A hill on which they rallied for a while,
Being there supported by the rising ground.
Then as a whirlwind is unloosed, or falls
A thunderbolt from the offended skies,
The gallant Tancred, to whom Godfred calls,
Couches his lance and to the rescue flies;
XVII.
Porta sì salda la gran lancia, e in guisa
Vien feroce e leggiadro il giovinetto;
Che veggendolo d’alto il Re, s’avvisa
132 Che sia guerriero infra gli scelti eletto.
Onde dice a colei ch’è seco assisa,
E che già sente palpitarsi il petto:
Ben conoscer dei tu per sì lungo uso
136 Ogni Cristian, benchè nell’armi chiuso.
XVII
Mast great the spear was which the gallant bore
That in his warlike pride he made to shake,
As winds tall cedars toss on mountains hoar:
The king, that wondered at his bravery, spake
To her, that near him seated was before,
Who felt her heart with love’s hot fever quake,
“Well shouldst thou know,” quoth he, “each Christian knight,
By long acquaintance, though in armor dight.
XVII.
And bears so firmly its great weight, and seems,
Though young, so brave and graceful in the fight,
That, watching from on high, the tyrant deems
Amid the choicest he’s a chosen knight.
Whence to the maiden at his side he cries
(Whose breast already did strong tremors feel),
‘From such long habit thou must recognise
Each Christian knight, although encased in steel;
XVIII.
Chi è dunque costui che così bene
S’adatta in giostra, e fero in vista è tanto?
A quella, in vece di risposta, viene
140 Su le labra un sospir, su gli occhj il pianto.
Pur gli spirti e le lagrime ritiene,
Ma non così che lor non mostri alquanto:
Chè gli occhj pregni un bel purpureo giro
144 Tinse, e roco spuntò mezzo il sospiro.
XVIII
“Say, who is he shows so great worthiness,
That rides so rank, and bends his lance so fell?”
To this the princess said nor more nor less,
Her heart with sighs, her eyes with tears, did swell;
But sighs and tears she wisely could suppress,
Her love and passion she dissembled well,
And strove her love and hot desire to cover,
Till heart with sighs, and eyes with tears ran over:
XVIII.
‘Who then is he who doth the rest eclipse
In graceful port, and doth so fierce appear?’
Mute was Erminia’s tongue, but to her lips
Sprang a soft sigh, and to her lids a tear:
Though checking somewhat both her tears and sighs,
She still perceptible emotion shows,
Since a red circle stained her pregnant eyes,
And a deep sigh but half suppressed arose.
XIX.
Poi gli dice infingevole, e nasconde
Sotto il manto dell’odio altro desio:
Oimè! bene il conosco, ed ho ben donde
148 Deggia fra mille riconoscerl’io:
Chè spesso il vidi i campi e le profonde
Fosse del sangue empir del popol mio.
Ahi quanto è crudo nel ferire! a piaga
152 Ch’ei faccia, erba non giova, od arte maga.
XIX
At last she spoke, and with a crafty sleight
Her secret love disguised in clothes of hate:
“Alas, too well,” she says, “I know that knight,
I saw his force and courage proved late,
Too late I viewed him, when his power and might
Shook down the pillar of Cassanoe’s state;
Alas what wounds he gives! how fierce, how fell!
No physic helps them cure, nor magic’s spell.
XIX.
Then answered, but equivocating was, —
And other passion hid ‘neath hate’s disguise:
‘Ah me! I know him well, and have good cause
Amid a thousand him to recognise,
Since I have often seen him strew the ground
And fill the trenches with my people’s gore.
Ah me! how cruel are his blows; the wound
He gives, no herb, no magic can restore.
XX.
Egli è il Prence Tancredi: oh prigioniero
Mio fosse un giorno! e nol vorrei già morto:
Vivo il vorrei, perchè’n me desse al fero
156 Desio dolce vendetta alcun conforto.
Così parlava, e de’ suoi detti il vero,
Da chi l’udiva, in altro senso è torto;
E fuor n’uscì con le sue voci estreme
160 Misto un sospir ch’indarno ella già preme.
XX
“Tancred he hight, O Macon, would he wear
My thrall, ere fates him of this life deprive,
For to his hateful head such spite I bear,
I would him reave his cruel heart on live.”
Thus said she, they that her complainings hear
In other sense her wishes credit give.
She sighed withal, they construed all amiss,
And thought she wished to kill, who longed to kiss.
XX.
‘Tancredi is his name. Ah would he were
My captive once! I do not wish him dead;
I want him living, that my fierce desire
By sweet revenge might be alleviated.’
While speaking thus, the truth her language shaped,
Was by the king in other meaning ta’en;
And, mingling with her closing words, escaped
A deep-drawn sigh which she repressed in vain.
XXI.
Clorinda intanto ad incontrar l’assalto
Va di Tancredi, e pon la lancia in resta.
Ferirsi alle visiere, e i tronchi in alto
164 Volaro, e parte nuda ella ne resta:
Chè, rotti i laccj all’elmo suo, d’un salto
(Mirabil colpo!) ei le balzò di testa:
E le chiome dorate al vento sparse,
168 Giovane donna in mezzo ‘l campo apparse.
XXI
This while forth pricked Clorinda from the throng
And ‘gainst Tancredi set her spear in rest,
Upon their helms they cracked their lances long,
And from her head her gilden casque he kest,
For every lace he broke and every thong,
And in the dust threw down her plumed crest,
About her shoulders shone her golden locks,
Like sunny beams, on alabaster rocks.
XXI.
Clorinda, meanwhile, with her lance in rest,
Dashed forth to meet Tancredi. As they closed,
Each struck the other fiercely on the crest,
And by the shock she was in part exposed,
Since rent her helmet’s straps; from off her head
It with a bound (oh, wondrous stroke) did fall,
And as the breeze her golden locks outspread,
A youthful damsel she appeared to all.
XXII.
Lampeggiar gli occhj, e folgorar gli sguardi
Dolci nell’ira, or che sarian nel riso?
Tancredi, a chè pur pensi? a chè pur guardi?
172 Non riconosci tu l’amato viso?
Quest’è pur quel bel volto, onde tutt’ardi:
Tuo core il dica, ov’è il suo esempio inciso:
Questa è colei che rinfrescar la fronte
176 Vedesti già nel solitario fonte.
XXII
Her looks with fire, her eyes with lightning blaze,
Swee
t was her wrath, what then would be her smile?
Tancred, whereon think’st thou? what dost thou gaze?
Hast thou forgot her in so short a while?
The same is she, the shape of whose sweet face
The God of Love did in thy heart compile,
The same that left thee by the cooling stream,
Safe from sun’s heat, but scorched with beauty’s beam.
XXII.
Then flashed her eyes, and shone her lightning glance;
Sweet even in wrath, what were it an she smiled?
What think’st of, Tancred? That fair countenance
Forgettest thou, that so thy heart beguiled?
This is the face that burned thee to the core,
As it — since there its image lives — can tell;
This same is she whom thou beheld’st of yore
Her brow refreshing at the lonely well.
XXIII.
Ei ch’al cimiero, ed al dipinto scudo
Non badò prima, or, lei veggendo, impetra.
Ella, quanto può meglio, il capo ignudo
180 Si ricopre, e l’assale; ed ei s’arretra.
Va contra gli altri, e ruota il ferro crudo;
Ma però da lei pace non impetra;
Che minacciosa il segue, e volgi, grida:
184 E di due morti in un punto lo sfida.
XXIII
The prince well knew her, though her painted shield
And golden helm he had not marked before,
She saved her head, and with her axe well steeled
Assailed the knight; but her the knight forbore,
‘Gainst other foes he proved him through the field,
Yet she for that refrained ne’er the more,
But following, “Turn thee,” cried, in ireful wise;
And so at once she threats to kill him twice.
XXIII.
He who at first had not remarked her crest
And blazoned shield, stood petrified, while she,
Covering her head as best she could, still pressed
The fierce assault; and back retreated he,
And against others whirled his cruel brand,
Yet not the less obtained her grace. She cried,
Him following with loud menace, ‘Turn and stand,’
And to a double death her foe defied.
XXIV.
Percosso il cavalier non ripercote;
Nè sì dal ferro a riguardarsi attende,
Come a guardar i begli occhj e le gote,
188 Ond’Amor l’arco inevitabil tende.
Fra se dicea: van le percosse vote
Talor che la sua destra armata scende:
Ma colpo mai del bello ignudo volto
192 Non cade in fallo, e sempre il cor m’è colto.
XXIV
Not once the baron lifts his armed hand
To strike the maid, but gazing on her eyes,
Where lordly Cupid seemed in arms to stand,
No way to ward or shun her blows he tries;
But softly says, “No stroke of thy strong hand
Can vanquish Tancred, but thy conquest lies
In those fair eyes, which fiery weapons dart,
That find no lighting place except this heart.”
XXIV.
Though struck the knight, he striketh not, nor seeks
So much his personal safety from the foe
As to behold her lovely eyes and cheeks,
Whence Cupid bends his unavoidable bow;
And to himself: ‘Void are at times the blows
That her armed hand delivers, but each dart
Launched from her fair and unarmed features goes
Straight to its goal, and penetrates my heart.’
XXV.
Risolve alfin, benchè pietà non spere,
Di non morir, tacendo, occulto amante.
Vuol ch’ella sappia ch’un prigion suo fere
196 Già inerme, e supplichevole e tremante.
Onde le dice: o tu che mostri avere
Per nemico me sol fra turbe tante,
Usciam di questa mischia; ed in disparte
200 Io potrò teco, e tu meco provarte.
XXV
At last resolved, although he hoped small grace,
Yet ere he did to tell how much he loved,
For pleasing words in women’s ears find place,
And gentle hearts with humble suits are moved:
“O thou,” quoth he, “withhold thy wrath a space,
For if thou long to see my valor proved,
Were it not better from this warlike rout
Withdrawn, somewhere, alone to fight it out?
XXV.
Of pity hopeless, he resolved at length
To tell his passion, nor in silence die,
And let her know she threw away her strength
On one already in captivity;
Whence, ‘Cruel maid, that seem’st to have,’ he cried,
‘Me for thy foe alone of all these swarms,
Retire we from this turmoil, and aside
In mortal strife make trial of our arms:
XXVI.
Così me’ si vedrà s’al tuo s’agguaglia
Il mio valore; ella accettò l’invito:
E come esser senz’elmo a lei non caglia,
204 Gía baldanzosa, ed ei seguia smarrito.
Recata s’era in atto di battaglia
Già la Guerriera, e già l’avea ferito;
Quand’egli, or ferma, disse; e siano fatti
208 Anzi la pugna della pugna i patti.
XXVI
“So singled, may we both our courage try:”
Clorinda to that motion yielded glad,
And helmless to the forestward gan hie,
Whither the prince right pensive wend and sad,
And there the virgin gan him soon defy.
One blow she strucken, and he warded had,
When he cried, “Hold, and ere we prove our might,
First hear thou some conditions of the fight.”
XXVI.
‘Then will be seen if my strength equals thine.’
To his request Clorinda gave assent,
Nor at the loss of helmet did repine,
But boldly she, while he disheartened, went.
Prepared for battle stood the martial maid,
And had already struck the enamoured knight,
When ‘Hold, and let us make,’ Tancredi said,
‘In the first place conditions for the fight.’
XXVII.
Fermossi, e lui di pauroso audace
Rendè in quel punto il disperato amore.
I patti sian, dicea, poichè tu pace
212 Meco non vuoi, che tu mi tragga il core.
Il mio cor, non più mio, s’a te dispiace
Ch’egli più viva, volontario more.
È tuo gran tempo: e tempo è ben che trarlo
216 Omai tu debba; e non debb’io vietarlo:
XXVII
She stayed, and desperate love had made him bold;
“Since from the fight thou wilt no respite give,
The covenants be,” he said, “that thou unfold
This wretched bosom, and my heart out rive,
Given thee long since, and if thou, cruel, would
I should be dead, let me no longer live,
But pierce this breast, that all the world may say,
The eagle made the turtle-dove her prey.
XXVII.
She stayed her arm; wild feelings of despair
A reckless courage to the knight impart.
‘Since,’ he exclaimed, ‘all peace thou dost forswear,
The terms shall be that thou pluck out my heart.
My heart, no more mine own, if not thy will
That it should live, a willing victim dies;
’Tis thine long since, nor is the moment ill
For thee to consummate its sacrifice.
XXV
III.
Ecco, le braccia inchino, e t’appresento
Senza difesa il petto: or che nol fiedi?
Vuoi ch’agevoli l’opra? io son contento
220 Trarmi l’usbergo or or, se nudo il chiedi.
Distinguea forse in più duro lamento
I suoi dolori il misero Tancredi;
Ma calca l’impedisce intempestiva
224 De’ Pagani e de’ suoi che soprarriva.
XXVIII
“Save with thy grace, or let thine anger kill,
Love hath disarmed my life of all defence;
An easy labor harmless blood to spill,
Strike then, and punish where is none offence.”
This said the prince, and more perchance had will
To have declared, to move her cruel sense.
But in ill time of Pagans thither came
A troop, and Christians that pursued the same.
XXVIII.
‘Lo, I cast down my hands and thee present
My breast without defence: why strike not there?
Or shall I ease the task, I am content
To doff my breastplate and my bosom bare.’
Then wretched Tancred in more sad laments
Had told perhaps the story of his woe,
But him the arrival, most ill-timed, prevents,
Of his own troops, and of the Pagan foe.
XXIX.
Cedean cacciati dallo stuol Cristiano
I Palestini, o sia temenza od arte.
228 Un de’ persecutori, uomo inumano,
Videle sventolar le chiome sparte,
E da tergo in passando, alzò la mano
Per ferir lei ne la sua ignuda parte;
232 Ma Tancredi gridò, che se n’accorse,
E con la spada a quel gran colpo accorse.
XXIX
The Pagans fled before their valiant foes,
For dread or craft, it skills not that we know,
A soldier wild, careless to win or lose,
Saw where her locks about the damsel flew,
And at her back he proffereth as he goes
To strike where her he did disarmed view:
But Tancred cried, “Oh stay thy cursed hand,”
And for to ward the blow lift up his brand.
XXIX.
Charged by the Christian host the Syrians yield;
Was it from fear or stratagem designed?
When a barbarian scouring o’er the field
Saw her loose tresses dangling in the wind;
And, passing in the rear, upraised his arm
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