XII He at his head took aim who stood most nigh; Ughetto was the miserable wight, Whom to the teeth he clove, and left to die; Though of good temper was his helmet bright. As well the others many strokes let fly At him, himself; which all the warrior smite, But harm (so hard the dragon's hide) no more, Than needle can the solid anvil score. XIII All the defences, round, abandoned are, The unpeopled city is abandoned all; For, where the danger is the greater, there The many give their aid, at Charles' call: Through every street they hurry to the square, Since flying nought avails, from work and wall. Their bosoms so the monarch's presence warms, That each again takes courage, each takes arms. XIV As when within the closely-fastened cage Of an old lioness, well used to fight, An untamed bull is prisoned, to engage The savage monster, for the mob's delight; The cubs, who see him cresting in his rage, And round the den loud-bellowing, to the sight Of the huge beast's enormous horns unused, Cower at a distance, timid and confused; XV But if the mother spring at him, and hang, Fixing her cruel tusks into his ear, Her whelps as well will blood their greedy fang, And, bold in her defence, assail the steer: One bites his paunch, and one his back: so sprang That band upon the paynim cavalier. From roof and window, and from place more nigh, Poured in a ceaseless shower, the weapons fly. XVI Of cavaliers and footmen such the squeeze, That hardly can the place the press contain: They cluster there as thick as swarming bees, Who thither from each passage troop amain. So that, were they unarmed, and with more ease Than stalks or turnips he could cleave the train, Ill Rodomont in twenty days would clear The gathering crowd, united far and near. XVII Unknowing how himself from thence to free, The paynim by this game is angered sore, Who little thins the gathering rabblery, Staining the ground with thousands slain or more; And all the while, in his extremity, Finds that his breath comes thicker than before; And sees he cannot pierce the hostile round, Unless he thence escape while strong and sound. XVIII The monarch rolls about his horrid eyes, And sees that foes all outlets barricade; But, at the cost of countless enemies, A path shall quickly by his hand be made. Where Fury calls him, lo! the felon hies, And brandishes on high his trenchant blade, To assail the newly entered British band, Which Edward and Sir Ariman command. XIX He who has seen the fence, in well-thonged square, (Against whose stakes the eddying crowd is born) By wild bull broken, that has had to bear, Through the long day, dogs, blows, and ceaseless scorn; Who hunts the scattered people here and there, And this, or that, now hoists upon his horn; Let him as such, or fiercer yet, account, When he breaks forth, the cruel Rodomont.