His courage praised by all, his skill admired.
XLIII.
Protected ill by scimetar or targe,
Tancredi showed the Saracen his flank.
In rushed the Pagan, leaving in his charge,
His own left side uncovered; the quick Frank
Not only parried by a dexterous blow
The ruthless weapon, but retorted hard;
Nor, this accomplished, to retire was slow,
But backwards sprung and placed himself on guard.
XLIV.
Il fero Argante, che se stesso mira
Del proprio sangue suo macchiato e molle,
Con insolito orror freme, e sospira,
348 Di cruccio e di dolor, turbato e folle:
E portato dall’impeto e dall’ira,
Con la voce la spada insieme estolle:
E torna per ferire, ed è di punta
352 Piagato, ov’è la spalla al braccio giunta.
XLIV
The proud Circassian saw his streaming blood,
Down from his wound, as from a fountain, running,
He sighed for rage, and trembled as he stood,
He blamed his fortune, folly, want of cunning;
He lift his sword aloft, for ire nigh wood,
And forward rushed: Tancred his fury shunning,
With a sharp thrust once more the Pagan hit,
To his broad shoulder where his arm is knit.
XLIV.
But when the fierce Circassian knight beheld
His own wet blood his glittering armour stain,
Struck with unwonted horror he outyelled,
By shame distracted and half mad from pain;
Nor his infuriate impulse could restrain,
But with raised voice and sword, turned round to hit
The Christian knight, and wounded was again
Just where the arm is to the shoulder knit.
XLV.
Qual nelle alpestri selve orsa, che senta
Duro spiedo nel fianco, in rabbia monta:
E contra l’arme se medesma avventa,
356 E i periglj, e la morte audace affronta;
Tale il Circasso indomito diventa,
Giunta or piaga alla piaga, ed onta all’onta:
E la vendetta far tanto desia,
360 Che sprezza i rischj, e le difese oblia.
XLV
Like as a bear through pierced with a dart
Within the secret woods, no further flieth,
But bites the senseless weapon mad with smart,
Seeking revenge till unrevenged she dieth;
So mad Argantes fared, when his proud heart
Wound upon wound, and shame on shame espieth,
Desire of vengeance so o’ercame his senses,
That he forgot all dangers, all defences.
XLV.
As in some alpine wood a savage bear,
Who feels an arrow rankling in her side,
Infuriate, springs upon the hunter’s spear,
At perils and at death unterrified;
Such the impetuous Saracen became
As wound on wound and shame on shame augments;
While hopes for vengeance so his soul inflame,
He scorns all dangers and forgets defence.
XLVI.
E congiungendo a temerario ardire
Estrema forza, e infaticabil lena,
Vien che sì impetuoso il ferro gire,
364 Che ne trema la terra, e ‘l ciel balena:
Nè tempo ha l’altro ond’un sol colpo tire,
Onde si copra, onde respiri appena:
Nè schermo v’è ch’assicurare il possa
368 Dalla fretta d’Argante e dalla possa.
XLVI
Uniting force extreme, with endless wrath,
Supporting both with youth and strength untired,
His thundering blows so fast about he layeth,
That skies and earth the flying sparkles fired;
His foe to strike one blow no leisure hath,
Scantly he breathed, though he oft desired,
His warlike skill and cunning all was waste,
Such was Argantes’ force, and such his haste.
XLVI.
To reckless courage joining force immense,
And to untiring vigour rage unslaked,
His sword he brandished with such violence
That the heavens lightened and the mountains quaked.
Nor had himself Tancredi time to shield
Or scarcely breathe — much less to strike a blow,
Or shelter find that might protection yield
‘Gainst the hot haste and fury of his foe.
XLVII.
Tancredi, in se raccolto, attende invano
Che de’ gran colpi la tempesta passi.
Or v’oppon le difese, ed or lontano
372 Sen va co’ giri, e co’ maestri passi.
Ma poichè non s’allenta il fier Pagano,
È forza alfin che trasportar si lassi:
E cruccioso egli ancor con quanta puote
376 Violenza maggior la spada rote.
XLVII
Long time Tancredi had in vain attended
When this huge storm should overblow and pass,
Some blows his mighty target well defended,
Some fell beside, and wounded deep the grass;
But when he saw the tempest never ended,
Nor that the Paynim’s force aught weaker was,
He high advanced his cutting sword at length,
And rage to rage opposed, and strength to strength.
XLVII.
Collected in himself he waits in vain
Till the fierce tempest of his strokes subsides,
He parries now, now swiftly o’er the plain
In skilful circles to avoid him glides;
But since unceasing is the Pagan lord,
At length his passions carry him away;
Lashed into fury, he too whirls his sword
And doth the same mad violence display.
XLVIII.
Vinta dall’ira è la ragione e l’arte,
E le forze il furor ministra, e cresce.
Sempre che scende il ferro, o fora o parte,
380 O piastra, o maglia: e colpo invan non esce.
Sparsa è d’arme la terra, e l’arme sparte
Di sangue, e ‘l sangue col sudor si mesce.
Lampo nel fiammeggiar, nel romor tuono,
384 Fulmini nel ferir le spade sono.
XLVIII
Wrath bore the sway, both art and reason fail,
Fury new force, and courage new supplies,
Their armors forged were of metal frail,
On every side thereof, huge cantels flies,
The land was strewed all with plate and mail.
That, on the earth; on that, their warm blood lies.
And at each rush and every blow they smote
Thunder the noise, the sparks, seemed lightning hot.
XLVIII.
Judgment and skill by rage are overborne,
As frenzy fires and doth their force sustain.
Ne’er falls the sword but cloven through or torn
Is mail or corslet, steel ne’er strikes in vain;
Strown is the ground with arms, the arms with gore,
The gore with sweat: in that infuriate war
Lightning in flash, loud thunder in the roar,
Bolts in descent, their gleaming broad swords are.
XLIX.
Questo popolo e quello incerto pende
Da sì nuovo spettacolo ed atroce:
E fra tema, e speranza il fin n’attende,
388 Mirando or ciò che giova, or ciò che nuoce:
E non si vede pur, ne pur s’intende
Picciol cenno fra tanti, o bassa voce;
Ma se ne sta ciascun tacito e immoto,
392 Se non se inquanto ha il cor tremante in moto.
XLIX
The C
hristian people and the Pagans gazed,
On this fierce combat wishing oft the end,
Twixt hope and fear they stood long time amazed,
To see the knights assail, and eke defend,
Yet neither sign they made, nor noise they raised,
But for the issue of the fight attend,
And stood as still, as life and sense they wanted,
Save that their hearts within their bosoms panted.
XLIX.
In deep suspense the rival armies hung
On that most novel and appalling sight.
Now buoyed by hope, now by misgiving wrung,
They watched the changes of that desperate fight;
No sign was made, nor did the tongue express
The deep anxiety on either part,
But silent all remained and motionless:
The only motion was the beating heart.
L.
Già lassi erano entrambi, e giunti forse
Sarian, pugnando, ad immaturo fine;
Ma sì oscura la notte intanto sorse,
396 Che nascondea le cose anco vicine.
Quinci un araldo, e quindi un altro accorse
Per dipartirgli, e gli partiro al fine.
L’uno il Franco Arideo, Pindoro è l’altro,
400 Che portò la disfida, uom saggio e scaltro.
L
Now were they tired both, and well-nigh spent,
Their blows show greater will than power to wound;
But Night her gentle daughter Darkness, sent,
With friendly shade to overspread the ground,
Two heralds to the fighting champions went,
To part the fray, as laws of arms them bound
Aridens born in France, and wise Pindore,
The man that brought the challenge proud before.
L.
Both were exhausted now, and perhaps the foes
Had to untimely end, still battling, come,
But that so black the shades of night uprose
That things ev’n near were hidden in their gloom.
At this from either side a herald sought
To part them, which at length they did: the one
Arldos, the other Pindoro, who brought
The challenge, deemed a wise and prudent man.
LI.
I pacifici scettri osar costoro
Fra le spade interpor de’ combattenti,
Con quella sicurtà che porgea loro
404 L’antichissima legge delle genti.
Siete, o guerrieri, incominciò Pindoro,
Con pari onor di pari ambo possenti.
Dunque cessi la pugna, e non sian rotte
408 Le ragioni, e ‘l riposo della notte.
LI
These men their sceptres interpose, between
The doubtful hazards of uncertain fight;
For such their privilege hath ever been,
The law of nations doth defend their right;
Pindore began, “Stay, stay, you warriors keen,
Equal your honor, equal is your might;
Forbear this combat, so we deem it best,
Give night her due, and grant your persons rest.
LI.
They dared their peaceful sceptres interpose
Between the combatants’ infuriate swords
With that security, which ev’n ‘mid foes
The law of nations to their class affords.
‘Brave soldiers, ye,”twas thus the latter spake,
‘Have gained like fame and are of equal might;
Cease then the combat, nor unnatural, break
The calm repose and purpose of the night.
LII.
Tempo è da travagliar mentre il Sol dura;
Ma nella notte ogni animale ha pace:
E generoso cor non molto cura
412 Notturno pregio, che s’asconde e tace.
Risponde Argante: a me per ombra oscura
La mia battaglia abbandonar non piace:
Ben avrei caro il testimon del giorno;
416 Ma che giuri costui di far ritorno.
LII
“Man goeth forth to labor with the sun,
But with the night, all creatures draw to sleep,
Nor yet of hidden praise in darkness won
The valiant heart of noble knight takes keep:”
Argantes answered him, “The fight begun
Now to forbear, doth wound my heart right deep:
Yet will I stay, so that this Christian swear,
Before you both, again to meet me here.”
LII.
‘The time for travail is while shines the sun,
But all creation hath repose at night,
Nor do the noble value actions done
In the dark, dumb obscurity of night.’
Arganté answered him: ‘To quit the fray
Ill-pleased I am, even for these shades obscure;
I should prefer the evidence of day,
But will this Christian his return insure?’
LIII.
Soggiunse l’altro allora: e tu prometti
Di tornar, rimenando il tuo prigione;
Perch’altrimenti non fia mai ch’aspetti
420 Per la nostra contesa altra stagione.
Così giuraro: e poi gli araldi eletti
A prescriver il tempo alla tenzone,
Per dare spazio alle lor piaghe onesto,
424 Stabiliro il mattin del giorno sesto.
LIII
“I swear,” quoth Tancred, “but swear thou likewise
To make return thy prisoner eke with thee;
Else for achievement of this enterprise,
None other time but this expect of me;”
Thus swore they both; the heralds both devise,
What time for this exploit should fittest be:
And for their wounds of rest and cure had need,
To meet again the sixth day was decreed.
LIII.
‘Wilt thou, too, promise,’ Prince Tancredi cried,
‘Here to return and bring thy prisoner back?
As otherwise I can’t consent to bide
Another season to conclude the attack.’
Both swore; the heralds, who selected were
To appoint the time the contest to renew
(To give them time their forces to repair),
Fixed the sixth morning, and at once withdrew.
LIV.
Lasciò la pugna orribile, nel core
De’ Saracini e de’ Fedeli impressa
Un’alta maraviglia, ed un orrore
428 Che per lunga stagione in lor non cessa.
Sol dell’ardir si parla, e del valore
Che l’un guerriero e l’altro ha mostro in essa.
Ma qual si debba di lor due preporre,
432 Vario e discorde, il volgo in se discorre.
LIV
This fight was deep imprinted in their hearts
That saw this bloody fray to ending brought,
An horror great possessed their weaker parts,
Which made them shrink who on their combat thought:
Much speech was of the praise and high desarts
Of these brave champions that so nobly fought;
But which for knightly worth was most ypraised,
Of that was doubt and disputation raised.
LIV.
The frightful combat left profoundly impressed
A sense of consternation and surprise
In every Christian, every Pagan breast;
It seemed to haunt their horror-stricken eyes:
Of nought was spoken, save the nerve and might
That in it either combatant displayed;
But to whom give the honours of the fight,
Was a moot subject of opinion made;
LV.
E sta sospeso, in aspettando, quale
Avrà la fera lite avvenimento:
E se ‘l furore alla virtù
prevale,
436 O se cede l’audacia all’ardimento.
Ma più di ciascun altro, a cui ne cale,
La bella Erminia n’ha cura e tormento:
Chè da i giudícj dell’incerto Marte
440 Vede pender di se la miglior parte.
LV
All long to see them end this doubtful fray,
And as they favor, so they wish success,
These hope true virtue shall obtain the day,
Those trust on fury, strength and hardiness;
But on Erminia most this burden lay,
Whose looks her trouble and her fear express;
For on this dangerous combat’s doubtful end
Her joy, her comfort, hope and life depend.
LV.
Uncertain what succession would entail
The bloody horrors of that hard-fought field,
If fury would o’er chivalry prevail,
Or recklessness to real courage yield.
But more than all who apprehensive are,
Painful suspense the fair Erminia rends,
Since on the issue of uncertain war
A life far dearer than her own depends.
LVI.
Costei, che figlia fu del Re Cassano
Che d’Antiochia già l’imperio tenne,
Preso il suo regno, al vincitor Cristiano
444 Fra l’altre prede anch’ella in poter venne.
Ma fulle in guisa allor Tancredi umano,
Che nulla ingiuria in sua balía sostenne:
Ed onorata fu, nella ruina
448 Dell’alta patria sua, come Reina.
LVI
Her the sole daughter of that hapless king,
That of proud Antioch late wore the crown,
The Christian soldiers to Tancredi bring,
When they had sacked and spoiled that glorious town;
But he, in whom all good and virtue spring,
The virgin’s honor saved, and her renown;
And when her city and her state was lost,
Then was her person loved and honored most.
LVI.
She was the daughter of Cassano, who
Dominion held o’er Antioch of yore,
And when it fell before the Frank, she too,
With other spoil, fell into Tancred’s power;
But he behaved with such fine courtesy,
That at his hands no wrong she suffered: e’en
Amid the ruin of her country, she
Was honoured as though still she were its queen.
Jerusalem Delivered Page 192
