Part 19 (2/2)

XXII Before the rest forth p.r.i.c.ked the Soldan fast, Against the watch, not yet in order just, As swift as hideous Boreas' hasty blast From hollow rocks when first his storms outburst, The raging floods, that trees and rocks down cast, Thunders, that towns and towers drive to dust: Earthquakes, to tear the world in twain that threat, Are naught, compared to his fury great.

XXIII He struck no blow, but that his foe he hit; And never hit, but made a grievous wound: And never wounded, but death followed it; And yet no peril, hurt or harm he found, No weapon on his hardened helmet bit, No puissant stroke his senses once astound, Yet like a bell his tinkling helmet rung, And thence flew flames of fire and sparks among.

XXIV Himself well nigh had put the watch to flight, A jolly troop of Frenchmen strong and stout, When his Arabians came by heaps to fight, Covering, like raging floods, the fields about; The beaten Christians run away full light, The Pagans, mingled with the flying rout, Entered their camp, and filled, as they stood, Their tents with ruin, slaughter, death and blood.

XXV High on the Soldan's helm enamelled laid An hideous dragon, armed with many a scale, With iron paws, and leathern wings displayed, Which twisted on a knot her forked tail, With triple tongue it seemed she hissed and brayed, About her jaws the froth and venom trail, And as he stirred, and as his foes him hit, So flames to cast and fire she seemed to spit.

XXVI With this strange light, the Soldan fierce appeared Dreadful to those that round about him been, As to poor sailors, when huge storms are reared, With lightning flash the rafting seas are seen; Some fled away, because his strength they feared, Some bolder gainst him bent their weapons keen, And forward night, in evils and mischiefs pleased, Their dangers hid, and dangers still increased.

XXVII Among the rest that strove to merit praise, Was old Latinus, born by Tiber's bank, To whose stout heart in fights and b.l.o.o.d.y frays, For all his eild, base fear yet never sank; Five sons he had, the comforts of his days, That from his side in no adventure shrank, But long before their time, in iron strong They clad their members, tender, soft and young.

XXVIII The bold ensample of their father's might Their weapons whetted and their wrath increased, ”Come let us go,” quoth he, ”where yonder knight Upon our soldiers makes his b.l.o.o.d.y feast, Let not their slaughter once your hearts affright, Where danger most appears, there fear it least, For honor dwells in hard attempts, my sons, And greatest praise, in greatest peril, wons.”

XXIX Her tender brood the forest's savage queen, Ere on their crests their rugged manes appear, Before their mouths by nature armed been, Or paws have strength a silly lamb to tear, So leadeth forth to prey, and makes them keen, And learns by her ensample naught to fear The hunter, in those desert woods that takes The lesser beasts whereon his feast he makes.

x.x.x The n.o.ble father and his hardy crew Fierce Solyman on every side invade, At once all six upon the Soldan flew, With lances sharp, and strong encounters made, His broken spear the eldest boy down threw, And boldly, over-boldly, drew his blade, Wherewith he strove, but strove therewith in vain, The Pagan's steed, unmarked, to have slain.

x.x.xI But as a mountain or a cape of land a.s.sailed with storms and seas on every side, Doth unremoved, steadfast, still withstand Storm, thunder, lightning, tempest, wind, and tide: The Soldan so withstood Latinus' band, And unremoved did all their justs abide, And of that hapless youth, who hurt his steed, Down to the chin he cleft in twain the head.

x.x.xII Kind Aramante, who saw his brother slain, To hold him up stretched forth his friendly arm, Oh foolish kindness, and oh pity vain, To add our proper loss, to other's harm!

The prince let fall his sword, and cut in twain About his brother twined, the child's weak arm.

Down from their saddles both together slide, Together mourned they, and together died.

x.x.xIII That done, Sabino's lance with nimble force He cut in twain, and 'gainst the stripling bold He spurred his steed, that underneath his horse The hardy infant tumbled on the mould, Whose soul, out squeezed from his bruised corpse, With ugly painfulness forsook her hold, And deeply mourned that of so sweet a cage She left the bliss, and joys of youthful age.

x.x.xIV But Picus yet and Lawrence were on live, Whom at one birth their mother fair brought out, A pair whose likeness made the parents strive Oft which was which, and joyed in their doubt: But what their birth did undistinguished give, The Soldan's rage made known, for Picus stout Headless at one huge blow he laid in dust, And through the breast his gentle brother thrust.

x.x.xV Their father, but no father now, alas!

When all his n.o.ble sons at once were slain, In their five deaths so often murdered was, I know not how his life could him sustain, Except his heart were forged of steel or bra.s.s, Yet still he lived, pardie, he saw not plain Their dying looks, although their deaths he knows, It is some ease not to behold our woes.

x.x.xVI He wept not, for the night her curtain spread Between his cause of weeping and his eyes, But still he mourned and on sharp vengeance fed, And thinks he conquers, if revenged he dies; He thirsts the Soldan's heathenish blood to shed, And yet his own at less than naught doth prize, Nor can he tell whether he liefer would, Or die himself, or kill the Pagan bold.

x.x.xVII At last, ”Is this right hand,” quoth he, ”so weak, That thou disdain'st gainst me to use thy might?

Can it naught do? can this tongue nothing speak That may provoke thine ire, thy wrath and spite?”

With that he struck, his anger great to wreak, A blow, that pierced the mail and metal bright, And in his flank set ope a floodgate wide, Whereat the blood out streamed from his side.

x.x.xVIII Provoked with his cry, and with that blow, The Turk upon him gan his blade discharge, He cleft his breastplate, having first pierced through, Lined with seven bulls' hides, his mighty targe, And sheathed his weapons in his guts below; Wretched Latinus at that issue large, And at his mouth, poured out his vital blood, And sprinkled with the same his murdered brood.

x.x.xIX On Apennine like as a st.u.r.dy tree, Against the winds that makes resistance stout, If with a storm it overturned be, Falls down and breaks the trees and plants about; So Latine fell, and with him felled he And slew the nearest of the Pagans' rout, A worthy end, fit for a man of fame, That dying, slew; and conquered, overcame.

XL Meanwhile the Soldan strove his rage To satisfy with blood of Christian spilled, The Arabians heartened by their captain stern, With murder every tent and cabin filled, Henry the English knight, and Olipherne, O fierce Draguto, by thy hands were killed!

Gilbert and Philip were by Ariadene Both slain, both born upon the banks of Rhone.

XLI Albazar with his mace Ernesto slew, Under Algazel Engerlan down fell, But the huge murder of the meaner crew, Or manner of their deaths, what tongue can tell?

G.o.dfrey, when first the heathen trumpets blew, Awaked, which heard, no fear could make him dwell, But he and his were up and armed ere long, And marched forward with a squadron strong.

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