Part 46 (1/2)
CX ”This ensign, Rimedon, I gave not thee To be the witness of thy fear and flight, Coward, dost thou thy lord and captain see In battle strong, and runn'st thyself from fight?
What seek'st thou? safety? come, return with me, The way to death is path to virtue right, Here let him fight that would escape; for this The way to honor, way to safety is.”
CXI The man returned and swelled with scorn and shame, The duke with speeches grave exhorts the rest; He threats, he strikes sometime, till back they came, And rage gainst force, despair gainst death addressed.
Thus of his broken armies gan he frame A battle now, some hope dwelt in his breast, But Tisiphernes bold revived him most, Who fought and seemed to win, when all was lost;
CXII Wonders that day wrought n.o.ble Tisipherne, The hardy Normans all he overthrew; The Flemings fled before the champion stern, Gernier, Rogero, Gerard bold he slew; His glorious deeds to praise and fame etern His life's short date prolonged, enlarged and drew, And then, as he that set sweet life at nought, The greatest peril, danger, most he sought.
CXIII He spied Rinaldo, and although his field Of azure purple now and sanguine shows, And though the silver bird amid his s.h.i.+eld Were armed gules; yet he the champion knows.
And says, ”Here greatest peril is, heavens yield Strength to my courage, fortune to my blows, That fair Armida her revenge may see, Help, Macon, for his arms I vow to thee.”
CXIV Thus prayed he, but all his vows were vain, Mahound was deaf, or slept in heavens above, And as a lion strikes him with his train, His native wrath to quicken and to move, So he awaked his fury and disdain, And sharped his courage on the whetstone love; Himself he saved behind his mighty targe, And forward spurred his steed and gave the charge.
CXV The Christian saw the hardy warrior come, And leaped forth to undertake the fight, The people round about gave place and room, And wondered on that fierce and cruel sight, Some praised their strength, their skill and courage some, Such and so desperate blows struck either knight, That all that saw forgot both ire and strife, Their wounds, their hurts, forgot both death and life.
CXVI One struck, the other did both strike and wound, His arms were surer, and his strength was more; From Tisipheme the blood streamed down around; His s.h.i.+eld was deft, his helm was rent and tore.
The dame, that saw his blood besmear the ground, His armor broke, limbs weak, wounds deep and sore, And all her guard dead, fled, and overthrown, Thought, now her field lay waste, her hedge lay down:
CXVII Environed with so brave a troop but late, Now stood she in her chariot all alone, She feared bondage, and her life did hate, All hope of conquest and revenge was gone, Half mad and half amazed from where she sate, She leaped down, and fled from friends' and fone, On a swift horse she mounts, and forth she rides Alone, save for disdain and love, her guides.
CXVIII In days of old, Queen Cleopatra so Alone fled from the fight and cruel fray, Against Augustus great his happy foe, Leaving her lord to loss and sure decay.
And as that lord for love let honor go, Followed her flying sails and lost the day: So Tisipherne the fair and fearful dame Would follow, but his foe forbids the same.
CXIX But when the Pagan's joy and comfort fled, It seemed the sun was set, the day was night, Gainst the brave prince with whom he combated He turned, and on the forehead struck the knight: When thunders forged are in Typhoius' bed, Not Brontes' hammer falls so swift, so right; The furious stroke fell on Rinaldo's crest, And made him bend his head down to his breast.
CXX The champion in his stirrups high upstart, And cleft his hauberk hard and tender side, And sheathed his weapon in the Pagan's heart, The castle where man's life and soul do bide; The cruel sword his breast and hinder part With double wound unclosed, and opened wide; And two large doors made for his life and breath, Which pa.s.sed, and cured hot love with frozen death.
CXXI This done, Rinaldo stayed and looked around, Where he should harm his foes, or help his friends; Nor of the Pagans saw he squadron sound: Each standard falls, ensign to earth descends; His fury quiet then and calm he found, There all his wrath, his rage, and rancor ends, He called to mind how, far from help or aid, Armida fled, alone, amazed, afraid:
CXXII Well saw he when she fled, and with that sight The prince had pity, courtesy and care; He promised her to be her friend and knight When erst he left her in the island bare: The way she fled he ran and rode aright, Her palfrey's feet signs in the gra.s.s outware: But she this while found out an ugly shade, Fit place for death, where naught could life persuade.
CXXIII Well pleased was she with those shadows brown, And yet displeased with luck, with life, with love; There from her steed she lighted, there laid down Her bow and shafts, her arms that helpless prove.
”There lie with shame,” she says, ”disgraced, o'erthrown, Blunt are the weapons, blunt the arms I move, Weak to revenge my harms, or harm my foe, My shafts are blunt, ah, love, would thine were so!
CXXIV Alas, among so many, could not one, Not one draw blood, one wound or rend his skin?
All other b.r.e.a.s.t.s to you are marble stone, Dare you then pierce a woman's bosom thin?
See, see, my naked heart, on this alone Employ your force this fort is eath to win, And love will shoot you from his mighty bow, Weak is the shot that dripile falls in snow.
CXXV ”I pardon will your fear and weakness past, Be strong, mine arrows, cruel, sharp, gainst me, Ah, wretch, how is thy chance and fortune cast, If placed in these thy good and comfort be?
But since all hope is vain all help is waste, Since hurts ease hurts, wounds must cure wounds in thee; Then with thine arrow's stroke cure stroke of love, Death for thy heart must salve and surgeon prove.
CXXVI ”And happy me if, being dead and slain, I bear not with me this strange plague to h.e.l.l: Love, stay behind, come thou with me disdain, And with my wronged soul forever dwell; Or else with it turn to the world again And vex that knight with dreams and visions fell, And tell him, when twixt life and death I strove My last wish, was revenge--last word, was love.”
CXXVII And with that word half mad, half dead, she seems, An arrow, poignant, strong and sharp she took, When her dear knight found her in these extremes, Now fit to die, and pa.s.s the Stygian brook, Now prest to quench her own and beauty's beams; Now death sat on her eyes, death in her look, When to her back he stepped, and stayed her arm Stretched forth to do that service last, last harm.