With eyes imploring, the determin'd few Who scorned to yield-such pleas must all subdue ; For never yet was found the savage art, To raze out nature's feelings from the heart. But lo!-when ev'ry hope seem'd wholly crost, 215 And ev'ry prospect of assistance lost, Grandonio, by o'er-ruling pow'rs inspir'd, The Sericanean camp, Grandonio's band To spread the notice of this fatal harm. 225 Surpriz'd, whole ranks unconscious yield up breath, Scarce struggling to evade the stroke of death. Thus the grim wolf, with long pent fury bold, Destroys the guardian of the sleeping fold; On unresisting victims tries his force, And slaughter widely marks his dreadful course. Th' exulting victors to the ramparts past, 230 To join th' allies—with hearts resolv'd they go, To end the war by one decisive blow. 240 The martial train in three divisions mov'd; Rinaldo and his brothers well beloy'd Led on the first-the second corps Ferrau, Whose untam'd spirit danger ne'er could awe, Commanded-with the ardent hero came 245 Three chiefs, whose lofty deeds were nois'd by fame, Great Isolero-Matalista known In death strewn fields—and he whose valour shone 250 With brightest lustre when severely tried, Brave Serpentino, long the legion's pride. With good Marsilius warr'd upon his side— This Balugantes-that Morgante nam'd: And crowds to share the glorious danger claim'd. O'er many a panting height and winding vale 255 They march'd with ensigns flutt'ring on the gale, 260 Or sparkling bright beneath the solar beam, That lit them onward to the path of fame. Soon to their view the Sericanean pow'rs, And Barcelona's long contested tow'rs, The Pagan host, undaunted, and unquell'd, Whose outguards saw, with wonder, from afar 265 To bear th' alarm to proud Gradasso's tent. 270 True to the call of glory, prompt he rose To hurl destruction on th' advancing foes. He summon'd; and gave orders to sustain The siege with one division of the band, While one more num'rous under his command 275 Should forward march, those levies to engage Who dar'd to thwart his plans, or contest wage. Yon tow'ring bastions fall, no more to rise: Το spare the Saracen Grandonio's life, That caitiff, who pretends that he alone Will foil my aims-on him be vengeance shewn. 280 285 Load him with chains, and plunge him far from light, Deep in some dungeon's artificial night, In noisome damps with reptiles let him dwell, Nor comfort visit the forsaken cell. Against my deep-mouth'd dogs the boastful knight Shall strive hereafter in degrading fight; When routed, all those succours lately come Shall feel my prowess, and receive their doom." 290 |