Chapter XI: Part 11

LXIV “The fields for combat here are beds of down, Or heaped lilies under shady brakes; But come and see our queen with golden crown, That all her servants blest and happy makes, She will admit you gently for her own, Numbered with those that of her joy partakes: But first within this lake your dust and sweat Wash off, and at that table sit and eat.”

LXV While thus she sung, her sister lured them nigh With many a gesture kind and loving show, To music’s sound as dames in court apply Their cunning feet, and dance now swift now slow: But still the knights unmoved passed by, These vain delights for wicked charms they know, Nor could their heavenly voice or angel’s look, Surprise their hearts, if eye or ear they took.

LXVI For if that sweetness once but touched their hearts, And proffered there to kindle Cupid’s fire, Straight armed Reason to his charge up starts, And quencheth Lust, and killeth fond Desire; Thus scorned were the dames, their wiles and arts And to the palace gates the knights retire, While in their stream the damsels dived sad, Ashamed, disgraced, for that repulse they had.

SIXTEENTH BOOK

THE ARGUMENT. The searchers pass through all the palace bright Where in sweet prison lies Rinaldo pent, And do so much, that full of rage and spite, With them he goes sad, shamed, discontent: With plaints and prayers to retain her knight Armida strives; he hears, but thence he went, And she forlorn her palace great and fair Destroys for grief, and flies thence through the air.

I The palace great is builded rich and round, And in the centre of the inmost hold There lies a garden sweet, on fertile ground, Fairer than that where grew the trees of gold: The cunning sprites had buildings reared around With doors and entries false a thousandfold, A labyrinth they made that fortress brave, Like Daedal’s prison, or Porsenna’s grave.

II The knights passed through the castle’s largest gate, Though round about an hundred ports there shine, The door-leaves framed of carved silver-plate, Upon their golden hinges turn and twine. They stayed to view this work of wit and state. The workmanship excelled the substance fine, For all the shapes in that rich metal wrought, Save speech, of living bodies wanted naught.

III Alcides there sat telling tales, and spun Among the feeble troops of damsels mild, He that the fiery gates of hell had won And heaven upheld; false Love stood by and smiled: Armed with his club fair Iole forth run, His club with blood of monsters foul defiled, And on her back his lion’s skin had she, Too rough a bark for such a tender tree.

IV Beyond was made a sea, whose azure flood The hoary froth crushed from the surges blue, Wherein two navies great well ranged stood Of warlike ships, fire from their arms outflew, The waters burned about their vessels good, Such flames the gold therein enchased threw, Caesar his Romans hence, the Asian kings Thence Antony and Indian princes brings.

V The Cyclades seemed to swim amid the main, And hill gainst hill, and mount gainst mountain smote, With such great fury met those armies twain; Here burnt a ship, there sunk a bark or boat, Here darts and wild-fire flew, there drowned or slain Of princes dead the bodies fleet and float; Here Caesar wins, and yonder conquered been The Eastern ships, there fled the Egyptian queen:

VI Antonius eke himself to flight betook, The empire lost to which he would aspire, Yet fled not he nor fight for fear forsook, But followed her, drawn on by fond desire: Well might you see within his troubled look, Strive and contend, love, courage, shame and ire; Oft looked he back, oft gazed he on the fight, But oftener on his mistress and her flight.

VII Then in the secret creeks of fruitful Nile, Cast in her lap, he would sad death await, And in the pleasure of her lovely smile Sweeten the bitter stroke of cursed fate: All this did art with curious hand compile In the rich metal of that princely gate. The knights these stories viewed first and last, Which seen, they forward pressed, and in they passed:

VIII As through his channel crooked Meander glides With turns and twines, and rolls now to, now fro, Whose streams run forth there to the salt sea sides Here back return and to their springward go: Such crooked paths, such ways this palace hides; Yet all the maze their map described so, That through the labyrinth they got in fine, As Theseus did by Ariadne’s line.

IX When they had passed all those troubled ways, The garden sweet spread forth her green to show, The moving crystal from the fountains plays, Fair trees, high plants, strange herbs and flowerets new, Sunshiny hills, dales hid from Phoebus’ rays, Groves, arbors, mossy caves, at once they view, And that which beauty moat, most wonder brought, Nowhere appeared the art which all this wrought.

X So with the rude the polished mingled was That natural seemed all and every part, Nature would craft in counterfeiting pass, And imitate her imitator art: Mild was the air, the skies were clear as glass, The trees no whirlwind felt, nor tempest smart, But ere the fruit drop off, the blossom comes, This springs, that falls, that ripeneth and this blooms.

XI The leaves upon the self-same bough did hide Beside the young the old and ripened fig, Here fruit was green, there ripe with vermeil side, The apples new and old grew on one twig, The fruitful vine her arms spread high and wide That bended underneath their clusters big, The grapes were tender here, hard, young and sour, There purple ripe, and nectar sweet forth pour.

XII The joyous birds, hid under greenwood shade, Sung merry notes on every branch and bough, The wind that in the leaves and waters played With murmur sweet, now sung, and whistled now; Ceased the birds, the wind loud answer made, And while they sung, it rumbled soft and low; Thus were it hap or cunning, chance or art, The wind in this strange music bore his part.

XIII With party-colored plumes’ and purple bill, A wondrous bird among the rest there flew, That in plain speech sung love-lays loud and shrill, Her leden was like human language true; So much she talked, and with such wit and skill, That strange it seemed how much good she knew, Her feathered fellows all stood hush to hear, Dumb was the wind, the waters silent were.

XIV “The gently budding rose,” quoth she, “behold, That first scant peeping forth with virgin beams, Half ope, half shut, her beauties doth upfold In their dear leaves, and less seen, fairer seems, And after spreads them forth more broad and bold, Then languisheth and dies in last extremes, Nor seems the same, that decked bed and bower Of many a lady late, and paramour;

XV “So, in the passing of a day, doth pass The bud and blossom of the life of man, Nor e’er doth flourish more, but like the grass Cut down, becometh withered, pale and wan: Oh gather then the rose while time thou hast Short is the day, done when it scant began, Gather the rose of love, while yet thou mayest, Loving, be loved; embracing, be embraced.”

XVI He ceased, and as approving all he spoke, The choir of birds their heavenly tunes renew, The turtles sighed, and sighs with kisses broke, The fowls to shades unseen by pairs withdrew; It seemed the laurel chaste, and stubborn oak, And all the gentle trees on earth that grew, It seemed the land, the sea, and heaven above, All breathed out fancy sweet, and sighed out love.

XVII Through all this music rare, and strong consent Of strange allurements, sweet bove mean and measure, Severe, firm, constant, still the knights forthwent, Hardening their hearts gainst false enticing pleasure, Twixt leaf and leaf their sight before they sent, And after crept themselves at ease and leisure, Till they beheld the queen, set with their knight Besides the lake, shaded with boughs from sight:

XVIII Her breasts were naked, for the day was hot, Her locks unbound waved in the wanton wind; Some deal she sweat, tired with the game you wot, Her sweat-drops bright, white, round, like pearls of Ind; Her humid eyes a fiery smile forthshot That like sunbeams in silver fountains shined, O’er him her looks she hung, and her soft breast The pillow was, where he and love took rest.

XIX His hungry eyes upon her face he fed, And feeding them so, pined himself away; And she, declining often down her head, His lips, his cheeks, his eyes kissed, as he lay, Wherewith he sighed, as if his soul had fled From his frail breast to hers, and there would stay With her beloved sprite: the armed pair These follies all beheld and this hot fare.

XX Down by the lovers’ side there pendent was A crystal mirror, bright, pure, smooth, and neat, He rose, and to his mistress held the glass, A noble page, graced with that service great; She, with glad looks, he with inflamed, alas, Beauty and love beheld, both in one seat; Yet them in sundry objects each espies, She, in the glass, he saw them in her eyes:

XXI Her, to command; to serve, it pleased the knight; He proud of bondage; of her empire, she; “My dear,” he said, “that blessest with thy sight Even blessed angels, turn thine eyes to me, For painted in my heart and portrayed right Thy worth, thy beauties and perfections be, Of which the form; the shape and fashion best, Not in this glass is seen, but in my breast.

XXII “And if thou me disdain, yet be content At least so to behold thy lovely hue, That while thereon thy looks are fixed and bent Thy happy eyes themselves may see and view; So rare a shape no crystal can present, No glass contain that heaven of beauties true; Oh let the skies thy worthy mirror be! And in dear stars try shape and image see.”

XXIII And with that word she smiled, and ne’ertheless Her love-toys still she used, and pleasures bold! Her hair, that done, she twisted up in tress, And looser locks in silken laces rolled, Her curles garlandwise she did up-dress, Wherein, like rich enamel laid on gold, The twisted flowers smiled, and her white breast The lilies there that spring with roses dressed.

XXIV The jolly peacock spreads not half so fair The eyed feathers of his pompous train; Nor golden Iris so bends in the air Her twenty-colored bow, through clouds of rain; Yet all her ornaments, strange, rich and rare, Her girdle did in price and beauty stain, Nor that, with scorn, which Tuscan Guilla lost, Igor Venus Ceston, could match this for cost.

XXV Of mild denays, of tender scorns, of sweet Repulses, war, peace, hope, despair, joy, fear, Of smiles, jests, mirth, woe, grief, and sad regreet, Sighs, sorrows, tears, embracements, kisses dear, That mixed first by weight and measure meet, Then at an easy fire attempered were, This wondrous girdle did Armida frame, And, when she would be loved, wore the same.

XXVI But when her wooing fit was brought to end, She congee took, kissed him, and went her way; For once she used every day to wend Bout her affairs, her spells and charms to say: The youth remained, yet had no power to bend One step from thence, but used there to stray Mongst the sweet birds, through every walk and grove Alone, save for an hermit false called Love.

XXVII And when the silence deep and friendly shade Recalled the lovers to their wonted sport, In a fair room for pleasure built, they laid, And longest nights with joys made sweet and short. Now while the queen her household things surveyed, And left her lord her garden and disport, The twain that hidden in the bushes were Before the prince in glistering arms appear:

XXVIII As the fierce steed for age withdrawn from war Wherein the glorious beast had always wone, That in vile rest from fight sequestered far, Feeds with the mares at large, his service done, If arms he see, or hear the trumpet’s jar, He neigheth loud and thither fast doth run, And wiseth on his back the armed knight, Longing for jousts, for tournament and fight:

XXIX So fared Rinaldo when the glorious light Of their bright harness glistered in his eyes, His noble sprite awaked at that sight His blood began to warm, his heart to rise, Though, drunk with ease, devoid of wonted might On sleep till then his weakened virtue lies. Ubaldo forward stepped, and to him hield Of diamonds clear that pure and precious shield.

XXX Upon the targe his looks amazed he bent, And therein all his wanton habit spied, His civet, balm, and perfumes redolent, How from his locks they smoked and mantle wide, His sword that many a Pagan stout had shent, Bewrapped with flowers, hung idly by his side, So nicely decked that it seemed the knight Wore it for fashion’s sake but not for fight.

XXXI As when, from sleep and idle dreams abraid, A man awaked calls home his wits again; So in beholding his attire he played, But yet to view himself could not sustain, His looks he downward cast and naught he said, Grieved, shamed, sad, he would have died fain, And oft he wished the earth or ocean wide Would swallow him, and so his errors hide.

XXXII Ubaldo took the time, and thus begun, “All Europe now and Asia be in war, And all that Christ adore and fame have won, In battle strong, in Syria fighting are; But thee alone, Bertoldo’s noble son, This little corner keeps, exiled far From all the world, buried in sloth and shame, A carpet champion for a wanton dame.

XXXIII “What letharge hath in drowsiness up-penned Thy courage thus? what sloth doth thee infect? Up, up, our camp and Godfrey for thee send, Thee fortune, praise and victory expect, Come, fatal champion, bring to happy end This enterprise begun, all that sect Which oft thou shaken hast to earth full low With thy sharp brand strike down, kill, overthrow.”

XXXIV This said, the noble infant stood a space Confused, speechless, senseless, ill-ashamed; But when that shame to just disdain gave place, To fierce disdain, from courage sprung untamed, Another redness blushed through his face, Whence worthy anger shone, displeasure flamed, His nice attire in scorn he rent and tore, For of his bondage vile that witness bore;

XXXV That done, he hasted from the charmed fort, And through the maze passed with his searchers twain. Armida of her mount and chiefest port Wondered to find the furious keeper slain, Awhile she feared, but she knew in short, That her dear lord was fled, then saw she plain, Ah, woful sight! how from her gates the man In haste, in fear, in wrath, in anger ran.

XXXVI “Whither, O cruel! leavest thou me alone?” She would have cried, her grief her speeches stayed, So that her woful words are backward gone, And in her heart a bitter echo made; Poor soul, of greater skill than she was one Whose knowledge from her thus her joy conveyed, This wist she well, yet had desire to prove If art could keep, if charms recall her love.

XXXVII All what the witches of Thessalia land, With lips unpure yet ever said or spake, Words that could make heaven’s rolling circles stand, And draw the damned ghosts from Limbo lake, All well she knew, but yet no time she fand To use her knowledge or her charms to make, But left her arts, and forth she ran to prove If single beauty were best charm for love.

XXXVIII She ran, nor of her honor took regard, Oh where be all her vaunts and triumphs now? Love’s empire great of late she made or marred, To her his subjects humbly bend and bow, And with her pride mixed was a scorn so hard, That to be loved she loved, yet whilst they woo Her lovers all she hates; that pleased her will To conquer men, and conquered so, to kill.

XXXIX But now herself disdained, abandoned, Ran after him; that from her fled in scorn, And her despised beauty labored With humble plaints and prayers to adorn: She ran and hasted after him that fled, Through frost and snow, through brier, bush and thorn, And sent her cries on message her before, That reached not him till he had reached the shore.

XL “Oh thou that leav’st but half behind,” quoth she, “Of my poor heart, and half with thee dost carry, Oh take this part, or render that to me, Else kill them both at once, ah tarry, tarry: Hear my last words, no parting kiss of thee I crave, for some more fit with thee to marry Keep them, unkind; what fear’st thou if thou stay? Thou may’st deny, as well as run away.”

XLI At this Rinaldo stopped, stood still, and stayed, She came, sad, breathless, weary, faint and weak, So woe-begone was never nymph or maid And yet her beauty’s pride grief could not break, On him she looked, she gazed, but naught she said, She would not, could not, or she durst not speak, At her he looked not, glanced not, if he did, Those glances shamefaced were, close, secret, hid.

XLII As cunning singers, ere they strain on high, In loud melodious tunes, their gentle voice, Prepare the hearers’ ears to harmony With feignings sweet, low notes and warbles choice: So she, not having yet forgot pardie Her wonted shifts and sleights in Cupid’s toys, A sequence first of sighs and sobs forthcast, To breed compassion dear, then spake at last:

XLIII “Suppose not, cruel, that I come to vow Or pray, as ladies do their loves and lords; Such were we late, if thou disdain it now, Or scorn to grant such grace as love affords, At least yet as an enemy listen thou: Sworn foes sometimes will talk and chaffer words, For what I ask thee, may’st thou grant right well, And lessen naught thy wrath and anger fell.

XLIV “If me thou hate, and in that hate delight, I come not to appease thee, hate me still, It’s like for like; I bore great hate and spite Gainst Christians all, chiefly I wish thee ill: I was a Pagan born, and all my might Against Godfredo bent, mine art and skill: I followed thee, took thee, and bore thee far, To this strange isle, and kept thee safe from war.

XLV “And more, which more thy hate may justly move, More to thy loss, more to thy shame and grief, I thee inchanted, and allured to love, Wicked deceit, craft worthy sharp reprief; Mine honor gave I thee all gifts above, And of my beauties made thee lord and chief, And to my suitors old what I denayed, That gave I thee, my lover new, unprayed.

XLVI “But reckon that among, my faults, and let Those many wrongs provoke thee so to wrath, That hence thou run, and that at naught thou set This pleasant house, so many joys which hath; Go, travel, pass the seas, fight, conquest get, Destroy our faith, what shall I say, our faith? Ah no! no longer ours; before thy shrine Alone I pray, thou cruel saint of mine;

XLVII “All only let me go with thee, unkind, A small request although I were thy foe, The spoiler seldom leaves the prey behind, Who triumphs lets his captives with him go; Among thy prisoners poor Armida bind, And let the camp increase thy praises so, That thy beguiler so thou couldst beguile, And point at me, thy thrall and bondslave vile.

XLVIII “Despised bondslave, since my lord doth hate These locks, why keep I them or hold them dear? Come cut them off, that to my servile state My habit answer may, and all my gear: I follow thee in spite of death and fate, Through battles fierce where dangers most appear, Courage I have, and strength enough perchance, To lead thy courser spare, and bear thy lance:

XLIX “I will or bear, or be myself, thy shield, And to defend thy life, will lose mine own: This breast, this bosom soft shall be thy bield Gainst storms of arrows, darts and weapons thrown; Thy foes, pardie, encountering thee in field, Will spare to strike thee, mine affection known, Lest me they wound, nor will sharp vengeance take On thee, for this despised beauty’s sake.

L “O wretch! dare I still vaunt, or help invoke From this poor beauty, scorned and disdained?” She said no more, her tears her speeches broke, Which from her eyes like streams from springs down rained: She would have caught him by the hand or cloak, But he stepped backward, and himself restrained, Conquered his will, his heart ruth softened not, There plaints no issue, love no entrance got.

LI Love entered not to kindle in his breast, Which Reason late had quenched, his wonted flame; Yet entered Pity in the place at least, Love’s sister, but a chaste and sober dame, And stirred him so, that hardly he suppressed The springing tears that to his eyes up came; But yet even there his plaints repressed were, And, as he could, he looked, and feigned cheer.

LII “Madam,” quoth he, “for your distress I grieve, And would amend it, if I might or could. From your wise heart that fond affection drive: I cannot hate nor scorn you though I would, I seek no vengeance, wrongs I all forgive, Nor you my servant nor my foe I hold, Truth is, you erred, and your estate forgot, Too great your hate was, and your love too hot.

LIII “But those are common faults, and faults of kind, Excused by nature, by your sex and years; I erred likewise, if I pardon find None can condemn you, that our trespass hears; Your dear remembrance will I keep in mind, In joys, in woes, in comforts, hopes and fears, Call me your soldier and your knight, as far As Christian faith permits, and Asia’s war.

LIV “Ah, let our faults and follies here take end, And let our errors past you satisfy, And in this angle of the world ypend, Let both the fame and shame thereof now die, From all the earth where I am known and kenned, I wish this fact should still concealed lie: Nor yet in following me, poor knight, disgrace Your worth, your beauty, and your princely race.

LV “Stay here in peace, I go, nor wend you may With me, my guide your fellowship denies, Stay here or hence depart some better way, And calm your thoughts, you are both sage and wise.” While thus he spoke, her passions found no stay, But here and there she turned and rolled her eyes, And staring on his face awhile, at last Thus in foul terms, her bitter wrath forth brast:

LVI “Of Sophia fair thou never wert the child, Nor of the Azzain race ysprung thou art, The mad sea-waves thee hare, some tigress wild On Caucasus’ cold crags nursed thee apart; Ah, cruel man l in whom no token mild Appears, of pity, ruth, or tender heart, Could not my griefs, my woes, my plaints, and all One sigh strain from thy breast, one tear make fall?

LVII “What shall I say, or how renew my speech? He scorns me, leaves me, bids me call him mine: The victor hath his foe within his reach; Yet pardons her, that merits death and pine; Hear how he counsels me; how he can preach, Like chaste Xenocrates, gainst love divine; O heavens, O gods! why do these men of shame, Thus spoil your temples and blaspheme your name?

LVIII “Go cruel, go, go with such peace, such rest, Such joy, such comfort, as thou leavest me here: My angry soul discharged from this weak breast, Shall haunt thee ever, and attend thee near, And fury-like in snakes and firebrands dressed, Shall aye torment thee, whom it late held dear: And if thou ’scape the seas, the rocks, and sands And come to fight among the Pagan bands,

LIX “There lying wounded, mongst the hurt and slain, Of these my wrongs thou shalt the vengeance bear, And oft Armida shalt thou call in vain, At thy last gasp; this hope I soon to hear:” Here fainted she, with sorrow, grief and pain, Her latest words scant well expressed were, But in a swoon on earth outstretched she lies, Stiff were her frozen limbs, closed were her eyes.

LX Thou closed thine eyes, Armida, heaven envied Ease to thy grief, or comfort to thy woe; Ah, open then again, see tears down slide From his kind eyes, whom thou esteem’st thy foe, If thou hadst heard, his sighs had mollified Thine anger, hard he sighed and mourned so; And as he could with sad and rueful look His leave of thee and last farewell he took.

LXI What should he do? leave on the naked sand This woful lady half alive, half dead? Kindness forbade, pity did that withstand; But hard constraint, alas! did thence him lead; Away he went, the west wind blew from land Mongst the rich tresses of their pilot’s head, And with that golden sail the waves she cleft, To land he looked, till land unseen he left.

LXII Waked from her trance, foresaken, speechless, sad, Armida wildly stared and gazed about, “And is he gone,” quoth she, “nor pity had To leave me thus twixt life and death in doubt? Could he not stay? could not the traitor-lad From this last trance help or recall me out? And do I love him still, and on this sand Still unrevenged, still mourn, still weeping stand?

LXIII “Fie no! complaints farewell! with arms and art I will pursue to death this spiteful knight, Not earth’s low centre, nor sea’s deepest part, Not heaven, nor hell, can shield him from my might, I will o’ertake him, take him, cleave his heart, Such vengeance fits a wronged lover’s spite, In cruelty that cruel knight surpass I will, but what avail vain words, alas?

LXIV “O fool! thou shouldest have been cruel than, For then this cruel well deserved thine ire, When thou in prison hadst entrapped the man, Now dead with cold, too late thou askest fire; But though my wit, my cunning nothing can, Some other means shall work my heart’s desire, To thee, my beauty, thine be all these wrongs, Vengeance to thee, to thee revenge belongs.

LXV “Thou shalt be his reward, with murdering brand That dare this traitor of his head deprive, O you my lovers, on this rock doth stand The castle of her love for whom you strive, I, the sole heir of all Damascus land, For this revenge myself and kingdom give, If by this price my will I cannot gain, Nature gives beauty; fortune, wealth in vain.

LXVI “But thee, vain gift, vain beauty, thee I scorn, I hate the kingdom which I have to give, I hate myself, and rue that I was born, Only in hope of sweet revenge I live.” Thus raging with fell ire she gan return From that bare shore in haste, and homeward drive, And as true witness of her frantic ire, Her locks waved loose, face shone, eyes sparkled fire.

LXVII When she came home, she called with outcries shrill, A thousand devils in Limbo deep that won, Black clouds the skies with horrid darkness fill, And pale for dread became the eclipsed sun, The whirlwind blustered big on every hill, And hell to roar under her feet begun, You might have heard how through the palace wide, Some spirits howled, some barked, some hissed, some cried.

LXVIII A shadow, blacker than the mirkest night, Environed all the place with darkness sad, Wherein a firebrand gave a dreadful light, Kindled in hell by Tisiphone the mad; Vanished the shade, the sun appeared in sight, Pale were his beams, the air was nothing glad, And all the palace vanished was and gone, Nor of so great a work was left one stone.

LXIX As oft the clouds frame shapes of castles great Amid the air, that little time do last, But are dissolved by wind or Titan’s heat, Or like vain dreams soon made, and sooner past: The palace vanished so, nor in his seat Left aught but rocks and crags, by kind there placed; She in her coach which two old serpents drew, Sate down, and as she used, away she flew.

LXX She broke the clouds, and cleft the yielding sky, And bout her gathered tempest, storm and wind, The lands that view the south pole flew she by, And left those unknown countries far behind, The Straits of Hercules she passed, which lie Twixt Spain and Afric, nor her flight inclined To north or south, but still did forward ride O’er seas and streams, till Syria’s coasts she spied.

LXXI Now she went forward to Damascus fair, But of her country dear she fled the sight, And guided to Asphaltes’ lake her chair, Where stood her castle, there she ends her flight, And from her damsels far, she made repair To a deep vault, far from resort and light, Where in sad thoughts a thousand doubts she cast, Till grief and shame to wrath gave place at last.

LXXII “I will not hence,” quoth she, “till Egypt’s lord In aid of Zion’s king his host shall move; Then will I use all helps that charms afford, And change my shape or sex if so behove: Well can I handle bow, or lance, or sword, The worthies all will aid me, for my love: I seek revenge, and to obtain the same, Farewell, regard of honor; farewell, shame.

LXXIII “Nor let mine uncle and protector me Reprove for this, he most deserves the blame, My heart and sex, that weak and tender be, He bent to deeds that maidens ill became; His niece a wandering damsel first made he, He spurred my youth, and I cast off my shame, His be the fault, if aught gainst mine estate I did for love, or shall commit for hate.”

LXXIV This said, her knights, her ladies, pages, squires She all assembleth, and for journey fit In such fair arms and vestures them attires As showed her wealth, and well declared her wit; And forward marched, full of strange desires, Nor rested she by day or night one whit, Till she came there, where all the eastern bands, Their kings and princes, lay on Gaza’s sands.

SEVENTEENTH BOOK

THE ARGUMENT. Egypt’s great host in battle-ray forth brought, The Caliph sends with Godfrey’s power to fight; Armida, who Rinaldo’s ruin sought, To them adjoins herself and Syria’s might. To satisfy her cruel will and thought, She gives herself to him that kills her knight: He takes his fatal arms, and in his shield His ancestors and their great deeds beheld.

I Gaza the city on the frontier stands Of Juda’s realm, as men to Egypt ride, Built near the sea, beside it of dry sands Huge wildernesses lie and deserts wide Which the strong winds lift from the parched lands And toss like roaring waves in roughest tide, That from those storms poor passengers almost No refuge find, but there are drowned and lost.

II Within this town, won from the Turks of yore Strong garrison the king of Egypt placed, And for it nearer was, and fitted more That high emprise to which his thoughts he cast, He left great Memphis, and to Gaza bore His regal throne, and there, from countries vast Of his huge empire all the puissant host Assembled he, and mustered on the coast.

III Come say, my Muse, what manner times these were, And in those times how stood the state of things, What power this monarch had, what arms they bear, What nations subject, and what friends he brings; From all lands the southern ocean near, Or morning star, came princes, dukes and kings, And only thou of half the world well-nigh The armies, lords, and captains canst descry.

IV When Egypt from the Greekish emperor Rebelled first, and Christ’s true faith denied, Of Mahomet’s descent a warrior There set his throne and ruled that kingdom wide, Caliph he hight, and Caliphs since that hour Are his successors named all beside: So Nilus old his kings long time had seen That Ptolemies and Pharaohs called had been.

V Established was that kingdom in short while, And grew so great, that over Asia’s lands And Lybia’s realms it stretched many a mile, From Syria’s coasts as far as Cirene sands, And southward passed gainst the course of Nile, Through the hot clime where burnt Syene stands, Hence bounded in with sandy deserts waste, And thence with Euphrates’ rich flood embraced.

VI Maremma, myrrh and spices that doth bring, And all the rich red sea it comprehends, And to those lands, toward the morning spring That lie beyond that gulf, it far extends; Great is that empire, greater by the king That rules it now, whose worth the land amends, And makes more famous, lord thereof by blood, By wisdom, valor, and all virtues good.

VII With Turks and Persians war he oft did wage, And oft he won, and sometimes lost the field, Nor could his adverse fortune aught assuage His valor’s heat or make his proud heart yield, But when he grew unfit for war through age, He sheathed his sword and laid aside his shield: But yet his warlike mind he laid not down, Nor his great thirst of rule, praise and renown,

VIII But by his knights still cruel wars maintained. So wise his words, so quick his wit appears, That of the kingdom large o’er which he reigned, The charge seemed not too weighty for his years; His greatness Afric’s lesser kings constrained To tremble at his name, all Ind him fears, And other realms that would his friendship hold; Some armed soldiers sent, some gifts, some gold.

IX This mighty prince assembled had the flower Of all his realms, against the Frenchmen stout, To break their rising empire and their power, Nor of sure conquest had he fear or doubt: To him Armida came, even at the hour When in the plains, old Gaza’s walls without, The lords and leaders all their armies bring In battle-ray, mustered before their king.

X He on his throne was set, to which on height Who clomb an hundred ivory stairs first told, Under a pentise wrought of silver bright, And trod on carpets made of silk and gold; His robes were such as best beseemen might A king, so great, so grave, so rich, so old, And twined of sixty ells of lawn and more A turban strange adorned his tresses hoar.

XI His right hand did his precious sceptre wield, His beard was gray, his looks severe and grave, And from his eyes, not yet made dim with eild, Sparkled his former worth and vigor brave, His gestures all the majesty upheild And state, as his old age and empire crave, So Phidias carved, Apelles so, pardie, Erst painted Jove, Jove thundering down from sky.

XII On either side him stood a noble lord, Whereof the first held in his upright hand Of severe justice the unpartial sword; The other bare the seal, and causes scanned, Keeping his folk in peace and good accord, And termed was lord chancellor of the land; But marshal was the first, and used to lead His armies forth to war, oft with good speed.

XIII Of bold Circassians with their halberts long, About his throne his guards stood in a ring, All richly armed in gilden corslets strong, And by their sides their crooked swords down hing: Thus set, thus seated, his grave lords among, His hosts and armies great beheld the king, And every band as by his throne it went, Their ensigns low inclined, and arms down bent:

XIV Their squadrons first the men of Egypt show, In four troops, and each his several guide, Of the high country two, two of the low Which Nile had won out of the salt seaside, His fertile slime first stopped the waters’ flow, Then hardened to firm land the plough to bide, So Egypt still increased, within far placed That part is now where ships erst anchor cast.

XV The foremost band the people were that dwelled In Alexandria’s rich and fertile plain, Along the western shore, whence Nile expelled The greedy billows of the swelling main; Araspes was their guide, who more excelled In wit and craft than strength or warlike pain, To place an ambush close, or to devise A treason false, was none so sly, so wise.

XVI The people next that gainst the morning rays Along the coasts of Asia have their seat, Arontes led them, whom no warlike praise Ennobled, but high birth and titles great, His helm ne’er made him sweat in toilsome frays, Nor was his sleep e’er broke with trumpet’s threat, But from soft ease to try the toil of fight His fond ambition brought this carpet knight.

XVII The third seemed not a troop or squadron small, But an huge host; nor seemed it so much grain In Egypt grew as to sustain them all; Yet from one town thereof came all that train, A town in people to huge shires equal, That did a thousand streets and more contain, Great Caire it hight, whose commons from each side Came swarming out to war, Campson their guide.

XVIII Next under Gazel marched they that plough The fertile lands above that town which lie Up to the place where Nilus tumbling low Falls from his second cataract from high; The Egyptians weaponed were with sword and bow, No weight of helm or hauberk list they try, And richly armed, in their strong foes no dreed Of death but great desire of spoil they breed.

XIX The naked folk of Barca these succeed, Unarmed half, Alarcon led that band, That long in deserts lived, in extreme need, On spoils and preys purchased by strength of hand. To battle strong unfit, their king did lead His army next brought from Zumara land. Then he of Tripoli, for sudden fight And skirmish short, both ready, bold, and light.

XX Two captains next brought forth their bands to show Whom Stony sent and Happy Araby, Which never felt the cold of frost and snow, Or force of burning heat, unless fame lie, Where incense pure and all sweet odors grow, Where the sole phoenix doth revive, not die, And midst the perfumes rich and flowerets brave Both birth and burial, cradle hath and grave.

XXI Their clothes not rich, their garments were not gay, But weapons like the Egyptian troops they had, The Arabians next that have no certain stay, No house, no home, no mansion good or bad, But ever, as the Scythian hordes stray, From place to place their wandering cities gad: These have both voice and stature feminine, Hair long and black, black face, and fiery eyne.

XXII Long Indian canes, with iron armed, they bear, And as upon their nimble steeds they ride, Like a swift storm their speedy troops appear, If winds so fast bring storms from heavens wide: By Syphax led the first Arabians were; Aldine the second squadron had no guide, And Abiazar proud, brought to the fight The third, a thief, a murderer, not a knight.

XXIII The islanders came then their prince before Whose lands Arabia’s gulf enclosed about, Wherein they fish and gather oysters store, Whose shells great pearls rich and round pour out; The Red Sea sent with them from his left shore, Of negroes grim a black and ugly rout; These Agricalt and those Osmida brought, A man that set law, faith and truth at naught.

XXIV The Ethiops next which Meroe doth breed, That sweet and gentle isle of Meroe, Twixt Nile and Astrabore that far doth spread, Where two religions are, and kingdoms three, These Assimiro and Canario led, Both kings, both Pagans, and both subjects be To the great Caliph, but the third king kept Christ’s sacred faith, nor to these wars outstepped.

XXV After two kings, both subjects also, ride, And of two bands of archers had the charge, The first Soldan of Ormus placed in the wide Huge Persian Bay, a town rich, fair, and large: The last of Boecan, which at every tide The sea cuts off from Persia’s southern marge, And makes an isle; but when it ebbs again, The passage there is sandy, dry and plain.

XXVI Nor thee, great Altamore, in her chaste bed Thy loving queen kept with her dear embrace, She tore her locks, she smote her breast, and shed Salt tears to make thee stay in that sweet place, “Seem the rough seas more calm, cruel,” she said, “Than the mild looks of thy kind spouse’s face? Or is thy shield, with blood and dust defiled, A dearer armful than thy tender child?”

XXVII This was the mighty king of Samarcand, A captain wise, well skilled in feats of war, In courage fierce, matchless for strength of hand, Great was his praise, his force was noised far; His worth right well the Frenchmen understand, By whom his virtues feared and loved are: His men were armed with helms and hauberks strong, And by their sides broad swords and maces hong.

XXVIII Then from the mansions bright of fresh Aurore Adrastus came, the glorious king of Ind, A snake’s green skin spotted with black he wore, That was made rich by art and hard by kind, An elephant this furious giant bore, He fierce as fire, his mounture swift as wind; Much people brought he from his kingdoms wide, Twixt Indus, Ganges, and the salt seaside.

XXIX The king’s own troop come next, a chosen crew, Of all the camp the strength, the crown, the flower, Wherein each soldier had with honors due Rewarded been, for service ere that hour; Their arms were strong for need, and fair for show, Upon fierce steeds well mounted rode this power, And heaven itself with the clear splendor shone Of their bright armor, purple, gold and stone.

XXX Mongst these Alarco fierce, and Odemare The muster master was, and Hidraort, And Rimedon, whose rashness took no care To shun death’s bitter stroke, in field or fort, Tigranes, Rapold stem, the men that fare By sea, that robbed in each creek and port, Ormond, and Marlabust the Arabian named, Because that land rebellious he reclaimed.

XXXI There Pirga, Arimon, Orindo are, Brimarte the scaler, and with him Suifant The breaker of wild horses brought from far; Then the great wresteler strong Aridamant, And Tisapherne, the thunderbolt of war, Whom none surpassed, whom none to match durst vaunt At tilt, at tourney, or in combat brave, With spear or lance, with sword, with mace or glaive.

XXXII A false Armenian did this squadron guide, That in his youth from Christ’s true faith and light To the blind lore of Paganism did slide, That Clement late, now Emireno, hight; Yet to his king he faithful was, and tried True in all causes, his in wrong and right: A cunning leader and a soldier bold, For strength and courage, young; for wisdom, old.

XXXIII When all these regiments were passed and gone, Appeared Armide, and came her troop to show; Set in a chariot bright with precious stone, Her gown tucked up, and in her hand a bow; In her sweet face her new displeasures shone, Mixed with the native beauties there which grow, And quickened so her looks that in sharp wise It seems she threats and yet her threats entice.

XXXIV Her chariot like Aurora’s glorious wain, With carbuncles and jacinths glistered round: Her coachman guided with the golden rein Four unicorns, by couples yoked and bound; Of squires and lovely ladies hundreds twain, Whose rattling quivers at their backs resound, On milk-white steeds, wait on the chariot bright, Their steeds to manage, ready; swift, to flight.

XXXV Followed her troop led forth by Aradin, Which Hidraort from Syria’s kingdom sent, As when the new-born phoenix doth begin To fly to Ethiop-ward, at the fair bent Of her rich wings strange plumes and feathers thin Her crowns and chains with native gold besprent, The world amazed stands; and with her fly An host of wondering birds, that sing and cry:

XXXVI So passed Armida, looked on, gazed on, so, A wondrous dame in habit, gesture, face; There lived no wight to love so great a foe But wished and longed those beauties to embrace, Scant seen, with anger sullen, sad for woe, She conquered all the lords and knights in place, What would she do, her sorrows passed, think you, When her fair eyes, her looks and smiles shall woo?

XXXVII She passed, the king commanded Emiren Of his rich throne to mount the lofty stage, To whom his host, his army, and his men, He would commit, now in his graver age. With stately grace the man approached then; His looks his coming honor did presage: The guard asunder cleft and passage made, He to the throne up went, and there he stayed.

XXXVIII To earth he cast his eyes, and bent his knee: To whom the king thus gan his will explain, “To thee this sceptre, Emiren, to thee These armies I commit, my place sustain Mongst them, go set the king of Judah free, And let the Frenchmen feel my just disdain, Go meet them, conquer them, leave none alive; Or those that scape from battle, bring captive.”

XXXIX Thus spake the tyrant, and the sceptre laid With all his sovereign power upon the knight: “I take this sceptre at your hand,” he said, “And with your happy fortune go to fight, And trust, my lord, in your great virtue’s aid To venge all Asia’s harms, her wrongs to right, Nor e’er but victor will I see your face; Our overthrow shall bring death, not disgrace.

XL “Heavens grant if evil, yet no mishap I dread, Or harm they threaten against this camp of thine, That all that mischief fall upon my head, Theirs be the conquest, and the danger mine; And let them safe bring home their captain dead, Buried in pomp of triumph’s glorious shine.” He ceased, and then a murmur loud up went, With noise of joy and sound of instrument.

XLI Amid the noise and shout uprose the king, Environed with many a noble peer That to his royal tent the monarch bring, And there he feasted them and made them cheer, To him and him he talked, and carved each thing, The greatest honored, meanest graced were; And while this mirth, this joy and feast doth last, Armida found fit time her nets to cast:

XLII But when the feast was done, she, that espied All eyes on her fair visage fixed and bent, And by new notes and certain signs described, How love’s empoisoned fire their entrails brent, Arose, and where the king sate in his pride, With stately pace and humble gestures, went; And as she could in looks in voice she strove Fierce, stern, bold, angry, and severe to prove.

XLIII “Great Emperor, behold me here,” she said. “For thee, my country, and my faith to fight, A dame, a virgin, but a royal maid; And worthy seems this war a princess hight, For by the sword the sceptre is upstayed, This hand can use them both with skill and might, This hand of mine can strike, and at each blow Thy foes and ours kill, wound, and overthrow.

XLIV “Nor yet suppose this is the foremost day Wherein to war I bent my noble thought, But for the surety of thy realms, and stay Of our religion true, ere this I wrought: Yourself best know if this be true I say, Or if my former deeds rejoiced you aught, When Godfrey’s hardy knights and princes strong I captive took, and held in bondage long.

XLV “I took them, bound them, and so sent them bound To thee, a noble gift, with whom they had Condemned low in dungeon under ground Forever dwelt, in woe and torment sad: So might thine host an easy way have found To end this doubtful war, with conquest glad, Had not Rinaldo fierce my knights all slain, And set those lords, his friends, at large again.

XLVI “Rinaldo is well known,” and there a long And true rehearsal made she of his deeds, “This is the knight that since hath done me wrong, Wrong yet untold, that sharp revengement needs: Displeasure therefore, mixed with reason strong, This thirst of war in me, this courage breeds; Nor how he injured me time serves to tell, Let this suffice, I seek revengement fell,

XLVII “And will procure it, for all shafts that fly Light not in vain; some work the shooter’s will, And Jove’s right hand with thunders cast from sky Takes open vengeance oft for secret ill: But if some champion dare this knight defy To mortal battle, and by fight him kill, And with his hateful head will me present, That gift my soul shall please, my heart content:

XLVIII “So please, that for reward enjoy he shall, The greatest gift I can or may afford, Myself, my beauty, wealth, and kingdoms all, To marry him, and take him for my lord, This promise will I keep whate’er befall, And thereto bind myself by oath and word: Now he that deems this purchase worth his pain, Let him step forth and speak, I none disdain.”

XLIX While thus the princess said, his hungry eyne Adrastus fed on her sweet beauty’s light, “The gods forbid,” quoth he, “one shaft of thine Should be discharged gainst that discourteous knight, His heart unworthy is, shootress divine, Of thine artillery to feel the might; To wreak thine ire behold me prest and fit, I will his head cut off, and bring thee it.

L “I will his heart with this sharp sword divide, And to the vultures cast his carcass out.” Thus threatened he, but Tisapherne envied To hear his glorious vaunt and boasting stout, And said, “But who art thou, that so great pride Thou showest before the king, me, and this rout? Pardie here are some such, whose worth exceeds Thy vaunting much yet boast not of their deeds.”

LI The Indian fierce replied, “I am the man Whose acts his words and boasts have aye surpassed; But if elsewhere the words thou now began Had uttered been, that speech had been thy last.” Thus quarrelled they; the monarch stayed them than, And ’twixt the angry knights his sceptre cast: Then to Armida said, “Fair Queen, I see Thy heart is stout, thy thoughts courageous be;

LII “Thou worthy art that their disdain and ire At thy commands these knights should both appease, That gainst thy foe their courage hot as fire Thou may’st employ, both when and where you please, There all their power and force, and what desire They have to serve thee, may they show at ease.” The monarch held his peace when this was said, And they new proffer of their service made.

LIII Nor they alone, but all that famous were In feats of arms boast that he shall be dead, All offer her their aid, all say and swear, To take revenge on his condemned head: So many arms moved she against her dear, And swore her darling under foot to tread, But he, since first the enchanted isle he left, Safe in his barge the roaring waves still cleft.

LIV By the same way returned the well-taught boat By which it came, and made like haste, like speed; The friendly wind, upon her sail that smote, So turned as to return her ship had need: The youth sometimes the Pole or Bear did note, Or wandering stars which dearest nights forthspread: Sometimes the floods, the hills, or mountains steep, Whose woody fronts o’ershade the silent deep.

LV Now of the camp the man the state inquires, Now asks the customs strange of sundry lands; And sailed, till clad in beams and bright attires The fourth day’s sun on the eastern threshold stands: But when the western seas had quenched those fires, Their frigate struck against the shore and sands; Then spoke their guide, “The land of Palestine This is, here must your journey end and mine.”

LVI The knights she set upon the shore all three, And vanished thence in twinkling of an eye, Uprose the night in whose deep blackness be All colors hid of things in earth or sky, Nor could they house, or hold, or harbor see, Or in that desert sign of dwelling spy, Nor track of man or horse, or aught that might Inform them of some path or passage right.