Part 26

CXV But this, alas, was not the appointed day, Set down by Heaven to end this mortal war: The western lords this time had borne away The prize, for which they travelled had so far, Had not the devils, that saw the sure decay Of their false kingdom by this bloody war, At once made heaven and earth with darkness blind, And stirred up tempests, storms, and blustering wind.

CXVI Heaven’s glorious lamp, wrapped in an ugly veil Of shadows dark, was hid from mortal eye, And hell’s grim blackness did bright skies assail; On every side the fiery lightnings fly, The thunders roar, the streaming rain and hail Pour down and make that sea which erst was dry. The tempests rend the oaks and cedars brake, And make not trees but rocks and mountains shake.

CXVII The rain, the lightning, and the raging wind, Beat in the Frenchmen’s eyes with hideous force, The soldiers stayed amazed in heart and mind, The terror such that stopped both man and horse. Surprised with this evil no way they find, Whither for succor to direct their course, But wise Clorinda soon the advantage spied, And spurring forth thus to her soldiers cried:

CXVIII “You hardy men at arms behold,” quoth she, “How Heaven, how Justice in our aid doth fight, Our visages are from this tempest free, Our hands at will may wield our weapons bright, The fury of this friendly storm you see Upon the foreheads of our foes doth light, And blinds their eyes, then let us take the tide, Come, follow me, good fortune be our guide.”

CXIX This said, against her foes on rode the dame, And turned their backs against the wind and rain; Upon the French with furious rage she came, And scorned those idle blows they struck in vain; Argantes at the instant did the same, And them who chased him now chased again, Naught but his fearful back each Christian shows Against the tempest, and against their blows.

CXX The cruel hail, and deadly wounding blade, Upon their shoulders smote them as they fled, The blood new spilt while thus they slaughter made, The water fallen from skies had dyed red, Among the murdered bodies Pyrrhus laid, And valiant Raiphe his heart blood there out bled, The first subdued by strong Argantes’ might, The second conquered by that virgin knight.

CXXI Thus fled the French, and then pursued in chase The wicked sprites and all the Syrian train: But gainst their force and gainst their fell menace Of hail and wind, of tempest and of rain, Godfrey alone turned his audacious face, Blaming his barons for their fear so vain, Himself the camp gate boldly stood to keep, And saved his men within his trenches deep.

CXXII And twice upon Argantes proud he flew, And beat him backward, maugre all his might, And twice his thirsty sword he did imbrue, In Pagan’s blood where thickest was the fight; At last himself with all his folk withdrew, And that day’s conquest gave the virgin bright, Which got, she home retired and all her men, And thus she chased this lion to his den.

CXXIII Yet ceased not the fury and the ire Of these huge storms, of wind, of rain and hail, Now was it dark, now shone the lightning fire, The wind and water every place assail, No bank was safe, no rampire left entire, No tent could stand, when beam and cordage fail, Wind, thunder, rain, all gave a dreadful sound, And with that music deafed the trembling ground.

EIGHTH BOOK

THE ARGUMENT. A messenger to Godfrey sage doth tell The Prince of Denmark’s valour, death and end: The Italians, trusting signs untrue too well, Think their Rinaldo slain: the wicked fiend Breeds fury in their breasts, their bosoms swell With ire and hate, and war and strife forth send: They threaten Godfrey; he prays to the Lord, And calms their fury with his look and word.

I Now were the skies of storms and tempests cleared, Lord Aeolus shut up his winds in hold, The silver-mantled morning fresh appeared, With roses crowned, and buskined high with gold; The spirits yet which had these tempests reared, Their malice would still more and more unfold; And one of them that Astragor was named, His speeches thus to foul Alecto framed.

II “Alecto, see, we could not stop nor stay The knight that to our foes new tidings brings, Who from the hands escaped, with life away, Of that great prince, chief of all Pagan kings: He comes, the fall of his slain lord to say, Of death and loss he tells, and such sad things, Great news he brings, and greatest dangers is, Bertoldo’s son shall be called home for this.

III “Thou knowest what would befall, bestir thee than; Prevent with craft, what force could not withstand, Turn to their evil the speeches of the man, With his own weapon wound Godfredo’s hand; Kindle debate, infect with poison wan The English, Switzer, and Italian band, Great tumult move, make brawls and quarrels rife, Set all the camp on uproar and at strife.

IV “This act beseems thee well, and of the deed Much may’st thou boast before our lord and king.” Thus said the sprite. Persuasion small did need, The monster grants to undertake the thing. Meanwhile the knight, whose coming thus they dread, Before the camp his weary limbs doth bring, And well-nigh breathless, “Warriors bold,” he cried, “Who shall conduct me to your famous guide?”

V An hundred strove the stranger’s guide to be, To hearken news the knights by heaps assemble, The man fell lowly down upon his knee, And kissed the hand that made proud Babel tremble; “Right puissant lord, whose valiant acts,” quoth he, “The sands and stars in number best resemble, Would God some gladder news I might unfold,” And there he paused, and sighed; then thus he told:

VI “Sweno, the King of Denmark’s only heir, The stay and staff of his declining eild, Longed to be among these squadrons fair Who for Christ’s faith here serve with spear and shield; No weariness, no storms of sea or air, No such contents as crowns and sceptres yield, No dear entreaties of so kind a sire, Could in his bosom quench that glorious fire.

VII “He thirsted sore to learn this warlike art Of thee, great lord and master of the same; And was ashamed in his noble heart, That never act he did deserved fame; Besides, the news and tidings from each part Of young Rinaldo’s worth and praises came: But that which most his courage stirred hath, Is zeal, religion, godliness, and faith.

VIII “He hasted forward, then without delay, And with him took of knights a chosen band, Directly toward Thrace we took the way, To Byzance old, chief fortress of that land, There the Greek monarch gently prayed him stay, And there an herald sent from you we fand, How Antioch was won, who first declared, And how defended nobly afterward.

IX “Defended gainst Corbana, valiant knight, That all the Persian armies had to guide, And brought so many soldiers bold to fight, That void of men he left that kingdom wide; He told thine acts, thy wisdom and thy might, And told the deeds of many a lord beside, His speech at length to young Rinaldo passed, And told his great achievements, first and last:

X “And how this noble camp of yours, of late Besieged had this town, and in what sort, And how you prayed him to participate Of the last conquest of this noble fort. In hardy Sweno opened was the gate Of worthy anger by this brave report, So that each hour seemed five years long, Till he were fighting with these Pagans strong.

XI “And while the herald told your fights and frays, Himself of cowardice reproved he thought, And him to stay that counsels him, or prays, He hears not, or, else heard, regardeth naught, He fears no perils but whilst he delays, Lest this last work without his help be wrought: In this his doubt, in this his danger lies, No hazard else he fears, no peril spies.

XII “Thus hasting on, he hasted on his death, Death that to him and us was fatal guide. The rising morn appeared yet aneath, When he and we were armed, and fit to ride, The nearest way seemed best, o’er hold and heath We went, through deserts waste, and forests wide, The streets and ways he openeth as he goes, And sets each land free from intruding foes.

XIII “Now want of food, now dangerous ways we find, Now open war, now ambush closely laid; Yet passed we forth, all perils left behind, Our foes or dead or run away afraid, Of victory so happy blew the wind, That careless all the heedless to it made: Until one day his tents he happed to rear, To Palestine when we approached near.

XIV “There did our scouts return and bring us news, That dreadful noise of horse and arms they hear, And that they deemed by sundry signs and shows There was some mighty host of Pagans near. At these sad tidings many changed their hues, Some looked pale for dread, some shook for fear, Only our noble lord was altered naught, In look, in face, in gesture, or in thought.

XV “But said, ‘A crown prepare you to possess Of martyrdom, or happy victory; For this I hope, for that I wish no less, Of greater merit and of greater glory. Brethren, this camp will shortly be, I guess, A temple, sacred to our memory, To which the holy men of future age, To view our graves shall come in pilgrimage.’

XVI “This said, he set the watch in order right To guard the camp, along the trenches deep, And as he armed was, so every knight He willed on his back his arms to keep. Now had the stillness of the quiet night Drowned all the world in silence and in sleep, When suddenly we heard a dreadful sound, Which deafed the earth, and tremble made the ground.

XVII “‘Arm, arm,’ they cried; Prince Sweno at the same, Glistering in shining steel leaped foremost out, His visage shone, his noble looks did flame, With kindled brand of courage bold and stout, When lo, the Pagans to assault us came, And with huge numbers hemmed us round about, A forest thick of spears about us grew, And over us a cloud of arrows flew: