So toward heaven the prince lay bolt upright,
Like him that upward still sought to aspire,
His right hand closed held his weapon bright,
Ready to strike and execute his ire,
His left upon his breast was humbly laid,
That men might know, that while he died he prayed.
XXXIII.
‘Not prone to earth he grovelling lay, but, even
As starwards ever tended his desires,
He kept his face fixed steadily on heaven,
Like one who thereunto, enrapt, aspires;
His threatening right hand, round the hilt comprest,
Ready to strike, a naked falchion bore;
The left was humbly laid upon his breast,
And seemed God’s grace and pardon to implore.
XXXIV.
Mentre io le piaghe sue lavo col pianto,
Nè però sfogo il duol che l’alma accora;
Gli aprì la chiusa destra il vecchio santo,
268 E ‘l ferro che stringea trattone fuora:
Questa, a me disse, ch’oggi sparso ha tanto
Sangue nemico, e n’è vermiglia ancora,
È, come sai, perfetta: e non è forse
272 Altra spada che debba a lei preporse.
XXXIV
“Whilst on his wounds with bootless tears I wept,
That neither helped him, nor eased my care,
One of those aged fathers to him stepped,
And forced his hand that needless weapon spare:
‘This sword,’ quoth he, ‘hath yet good token kept,
That of the Pagans’ blood he drunk his share,
And blusheth still he could not save his lord,
Rich, strong and sharp, was never better sword.
XXXIV.
‘While with my tears I bathed each gaping wound,
Yet could not thus my soul-felt grief subdue,
The holy sage his closed right hand unbound,
And from its grasp his blood-stained sabre drew.
“This,” he exclaimed, “which has to-day outpoured
Such streams of blood, with which it is crimsoned yet,
Is perfect, as you know; nor is there sword
That better merits such an epithet.
XXXV.
Onde piace là su, che s’or la parte
Dal suo primo signore acerba morte,
Oziosa non resti in questa parte;
276 Ma di man passi in mano ardita e forte,
Che l’usi poi con egual forza ed arte;
Ma più lunga stagion con lieta sorte:
E con lei faccia, perchè a lei s’aspetta,
280 Di chi Sveno le uccise aspra vendetta.
XXXV
“‘Heaven, therefore, will not, though the prince be slain,
Who used erst to wield this precious brand
That so brave blade unused should remain;
But that it pass from strong to stronger hand,
Who with like force can wield the same again,
And longer shall in grace of fortune stand,
And with the same shall bitter vengeance take
On him that Sweno slew, for Sweno’s sake.
XXXV.
‘“Whence if it now through cruel death departs
From its first lord, by Heaven’s supreme command
It shall not rest inactive in these parts,
But pass along from hand to valiant hand,
Which then shall use it with like force and skill,
But longer and more fortunately too;
And on the Paynim that did Sweno kill
Shall wreak dire vengeance, as its rightful due.
XXXVI.
Soliman Sveno uccise, e Solimano
Dee per la spada sua restarne ucciso.
Prendila dunque, e vanne ove il Cristiano
284 Campo fia intorno all’alte mura assiso:
E non temer che nel paese estrano
Ti sia il sentier di novo anco preciso;
Chè t’agevolerà per l’aspra via
288 L’alta destra di lui ch’or là t’invia.
XXXVI
“‘Great Solyman killed Sweno, Solyman
For Sweno’s sake, upon this sword must die.
Here, take the blade, and with it haste thee than
Thither where Godfrey doth encamped lie,
And fear not thou that any shall or can
Or stop thy way, or lead thy steps awry;
For He that doth thee on this message send,
Thee with His hand shall guide, keep and defend.
XXXVI.
‘“By Solyman was gallant Sweno slain,
By Sweno’s sword must Solymano fall;
Receive it, then, and hasten to the plain,
Where the Frank host besieges Salem’s wall;
Nor needest thou, tho’ in a foreign land,
Fresh interruption to thy journey fear,
Since will be smoothed all dangers by the hand
Of Him who now directs thy footsteps there.
XXXVII.
Quivi egli vuol che da cotesta voce,
Che viva in te servò, si manifesti
La pietate, il valor, l’ardir feroce
292 Che nel diletto tuo Signor vedesti;
Perchè a segnar della purpurea Croce
L’arme, con tale esempio, altri si desti:
Ed ora, e dopo un corso anco di lustri
296 Infiammati ne sian gli animi illustri.
XXXVII
“‘Arrived there it is His blessed will,
With true report that thou declare and tell
The zeal, the strength, the courage and the skill
In thy beloved lord that late did dwell,
How for Christ’s sake he came his blood to spill,
And sample left to all of doing well,
That future ages may admire his deed,
And courage take when his brave end they read.
XXXVII.
‘“There ’tis His will thy voice should testify —
That voice which He so wondrously preserved —
The valorous spirit and deep piety
Which thou hast in thy well-loved lord observed;
That his example should the world inspire
To bear the purple Cross, and animate
All noble spirits with the like desire,
His deeds throughout all time to emulate.
XXXVIII.
Resta che sappia tu chi sia colui
Che deve della spada esser erede.
Questi è Rinaldo il giovinetto, a cui
300 Il pregio di fortezza ogn’altro cede.
A lui la porgi, e dì, che sol da lui
L’alta vendetta il Cielo e ‘l mondo chiede.
Or mentre io le sue voci intento ascolto,
304 Fui da miracol novo a se rivolto.
XXXVIII
“‘It resteth now, thou know that gentle knight
That of this sword shall be thy master’s heir,
It is Rinaldo young, with whom in might
And martial skill no champion may compare,
Give it to him and say, “The Heavens bright
Of this revenge to him commit the care.”
While thus I listened what this old man said,
A wonder new from further speech us stayed;
XXXVIII.
‘“It but remains to know his name, my son,
Who of the sword is the predestined heir;
That is the youth Rinaldo, with whom none
In point of valour can the least compare.
Give it to him, and say, to him alone
Both heaven and earth for retribution look.”
While thus intent I hung upon each tone,
Another wonder my attention took.
XXXIX.
Chè là dove il cadavero giacea,
Ebbi improvviso un gran sepolcro scorto,
Che sorgendo rinchiuso in se l’avea,
308 Come non so, nè con qual’arte sorto:
E in brevi note altrui vi si sponea
Il nome, e la virtù del guerrier morto.
Io non sapea da tal vista levarmi,
312 Mirando ora le lettre, ed ora i marmi.
XXXIX
“For there whereas the wounded body lay,
A stately tomb with curious work, behold,
And wondrous art was built out of the clay,
Which, rising round, the carcass did enfold;
With words engraven in the marble gray,
The warrior’s name, his worth and praise that told,
On which I gazing stood, and often read
That epitaph of my dear master dead.
XXXIX.
‘For there, where Sweno’s noble corse reposed,
All of a sudden I beheld a tomb,
That, rising up, his lifeless form enclosed;
Nor can I tell how raised there, or by whom:
The name and worth of the departed knight
A few brief words recorded. All amazed,
I knew not how to leave that wondrous sight,
As on the letters, on the stone I gazed.
XL.
Quì, disse il vecchio, appresso ai fidi amici
Giacerà del tuo Duce il corpo ascoso;
Mentre gli spirti amando in Ciel felici
316 Godon perpetuo bene e glorioso.
Ma tu col pianto omai gli estremi uficj
Pagato hai loro, e tempo è di riposo.
Oste mio ne sarai sinch’al viaggio
320 Mattutin ti risvegli il novo raggio.
XL
“‘Among his soldiers,’ quoth the hermit, ‘here
Must Sweno’s corpse remain in marble chest,
While up to heaven are flown their spirits dear,
To live in endless joy forever blest,
His funeral thou hast with many a tear
Accompanied, it’s now high time to rest,
Come be my guest, until the morning ray
Shall light the world again, then take thy way.’
XL.
‘“Here, near his faithful friends,” resumed the sage,
“lnshrined the body of thy lord shall lie,
While their souls gain a glorious heritage
Of love and joy eternal in the sky;
But having with thy tears thy duty done,
Now to repose the shades of eve invite;
Be thou my guest, then, till to-morrow’s sun
With its new beams thy matin journey light.”
XLI.
Tacque; e per lochi ora sublimi or cupi
Mi scorse, onde a gran pena il fianco trassi;
Sinch’ove pende da selvagge rupi
324 Cava spelonca raccogliemmo i passi.
Questo è il suo albergo: ivi fra gli orsi e i lupi,
Col discepolo suo, sicuro stassi;
Chè difesa miglior ch’usbergo e scudo,
328 È la santa innocenza al petto ignudo.
XLI
“This said, he led me over holts and hags,
Through thorns and bushes scant my legs I drew
Till underneath a heap of stones and crags
At last he brought me to a secret mew;
Among the bears, wild boars, the wolves and stags,
There dwelt he safe with his disciple true,
And feared no treason, force, nor hurt at all,
His guiltless conscience was his castle’s wall.
XLI.
‘He ceased, and led me up and down among
Wild ways that I with difficulty passed,
Till at a hollow cave, that beetling hung
From savage rocks, we stayed our steps at last.
This his abode; here he, ‘mid wolves and bears,
Dwells with his friend secure, since less defence
The steel-clad soldier in his armour wears,
Than man unarmed, in holy innocence.
XLII.
Silvestre cibo, e duro letto porse
Quivi alle membra mie posa e ristoro.
Ma poi ch’accesi in Oriente scorse
332 I raggj del mattin purpurei e d’oro;
Vigilante ad orar subito sorse
L’uno e l’altro Eremita, ed io con loro.
Dal santo vecchio poi congedo tolsi,
336 E quì, dov’egli consigliò, mi volsi.
XLII
“My supper roots; my bed was moss and leaves;
But weariness in little rest found ease:
But when the purple morning night bereaves
Of late usurped rule on lands and seas,
His loathed couch each wakeful hermit leaves,
To pray rose they, and I, for so they please,
I congee took when ended was the same,
And hitherward, as they advised me, came.”
XLII.
‘Here to my limbs hard bed and hermit fare
Refreshment gave, and much desired repose;
But when the matin beams rekindled were,
And the dawn prankt in gold and purple rose,
The wakeful hermits failed not to perceive
The light that summoned them to morning prayer,
And rose; and with them I — then took my leave,
And bent my Course, as they directed, here.’
XLIII.
Quì si tacque il Tedesco; e gli rispose
Il pio Buglione: o cavalier, tu porte
Dure novelle al campo e dolorose,
340 Onde a ragion si turbi e si sconforte:
Poichè genti sì amiche e valorose
Breve ora ha tolte, e poca terra assorte:
E in guisa d’un baleno il Signor vostro
344 S’è in un sol punto dileguato, e mostro.
XLIII
The Dane his woful tale had done, when thus
The good Prince Godfrey answered him, “Sir knight,
Thou bringest tidings sad and dolorous,
For which our heavy camp laments of right,
Since so brave troops and so dear friends to us,
One hour hath spent, in one unlucky fight;
And so appeared hath thy master stout,
As lightning doth, now kindled, now quenched out.
XLIII.
Here ceased the Dane, and thus the pious chief:
‘Sad news thou bringest to the camp, sir knight,
Nor fails thy narrative, so fraught with grief,
In us congenial sorrow to excite,
Since from us friends so ready with the sword
An hour has snatched, absorbed a little clay.
Like heaven’s own lightning, thy illustrious lord
Flashed for a moment, and then passed away.
XLIV.
Ma che? felice è cotal morte e scempio,
Via più ch’acquisto di provincie e d’oro:
Nè dar l’antico Campidoglio esempio
348 D’alcun può mai sì glorioso alloro.
Essi del Ciel nel luminoso tempio
Han corona immortal del vincer loro.
Ivi, cred’io, che le sue belle piaghe
352 Ciascun lieto dimostri, e se n’appaghe.
XLIV
“But such a death and end exceedeth all
The conquests vain of realms, or spoils of gold,
Nor aged Rome’s proud stately capital,
Did ever triumph yet like theirs behold;
They sit in heaven on thrones celestial,
Crowned with glory, for their conquest bold,
Where each his hurts I think to other shows,
And glories in those bloody wounds and blows.
XLIV.
‘But then, far happier was his bloody doom,
Than that of those who gold and realms bequeath,
Nor can the Capitol record to whom
Was given more worthily its laurel wreath:
They in the lucent temple of the sky
With victory�
��s deathless coronets are crowned,
There show the tokens of their gallantry,
And point contented to each glorious wound.
XLV.
Ma tu ch’alle fatiche, ed al periglio
Nella milizia ancor resti del mondo;
Devi gioir de’ lor trionfi, e ‘l ciglio
356 Render, quanto conviene, omai giocondo.
E perchè chiedi di Bertoldo il figlio,
Sappi, ch’ei fuor dell’oste è vagabondo;
Nè lodo io già che dubbia via tu prenda,
360 Pria che di lui certa novella intenda.
XLV
“But thou who hast part of thy race to run,
With haps and hazards of this world ytost,
rejoice, for those high honors they have won,
Which cannot be by chance or fortune crossed:
But for thou askest for Bertoldo’s son,
Know, that he wandereth, banished from this host,
And till of him new tidings some man tell,
Within this camp I deem it best thou dwell.”
XLV.
‘But thou, that for the toils and perils new
Of the world’s warfare still remainest here,
Shouldst in their glorious triumphs triumph too,
And of its gloom thy clouded aspect clear;
And since Bertholdo’s son thou seekest, know
That from the camp are turned his flying feet,
Nor in direction doubtful shouldst thou go,
Till we have learned sure news of his retreat.’
XLVI.
Questo lor ragionar nell’altrui mente
Di Rinaldo l’amor desta, e rinnova:
E v’è chi dice: ahi fra Pagana gente
364 Il giovinetto errante or si ritrova:
E non v’è quasi alcun che non rammente,
Narrando al Dano, i suoi gran fatti a prova;
E dell’opere sue la lunga tela
368 Con istupor gli si dispiega, e svela.
XLVI
These words of theirs in many a soul renewed
The sweet remembrance of fair Sophia’s child,
Some with salt tears for him their cheeks bedewed,
Lest evil betide him mongst the Pagans wild,
And every one his valiant prowess showed,
And of his battles stories long compiled,
Telling the Dane his acts and conquests past,
Which made his ears amazed, his heart aghast.
XLVI.
This their discourse awakened and renewed
Love of Rinaldo, and with friendly ruth
Jerusalem Delivered Page 209
