Critical Observations on the Morgante Maggiore. 
Thus said, they mingled in the thickest 
fight 5 
Once more the dying warrior grasp’d his 
blade, 
And, though th’ approach of death had 
dimm’d his sight, 
Among the ranks a bloody trophy made : 
Close on the confines of eternal night, 
Still his sad friend with wond’ring eye 
Survey'd, 
Such acts as might have grac’d youth’s vi- 
gorous day ; ; 
For the soui’s fire surviv’d the strength’s 
decay. 
Thus thro’ the storm of swords and spears 
they go, 
Still dealing vengeance and despair around; 
But Oliver, who now, more faint and slow, 
The heavy hand of Death oppressive founa, 
Made for the tent ; the end of all his woe 
He felt approaching from his mortal wound. 
*¢ Ob! yeta little wait! Orlando cries, 
‘*1l) sound my horn, assistance near us 
lies: 
€* My cousin!” he replied, ‘there is no 
need ! 
My soul is struggling from its gaol to flee 
It soars expectant of the promis’d meed= 
It beats—it pants——it must—=it will be free!” 
More words he would have said 3 but Heav’n 
decreed 
An instant change for immortality. 
Yet his last wish Orlando knew full well, 
** Guard and protect my sister Alda-belie '” 
Now, when he knew the gallant spirit fled, 
He seem’d on earth’s wild coast alone to 
stay 3 
And sick at heart and sorrowful, he sped 
To reach a hillock that adjoining lay, 
And there he blew a blast, soshril! and dread, 
That every Pagan trembied with dismay ; 
Another, and another yet, he blew: 
With the third biast his horn was split in 
too. C27 SG O04. 
The third blast from Orlando’s famous 
horn was so violent, as not only to burst 
the instrument, but to force blood through 
the eyes and nostrils of the gallant kniehe, 
Phe noise so alarmed the Pagan host, that 
they began to fly in all directions; Or- 
jando drew, for the last time, his Durin- 
dana, and returned to the field, disconso- 
late for the loss of his friend, and mise- 
vable and broken in spirit, “ like one re- 
turning from the funeral of one much 
loved, to give comfort to the little affict- 
ed family.” ' 
Come chi torna dal furereo lutto, 
Alla sua Famigliuola a dar conforto, 
Here, however, he experienced little 
consolation, and was unable to render 
any. During the short period of his ab- 
sence, Evibard, Avino, Avolio, Walter, 
Moncury Mae., No, 159. 
7103 
and Richard of Normandy had perished ; 
Rinaldo and Richardetto, still alive, were 
at a distance engaged in the pursuit of 
flying squadrons; the brave Archbishop 
and Anselm, one of the most distinguish- 
ed among the christian warriors, had 
alone of all the band besides, hitherto es- 
caped. But the latter, exhausted, and 
worn out with wounds, and fatigued, was 
unhorsed and slain by a Saracen prince, 
just as Orlando. returned to the ground. 
That illustrious paladin, careless of life, 
now rode like a madman into the thickest 
ranks of the enemy, and took an ample 
vengeance for the death of this last of his 
friends. At length, tired and spent with 
fatigue, wounded, and overcome with in- 
tolerable thirst, seeing the Pagans flying 
in all directions, the vanquished victor re- 
treated to the borders of a fountain which 
he had discovered the preceding day. 
Oppress’d with wounds and toil, the valiant 
knight 
Could now support his helmet’s weight no 
more, 
Tir'd by the labours of so hot a fight, 
Parch’d by a burning thirst unfelt before : 
H¢ now remember’d where, the former night, 
From a clear fount the chrystal stream he 
bore. 
Thither he urg’d his course s there sought ree 
pose, 
And wash’d his wounds, and rested from his 
woes. 
His faithful steed that long had serv’d him 
well 
In war and peace, now clos’d his languid 
Knelt at his feet, and seem’d to say, ** Fare- 
well! ; 
‘*l’ve brought thee to the destin’d port, and 
die.”’ 
Orlando felt anew his sorrows swell, 
When he beheld his Vegliantino lie 
tretch’d on the field, the crystal fount be- 
side, 
Stiffen’d his limbs, and cold his warlike pride. 
And ‘¢ Ob, my much-lov’d steed! my gene- 
rous friend ! 
<* Companion of my better years (he said); 
And have [ liv’d to see so sad an end 
Toall thy toils, and thy b-ave spit fled? 
Oh pardon me. ife’er I did offend 
Vith hasty wrong that kind and faithful 
heaa |” 
just then his eyesa momentary light 
Fiash’d quick—then clos’d againin endless 
night. 
Now, when Orlando found himself alone, 
Upon the plain he cast his languid eyes ; 
But there no kindred forms, no triends well- 
known, 
Of all his host, to meet his sight arise. 
40 With 
