Ben degna alcun magnanima nipote.
Tre anni son ch’ è in guerra: e intempestiva
Molle piuma del mento appena usciva.
Many a lad of this generation has indeed imitated his “noble flight”; has seen three years of war—and what a war!—ere his face first felt the touch of the razor. They have sped forth from the fields, from the mines and mills, and from luxurious homes where too much softness was in danger of undermining their manhood. They have “climbed the steep ascent” of the Hill of Valour—they have, in fact, heard and responded to a call like that which came to Rinaldo after he had lain spell-bound in Armida’s Garden, (xvii. 61)—
Signor, non sotto l’ ombra in piaggia molle
Tra fonti e fior, tra ninfe e tra sirene
Ma in cima all’ erto e faticoso colle
Della virtù è riposto il nostro bene.
“They in a short time have fulfilled a long time.” For them the fruits of manhood have followed hard upon the bloom of youth. In them soft gentleness is conjoined with royalty of mien and soldierly bearing. In battle, Mars; in face, Eros; the cynosure of a world’s admiring eyes—Behold Rinaldo!
Dolcemente feroce alzar vedresti