Not fearing to encounter hostile prow;
Nor has he watchmen in his tops to spy,
And make report of what they hence descry.
’Twas so those ships, by England’s peer supplied
To Dudon, manned with good and armed crew,
Which see that Moorish fleet at eventide,
And that strange armament forthwith pursue,
Assailed them unawares, and, far, and wide,
Among those barks their grappling-irons threw,
And linked by chains, to their opponents clung,
When known for Moors and foemen by their tongue.
In bearing down, impelled by winds that blow
Propitious to the Danish chief’s intent,
Those weighty ships so shocked the paynim foe,
That many vessels to the bottom went;
Then, taxing wits and hands, to work them woe,
Them with fire, sword, and stones the Christians shent;
Which on their ships in such wide ruin pour,
Like tempest never vext the sea before.
Bold Dudon’s men, to whom unwonted might
And daring was imparted from on high,
(Since the hour was come the paynims to requite
For more than one ill deed,) from far and nigh,
The Moors so pestilently gall and smite,
Agramant finds no shelter; from the sky
Above, thick clouds of whistling arrows strike;
Around gleam hook and hatchet, sword and pike.
The king hears huge and heavy stones descend,
From charged machine or thundering engine sent,
Which, falling, poop and prow and broadside rend,
Opening to ravening seas a mighty vent;
And more than all the furious fires offend,
Fires that are quickly kindled, slowly spent,
The wretched crews would fain that danger shun,
And ever into direr peril run.
One headlong plunged, pursued by fire and sword,
And perished mid the waters, one who wrought
Faster with arms and feet, his passage oared
To other barque, already overfraught:
But she repulsed the wretch that fain would board;
Whose hand, which too importunately sought
To clamber, grasped the side, while his lopt arm
And body stained the wave with life-blood warm.
Him, that to save his life i’ the waters thought,
Or, at the worst, to perish with less pain,
(Since swimming profited the caitiff nought,
And he perceived his strength and courage drain)
To the hungry fires from which the refuge sought,
The fear of drowning hurries back again:
He grasps a burning plank, and in the dread
Of dying either death, by both is sped.
This vainly to the sea resorts, whom spear
Or hatchet, brandished close at hand, dismay;
For stone or arrow following in his rear,
Permit the craven to make little way.
But haply, while it yet delights your ear,
’Twere well and wisely done to end my lay,
Rather than harp upon the theme so long
As to annoy you with a tedious song.
Canto XL
To fly the royal Agramant is fain,
And sees Biserta burning far away;
But landing finds the royal Sericane,
Who of his faith gives goodly warrant; they
Defy Orlando, backed by champions twain;
Whom bold Gradasso firmly trusts to slay.
For seven kings’ sake, fast prisoners to their foes,
Rogero and the Dane exchange rude blows.
The diverse chances of that sea-fight dread,
Here to rehearse would take a weary while;
And to discourse to you upon this head,
Great son of Hercules, were to Samos’ isle
To carry earthen vessels, as ’tis said,
To Athens owls, and crocodiles the Nile.
In that, my lord, by what is vouched to me,
Such things you saw, such things made others see.
Your faithful people gazed on a long show,
That night and day, wherein they crowded stood,
As in a theatre, and hemmed on Po
Twixt fire and sword, the hostile navies viewed.
What outcries may be heard, what sounds of woe,
How rivers may run red with human blood,
In suchlike combat, in how many a mode
Men die, you saw, and you to many showed.
I saw not, I, who was compelled to course,
Evermore changing nags, six days before,
To Rome, in heat and haste, some helpful force
Of him our mighty pastor to implore.
But, after, need was none of foot or horse,
For so the lion’s beak and claws you tore,472
From that day unto this I hear not said
That he more trouble in your land has bred.
But Trotto, present at this victory,
Afranio, Moro, Albert, Hannibal,
Zerbinat, Bagno, the Ariostos three,
Assured me of the mighty feat withal,
Certified after by that ensignry,
Suspended from the holy temple’s wall,
And fifteen galleys at our river-side,
Which with a thousand captive barks I spied.
He that those wrecks and blazing fires discerned,
And such sore slaughter, under different shows,
Which—venging us for hall and palace burned—
While bark remained, raged wide among the foes,
Might also deem how Afric’s people mourned,
With Agramant, mid diverse deaths and woes,
On that dark night, when the redouted Dane
Assaulted in mid sea the Moorish train.
’Twas night, nor gleam was anywhere descried,
When first the fleets in furious strife were blended;
But when lit sulphur, pitch and tar from side
And poop and prow into the sky ascended,
And the destructive wildfire, scattered wide,
Fed upon ship and shallop ill defended,
The things about them all descried so clear
That night was changed to day, as ’twould appear.
Hence Agramant, that by the dark deceived,
Had rated not so high the foes’ array,
Nor to encounter such a force believed,
But would, if ’twere opposed, at last give way,
When that wide darkness cleared, and he perceived
(What least he weened upon the first affray)
That twice as many were the ships he fought,
As his own Moorish barks, took other thought.
Into a boat he with some few descends,
Brigliador and some precious things, to flee;
And so, twixt ship and ship, in silence wends,
Until he finds himself in safer sea,
Far from his own; whom fiery Dudon shends,
Reduced to sad and sore extremity;
Them steel destroys, fires burn, and waters drown;
While he, that mighty slaughter’s cause, is flown.
Agramant flies,
