And to the bottom dashed him headlong down.
XXXVI.
Non è mortal, ma grave il colpo e ‘l salto
Sì ch’ei stordisce, e giace immobil pondo.
Argante allora in suon feroce ed alto:
284 Caduto è il primo, or chi verrà secondo?
Chè non uscite a manifesto assalto,
Appiattati guerrier, s’io non m’ascondo?
Non gioveranvi le caverne estrane;
288 Ma vi morrete come belve in tane.
XXXVI
Not mortal was the blow, yet with the fall
On earth sore bruised the man lay in a swoon.
Argantes gan with boasting words to call,
“Who cometh next? this first is tumbled down,
Come, hardy soldiers, come, assault this wall,
I will not shrink, nor fly, nor hide my crown,
If in your trench yourselves for dread you hold,
There shall you die like sheep killed in their fold.”
XXXVI
Not mortal was the blow, but still the fall
Stunned him; he lay a voiceless, moveless weight.
Then cried the gibing victor from the wall:
‘Fallen is the first, who next will share his fate?
Why not come forth, ye sneaking, skulking braves,
And open battle, like Arganté, dare?
No aid ye’ll find in your outlandish caves,
But in them die, like wild beast in his lair.’
XXXVII.
Così dice egli; e per suo dir non cessa
La gente occulta; e tra i ripari cavi
E sotto gli alti scudi unita e spessa
292 Le saette sostiene, e i pesi gravi;
Già l’ariete alla muraglia appressa
Machine grandi, e smisurate travi
C’han testa di monton ferrata e dura.
296 Temon le porte il cozzo e l’alte mura.
XXXVII
Thus boasted he; but in their trenches deep,
The hidden squadrons kept themselves from scath,
The curtain made of shields did well off keep
Both darts and shot, and scorned all their wrath.
But now the ram upon the rampiers steep,
On mighty beams his head advanced hath,
With dreadful horns of iron tough tree great,
The walls and bulwarks trembled at his threat.
XXXVII
Not for his challenge ceased the Franks, concealed
Beneath their concave covering, but remained
Compact and close, each ‘neath his upraised shield,
Which firm the bolts and ponderous weights sustained.
Now ‘gainst the walls the battering rams are led,
Vast engines of colossal woodwork reared,
With a ram’s solid iron-plated head,
Whose butt alike by gate and wall is feared.
XXXVIII.
Gran mole intanto è di là su rivolta
Per cento mani al gran bisogno pronte,
Che sovra la testuggine più folta
300 Ruina, e par che vi trabocchi un monte:
E, degli scudi l’union disciolta,
Più d’un elmo vi frange e d’una fronte:
E ne riman la terra sparsa e rossa
304 D’arme, di sangue, di cervella, e d’ossa.
XXXVIII
An hundred able men meanwhile let fall
The weights behind, the engine tumbled down
And battered flat the battlements and wall:
So fell Taigetus hill on Sparta town,
It crushed the steeled shield in pieces small,
And beat the helmet to the wearers’ crown,
And on the ruins of the walls and stones,
Dispersed left their blood their brains and bones.
XXXVIII
Meanwhile a rock, suspended from the walls
By hands of hundreds to protect the town,
Upon the tortoise fell, and as it falls
It seemed as tho’ a mountain had fallen down,
The shields’ inwoven union crashing through;
It many a helmet smashed and many a head,
Strewing with arms the ground beneath, which grew,
From bones, and brains, and blood, a ghastly red.
XXXIX.
L’assalitor allor sotto al coperto
Delle machine sue più non ripara:
Ma da i ciechi periglj al rischio aperto
308 Fuori se n’esce, e sua virtù dichiara.
Altri appoggia le scale e va per l’erto:
Altri percuote i fondamenti a gara.
Ne crolla il muro, e ruinoso i fianchi
312 Già fessi mostra all’impeto de’ Franchi.
XXXIX
The fierce assailants kept no longer close
Undcr the shelter of their target fine,
But their bold fronts to chance of war expose,
And gainst those towers let their virtue shine,
The scaling ladders up to skies arose,
The ground-works deep some closely undermine,
The walls before the Frenchmen shrink and shake,
And gaping sign of headlong falling make:
XXXIX
No longer now beneath the sheltering roof
Of their machines the attacking Franks remain,
But from the latent risks to open proof,
Dauntless, rush forth, and their own strength maintain.
These ladders fix and scale the lofty wall;
These batter its foundations; lo, its flanks
Already totter — nay, begin to fall —
Before the desperate onslaught of the Franks.
XL.
E ben cadeva alle percosse orrende
Che doppia in lui l’espugnator montone;
Ma sin da’ merli il popolo il difende
316 Con usata di guerra arte e ragione:
Ch’ovunque la gran trave in lui si stende,
Cala fasci di lana, e gli frappone.
Prende in se le percosse e fa più lente
320 La materia arrendevole e cedente.
XL
And fallen they had, so far the strength extends
Of that fierce ram and his redoubted stroke,
But that the Pagan’s care the place defends
And saved by warlike skill the wall nigh broke:
For to what part soe’er the engine bends,
Their sacks of wool they place the blow to choke,
Whose yielding breaks the strokes thereon which light,
So weakness oft subdues the greatest might.
XL
And fallen they had beneath the horrid blows
Which the great battering ram directed there,
Did not the Turks their violence oppose
With all the known appliances of war;
Gabions of wool they interpose where’er
The mighty beam inclines its murderous course,
Which on themselves the rude concussion bear:
Thus the soft substance breaks the engine’s force.
XLI.
Mentre con tal valor s’erano strette
Le audaci schiere alla tenzon murale,
Curvò Clorinda sette volte, e sette
324 Rallentò l’arco, e ne avventò lo strale:
E quante in giù se ne volar saette,
Tante s’insanguinaro il ferro e l’ale,
Non di sangue plebeo, ma del più degno:
328 Chè sprezza quell’altera ignobil segno.
XLI
While thus the worthies of the western crew
Maintained their brave assault and skirmish hot,
Her mighty bow Clorinda often drew,
And many a sharp and deadly arrow shot;
And from her bow no steeled shaft there flew
But that some blood the cursed engine got,
Blood of some valiant knight or man of fame,
For that p
roud shootress scorned weaker game.
XLI
While bravely thus the Christians fought, and taxed
Their every effort to possess the town,
Seven times Clorinda bent, seven times relaxed
Her fatal bow, and shot seven arrows down;
And oft, as thither the swift quarrels scud,
So oft the barb and feathered wings are stained,
Not in plebeian, but in noblest blood:
Ignoble mark that haughty fair disdained.
XLII.
Il primo cavalier ch’ella piagasse
Fu l’erede minor del Rege Inglese.
De’ suoi ripari appena il capo ei trasse,
332 Che la mortal percossa in lui discese.
E che la destra man non gli trapasse,
Il guanto dell’acciar nulla contese;
Sicchè inabile all’arme ei si ritira
336 Fremendo, e meno di dolor che d’ira.
XLII
The first she hit among the Christian peers
Was the bold son of England’s noble king,
Above the trench himself he scantly rears,
But she an arrow loosed from the string,
The wicked steel his gauntlet breaks and tears,
And through his right hand thrust the piercing sting;
Disabled thus from fight, he gan retire,
Groaning for pain, but fretting more for ire.
XLII
The first she wounded was a cavalier,
The younger heir of England’s king. His head
But scarcely did above the mantelet peer,
Than against him the deadly quarrel sped;
Nor could steel gauntlet — with such force it flew —
Prevent it riving his right hand in twain;
Whence from the fight, disabled, he withdrew,
Fuming, but more from passion than from pain.
XLIII.
Il buon Conte d’Ambuosa in ripa al fosso,
E su la scala poi Clotareo il Franco:
Quegli morì trafitto il petto e ‘l dosso:
340 Questi dall’un passato all’altro fianco.
Sospingeva il monton, quando è percosso
Al signor de’ Fiamminghi il braccio manco:
Sicchè tra via s’allenta, e vuol poi trarne
344 Lo strale, e resta il ferro entro la carne.
XLIII
Lord Stephen of Amboise on the ditch’s brim,
And on a ladder high, Clotharius died,
From back to breast an arrow pierced him,
The other was shot through from side to side:
Then as he managed brave his courser trim,
On his left arm he hit the Flemings’ guide,
He stopped, and from the wound the reed out-twined,
But left the iron in his flesh behind.
XLIII
The Count of Amboise on the trench’s bank,
And on the ladder bold Clotharius died;
From breast to back transfixed the former sank,
The last her arrow pierced from side to side:
The Flemish chiefs left arm, while in the act
Of swinging the huge ram, her shaft restrained;
He paused, and strove the arrow to extract,
But in his flesh the iron barb remained.
XLIV.
All’incauto Ademar, ch’era da lunge
La fera pugna a riguardar rivolto,
La fatal canna arriva, e in fronte il punge.
348 Stende ei la destra al loco ove fu colto,
Quando nova saetta ecco sorgiunge
Sovra la mano, e la configge al volto:
Onde egli cade, e fa del sangue sacro
352 Su l’arme femminili ampio lavacro.
XLIV
As Ademare stood to behold the fight
High on the bank, withdrawn to breathe a space,
A fatal shaft upon his forehead light,
His hand he lifted up to feel the place,
Whereon a second arrow chanced right,
And nailed his hand unto his wounded face,
He fell, and with his blood distained the land,
His holy blood shed by a virgin’s hand.
XLIV
Incautious Ademar, who, far remote,
Watched the fierce combat with solicitous look,
The mortal reed upon his temple smote;
When, as he placed his hand where he was struck,
Through it, behold, another arrow tore,
And nailed it to his face; upon the hill
Sank the bold priest, and bathed with sacred gore
The arms directed by a woman’s skill.
XLV.
Ma non lungi da’ merli a Palamede,
Mentre ardito disprezza ogni periglio
E su per gli erti gradi indrizza il piede,
356 Cala il settimo ferro al destro ciglio:
E trapassando per la cava sede
E tra i nervi dell’occhio, esce vermiglio
Diretro per la nuca: egli trabocca,
360 E muore a piè dell’assalita rocca.
XLV
While Palamede stood near the battlement,
Despising perils all, and all mishap,
And upward still his hardy footings bent,
On his right eye he caught a deadly clap,
Through his right eye Clorinda’s seventh shaft went,
And in his neck broke forth a bloody gap;
He underneath that bulwark dying fell,
Which late to scale and win he trusted well.
XLV
Then near the battlements, on Palamede,
While, scorning every peril, he ascends
Up the steep ladder, the seventh fatal reed
Falls, and its point in his right eye descends,
And, passing thro’ its nerves and concave ball,
At the nape issues in most bloody guise;
Headlong he tumbles from the assaulted wall,
And at its foot, without a struggle, dies.
XLVI.
Tal saetta costei! Goffredo intanto
Con novo assalto i difensori opprime.
Avea condotto ad una porta accanto
364 Delle machine sue la più sublime.
Questa è torre di legno, e s’erge tanto
Che può del muro pareggiar le cime:
Torre, che grave d’uomini ed armata,
368 Mobile è su le rote, e vien tirata.
XLVI
Thus shot the maid: the duke with hard assay
And sharp assault, meanwhile the town oppressed,
Against that part which to his campward lay
An engine huge and wondrous he addressed,
A tower of wood built for the town’s decay
As high as were the walls and bulwarks best,
A turret full of men and weapons pent,
And yet on wheels it rolled, moved, and went.
XLVI
Thus shot Clorinda. Meanwhile Godfred sought
Another plan to attack the Saracens,
Having against the nearest portal brought
The most colossal of his huge machines;
This was a tower of wood, whose giant height
To the wall’s level rose, and, with a strong
Body of men being freighted for the fight,
Was slowly dragged on rolling wheels along.
XLVII.
Viene avventando la volubil mole
Lance e quadrella, e quanto può s’accosta:
E, come nave in guerra nave suole,
372 Tenta d’unirsi alla muraglia opposta.
Ma chi lei guarda, ed impedir ciò vuole,
Le urta la fronte, e l’una e l’altra costa:
La respinge con l’aste, e le percuote
376 Or con le pietre i merli ed or le rote.
XLVII
This rolling fort his nigh approaches made,
And darts and arrows spit against his foes,<
br />
As ships are wont in fight, so it assayed
With the strong wall to grapple and to close,
The Pagans on each side the piece invade,
And all their force against this mass oppose,
Sometimes the wheels, sometimes the battlement
With timber, logs and stones, they broke and rent,
XLVII
The moving mass approached the battle’s brunt,
Launching forth bolts and javelins at the foes,
And as in action ship with ship is wont,
So with the adverse walls it tried to close;
But, on their guard, the Pagan cavaliers
Shoved off its frowning front and sides immense;
Battering with stones, and thrusting back with spears,
Now its huge wheels, and now its battlements!
XLVIII.
Tanti di qua, tanti di là fur mossi
E sassi e dardi, ch’oscuronne il Cielo.
S’urtar due nembi in aria, e là tornossi
380 Talor respinto onde partiva il telo.
Come di fronde sono i rami scossi
Dalla pioggia indurata in freddo gelo,
E ne caggiono i pomi anco immaturi;
384 Così cadeano i Saracin da i muri.
XLVIII
So thick flew stones and darts, that no man sees
The azure heavens, the sun his brightness lost,
The clouds of weapons, like to swarms of bees,
Move the air, and there each other crossed:
And look how falling leaves drop down from trees,
When the moist sap is nipped with timely frost,
Or apples in strong winds from branches fall;
The Saracens so tumbled from the wall.
XLVIII
Such flights of shafts and stones were hurled, that black
The face of heaven, from these, from those, became;
Midway, two clouds of missiles met, and back
Rebounded some of them to whence they came:
As stripped of leaves are trees by wintry rains,
Congealed to hail; as fruit, still unripe, falls
Before its time upon the whitened plains,
So fell the Pagans from the embattled walls.
XLIX.
Perocchè scende in lor più grave il danno,
Chè di ferro assai meno eran guerniti.
Parte de’ vivi ancora in fuga vanno,
388 Della gran mole al fulminar smarriti.
Ma quel che già fu di Nicea Tiranno
Jerusalem Delivered Page 229
