And, if a truth like mine such power can give, While Heaven shall please-I now command thee, live!
But never be it from thy thought removed,
That, much as man can love, Zerbino loved.
Fear not but God in time will succour lend,
From every ill thy virtue to defend ;
As once he sent the Roman knight to save
Thy youth unfriended from the robber's cave:
As from the seas he drew thee safe to land,
And snatch'd thee from the' impure Biscayner's
And when at last all other hopes we lose, [hand:
Be death the last sad refuge that we choose.'
Thus spoke the dying knight; but scarce were
heard
His latter words in accents weak preferr'd. Here ended life—the light so drooping dies, When oil or wax no more the flame supplies.
FROM THE ITALIAN OF ARIOSTO.
ROGERO, who his fair advantage knew,
Had seized his arm, and now with force he drew
The furious king, and bending to and fro,
Compell'd at length his saddle to forego.
He fell but whether by his force or skill,
So fell, he seem'd Rogero's equal still,
Alighting on his feet-but all the field,
That saw Rogero yet his weapon wield, [slight,
High hopes conceived-meanwhile, with every
The youth essay'd to keep the Pagan knight
At distant bay, nor close too near with one
Of such huge limb, strong nerve, and giant bone.
He view'd the Pagan's gaping wounds, he view'd
His side and thigh with purple streams imbrued,
And hoped, with ebbing strength, he soon must
yield
To him the glory of the well fought field.
Still in his grasp the furious Pagan held
The broken weapon; this, with force impell'd,
He threw the weapon sent with certain aim
Against Rogero's helm and shoulder came.
So dreadful was the stroke, the gentle knight
Reel'd here and there, and scarce his utmost might
Sufficed to keep his tottering bulk upright.
To close in nearer strife the Pagan tried;
His wounded thigh his hasty step denied;
And while he urged his feeble nerves in vain,
One knee, beneath him bending, touch'd the plain.
His time Rogero took, he press'd his foe,
He whirl'd his falchion round, with blow on blow,
And laid once more the haughty Pagan low.
Again more fierce he rose; and now they join'd;
They grasp'd, with arms around each other twined.
His wounded side and thigh that vigour drain'd,
Which Rodomont so oft in fight sustain'd.
Rogero well his pliant limbs could wield,
And long had practised in the wrestlers' field.
His 'vantage now he saw, and close pursued,
And where the Pagan's deepest wounds he view'd,
Where most he saw the purple current flow,
Close and more close he press'd the' enfeebled foe.
But Rodomont, with rage and shame impell'd,
By turns Rogero's neck and shoulders held,
Now forward drew, now backward thrust, and
The youthful hero to his cruel breast, [press'd
And lifted high-now here, now there, he strain'd
The dauntless knight, and still his hold retain'd.
While every means he tries on earth to throw
The Christian youth; nor less his gallant foe,
Collected in himself, his art and might
Employs to disappoint the Pagan knight,
And keep him still beneath; oft wheeling round,
Rogero shifts his hold, and shifts his ground.
At length fierce Rodomont his waist enclosed
With firmest grasp-now, breast to breast opposed,
They toil-they pant-Rogero chief applied
His art against the Pagan's wounded side:
Athwart his bending knee one foot he thrust,
And, lifting, hurl'd him prostrate on the dust
Headlong-When thus the furious Pagan fell
On the hard earth, the blood, as from a well,
Stream'd from each wound, and deep on every side
The fatal plain with gory crimson dyed.
Rogero now, with Fortune's favour crown'd,
To keep the Pagan prisoner on the ground,
One hand the dagger to his sight address'd,
One hand with fearful grasp his throat compress'd,
While either knee his heaving bosom press'd.
As in Pannonian or Iberian gloom
Where wretched miners cheerless days consume
For shining ore, if fate above impends,
And sudden ruin on their head descends,
Crush'd up and bruised, their spirits scarcely find
A vent to leave their mortal part behind;
So lay the Sarzan prince, so, press'd beneath
The victor, struggled in the jaws of death.
The dagger, now unsheath'd, Rogero shook,
And at his vizor seem'd to aim the stroke:
He bade him yield, as vanquish'd in the strife,
With plighted faith to spare his forfeit life:
But he, whom thought of death far less dismay'd Than aught that signs of dastard fear betray'd, Still bent and twined; while all in vain he proved Against the knight, who kept his place unmoved. As when the mastiff, panting on the plain, Whose throat the nimble greyhound's fangs con
With deadly gripe, in fruitless fury lies,
With jaws dire foaming and with fiery eyes;
Not all his force the victor can elude,
By skill and vigour not by rage subdued-
So Rodomont essay'd each art, to make
The conquering youth his powerful hold forsake.
He strove to rise; but still the wary knight
Press'd him to earth with unabated might.
Now, writhing here and there, the Pagan strain'd
Each nerve, and freed at length his better hand,
That in its grasp the' insidious poniard bore
(The poniard from the sheath released before);
With this he sought to aim the murderous wound
Beneath Rogero's reins-the youth renown'd
The danger saw, should still his generous heart
Defer the Pagan's death, his just desert;
Then at full stretch he raised his arm above
The prostrate king, and thrice the weapon drove
Deep in his horrid front-so ends the strife,
And leaves secure Rogero's fame and life!
Where Acheron's infernal waters spread,
Freed from her icy limbs, blaspheming fled
The' indignant soul, that here, with impious pride,
All human faith and Heaven's own laws defied.
FROM THE ITALIAN OF TASSO.
THE fair Armida, conscious of her power,
Strong in her sex and beauty's vernal flower,
Assumes the welcome task; with closing day,
She parts, through many a lone and hidden way;
With curling locks and silken vest she boasts
To match unconquer'd chiefs and steel-clad hosts:
While various rumours, 'mong the vulgar spread,
Excused her parting, and their thoughts misled.
Few days elasped, ere reach'd the beauteous
maid
[play'd:
Where their white tents the Christian bands dis-
Soon as the bright attraction caught their eyes,
The whispering soldiers view'd her with surprise;
As when some meteor's omen'd splendours glare,
Or reddening comet fires the cloudless air,
With straining eyes assembled mortals gaze,
And watch his wondrous progress with amaze;
So thronging crowds the stranger fair admired,
Her errand, country, and her name inquired.
Nor Argos, Delos, nor the Cyprian shore
E'er saw a face, a dress, so fair of yore;
Gold were her locks, now beaming through the
Of her white veil, now floating loose they play'd:
So, when some tempest ends its shortlived reign,
And brightening ether grows serene again,
Now shines through fleecy clouds the solar ray;
Now from his covert issuing, bright and gay,
The golden orb bursts forth, and pours redoubled
day.
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