As waked from sleep, where he had dreamed long,
“Oh stay,” he cried, “to me belongs this war!”
But cried too late, Otho was gone too far.
XXX.
Not half so swift the tiger or fierce pard
Scours through the forest, as Prince Otho pressed
To strike the Saracen, who, on his guard,
Had to receive him placed his lance in rest.
This roused Tancredi, who till now supine,
Engrossed — abstracted, woke as from a trance,
Exclaiming loudly: ‘Stay, the combat’s mine!’
But all too far was Otho in advance.
XXXI.
Onde si ferma, e d’ira e di dispetto
Avvampa dentro, e fuor qual fiamma è rosso;
Perch’ad onta si reca, ed a difetto,
244 Ch’altri si sia primiero in giostra mosso.
Ma intanto a mezzo il corso in su l’elmetto
Dal giovin forte è il Saracin percosso.
Egli all’incontro a lui col ferro nudo
248 Fende l’usbergo, e pria rompe lo scudo.
XXXI
Then full of fury, anger and despite,
He stayed his horse, and waxed red for shame,
The fight was his, but now disgraced quite
Himself he thought, another played his game;
Meanwhile the Saracen did hugely smite
On Otho’s helm, who to requite the same,
His foe quite through his sevenfold targe did bear,
And in his breastplate stuck and broke his spear.
XXXI.
Whence halted he, live coals appeared his face,
And his proud heart with ire and shame to burst,
Deeming it vile defection and disgrace
That in the encounter he was not the first.
Meanwhile, the youth had struck in mid career
Arganté’s helm, when spurring to the charge.
He, with a counter-stroke of his sharp spear,
Clove through his hauberk, having pierced his targe.
XXXII.
Cade il Cristiano; e ben è il colpo acerbo,
Posciach’avvien che dall’arcion lo svella.
Ma il Pagan di più forza, e di più nerbo
252 Non cade già, nè pur si torce in sella.
Indi con dispettoso atto superbo
Sovra il caduto cavalier favella:
Renditi vinto, e per tua gloria basti
256 Che dir potrai, che contra me pugnasti.
XXXII
The encounter such, upon the tender grass,
Down from his steed the Christian backward fell;
Yet his proud foe so strong and sturdy was,
That he nor shook, nor staggered in his sell,
But to the knight that lay full low, alas,
In high disdain his will thus gan he tell,
“Yield thee my slave, and this thine honor be,
Thou may’st report thou hast encountered me.”
XXXII.
The Christian fell. Tremendous was the shock
That sent him flying from the saddle bow.
But the huge Pagan, like some firm-set rock,
Fell not, nor even reeled beneath the blow,
Deriding him despitefully who lay
Prone at his feet: ‘Yield, slave, and let it be
Sufficient for thy future fame to say
That you did once, rash boy, contend with me.’
XXXIII.
No, gli risponde Otton, fra noi non s’usa
Così tosto depor l’arme, e l’ardire.
Altri del mio cader farà la scusa;
260 Io vuò far la vendetta, o quì morire.
In sembianza d’Aletto, e di Medusa
Freme il Circasso, e par che fiamma spire.
Conosci or, dice, il mio valore a prova,
264 Poichè la cortesia sprezzar ti giova.
XXXIII
“Not so,” quoth he, “pardy it’s not the guise
Of Christian knights, though fall’n, so soon to yield;
I can my fall excuse in better wise,
And will revenge this shame, or die in field.”
The great Circassian bent his frowning eyes,
Like that grim visage in Minerva’s shield,
“Then learn,” quoth he, “what force Argantes useth
Against that fool that proffered grace refuseth.”
XXXIII.
‘No,’ replied Otho, ‘let what will befall,
Never yield up my arms or trust will I;
Let others make excuses for my fall,
I will avenge it, or I here will die.’
At this with ire Arganté grew inflamed,
The sister Furies sparkled in his eyes;
‘Learn then by proof my valour,’ he exclaimed,
‘Since thus my courteous offer you despise.’
XXXIV.
Spinge il destrier in questo, e tutto oblia
Quanto virtù cavalleresca chiede.
Fugge il Franco l’incontro, e si desvia,
268 E ‘l destro fianco nel passar gli fiede:
Ed è sì grave la percossa e ria,
Che ‘l ferro sanguinoso indi ne riede.
Ma che pro, se la piaga al vincitore
272 Forza non toglie, e giunge ira e furore?
XXXIV
With that he spurred his horse with speed and haste,
Forgetting what good knights to virtue owe,
Otho his fury shunned, and, as he passed,
At his right side he reached a noble blow,
Wide was the wound, the blood outstreamed fast,
And from his side fell to his stirrup low:
But what avails to hurt, if wounds augment
Our foe’s fierce courage, strength and hardiment?
XXXIV.
Arganté spurred his destrier as he spoke,
Forgetting laws of chivalry. Aside
Prince Otho sprang, evading him, and struck
The brawny Turk, when passing, in the side.
So heavy, so impetuous was the stroke,
That the steel issued bathed in crimson gore:
But to what good, if it fresh fury woke,
And left the victor puissant as before?
XXXV.
Argante il corridor dal corso affrena,
E indietro il volge; e così tosto è volto,
Che se n’accorge il suo nemico appena,
276 E d’un grand’urto all’improviso è colto.
Tremar le gambe, indebolir la lena,
Sbigottir l’alma, e impallidire il volto
Gli fè l’aspra percossa; e frale e stanco
280 Sovra il duro terren battere il fianco.
XXXV
Argantes nimbly turned his ready steed,
And ere his foe was wist or well aware,
Against his side he drove his courser’s head,
What force could he gainst so great might prepare?
Weak were his feeble joints, his courage dead,
His heart amazed, his paleness showed his care,
His tender side gainst the hard earth he cast,
Shamed, with the first fall; bruised, with the last.
XXXV.
His steed Arganté curbed, and turned him back;
But with such lightning speed, that ere his foe
Could guard himself against the fresh attack,
He by the great collision was laid low.
Trembled his limbs, faint, short his breath became,
His features paled, his languid eyes swam round;
Tremendous was the shock, with which his frame,
Faint and exhausted, struck the unyielding ground.
XXXVI.
Nell’ira Argante infellonisce, e strada
Sovra il petto del vinto al destrier face.
E così, grida, ogni superbo vada
284 Come costui che sotto i piè mi giace.
Ma l’invitto Tancredi allor non bada;
Chè l’atto crudelissimo gli spiace:
E vuol che ‘l suo valor con chiara emenda
288 Copra il suo fallo, e, come suol, risplenda.
XXXVI
The victor spurred again his light-foot steed,
And made his passage over Otho’s heart,
And cried, “These fools thus under foot I tread,
That dare contend with me in equal mart.”
Tancred for anger shook his noble head,
So was he grieved with that unknightly part;
The fault was his, he was so slow before,
With double valor would he salve that sore.
XXXVI.
Enfeloned in his ire, Arganté made
His destrier trample on his breast: ‘’Tis meet
That thus the insolent are served,’ he said,
‘Like him who now lies prostrate at my feet,’
But generous Tancred could refrain no more,
And shocked at that unmerciful assault.
Resolved his valour, as it shone before,
Should shine and make atonement for his fault.
XXXVII.
Fassi innanzi gridando: anima vile,
Che ancor nelle vittorie infame sei:
Qual titolo di laude alto, e gentile
292 Da modi attendi sì scortesi e rei?
Fra i ladroni d’Arabia, o fra simíle
Barbara turba avezzo esser tu dei.
Fuggi la luce, e và con l’altre belve
296 A incrudelir ne’ monti, e tra le selve.
XXXVII
Forward he galloped fast, and loudly cried:
“Villain,” quoth he, “thy conquest is thy shame,
What praise? what honor shall this fact betide?
What gain? what guerdon shall befall the same?
Among the Arabian thieves thy face go hide,
Far from resort of men of worth and fame,
Or else in woods and mountains wild, by night,
On savage beasts employ thy savage might.”
XXXVII.
‘Forward he dashed, exclaiming: ‘Soul abject,
That in your victories ev’n are infamous,
What title to renown do you expect
From act so bloody and so barbarous?
Your nature best with Arab ruffians suits,
And other savages of like degree;
Go, daylight shun, and with your fellow brutes
In wastes and wilds indulge your cruelty.’
XXXVIII.
Tacque: e ‘l Pagano al sofferir poco uso
Morde le labbra, e di furor si strugge.
Risponder vuol, ma ‘l suono esce confuso,
300 Siccome strido d’animal che rugge:
O come apre le nubi, ond’egli è chiuso,
Impetuoso il fulmine, e se ‘n fugge;
Così pareva a forza ogni suo detto,
304 Tuonando, uscir dall’infiammato petto.
XXXVIII
The Pagan patience never knew, nor used,
Trembling for ire, his sandy locks he tore,
Out from his lips flew such a sound confused,
As lions make in deserts thick, which roar;
Or as when clouds together crushed and bruised,
Pour down a tempest by the Caspian shore;
So was his speech imperfect, stopped, and broken,
He roared and thundered when he should have spoken.
XXXVIII.
The Pagan, little to endurance used,
Bit both his lips, consumed with rage and gall,
And tried to speak, but only sounds confused
Escaped, like cry of some wild animal; —
And as from cloud, in which it was immured,
Thunder bursts forth and passes, so expressed
Was the gruff growl of each half muttered word
That rumbled forth from his infuriate breast.
XXXIX.
Ma poi che in ambo il minacciar feroce
A vicenda irritò l’orgoglio e l’ira;
L’un come l’altro rapido e veloce,
308 Spazio al corso prendendo, il destrier gira.
Or quì, Musa, rinforza in me la voce,
E furor pari a quel furor m’inspira:
Sì, che non sian dell’opre indegni i carmi,
312 Ed esprima il mio canto il suon dell’armi.
XXXIX
But when with threats they both had whetted keen
Their eager rage, their fury, spite and ire,
They turned their steeds and left large space between
To make their forces greater, ‘proaching nigher,
With terms that warlike and that worthy been:
O sacred Muse, my haughty thoughts inspire,
And make a trumpet of my slender quill
To thunder out this furious combat shrill.
XXXIX.
But when rude menace and insulting speech
Their pride had whetted and their anger steeled,
With like rapidity and vigour, each
Ground taking for a charge, his charger wheeled.
But here, O muse, refresh my voice; inspire
Me with like force to theirs, that through thy charms
My song may not unworthily aspire,
But nobly echo back the clash of arms.
XL.
Posero in resta, e dirizzaro in alto
I due guerrier le noderose antenne:
Nè fu di corso mai, nè fu di salto,
316 Nè fu mai tal velocità di penne,
Nè furia eguale a quella, ond’all’assalto
Quinci Tancredi, e quindi Argante venne.
Rupper l’aste su gli elmi, e volar mille
320 Tronconi e schegge, e lucide faville.
XL
These sons of Mavors bore, instead of spears,
Two knotty masts, which none but they could lift,
Each foaming steed so fast his master bears,
That never beast, bird, shaft flew half so swift;
Such was their fury, as when Boreas tears
The shattered crags from Taurus’ northern clift,
Upon their helms their lances long they broke,
And up to heaven flew splinters, sparks and smoke.
XL.
In rest each warrior placed his knotty spear,
Its point directing upwards. Ne’er did spring
Of couchant tiger, nor the bound of deer,
Nor swoop of eagle on its swiftest wing,
Equal the speed with which Tancredi here,
And there Arganté, dashed to the assault;
Their lances shivered when in mid career,
Whence sparks and splinters flew to heaven’s blue vault.
XLI.
Sol de’ colpi il rimbombo intorno mosse
L’immobil terra, e risonarne i monti;
Ma l’impeto, e ‘l furor delle percosse
324 Nulla piegò delle superbe fronti.
L’uno e l’altro cavallo in guisa urtosse,
Che non fur poi, cadendo, a sorger pronti.
Tratte le spade, i gran mastri di guerra
328 Lasciar le staffe, e i piè fermaro in terra.
XLI
The shock made all the towers and turrets quake,
And woods and mountains all nigh hand resound;
Yet could not all that force and fury shake
The valiant champions, nor their persons wound;
Together hurtled both their steeds, and brake
Each other’s neck, the riders lay on ground:
But they, great masters of war’s dreadful art,
Plucked forth their swords and soon from earth up start.
XLI.
Shook the firm earth, the distant hills resounded,
From the loud thunder of their crashing blows,
Whose force and desperate impetus rebounded
Lightly from off their haught, unblenc
hing brows;
So charged their steeds, cheered by their rider’s tongue,
That falling down they could not rise up; whence
The accomplished soldiers from their saddles sprung,
Unsheathed their swords, and stood upon defence.
XLII.
Cautamente ciascuno ai colpi move
La destra, ai guardi l’occhio, ai passi il piede:
Si reca in atti varj, e’n guardie nove.
332 Or gira intorno, or cresce innanzi, or cede:
Or quì ferire accenna, e poscia altrove,
Dove non minacciò, ferir si vede:
Or di se discoprire alcuna parte,
336 E tentar di schernir l’arte con l’arte.
XLII
Close at his surest ward each warrior lieth,
He wisely guides his hand, his foot, his eye,
This blow he proveth, that defence he trieth,
He traverseth, retireth, presseth nigh,
Now strikes he out, and now he falsifieth,
This blow he wardeth, that he lets slip by,
And for advantage oft he lets some part
Discovered seem; thus art deludeth art.
XLII.
To the other’s look each warily moves his eye,
To blow his hand, to change of foot his feet.
Positions new, new guards, new feints they try;
Wheel back, press forward, and at times retreat.
Here feign a stroke and strike not, but elsewhere
Down falls the sword on some unmenaced part;
Now leave some point unguarded, as a snare
To lure the foe, art trying to baffle art
XLIII.
Della spada Tancredi, e dello scudo
Mal guardato al Pagan dimostra il fianco.
Corre egli per ferirlo, e intanto nudo
340 Di riparo si lascia il lato manco.
Tancredi con un colpo il ferro crudo
Del nemico ribatte, e lui fere anco:
Nè poi, ciò fatto, in ritirarsi tarda,
344 Ma si raccoglie, e si ristringe in guarda.
XLIII
The Pagan ill defenced with sword or targe,
Tancredi’s thigh, as he supposed, espied
And reaching forth gainst it his weapon large,
Quite naked to his foe leaves his left-side;
Tancred avoideth quick his furious charge,
And gave him eke a wound deep, sore and wide;
That done, himself safe to his ward retired,
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