MARSILIUS, the Moorish King of Saragossa, (whose empire is represented to have extended over the whole or the greater part of Spain, and as entitling him to the first rank in the confederation of "Paynim" powers against the "Roman Empire" of Charlemagne,) having sustained a signal defeat under the walls of Paris, has recourse to negotiation, pending which, Ganellon (or Gano) of Maganza, Count of Poictiers, is sent, on the part of the Christian Emperor, to demand from him the cession of the "Marca Hispanica," the country extending from the Pyrenees to the Ebro.

Ganellon, actuated by his hatred to Orlando (or Roland) Count of Clermont and Lord of Anglante, the nephew of Charlemagne, and the other Paladins of France, enters into a conspiracy with Marsilius, of which the principal object is the destruction of these celebrated champions of the Christian cause. Under professions of peace and amity, Charlemagne is invited to send his nephew and the chief warriors of his court to the Pass of Roncesvalles, there to receive

from Marsilius the promised cession, and at the same time to repair in person to Fontarabia, to await the accomplishment of the transaction.

The elder Counsellors of his Court, suspecting the treason of the ambassador, dissuade their sovereign from accepting these terms; and Malagigi (or Maugis) the cousin of Rinaldo, and Governor during the absence of that renowned Paladin of his Castle of Montalban, predicts, from his well-known skill in magic, the disasters to ensue. But the Roman Emperor," swayed by his blind partiality for Ganellon, accepts the proposal in spite of all their remonstrances; and Orlando is forbidden, by his sense of loyalty and honour, to hesitate in yielding obedience to his sovereign's mandate.

Under these circumstances, the Poem opens with the departure of Orlando for Roncesvalles from his Castle of Clermont en Viennois.

Orlando in Roncesvalles.

Canto the First.

THE banner waved on Clermont's highest tower;
Forth rode the Count in glittering armour clad :
But Aldabelle bewail'd the luckless hour,
Alone, amidst the pomp of triumph, sad:
From her fair eyes fast fell the pearly shower,-
Ah tears ill timed, when all things else were glad!
The soul born pride of female courage slept;
Anglante's spouse, the Rose of Clermont, wept.

B

And wherefore falls the pearly shower so fast?
And wherefore heaves with frequent sighs her breast?
Not so, when War had blown his deadliest blast,
The mailed hero to her heart she prest;
Then fearless waited, till the storm o'erpast
Should give him back to her who loved him best,
Safe in the prowess of her conquering lord,
And the resistless magic of his sword.

"Orlando, stay! last night the sheeted fire
Blazed from yon western heaven, in crimson dyed—
Orlando, stay! with screeches loud and dire
The deadly raven at my casement cried;
And, when I woke, the spectre of thy sire,
Of Milo, Clermont's lord, was at my side (').
Orlando, stay! I'm sick and faint at heart,
Nor can my soul endure the thought,—to part!

"Thou too, my Oliver, my brother, stay (2)!
Thou gentlest knight that ever bore a shield!
'Tis come, alas! that heaven appointed day—
Orlando breathless lies on Honour's field.
O let thine Aldabelle, thy sister, pray!
To female tears 'tis no disgrace to yield:
Think on the duties of thy knightly vow,
Behold the widow and the orphan bow!

"Can ye remember Gano's treacherous tongue (3), His smooth deceits, his unextinguisht hate? Can ye forget how Malagigi sung

The dark presages of approaching fate?

The warning words, on Namo's lips that hung (4),
Big with the ruin of the Christian state?
What Salamon's sagacious mind foretold?
What Britain's valiant King, the wise and old (5)?

"In Poictiers' race was friendship ever known?
Then trust the tale by base Maganza wrought.
Was ever truth on Saragossa's throne (°) ?
Then throw aside the guard that prudence taught.
But, oh Orlando! 'tis to thee alone,

The generous soul, and unsuspecting thought:
Against thee, in the unequal fight, engage
Unfathom'd Fraud, insatiable Rage."

Vain are thy prayers and sighs, fair Aldabelle,
Sweet lady, vain ;-thy warning who can hear?
Bright hope and joy thy brother's bosom swell,
And plumed pride, the deadly foe to fear.
But Clermont's lord pronounced one faint farewel,
From his dark brow he dash'd one manly tear,
Omen of ill!-then cried, " On, soldiers, on!—
Long is our journey, and the day far gone."