Though our Elev’en proclaimèd on the spot,
to England’s Court, of battle such assize,
that mote the Dames their cause victorious call,
though of their champions two or three may fall.
60
“Now in the lofty public Lists convene,
the King of England and his suite and Court:
In threes by threes, and fours by fours are seen
spectators rangèd by the rule of sort.
From Tage to Bactrus144 ne’er did Sol, I ween,
flame on such force and fierceness, power and port,
as on those English Twelve, who leave their walls
to front Eleven of our Portingalls.
61
“Champing their golden bits, fleckt spumy white,
the chargers cast fierce fiery looks askance:
On arms and armour Phoebus danceth bright
as on dure adamant or crystal glance:
Not less on either side astound the sight
numbers unequal, a quaint dissonance,
to twelve eleven matched: Begins the crowd
to vent its general joyaunce long and loud.
62
“All turn their faces curious to see
where loudest bruit and hottest bate arise:
When lo! a horseman, armèd cap-à-pie,
pricks o’er the plain to claim of war the prize:
Saluting King and Dames, straight rideth he
to his Eleven: ’Tis the great Magriçe:
With warmest accolade his friends he haileth,
whom in the battle, certès, ne’er he faileth.
63
“The Ladye, hearing that the man was there,
who would in combat guard her name and fame,
wends glad the fleece of Helle’s beast to wear,
which more than Virtue vulgar hearts doth claim:
They cry, ‘Let go!’ and now the trump’s shrill blare
fireth the warrior-heart with fiercer flame:
All prick at once the spur, all slack the bit,
all couch the lances; earth by fire is lit.
64
“The tramp of destr’iers riseth with a noise
as though some quake of earth rolled ’neath their tread:
Heart-strings in bosoms flutter; gazing eyes
are fixt in mingled sense of joy and dread:
This, from his charger not dismounting flies;
that groaneth falling with his falling steed;
this hath his snow-white mail with vermeil dyed;
that, with his helm-plume flogs his courser’s side.
65
“Some sleep to wake no more, in lasting swoon
passing from life to death with hasty course:
Horses sans riders here o’er tilt-yard run,
and there the rider runs without the horse:
Now falleth English pride from off her throne;
for two or three depart the Pale parforce,
while they the battle-brand who came to wield,
find more than harness holds, or mail, or shield.
66
“To waste long words and War’s extremes to show
of slashing cuts, and thrusts of cruel pain,
were work of wastrel-men who, well we trow,
of leisure lavish, vainest dream’ery feign:
Let it in fine suffice that all ye know
how with the fame of high finesse, remain
Victory’s palms with us; and ev’ery Dame
a glorious victress, did retrieve her fame.
67
“The Duke our conqu’ering Twelve forthwith invites
where ring his halls with feast and wassail gay:
Hunters and kitcheners to toil incites
of the Twelve Dames that goodly company;
who glad had lavisht on their saviour Knights
a thousand banquets ev’ery hour o’ the day,
long as on English-land they list to roam,
before returning to the dear-loved home.
68
“Withal, the great Magriço, men declare,
wishing the Wonders of the World to view,
abroad remainèd and performèd there
for Flanders’ Countess not’able service true:
And be’ing no carpet-knight, but prompt to dare
what exploits, Mars! thou biddest man to do
He slew a Frank in field; and thus had he
Torquatus’ and Corvinus’ destiny.
69
“Of the stout Twelve another cast his lot
in Almayne, where him fiercely challengèd
a wily German, who had planned such plot
his life depended from a single thread.”
Velloso ceasing here, his mates besought
he would not leave the glorious tale unsaid
anent Magriço, and the meed he met,
nor e’en the caitiff German Knight forget.
70
But at this passage when each prickt his ear,
behold! the Master conning sky and cloud,
pipeth his whistle; waken as they hear
starboard and larboard all the startled crowd:
And, as the breeze blew fresh’ening shrill and sheer,
he bade them take in topsails shouting loud
“Yarely, my lads! look out, the wind increases
from yon black thunder-cloud before our faces.”
71
Scarce were the foresails hurr’iedly taken in,
when sharp and sudden bursts the roaring gale:
“Furl!” cried the Master with as loud a din,
“Furl!” cried he, “Furl for life the mainmast-sail!”
The furious gusts wait not till they begin
furling the canvas; but conjoint assail
and tear it with such crash to shreds and tatters
as though a ruined world the Storm-wind shatters.
72
Meanwhile the Crew with cries the welkin tore,
in panick fear and gen’eral disaccord;
for as the canvas split, the hull heel’d o’er,
broad sheets of water shipping by the board.
“Heave!” roared the Master with a mighty roar,
“Heave overboard your all, tog’ether’s the word!
Others go work the pumps, and with a will:
The pumps! and sharp, look sharp, before she fill!”
73
Hurrieth to ply the pumps the soldier-host,
but ere they reachèd them, the rolling sea
and tem’erous waves the ship so pitcht and tost,
all lost their footing falling to the lee.
Three stalwart sailors who best thews could boast,
sufficèd not to make the helm work free;
tackles to starboard, yokes to port they lashèd,
yet all their pow’er and practice stood abashèd.
74
Such were the gale-gusts, never Tempest blew
with more of cruel will, of feller stowre,
as though its mission were t’ uproot and strew
on plain of Babel, Babel’s tallest tow’er:
’Mid the great washing waves that greater grew,
dwindled the puissant Ship to stature lower
than her own cock; and ’twas a thing of fear,
seeing her in such surges swim and steer.
75
The sturdy craft that Paul da Gama bears,
beareth her mainmast broken clean in twain
and well-nigh water-logged: The crew in prayers,
calls upon Him who came to ransom men.
Nor less vain clamours to the empty airs
Coelho’s vessel casts by fear o’ertane;
though there the Master had more caution shown,
furling his canvas ere the storm came down.
76
In air the Ships are thrown with ev’ery throw
of
