To Solyman, that fought close by his side:
LXII
As thus he spoke, the infuriate cavalier
Worked himself up to such a pitch of rage,
That the ample city’s boundaries appear
For his great daring insufficient stage;
With mighty strides he therefore rushes where
The open breach gave access to the walls,
Blocks up the passage, and, with taunting air,
To Solymano, who stood near him, calls:
LXIII.
Solimano, ecco il loco, ed ecco l’ora
Che del nostro valor giudice fia.
Chè cessi? o di chè temi? or costà fuora
500 Cerchi il pregio sovran chi più ‘l desia.
Così gli disse; e l’uno e l’altro allora
Precipitosamente a prova uscia:
L’un da furor, l’altro da onor rapito,
504 E stimolato dal feroce invito.
LXIII
“Come, Solyman, the time and place behold,
That of our valors well may judge the doubt,
What sayest thou? amongst these Christians bold,
First leap he forth that holds himself most stout:”
While thus his will the mighty champion told,
Both Solyman and he at once leaped out,
Fury the first provoked, disdain the last,
Who scorned the challenge ere his lips it passed.
LXIII
‘Behold the place and moment to decide
Our valour, Solyman, ‘mid yonder host
Why cease? what fearest? There, the walls outside,
Let him the laurel seek that craves it most’
Thus spoke: and both, without an instant’s pause,
Rushed vying to the open field, inspired
One by blind fury, one by honour’s laws,
And the fierce challenge of his rival, fired.
LXIV.
Giunsero inaspettati ed improvvisi
Sovra i nemici, e in paragon mostrarsi:
E da lor tanti fur uomini uccisi,
508 E scudi ed elmi dissipati e sparsi,
E scale tronche, ed arieti incisi;
Che di lor parve quasi un monte farsi:
E mescolati alle ruine alzaro,
512 In vece del caduto, alto riparo.
LXIV
Upon their foes unlooked-for they flew,
Each spited other for his virtue’s sake,
So many soldiers this fierce couple slew,
So many shields they cleft and helms they break,
So many ladders to the earth they threw,
That well they seemed a mount thereof to make,
Or else some vamure fit to save the town,
Instead of that the Christians late beat down.
LXIV
Sudden and unexpectedly the twain
Flashed on the foe, by emulation buoyed;
Then were such heaps of Christian soldiers slain,
Such shields and helmets scattered and destroyed,
Such ladders broken, and such rams cut down,
That to a mountain they appeared to swell,
Forming upon the ruins of the town
Another wall, in place of that which fell.
LXV.
La gente che pur dianzi ardì salire
Al pregio eccelso di mural corona,
Non ch’or d’entrar nella Cittate aspire,
516 Ma sembra alle difese anco mal buona:
E cede al novo assalto, e in preda all’ire
De’ due guerrier le machine abbandona:
Ch’ad altra guerra omai saran mal’atte;
520 Tanto è ‘l furor che le percuote e batte!
LXV
The folk that strove with rage and haste before
Who first the wall and rampire should ascend,
Retire, and for that honor strive no more,
Scantly they could their limbs and lives defend,
They fled, their engines lost the Pagans tore
In pieces small, their rams to naught they rend,
And all unfit for further service make
With so great force and rage their beams they brake.
LXV
And those who thought to mount the breach, and gain
The glorious premium of a mural crown,
No more aspire an entrance to obtain;
Nay, seem ev’n ill prepared to hold their own,
And to this new and fierce attack give way,
The engines leaving to their powerful foes,
But little fit for further service, they
So battered were by their infuriate blows.
LXVI.
L’uno e l’altro Pagan, come il trasporta
L’impeto suo, già più e più trascorre.
Già ‘l foco chiede ai cittadini, e porta
524 Due pini fiammeggianti inver la torre.
Cotali uscir dalla tartarea porta
Sogliono, e sottosopra il mondo porre,
Le ministre di Pluto empie sorelle,
528 Lor ceraste scuotendo e lor facelle.
LXVI
The Pagans ran transported with their ire,
Now here, now there, and woful slaughters wrought,
At last they called for devouring fire,
Two burning pines against the tower they brought,
So from the palace of their hellish sire,
When all this world they would consume to naught,
The fury sisters come with fire in hands,
Shaking their snaky locks and sparkling brands:
LXVI
Transported by their impetus, the pair
On, ever on, in wider circuits scour;
Call to the citizens for fire, and bear
Two blazing pines against the dreaded tower.
So rush the Furies, from hell’s fiery porch,
To upset the world; so each gaunt sister shakes,
In Pluto’s service, her far flaring torch,
And throws aloft her wreaths of hornèd snakes.
LXVII.
Ma l’invitto Tancredi, il quale altrove
Confortava all’assalto i suoi Latini,
Tosto che vide le incredibil prove,
532 E la gemina fiamma, e i due gran pini:
Tronca in mezzo le voci, e presto move
A frenar il furor de’ Saracini.
E tal del suo valor dà segno orrendo,
536 Che chi vinse e fugò, fugge or perdendo.
LXVII
But noble Tancred, who this while applied
Grave exhortations to his bold Latines,
When of these knights the wondrous acts he spied,
And saw the champions with their burning pines,
He left his talk, and thither forthwith hied,
To stop the rage of those fell Saracines.
And with such force the fight he there renewed,
That now they fled and lost who late pursued.
LXVII
But the unconquered Tancred, who, elsewhere,
Cheered on his Latins ‘gainst the Saracens,
Of the bold deed no sooner was aware,
And saw the double flame, the two great pines,
Than, cutting short his words, he quickly moved
To check the havoc which the Pagans spread;
And so significantly his prowess proved,
That the late victors, vanquished, turned and fled.
LXVIII.
Così della battaglia or quì lo stato
Col variar della fortuna è volto;
E in questo mezzo il Capitan piagato
540 Nella gran tenda sua già s’è raccolto,
Col buon Sigier, con Baldovino a lato,
Di mesti amici in gran concorso e folto.
Ei che s’affretta, e di tirar s’affanna
544 Della piaga lo stral, rompe la canna.
LXVIII
Thus changed the state and fortune of
the fray,
Meanwhile the wounded duke, in grief and teen,
Within his great pavilion rich and gay,
Good Sigiere and Baldwin stood between;
His other friends whom his mishap dismay,
With grief and tears about assembled been:
He strove in haste the weapon out to wind,
And broke the reed, but left the head behind.
LXVIII
Thus with the turn of varying Fortune, turned
The varying chances of the doubtful fray.
Meanwhile, tho’ inly for the fight he burned,
In his great tent, the wounded captain lay:
Baldwin was there, and good Sigier, nor lacked
Of sorrowing friends a sympathising train;
But, as he strove from out his leg to extract
The iron barb, he broke the brittle cane.
LXIX.
E la via più vicina e più spedita
Alla cura di lui vuol che si prenda:
Scoprasi ogni latébra alla ferita,
548 E largamente si risechi e fenda.
Rimandatemi in guerra, onde finita
Non sia col dì, prima ch’a lei mi renda.
Così dice; e premendo il lungo cerro
552 D’una gran lancia, offre la gamba al ferro.
LXIX
He bade them take the speediest way they might,
Of that unlucky hurt to make him sound,
And to lay ope the depth thereof to sight,
He willed them open, search and lance the wound,
“Send me again,” quoth he, “to end this fight,
Before the sun be sunken under ground;”
And leaning on a broken spear, he thrust
His leg straight out, to him that cure it must.
LXIX
Then, the most short and expeditious way
To effect a cure, he bade the leeches take,
That to the bottom they should open lay
The wound, and wide and deep incisions make:
‘Send, send me back,’ he cried, ‘that I may share,
Ere day is o’er, the glories of the strife.’
He ceased, and, leaning on a massy spear,
His leg stretched out to the physician’s knife.
LXX.
E già l’antico Erotimo, che nacque
In riva al Po, s’adopra in sua salute:
Il qual dell’erbe e delle nobil’ acque
556 Ben conosceva ogni uso, ogni virtute:
Caro alle Muse ancor; ma si compiacque
Nella gloria minor dell’arti mute:
Sol curò torre a morte i corpi frali,
560 E potea far i nomi anco immortali.
LXX
Erotimus, born on the banks of Po,
Was he that undertook to cure the knight,
All what green herbs or waters pure could do,
He knew their power, their virtue, and their might,
A noble poet was the man also,
But in this science had a more delight,
He could restore to health death-wounded men,
And make their names immortal with his pen.
LXX
To aid him came hoar Erotimus, who
Was born beside the Po; the healing power
Of every noble water he well knew,
And latent virtue of each herb and flower.
Dear to the Muses, still the sage preferred
The minor glory of his voiceless art;
He, who to snatch from death frail man but cared,
To names could immortality impart
LXXI.
Stassi appoggiato, e con sicura faccia
Freme immobile al pianto il Capitano.
Quegli in gonna succinto, e dalle braccia
564 Ripiegato il vestir leggiero e piano,
Or con l’erbe potenti in van procaccia
Trarne lo strale, or con la dotta mano:
E con la destra il tenta, e col tenace
568 Ferro il va riprendendo, e nulla face.
LXXI
The mighty duke yet never changed cheer,
But grieved to see his friends lamenting stand;
The leech prepared his cloths and cleansing gear,
And with a belt his gown about him band,
Now with his herbs the steely head to tear
Out of the flesh he proved, now with his hand,
Now with his hand, now with his instrument
He shaked and plucked it, yet not forth it went.
LXXI
The chief, whose rigid look showed no alarm,
Supported stands, and frets, unmoved to tears,
While, with his tunic tucked up o’er his arm,
And robe succinct, the leech still perseveres,
Now with skilled hand, now with strong herbs, to start
The imbedded steel; then tries and tries again;
With nipping pincers, to extract the dart,
But can’t succeed — his labour is in vain.
LXXII.
L’arti sue non seconda, ed al disegno
Par che per nulla via Fortuna arrida:
E nel piagato Eroe giunge a tal segno
572 L’aspro martir, che n’è quasi omicida.
Or quì l’Angel custode, al duol indegno
Mosso di lui, colse dittamo in Ida:
Erba crinita di purpureo fiore,
576 Ch’have in giovani foglie alto valore.
LXXII
His labor vain, his art prevailed naught,
His luck was ill, although his skill were good,
To such extremes the wounded prince he brought,
That with fell pain he swooned as he stood:
But the angel pure, that kept him, went and sought
Divine dictamnum, out of Ida wood,
This herb is rough, and bears a purple flower,
And in his budding leaves lies all his power.
LXXII
In no way Fortune aids him: she would seem
Her smiles, from his endeavours, to withdraw.
Meanwhile becomes his anguish so extreme,
That in it they almost his death foresaw;
But touched, his guardian angel, in that hour,
Culled upon Ida’s sides fresh dittany,
A crested plant that bears a purple flower,
In whose young leaves a thousand virtues lie.
LXXIII.
E ben mastra Natura alle montane
Capre n’insegna la virtù celata,
Qualor vengon percosse, e lor rimane
580 Nel fianco affissa la saetta alata.
Ouesta, benchè da parti assai lontane,
In un momento l’Angelo ha recata:
E, non veduto, entro le mediche onde
584 Degli apprestati bagni il succo infonde.
LXXIII
Kind nature first upon the craggy clift
Bewrayed this herb unto the mountain goat,
That when her sides a cruel shaft hath rift,
With it she shakes the reed out of her coat;
This in a moment fetched the angel swift,
And brought from Ida hill, though far remote,
The juice whereof in a prepared bath
Unseen the blessed spirit poured hath.
LXXIII
Well mother Nature to the mountain goats
Teaches the hidden virtue it contains,
When, stricken thro’ their soft and shaggy coats,
Deep in their sides the feathered shaft remains.
This, tho’ in regions far remote it grew,
Plucked in a moment his good angel hath,
And, unperceived, its healing juices threw
In the prepared and medicated bath.
LXXIV.
E del fonte di Lidia i sacri umori,
E l’odorata panacea vi mesce.
Ne sparge il vecchio la ferita, e fuori
588 Volontario per se lo stral se n’esce,
E si ristagna il sangue: e già i dolori
Fuggono dalla gamba, e ‘l vigor cresce.
Grida Erotimo allor: l’arte maestra
592 Te non risana, o la mortal mia destra;
LXXIV
Pure nectar from that spring of Lydia than,
And panaces divine therein he threw,
The cunning leech to bathe the wound began,
And of itself the steely head outflew;
The bleeding stanched, no vermile drop outran,
The leg again waxed strong with vigor new:
Erotimus cried out, “This hurt and wound
No human art or hand so soon makes sound:
LXXIV
And holy lymph in Lydia’s fountain found,
And panacea in the water poured,
Which the sage sprinkling on the captain’s wound,
The arrow issued of its own accord.
Staunched is the blood, the deadly pains depart
From out his leg, his strength returns, he stands:
Then Erotimus cried: ‘No master art
Hath thee restored, nor these poor mortal hands!
LXXV.
Maggior virtù ti salva: un Angel, credo,
Medico per te fatto, è sceso in terra;
Chè di celeste mano i segni vedo:
596 Prendi l’arme (che tardi?) e riedi in guerra.
Avido di battaglia il pio Goffredo
Già nell’ostro le gambe avvolge e serra:
E l’asta crolla smisurata, e imbraccia
600 Il già deposto scudo, e l’elmo allaccia.
LXXV
“Some angel good I think come down from skies
Thy surgeon is, for here plain tokens are
Of grace divine which to thy help applies,
Thy weapon take and haste again to war.”
In precious cloths his leg the chieftain ties,
Naught could the man from blood and fight debar;
A sturdy lance in his right hand he braced,
His shield he took, and on his helmet laced:
LXXV
‘A greater power thee saves: At God’s command
Came here an angel, made for thee a leech;
I see the signs of his celestial hand.
Arm! arm! Why pause? Arm, arm, and mount the breach.’
Greedy for fight, the pious cavalier
Round his healed leg his crimson cuishes clasped,
Brandished aloft his formidable spear,
Laced up his helm, and shield abandoned grasped;
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