XII “But if you follow me, within this wall With Christian arms hemmed in on every side, Withouten battle, fight, or stroke at all, Even at noonday, I will you safely guide, Where you delight, rejoice, and glory shall In perils great to see your prowess tried. That noble town you may preserve and shield, Till Egypt’s host come to renew the field.”
XIII While thus he parleyed, of this aged guest The Turk the words and looks did both admire, And from his haughty eyes and furious breast He laid apart his pride, his rage and ire, And humbly said, “I willing am and prest To follow where thou leadest, reverend sire, And that advice best fits my angry vein That tells of greatest peril, greatest pain.”
XIV The old man praised his words, and for the air His late received wounds to worse disposes, A quintessence therein he poured fair, That stops the bleeding, and incision closes: Beholding then before Apollo’s chair How fresh Aurora violets strewed and roses, “It’s time,” he says, “to wend, for Titan bright To wonted labor summons every wight.”
XV And to a chariot, that beside did stand, Ascended he, and with him Solyman, He took the reins, and with a mastering hand Ruled his steeds, and whipped them now and than, The wheels or horses’ feet upon the land Had left no sign nor token where they ran, The coursers pant and smoke with lukewarm sweat And, foaming cream, their iron mouthfuls eat.
XVI The air about them round, a wondrous thing, Itself on heaps in solid thickness drew, The chariot hiding and environing, The subtle mist no mortal eye could view; And yet no stone from engine cast or sling Could pierce the cloud, it was of proof so true; Yet seen it was to them within which ride, And heaven and earth without, all clear beside.
XVII His beetle brows the Turk amazed bent, He wrinkled up his front, and wildly stared Upon the cloud and chariot as it went, For speed to Cynthia’s car right well compared: The other seeing his astonishment How he bewondered was, and how he fared, All suddenly by name the prince gan call, By which awaked thus he spoke withal:
XVIII “Whoe’er thou art above all worldly wit That hast these high and wondrous marvels brought, And know’st the deep intents which hidden sit In secret closet of man’s private thought, If in thy skilful heart this lot be writ, To tell the event of things to end unbrought; Then say, what issue and what ends the stars Allot to Asia’s troubles, broils and wars.