Mano a poetical history of the time of the close of the tenth century concerning the adventures of a Norman knight which fell part in Normandy part in Italy. In four books. By Richard Watson Dixon |
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| III. |
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| V. |
| VI. | VI.— OF A BATTLE WITH THE SARACENS: AND OF OUR COMING TO A LOMBARDIAN TOWN. |
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| III. |
| IV. |
 | Mano |  |
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VI.— OF A BATTLE WITH THE SARACENS: AND OF OUR COMING TO A LOMBARDIAN TOWN.
Now when our road left that high mountain stage,And issued fair on the Lombardian plain,
The Saracens came on us, full of rage
That we had passed unspied their guardian chain.
And this last storm fell furious on our rear.
But soon our horsemen charged back amain,
And through the valley long, at point of spear
Repelled them: and so hotly them pursued,
That to their hills they wished themselves more near.
Thus in this region was again made good
The Norman fighting, which doth still prevail
O'er all that hath in war against it stood,—
The Saracen's curved sword and light-wrought mail,
The Teuton's straight sword and thick-forged plates,
The Greekish spear and targe: for, scale on scale
Of iron upon canvas stitched in plaits,
Strong and yet agile, swift but close in fight,
So clad 'gainst all himself the Norman mates.
We held the field and all confessed our might:
And, victory with little pain achieved,
We moved toward a town which rose in sight.
And to that pleasant place we were received
Right willingly by the Lombardian men,
Who through great fear had their high walls upheaved,
And from tall castles overlooked the plain:
Dreading an enemy more fierce and fell
Than the Alpine foe, than e'en the Saracen.
For here the Ungrian, who doth all excel
In cruelty and greed, still makes his road,
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Scarce might the land be tilled; and no abode
Outside the walled city lay secure:
The farmer in the walls his crop bestowed,
Then guarded it in arms: glad to immure
In the ripe season what his pains had sown:
For oftener the sowings immature
His hand was forced to reap ere they were grown.—
Ah, grass and leaves may flourish all the year,
But corn and fruit one season only own.
So entered we, as bringing hope to fear,
And strength to weakness: and with welcome kind
Our leader was received, and gentle cheer.
And some days there did we refreshment find;
And walked the streets amid the people there,
The Huns being gone with the cold wintry wind.
For frost was ceased from out the pleasant air:
The blue sky shone with those white clouds of Spring
Which the mild shepherd Zephyr drives with care;
That herd whose sweet milk fattens everything.
Such pleasantness we found within the walls
Which now begirt us with their lofty ring:
And the new-leaved trees hard by the halls
Where we were lodged, rose sweetly in the sky:
And in them made full many a bird his calls,
And from love's unseen echo got reply.—
So pleasant was the place which was the seat
Of the great teacher of an heresy;
For here abode that sophist false but sweet,
Vilgardus named, surnamed Grammarian,
Whose errors in all lands did Fame repeat.
Even he it was, of whom the story ran
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The fiends by night, and seized upon the man:
Who thenceforth wicked blasphemies gan frame,
And everywhere the same with zeal to spread:
Whereby full many fell to sword and flame.
Him in this town we found, it is no dread:
An aged man, yet fresh as any child,
Bearing white hairs upon his ruddy head;
Firm-eyed, and of behaviour sweet and mild;
So that of him but little would be thought
That many his false teaching had beguiled.
And in those days Sir Mano to him sought,
And held with him much converse; which in part
I heard; and of the rest by Mano taught,
The sum of all I shall to you impart.
| Mano | |