No More Learning

For if, from far Gibraltar's straits of yore,
And old Alcides' pillars, sailed the throng,
To bear off plunder from your sea-girt strands,
What will they do when they possess our lands?

XXXVIII
"And, if in this fair enterprise arrayed,
No gain, no glory served you as a guide,
A common debt enjoins you mutual aid,
Militant here upon one Church's side.
Moreover, let not any be afraid,
Our broken foemen will the assault abide;
Who seem to me ill-taught in warlike art,
A feeble rabble without arms or heart. "

XXXIX
Such reasons, and yet better for, that need
Might good Rinaldo in his speech infer;
And with quick phrase and voice, to valiant deed
The high-minded barons and bold army stir;
And this was but to goad a willing steed
(As the old proverb says) who lacks no spur.
He moved the squadrons, having closed his speech,
Softly, beneath their separate banners, each.

XL
He, without clamour, without any noise.
So moves his triple host, their flags below.
Zerbino, marching by the stream, enjoys
The honour first to assail the barbarous foe;
The paladin the Irishmen employs
More inland, with a wider wheel to go.
Thus England's horse and foot, the two between,
Led by the Duke of Lancaster, are seen.

XLI
The paladin rode on, along the shore,
When he had put the warriors in their way,
And, passing by their squadrons, pricked before
Valiant Zerbino and his whole array,
Until he reached the quarters of the Moor,
Where Oran's king, and king Sobrino lay;
Who, half-a-mile removed from those of Spain,
Posted upon that side, observed the plain.

XLII
With such a faithful escort fortified
And sure, the Christians who had thither wound,
With Silence and the Angel for their guide,
No longer could stand mute or keep their ground:
But hearing now the foe, with shouts defied
Their host, and made the shrilling trumpets sound;
And with loud clamours, which Heaven's concave fill,
Sent through the paynim's bones a deadly chill.

XLIII
Rinaldo spurs before the troops combined
His foaming courser, and his weapon rests;
And a full bow-shot leaves the Scots behind:
So all delay the impatient peer molests.
As oftentimes an eddying gust of winds
Issues, ere yet the horrid storm infests,
So sallying swiftly from the following herd,
Rinaldo forth upon Baiardo spurred.

XLIV
As the aspect of the paladin of France,
The wavering Moorish files betray their fear;
And, trembling in their hands, is seen the lance,
Their thighs and stirrups quivering, like the spear.
King Pulian only marks the knight's advance,
Knowing Rinaldo not, unchanged in cheer;
Nor thinking such a cruel shock to meet,
Gallops against him on his courser fleet.
XLV
He stoops upon the weapon which he strains,
Whole and collected for the martial game:
Then to his horse abandoning the reins,
And goading with both spurs the courser, came.
Upon the other side no valour feigns,
But shows, by doings, what he is in name;
-- With what rare grace and matchless art he wars,
The son of Aymon, rather son of Mars.

XLVI
Well-matched in skill, they aimed their cruel blows,
With lances at each other's heads addrest;
Ill matched, in arms and valour, were the foes,
For this past on, and that the champaigne prest.
More certain proof of worth, when warriors close,
There needs than knightly lance, well placed in rest;
But Fortune even more than Valour needs,
Which ill, without her saving succour, speeds.

XLVII
With the good spear new levelled in his fist,
At Oran's king behold Rinaldo dart.
Of bulk, and bone, and sinew, to resist
The monarch was, but ill supplied with heart.
And his might pass for a fair stroke in list,
Though planted in the buckler's nether part.
Let those excuse it who refuse to admire,
Since the good paladin could reach no higher.

XLVIII
Nor did the buckler so the weapon stay,
Though made of palm within, and steel without,
But that it pierced the paunch, and made a way
To let that mean and ill matched spirit out.
The courser, who had deemed that all the day
He must so huge a burden bear about,
Thanked in his heart the warrior, who well met,
Had thus preserved him from so sore a sweat.

XLIX
Rinaldo, having broke his rested spear,
So wheels his horse, he seems equipt with wings;
Who, turning swiftly with the cavalier,
Amid the closest crowd, impetuous springs.
Composed of brittle glass the arms appear
Where Sir Rinaldo red Fusberta swings.
Nor tempered steel is there, nor corslet thick,
Which keeps the sword from biting to the quick.

L
Yet few the tempered plates or iron pins
With which encounters that descending brand;
But targets, some of oak and some of skins,
And quilted vest and turban's twisted band.
Lightly such drapery good Rinaldo thins,
And cleaves, and bores, and shears, on either hand;
Nor better from his sword escapes the swarm,
Than grass from sweeping scythe, or grain from storm.

LI
The foremost squadron had been put to flight,
When thither the vanguard Zerbino led.