for the beloved youth.
  And still, with tears, groans, and sighs renewing,
  She won’t let her sorrow find peace or a break.
  After the knight disappeared from her sight,
  She turned her eyes to the noble Frontino.

XLIX
And in case the horse should fall victim
To the first traveler who passed through the valley,
He won’t leave him behind; instead, he decides
To take him away, trusting that he’ll see his lord again.
The griffin flies high, and Rogero can’t stop
The soaring horse; meanwhile, beneath his gaze,
Each peak and promontory blends together,
So he can’t tell the flat land from the hills.

L
  After the hippogryph has reached such heights,
  That he appears as just a point, he changes
  His direction toward where the sun, with fading light,
  Descends as it circles the heavenly crab;
  And shoots through the air, like a well-greased boat,
  That sails through the sea on a favorable wind.
  We leave him on his journey, who will succeed,
  And turn to Rinaldo in his time of need.

LI
  Day after day, the brave Rinaldo sails,
  Driven by the wind across the wide ocean;
  Now heading west, now towards the Bears;
  For day and night, the relentless storm blew.
  Finally, Scotland raises her dark coastline,
  And reveals the Caledonian woods;
  Where, through its shadowy groves of ancient oaks,
  The champion's strong strikes often echo.

LII
  Through here roam many famous knights,
  Known for their battle skills, from Britain;
  And crowds come from far and near,
  French, Norse, and German knights, a large group.
  Only the brave should dare come here,
  Where the pursuit of glory might lead to death.
  Here Arthur, Galahalt, and Gawain fought,
  And Sir Lancelot and Tristan fought well.

LIII
  And other heroes of the round table;
  (Of either table, whether old or new)
  Whose trophies still lie on the ground;
  Proof of their brave deeds, the true Rinaldo
  Immediately found his armor and Bayardo,
  And landed on the wooded coast: He told the crew
  To get to Berwick's nearby port as quickly as possible
  And wait for him there.

LIV
  Without a guide or any companions, he went
  Through that expansive forest; choosing now this path,
  Now that one, and then another, as it might offer
  The chance for an exciting quest or tough challenge:
  And before the first day's setting sun has set,
  The nobleman is welcomed in a gray abbey:
  Which spends a lot of resources hosting those who seek
  Its shelter, whether they be warrior knights or wandering ladies.

LV
The monks and the abbot welcomed him warmly to Mount Alban's home;
They offered him a hearty welcome after making sure
He had thoroughly regained his strength with good food,
If in that area, a wandering knight
Could often embark on exciting quests,
Where a person could test, through risky actions,
Whether blame or glory was the reward he deserved.

LVI
  They replied that in those woods he could be certain
  Many unusual adventures would await;
  But the actions taken there were, like the place, hidden,
  And mostly, not talked about.
  "Then look for a more worthy quest," they advised,
  "Your efforts won't go unnoticed.
  So that once the glorious deed is done,
  Fame may follow your struggles and your pain."

LVII
  "And if you want to test your bravery,
  Get ready for the most worthy mission to hear,
  That, whether in ancient times or today,
  Was taken on by a knight.
  Our king's daughter needs some help,
  Now badly outmatched, against a powerful rival:
  Lurcanio is the brave baron's name,
  Who would take away her life and reputation.

LVIII
  "He goes after her despite her father,
  Maybe more out of hatred than for justice;
  And claims that she brought in a lover
  Whom he saw at night.
  Because of this, the girl will face death by fire,
  That's our law, unless someone fights for her
  And, before the month is over,
  (Almost gone) proves the accuser wrong."

LIX
  "Our harsh Scottish law, cruel and feared,
  States that a woman, no matter her status,
  Who takes a man to her bed,
  Other than her husband, shall face death for it.
  There’s no hope for her to pay for her life,
  Unless a warrior comes to her defense;
  And as her true champion, with spear and shield,
  Prove her innocence in the arena."

LX
  "The king, deeply saddened for his beloved daughter Geneura,
  For that is her unfortunate name,
  Proclaims throughout the towns and cities that the knight
  Who saves her from death and disgrace,
  Will be united with the royal lady,
  With a dowry fit for a queen;
  So that the brave warrior who has fought
  In her defense must come from noble lineage.

LXI
  "But if no knight shows up within a month,
  Or if he comes and doesn’t win, the damsel dies.
  A quest like this would be more worthy of your skills
  Than wandering through these woods in a humble way.
  Also, the lasting trophy you’ll create,
  Through this deed, you’ll earn a glorious reward,
  The most beautiful flower among all the lovely ladies
  That exist between the pillars of Ind and Atlas.

LXII
"And you with wealth and status will be rewarded,
So that you can always live happily,
And the king's favor, if through your efforts he sees
His honor restored, which is now nearly lost.
Also, according to the code of chivalry,
You are obligated to avenge the maiden who has been wronged.
For she, whose life is threatened by such betrayal,
Is pure and innocent in everyone’s eyes."

LXIII
  Rinaldo thought for a moment, then replied,
  "And does a kind lady have to die by fire,
  Just because she fulfilled a lover's wish,
  And satisfied his desire in her embrace?
  Cursed be the law that tries her like this!
  Cursed be anyone who allows such a harsh fate!
  Let those who are cruel perish (that would be fair!).
  It's not her fault that she gives life to him who loves."

LXIV
  "Whether Geneura's story is true or false;
  If she blessed her lover, I don't care much:
  For this my praise the lady could deserve,
  If it weren't obvious that she acted kindly.
  All my thoughts are focused on helping her.
  Just give me someone to guide my steps, and lead
  Quickly to where the vile accuser is,
  I trust in God to free Geneura from her bonds.

LXV
  "I won’t claim she’s innocent in my mind,
  Out of fear of supporting a lie; but I
  Firmly believe there’s nothing in such an act
  That would justify the girl’s death;
  And it seems unfair, or else utterly mad,
  That laws have been created with such harshness;
  Which, being unjust, should be removed,
  And replaced with a new and better system.

LXVI
  "If desire is equal and the passion is strong,
  Moving both men and women, who eagerly seek
  That gentle goal of love (their aim is the same)
  Which to the clueless crowd seems like too much;
  Then why should a woman face scorn or blame,
  Even if she has more than one lover?
  While a man can sin with whomever he likes,
  And is met with praise, not just getting away with it?

LXVII
  "This harmful law still inflicts unfairness on women;
  It's a blatant injustice;
  And to show it's a serious harm,
  I rely on God, who has let this go on for too long."
  With one voice, the crowd agrees with good Rinaldo's decision,
  Believing their fathers are unjust, they support him,
  Their fathers who wrote such an outrageous law,
  And the king, who could fix this, but doesn’t."

LXVIII
  When the new day broke with streaks of red and white,
  In the east, lighting up the sky,
  Rinaldo mounted his bright armor and horse:
  A squire from the abbey assisted the nobleman.
  With him, the knight rode for many leagues and miles
  Through the gloomy, dark forest;
  As they headed towards the Scottish city,
  Where the poor maiden's case was to be heard.

LXIX
  Trying to find a shorter way as they traveled,
  They chose a broader path instead;
  When loud cries filled the dark forest around,
  Echoes of sorrow reached their ears.
  Towards a nearby valley, from where the sound came,
  This one spurred his steed, that one his horse;
  And they saw, between two fierce thugs there,
  A girl who looked beautiful from afar.

LXX
  But the girl was filled with sorrow and tears,
  Like any young woman seen in distress:
  Nearby, the cruel two readied the knife,
  Planning to soak the ground with her blood.
  She tried to stall her death for a bit,
  Hoping to stir pity with her sad appearance.
  When Rinaldo saw this from a distance,
  He rushed over with threats and furious shouts.

LXXI
  The thugs turn and run
  As soon as they see the distant help,
  And hide in a valley where they can't be seen:
  Rinaldo doesn't bother to chase them.
  He asks the knight from Mount Alban,
  To explain what brought this trouble upon her;
  And to save time, he tells his squire to bend down,
  And lift the girl onto his horse's back.

LXXII
  As he looked closer at the lady,
  He noticed her wisdom and beauty;
  Even though her face was pale with fear,
  And shadowed by the fear of death.
  The kind knight tried again to understand,
  Who had set such a terrible fate for her;
  She began to speak in a soft voice,
  What I’ll save for another stanza.

ARGUMENT
  Lurcanio, misled by a false rumor,
  Believed his brother was dead because of Geneura,
  Thinking that the untrustworthy duke, whom she rejected,
  Had been taken to her bed by the lady;
  And she accused her before the king and peers:
  But Ariodantes brought him to the session,
  And he confronted his brother in disguise. In time
  Rinaldo arrives to avenge the hidden betrayal.

I
  Among all the other animals that hunt
  On earth, or that come together in a friendly way,
  Whether they get along peacefully or fight moodily,
  No male harms his mate. Safely,
  The she-bear, paired with her mate, roams through the gray forest:
  The lioness lies beside the lion:
  Wolves, both male and female, live in loving harmony;
  Nor does the gentle cow fear the headstrong bull.

II
  What anger, what terrible plague
  Has spread such poison in the human heart,
  That even between husband and wife, filled with rage,
  Hurtful words and nasty insults are exchanged?
  And blows and violence disrupt their peace,
  And bitter tears still stain the loving bed;
  Not only soaked by the flood of tears,
  But often drenched by the senseless rage with blood?

III
  Not just a common sinner, he seems
  To defy nature and challenge God,
  Who raises his filthy hand against a woman,
  Or would harm a single hair on her head.
  But whoever uses a drug that burns the insides,
  Or who would prepare a knife or noose for her,
  No man seems to me like that, though he appears so,
  But rather some kind of evil spirit.

IV
  Such, and no one else were those thugs,
  Whom good Rinaldo scared away from the girl,
  Leading them to these hidden valleys,
  So no one would know of her being trapped so badly.
  I finished where the girl, beautiful in appearance,
  Got ready to share the story of her trouble,
  With the brave Paladin, who set her free;
  And to conclude, this is my story piece.

V
  "Of a worse deed than anything done before,"
  The kind lady started, "Sir knight,
  In Thebes, Mycenae, Argos, or on
  Other wilder land, get ready to listen;
  And I believe, if the sun in its cycles
  Comes closer to our Scottish shores
  Than to any other land, it’s because
  It wants to avoid a brutal, shocking race."

VI
  "Every age has shown that people have always chased
  With hair, in every place, their natural enemy;
  But causing harm to those who want to help us
  Comes from a deeply corrupt and wicked nature.
  Now that the truth is clearer,
  I will explain from beginning to end the situation,
  Why in my youth, against all fairness,
  Those scoundrels tried to wrong me in the worst way.

VII
  "It’s only right you should know that in the spring
  Of my life, I went to the palace;
  There for a long time I served the king’s daughter,
  And grew alongside her, well positioned at court.
  When cruel love, jealous of my fortune,
  Wanted me to be his follower and plaything;
  And made, above all Scottish lords and knights,
  Albany’s duke catch my eye.

VIII
  "And he seemed to care for me more than
  Anyone else; his love was incredibly intense.
  We hear and see, but we can't truly understand
  A person's faith, nor can we read their true intentions.
  Still believing and giving in to my love,
  I didn’t stop until I brought him to my bed;
  And in that bad moment, of all places,
  I was marked in Geneura's most secret chamber.

IX
  "Where she carefully kept, hidden away,
  Everything she valued most highly;
  There she often slept. A gallery
  Extended out into the fresh air.
  Here I often had my lover climb up to me,
  And (what he needed to climb) a hemp rope stair,
  When I called him to my eager arms,
  From the balcony I let him down."

X
  "I often fed my passion here
  As Geneura's absence made me brave;
  She changed her bed with the changing seasons,
  To avoid the sweltering heat or biting cold,
  And Albany, unseen and safely passed;
  For, facing a broken and ancient street,
  That part of the palace shone bright;
  And no one went that way by day or night.

XI
  "For many days and months, we kept
  Our romantic game a secret;
  Yet love kept growing, and I gained new strength,
  I felt the fire in my heart;
  And that he loved little and pretended deeply
  I didn't realize, so I was blinded to my shame:
  Though, in a thousand clear signs revealed,
  The untrustworthy knight exposed his deceit."

XII
  "After a few days, a suitor appeared for fair Geneura; I can't say if this started before he had feelings for me, or if it happened afterward when he tried to pursue me. But just imagine, alas! with how much power he controlled my heart, how completely he dominated me! Since he acknowledged this, he felt no shame in asking me to help him with his second love."

XIII
  "Unlike what he showed me, he said, really,
  That what he displayed for her wasn’t true;
  But by pretending love, he hoped to win,
  And properly marry the girl in question.
  He could definitely please her royal father,
  If she agreed to the favor he requested;
  For after our good king, in terms of riches and lineage,
  There was no one else in the whole realm of equal value.

XIV
  "I’ve convinced myself that if I play a role in
  him becoming the king's son-in-law,
  I need to know that he would be
  Promoted as high as any subject could hope for,
  The credit should go to me, and always he
  Would keep such a huge favor in mind;
  And he would value me more than his wife,
  And more than any other woman out there.

XV
  "I, who was completely focused on pleasing him,
  Who could never oppose his desires,
  Only felt happy on days
  When I could make his wishes come true:
  And seize every opportunity that arises
  To highlight his praise and achievements:
  And for my partner, I work hard,
  And strive to win Geneura's love."

XVI
  "With all my heart, to help him out,
  I did everything I could, God knows that's true;
  But with Geneura, it led to nothing,
  And I couldn't win her for my duke.
  Because another love had taken hold
  In her heart, every bit of her affection goes
  To a kind knight of noble character,
  Who came to our Scotland from far away:

XVII
  "And with a younger brother who came from Italy,
  Staying in our king's court:
  There he proved his skills with knightly arms,
  No one in Britain was more respected than he;
  Valued by the king, who (not with small rewards),
  Recognizing his nobility,
  Gave the young man, generously,
  Towns, lordships, castles, forests, and land.

XVIII
  "The monarch cherished him, but the daughter loved
  This lord even more, named Ariodantes.
  She could be filled with affection for his bravery;
  But knowing of his love brought her even more joy.
  Neither old Vesuvius, nor the hills of Sicilia,
  Nor the city of Troy ever glowed as brightly
  As the flames that the young lady felt in her heart,
  For Ariodantes burned with love for her."

XIX
  "The love she had for the lord, cherished
  And truly loved with all her heart,
  Was the reason I was still ignored;
  She would never offer a hopeful reply:
  And the more I pursued my lover's request,
  And tried to win his favor with skill,
  She would constantly criticize him, and even more
  Her hatred grew stronger than before.

XX
  "My wandering lover often I stir up
  Such a pointless and futile effort to leave;
  Nor do I foolishly hope to change her strong mind,
  So deeply affected by another's passion;
  And show the Scottish knight,
  That Ariodantes has ignited such a fire
  In the young woman's heart, that even a flood
  Wouldn't cool her boiling emotions at all.

XXI
  "This Polinesso had heard many times
  From me (for that is the name of the Scottish baron)
  Well confirmed by both sight and word,
  How poorly his love was returned by the lady.
  To see someone else favored over him
  Not only extinguished the proud warrior's passion,
  But the deep love he felt in his heart
  Turned into spiteful rage and hatred."

XXII
  "Between Geneura and her loyal knight,
  He plotted to create such discord and bad feelings,
  And caused such deep resentment between them.
  No time would heal the rift he had created;
  Bringing such shame upon that bright lady,
  The stain would stick to her, whether she was alive or dead:
  And, determined to ruin her on this tragic path,
  He consulted only with himself, not with me or anyone else.

XXIII
  " `Dalinda, my love,' he said, with his plan in mind,
  (Dalinda is my name) `you need to understand,
  That even if the trunk is chopped down to the ground,
  Many new shoots will still grow around.
  So my unfortunate passion comes back to life,
  Still holding on, sprouting despite the strife;
  Even when cut down by a string of failures,
  I won't stop until I achieve my desires.

XXIV
  " `Neither the hope of pleasure has done so much,
  As the thought of achieving my goal would bring me joy;
  And, if not in action, at least in my mind
  To succeed would provide a bit of comfort.
  So every time you visit my bower,
  When Geneura is asleep in her bed, take
  What she leaves behind, and be sure
  To adorn yourself in all her everyday clothes.

XXV
  " `Style your hair and dress yourself like her
  As she is dressed; and, as best you can, pay close attention,
  Copy her; then, with the rope ladder in hand, you’ll hurry to the gallery:
  I’ll climb it imagining you are her, wearing the same outfit:
  And I hope that by putting on this disguise,
  I’ll quickly cool my passionate desire.'

XXVI
  "So the knight said; and I, who was upset,
  And completely beside myself, didn't realize
  That the plan he asked for help with
  Was clearly just a terrible trap;
  And in Geneura's clothes, as instructed,
  I lowered the corded stair (as I often did).
  I didn't see the traitor's awful trick
  Until the deadly harm was done.

XXVII
  "The duke, during this time, spoke to Ariodantes,
  Using these words, or something similar;
  (For the knights were united in friendship,
  Until, as rivals, they chased this shared goal)
  "I wonder, since you are one of my equals,
  The one I should have honored and treated well,
  And held in high esteem, and still care for,
  Why you would repay my kindness so poorly.

XXVIII
  " `I know you understand and are aware
  Of mine and Geneura's love, and our long-standing agreement;
  And how, in a rightful marriage, I
  Am about to claim her from my lord:
  So why interfere with my case, and why give
  Your heart to someone who offers nothing in return?
  By Heaven, I would honor your claim and position,
  If your situation were mine and mine were yours.'

XXIX
  " `And I,' shouted Ariodantes, `am more amazed'
  (In response to the Scottish lord) `by you,
  Since I fell for her way before
  That kind lady ever crossed your sight;
  And you can be sure that we’ve always loved; —
  There has never been a love more genuine —
  You can be certain she would only want to be with me;
  And you can also be sure she doesn’t love you.'

XXX
  " `Why don’t I get the same respect from you,
  That you pretend to have for me due to our past friendship?
  I would handle you much better,
  If your chances of achieving your goal were better?
  Just like you, I also expect to marry her;
  And if your fortune is greater than mine here,
  As someone favored by the king, just like you,
  I am still fortunate in winning his daughter's love.'

XXXI
  " `What a strange mistake,' the duke replied to him, `
  your silly passion is the cause! You think you're loved; I, on my end,
  believe the same; let’s test this by the results.
  You’re open about your actions, and I’ll reveal the secrets of my pursuit:
  And let the one who feels the least favored back down,
  find another option, and leave the game.`

XXXII
  " `I'm ready, if that's what you want, to swear
  Not to reveal anything I'm told;
  And I want you to promise me that, on your part,
  You will also keep what I share a secret.'
  Joining in the agreement, the two rivals
  Made their solemn vows upon the Bible:
  And after they made the mutual promise,
  Ariodantes was the first to tell his story.

XXXIII
  "Then clearly, and with straightforward facts stated,
  How Geneura stood by his suit, he asserts;
  And how, bound by writing and by word,
  She promised she wouldn’t be anyone else's wife.
  How, if the Scottish king hesitated,
  She swore to maintain her purity forever;
  And a different marital bond she avoided,
  Choosing to spend her days in lonely solitude.

XXXIV
  "Then he added how he hoped that through his worth, which he
  Had more than once claimed, with his knightly sword,
  And still could prove, for the success
  And honor of the king and his kingdom,
  He would please that monarch so well that he would
  Consider him worthy of the hand
  Of his beautiful daughter, married with his blessing:
  Since he would fulfill her wishes in this."

XXXV
  "Then here I stand — `I claim this ground,
  I fear no intruder coming close;
  I don't seek anything more; my hopes are set here;
  And for Geneura's love, I wouldn't
  Look for a clearer sign than what's given,
  By God's will, in the bond of marriage;
  Any other pursuit would be useless, I'm sure,
  For she is so exceptional, and truly pure.'