s critical moment in his poem that Boiardo died. Ariosto
took up the story where he had left it, and carried it on until the
final defeat of Agramante, and his death at the hands of Orlando in the
desert island.

[Illustration: LODOVICO ARIOSTO.]

But we must not think that the 'Orlando Furioso' has one definite plot.
At first reading we are confused by the multiplicity of incident, by the
constant change of scene, and by the breaking off of one story to make
place for another. In a single canto the scene changes from France to
Africa, and by means of winged horses tremendous distances are traveled
over in a day. On closer examination we find that this confusion is only
apparent. The poet himself is never confused, but with sure hand he
manipulates the many-colored threads which are wrought into the fabric
of the poem. The war between the Saracens and the Christians is a sort
of background or stage; a rallying point for the characters. In reality
it attracts but slightly our attention or interest. Again, Orlando's
love for Angelica, and his madness,--although the latter gave the title
to the book, and both afford some of the finest episodes,--have no
organic connection with the whole. The real subject, if any there be, is
the loves of Ruggiero and Bradamante. These are the supposed ancestors
of the house of Este, and it is with their final union, after many
vicissitudes, that the poem ends.

But the real purpose of Ariosto was to amuse the reader by countless
stories of romantic adventure. It was not as a great creative genius, as
the inventor of new characters, as the earnest and philosophical
reformer, that he appears to mankind, but as the supreme artist. Ariosto
represents in its highest development that love for form, that
perfection of style, which is characteristic of the Latin races as
distinguished from the Teutonic. It is this that makes the 'Orlando
Furioso' the great epic of the Renaissance, and that caused Galileo to
bestow upon the poet the epithet "divine."

For nearly thirty years Ariosto changed and polished these lines, so
that the edition of 1532 is quite different from that of 1516. The
stanzas in which the poem is written are smooth and musical, the
language is so chosen as always to express the exact shade of thought,
the interest never flags. What seems the arbitrary breaking off of a
story before its close is really the art of the poet; for he knows, were
each episode to be told by itself, we