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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.

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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,
The eternal veil of heaven asunder torn,

And its appointed angel come at last

To bid the grave yield up her dead new-born:
So terrible was that portentous sound

Borne by the mountain echos wide around—

Wide, wide around the mountain echos bore
That soul-dissolving clangor; cold dismay

A moment all the Pagan host came o'er,
And check'd the advancing battle's proud array;
A moment only,—and with answering roar,
Loud as the ocean surges, when the

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,
Firm and unbroken o'er the rugged ground,
Nor heed the Moorish darts, that fall like rain
On their broad shields and heads with iron bound:
Foremost to climb, and first the ascent to gain,
(As England's sons in war are ever found,)
The English knight his banner plants on high:
"Forward! Behold the Pagan dastards fly!"

Awhile on every side, as panic-driven,

The outnumbering hosts recoil; for at a blow
Astolpho's lance had shield and hauberk riven (2),
And stretch'd their first and stoutest champion low:
But soon, as clouds, by the rude blasts of heaven
Dispell'd, unite and burst in floods below,
Back to the charge the astonisht squadrons pour
With hotter fury, and the fight restore.

Here on the right unhappy Olivier,

Desperate of life, deals shame and slaughter round;
Gualtier and gentle Berlinghier are here,

And keep unmoved the hard-won vantage-ground:
But in the front of danger, death, and fear,
The English lance is ever foremost found,
And ever there the English crest elate
Moves the terrific harbinger of fate..

Nor less upon the left, in arms allied,
Each gallant Anjolin his prowess tries,
And Baldwin, with a youthful soldier's pride,
And eye firm fixt on Fame's immortal prize,
Courts Danger, like a new and blushing bride,
And wonders why his eager suit she flies;
Ah brave unhappy boy! his guileless breast (3)
Knew not the charm of Poictiers' treacherous vest!

But who shall speak the terrors of that hour,
When, as o'er Libya's hot and thirsty land
Moves, bursts, and falls, the self-erected tower,
And whelms whole armies in a waste of sand,
So dark and dreadful, o'er the Moorish power,
Hung great Orlando's desolating hand,

And, with unerring aim, where'er it fell,
Laid bare some new and fearful path to hell!

"From morn till noon, from noon till dewy night," With unabated rage the contest glow'd;

And not a Christian in that bloody fight
Gave up to Heaven the sacrifice he ow'd,
But first, in glorious witness of the right,
From Pagan breasts a plenteous current flow'd,
And ghastly heaps on heaps of slaughter'd foes
A monument of Heaven's stern justice rose.

The God of battles, that tremendous day,
Look'd from his throne of vengeance o'er the field,
And scatter'd wild confusion and dismay

From the red terrors of his blazing shield:

'Tis said,—(the crowd believes what zealots say,)-
The archangel's self, to human eyes reveal'd,
In radiant armour, on a snow white horse,
Thrice rallied to the charge the Christian force.

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