Canto VI

High in the heavens Astrea was dividing
With balance nice the fleetly rolling day ;
When both the annies moved at once, deriding
Each other, ready for the dreadful fray ;
Plain, valley, mountain, seemed with echo chiding,
And bank and forest rolled the sound away;
Bellowed the woods, each gurgling river's bed,
And Apennine's huge masses shook with dread.

As in the Straits, where erst the Son of Jove
Divided ocean from our dark blue sea :
If tempests fierce their glassy waters move,
The proud waves roar and burst tremendously ;
Now horrid gulfs appear, and now above
Swell foaming mountains, terrible to see,
Tremble the shores, heaven burns, midst lightning, thunder ;
Such was the meeting of the camps ; — no wonder.

The hail of flying arrows gloomed the sky,
And quenched the brightness of the solar ray ;
Whoever views with picturing memory's eye
The annual splendours on St. Peter's day ; ";
From Adrian's famous mole, which towers so high,
How storms of rockets blaze in every way,
Let them think this a thicker, denser veil,
Than e'er from heaven on that occasion fell.

The awful crash of host encountering host,
Of neighing steeds, spears breaking; seemed around
As from the Alps, the woods up-torn and tost
Suddenly down, had made the vales resound ;
Distance and interval were wholly lost,
And mid the strife no passage could be found ;
The lovely meads already groaned with fear,
And Death usurped the plain in full career.

Now pushes, drives, now turns, and retrocedes
Alternately each squadron ; where one fails
Another .squadron instantly succeeds,
And thus its previous losses countervails ;
As turns the first, another forward speeds,
Like wave on wave, and for a time prevails ;
The captains zealously, in every place,
Urge on the brave, and stimulate the base.

"Vain men !" said Salinguerra, " ye who dress
"In arms for ornament, and ostentation ;
"Where are your swords, your hands to gain success,
"The ardent heart that throbs with emulation ?
"If you among these rustics fear to press,
"Men without arms, discipline, animation ;
"How can I hope this day to see you fired
"With love of fame, — with glorious deeds inspired !

"This is the path to glory, this the way !
"Ye, who have souls of honour, follow me ;
"T burst the passage, fill it up who may;
"Who fights to be immortal we shall see !"
Thus spoke the champion bold, and dashed away
Amidst the thickest of the enemy ;
Couching his lance he flew with loosened rein,
And looked a tempest rolling back the main.

Some, wounded in the face, and some the breast,
Fall by the encounter of the spear, unseen ;
The thickest ranks are thinned ; the bold represt ;
And each unceasing tries himself to screen.
He meets Stefano, puts him to the test,
And bores his right eye with his javelin keen;
Next Ghino tumbling falls, pierced through the throat,
Then Brandan da Baschier, a man of note.

Brandan, his mouth had rashly opened wide
That instant, to insult his valiant foe ;
When the relentless iron, well applied,
Rattled between his teeth and laid him low ;
The spear drawn out, the warrior turns aside,
And gives Ilario a tremendous blow ;
The youth, while living neither bold nor brave,
Extended falls, a common ditch his grave.

Count di Culagna not far off he sees,
Pompously armed and proud of his attire;
And thinking him a hero, scorning ease,
Spurs on against him with an eye of fire;
But the count's courage soon begins to freeze,
Behind his horse preferring to retire,
Till the lance passes; then he grasps the mane,
And lightly springs into his seat again.

Who ever saw a monkey dart away,
From the rude stroke of wayward child, and then
With quick and agile leap, as if in play,
Come back, and briskly show itself again ;
So when the spear was quivering for its prey,
Down stooped the count, accustomed thus to feign,
And with the same agility he rose,
As if he were another, to his foes.

He turned to Bernardin Manetta straight,
Who stared at him with laughing countenance ;
"Troth," said he, " I have shunned a heavy fate,
"And must again be careful of his lance ;
"I left my saddle in a needful state ;
"And he who watched me with an eye askance,
"Drove my horse sideways on me; wretch, I say!
"But, woe to him, if he should cross my way."

Thus saying to the left he quickly sped
Where his advancing Florentines were seen ;
Thinking, perhaps, the battle to evade,
But when he saw Antonfrancesco Din,
Oppose them with his cavalry brigade,
He to his soldiers said with haughty mien :
"Let us retire, my friends I for, I declare,
"To fight with such a few would not be fair."

Roldano hearing him turned sharply round,
And struck him with the butt end of his spear ;
And said: " Thou scum of madmen, pluckless hound,
"Dost thou not blush with shame to snivel here ;
"If thou rt not still, or quittest not this ground
"I'll rip thy bowels up — by heaven! I swear."
"Be not so angry!" was the count's reply,
"I only spoke my gallant troops to try."

Roldano only frowned—but that stern frown,
Shook every nerve and fibre of his heart;
Then spurring on his dapple, whose renown
Eclipsed in speed the wind, and feathered dart.
On youthful Averardo thundered down,
Whom he saw wet with hostile blood apart,
And giving him, an axillary wound,
Unhorsed him, and distained the flowers around.

But Dini his battalions pushes on,
And loudly calls : " Ye cowards ! fall ye back,
"From the unaided bravery of one,
"Who fighting leaves his troops behind? alack!
"Courage! why stare ye, are your senses gone?
"Lately of gallant deeds you used to crack;
"Then, like a melon, you resolved to slice
"The world, and now the dog-days make you ice!"

He ceased, and where Roldano's phalanx deep
He saw advancing, thither spurred his steed ;
And with his sword at one tremendous sweep
The worthless Barisano's spirit freed ;
And Teggia, who expected conquest cheap,
And like a frog to crush him, struck indeed,
Upon his helmet with a bludgeon stout,
But in return had both his eyes torn out.

Such is the battle and contention here !
But to the south the king with warmer zeal
Inspires his friends, dismissing every fear,
At once upon the enemy's left they wheel.
He shines a threatening- comet, bright and clear,
With gold and trappings decked, from head to heel ;
Surrounded by his German troops he stands,
And thus in accent barbarous issues his commands.

"Flower of the German empire, great of soul,
"Now is the hour, and this the destined field ;
"When your immortal arms without controul,
"Shall inextinguishable glory yield !
"In you confiding through my bosom roll
"Feelings of vengeance not to be concealed;
"To day, upon these papists I intend
"A horrible example shall descend.

"Me, follow bravely, since the impious race
"Have gathered all their strength, their utmost power ;
"Then shall our injuries in this very place
"Be all revenged at once, this very hour ;
"If fame has charms, her winning charms confess,
"If patriotism is now your honoured dower;
"If ye did ever my dear father love,
"This is the time your loyalty to prove!"

He spoke, and couching his destructive spear,
With visor down amidst the foe-men rode ;
And moved impetuously in front and rear,
As lightning blasts the oaks—then gushing flowed
The blood of Baldin, Lippo Ghisellier,
And Anton Ghisellardi o'er the road ;
And Melchior Ghisellin, and Guazzarotto,
Who was the great grandsire of Ramazzotto.

Giandino la Porretta, from Bologna,
Was bulky as a giant ; — less perhaps ;
And strangely for a war-horse rode upon a
Saddleless demon, without bridle-straps ;
He seemed a Gorgon huge of Sant' Antonio,
Nor did the monster feed on grain, but flaps
Of human flesh; his teeth could grind with scorn
Iron, and on his forehead was a horn.

The horrid beast four Germans had destroyed,
And was upon the fifth his stomach filling ;
When the king drove his javelin through his side,
And pierced the heart, the pangs of death instilling ;
The lance broke short, King Enzio then applied
His trusty sword, its office well fulfilling ;
By one deep gash Giandon lost his head,
Just as he rose from where the monster bled.

Bigone di Geremia, at a distance,
Beholding- the great carnage by the foe,
Rushed forth against the king, but the resistance
Of the Count di Nebrona turned the blow ;
The count had nearly finished his existence;
He tumbled, but in rising was not slow,
Soon as he saw his sovereign forward start
Against Bigone — flourishing his dart.

Bigone waited for the king, prepared,
But it was useless to oppose his shield ;
The sword divides it, and the helmet hard,
Springs off precipitately on the field ;
Redoubled are the strokes, the head is bared,
And severed from the trunk—his doom is sealed.
The ardent spirit, from its mortal load
Released, flies wandering to its first abode.

Bigone dead, the king defeats his train,
Nor does his wrath abate, nor linger there;
Impetuously the flanks are turned again,
Broke, trampled on ; unknowing how to spare ;
Where'er his course is bent, a sanguine stain
Is left, dead bodies lie in heaps and far ;
The barbarous fury which inspires his mood,
Fills all the field with rivulets of blood.

The fatal wrath, still hurrying on the king
Followed by Garfagnines ; he now is seen
Where the great waggon stopped, within the ring
Of guards, the rear battalions between ;
With rush of thousand javelins every thing
Gives way, the guards are scattered o'er the green ;
And from the waggon fiercely now is borne
The famous standard, broken all, and torn.

From Messer Filipo Ugone, Mayor,
Who deeply in astonishment was lost,
Some Garfagnines purloined the roquilare
And velvet cap so splendidly embossed ;
Half dressed, and jumping down, he groaned a prayer
For help and pity, but his prayer was crossed ;
Into a ditch plunged headlong by a thwack,
He fell, the clattering waggon at his back.

The asses which the chesnuts had conveyed
For the sharp-stomached Florentines, were feeding
At a short distance, in a flowery glade ;
When the keen Germans, roguish in their breeding,
With hungry Garfagnines forthwith displayed
Their thirst for booty ; to their task proceeding
Full tilt, and leaving, in their plundering,
Not more than thirty soldiers with the king.

Sagacious Tognon in an instant knew
The wished-for hour of vengeance was at hand ;
And formed his scattered followers anew,
And told the two Malvizzis with a band
Of troops to intercept the plundering' crew,
Who, utterly regardless of command,
Dried figs and roasted chesnuts were devouring ;
Then Enzio attacked — around his forces scouring.

The king on every side with consternation
Looked, and his peril equally beheld ;
His heavy heart was bursting with vexation,
He sees himself expiring press the field ;
But grief subsides, and rage and desperation
Impel him not without revenge to yield ;
He grasps his sword with more than mortal force,
And midst the thickest goads his fiery horse.

As the fierce tiger in the forest growls
Upon his prey, and, when by sportsmen found,
Uplifts his head, his eye with fury rolls,
Seeing the dangers that his lair surround ;
Then rushes on the hunters, foams and howls,
And his own blood and others stream around ;
So midst the enemy the king appears,
For a heart truly noble nothing fears.

He strikes the first he meets, of Braganosso,
Of Pandragon Cac'nemico the son,
Divides the helm, the muscles, and the osso
Or bone, the face, breast to the navel down,
Then he abstracts the life of Min del Rosso,
Who had on ancient mail of some renown ;
His grandsire purchased it, a man undaunted,
In France, and it was always deemed enchanted.

The good sword could not falsify the charm,
But bent upon his horse the cavalier ;
And running upwards, underneath the arm,
Passed through the throat, and issued at the ear ;
Hence Mino fell, who never dreamt of harm,
By adverse fate the charm was conquered here ;
Thus human wit opposed to Heaven must fail,
The one eternal and the other frail.

Meantime the king received upon the throat
And helm, two strokes, the worst al gorgierino ;
The second was inflicted, quick as thought,
By Vanni Maggi, son of Caterino
But far the heaviest, which great anguish brought,
Was given by Gabbion di Gozzadino;
Who with a halbert, falling down like lead,
Removed the plumed cimiero from his head.

At him then Enzio struck with gathered, force,
Exact across the eyes the weapon went,
Cutting the head off in its bloody course,
One eye burst out at least a mile's extent ;
The brain was scattered thus without remorse,
The trunk stood still upright, the spirit spent ;
And when the horse found all control had gone,
He bore it round and round, by all unknown,

But stops not here the furious sword, which bears
The mark of Lupa on its ancient blade ;
It pierces, opens, crushes, mangles, tears
Whate'er it meets, arms, men in steel arrayed ;
Now here, now there, a grizly path it clears,
But numerous crowds successively invade ;
Now fly in air the severed heads and brains,
And spleens and bowels float along the plains.

Struck by a thousand lances, and surrounded
By thousand javelins, and a thousand darts,
All wet with blood, half killed, and half confounded,
Is that unequalled band of gallant hearts ;
Tognon reviles his men with rage unbounded,
And loudly cries — "Ye dregs! of coward parts,
"To die so vilely—soup-destroyers—pullets,
"Bread with cross-bows should be crammed down your gullets."

'Hie keen reproaches of that noble soul
Drove all against the king, with whom remained
Living but one, survivor of the whole,
Leopold Count Nebrona. Mark, restrained,
Pierced by a hundred spears the charger roll
Lifeless beneath the king, who, still sustained,
Thunders, and with two cuts Petronio
Kills, and — de' Carisendi and.

Berto Galucci and old Gobbo now
Are on him, and inflict a cruel wound ;
But the great hero shrinks not at the blow,
Though they are horsed, and he upon the ground ;
The count, who turns and sees his sovereign low,
Springs from his saddle with an agile bound,
And gives his charger to the king, and dies
Amidst the strife, a noble sacrifice.

The king attempts to mount, and holds the rein,
But Gobbo drags him back, and braves the fight,
And with his hump is stretched along the plain;
Soon as the falchion glitters on his sight,
Tognon dismounts, and rushing on amain
Behind the king, grasps him with all his might,
And Francalosso aids the prize to win,
Fantucci, Berto too, and Zagarin.

The king twists rounds and swiftly runs his sword
Into the paunch of Zagarin, but fails
To extricate himself; as with a cord,
Tog still binds him — hostile strength prevails
Over the valour of Sardinia's lord ;
Periteo too the struggling king assails ;
Now dragging, pushing, lifting, one and all,
But vain all efforts to escape the thrall.

As the wild bull, whose deadly horns and feet
Unknowingly are bound by cunning hands,
Roars, bellows, writhes, and shakes, without retreat,
Darts, pushes, struggles to unloose his bauds;
At last subdued, afflicted with defeat,
He falls exhausted on the trodden sands.
So the indomitable king, when he
Found all was vain, resigned despairingly.

The waggon soon was righted, and enthroned
Was the Podesta on its roof, with grace ;
But smeared with mud, his robe was lost, he owned,
So he put on a cuirass in its place ;
In scarlet stockings he was gaily donned,
His breeches rather rent — he had a mace
A span broad in his hand, and well might pass
As sheriff of Ana and of Caifas.

He roared in Brescian : " Forward — on — d'ye hear !
"Ye valiant men, the foe is ruinated ;
"Make all them Germans cross themselves with fear,
"Aggursed by God — and egscommunigated !"
Thus spoke he, and already saw the rear
Of the right column fly exanimated ;
Wandering through sunny fields and meadow rigs,
Seeking to save their bellies for the figs ;

Because the good Perinto had dispersed
The Germans, Sardis; every Corsican,
And others, who were anxious to be first,
At the alluring booty to a man ;
The greedy Germans, who with keenest thirst,
Had after certain casks a long way ran,
Thinking at once to gratify their wish,
Instead of Verd wine found salted fish.

At the first echo of the enemy's tread
The people of the sea turned tail to fly ;
The Germans soon collected, and made head ;
The Garfagnines stopt short, scarce knowing why.
But when the cavalry arrived, they spread
Furiously midst the trampled infantry.
Halbert, nor German pike, could thén restrain
The armed horse ; resistance was in vain.

Upon Roncolfo, huntsman to the king",
Inspiring' others in that mortal chase,
Perinto bends, and with a cruel swing
Pierces his visor, and divides the face.
Cuts with a backward stroke the tracheal ring
Of Gulielm Sterlin, brought up in Alsace ;
Ridolf d'Augusta, Giorgio d'Ascia found
Two stabs enough to hurl them to the ground.

A gallant stripling, born upon the Rhine,
And bred on the Panaro, named Ernest,
Whose lovely looks and countenance divine
Had oft the coldest heart with love imprest ;
Seeing his people all their posts resign
And flying, valour burning in his breast,
And thirst for glorious deeds, he nobly drove
On him a Nubian horse, his strength to prove.

Perinto pausing waits for the attack,
And when the youth is near he makes him feel;
The horse, not used to fencing, staggers back,
Soon as he hears the hideous clash of steel ;
Along the neck the falchion leaves a track,
And now behold the expiring courser reel ;
Ernesto finds him sinking on the plain,
And quits his seat with fury and disdain.

And with a stab he wounds him in the thigh ;
Perinto tunis, and gives another blow,
But he retires, of the encounter shy,
Behind an ancient holm-tree, bending low ;
Perinto foaming bobs incessantly,
But he bobs back — at hide and seek they go ;
Thus the poor lizard turns and changes place
When a sagacious spaniel gives it chase.

Captain Jaconia, the brave Soraggine,
Who more than his own life Ernesto loved ;
When by him thus the hunted youth was seen,
To whom his soul as by enchantment roved,
At the last gasp too, with distracted mien,
Ran to his help by strong affection moved,
Abandoning his troops who, badly led,
Disbanded, broken, had like cowards fled.

Approaching near, he found him deeply wounded,
In the right side, and overcome by pain ;
Raising his sword, against Perint he bounded,
And with both hands resolved his blood to drain ;
If from the helm the stroke had not rebounded,
Argon's, well-tempered, burst had been the brain;
But senselessly he staggered, and per force
Was borne, not knowing whither, by bis horse.

Jaconia then the lovely youth addressed :
"Ernesto!" said he, " all our troops are gone;
All routed, and dispersed; and here we rest;
"Here, uselessly to lose our lives, alone.
Let us not fall together thus, unblest,
"Thy innocent beauty, and myself o'erthrown."
"Go!" he replied, " see there my charger lie,
"For him I'll be revenged, or, with him die."

"Too ardent boy, unwary in thine ire,"
Rejoined Jaconia, " that which now compels
"Us to seek refuge, is a tempest dire,
"Far more tremendous than thy youth foretels ;
"If thy dead horse this anguish can inspire,
"And vengeance for him in thy breast rebels,
"Take mine!" He said no more, but on the plain
Dismounting, handed him the ready rein.

Rejected is the gift, but whilst the friend
Entreats, and kindly urges the request,
Perinto comes his vengeance to extend
Upon Jaconia, with impetuous haste ;
Rapid as lightnings from the heavens descend,
His thirsty sword is desperately prest
Through heavy shield and cuirass — in a breath
He leaves Jaconia wounded unto death.

Jaconia fell; a moment had not passed,
When brave Perinto, almost at his side,
Fell too—his fiery horse had gasped his last ;
Cleft through the chest and heart, he floundering died ;
Of his own safety heedless, rising fast,
Ernesto ran and, all on fire, defied
At half sword's length Perinto to the fight,
Soon as he saw his friend in such a plight.

Two strokes he gave the cavalier upon
The crested helmet, with such wildering force,
His body bumping was extended prone
Over the pummel, on the lifeless horse.
Then looking up towards the youth, Jacon,
Rose on his knees, attempting to discourse,
And said: " Ah do not perish in this strife,
"Leave me to die, and save thy precious life!"

Truly he spoke, if the obdurate soul
Is ever able to distinguish truth ;
Perinto sprung up, grasped his sword, to roll
A flood of fury on the audacious youth ;
Jaconia, with that strength which at the goal,
The parting spirit ministered in ruth,
To disappoint the blow in air that hung,
Against Perinto his own buckler flung.

But fatal was that effort, which the wound
Opened afresh—his soul gushed out in blood.
Shame! Shame! a truer friend was never found,
Who never fancied wine with water good ;
The shield he flung, his expectation crowned,
It struck the arm uplifted, as it should,
And face, and chest, and hand, and wholly broke
The fury of the meditated stroke,

But what avails it ! if the stripling stays,
And adds fresh fuel to the dying flame"?
Stroke follows stroke ; he seeks with earnest gaze,
The opening of the mail to fix his aim ;
Perinto burned with rage, fanned to a blaze ;
He struck, the javelin through the belly came;
The mail of Hector, spell-bound every plate,
Could not have saved him from his present fate.

Dying, Ernesto falls upon the ground,
And calls Jaconia, who unhearing lies;
A stream of blood empurples all around,
And bright day darkens in his lovely eyes;
The soul disdainful rushes through the wound,
And after its loved friend impatient flies ;
On the first horse he meets, Perinto darts,
And new adventures seeks in other parts.

Nor even returns when he observes the flight,
Of those the Florentine booty tricked and cheated ;
For he esteemed it victory vile and light
Chasing base runaways — dispersed, defeated ;
But where the battle burns with lances bright,
Against the Potta speeds, as if—conceited !
He 'd drink him in a draught, and render void
His city ; in its dunghill all destroyed.

Retiring from the strife he Guido met,
With half a sword, and eke a broken head ;
And going to his tent a cure to get,
By Tempest, his own barber, surgeon-bred,
He soon discovered in a funk and fret,
The people following Guido's hasty tread ;
Advancing to them he began to bawl —
"Turn back ! turn back ! or I will kill ye all !"

Then at the standard-bearer, who was staring,
Sans ceremonie, in a disdainful way,
He gave a cut across the face, declaring,
"Tis this that teaches people to obey."
The man was killed—no more for banners caring ;
Perint himself the standard to the day
Unfolds, the call each Ravignanian heeds,
And clamorously follows where he leads.

The Potta saw, returning to the war,
Those who 'd just scampered from the field afraid ;
And called to Tommasin, attending- there :
"Now, by thy mistress' life, thy goddess-maid !
"Go ! and attack that standard, in the air
"Flickering and coming on us : be displayed
"Thy skill and valour at this onerous time,
"Against those wretched caitiffs, filth and slime !"

Tommasin answers not, but nobly braves,
Fired by that speech, the enemy's cohort ;
With a bold band of uncombed, dirty knaves,
Given up to gambling and to idle sport,
Cognomened Triganieri, guttling slaves,
Spontaneous foes of the Bacchetoni, in short,
A people who forget heaven's bliss, or rod,
And make their appetite their only god.

With these brave Tommasin to battle went,
And, at the first encounter, haply killed
Gaspar Lunardi, Raspon's helmet rent,
And great Bianco's throbbing pulses stilled ;
When by Perinto he was double bent,
Struck with the banner-staff, no blood was spilled,
For on his valour Fortune smiled, to tell
That captured by a thousand swords he fell.

The captain lost, the followers' zeal subsided,
Seeing their disadvantage in the fight;
Still, they remained unbroken, undivided,
Returning in good order, not in flight ;
The flag Perinto to Polent confided,
Polenta following like a gallant knight ;
And having smartly Jotatan upset, he
Killed young Barbante, son of Mazzaretti.

But now the Potta, hearing of the fate
Of Tommasin, and, infinitely worse,
The sovereign of Sardinia's captive state,
Santa Nafissa he began to curse ;
And mounting on a hillock elevate,
Gathered new hope, foreboding the reverse,
For he perceived, of order quite bereft,
The enemy's standard flying on the left.

And, resolute to see the battle close,
Descended, and his people's wrath inflamed ;
When a tremendous homed giant rose,
And frightened him, as thundering he exclaimed :
"What are vour thoughts? your valour useless grows ;
"Retire or die ; retire you may, unblamed ;
"Behold ! thine eyes I open — 'See the strife
"Of Earth and Heaven, confusion now is rife !

"See! fighting there, the impious Bellona,
"All stained with blood, against your force contends ;
"And there, the haughty offspring of Latona;
"How many to the shades of death he sends ;
"Mars who fights for you, and against Ugone,
"Fatigued and sweating his assistance ends,
"Again collect your troops, be their preserver,
"From the disdain of Phoebus and Minerva."

Here stopped the monster fierce, to disappear
Like sick men's dreams, of horrid shapes compounded :
And soon dissolved itself in empty air,
Leaving the Potta wondering and confounded ;
Bacchus to cause this overwhelming fear,
His form with hideous fantasies surrounded ;
Who after fighting with the god Apollo,
Was marching from the battle, beaten hollow.

And looking out for a new enterprize,
That his good people might not suffer loss ;
The Potta was bewildered with surprize,
And signed his forehead with the holy cross ;
For he thought it a demon drawn in guise
Terrific, his poor mind to vex and toss.
In doubt he stood, then took a new direction,
And did, as mentioned in the following section.