LXXXIV And gainst his face, where love and pity stand, To pray him that rich throne of beauty spare, The cruel man stretched forth his murdering hand, To spoil those gifts, whereof he had no share: It seemed remorse and sense was in his brand Which, lighting flat, to hurt the lad forbare; But all for naught, gainst him the point he bent That, what the edge had spared, pierced and rent.
LXXXV Fierce Solyman that with Godfredo strived Who first should enter conquest’s glorious gate, Left off the fray and thither headlong drived, When first he saw the lad in such estate; He brake the press, and soon enough arrived To take revenge, but to his aid too late, Because he saw his Lesbine slain and lost, Like a sweet flower nipped with untimely frost.
LXXXVI He saw wax dim the starlight of his eyes, His ivory neck upon his shoulders fell, In his pale looks kind pity’s image lies, That death even mourned, to hear his passing bell. His marble heart such soft impression tries, That midst his wrath his manly tears outwell, Thou weepest, Solyman, thou that beheld Thy kingdoms lost, and not one tear could yield.
LXXXVII But when the murderer’s sword he hapt to view Dropping with blood of his Lesbino dead, His pity vanished, ire and rage renew, He had no leisure bootless tears to shed; But with his blade on Argillano flew, And cleft his shield, his helmet, and his head, Down to his throat; and worthy was that blow Of Solyman, his strength and wrath to show:
LXXXVIII And not content with this, down from his horse He lights, and that dead carcass rent and tore, Like a fierce dog that takes his angry course To bite the stone which had him hit before. Oh comfort vain for grief of so great force, To wound the senseless earth that feels no sore! But mighty Godfrey ’gainst the Soldan’s train Spent not, this while, his force and blows in vain.
LXXXIX A thousand hardy Turks affront he had In sturdy iron armed from head to foot, Resolved in all adventures good or bad, In actions wise, in execution stout, Whom Solyman into Arabia lad, When from his kingdom he was first cast out, Where living wild with their exiled guide To him in all extremes they faithful bide;
XC All these in thickest order sure unite, For Godfrey’s valor small or nothing shrank, Corcutes first he on the face did smite, Then wounded strong Rosteno in the flank, At one blow Selim’s head he stroke off quite, Then both Rossano’s arms, in every rank The boldest knights, of all that chosen crew, He felled, maimed, wounded, hurt and slew.