CXVII.
’Tis thus, ’mid fire and ruin, all assay
To mount the wall; but others to assure
Themselves, some safer passage seek, where they
Will have least pain and peril to endure.
Rodomont only scorns by any way
To wend, except by what is least secure;
And in that desperate case, where others made
Their offerings, cursed the god to whom they prayed.
CXVIII.
He in a cuirass, hard and strong, was drest;
A dragon-skin it was with scaly quilt,
Which erst secured the manly back and breast
Of his bold ancestor, that Babel built;
Who hoped the rule of heaven from God to wrest,
And him would from his golden dome have spilt.
Perfect, and for this end alone, were made
Helmet and shield as well as trenchant blade.
CXIX.
Nor Rodomont to Nimrod yields in might,
Proud and untamed; and who would not forbear
To scale the lofty firmament till night,
Could he in this wide world descry the stair[19].
He stood not, he, to mark the bulwark’s plight,
Nor if the fosse of certain bottom were.
He past, ran,—rather flew across the moat,
Plunging in filth and water to his throat.
