C.D. Warner, et al., comp. The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.
The Conversion of the Giant Morgante
By Luigi Pulci (1432–1484)
B
Ever some bar ’gainst our intents to bring.
While Charles reposed him thus, in word and deed
Orlando ruled court, Charles, and everything;
Curst Gan, with envy bursting, had such need
To vent his spite, that thus with Charles the King
One day he openly began to say,—
“Orlando must we always then obey?
Orlando too presumptuously goes on.
Here are we, counts, kings, dukes, to own thy sway;
Hamo and Otho, Ogier, Solomon,
Each have to honor thee and to obey:
But he has too much credit near the throne;
Which we won’t suffer, but are quite decided
By such a boy to be no longer guided.
To let him know he was a gallant knight,
And by the fount did much the day to win;
But I know who that day had won the fight
If it had not for good Gherardo been:
The victory was Almonte’s else; his sight
He kept upon the standard, and the laurels
In fact and fairness are his earning, Charles.
When there advanced the nations out of Spain,
The Christian cause had suffered shamefully,
Had not his valor driven them back again.
Best speak the truth when there’s a reason why:
Know then, O Emperor! that all complain;
As for myself, I shall repass the mounts
O’er which I crossed with two-and-sixty counts.
So that each here may have his proper part,
For the whole court is more or less in grief:
Perhaps thou deem’st this lad a Mars in heart?”
Orlando one day heard this speech in brief,
As by himself it chanced he sat apart:
Displeased he was with Gan because he said it,
But much more still that Charles should give him credit.
But Oliver thrust in between the pair,
And from his hand extracted Durlindan,
And thus at length they separated were.
Orlando, angry too with Carloman,
Wanted but little to have slain him there;
Then forth alone from Paris went the chief,
And burst and maddened with disdain and grief….
And far as pagan countries roamed astray,
And while he rode, yet still at every pace
The traitor Gan remembered by the way;
And wandering on in error a long space,
An abbey which in a lone desert lay,
’Midst glens obscure and distant lands, he found,
Which formed the Christian’s and the pagan’s bound.
Descended from Angrante; under cover
Of a great mountain’s brow the abbey stood,
But certain savage giants looked him over:
One Passamont was foremost of the brood,
And Alabaster and Morgante hover
Second and third, with certain slings, and throw
In daily jeopardy the place below.
Nor leave their cells for water or for wood.
Orlando knocked, but none would ope, before
Unto the prior it at length seemed good;
Entered, he said that he was taught to adore
Him who was born of Mary’s holiest blood,
And was baptized a Christian; and then showed
How to the abbey he had found his road.
We give you freely, since that you believe
With us in Mary Mother’s son divine;
And that you may not, cavalier, conceive
The cause of our delay to let you in
To be rusticity, you shall receive
The reason why our gate was barred to you;—
Thus those who in suspicion live must do.
These mountains, albeit that they are obscure,
As you perceive, yet without fear or blame
They seemed to promise an asylum sure;
From savage brutes alone, too fierce to tame,
’Twas fit our quiet dwelling to secure;
But now, if here we’d stay, we needs must guard
Against domestic beasts with watch and ward.
For late there have appeared three giants rough:
What nation or what kingdom bore the batch
I know not; but they are all of savage stuff.
When force and malice with some genius match,
You know they can do all—we are not enough;
And these so much our orisons derange,
I know not what to do till matters change.
For just and holy works were duly fed;
Think not they lived on locusts sole,—’tis certain
That manna was rained down from heaven instead:
But here ’tis fit we keep on the alert in
Our bounds, or taste the stones showered down for bread,
From oft yon mountain daily raining faster,
And flung by Passamont and Alabaster.
Plucks up pines, beeches, poplar-trees, and oaks,
And flings them, our community to bury;
And all that I can do but more provokes.”
While thus they parley in the cemetery,
A stone from one of their gigantic strokes,
Which nearly crushed Rondell, came tumbling over,
So that he took a long leap under cover.
The manna’s falling now,” the abbot cried.
“This fellow does not wish my horse should feed,
Dear abbot,” Roland unto him replied:
“Of restiveness he’d cure him had he need;
That stone seems with good will and aim applied.”
The holy father said, “I don’t deceive:
They’ll one day fling the mountain, I believe.”
And also made a breakfast of his own.
“Abbot,” he said, “I want to find that fellow
Who flung at my good horse yon corner-stone.”
Said the abbot, “Let not my advice seem shallow,—
As to a brother dear I speak alone:
I would dissuade you, baron, from this strife,
As knowing sure that you will lose your life.
Such slings, clubs, ballast-stones, that yield you must;
You know that giants have much stouter hearts
Than we, with reason, in proportion just:
If go you will, guard well against their arts,
For these are very barbarous and robust.”
Orlando answered, “This I’ll see, be sure,
And walk the wild on foot to be secure.”
“Then go you with God’s benison and mine!”
Orlando, after he had scaled the mount,
As the abbot had directed, kept the line
Right to the usual haunt of Passamont;
Who, seeing him alone in this design,
Surveyed him fore and aft with eyes observant,
Then asked him “if he wished to stay as servant?”
But said Orlando, “Saracen insane!
I come to kill you, if it shall so please
God, not to serve as footboy in your train:
You with his monks so oft have broke the peace—
Vile dog! ’tis past his patience to sustain.”
The giant ran to fetch his arms, quite furious,
When he received an answer so injurious:
Who had not moved him from the spot, and swinging
The cord, he hurled a stone with strength so rude
As showed a sample of his skill in slinging;
It rolled on Count Orlando’s helmet good
And head, and set both head and helmet ringing.
So that he swooned with pain as if he died,
But more than dead, he seemed so stupefied.
Said, “I will go; and while he lies along,
Disarm me: why such craven did I fight?”
But Christ his servants ne’er abandons long,
Especially Orlando, such a knight
As to desert would almost be a wrong.
While the giant goes to put off his defenses,
Orlando has recalled his force and senses.
Thou thought’st me doubtless for the bier outlaid;
To the right about!—without wings thou’rt too slow
To fly my vengeance, currish renegade!
’Twas but by treachery thou laid’st me low.”
The giant his astonishment betrayed,
And turned about, and stopped his journey on,
And then he stooped to pick up a great stone.
To split the head in twain was what he schemed.
Cortana clave the skull like a true brand,
And pagan Passamont died unredeemed;
Yet harsh and haughty, as he lay he banned,
And most devoutly Macon still blasphemed:
But while his crude, rude blasphemies he heard,
Orlando thanked the Father and the Word,—
And I to thee, O Lord, am ever bound.
I know my life was saved by thee from heaven,
Since by the giant I was fairly downed.
All things by thee are measured just and even;
Our power without thine aid would naught be found.
I pray thee take heed of me, till I can
At least return once more to Carloman.”
And Alabaster he found out below,
Doing the very best that in him lay
To root from out a bank a rock or two.
Orlando, when he reached him, loud ’gan say,
“How think’st thou, glutton, such a stone to throw?”
When Alabaster heard his deep voice ring,
He suddenly betook him to his sling,
That if it had in fact fulfilled its mission,
And Roland not availed him of his targe,
There would have been no need of a physician.
Orlando set himself in turn to charge,
And in his bulky bosom made incision
With all his sword. The lout fell; but, o’erthrown, he
However by no means forgot Macone.
Composed of branches, logs of wood, and earth;
And stretched himself at ease in this abode,
And shut himself at night within his berth.
Orlando knocked, and knocked again, to goad
The giant from his sleep; and he came forth,
The door to open, like a crazy thing,
For a rough dream had shook him slumbering.
And Mahomet he called; but Mahomet
Is nothing worth, and not an instant backed him;
But praying blessed Jesu, he was set
At liberty from all the fears which racked him.
And to the gate he came with great regret:
“Who knocks here?” grumbling all the while, said he.
“That,” said Orlando, “you will quickly see.
Sent by the miserable monks—repentance;
For Providence divine, in you and others,
Condemns the evil done by new acquaintance.
’Tis writ on high, your wrong must pay another’s;
From heaven itself is issued out this sentence:
Know, then, that colder now than a pilaster
I left your Passamont and Alabaster.”
Now by thy God say me no villainy;
The favor of your name I fain would hear,
And if a Christian, speak for courtesy.”
Replied Orlando, “So much to your ear
I by my faith disclose contentedly,
Christ I adore, who is the genuine Lord,
And if you please, by you may be adored.”
“I have had an extraordinary vision;
A savage serpent fell on me alone,
And Macon would not pity my condition:
Hence to thy God, who for ye did atone
Upon the cross, preferred I my petition;
His timely succor set me safe and free,
And I a Christian am disposed to be.”
If this good wish your heart can really move
To the true God, who will not then deny us
Eternal honor, you will go above.
And if you please, as friends we will ally us,
And I will love you with a perfect love.
Your idols are vain liars full of fraud;
The only true God is the Christian’s God.
Of Mary Mother, sinless and divine;
If you acknowledge the Redeemer, blest,
Without whom neither sun nor star can shine,
Abjure bad Macon’s false and felon test,
Your renegado God, and worship mine,—
Baptize yourself with zeal, since you repent.”
To which Morgante answered, “I’m content.”
And made much of his convert, as he cried,
“To the abbey I will gladly marshal you.”
To whom Morgante “Let us go” replied:
“I to the friars have for peace to sue.”
Which thing Orlando heard with inward pride,
Saying, “My brother, so devout and good,
Ask the abbot pardon, as I wish you would;
Accepting you in mercy for his own,
Humility should be your first oblation.”
Morgante said, “For goodness’s sake make known—
Since that your God is to be mine—your station,
And let your name in verity be shown;
Then will I everything at your command do.”
On which the other said, he was Orlando.
A thousand times with gratitude and praise!
Oft, perfect baron! have I heard of you
Through all the different periods of my days;
And as I said, to be your vassal too
I wish, for your great gallantry always.”
Thus reasoning, they continued much to say,
And onwards to the abbey went their way….
Where waited them the abbot in great doubt.
The monks, who knew not yet the fact, ran thither
To their superior, all in breathless rout,
Saying, with tremor, “Please to tell us whether
You wish to have this person in or out?”
The abbot, looking through upon the giant,
Too greatly feared, at first, to be compliant.
Said quickly, “Abbot, be thou of good cheer:
He Christ believes, as Christian must be rated,
And hath renounced his Macon false;” which here
Morgante with the hands corroborated.—
A proof of both the giants’ fate quite clear;
Thence, with due thanks, the abbot God adored,
Saying, “Thou hast contented me, O Lord!”
And more than once contemplated his size;
And then he said, “O giant celebrated,
Know that no more my wonder will arise,
How you could tear and fling the trees you late did,
When I behold your form with my own eyes.”…
The abbot: many days they did repose.
One day, as with Orlando they both strayed,
And sauntered here and there where’er they chose,
The abbot showed a chamber where arrayed
Much armor was, and hung up certain bows;
And one of these Morgante for a whim
Girt on, though useless, he believed, to him.
Orlando, like a worthy brother, said,
“Morgante, I could wish you in this case
To go for water.” “You shall be obeyed
In all commands,” was the reply, “straightway.”
Upon his shoulder a great tub he laid,
And went out on his way unto a fountain,
Where he was wont to drink below the mountain.
Which suddenly along the forest spread;
Whereat from out his quiver he prepares
An arrow for his bow, and lifts his head:
And lo! a monstrous herd of swine appears,
And onward rushes with tempestuous tread,
And to the fountain’s brink precisely pours,
So that the giant’s joined by all the boars.
Which pierced a pig precisely in the ear,
And passed unto the other side quite through,
So that the boar, defunct, lay tripped up near.
Another, to revenge his fellow farrow,
Against the giant rushed in fierce career,
And reached the passage with so swift a foot,
Morgante was not now in time to shoot.
He gave him such a punch upon the head
As floored him so that he no more arose,
Smashing the very bone; and he fell dead
Next to the other. Having seen such blows,
The other pigs along the valley fled;
Morgante on his neck the bucket took,
Full from the spring, which neither swerved nor shook.
The hogs on t’other, and he brushed apace
On to the abbey, though by no means near,
Nor spilt one drop of water in his race.
Orlando, seeing him so soon appear
With the dead boars, and with that brimful vase,
Marveled to see his strength so very great;
So did the abbot, and set wide the gate.
Rejoiced, but much more to perceive the pork.
All animals are glad at sight of food:
They lay their breviaries to sleep, and work
With greedy pleasure, and in such a mood
That the flesh needs no salt beneath their fork;
Of rankness and of rot there is no fear,
For all the fasts are now left in arrear.
And gorged so that, as if the bones had been
In water, sorely grieved the dog and cat,
Perceiving that they all were picked too clean.
The abbot, who to all did honor great,
A few days after this convivial scene
Gave to Morgante a fine horse well trained,
Which he long time had for himself maintained.
To gallop, and to put him to the proof,
Thinking that he a back of iron had,
Or to skim eggs unbroke was light enough;
But the horse, sinking with the pain, fell dead,
And burst, while cold on earth lay head and hoof.
Morgante said, “Get up, thou sulky cur!”
And still continued pricking with the spur.
And said, “I am as light as any feather,
And he has burst: to this what say you, count?”
Orlando answered, “Like a ship’s mast rather
You seem to me, and with the truck for front:
Let him go; fortune wills that we together
Should march, but you on foot, Morgante, still.”
To which the giant answered, “So I will.
How I approve my courage in the fight.”
Orlando said, “I really think you’ll be,
If it should prove God’s will, a goodly knight;
Nor will you napping there discover me
But never mind your horse, though out of sight
’Twere best to carry him into some wood,
If but the means or way I understood.”
Since that to carry me he was so slack,—
To render, as the gods do, good for ill;
But lend a hand to place him on my back.”
Orlando answered, “If my counsel still
May weigh, Morgante, do not undertake
To lift or carry this dead courser, who
As you have done to him will do to you.
As Nessus did of old beyond all cure;
I don’t know if the fact you’ve heard or read,
But he will make you burst, you may be sure.”
“But help him on my back,” Morgante said,
“And you shall see what weight I can endure.
In place, my gentle Roland, of this palfrey,
With all the bells, I’d carry yonder belfry.”
But for the bells, you’ve broken them, I wot.”
Morgante answered, “Let them pay in hell
The penalty, who lie dead in yon grot.”
And hoisting up the horse from where he fell,
He said, “Now look if I the gout have got,
Orlando, in the legs—or if I have force;”—
And then he made two gambols with the horse.
So if he did this, ’tis no prodigy:
But secretly himself Orlando blamed,
Because he was one of his family;
And fearing that he might be hurt or maimed,
Once more he bade him lay his burthen by:
“Put down, nor bear him further the desert in.”
Morgante said, “I’ll carry him for certain.”
And to the abbey then returned with speed.
Orlando said, “Why longer do we stay,
Morgante? here is naught to do indeed.”