Part 17 (2/2)

Oh miracle, sweet, gentle, strange and true!

My limbs new strength received, and vigor new.

XXIX ”I gazed on them like one whose heart denieth To think that done, he sees so strangely wrought; Till one said thus, 'O thou of little faith, What doubts perplex thy unbelieving thought?

Each one of us a living body hath, We are Christ's chosen servants, fear us naught, Who to avoid the world's allurements vain, In wilful penance, hermits poor remain.

x.x.x ”'Us messengers to comfort thee elect That Lord hath sent that rules both heaven and h.e.l.l; Who often doth his blessed will effect, By such weak means, as wonder is to tell; He will not that this body lie neglect, Wherein so n.o.ble soul did lately dwell To which again when it uprisen is It shall united be in lasting bliss.

x.x.xI ”'I say Lord Sweno's corpse, for which prepared A tomb there is according to his worth, By which his honor shall be far declared, And his just praises spread from south to north:”

But lift thine eyes up to the heavens ward, Mark yonder light that like the sun s.h.i.+nes forth That shall direct thee with those beams so clear, To find the body of thy master dear.'

x.x.xII ”With that I saw from Cynthia's silver face, Like to a falling star a beam down slide, That bright as golden line marked out the place, And lightened with clear streams the forest wide; So Latmos shone when Phoebe left the chase, And laid her down by her Endymion's side, Such was the light that well discern I could, His shape, his wounds, his face, though dead, yet bold.

x.x.xIII ”He lay not grovelling now, but as a knight That ever had to heavenly things desire, So toward heaven the prince lay bolt upright, Like him that upward still sought to aspire, His right hand closed held his weapon bright, Ready to strike and execute his ire, His left upon his breast was humbly laid, That men might know, that while he died he prayed.

x.x.xIV ”Whilst on his wounds with bootless tears I wept, That neither helped him, nor eased my care, One of those aged fathers to him stepped, And forced his hand that needless weapon spare: 'This sword,' quoth he, 'hath yet good token kept, That of the Pagans' blood he drunk his share, And blusheth still he could not save his lord, Rich, strong and sharp, was never better sword.

x.x.xV ”'Heaven, therefore, will not, though the prince be slain, Who used erst to wield this precious brand That so brave blade unused should remain; But that it pa.s.s from strong to stronger hand, Who with like force can wield the same again, And longer shall in grace of fortune stand, And with the same shall bitter vengeance take On him that Sweno slew, for Sweno's sake.

x.x.xVI ”'Great Solyman killed Sweno, Solyman For Sweno's sake, upon this sword must die.

Here, take the blade, and with it haste thee than Thither where G.o.dfrey doth encamped lie, And fear not thou that any shall or can Or stop thy way, or lead thy steps awry; For He that doth thee on this message send, Thee with His hand shall guide, keep and defend.

x.x.xVII ”'Arrived there it is His blessed will, With true report that thou declare and tell The zeal, the strength, the courage and the skill In thy beloved lord that late did dwell, How for Christ's sake he came his blood to spill, And sample left to all of doing well, That future ages may admire his deed, And courage take when his brave end they read.

x.x.xVIII ”'It resteth now, thou know that gentle knight That of this sword shall be thy master's heir, It is Rinaldo young, with whom in might And martial skill no champion may compare, Give it to him and say, ”The Heavens bright Of this revenge to him commit the care.”

While thus I listened what this old man said, A wonder new from further speech us stayed;

x.x.xIX ”For there whereas the wounded body lay, A stately tomb with curious work, behold, And wondrous art was built out of the clay, Which, rising round, the carca.s.s did enfold; With words engraven in the marble gray, The warrior's name, his worth and praise that told, On which I gazing stood, and often read That epitaph of my dear master dead.

XL ”'Among his soldiers,' quoth the hermit, 'here Must Sweno's corpse remain in marble chest, While up to heaven are flown their spirits dear, To live in endless joy forever blest, His funeral thou hast with many a tear Accompanied, it's now high time to rest, Come be my guest, until the morning ray Shall light the world again, then take thy way.'

XLI ”This said, he led me over holts and hags, Through thorns and bushes scant my legs I drew Till underneath a heap of stones and crags At last he brought me to a secret mew; Among the bears, wild boars, the wolves and stags, There dwelt he safe with his disciple true, And feared no treason, force, nor hurt at all, His guiltless conscience was his castle's wall.

XLII ”My supper roots; my bed was moss and leaves; But weariness in little rest found ease: But when the purple morning night bereaves Of late usurped rule on lands and seas, His loathed couch each wakeful hermit leaves, To pray rose they, and I, for so they please, I congee took when ended was the same, And hitherward, as they advised me, came.”

XLIII The Dane his woful tale had done, when thus The good Prince G.o.dfrey answered him, ”Sir knight, Thou bringest tidings sad and dolorous, For which our heavy camp laments of right, Since so brave troops and so dear friends to us, One hour hath spent, in one unlucky fight; And so appeared hath thy master stout, As lightning doth, now kindled, now quenched out.

XLIV ”But such a death and end exceedeth all The conquests vain of realms, or spoils of gold, Nor aged Rome's proud stately capital, Did ever triumph yet like theirs behold; They sit in heaven on thrones celestial, Crowned with glory, for their conquest bold, Where each his hurts I think to other shows, And glories in those b.l.o.o.d.y wounds and blows.

XLV ”But thou who hast part of thy race to run, With haps and hazards of this world ytost, rejoice, for those high honors they have won, Which cannot be by chance or fortune crossed: But for thou askest for Bertoldo's son, Know, that he wandereth, banished from this host, And till of him new tidings some man tell, Within this camp I deem it best thou dwell.”

XLVI These words of theirs in many a soul renewed The sweet remembrance of fair Sophia's child, Some with salt tears for him their cheeks bedewed, Lest evil betide him mongst the Pagans wild, And every one his valiant prowess showed, And of his battles stories long compiled, Telling the Dane his acts and conquests past, Which made his ears amazed, his heart aghast.

XLVII Now when remembrance of the youth had wrought A tender pity in each softened mind, Behold returned home with all they caught The bands that were to forage late a.s.signed, And with them in abundance great they brought Both flocks and herds of every sort and kind.

And corn, although not much, and hay to feed Their n.o.ble steeds and coursers when they need.

XLVIII They also brought of misadventure sad Tokens and signs, seemed too apparent true, Rinaldo's armor, frushed and hacked they had, Oft pierced through, with blood besmeared new; About the camp, for always rumors bad Are farthest spread, these woful tidings flew.

Thither a.s.sembled straight both high and low, Longing to see what they were loth to know.

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