Jerusalem Delivered
Page 77
Furious, he stamps, and to embittered fight
His bellowing rivals from afar provokes;
LVI.
Moved by such fury, the Circassian knight
A herald called, whom curtly he addressed:
‘Speed to the camp, and unto mortal fight
The presence of Christ’s champion knight request.’
Waiting for none, he vaulted on his horse,
And made them lead the captive Frank ahead;
Then sallied from the town, nor checked his course,
But down the hill precipitantly sped.
LVII.
Meanwhile he blew his horn, whose brazen sound
Most dreadful discord through the mountains made,
And, like the peals of thunder rattling round,
All ears offended and all hearts dismayed.
Whence the Frank princes, through the camp dispersed,
Flew to the Imperial tent; the herald there
His challenge gave, and named Tancredi first,
Yet none excluded who the risk would dare.
LVIII.
At that Prince Godfred, hanging in suspense,
Around him gazed with slow enquiring eyes;
Nor, though he thought and looked with diligence,
Appeared one fit for such an enterprise.
The flower was absent of his chivalry;
None of Tancredi any tidings knew;
Afar was Boemond, and self-exiled, he,
The unconquered hero, that Gernando slew.
LIX.
Besides the ten that had been drawn by lot,
Each stoutest, bravest, and most famous knight
Had ‘neath the guidance of Armida got,
Hid by the silence and the shades of night.
The rest, of hand less bold of heart more weak,
Fixed on the ground their eyes, abashed and dumb,
Nor thro’ such risk would one that honour seek;
Their very shame by terror was o’ercome.
LX.
The silence, look and attitude of those
Soon caused Prince Godfred to perceive their dread;
Whence, filled with zeal magnanimous, he rose
From where he sat all suddenly, and said:
‘Ah, most unworthy of this life were I
Now to withhold it; and how deep the shame
To let a Pagan with impunity
Thus trample on the honour of our name.
LXI.
‘Let my camp sit at ease, and thence, secure
From every risk itself, my risks descry.
Bring me my arms — quick, quick! His armature
Was brought him in the twinkling of an eye;
But loyal Raymond, who, mature in years,
Mature was likewise in advice and lore,
Whose vigour matched the youngest cavalier’s,
Threw himself straight the pious chief before.
LXII.
‘No, no, my liege,’ he cried; ‘we can’t allow
That the whole camp be jeopardised in thee.
Not simple soldier, but the chief, art thou;
Public, not private, then the loss would be.
On thee our empire and our faith depend;
Destroyed by thee shall be proud Babel’s throne;
Let others boldly with the sword contend,
Fight thou by counsel and command alone.
LXIII.
‘But though old age condemns me to go bent,
It never shall be said that I refuse.
Let others shun war’s stern experiment,
My years shall not my backwardness excuse.
Oh, were I in the prime of life, like ye
That trembling stand aloof, false cavaliers,
Unmoved by shame or animosity
‘Gainst him who hurls such insults in your ears!
LXIV.
‘Would I were what I was when in the view
Of all Germania, at great Conrad’s court,
His breast transfixing, Leopold I slew;
My vigorous frame then needed no support:
And was my prowess more distinctly shown
In bringing back the spoils of such a knight,
Than if one now, unarmed and all alone,
Put hosts of you ignoble hordes to flight?
LXV.
‘Could youthful blood once more such strength impart,
I had already slain you cavalier;
Such as I am, however, my stout heart
Within me droops not — old, I feel no fear;
And should I fall upon the battle-field,
Victory, be sure, will cost the Pagan dear.
Arm, arm I will, perhaps this day to gild
With further honour still my past career.’
LXVI.
Thus spake the sage. Like spurs, his words restore
The dormant valour of both old and young,
And those who timorous were and mute before,
Are now most glib and daring with the tongue.
Each now demands the combat for himself,
Nor are there any show the slightest fear:
It Baldwin craves, and with Ruggiero, Guelph,
The brothers Guido, Stephen, and Gemier;
LXVII.
And Pyrrhus, who the lauded stratagem made
In giving Antioch to Boëmond;
The same wish too most eagerly displayed
Everard, Ridolpho, and brave Rosamond,
One Scotch, one Irish, and one English, lands
That from our world are parted by the sea;
Gildippe and Edward make the same demands,
Spouses that still uxorious lovers be.
LXVIII.
But the old count far more than any sought
The danger and the glory of the task;
Armed he already was, nor wanted aught
To his complete equipment, save his casque.
To whom, ‘O living mirror,’ Godfred said,
‘Of antique worth, may all beholding thee
Catch the reflection which thy virtues shed,
Thou soul of honour and bright chivalry.
LXIX.
‘O that I had ten other souls indued,
Among our youth, with gallantry like thine;
Ne’er would I rest till Babel were subdued,
And spread from pole to pole the Cross divine.
But yield, I pray thee, and reserve in turn
Thyself for deeds more fitting age, nor grudge
That the others cast their names into an urn,
And from among them all let Fortune judge.
LXX.
‘Nay, God be judge, the servants of whose will
Are Fate and Fortune,’ the good prince exclaimed,
But could not change Raimondo’s thoughts; he still
Wished with the other champions to be named.
The lots then Godfred in his helmet threw;
And when well mixed and shaken were the same,
In the first number that from it he drew,
Was read the noble Count Toulouse’s name.
LXXI.
His name was welcomed with applausive cries,
Nor any ventured Fortune’s choice to blame;
Fresh vigour seemed to sparkle in his eyes,
And he as lithe and juvenile became
As when in summer garb a serpent drest
Glistens with gold and shimmers in the sun.
The captain cheered him more than all the rest,
And augured victory as already won.
LXXII.
And his own sabre taking from his flank,
Gave it, and thus the gallant count addressed:
‘This is the sabre which the rebel Frank,
Rodolph of Saxony, of yore possessed;
From him I took it, and took with it too
His life, by crimes innumerable stained.
Take it, and may it in thy hands ren
ew
The laurels that in mine it has obtained.’
LXXIII.
Meanwhile, impatient at their long delay,
The truculent Turk with threatening gesture cries:
‘Oh, unmatched people, Europe’s brave array,
Behold one man your mighty host defies:
Let Tancred come, who seemed so fierce of late,
If he have such reliance as before;
Or, couched on downy pillows, doth he wait
For night to aid him, as it did of yore?
LXXIV.
‘But if he fear, let others come. Come all,
Come horse and foot in one united band,
Since’mid your hosts none answers to my call,
Or dares to meet me singly hand to hand.
Ye see the tomb where Mary’s Son once lay?
Why not advance there, and your vows record.
Why, cowards, pause? ye see where lies the way,
Or do you keep for greater need your sword?’
LXXV.
The brutal Saracen with such-like taunts
The Christians did as with a scourge inflame;
But most of all beneath his braggart vaunts
Raimondo writhed, nor could endure the shame.
His valour, goaded, still more fierce became,
And gained on wrath’s rough whetstone greater force;
Sudden he sprang on Aquiline, whose name
Was given from speed unrivalled in the course.
LXXVI.
Born by the Tagus was his destrier, where
At times the mothers of the warrior drove
(When spring’s soft season instigates the mare
With natural instinct and desire of love),
Run open-mouthed against the teeming air,
Which its prolific seeds doth introduce;
And by warm breath impregned (O marvel rare!)
Conceive the greedy mothers, and produce.
LXXVII.
And of a truth this Aquiline, you’d say,
Was worthy offspring of his sire the wind,
Or if you saw him lightly bound away
Across the sand, nor leave a trace behind,
Or curvet trippingly from left to right
In mazy circles of the narrowest space.
Mounted on such a steed, the noble knight
Dashed to the assault, and heavenwards turned his face:
LXXVIII.
‘O God! that erst directedst arms unskilled
In Terebintus ‘gainst Goliah, so
That Judah’s scourge was by a stripling killed,
And the first pebble laid the giant low,
Grant that I make a like example too.
Thy aid to slay this felon, I implore;
May feeble age now arrogance subdue,
As feeble youth accomplished it of yore.’
LXXIX.
Thus prayed the pious count: his prayers sincere,
Moved by firm hope in Jesu, upwards rise,
Winging their flight to the celestial sphere,
As fire ascends by nature to the skies;
The Eternal Father heard, and from the band
Of His supernal hosts an angel chose
Him to protect from the impious Pagan’s hand,
And bring him safe in triumph from his foes.
LXXX.
The angel who, by the Divine decree,
Was chosen Raymond’s guardian, at his birth —
Aye, from the hour in which, an infant, he
Began his fatal pilgrimage on earth —
Now that heaven’s King commanded him anew
To undertake the charge of his defence,
With outspread pinions to the fortress flew
Where stored are all heaven’s warlike implements.
LXXXI.
Here is preserved the lance by which, of yore,
The serpent fell; the thundering bolts are here,
And shafts, themselves invisible, that pour
Plagues, pests, and famine on this lower sphere;
Here hangs the trident whose terrific shocks
With dire affright earth’s habitants confound,
When the foundations of the world it rocks,
And levels proudest cities with the ground.
LXXXII.
Sparkling amid the other arms is seen
A diamond shield, of size so marvellous
That it can cover all the lands between
The distant Atlas and the Caucasus;
Beneath the shelter of its aegis lie
Chaste, holy cities — princes just and good;
This the angel took, and with it secretly
Approached the spot where his Raimondo stood.
LXXXIII.
By a mixed crowd meanwhile the walls were filled;
When the fell tyrant bold Clorinda sent,
With a strong escort of his troops most skilled,
Who halted half-way down, nor farther went;
To the same end some Christian squadrons reined
Their destriers up upon the other side;
Thus a large space ‘twixt either camp remained
For the two combatants, unoccupied.
LXXXIV.
Arganté stared, not seeing Tancredi there,
the strange features of an unknown knight;
When the count forward strode and said: ‘Elsewhere,
Haply for you, is he you seek in fight.
Yet not exult therefore; you see one here
Prepared your proofs of valour to disprove,
And represent the absent cavalier,
Or on his own account take up your glove,’
LXXXV.
Smiling, the braggart scornfully replied:
‘What doth Tancredi? Where is his retreat?
He threatens Heaven with arms, and yet doth hide,
For safety trusting to his nimble feet;
But let him to earths — oceans centre flee,
No spot shall screen him from my vengeance due,’
‘You lie,’ replied the count, ‘to say that he
Flees, who is worth a thousand such as you,’
LXXXVI.
At this outroared the furious Saracen:
‘Take you the field then, and his place supply,
And quickly we shall see how you maintain
The bold bravado of those words, “You lie!”’
Thus to the tilt they spurred — their blood inflamed,
Each aiming at the other’s helm; and tho’
Raimondo struck the Pagan where he aimed,
He scarcely moved him in his saddle-bow.
LXXXVII.
On the other hand, Arganté was descried
Vainly (rare case with him) to use his spear,
Since the good angel turned the stroke aside
From the protected Christian cavalier.
His teeth with fury the foiled savage gnashed,
His spear he cursed and shivered on the plain,
Then drew his sword, and at Raimondo dashed
A second time with all his might and main,
LXXXVIII.
And pressed his steed straightforward, in despite,
As when a ram bows down his head to butt;
But Raymond shunned his charge, and to the right
Wheeled, and delivered on his front a cut.
The Egyptian cavalier turned round again,
To the right again the wary Christian sprung,
And caught him on his helm — but all in vain,
Upon the adamant his sabre rung.
LXXXIX.
But, to close quarters covetous to come,
The Pagan tried to rush in on his foe,
Who fearing he must to such weight succumb,
And both his own and destrier’s overthrow,
Gives way — attacks — then scours across the plain,
Twisting and turning from his hot pursuit;
The slightest, gentlest pressure of the rein
His quick steed follows with unerring foot,
XC.
As captain who some lofty tower invests,
‘Mid marshes placed, or on a beetling mount,
Tries countless openings, nor contented rests
With these or those — so wandered round the count;
And since he could not pierce the well-wrought scales
That armed the Saracen from head to heel,
The weaker parts and joinings he assails,
An entrance seeking ‘twixt the plates of steel.
XCI.
His foeman’s arms he had already hacked,
And blood oozed forth thro’ many a gaping rent;
But still the count preserved his own intact,
Nor lost a single plume or ornament
Into fresh rage Arganté vainly broke,
Vainly he smote and wasted strength and ire,
Yet grew not tired, but doubled every stroke,
And seemed fresh force from failure to acquire.
XCII.
And ‘mid unnumbered blows, the Saracen
At last struck one when Raymond was so near,
That able scarce had been fleet Aquiline
To save his lord, who must have fallen; but here
The angel failed not succour to afford,
Who hovered close, from mortal eye concealed;
With outstretched arm, he caught his cruel sword
Upon the diamond of the heavenly shield.
XCIII.
The sword snapped short — no earthly tempered steel,
Forged by the arm of mortal, could withstand
The arms, unmixed and incorruptible,
Of heavenly smith — and fell upon the sand.
Arganté scarce, though seeing on the ground
The splintered fragments, could believe his sight,
And marvelled, as unarmed himself he found,
To know what armour armed the Christian knight.
XCIV.
Truly he deemed his sword was broken by
The massive buckler of that doughty chief;
Not knowing who descended from the sky,
The gallant Raymond had the same belief,
Who, when he saw his foe disarmed, awhile
Paused in suspense, and from the fight refrained,
Deeming those worthless palms and laurels vile
At such advantage from another gained.
XCV.
‘Take’ — he was going to say— ‘another sword,’
When other thoughts sprang up and made him pause,
Since by defeat disgrace would be incurred,
He being the champion of a public cause;
Thus, though vile palms he scorned, he would not place
In risk their common honour. As he hung
Divided by these thoughts, against his face
The hilt and pommel base Arganté flung.
XCVI.
And at the same time pricked his destrier,
And tried his foe to gripe in close embrace;