CVIII With old Sobrino, on the left of Seine, Pulian and Dardinel d'Almontes meet, With Oran's giant king, to swell the train: Six cubits is the prince, from head to feet.

But why move I my pen with greater pain Than these men move their arms? for in his heat King Rodomont exclaims, blaspheming sore, Nor can contain his furious spirit more.

CIX As swarming to a.s.sail the pastoral bowl, With sound of stridulous wing, through summer sky, Or relics of a feast, their luscious dole, Repair the ready numbers of the fly; As starlings to the vineyard's crimsoning pole With the ripe cl.u.s.ters charged, -- heaven's concave high Filling, as they advanced, with noise and shout, Fast hurried to the storm the Moorish rout.

CX Upon their walls the Christians in array, With lance, sword, axe, and wild-fire tost, The a.s.saulted city guard without dismay, And little reck the proud barbarian's boast: Nor when death s.n.a.t.c.hes this or that away, Does any one in fear refuse his post.

Into the fosse below the paynim foes Return, amid a storm of strokes and blows.

CXI Nor in this was is iron plied alone, But mighty ma.s.ses and whole bulwarks fall, And top of tower, huge piece of bastion, And with much toil disrupted, solid wall; While streams of boiling water pouring down, Insufferably the advancing paynims gall: An ill-resisted rain, which, in despite Of helmet, makes its way, and blinds the sight.

CXII And this than iron spear offended more: Then how much more the mist of lime-dust fine!

Then how the emptied vessel, burning sore With nitre, sulphur, pitch, and turpentine!

Nor idle lie the fiery hoops in store, Which, wreathed about with flaming tresses, shine.

These at the foemen scaled, upon all hands, Form cruel garlands for the paynim bands.

CXIII Meanwhile, up to the walls the second crew Fierce Sarza's king was driven, accompanied By bold Orlando and Buraldo, who The Garamantes and Marmonda guide; Clarindo and Loridano; nor from view, It seems, will Setta's valiant monarch hide: Morocco's king and he of Cosco go With these, that men their martial worth may know.

CXIV With crimson Rodomont his banner stains, And in the vermeil field a lion shows; Who, bitted by a maid, to curb and reins His savage mouth disdains not to unclose.

Himself in the submissive lion feigns The haughty Rodomont, and would suppose In her who curbs him with the bit and string, Doralice, daughter to Grenada's king;

CXV Whom Mandricardo took, as I before Related, and from whom, and in what wise.

Even she it was, whom Sarza's monarch more Loved than his realm, -- beyond his very eyes: And valour showed for her and courteous lore, Not knowing yet she was another's prize.

If he had, -- then, -- then, first, -- the story known, Even what he did that day, he would have done.

CXVI At once the foes a thousand ladders rear.

Against the wall by the a.s.sailants sh.o.r.ed, Two mannered each round; the second, in the rear, Urged on by the first; the third the second gored.

One mounts the wall through valour, one through fear, And all attempt perforce the dangerous ford; For cruel Rodomont of Argier slays Or smites the wretched laggard who delays.

CXVII 'Tis thus, 'mid fire and ruin, all a.s.say To mount the wall; but others to a.s.sure Themselves, some safer pa.s.sage seek, where they Will have least pain and peril to endure.

Rodomont only scorns by any way To wend, except by what is least secure; And in that desperate case, where others made Their offerings, cursed the G.o.d to whom they prayed.

CXVIII He in a cuira.s.s, hard and strong, was drest; A dragon-skin it was with scaly quilt, Which erst secured the manly back and breast Of his bold ancestor, that Babel built; Who hoped the rule of heaven from G.o.d to wrest, And him would from his golden dome have split.

Perfect, and for this end alone, were made Helmet and shield as well as trenchant blade.

CXIX Nor Rodomont to Nimrod yields in might, Proud and untamed; and who would not forbear To scale the lofty firmament till night, Could he in this wide world descry the stair.

He stood not, he, to mark the bulwark's plight Nor if the fosse of certain bottom were.

He past, ran, -- rather flew across the moat, Plunging in filth and water to his throat.

CXX Dripping and foul with water and with weeds, 'Mid fire and stone, and arbalests, and bows, On drives the chief; as through the marshy reeds, The wild-swine of our own Mallea goes; Who makes large day-light wheresoe'er he speeds, Parting the sedge with breast and tusk and nose.

The paynim, safe in buckler lifted high, Scorns not the wall alone, but braves the sky.

CXXI Rodomont has no sooner gained the sh.o.r.e, Than on the wooden bartizan he stands, Within the city walls, a bridge that bore (Roomy and large) king Charles's Christian bands.

Here many a scull is riven, here men take more Than monkish tonsure at the warrior's hands: Heads fly and arms; and to the ditch a flood Runs streaming from the wall of crimson blood.

CXXII He drops the shield; and with two-handed sway Wielding his sword, duke Arnulph he offends.

Who came from whence, into the briny bay, The water of the rapid Rhine descends.

No better than the sulphur keeps away The advancing flame, the wretch his life defends.

He his last shudder gives, and tumbles dead; Cleft downwards, a full palm from neck and head.

CXXIII At one back-stroke sir Spineloccio true, Anselmo, Prando, and Oldrado fell; The narrow place and thickly-swarming crew Make the wide-circling blow so fully tell.

The first half Flemings were, the residue Are Normans, who the list of slaughter swell.

Orghetto of Maganza, he from brow To breast divides, and thence to paunch below.

CXXIV Down from the wall Andropono and Moschine He cast into the ditch: a priest the first; The second, but a worshipper of wine, Drained, at a draught, whole runlets in his thirst; Aye wonted simple water to decline, Like viper's blood or venom: now immersed In this, he perishes amid that slaughter; And, what breeds most affliction, dies by water.

CXXV Lewis the Provencal is cleft in two; Arnold of Thoulouse through the breast before; Hubert of Tours, sir Dionysius, Hugh, And Claud, pour forth their ghosts in reeking gore.

Odo, Ambaldo, Satallon ensue, And Walter next; of Paris are the four -- With others, that by me unmentioned fall, Who cannot tell the name and land of all.

CXXVI The crowd, by Rodomont of Sarza led, The ladders lift, and many places scale.

Here the Parisians make no further head, Who find their first defense of small avail Full well they know that danger more to dread Within awaits the foemen who a.s.sail; Because between the wall and second mound A fosse descends, wide, horrid, and profound.

CXXVII Besides, that ours, with those upon the height, War from below, like valiant men and stout, New files succeed to those who fall in fight, Where, on the interior summit, stand the rout, Who gall with lances, and a whistling flight Of darts, the mighty mult.i.tude without; Many of whom, I ween, that post would shun, If it were not for royal Ulien's son.

CXXVIII But he still heartened some, and chid the rest, And forced them forward to their sore alarm.

One paynim's head he cleft, and other's breast, Who turned about to fly; and of the swarm Some shoved and pushed and to the encounter prest, Close-grappled by the collar, hair, or arm: And downwards from the wall such numbers threw, The ditch was all to narrow for the crew.

CXXIX While so the foes descend, or rather fling Themselves into the perilous profound; And thence by many ladders try to spring Upon the summit of the second mound, King Rodomont, as if he had a wing Upon his every member, from the ground Upraised his weight, and vaulted clean across, Loaded with all his arms, the yawning fosse.

Cx.x.x The moat of thirty feet, not less, he cleared, As dexterously as leaps the greyhound fleet, Nor at his lighting louder noise was heard Than if he had worn felt beneath his feet.

He now of this, now that, the mantle sheared; As though of pewter, not of iron beat, Or rather of soft rind their arms had been: So matchless was his force and sword so keen!

Cx.x.xI This while, not idle, those of ours had laid Snares in the inner moat, a well-charged mine: Where broom and thick fascines, all over paid With swarthy pitch, in plenty intertwine.

Though they from bank to bank that hollow line, Filling the bottom well-nigh to the brink; And countless vessels the defenders sink.

Cx.x.xII Charged with salt-petre, oil, or sulphur pale, One and the other, or with such like gear; While ours, intent the paynims that a.s.sail The town, should pay their daring folly dear, (Who from the ditch on different parts would scale The inner bulwark's platform) when they hear The appointed signal which their comrades raise, Set, at fit points, the wildfire in a blaze.

Cx.x.xIII For that the moat was full from side to side, The scattered flames united into one, And mounted to such height, they well-nigh dried The watery bosom of the moon; a dun And dismal cloud above extending wide, Dimmed every glimpse of light, and hid the sun: A fearful crash, with a continued sound, Like a long peal of thunder, shook the ground.

Cx.x.xIV A horrid concert, a rude harmony Of deep lament, and yell and shriek, which came From those poor wretches in extremity, Perishing through their furious leader's blame, Was heard, as in strange concord, to agree With the fierce crackling of the murderous flame.

No more of this, no more! -- Here, sir, I close My canto, hoa.r.s.e, and needing short repose.

CANTO 15

ARGUMENT Round about Paris every where are spread The a.s.sailing hosts of Africa and Spain.

Astolpho home by Logistilla sped, Binds first Caligorantes with his chain; Next from Orrilo's trunk divides the head; With whom Sir Aquilant had warred in vain, And Gryphon bold: next Sansonet discerns, Ill tidings of his lady Gryphon learns.

I Though Conquest fruit of skill or fortune be, To conquer always is a glorious thing.

'Tis true, indeed, a b.l.o.o.d.y victory Is to a chief less honour wont to bring; And that fair field is famed eternally, And he who wins it merits worshipping, Who, saving from all harm his own, without Loss to his followers, puts the foe to rout.

II You, sir, earned worthy praise, when you o'erbore The lion of such might by sea, and so Did by him, where he guarded either sh.o.r.e From Francolino to the mouth of Po, That I, though yet again I heard him roar, If you were present, should my fear forego.

How fields are fitly won was then made plain; For we were rescued, and your foemen slain.

III This was the Paynim little skilled to do, Who was but daring to his proper loss; And to the moat impelled his meiny, who One and all perished in the burning fosse.

The mighty gulf had not contained the crew, But that, devouring those who sought to cross, Them into dust the flame reduced, that room Might be for all within the crowded tomb.

IV Of twenty thousand warriors thither sent, Died nineteen thousand in the fiery pit; Who to the fosse descended, ill content; But so their leader willed, of little wit: Extinguished amid such a blaze, and spent By the devouring flame the Christians lit.

And Rodomont, occasion of their woes, Exempted from the mighty mischief goes: