Part 38

LVIII Upon the bulwarks now appeared bold That fearful band that late for dread was fled! The women that Clorinda’s strength behold, Their country’s love to war encouraged, They weapons got, and fight like men they would, Their gowns tucked up, their locks were loose and spread, Sharp darts they cast, and without dread or fear, Exposed their breasts to save their fortress dear.

LIX But that which most dismayed the Christian knights, And added courage to the Pagans most, Was Guelpho’s sudden fall in all men’s sights, Who tumbled headlong down, his footing lost, A mighty stone upon the worthy lights, But whence it came none wist, nor from what coast; And with like blow, which more their hearts dismayed, Beside him low in dust old Raymond laid:

LX And Eustace eke within the ditches large, To narrow shifts and last extremes they drive, Upon their foes so fierce the Pagans charge, And with good-fortune so their blows they give, That whom they hit, in spite of helm or targe, They deeply wound, or else of life deprive. At this their good success Argantes proud, Waxing more fell, thus roared and cried aloud:

LXI “This is not Antioch, nor the evening dark Can help your privy sleights with friendly shade, The sun yet shines, your falsehood can we mark, In other wise this bold assault is made; Of praise and glory quenched is the spark That made you first these eastern lands invade, Why cease you now? why take you not this fort? What! are you weary for a charge so short?”

LXII Thus raged he, and in such hellish sort Increased the fury in the brain-sick knight, That he esteemed that large and ample fort Too strait a field, wherein to prove his might, There where the breach had framed a new-made port, Himself he placed, with nimble skips and light, He cleared the passage out, and thus he cried To Solyman, that fought close by his side:

LXIII “Come, Solyman, the time and place behold, That of our valors well may judge the doubt, What sayest thou? amongst these Christians bold, First leap he forth that holds himself most stout:” While thus his will the mighty champion told, Both Solyman and he at once leaped out, Fury the first provoked, disdain the last, Who scorned the challenge ere his lips it passed.

LXIV Upon their foes unlooked-for they flew, Each spited other for his virtue’s sake, So many soldiers this fierce couple slew, So many shields they cleft and helms they break, So many ladders to the earth they threw, That well they seemed a mount thereof to make, Or else some vamure fit to save the town, Instead of that the Christians late beat down.

LXV The folk that strove with rage and haste before Who first the wall and rampire should ascend, Retire, and for that honor strive no more, Scantly they could their limbs and lives defend, They fled, their engines lost the Pagans tore In pieces small, their rams to naught they rend, And all unfit for further service make With so great force and rage their beams they brake.

LXVI The Pagans ran transported with their ire, Now here, now there, and woful slaughters wrought, At last they called for devouring fire, Two burning pines against the tower they brought, So from the palace of their hellish sire, When all this world they would consume to naught, The fury sisters come with fire in hands, Shaking their snaky locks and sparkling brands:

LXVII But noble Tancred, who this while applied Grave exhortations to his bold Latines, When of these knights the wondrous acts he spied, And saw the champions with their burning pines, He left his talk, and thither forthwith hied, To stop the rage of those fell Saracines. And with such force the fight he there renewed, That now they fled and lost who late pursued.

LXVIII Thus changed the state and fortune of the fray, Meanwhile the wounded duke, in grief and teen, Within his great pavilion rich and gay, Good Sigiere and Baldwin stood between; His other friends whom his mishap dismay, With grief and tears about assembled been: He strove in haste the weapon out to wind, And broke the reed, but left the head behind.

LXIX He bade them take the speediest way they might, Of that unlucky hurt to make him sound, And to lay ope the depth thereof to sight, He willed them open, search and lance the wound, “Send me again,” quoth he, “to end this fight, Before the sun be sunken under ground;” And leaning on a broken spear, he thrust His leg straight out, to him that cure it must.

LXX Erotimus, born on the banks of Po, Was he that undertook to cure the knight, All what green herbs or waters pure could do, He knew their power, their virtue, and their might, A noble poet was the man also, But in this science had a more delight, He could restore to health death-wounded men, And make their names immortal with his pen.

LXXI The mighty duke yet never changed cheer, But grieved to see his friends lamenting stand; The leech prepared his cloths and cleansing gear, And with a belt his gown about him band, Now with his herbs the steely head to tear Out of the flesh he proved, now with his hand, Now with his hand, now with his instrument He shaked and plucked it, yet not forth it went.

LXXII His labor vain, his art prevailed naught, His luck was ill, although his skill were good, To such extremes the wounded prince he brought, That with fell pain he swooned as he stood: But the angel pure, that kept him, went and sought Divine dictamnum, out of Ida wood, This herb is rough, and bears a purple flower, And in his budding leaves lies all his power.

LXXIII Kind nature first upon the craggy clift Bewrayed this herb unto the mountain goat, That when her sides a cruel shaft hath rift, With it she shakes the reed out of her coat; This in a moment fetched the angel swift, And brought from Ida hill, though far remote, The juice whereof in a prepared bath Unseen the blessed spirit poured hath.

LXXIV Pure nectar from that spring of Lydia than, And panaces divine therein he threw, The cunning leech to bathe the wound began, And of itself the steely head outflew; The bleeding stanched, no vermile drop outran, The leg again waxed strong with vigor new: Erotimus cried out, “This hurt and wound No human art or hand so soon makes sound:

LXXV “Some angel good I think come down from skies Thy surgeon is, for here plain tokens are Of grace divine which to thy help applies, Thy weapon take and haste again to war.” In precious cloths his leg the chieftain ties, Naught could the man from blood and fight debar; A sturdy lance in his right hand he braced, His shield he took, and on his helmet laced:

LXXVI And with a thousand knights and barons bold, Toward the town he hasted from his camp, In clouds of dust was Titan’s face enrolled, Trembled the earth whereon the worthies stamp, His foes far off his dreadful looks behold, Which in their hearts of courage quenched the lamp, A chilling fear ran cold through every vein, Lord Godfrey shouted thrice and all his train:

LXXVII Their sovereign’s voice his hardy people knew, And his loud cries that cheered each fearful heart; Thereat new strength they took and courage new, And to the fierce assault again they start. The Pagans twain this while themselves withdrew Within the breach to save that battered part, And with great loss a skirmish hot they hold Against Tancredi and his squadron bold.

LXXVIII Thither came Godfrey armed round about In trusty plate, with fierce and dreadful look; At first approach against Argantes stout Headed with poignant steel a lance he shook, No casting engine with such force throws out A knotty spear, and as the way it took, It whistled in the air, the fearless knight Opposed his shield against that weapon’s might.

LXXIX The dreadful blow quite through his target drove, And bored through his breastplate strong and thick, The tender skin it in his bosom rove, The purple-blood out-streamed from the quick; To wrest it out the wounded Pagan strove And little leisure gave it there to stick; At Godfrey’s head the lance again he cast, And said, “Lo, there again thy dart thou hast.”

LXXX The spear flew back the way it lately came, And would revenge the harm itself had done, But missed the mark whereat the man did aim, He stepped aside the furious blow to shun: But Sigiere in his throat received the same, The murdering weapon at his neck out-run, Nor aught it grieved the man to lose his breath, Since in his prince’s stead he suffered death.

LXXXI Even then the Soldan struck with monstrous main The noble leader of the Norman band, He reeled awhile and staggered with the pain, And wheeling round fell grovelling on the sand: Godfrey no longer could the grief sustain Of these displeasures, but with flaming brand, Up to the breach in heat and haste he goes, And hand to hand there combats with his foes;

LXXXII And there great wonders surely wrought he had, Mortal the fight, and fierce had been the fray, But that dark night, from her pavilion sad, Her cloudy wings did on the earth display, Her quiet shades she interposed glad To cause the knights their arms aside to lay; Godfrey withdrew, and to their tents they wend, And thus this bloody day was brought to end.

LXXXIII The weak and wounded ere he left the field, The godly duke to safety thence conveyed, Nor to his foes his engines would he yield, In them his hope to win the fortress laid; Then to the tower he went, and it beheeld, The tower that late the Pagan lords dismayed But now stood bruised, broken, cracked and shivered, From some sharp storm as it were late delivered.

LXXXIV From dangers great escaped, but late it was, And now to safety brought well-nigh it seems, But as a ship that under sail doth pass The roaring billows and the raging streams, And drawing nigh the wished port, alas, Breaks on some hidden rocks her ribs and beams; Or as a steed rough ways that well hath passed, Before his inn stumbleth and falls at last:

LXXXV Such hap befell that tower, for on that side Gainst which the Pagans’ force and battery bend, Two wheels were broke whereon the piece should ride, The maimed engine could no further wend, The troop that guarded it that part provide To underprop with posts, and it defend Till carpenters and cunning workmen came Whose skill should help and rear again the same.