The whole adventure may be perused, with great profit, in canto ii. st. 18 et seq. In a subsequent part of the poem we find our hero repeating the exercise of the same solemn function in favour of a Pagan chief in articulo mortis. E la bandiera innanzi era d'Almonte, La qual fu acquistata in Aspramonte. St. 42. The battle of Aspramonte (Aspremont) was another of the fabulous exploits of Charlemagne, in which by the assistance of the brothers Milo and Aymon, of Gualtier de Montleon and Salamon of Bretagne, he overcame an immense host of Pagans conducted by Garnier King of Carthage, Agoland, Troyano (the father of Boyardo's Agramant), and the Almonte here mentioned. I do not know the romantic origin of this incident, which is barely alluded to by Pulci, but is the entire subject of an Italian poem entitled "Aspramonte," which made its appearance shortly after the Orlando Furioso. See Ginguené, tom. iv. p. 550. Orlando in Roncesvalles. Canto the Third. WHOE'ER had heard the brazen trumpet's blast(') In Roncesvalles on that fatal morn, Might look to see the world's vain pageant past, And its appointed angel come at last To bid the grave yield up her dead new-born: Borne by the mountain echos wide around— Wide, wide around the mountain echos bore A moment all the Pagan host came o'er, spray Is tempest-driven against impending skies, Through all the lengthening line the shouts of slaughter rise Strange shouts, and yells, and dissonant turbulence Of nations, brought from earth's remotest bound, Mixt with the din of martial instruments, The clash of arms, the neigh of steeds, the sound (Like shock of wildly jarring elements) Of squadrons trampling o'er the hollow ground: The Christians felt the gathering storm draw near, But not a hero's cheek was blanch'd with fear. Up the steep heights the Christian warriors strain, Awhile on every side, as panic-driven, The outnumbering hosts recoil; for at a blow Here on the right unhappy Olivier, Desperate of life, deals shame and slaughter round; And keep unmoved the hard-won vantage-ground: Nor less upon the left, in arms allied, But who shall speak the terrors of that hour, And, with unerring aim, where'er it fell, "From morn till noon, from noon till dewy night," With unabated rage the contest glow'd; And not a Christian in that bloody fight The God of battles, that tremendous day, From the red terrors of his blazing shield: 'Tis said,—(the crowd believes what zealots say,)- |