Some beaten back, some killed, some felled down.
LXXXIII
Still showing front, the Gascon troops give way,
But, scattered o’er the field, the Syrians fled,
Not far from where the gallant Tancred lay,
Who heard their cries within, and from his bed
His maimed and still enfeebled body raised,
Mounted the roof, and saw in full retreat
Some of the Franks, and, as around he gazed,
The count struck down, and some in route complete.
LXXXIV.
Virtù ch’a’ valorosi unqua non manca,
Perchè languisca il corpo fral, non langue;
Ma le piagate membra in lui rinfranca
668 Quasi in vece di spirito e di sangue.
Del gravissimo scudo arma ei la manca:
E non par grave il peso al braccio esangue.
Prende con l’altra man l’ignuda spada
672 (Tanto basta all’uom forte) e più non bada.
LXXXIV
Courage in noble hearts that ne’er is spent,
Yet fainted not, though faint were every limb,
But reinforced each member cleft and rent,
And want of blood and strength supplied in him;
In his left hand his heavy shield he hent,
Nor seemed the weight too great, his curtlax trim
His right hand drew, nor for more arms he stood
Or stayed, he needs no more whose heart is good:
LXXXIV
But valour, which the valorous never fails
Nor droops, altho’ the exhausted body should,
The wounded warrior’s languid members mails,
As if in place of spirit and of blood.
His ponderous shield, as ‘twere a burden light,
He on his weak and bloodless left arm bore;
Snatched up a naked sabre in his right
(Tis all the brave require), nor waited more,
LXXXV.
Ma giù sen viene, e grida: ove fuggite,
Lasciando il Signor vostro in preda altrui?
Dunque i barbari chiostri, e le meschite
676 Spiegheran per trofeo l’arme di lui?
Or tornando in Guascogna al figlio dite,
Che morì il padre, onde fuggiste vui.
Così lor parla; e ‘l petto nudo e infermo
680 A mille armati e vigorosi è schermo.
LXXXV
But coming forth, cried, “Whither will you run,
And leave your leader to his foes in prey?
What! shall these heathen of his armor won,
In their vile temples hang up trophies gay?
Go home to Gascoign then, and tell his son
That where his father died, you ran away:”
This said, against a thousand armed foes,
He did his breast weak, naked, sick, oppose.
LXXXV
But rushed down, shouting: ‘Whither do ye fly,
Your leader leaving to you hordes a prey?
What! let the temples of the enemy
The trophied armour of your lord display?
Gascons, go back to Gascony, and tell
The son, you fled from where his father died.’
His unarmed breast, while making this appeal,
Defence to armed, all-powerful hosts supplied.
LXXXVI.
E col grave suo scudo, il qual di sette
Dure cuoja di tauro era composto,
E che alle terga poi di tempre elette
684 Un coperchio d’acciajo ha sovrapposto;
Tien dalle spade, e tien dalle saette,
Tien da tutte arme il buon Raimondo ascosto:
E col ferro i nemici intorno sgombra
688 Sì, che giace sicuro, e quasi all’ombra.
LXXXVI
And with his heavy, strong and mighty targe,
That with seven hard bulls’ hides was surely lined,
And strengthened with a cover thick and large
Of stiff and well-attempered steel behind,
He shielded Raymond from the furious charge,
From swords, from darts, from weapons of each kind,
And all his foes drove back with his sharp blade,
That sure and safe he lay, as in a shade.
LXXXVI
And ‘neath his heavy buckler, which was made
Of seven well-seasoned and unyielding hides,
Upon whose back there was a covering laid
Of the most finely-tempered steel besides,
From sword, from shaft, from every weapon kept
Raimondo covered, while his trenchant blade
The space around him so completely swept
That the count lay secure, as if in shade;
LXXXVII.
Respirando risorge in spazio poco
Sotto il fido riparo il Vecchio accolto.
E si sente avvampar di doppio foco,
692 Di sdegno il core, e di vergogna il volto.
E drizza gli occhj accesi a ciascun loco,
Per riveder quel fiero onde fu colto.
Ma nol vedendo freme, e far prepara
696 Ne’ seguaci di lui vendetta amara.
LXXXVII
Thus saved, thus shielded, Raymond ‘gan respire,
He rose and reared himself in little space,
And in his bosom burned the double fire
Of vengeance; wrath his heart; shame filled his face;
He looked around to spy, such was his ire,
The man whose stroke had laid him in that place,
Whom when he sees not, for disdain he quakes,
And on his people sharp revengement takes.
LXXXVII
Who, sheltered ‘neath such faithful shelter, came
To himself, and, breathing, rose refreshed once more,
Feeling within a double fire inflame
His cheeks with shame, with rage his inmost core;
And on all sides his flashing eyeballs turned
In quest of him that struck with such despite;
And seeing him not, with bitter vengeance burned
The outrage on his followers to requite.
LXXXVIII.
Ritornan gli Aquitani, e tutti insieme
Seguono il Duce al vendicarsi intento.
Lo stuol che dianzi osava tanto, or teme:
700 Audacia passa ov’era pria spavento.
Cede chi rincalzò, chi cesse or preme.
Così varian le cose in un momento.
Ben fa Raimondo or sua vendetta, e sconta
704 Pur di sua man con cento morti un’onta.
LXXXVIII
The Gascoigns turn again, their lord in haste
To venge their loss his hand recorded brings,
The troop that durst so much now stood aghast,
For where sad fear grew late, now boldness springs,
Now followed they that fled, fled they that chased;
So in one hour altereth the state of things,
Raymond requites his loss, shame, hurt and all,
And with an hundred deaths revenged one fall.
LXXXVIII
Back then returned the Gascon cavaliers,
And, bent on vengeance, with their chief unite;
The Pagan’s courage is now changed to fears,
And boldness enters where before was fright.
The attackers yield; who yielded, now attack.
Thus in a moment all things changed became:
Such Raymond’s vengeance, whose bold arm paid back,
By death of hundreds, his one single shame.
LXXXIX.
Mentre Raimondo il vergognoso sdegno
Sfogar ne’ capi più sublimi tenta;
Vede l’usurpator del nobil regno
708 Che fra’ primi combatte, e gli s’avventa.
E ‘l fere in fronte, e nel medesmo segno
Tocca e ritocca, e ‘l suo colpir non lenta;
O
nde il Re cade, e, con singulto orrendo,
712 La terra ove regnò morde morendo.
LXXXIX
Whilst Raymond wreaked thus his just disdain
On the proud-heads of captains, lords and peers,
He spies great Sion’s king amid the train,
And to him leaps, and high his sword he rears,
And on his forehead strikes, and strikes again,
Till helm and head he breaks, he cleaves, he tears;
Down fell the king, the guiltless land he bit,
That now keeps him, because he kept not it.
LXXXIX
While Raymond thus his wounded pride to sate
Upon the most illustrious Pagans tried,
He saw the usurper of the noble state
Fight in the van, and galloped to his side,
And struck him, and restruck him ‘twixt the eyes
On the same spot, nor from his strokes refrained;
Whence fell the king, who, venting horrid sighs,
Expiring, bit the ground o’er which he reigned.
XC.
Poi ch’una scorta è lunge, e l’altra uccisa,
In color che restar vario è l’affetto.
Alcun, di belva infuriata in guisa,
716 Disperato nel ferro urta col petto:
Altri, temendo, di campar s’avvisa,
E là rifugge ov’ebbe pria ricetto.
Ma tra’ fuggenti il vincitor commisto
720 Entra, e fin pone al glorioso acquisto.
XC
Their guides, one murdered thus, the other gone,
The troops divided were, in diverse thought,
Despair made some run headlong gainst their fone,
To seek sharp death that comes uncalled, unsought;
And some, that laid their hope on flight alone,
Fled to their fort again; yet chance so wrought,
That with the flyers in the victors pass,
And so the fortress won and conquered was.
XC
One chief being absent and the other slain,
Diverse emotions the survivors feel;
Some, like infuriate animals, amain
Rush in despair upon the hostile steel;
Others, affrighted, deem it best to flee
Where erst they met with a secure retreat;
But, mingling with the flying enemy,
The victors enter and their work complete.
XCI.
Presa è la Rocca; e su per l’alte scale
Chi fugge è morto, o in su le prime soglie;
E nel sommo di lei Raimondo sale,
724 E nella destra il gran vessillo toglie:
E incontra ai due gran campi il trionfale
Segno della vittoria al vento scioglie.
Ma già nol guarda il fier Soldan, chè lunge
728 È di là fatto, ed alla pugna giunge.
XCI
The hold was won, slain were the men that fled,
In courts, halls, chambers high; above, below,
Old Raymond fast up to the leads him sped,
And there, of victory true sign and show,
His glorious standard to the wind he spread,
That so both armies his success might know.
But Solyman saw not the town was lost,
For far from thence he was, and near the host;
XCI
The keep is won. Upon the sill and stairs
The fugitive Pagans fall with heavy loss;
And Raymond, mounting to its summit, bears
Aloft the glorious ensign of the Cross,
And in the presence of both camps unrolled
The haughty symbol of their victory.
It fiery Solyman did not behold,
Since absent at the greater fight was he.
XCII.
Giunge in campagna tepida e vermiglia,
Che d’ora in ora più di sangue ondeggia,
Sì che il regno di morte omai somiglia,
732 Ch’ivi i trionfi suoi spiega, e passeggia.
Vede un destrier che con pendente briglia,
Senza rettor, trascorso è fuor di greggia;
Gli gitta al fren la mano, e ‘l voto dorso
736 Montando preme, e poi lo spinge al corso.
XCII
Into the field he came, the lukewarm blood
Did smoke and flow through all the purple field,
There of sad death the court and palace stood,
There did he triumphs lead, and trophies build;
An armed steed fast by the Soldan yood,
That had no guide, nor lord the reins to wield,
The tyrant took the bridle, and bestrode
The courser’s empty back, and forth he rode.
XCII
He reached the field, which reeking was and red,
And every moment, from fresh slaughter, streamed,
So that now like the city of the Dead,
Where Death his trophies shows and stalks, it seemed.
There he a destrier saw, with dangling rein,
Fly, riderless, in terror from the ranks,
Whom, caught, he mounted, and across the plain,
To reach the battle, pressed its heaving flanks.
XCIII.
Grande, ma breve aita apportò questi
Ai Saracini impauriti e lassi.
Grande, ma breve fulmine il diresti,
740 Che inaspettato sopraggiunga, e passi:
Ma del suo corso momentaneo resti
Vestigio eterno in dirupati sassi.
Cento ei n’uccise e più; pur di due soli
744 Non fia che la memoria il tempo involi.
XCIII
Great, yet but short and sudden was the aid
That to the Pagans, faint and weak, he brought,
A thunderbolt he was, you would have said,
Great, yet that comes and goes as swift as thought
And of his coming swift and flight unstayed
Eternal signs in hardest rocks hath wrought,
For by his hand a hundred knights were slain,
But time forgot hath all their names but twain;
XCII
Great but brief succour. Solymano brought
To the disheartened Saracens — you’d say,
Lightening he was that, with destruction fraught.
Flashed unexpectedly, and passed away;
but marks eterne, in many a blasted stone.
Leaves of its transient momentary flight.
Hundreds he slew: but of one pair alone
Will I, to snatch from Time their memory, write.
XCIV.
Gildippe ed Odoardo, i casi vostri
Duri ed acerbi e i fatti onesti e degni
(Se tanto lice ai miei Toscani inchiostri)
748 Consacrerò fra’ pellegrini ingegni:
Sicchè ogni età, quasi ben nati mostri
Di virtute e d’amor, v’additi e segni:
E, col suo pianto, alcun servo d’Amore
752 La morte vostra e le mie rime onore.
XCIV
Gildippes fair, and Edward thy dear lord,
Your noble death, sad end, and woful fate,
If so much power our vulgar tongue afford,
To all strange wits, strange ears let me dilate,
That ages all your love and sweet accord,
Your virtue, prowess, worth may imitate,
And some kind servant of true love that hears,
May grace your death, my verses, with some tears.
XCIV
Edward and fair Gildippe! your hard fate
And honourable actions I would link
With and ‘mid noblest spirits consecrate,
If such be granted to my Tuscan ink;
So that your names as miracles appear
Of Love and Virtue stamped upon all time,
And lovers honour with a pitying tear
Your noble deaths and my unworthy rhyme
La magnanima Donna il destrier volse
Dove le genti distruggea quel crudo,
E di due gran fendenti appieno il colse:
756 Ferigli il fianco, e gli partì lo scudo.
Grida il crudel, ch’all’abito raccolse
Chi costei fosse: ecco la putta, e ‘l drudo.
Meglio per te s’avessi il fuso e l’ago,
760 Che in tua difesa aver la spada e ‘l Vago.
XCV
The noble lady thither boldly flew,
Where first the Soldan fought, and him defied,
Two mighty blows she gave the Turk untrue,
One cleft his shield, the other pierced his side;
The prince the damsel by her habit knew,
“See, see this mankind strumpet, see,” he cried,
“This shameless whore, for thee fit weapons were
Thy neeld and spindle, not a sword and spear.”
XCV
The heroic woman turned her steed to oppose
The Turk, who spread such havoc o’er the field,
And caught him full with two great slashing blows;
One struck his flank, one clave in twain his shield.
He who the heroine by her armour knew,
‘Behold the strumpet and her minion!’ cried;
‘Better defence the needle were for you.
Than lover’s arm or broadsword by your side.’
XCVI.
Quì tacque; e di furor più che mai pieno,
Drizzò percossa temeraria e fera
Ch’osò, rompendo ogn’arme, entrar nel seno
764 Che de’ colpi d’Amor degno sol’era.
Ella repente abbandonando il freno,
Sembiante fa d’uom che languisca e pera.
E ben sel vede il misero Odoardo,
768 Mal fortunato difensor, non tardo.
XCVI
This said, full of disdain, rage and despite,
A strong, a fierce, a deadly stroke he gave,
And pierced her armor, pierced her bosom white,
Worthy no blows, but blows of love to have:
Her dying hand let go the bridle quite,
She faints, she falls, ‘twixt life and death she strave,
Her lord to help her came, but came too late,
Yet was not that his fault, it was his fate.
XCVI
He ceased, and, with more rage than e’er possessed,
A fierce and desperate blow against her drove,
Which, her arms riving, dared impinge her breast —
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