Part 9

XXIV Not once the baron lifts his armed hand To strike the maid, but gazing on her eyes, Where lordly Cupid seemed in arms to stand, No way to ward or shun her blows he tries; But softly says, “No stroke of thy strong hand Can vanquish Tancred, but thy conquest lies In those fair eyes, which fiery weapons dart, That find no lighting place except this heart.”

XXV At last resolved, although he hoped small grace, Yet ere he did to tell how much he loved, For pleasing words in women’s ears find place, And gentle hearts with humble suits are moved: “O thou,” quoth he, “withhold thy wrath a space, For if thou long to see my valor proved, Were it not better from this warlike rout Withdrawn, somewhere, alone to fight it out?

XXVI “So singled, may we both our courage try:” Clorinda to that motion yielded glad, And helmless to the forestward gan hie, Whither the prince right pensive wend and sad, And there the virgin gan him soon defy. One blow she strucken, and he warded had, When he cried, “Hold, and ere we prove our might, First hear thou some conditions of the fight.”

XXVII She stayed, and desperate love had made him bold; “Since from the fight thou wilt no respite give, The covenants be,” he said, “that thou unfold This wretched bosom, and my heart out rive, Given thee long since, and if thou, cruel, would I should be dead, let me no longer live, But pierce this breast, that all the world may say, The eagle made the turtle-dove her prey.

XXVIII “Save with thy grace, or let thine anger kill, Love hath disarmed my life of all defence; An easy labor harmless blood to spill, Strike then, and punish where is none offence.” This said the prince, and more perchance had will To have declared, to move her cruel sense. But in ill time of Pagans thither came A troop, and Christians that pursued the same.

XXIX The Pagans fled before their valiant foes, For dread or craft, it skills not that we know, A soldier wild, careless to win or lose, Saw where her locks about the damsel flew, And at her back he proffereth as he goes To strike where her he did disarmed view: But Tancred cried, “Oh stay thy cursed hand,” And for to ward the blow lift up his brand.

XXX But yet the cutting steel arrived there, Where her fair neck adjoined her noble head, Light was the wound, but through her amber hair The purple drops down railed bloody red, So rubies set in flaming gold appear: But Lord Tancredi, pale with rage as lead, Flew on the villain, who to flight him bound; The smart was his, though she received the wound.

XXXI The villain flies, he, full of rage and ire, Pursues, she stood and wondered on them both, But yet to follow them showed no desire, To stray so far she would perchance be loth, But quickly turned her, fierce as flaming fire, And on her foes wreaked her anger wroth, On every side she kills them down amain, And now she flies, and now she turns again.

XXXII As the swift ure by Volga’s rolling flood Chased through the plains the mastiff curs toforn, Flies to the succor of some neighbor wood, And often turns again his dreadful horn Against the dogs imbrued in sweat and blood, That bite not, till the beast to flight return; Or as the Moors at their strange tennice run, Defenced, the flying balls unhurt to shun:

XXXIII So ran Clorinda, so her foes pursued, Until they both approached the city’s wall, When lo! the Pagans their fierce wrath renewed, Cast in a ring about they wheeled all, And ’gainst the Christians’ backs and sides they showed Their courage fierce, and to new combat fall, When down the hill Argantes came to fight, Like angry Mars to aid the Trojan knight.

XXXIV Furious, tofore the foremost of his rank, In sturdy steel forth stept the warrior bold, The first he smote down from his saddle sank, The next under his steel lay on the mould, Under the Saracen’s spear the worthies shrank, No breastplate could that cursed tree outhold, When that was broke his precious sword he drew, And whom he hit, he felled, hurt, or slew.

XXXV Clorinda slew Ardelio; aged knight, Whose graver years would for no labor yield, His age was full of puissance and might Two sons he had to guard his noble eild, The first, far from his father’s care and sight, Called Alicandro wounded lay in field, And Poliphern the younger, by his side, Had he not nobly fought had surely died.

XXXVI Tancred by this, that strove to overtake The villain that had hurt his only dear, From vain pursuit at last returned back, And his brave troop discomfit saw well near, Thither he spurred, and gan huge slaughter make, His shock no steed, his blow no knight could bear, For dead he strikes him whom he lights upon, So thunders break high trees on Lebanon.

XXXVII Dudon his squadron of adventurers brings, To aid the worthy and his tired crew, Before the residue young Rinaldo flings As swift as fiery lightning kindled new, His argent eagle with her silver wings In field of azure, fair Erminia knew, “See there, sir King,” she says, “a knight as bold And brave, as was the son of Peleus old.

XXXVIII “He wins the prize in joust and tournament, His acts are numberless, though few his years, If Europe six likes him to war had sent Among these thousand strong of Christian peers, Syria were lost, lost were the Orient, And all the lands the Southern Ocean wears, Conquered were all hot Afric’s tawny kings, And all that dwells by Nilus’ unknown springs.

XXXIX “Rinaldo is his name, his armed fist Breaks down stone walls, when rams and engines fail, But turn your eyes because I would you wist What lord that is in green and golden mail, Dudon he hight who guideth as him list The adventurers’ troop whose prowess seld doth fail, High birth, grave years, and practise long in war, And fearless heart, make him renowned far.

XL “See that big man that all in brown is bound, Gernando called, the King of Norway’s son, A prouder knight treads not on grass or ground, His pride hath lost the praise his prowess won; And that kind pair in white all armed round, Is Edward and Gildippes, who begun Through love the hazard of fierce war to prove, Famous for arms, but famous more for love.”

XLI While thus they tell their foemen’s worthiness, The slaughter rageth in the plain at large. Tancred and young Rinaldo break the press, They bruise the helm, and press the sevenfold targe; The troop by Dudon led performed no less, But in they come and give a furious charge: Argantes’ self fell at one single blow, Inglorious, bleeding lay, on earth full low:

XLII Nor had the boaster ever risen more, But that Rinaldo’s horse e’en then down fell, And with the fall his leg opprest so sore, That for a space there must be algates dwell. Meanwhile the Pagan troops were nigh forlore, Swiftly they fled, glad they escaped so well, Argantes and with him Clorinda stout, For bank and bulwark served to save the rout.

XLIII These fled the last, and with their force sustained The Christians’ rage, that followed them so near; Their scattered troops to safety well they trained, And while the residue fled, the brunt these bear; Dudon pursued the victory he gained, And on Tigranes nobly broke his spear, Then with his sword headless to ground him cast, So gardeners branches lop that spring too fast.

XLIV Algazar’s breastplate, of fine temper made, Nor Corban’s helmet, forged by magic art, Could save their owners, for Lord Dudon’s blade Cleft Corban’s head, and pierced Algazar’s heart, And their proud souls down to the infernal shade, From Amurath and Mahomet depart; Not strong Argantes thought his life was sure, He could not safely fly, nor fight secure.

XLV The angry Pagan bit his lips for teen, He ran, he stayed, he fled, he turned again, Until at last unmarked, unviewed, unseen, When Dudon had Almansor newly slain, Within his side he sheathed his weapon keen, Down fell the worthy on the dusty plain, And lifted up his feeble eyes uneath, Opprest with leaden sleep, of iron death.

XLVI Three times he strove to view Heaven’s golden ray, And raised him on his feeble elbow thrice, And thrice he tumbled on the lowly lay, And three times closed again his dying eyes, He speaks no word, yet makes his signs to pray; He sighs, he faints, he groans, and then he dies; Argantes proud to spoil the corpse disdained, But shook his sword with blood of Dudon stained.

XLVII And turning to the Christian knights, he cried: “Lordlings, behold, this bloody reeking blade Last night was given me by your noble guide, Tell him what proof thereof this day is made, Needs must this please him well that is betide, That I so well can use this martial trade, To whom so rare a gift he did present, Tell him the workman fits the instrument.

XLVIII “If further proof thereof he long to see, Say it still thirsts, and would his heart-blood drink; And if he haste not to encounter me, Say I will find him when he least doth think.” The Christians at his words enraged be, But he to shun their ire doth safely shrink Under the shelter of the neighbor wall, Well guarded with his troops and soldiers all.

XLIX Like storms of hail the stones fell down from high, Cast from their bulwarks, flankers, ports and towers, The shafts and quarries from their engines fly, As thick as falling drops in April showers: The French withdrew, they list not press too nigh, The Saracens escaped all the powers, But now Rinaldo from the earth upleapt, Where by the leg his steed had long him kept; L He came and breathed vengeance from his breast ’Gainst him that noble Dudon late had slain; And being come thus spoke he to the rest, “Warriors, why stand you gazing here in vain? Pale death our valiant leader had opprest, Come wreak his loss, whom bootless you complain. Those walls are weak, they keep but cowards out No rampier can withstand a courage stout.

LI “Of double iron, brass or adamant, Or if this wall were built of flaming fire, Yet should the Pagan vile a fortress want To shroud his coward head safe from mine ire; Come follow then, and bid base fear avaunt, The harder work deserves the greater hire;” And with that word close to the walls he starts, Nor fears he arrows, quarries, stones or darts.

LII Above the waves as Neptune lift his eyes To chide the winds, that Trojan ships opprest, And with his countenance calmed seas, winds and skies; So looked Rinaldo, when he shook his crest Before those walls, each Pagan fears and flies His dreadful sight, or trembling stayed at least: Such dread his awful visage on them cast. So seem poor doves at goshawks’ sight aghast.