No respite Ulivieri's sons allow'd
(Marking the fear that bristled thro' the crowd),
But rush'd at once th' invading host to whelm;
As when, in vengeance to some guilty realm,
The Pestilence and Famine side by side
Sweep o'er its confines with gigantick stride,
Where'er they look the blighted nations fade,
And Desolation spreads her gloomy shade:
So Death's twin Priests assail'd the Moorish line
And with unnumber'd victims heap'd his shrine,
Their strength augmenting as their triumphs grew,
And the foe shrinking more, as more the brothers slew.
But he, the Atlantean Chief, whose eye
Did the whole conflict with a glance descry,
Mark'd with the sacred ensign of the Rood
Usurp'd the ground where late Sobrino stood,
He stopp'd; the relicks of the Lombard host
He left, and rapid to the centre cross'd,
Raising so thick a dust, that scarce within
The splendid presence of the Knight was seen :
As the bright Sun in vapour oft is veil'd
By his own fervour as he rolls exhal'd,
Till at high noon the writhed masses fly
And Nature droops beneath his flaming eye.
Th' astonish'd Christians, who in hot pursuit
Saw not that onset till they felt its fruit,
Were lopt or cloven by the dreadful sword,
Or by the spear transfix'd of Risa's Lord,
Whether they dar'd th' attack, or sought by flight
To shun th' impetuous torrent of his might.
Then Grifon- Hither haste! O Aquilant-
• Though yonder broken troops before us pant,
• Precarious Conquest here reverts her eye,
• The Libyan triumphs, and the Christians die."
He spoke the sable Warrior rein'd his steed,
Turning, where heaps on heaps his followers bled.
There blaz'd Ruggiero: thither Aquilant,
Whom nought of human shape in arms might daunt,
his spear---
Rush'd---for a whisper seem'd to urge
He thought his Guardian spoke, but Fate beguil'd his ear,
Appriz'd, his beamy lance Ruggiero couch'd :
Then trembled Grifon, when the Knights approach'd:
Then to his mind the Monarch's cautious word
(Unheeded by himself) too late recurr'd.
But neither horse was thrown, nor either Knight;
With splinters of their staves the field was white,
And each his sword display'd for closer fight.
-Now front to front th' illustrious Champions shone,
Conquest of one the meed; of both Renown,
Whose voice alike records the Hero's praise
On the proud trophy or the storied vase.
The Paladin in a tive skill and slight
Excell'd, long practis'd in the arts of fight:
But in strong harness, grav'd with many a charm,
In the tempestuous vigour of his arm
(With which Orlando's self might scarce compare)
And confidence, the palm Ruggiero bare:
For tho' in each alike true valour blaz'd,
Fate then depress'd the one, the other rais'd.
Ruggiero's mail each blow, each thrust withstood;
The Christian Sabre was not ting'd with blood;
Tho' ne'er descended his resistless blade
But the gore spouted from the wound it made.
Yet might not Aquilante's spirit fail"
Tho shiver'd was his shield, and gash'd his mail :
Cautious, but firm he struck: no sign of dread
His aspect, or his manly port display'd.
'Twixt two such warriors when the joust began,
Silent was all the war, each visage wan;
As when for mastery of the swampy space
Which Burhampooter's liquid arms embrace,
Two Elephants in horrid strife contend,
Wolves, pards and tigers pant in covert screen'd.
But when by loss of blood berumb'd and faint,
Slow grew the arm of mighty Aquilant;
When Fate in purple characters display'd
The doom impending o'er his honour'd head,
Between th' uplifted sabres Grifon sprung
(With fear and rage, despair and sorrow wrung)
And on Ruggiero pour'd a tide of wrath,
Each blow, for any other, fraught with death."
Shame! shame!' the Atlantean warrior cried---
Then thicken'd all the fray on either side,
Here Grifon pressing on, Ruggiero there,
And mace and dagger us'd, and sword and spear;
While Aquilante's strength could ill restrain
His courser, wounded sore and mad with pain.
Less and less clear the Hero's vision grew :
His sinewy gripe relax'd; a chilly dew
(Offspring of life's last twilight) o'er him spread,
And his head swam and all his colour fled :
Till from the saddle bow upon the ground
Sidelong he fell at last, and falling swoon'd.
But in the press of such a mingled fight,
Where every ray that struck upon the sight
Depicted floundering steeds and dying men,
No colour, no device but crimson seen,
Not Grifon's self observ'd his brother fall,
Nor miss'd his well-known crest and ŝable pall.
The visual nerve no image might retain
Save his, who rul'd the carnage of the plain;
His, whom to see was danger; whom to dare
In equal arms, was death and black despair,
Repeil'd a little space, the foes career
Ruggier expected with his proper spear,
Which from the corse of dead Rigonzo torn
A squire had thro' the ranks of com' at borne,
Following, but ne'er till then had reach'd the knight;
So rapid did he thunder thro' the fight.
Then twice three hundred knights, together join'd
(The ranks before impell'd by those behind)
With Grifon, onwards drove in fierce array,
Bent to o'erthrow Ruggier, perhaps to slay.
Scarce twice his lance's length, which fathoms four
Reach d in the staff, the head two cubits more,
Had the bold youth for course, and scarce had couch'd
His weapon, when the Paladin approach'd.
Against the buckler's boss did Grifon aim;
And twenty spears with his united came
At various points, at limb, and trunk and head
Driv'n with full force.-But little all bested!
Upright Ruggiero sate: his horrid spear
Met Grifon's onset in that fierce career.
Just on the visor, 'twixt each iron joint
Of the clos'd helmet, struck the weapon's point
And in an instant drove the champion down;
While his own band behind came driving on
Heedless, and each unable then to rein
His steed, or mark the warrior on the plain.
Over the prostrate Knight full forty horse
With iron hoofs pursued their rapid course,
Crushing the trunk within its steely guard
And treating out the lite his fall bad spar'd.
Hapless in such a doom! if circumstance
Can truly make disastrous any chance
Which the deep voice of human anguish stills,
And closes up the scene of cares and ills.
As when against Cornubia's utmost shore
Enormous Neptune bids his waters roar,
Firm stands the rock, and breaks the whelming tide
And rolls it shatter'd off to either side,
While its bleak top the spray and surges hide :
So, by that fearful onset unsubdued,
Erect amid the bands Ruggiero stood;
So the staves shiver'd; so to left and right
Rush'd in a foam the bloody stream of fight.
Then all in thoughts of safety buried fame:
Then from all bosoms instinct blotted shame!
All to the rear in hope of succour sprung;
For Hope, from Grifon driv'n, on Amon hung:
And (as deluded sickness ever flies
From leech to leech, and every medicine tries
Tho' grinning Death each vain attempt defies)
Not one the living with the dead compar'd;
None but to reach the rear and Amon car'd.
Mingled amid the mass of those that fled
The swarthy victors o'er the plain were spread :
None ever thought of spoil; none staid to view
The (sometimes tardy) death of him he slew,
But, covetous of carnage, struck again
Cleaving the nearest of the flying train,
And nothing thought atchiev'd, till all the host
Of Europe were in one destruction lost.
So shone Ruggiero in the field of death:
Such fame, such conquest glitter'd o'er his path.
But far behind him on the gory plain
Lay Aquilant, among the vulgar slain.
Yet not for aye was memory's power decay'd,
Nor seal'd his eye-lids in eternal shade,
Oft, ere its trembling light for ever close,
Th' expiring lamp revives and faintly glows;
And Aquilant, ere life at last withdrew,
Some moments of returning anguish knew:
Yet recollection serv'd (the bliss or bane
Of Man's precarious lot) to whet his pain.
His own, the type of Europe's doom he view'd;
Long Africk's scourge, by Africk now subdued :
No succour then Rinaldo's lance could yield;
Relentless Fate Orlando's arm withheld;
While in the adverse host a mightier hand
Than ever fenc'd before the Moorish band
The strongest of the Christian warriors slew―
Himself-perhaps, alas! his brother too.
Such thoughts oppress'd him in his dying hour,
Whene'er the struggling soul resum'd its power
In short, and shorter intervals: till Fate
Mark'd the just period of his finish'd date.
Then did the dread serenity of Death
Creep o'er his brows; then ceas'd his labouring breath.
The spirit far from tumult wing'd its way,
And cold on earth the nerveless members lay.
[FROM MR. WILSON'S ISLE OF PALMS.]
ND well, glad Vessel! mayst thou stem
The tide with lofty breast,
And lift thy queen-like diadem
O'er these thy realms of rest:
For a thousand beings, now far away,
Behold thee in their sleep,
And hush their beating hearts to pray
That a calm may clothe the deep.
When dimly descending behind the sea
From the mountain Isle of Liberty,
Oh! many a sigh pursued thy vanish'd sail;
And oft an eager crowd will stand
With straining gaze on the Indian strand,
Thy wonted gleam to hail.
For thou art laden with Beauty and Youth,
With Honour bold, and spotless Truth,
With fathers, who have left in a home of rest
Their infants smiling at the breast,
With children,.who have bade their parents farewell,
Or who go to the land where their parents dwell.
God speed thy course, thou gleam of delight!
From rock and tempest clear;
Till signal gun from friendly height
Proclaim, with thundering cheer,
To joyful groups on the harbour bright,
That the good ship HOPE is near!
Is no one on the silent deck
Save the helmsman who sings for a breeze,
And the sailors who pace their midnight watch,
Still as the slumbering seas?
Yes! side by side, and hand in hand,
Close to the prow two figures stand,
Their shadows never stir,
And fondly at the Moon doth rest
Upon the Ocean's gentle breast,
So fond they look on her.
They gaze and gaze till the beauteous orb
Seems made for them alone:
They feel as if their home were Heaven,
And the earth a dream that bath flown.
Softly they lean on each other's breast,
In holy bliss reposing,
Like two fair clouds to the vernal air
In folds of beauty closing.
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