Stories from the Italian Poets: with Lives of the Writers, Volume 1 eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 338 pages of information about Stories from the Italian Poets.

Stories from the Italian Poets: with Lives of the Writers, Volume 1 eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 338 pages of information about Stories from the Italian Poets.
“Our ancient fathers in the desert,” quoth he, “were rewarded according to their holiness.  It is not to be supposed that they lived only upon locusts; doubtless, it also rained manna upon them from heaven; but here one is regaled with stones, which the giants pour on us from the mountain.  These are our nice bits and relishes.  The fiercest of the three, Morgante, plucks up pines and other great trees by the roots, and casts them on us.”  While they were talking thus in the cemetery, there came a stone which seemed as if it would break Rondel’s back.

“For God’s sake, cavalier,” said the abbot, “come in, for the manna is falling.”

“My dear abbot,” answered Orlando, “this fellow, methinks, does not wish to let my horse feed; he wants to cure him of being restive; the stone seems as if it came from a good arm.”  “Yes,” replied the holy father, “I did not deceive you.  I think, some day or other, they will cast the mountain itself on us.”

Orlando quieted his horse, and then sat down to a meal; after which he said, “Abbot, I must go and return the present that has been made to my horse.”  The abbot with great tenderness endeavoured to dissuade him, but in vain; upon which he crossed him on the forehead, and said, “Go, then; and the blessing of God be with you.”

Orlando scaled the mountain, and came where Passamonte was, who, seeing him alone, measured him with his eyes, and asked him if he would stay with him for a page, promising to make him comfortable.  “Stupid Saracen,” said Orlando, “I come to you, according to the will of God, to be your death, and not your foot-boy.  You have displeased his servants here, and are no longer to be endured, dog that you are!”

The giant, finding himself thus insulted, ran in a fury to his weapons; and returning to Orlando, slung at him a large stone, which struck him on the head with such force, as not only made his helmet ring again, but felled him to the earth.  Passamonte thought he was dead.  “What could have brought that paltry fellow here?” said he, as he turned away.  But Christ never forsakes his followers.  While Passamonte was going away, Orlando recovered, and cried aloud, “How now, giant? do you fancy you have killed me?  Turn back, for unless you have wings, your escape is out of the question, dog of a renegade!” The giant, greatly marvelling, turned back; and stooping to pick up a stone, Orlando, who had Cortana naked in his hand, cleft his skull; upon which, cursing Mahomet, the monster tumbled, dying and blaspheming, to the ground.  Blaspheming fell the sour-hearted and cruel wretch; but Orlando, in the mean while, thanked the Father and the Word.

The Paladin went on, seeking for Alabastro, the second giant; who, when he saw him, endeavoured to pluck up a great piece of stony earth by the roots.  “Ho, ho!” cried Orlando, “you too are for throwing stones, are you?” Then Alabastro took his sling, and flung at him so large a fragment as forced Orlando to defend himself, for if it had struck him, he would no more have needed a surgeon;[1] but collecting his strength, he thrust his sword into the giant’s breast, and the loggerhead fell dead.

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Stories from the Italian Poets: with Lives of the Writers, Volume 1 from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.