its virtues and noble aspirations. In his immortal 'Don Quixote,' Cervantes held its extravagances up to ridicule. In Ariosto's day no one believed any longer in the heroes or the ideals of chivalry, nor did the poet himself; hence there is an air of unreality about the poem. The figures that pass before us, although they have certain characteristics of their own, are not real beings, but those that dwell in a land of fancy. As the poet tells these stories of a bygone age, a smile of irony plays upon his face; he cannot take them seriously; and while he never goes so far as to turn into ridicule the ideals of chivalry, yet, in such episodes as the prodigious exploits of Rodomonte within the walls of Paris, and the voyage of Astolfo to the moon, he does approach dangerously near to the burlesque.

We are not inspired by large and noble thoughts in reading the 'Orlando Furioso.' We are not deeply stirred by pity or terror. No lofty principles are inculcated. Even the pathetic scenes, such as the death of Zerbino and Isabella, stir no real emotion in us, but we experience a sense of the artistic effect of a poetic death.

It is not often, in these days of the making of many books of which there is no end, that one has time to read a poem which is longer than the Iliad' and the Odyssey' together. But there is a

compelling charm about the 'Orlando,' and he who sits down to read it with serious purpose will soon find himself under the spell of an attraction which comes from unflagging interest and from perfection of style and construction. No translation can convey an adequate sense of this beauty of color and form; but the versions of William Stewart Rose, here cited, suggest the energy, invention, and intensity of the epic.

In 1532 Ariosto published his final edition of the poem, now enlarged to forty-six cantos, and retouched from beginning to end. He died not long afterward, in 1533, and was buried in the church of San Benedetto, where a magnificent monument marks his restingplace.

1. Oscar Kuhne.

THE FRIENDSHIP OF MEDORO AND CLORIDANE
From Orlando Furioso,' Cantos 18 and 19

TWO

wo Moors among the Paynim army were,
From stock obscure in Ptolomita grown;
Of whom the story, an example rare

Of constant love, is worthy to be known.

Medore and Cloridane were named the pair;

Who, whether Fortune pleased to smile or frown, Served Dardinello with fidelity,

And late with him to France had crost the sea.

Of nimble frame and strong was Cloridane,

Throughout his life a follower of the chase. A cheek of white, suffused with crimson grain, Medoro had, in youth, a pleasing grace; Nor bound on that emprize, 'mid all the train, Was there a fairer or more jocund face. Crisp hair he had of gold, and jet-black eyes; And seemed an angel lighted from the skies.

These two were posted on a rampart's height,

With more to guard the encampment from surprise, When 'mid the equal intervals, at night,

Medoro gazed on heaven with sleepy eyes. In all his talk, the stripling, woeful wight, Here cannot choose, but of his lord devise,

The royal Dardinel; and evermore

Him left unhonored on the field, deplore.

Then, turning to his mate, cries, Cloridane,

I cannot tell thee what a cause of woe

It is to me, my lord upon the plain

Should lie, unworthy food for wolf or crow!
Thinking how still to me he was humane,
Meseems, if in his honor I forego
This life of mine, for favors so immense
I shall but make a feeble recompense.

"That he may not lack sepulture, will I

Go forth, and seek him out among the slain, And haply God may will that none shall spy

Where Charles's camp lies hushed. Do thou remain:

That, if my death be written in the sky,

Thou may'st the deed be able to explain.

So that if Fortune foil so far a feat,

The world, through Fame, my loving heart may weet. " Amazed was Cloridane a child should show

Such heart, such love, and such fair loyalty; And fain would make the youth his thought forego, Whom he held passing dear: but fruitlessly Would move his steadfast purpose; for such woe Will neither comforted nor altered be.

Medoro is disposed to meet his doom,

Or to inclose his master in the tomb.

Seeing that naught would bend him, naught would move "I too will go," was Cloridane's reply:

"In such a glorious act myself will prove;
As well such famous death I covet, I.
What other thing is left me, here above,

Deprived of thee, Medoro mine? To die
With thee in arms is better, on the plain,
Than afterwards of grief, shouldst thou be slain."
And thus resolved, disposing in their place

Their guard's relief, depart the youthful pair,
Leave fosse and palisade, and in small space
Are among ours, who watch with little care;
Who, for they little fear the Paynim race,

Slumber with fires extinguished everywhere.
'Mid carriages and arms they lie supine,
Up to the eyes immersed in sleep and wine.

A moment Cloridano stopt, and cried,

"Not to be lost are opportunities.

This troop, by whom my master's blood was shed,
Medoro, ought not I to sacrifice?

Do thou, lest any one this way be led,

Watch everywhere about, with ears and eyes,

For a wide way, amid the hostile horde,
I offer here to make thee with my sword."

So said he, and his talk cut quickly short,

Coming where learned Alpheus slumbered nigh:
Who had the year before sought Charles's court,
In med'cine, magic, and astrology

Well versed: but now in art found small support,
Or rather found that it was all a lie.

He had foreseen that he his long-drawn life
Should finish on the bosom of his wife.

And now the Saracen with wary view

Had pierced his weasand with the pointed sword. Four others he near that Diviner slew,

Nor gave the wretches time to say a word. Sir Turpin in his story tells not who,

And Time has of their names effaced record. Palidon of Moncalier next he speeds;

One who securely sleeps between two steeds.

Rearing th' insidious blade, the pair are near

The place where round King Charles's pavilion Are tented warlike paladin and peer,

Guarding the side that each is camped upon, When in good time the Paynims backward steer,

And sheathe their swords, the impious slaughter done. Deeming impossible, in such a number,

But they must light on one who does not slumber.

And though they might escape well charged with prey, To save themselves they think sufficient gain.

Thither by what he deems the safest way

(Medoro following him) went Cloridane

Where in the field, 'mid bow and falchion lay,
And shield and spear, in pool of purple stain,
Wealthy and poor, the king and vassal's corse,
And overthrown the rider and his horse.

The silvery splendor glistened yet more clear,
There where renowned Almontes's son lay dead.

Faithful Medoro mourned his master dear,

Who well agnized the quartering white and red, With visage bathed in many a bitter tear

(For he a rill from either eyelid shed),

And piteous act and moan, that might have whist
The winds, his melancholy plaint to list;

But with a voice supprest-not that he aught
Regards if any one the noise should hear,
Because he of his life takes any thought,

Of which loathed burden he would fain be clear;
But lest his being heard should bring to naught

The pious purpose which has brought them here-
The youths the king upon their shoulders stowed;
And so between themselves divide the load.

Hurrying their steps, they hastened, as they might,

Under the cherished burden they conveyed;

And now approaching was the lord of light,

To sweep from heaven the stars, from earth the shade, When good Zerbino, he whose valiant sprite

Was ne'er in time of need by sleep down-weighed, From chasing Moors all night, his homeward way Was taking to the camp at dawn of day.

He has with him some horsemen in his train,
That from afar the two companions spy.
Expecting thus some spoil or prize to gain,

They, every one, toward that quarter hie. "Brother, behoves us," cried young Cloridane,

"To cast away the load we bear, and fly; For 'twere a foolish thought (might well be said) To lose two living men, to save one dead;"

And dropt the burden, weening his Medore

Had done the same by it, upon his side;
But that poor boy, who loved his master more,
His shoulders to the weight alone applied:
Cloridane hurrying with all haste before,

Deeming him close behind him or beside;
Who, did he know his danger, him to save
A thousand deaths, instead of one, would brave.

The closest path, amid the forest gray,

To save himself, pursued the youth forlorn; But all his schemes were marred by the delay

Of that sore weight upon his shoulders borne. The place he knew not, and mistook the way,

And hid himself again in sheltering thorn. Secure and distant was his mate, that through The greenwood shade with lighter shoulders flew.

So far was Cloridane advanced before,

He heard the boy no longer in the wind;
But when he marked the absence of Medore,
It seemed as if his heart was left behind.
"Ah! how was I so negligent," (the Moor

Exclaimed) "so far beside myself, and blind,
That, I, Medoro, should without thee fare,
Nor know when I deserted thee or where?"