For all his eild, base fear yet never sank;
Five sons he had, the comforts of his days,
That from his side in no adventure shrank,
But long before their time, in iron strong
They clad their members, tender, soft and young.
XXVII.
‘Mong those whose hearts with greatest courage glowed
Was old Latinus, on the Tiber born:
His frame as yet no sign of weakness showed,
Nor was by failing years or toil outworn.
Five gallant sons, his like, alongside him,
Whene’er he went to battle, kept their places,
Loading with armour, long before their time,
Their limbs still growing, and their beardless faces;
XXVIII.
Ed eccitati dal paterno esempio
Aguzzavano al sangue il ferro, e l’ire.
Dice egli loro: andianne ove quell’empio
220 Veggiam ne’ fuggitivi insuperbire.
Nè già ritardi il sanguinoso scempio,
Ch’ei fa degli altri, in voi l’usato ardire:
Perocchè quello, o figlj, è vile onore,
224 Cui non adorni alcun passato orrore.
XXVIII
The bold ensample of their father’s might
Their weapons whetted and their wrath increased,
“Come let us go,” quoth he, “where yonder knight
Upon our soldiers makes his bloody feast,
Let not their slaughter once your hearts affright,
Where danger most appears, there fear it least,
For honor dwells in hard attempts, my sons,
And greatest praise, in greatest peril, wons.”
XXVIII.
And by example of their sire inflamed,
Their swords and anger sharpened had for blood.
‘Come boys, where you Unfaithful,’ he exclaimed,
‘Pursues our friends in such exulting mood;
Nor let the carnage he creates restrain
The daring spirit ye have always borne:
For they, my sons, but worthless honour gain,
Unless past horrors the emprise adorn.’
XXIX.
Così feroce leonessa i figlj,
Cui dal collo la coma anco non pende,
Nè con gli anni lor sono i feri artiglj
228 Cresciuti, e l’arme della bocca orrende,
Mena seco alla preda, ed ai periglj:
E con l’esempio a incrudelir gli accende
Nel cacciator che le natíe lor selve
232 Turba, e fuggir fa le men forti belve.
XXIX
Her tender brood the forest’s savage queen,
Ere on their crests their rugged manes appear,
Before their mouths by nature armed been,
Or paws have strength a silly lamb to tear,
So leadeth forth to prey, and makes them keen,
And learns by her ensample naught to fear
The hunter, in those desert woods that takes
The lesser beasts whereon his feast he makes.
XXIX.
Thus her young cubs bloodthirsty lioness
To rapine leads, and peril o’er the plains,
Ere nature’s arms their horrid jaws possess,
Ere cruel claws they have, or shaggy manes:
She, by her own, inflames their savage moods
Against the hunter, who imperiously
Disturbs the quiet of their native woods,
Making from thence their weaker tenants fly.
XXX.
Segue il buon genitor l’incauto stuolo
De’ cinque, e Solimano assale e cinge:
E in un sol punto, un sol consiglio e un solo
236 Spirito quasi, sei lunghe aste spinge.
Ma troppo audace il suo maggior figliuolo
L’asta abbandona, e con quel fier si stringe;
E tenta invan, con la pungente spada,
240 Che sotto il corridor morto gli cada.
XXX
The noble father and his hardy crew
Fierce Solyman on every side invade,
At once all six upon the Soldan flew,
With lances sharp, and strong encounters made,
His broken spear the eldest boy down threw,
And boldly, over-boldly, drew his blade,
Wherewith he strove, but strove therewith in vain,
The Pagan’s steed, unmarked, to have slain.
XXX.
The imprudent five accompany their sire,
And linked together, Solyman assail,
When, in a single moment, one desire,
One thought almost doth six long spears impel;
But far too bold the eldest, undismayed,
Flings down his lance, and closes with his foe,
And tries, but vainly, with his trenchant blade
To lay the soldant powerful charger low.
XXXI.
Ma come alle procelle esposto monte,
Che percosso dai flutti al mar sovraste,
Sostien fermo in se stesso i tuoni, e l’onte
244 Del Cielo irato, e i venti, e l’onde vaste;
Così il fero Soldan l’audace fronte
Tien salda incontro ai ferri, e incontro all’aste:
Ed a colui, che ‘l suo destrier percuote,248Tra i ciglj parte il capo, e tra le gote.
XXXI
But as a mountain or a cape of land
Assailed with storms and seas on every side,
Doth unremoved, steadfast, still withstand
Storm, thunder, lightning, tempest, wind, and tide:
The Soldan so withstood Latinus’ band,
And unremoved did all their justs abide,
And of that hapless youth, who hurt his steed,
Down to the chin he cleft in twain the head.
XXXI.
But, as a storm bound cliff, which proudly soars
O’er the vexed ocean that beneath it raves,
Firm in itself sustains the rage that pours
From angered heaven, the thunder, and the waves;
So his audacious front preserved that Brave
Unmoved against the swords, against the spears,
And of the youth who struck his charger, clave
The skull between the eyebrows and the ears.
XXXII.
Aramante al fratel, che giù ruina,
Porge pietoso il braccio e lo sostiene:
Vana e folle pietà, ch’alla ruina
252 Altrui la sua medesma a giunger viene:
Chè ‘l Pagan su quel braccio il ferro inchina,
Ed atterra con lui chi a lui s’attiene.
Caggiono entrambi, e l’un sull’altro langue,
256 Mescolando i sospiri ultimi, e ‘l sangue.
XXXII
Kind Aramante, who saw his brother slain,
To hold him up stretched forth his friendly arm,
Oh foolish kindness, and oh pity vain,
To add our proper loss, to other’s harm!
The prince let fall his sword, and cut in twain
About his brother twined, the child’s weak arm.
Down from their saddles both together slide,
Together mourned they, and together died.
XXXII.
Fond Amaranté, with compassionate ruth,
Flew to support his brother, thus struck down;
But idle was the pity of the youth,
That added to another’s death his own,
Since on his arm down fell the Pagan’s sword,
And sent the pair conjoined to early death.
Prostrate they sank, and on each other poured
Their blood, commingled with their parting breath.
XXXIII.
Quinci egli, di Sabin l’asta recisa,
Onde il fanciullo di lontan l’infesta,
Gli urta il cavallo addosso, e ‘l coglie in guisa,
260 Che giù t
remante il batte: indi il calpesta.
Dal giovinetto corpo uscì divisa
Con gran contrasto l’alma, e lasciò mesta
L’aure soavi della vita, e i giorni
264 Della tenera età lieti ed adorni.
XXXIII
That done, Sabino’s lance with nimble force
He cut in twain, and ‘gainst the stripling bold
He spurred his steed, that underneath his horse
The hardy infant tumbled on the mould,
Whose soul, out squeezed from his bruised corpse,
With ugly painfulness forsook her hold,
And deeply mourned that of so sweet a cage
She left the bliss, and joys of youthful age.
XXXIII.
Then having cut Sabino’s lance in two,
Which from afar had galled him, in pursuit
Of the rash boy he pricked his destrier, who
Caught him, struck down, and trampled under foot;
From his young frame the struggling spirit flies
With many a pang, thus prematurely torn
From life’s sweet-smelling gales and halcyon skies,
And the gay golden prime of boyhood’s mom.
XXXIV.
Rimanean vivi ancor Pico, e Laurente,
Onde arricchì un sol parto il genitore:
Similissima coppia, e che sovente
268 Esser solea cagion di dolce errore.
Ma se lei fè Natura indifferente,
Differente or la fa l’ostil furore.
Dura distinzion, ch’all’un divide
272 Dal busto il collo, all’altro il petto incide.
XXXIV
But Picus yet and Lawrence were on live,
Whom at one birth their mother fair brought out,
A pair whose likeness made the parents strive
Oft which was which, and joyed in their doubt:
But what their birth did undistinguished give,
The Soldan’s rage made known, for Picus stout
Headless at one huge blow he laid in dust,
And through the breast his gentle brother thrust.
XXXIV.
Still living Pico and Laurenté were,
Who, twin-born, made their father doubly rich,
And often caused (so like the youthful pair)
A pleasing error as to which was which;
But if fair Nature made this couple one,
A hard disunion hostile fury made:
This through the bosom the fierce soldan run,
That in the dust a headless carcase laid.
XXXV.
Il padre (ah non più padre! ahi fera sorte,
Ch’orbo di tanti figlj a un punto il face!)
Rimira in cinque morti or la sua morte,
276 E della stirpe sua che tutta giace.
Nè so come vecchiezza abbia sì forte
Nelle atroci miserie, e sì vivace,
Che spiri e pugni ancor: ma gli atti, e i visi
280 Non mirò forse de’ figliuoli uccisi.
XXXV
Their father, but no father now, alas!
When all his noble sons at once were slain,
In their five deaths so often murdered was,
I know not how his life could him sustain,
Except his heart were forged of steel or brass,
Yet still he lived, pardie, he saw not plain
Their dying looks, although their deaths he knows,
It is some ease not to behold our woes.
XXXV.
The wretched father (father now no more,
Since of so many sons at once deprived!)
In their five deaths beheld his own; that hour
Robbed him of all, no scion how survived.
Nor know I how, amid such agony,
Old age could breathe, much less still battle on
Against such odds; perhaps he did not see
The look and struggles of each dying son;
XXXVI.
E di sì acerbo lutto agli occhj sui
Parte l’amiche tenebre celaro.
Contuttociò nulla sarebbe a lui,
284 Senza perder se stesso, il vincer caro.
Prodigo del suo sangue, e dell’altrui
Avidissimamente è fatto avaro:
Nè si conosce ben qual suo desire
288 Paja maggior, l’uccidere o ‘l morire.
XXXVI
He wept not, for the night her curtain spread
Between his cause of weeping and his eyes,
But still he mourned and on sharp vengeance fed,
And thinks he conquers, if revenged he dies;
He thirsts the Soldan’s heathenish blood to shed,
And yet his own at less than naught doth prize,
Nor can he tell whether he liefer would,
Or die himself, or kill the Pagan bold.
XXXVI.
Perhaps that bitter pang the friendly night
Concealed in mercy from the old man’s view;
Still him no hard-earned triumph could requite:
His sons had perished; he would perish too.
Of his own blood hence lavish grew the sire,
And madly coveted his foe’s to drain;
Nor know I which was greater, his desire
To slay the soldan, or himself be slain.
XXXVII.
Ma grida al suo nemico: è dunque frale
Sì questa mano, e in guisa ella si sprezza,
Che con ogni suo sforzo ancor non vale
292 A provocare in me la tua fierezza?
Tace, e percossa tira aspra e mortale
Che le piastre e le maglie insieme spezza,
E sul fianco gli cala e vi fa grande
296 Piaga, onde il sangue tepido si spande.
XXXVII
At last, “Is this right hand,” quoth he, “so weak,
That thou disdain’st gainst me to use thy might?
Can it naught do? can this tongue nothing speak
That may provoke thine ire, thy wrath and spite?”
With that he struck, his anger great to wreak,
A blow, that pierced the mail and metal bright,
And in his flank set ope a floodgate wide,
Whereat the blood out streamed from his side.
XXXVII.
At length he shouted out: ‘Is, then, so frail
This arm of mine that you despise its stroke?
That ev’n its greatest efforts can’t avail
‘Gainst me your innate fierceness to provoke?’
This said, he dealt him a terrific blow
That through chain armour and steel corslet tore,
A wound inflicting on his haughty foe,
From which outspuited streams of tepid gore.
XXXVIII.
A quel grido, a quel colpo, in lui converse
Il barbaro crudel la spada e l’ira.
Gli aprì l’usbergo, e pria lo scudo aperse,
300 Cui sette volte un duro cuojo aggira:
E ‘l ferro nelle viscere gl’immerse.
Il misero Latin singhiozza e spira,
E con vomito alterno or gli trabocca
304 Il sangue per la piaga, or per la bocca.
XXXVIII
Provoked with his cry, and with that blow,
The Turk upon him gan his blade discharge,
He cleft his breastplate, having first pierced through,
Lined with seven bulls’ hides, his mighty targe,
And sheathed his weapons in his guts below;
Wretched Latinus at that issue large,
And at his mouth, poured out his vital blood,
And sprinkled with the same his murdered brood.
XXXVIII.
His sword and ire the fell barbarian steeled
Against Latinus at that cry, that wound;
And pierced his hauberk, having pierced his shield,
Tho’ it with toughest hide was seven times bound,
&nb
sp; Then in his bowels plunged his vengeful sword.
The wretched father gave one gasp and died,
While now from mouth and now from wound outpoured
In flow alternate an ensanguined tide.
XXXIX.
Come nell’Apennin robusta pianta,
Che sprezzò d’Euro e d’Aquilon la guerra,
Se turbo inusitato alfin la schianta,
308 Gli alberi intorno ruinando atterra;
Così cade egli, e la sua furia è tanta,
Che più d’un seco tragge, a cui s’afferra.
E ben d’uom sì feroce è degno fine,
312 Che faccia ancor, morendo, alte ruine.
XXXIX
On Apennine like as a sturdy tree,
Against the winds that makes resistance stout,
If with a storm it overturned be,
Falls down and breaks the trees and plants about;
So Latine fell, and with him felled he
And slew the nearest of the Pagans’ rout,
A worthy end, fit for a man of fame,
That dying, slew; and conquered, overcame.
XXXIX.
As in the Apennines an oak, whose strength
Long scorned the war of north and eastern breeze,
Uprooted by unusual storm at length,
Drags in one common wreck the neighbouring trees;
So fell Latinus, and so furious was,
That with him he dragged numbers to the ground.
Fit end, that one so violent should cause,
Ev’n dying, ruinous destruction round.
XL.
Mentre il Soldan sfogando l’odio interno
Pasce un lungo digiun ne’ corpi umani;
Gli Arabi inanimiti aspro governo
316 Anch’essi fanno de’ guerrier Cristiani.
L’Inglese Enrico, e ‘l Bavaro Oliferno
Muojono, o fer Dragutte, alle tue mani.
A Gilberto, a Filippo, Ariadeno
320 Toglie la vita, i quai nacquer sul Reno.
XL
Meanwhile the Soldan strove his rage
To satisfy with blood of Christian spilled,
The Arabians heartened by their captain stern,
With murder every tent and cabin filled,
Henry the English knight, and Olipherne,
O fierce Draguto, by thy hands were killed!
Gilbert and Philip were by Ariadene
Both slain, both born upon the banks of Rhone.
XL.
While thus exhaling his internal hate,
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