In the romance, as we know it, Alexander is described as a mediaeval rather than an ancient hero.  After giving the early history of Macedon, the poet tells of the birth of Alexander,—­which is ascribed to divine intervention,—­and dwells eloquently upon the hero’s youthful prowess.  Philip’s death and the consequent reign of Alexander next claim our attention.  The conquest of the world is, in this romance, introduced by the siege and submission of Rome, after which the young monarch starts upon his expedition into Asia Minor, and the conquest of Persia.  The war with Porus and the fighting in India are dwelt upon at great length, as are the riches and magnificence of the East.  Alexander visits Amazons and cannibals, views all the possible and impossible wonders, and in his fabulous history we find the first mention, in European literature, of the marvelous “Fountain of Youth,” the object of Ponce de Leon’s search in Florida many years later.

When, in the course of this lengthy romance, Alexander has triumphantly reached the ends of the earth, he sighs for new worlds to conquer, and even aspires to the dominion of the realm of the air.  To wish is to obtain.  A magic glass cage, rapidly borne aloft by eight griffins, conveys the conqueror through the aerial kingdom, where all the birds in turn do homage to him, and where he is enabled to understand their language, thanks to the kind intervention of a magician.

But Alexander’s ambition is still insatiable; and, earth and air having both submitted to his sway, and all the living creatures therein having recognized him as master and promised their allegiance, he next proposes to annex the empire of the sea.  Magic is again employed to gratify this wish, and Alexander sinks to the bottom of the sea in a peculiarly fashioned diving bell.  Here all the finny tribe press around to do him homage; and after receiving their oaths of fealty, and viewing all the marvels of the deep, as conceived by the mediaeval writer’s fancy, Alexander returns to Babylon.

Earth, air, and sea having all been subdued, the writer, unable to follow the course of Alexander’s conquests any further, now minutely describes a grand coronation scene at Babylon, where, with the usual disregard for chronology which characterizes all the productions of this age, he makes the hero participate in a solemn mass!

The story ends with a highly sensational description of the death of Alexander by poisoning, and an elaborate enumeration of the pomps of his obsequies.

[Sidenote:  Rome la Grant.] A third order of romances, also belonging to this cycle, includes a lengthy poem known as “Rome la Grant.”  Here Virgil appears as a common enchanter.  With the exception of a few well-known names, all trace of antiquity is lost.  The heroes are now exposed to hairbreadth escapes; wonderful adventures succeed one another without any pause; and there is a constant series of enchantments, such as the Italian poets loved to revel in, as is shown in the works by Boiardo and Ariosto already mentioned.