LXXV.

He did; and stow'd him in some nook away, And to the abbey they return'd with speed. Orlando said, 'Why longer do we stay?

Morgante, here is nought to do indeed.' The abbot by the hand he took one day,

And said, with great respect, he had agreed To leave his reverence; but for this decision He wish'd to have his pardon and permission. LXXVI.

The honours they continued to receive

Perhaps exceeded what his merits claim'd:
He said, 'I mean, and quickly, to retrieve
The lost days of time past, which may be
blamed ;

Some days ago I should have ask'd your leave,
Kind father, but I really was ashamed,
And know not how to show my sentiment,
So much I see you with our stay content.

LXXVII.

'But in my heart I bear through every clime
The abbot, abbey, and this solitude-
So much I love you in so short a time;

For me, from heaven reward you with all good The God so true, the eternal Lord sublime!

Whose kingdom at the last hath open stood. Meantime we stand expectant of your blessing, And recommend us to your prayers with pressing.

LXXVIII.

Now when the abbot Count Orlando heard,
His heart grew soft with inner tenderness,
Such fervour in his bosom bred each word;
And, Cavalier,' he said, 'if I have less
Courteous and kind to your great worth appear'd,
Than fits me for such gentle blood to express,
I know I have done too little in this case;
But blame our ignorance, and this poor place.

LXXIX.

'We can indeed but honour you with masses, And sermons, thanksgivings, and pater-nosters, Hot suppers, dinners (fitting other places

In verity much rather than the cloisters); But such a love for you my heart embraces, For thousand virtues which your bosom fosters, That wheresoe'er you go I too shall be, And, on the other part, you rest with me.

LXXX.

'This may involve a seeming contradiction; But you I know are sage, and feel, and taste, And understand my speech, with full conviction. For your just pious deeds may you be graced With the Lord's great reward and benediction, By whom you were directed to this waste: To his high mercy is our freedom due,

For which we render thanks to him and you.

LXXXI.

'You saved at once our life and soul: such fear The giants caused us, that the way was lost By which we could pursue a fit career

In search of Jesus and the saintly host; And your departure breeds such sorrow here, That comfortless we all are to our cost; But months and years you would not stay in sloth, Nor are you form'd to wear our sober cloth;

LXXXII.

'But to bear arms, and wield the lance; indeed, With these as much is done as with this cow.. In proof of which the Scriptures you may read. This giant up to heaven may bear his soul By your compassion: now in peace proceed.

Your state and name I seek not to unrol; But, if I'm ask'd, this answer shall be given, That here an angel was sent down from heave

LXXXIII.

'If you want armour or aught else, go in, Look o'er the wardrobe, and take what you choose,

And cover with it o'er this giant's skin.'

Orlando answer'd, 'If there should lie louse Some armour, ere our journey we begin,

Which might be turn'd to my companion's use, The gift would be acceptable to me. The abbot said to him, 'Come in and see."

LXXXIV.

And in a certain closet, where the wall

Was cover'd with old armour like a crust, The abbot said to them, I give you all.'

Morgante rummaged piecemeal from the d The whole, which, save one cuirass, was:00 s

And that too had the mail inlaid with rust They wonder'd how it fitted him exactly, Which ne'er has suited others so compactly.

LXXXV.

'Twas an immeasurable giant's, who By the great Milo of Agrante fell Before the abbey many years ago.

The story on the wall was figured well; In the last moment of the abbey's foe,

Who long had waged a war implacable: Precisely as the war occurr'd they drew him, And there was Milo as he overthrew him.

LXXXVI.

Seeing this history, Count Orlando said
In his heart, 'Oh God, who in the sky
Know'st all things! how was Milo hither le!?
Who caused the giant in this place to die?
And certain letters, weeping, then he read,

So that he could not keep his visage dry,-
As I will tell in the ensuing story.
From evil keep you the high King of glory!

'THE land where I was born sits by the seas, †
Upon that shore to which the Po descends,
With all his followers, in search of peace.
Love, which the gentle heart soon apprehends,
Seized him for the fair person which was ta'en
From me, and me even yet the mode offends.
Love, who to none beloved to love again
Remits, seized me with wish to please, so
strong,

That, as thou seest, yet, yet it doth remain. Love to one death conducted us along,

But Cainà waits for him our life who ended:' These were the accents utter'd by her tongue.. Since I first listen'd to these souls offended, I bow'd my visage, and so kept it till'What think'st thou,' said the bard; when I unbended,

And recommenced: Alas! unto such ill How many sweet thoughts, what strong ecstasies,

Led these their evil fortune to fulfil!'
And then I turn'd unto their side my eyes,
And said, 'Francesca, thy sad destinies
Have made me sorrow till the tears arise.
But tell me, in the season of sweet sighs,
By what and how thy love to passion rose,
So as his dim desires to recognize?'
Then she to me: 'The greatest of all woes
Is to remind us of our happy days
In misery, and that thy teacher knows.
But if to learn our passion's first root preys
Upon thy spirit with such sympathy,

I will do even as he who weeps and says.
We read one day for pastime, seated nigh,
Of Lancilot, how love enchain'd him too.
We were alone, quite unsuspiciously.
But oft our eyes met, and our cheeks in hue
All o'er discolour'd by that reading were;
But one point only wholly us o'erthrew ;
When we read the long-sigh'd-for smile of her,
To be thus kiss'd by such devoted lover,

He who from me can be divided ne'er Kiss'd my mouth, trembling in the act all over : Accursed was the book and he who wrote ! That day no further leaf we did uncover.' While thus one spirit told us of their lot, The other wept, so that with pity's thralls I swoon'd, as if by death I had been smote, And fell down even as a dead body falls.

ACT I.

SCENE I.-MANFRED alone.-Scene, a Gothic Gallery.-Time, Midnight.

but

Man. The lamp must be replenish'd, even then It will not burn so long as I must watch: My slumbers-if I slumber-are not sleep, But a continuance of enduring thought, Which then I can resist not in my heart There is a vigil, and these eyes but close To look within; and yet I live, and bear The aspect and the form of breathing men. But grief should be the instructor of the wise; Sorrow is knowledge: they who know the most Must mourn the deepest o'er the fatal truth, The Tree of Knowledge is not that of Life. Philosophy and science, and the springs Of wonder, and the wisdom of the world, I have essay'd, and in my mind there is A power to make these subject to itselfBut they avail not: I have done men good, And I have met with good even among menBut this avail'd not: I have had my foes, And none have baffled, many fallen before meBut this avail'd not :-Good, or evil, life, Powers, passions, all I see in other beings, Have been to me as rain unto the sands,

Or lurking love of something on the earth. — Now to my task.—

Mysterious Agency! Ye spirits of the unbounded Universe! Whom I have sought in darkness and in bet Ye, who do compass earth about, and dwel In subtler essence-ye, to whom the tops Of mountains inaccessible are haunts, And earth's and ocean's caves familiar thing I call upon ye by the written charm Which gives me power upon you-Rise! appea

They come not yet.-Now by the voice of Lam
Who is the first among you-by this sign,
Which makes you tremble-by the claims of
Who is undying,-Rise! appear!—Appear!
A pa

If it be so,-Spirits of earth and air,
Ye shall not thus elude me: by a power.
Deeper than all yet urged, a tyrant-spel,
Which had its birth-place in a star condem
The burning wreck of a demolish'd word,
A wandering hell in the eternal space!
By the strong curse which is upon my soul,