<< And even at Aspramont thou didst begin
To let him know he was a gallant knight,
And by the fount did much the day to win;
But I know who that day had won the fight
If it had not for good Gherardo been;
The victory was Almonte's else;
his sight
He kept upon the standard, and the laurels
In fact and fairness are his earning, Charles.
XIV.

<< If thou rememberest being in Gascony,
When there advanced the nations out of Spain,
The christian cause had suffer'd shamefully,

Had not his valour driven them back again.
Best speak the truth when there's a reason why:
Know then, oh emperor! that all complain:
As for myself, I shall repass the mounts
O'er which I cross'd with two and sixty counts.
XV.

<< T is fit thy grandeur should dispense relief,
So that each here may have his proper part,
For the whole court is more or less in grief:
Perhaps thou deem'st this lad a Mars in heart?
Orlando one day heard this speech in brief,
As by himself it chanced he sate apart:
Displeased he was with Gan because he said it,
But much more still that Charles should give him credit

XVI.

And with the sword he would have murder'd Gan,
But Oliver thrust in between the pair,
And from his hand extracted Durlindan,
And thus at length they separated were.
Orlando, angry too with Carloman,

Wanted but little to have slain him there;
Then forth alone from Paris went the chief,
And burst and madden'd with disdain and grief.
XVII.

From Ermellina, consort of the Dane,

He took Cortana, and then took Rondell,
And on towards Brara prick'd him o'er the plain;
And when she saw him coming, Aldabelle
Stretch'd forth her arms to clasp her lord again:
Orlando, in whose brain all was not well,
As « Welcome my Orlando home,» she said,
Raised up his sword to smite her on the head.
XVIII.

Like him a fury counsels; his revenge

On Gan in that rash act he seem'd to take,
Which Aldabella thought extremely strange,
But soon Orlando found himself awake;
And his spouse took his bridle on this change,
And he dismounted from his horse, and spake
Of every thing which pass'd without demur,
And then reposed himself some days with her.
XIX.

Then full of wrath departed from the place,
And far as Pagan countries roam'd astray,
And while he rode, yet still at every pace

The traitor Gan remember'd by the way;
And wandering on in error a long space,
An abbey which in a lone desert lay,

Midst glens obscure, and distant lands he found,
Which form'd the Christian's and the Pagan's bound.

XX.

The abbot was call'd Clermont, and by blood
Descended from Angrante: under cover

Of a great mountain's brow the abbey stood,
But certain savage giants look'd him over!
One Passament was foremost of the brood,

And Alabaster and Morgante hover
Second and third, with certain slings, and throw
In daily jeopardy the place below.

XXI.

The monks could pass the convent gate no more, Nor leave their cells for water or for wood. Orlando knock'd, but none would оре, before Unto the prior it at length seem'd good; Enter'd, he said that he was taught to adore

Him who was born of Mary's holiest blood, And was baptized a christian; and then show'd How to the abbey he had found his road.

XXII.

Said the abbot, « You are welcome; what is mine We give you freely, since that you believe With us in Mary Mother's son divine;

And that you may not, cavalier, conceive
The cause of our delay to let you in

To be rusticity, you shall receive
The reason why our gate was barr'd to you:
Thus those who in suspicion live must do.

XXIII.

« When hither to inhabit first we came These mountains, albeit that they are obscure, As you perceive, yet withour fear or blame They seem'd to promise an asylum sure: From savage brutes alone, too fierce to tame, 'Twas fit our quiet dwelling to secure; But now,

if here we'd stay, we needs must guard Against domestic beasts with watch and ward. XXIV.

«These make us stand, in fact, upon the watch,
For late there have appear'd three giants rough;
What nation or what kingdom bore the batch
I know not, but they are all of savage stuff;
When force and malice with some genius match,

You know, they can do all-we are not enough: .
And these so much our orisons derange,

I know not what to do till matters change.
XXV.

<< Our ancient fathers living the desert in,
For just and holy works were duly fed;
Think not they lived on locusts sole, 't is certain

That manna was rain'd down from heaven instead;

But here 't is fit we keep on the alert in

Our bounds, or taste the stones shower'd down for bread,

From off yon mountain daily raining faster,
And flung by Passamont and Alabaster.

XXI.

« But had it come up here upon its shoulders, There would have been a different tale to tell: The fellow-feeling in the saints beholders

Seems to have acted on them like a spell, And so this very foolish head Heaven solders Back on its trunk: it may be very well, And seems the custom here to overthrow Whatever has been wisely done below.>> XXII.

The angel answer'd, « Peter! do not pout;

The king who comes has head aud all entire, And never knew much what it was about

He did as doth the puppet-by its wire, And will be judged like all the rest, no doubt: My business and your own is not to inquire Into such matters, but to mind our cueWhich is to act as we are bid to do.»>

XXIII.

While thus they spake, the angelic caravan,
Arriving like a rush of mighty wind,
Cleaving the fields of space, as doth the swan
Some silver stream (say Ganges, Nile, or Inde,

Or Thames, or Tweed), and midst them an old man
With an old soul, and both extremely blind,
Ilalted before the gate, and in his shroud
Seated their fellow-traveller on a cloud.

XXIV.

But bringing up the rear of this bright host,
A spirit of a different aspect waved
His wings, like thunder-clouds above some coast
Whose barren beach with frequent wrecks is paved;
His brow was like the deep when tempest-tost;
Fierce and unfathomable thoughts engraved
Eternal wrath on his immortal face,
And where he gazed a gloom pervaded space.
XXV.

As he drew near, he gazed upon the gate,
Ne'er to be enter'd more by him or sin,
With such a glance of supernatural hate,
As made Saint Peter wish himself within;
He potter'd with his keys at a great rate,
And sweated through his apostolic skin:
Of course his perspiration was but ichor,
Or some such other spiritual liquor.

XXVI.

The very cherubs huddled altogether,

Like birds when soars the falcon; and they felt A tingling to the tip of every feather,

And form'd a circle, like Orion's belt,

Around their poor old charge, who scarce knew whither

His guards had led him, though they gently dealt
With royal manes (for, by many stories,
And true, we learn the angels all are Tories).

XXVII.

As things were in this posture, the gate flew
Asunder, and the flashing of its hinges

Flung over space an universal hue

Of many-colour'd flame, until its tinges Reach'd even our speck of earth, and made a new Aurora borealis spread its fringes

O'er the North Pole; the same seen, when ice-bound, By Captain Parry's crews, in « Melville's Sound.>>

XXVIII.

And from the gate thrown open issued beaming
A beautiful and mighty thing of light,
Radiant with glory, like a banner streaming
Victorious from some world-o'erthrowing fight:
My poor comparisons must needs be teeming
With earthly likenesses, for here the night
Of clay obscures our best conceptions, saving
Johanna Southcote, or Bob Southey raving.

XXIX.

'T was the archangel Michael: all men know
The make of angels and archangels, since
There's scarce a scribbler has not one to show,
From the fiends' leader to the angels prince.
There also are some altar-pieces, though

I really can't say that they much evince
One's inner notions of immortal spirits;
But let the connoisseurs explain their merits.
XXX.

Michael flew forth in glory and in good;

A goodly work of him from whom all glory And good arise; the portal pass'd-he stood; Before him the young cherubs and saint hoary, (I say young, begging to be understood

By looks, not years; and should be very sorry, To state, they were not older than Saint Peter, But merely that they seem'd a little sweeter.)

XXXI.

The cherubs and the saints bow'd down before
That arch-angelic hierarch, the first

Of essences angelical, who wore

The aspect of a god; but this ne'er nursed
Pride in his heavenly bosom, in whose core
No thought, save for his Maker's service, durst
Intrude, however glorified and high;
Ile knew him but the viceroy of the sky.
XXXII.

He and the sombre silent spirit met

They knew each other both for good and ill; Such was their power, that neither could forget His former friend and future foe, but still There was a high, immortal, proud regret

In either's eye, as if 't were less their will
Than destiny to make the eternal years
Their date of war, and their «< Champ Clos» the spheres.
XXXIII.

But here they were in neutral space: we know
From Job, that Sathan hath the power to pay
A heavenly visit thrice a year or so;

And that « the sons of God,» like those of clay,
Must keep him company; and we might show,
From the same book, in how polite a way
The dialogue is held between the powers
Of good and evil-but 't would take up hours.
· XXXIV.

And this is not a theologic tract,

To prove with Hebrew and with Arabic
If Job be allegory or a fact,

But a true narrative; and thus I pick
From out the whole but such and such an act
As sets aside the slightest thought of trick.
T is every tittle true, beyond suspicion,
And accurate as any other vision.