Chapter II: Part 2

XLIX “A thing unused, great monarch, may it seem, To ask reward for service yet to come; But so your virtuous bounty I esteem, That I presume for to intreat this groom And silly maid from danger to redeem, Condemned to burn by your unpartial doom, I not excuse, but pity much their youth, And come to you for mercy and for ruth.

L “Yet give me leave to tell your Highness this, You blame the Christians, them my thoughts acquite, Nor be displeased, I say you judge amiss, At every shot look not to hit the white, All what the enchanter did persuade you, is Against the lore of Macon’s sacred rite, For us commandeth mighty Mahomet No idols in his temple pure to set.

LI “To him therefore this wonder done refar, Give him the praise and honor of the thing, Of us the gods benign so careful are Lest customs strange into their church we bring: Let Ismen with his squares and trigons war, His weapons be the staff, the glass, the ring; But let us manage war with blows like knights, Our praise in arms, our honor lies in fights.”

LII The virgin held her peace when this was said; And though to pity he never framed his thought, Yet, for the king admired the noble maid, His purpose was not to deny her aught: “I grant them life,” quoth he, “your promised aid Against these Frenchmen hath their pardon bought: Nor further seek what their offences be, Guiltless, I quit; guilty, I set them free.”

LIII Thus were they loosed, happiest of humankind, Olindo, blessed be this act of thine, True witness of thy great and heavenly mind, Where sun, moon, stars, of love, faith, virtue, shine. So forth they went and left pale death behind, To joy the bliss of marriage rites divine, With her he would have died, with him content Was she to live that would with her have brent.

LIV The king, as wicked thoughts are most suspicious, Supposed too fast this tree of virtue grew, O blessed Lord! why should this Pharaoh vicious, Thus tyrannize upon thy Hebrews true? Who to perform his will, vile and malicious, Exiled these, and all the faithful crew, All that were strong of body, stout of mind, But kept their wives and children pledge behind.

LV A hard division, when the harmless sheep Must leave their lambs to hungry wolves in charge, But labor’s virtues watching, ease her sleep, Trouble best wind that drives salvation’s barge, The Christians fled, whither they took no keep, Some strayed wild among the forests large, Some to Emmaus to the Christian host, And conquer would again their houses lost.

LVI Emmaus is a city small, that lies From Sion’s walls distant a little way, A man that early on the morn doth rise, May thither walk ere third hour of the day. Oh, when the Christian lord this town espies How merry were their hearts? How fresh? How gay? But for the sun inclined fast to west, That night there would their chieftain take his rest.

LVII Their canvas castles up they quickly rear, And build a city in an hour’s space. When lo, disguised in unusual gear, Two barons bold approachen gan the place; Their semblance kind, and mild their gestures were, Peace in their hands, and friendship in their face, From Egypt’s king ambassadors they come, Them many a squire attends, and many a groom.

LVIII The first Aletes, born in lowly shed, Of parents base, a rose sprung from a brier, That now his branches over Egypt spread, No plant in Pharaoh’s garden prospered higher; With pleasing tales his lord’s vain ears he fed, A flatterer, a pick-thank, and a liar: Cursed be estate got with so many a crime, Yet this is oft the stair by which men climb.

LIX Argantes called is that other knight, A stranger came he late to Egypt land, And there advanced was to honor’s height, For he was stout of courage, strong of hand, Bold was his heart, and restless was his sprite, Fierce, stern, outrageous, keen as sharpened brand, Scorner of God, scant to himself a friend, And pricked his reason on his weapon’s end.

LX These two entreatance made they might be heard, Nor was their just petition long denied; The gallants quickly made their court of guard, And brought them in where sate their famous guide, Whose kingly look his princely mind declared, Where noblesse, virtue, troth, and valor bide. A slender courtesy made Argantes bold, So as one prince salute another wold;

LXI Aletes laid his right hand on his heart, Bent down his head, and cast his eyes full low, And reverence made with courtly grace and art, For all that humble lore to him was know; His sober lips then did he softly part, Whence of pure rhetoric, whole streams outflow, And thus he said, while on the Christian lords Down fell the mildew of his sugared words:

LXII “O only worthy, whom the earth all fears, High God defend thee with his heavenly shield, And humble so the hearts of all thy peers, That their stiff necks to thy sweet yoke may yield: These be the sheaves that honor’s harvest bears, The seed thy valiant acts, the world the field, Egypt the headland is, where heaped lies Thy fame, worth, justice, wisdom, victories.

LXIII “These altogether doth our sovereign hide In secret store-house of his princely thought, And prays he may in long accordance bide, With that great worthy which such wonders wrought, Nor that oppose against the coming tide Of proffered love, for that he is not taught Your Christian faith, for though of divers kind, The loving vine about her elm is twined.

LXIV “Receive therefore in that unconquered hand The precious handle of this cup of love, If not religion, virtue be the band ’Twixt you to fasten friendship not to move: But for our mighty king doth understand, You mean your power ’gainst Juda land to prove, He would, before this threatened tempest fell, I should his mind and princely will first tell.

LXV “His mind is this, he prays thee be contented To joy in peace the conquests thou hast got, Be not thy death, or Sion’s fall lamented, Forbear this land, Judea trouble not, Things done in haste at leisure be repented: Withdraw thine arms, trust not uncertain lot, For oft to see what least we think betide; He is thy friend ’gainst all the world beside.

LXVI “True labour in the vineyard of thy Lord, Ere prime thou hast the imposed day-work done, What armies conquered, perished with thy sword? What cities sacked? what kingdoms hast thou won? All ears are mazed while tongues thine acts record, Hands quake for fear, all feet for dread do run, And though no realms you may to thraldom bring, No higher can your praise, your glory spring.

LXVII “Thy sign is in his Apogaeon placed, And when it moveth next, must needs descend, Chance in uncertain, fortune double faced, Smiling at first, she frowneth in the end: Beware thine honor be not then disgraced, Take heed thou mar not when thou think’st to mend, For this the folly is of Fortune’s play, ’Gainst doubtful, certain; much, ’gainst small to lay.

LXVIII “Yet still we sail while prosperous blows the wind, Till on some secret rock unwares we light, The sea of glory hath no banks assigned, They who are wont to win in every fight Still feed the fire that so inflames thy mind To bring more nations subject to thy might; This makes thee blessed peace so light to hold, Like summer’s flies that fear not winter’s cold.

LXIX “They bid thee follow on the path, now made So plain and easy, enter Fortune’s gate, Nor in thy scabbard sheathe that famous blade, Till settled by thy kingdom, and estate, Till Macon’s sacred doctrine fall and fade, Till woeful Asia all lie desolate. Sweet words I grant, baits and allurements sweet, But greatest hopes oft greatest crosses meet.

LXX “For, if thy courage do not blind thine eyes, If clouds of fury hide not reason’s beams, Then may’st thou see this desperate enterprise. The field of death, watered with danger’s streams; High state, the bed is where misfortune lies, Mars most unfriendly, when most kind he seems, Who climbeth high, on earth he hardest lights, And lowest falls attend the highest flights.

LXXI “Tell me if, great in counsel, arms and gold, The Prince of Egypt war ’gainst you prepare, What if the valiant Turks and Persians bold, Unite their forces with Cassanoe’s heir? Oh then, what marble pillar shall uphold The falling trophies of your conquest fair? Trust you the monarch of the Greekish land? That reed will break; and breaking, wound your hand.

LXXII “The Greekish faith is like that half-cut tree By which men take wild elephants in Inde, A thousand times it hath beguiled thee, As firm as waves in seas, or leaves in wind. Will they, who erst denied you passage free, Passage to all men free, by use and kind, Fight for your sake? Or on them do you trust To spend their blood, that could scarce spare their dust?

LXXIII “But all your hope and trust perchance is laid In these strong troops, which thee environ round; Yet foes unite are not so soon dismayed As when their strength you erst divided found: Besides, each hour thy bands are weaker made With hunger, slaughter, lodging on cold ground, Meanwhile the Turks seek succors from our king, Thus fade thy helps, and thus thy cumbers spring.

LXXIV “Suppose no weapon can thy valor’s pride Subdue, that by no force thou may’st be won, Admit no steel can hurt or wound thy side, And be it Heaven hath thee such favor done: ’Gainst Famine yet what shield canst thou provide? What strength resist? What sleight her wrath can shun? Go, shake the spear, and draw thy flaming blade, And try if hunger so be weaker made.

LXXV “The inhabitants each pasture and each plain Destroyed have, each field to waste is laid, In fenced towers bestowed is their grain Before thou cam’st this kingdom to invade, These horse and foot, how canst them sustain? Whence comes thy store? whence thy provision made? Thy ships to bring it are, perchance, assigned, Oh, that you live so long as please the wind!

LXXVI “Perhaps thy fortune doth control the wind, Doth loose or bind their blasts in secret cave, The sea, pardie, cruel and deaf by kind, Will hear thy call, and still her raging wave: But if our armed galleys be assigned To aid those ships which Turks and Persians have, Say then, what hope is left thy slender fleet? Dare flocks of crows, a flight of eagles meet?

LXXVII “My lord, a double conquest must you make, If you achieve renown by this emprize: For if our fleet your navy chase or take, For want of victuals all your camp then dies; Of if by land the field you once forsake, Then vain by sea were hope of victories. Nor could your ships restore your lost estate: For steed once stolen, we shut the door too late.

LXXVIII “In this estate, if thou esteemest light The proffered kindness of the Egyptian king, Then give me leave to say, this oversight Beseems thee not, in whom such virtues spring: But heavens vouchsafe to guide my mind aright, To gentle thoughts, that peace and quiet bring, So that poor Asia her complaints may cease, And you enjoy your conquests got, in peace.

LXXIX “Nor ye that part in these adventures have, Part in his glory, partners in his harms, Let not blind Fortune so your minds deceive, To stir him more to try these fierce alarms, But like the sailor ’scaped from the wave From further peril that his person arms By staying safe at home, so stay you all, Better sit still, men say, than rise to fall.”

LXXX This said Aletes: and a murmur rose That showed dislike among the Christian peers, Their angry gestures with mislike disclose How much his speech offends their noble ears. Lord Godfrey’s eye three times environ goes, To view what countenance every warrior bears, And lastly on the Egyptian baron stayed, To whom the duke thus for his answer said:

LXXXI “Ambassador, full both of threats and praise, Thy doubtful message hast thou wisely told, And if thy sovereign love us as he says, Tell him he sows to reap an hundred fold, But where thy talk the coming storm displays Of threatened warfare from the Pagans bold: To that I answer, as my cousin is, In plainest phrase, lest my intent thou miss.

LXXXII “Know, that till now we suffered have much pain, By lands and seas, where storms and tempests fall, To make the passage easy, safe, and plain That leads us to this venerable wall, That so we might reward from Heaven obtain, And free this town from being longer thrall; Nor is it grievous to so good an end Our honors, kingdoms, lives and goods to spend.

LXXXIII “Nor hope of praise, nor thirst of worldly good, Enticed us to follow this emprise, The Heavenly Father keep his sacred brood From foul infection of so great a vice: But by our zeal aye be that plague withstood, Let not those pleasures us to sin entice. His grace, his mercy, and his powerful hand Will keep us safe from hurt by sea and land.

LXXXIV “This is the spur that makes our coursers run; This is our harbor, safe from danger’s floods; This is our bield, the blustering winds to shun: This is our guide, through forests, deserts, woods; This is our summer’s shade, our winter’s sun: This is our wealth, our treasure, and our goods: This is our engine, towers that overthrows, Our spear that hurts, our sword that wounds our foes.

LXXXV “Our courage hence, our hope, our valor springs, Not from the trust we have in shield or spear, Not from the succors France or Grecia brings, On such weak posts we list no buildings rear: He can defend us from the power of kings, From chance of war, that makes weak hearts to fear; He can these hungry troops with manna feed, And make the seas land, if we passage need.

LXXXVI “But if our sins us of his help deprive, Of his high justice let no mercy fall; Yet should our deaths us some contentment give, To die, where Christ received his burial, So might we die, not envying them that live; So would we die, not unrevenged all: Nor Turks, nor Christians, if we perish such, Have cause to joy, or to complain too much.

LXXXVII “Think not that wars we love, and strife affect, Or that we hate sweet peace, or rest denay, Think not your sovereign’s friendship we reject, Because we list not in our conquests stay: But for it seems he would the Jews protect, Pray him from us that thought aside to lay, Nor us forbid this town and realm to gain, And he in peace, rest, joy, long more may reign.”

LXXXVIII This answer given, Argantes wild drew nar, Trembling for ire, and waxing pale for rage, Nor could he hold, his wrath increased so far, But thus inflamed bespake the captain sage: “Who scorneth peace shall have his fill of war, I thought my wisdom should thy fury ’suage, But well you show what joy you take in fight, Which makes you prize our love and friendship light.”

LXXXIX This said, he took his mantle’s foremost part, And gan the same together fold and wrap; Then spake again with fell and spiteful heart, So lions roar enclosed in train or trap, “Thou proud despiser of inconstant mart, I bring thee war and peace closed in this lap, Take quickly one, thou hast no time to muse; If peace, we rest, we fight, if war thou choose.”

XC His semblance fierce and speechless proud, provoke The soldiers all, “War, war,” at once to cry, Nor could they tarry till their chieftain spoke, But for the knight was more inflamed hereby, His lap he opened and spread forth his cloak: “To mortal wars,” he says, “I you defy;” And this he uttered with fell rage and hate, And seemed of Janus’ church to undo the gate.

XCI It seemed fury, discord, madness fell Flew from his lap, when he unfolds the same; His glaring eyes with anger’s venom swell, And like the brand of foul Alecto flame, He looked like huge Tiphoius loosed from hell Again to shake heaven’s everlasting frame, Or him that built the tower of Shinaar, Which threat’neth battle ’gainst the morning star.

XCII Godfredo then: “Depart, and bid your king Haste hitherward, or else within short while,— For gladly we accept the war you bring,— Let him expect us on the banks of Nile.” He entertained them then with banqueting, And gifts presented to those Pagans vile; Aletes had a helmet, rich and gay, Late found at Nice among the conquered prey.

XCIII Argant a sword, whereof the web was steel, Pommel, rich stone; hilt gold; approved by touch With rarest workmanship all forged weel, The curious art excelled the substance much: Thus fair, rich, sharp, to see, to have, to feel, Glad was the Paynim to enjoy it such, And said, “How I this gift can use and wield, Soon shall you see, when first we meet in field.”

XCIV Thus took they congee, and the angry knight Thus to his fellow parleyed on the way, “Go thou by day, but let me walk by night, Go thou to Egypt, I at Sion stay, The answer given thou canst unfold aright, No need of me, what I can do or say, Among these arms I will go wreak my spite; Let Paris court it, Hector loved to fight.”

XCV Thus he who late arrived a messenger Departs a foe, in act, in word, in thought, The law of nations or the lore of war, If he transgresses or no, he recketh naught, Thus parted they, and ere he wandered far The friendly star-light to the walls him brought: Yet his fell heart thought long that little way, Grieved with each stop, tormented with each stay.

XCVI Now spread the night her spangled canopy, And summoned every restless eye to sleep; On beds of tender grass the beasts down lie, The fishes slumbered in the silent deep, Unheard were serpent’s hiss and dragon’s cry, Birds left to sing, and Philomen to weep, Only that noise heaven’s rolling circles kest, Sung lullaby to bring the world to rest.

XCVII Yet neither sleep, nor ease, nor shadows dark, Could make the faithful camp or captain rest, They longed to see the day, to hear the lark Record her hymns and chant her carols blest, They yearned to view the walls, the wished mark To which their journeys long they had addressed; Each heart attends, each longing eye beholds What beam the eastern window first unfolds.

THIRD BOOK

THE ARGUMENT. The camp at great Jerusalem arrives: Clorinda gives them battle, in the breast Of fair Erminia Tancred’s love revives, He jousts with her unknown whom he loved best; Argant th’ adventurers of their guide deprives, With stately pomp they lay their Lord in chest: Godfrey commands to cut the forest down, And make strong engines to assault the town.

I The purple morning left her crimson bed, And donned her robes of pure vermilion hue, Her amber locks she crowned with roses red, In Eden’s flowery gardens gathered new. When through the camp a murmur shrill was spread, Arm, arm, they cried; arm, arm, the trumpets blew, Their merry noise prevents the joyful blast, So hum small bees, before their swarms they cast.

II Their captain rules their courage, guides their heat, Their forwardness he stayed with gentle rein; And yet more easy, haply, were the feat To stop the current near Charybdis main, Or calm the blustering winds on mountains great, Than fierce desires of warlike hearts restrain; He rules them yet, and ranks them in their haste, For well he knows disordered speed makes waste.

III Feathered their thoughts, their feet in wings were dight, Swiftly they marched, yet were not tired thereby, For willing minds make heaviest burdens light. But when the gliding sun was mounted high, Jerusalem, behold, appeared in sight, Jerusalem they view, they see, they spy, Jerusalem with merry noise they greet, With joyful shouts, and acclamations sweet.

IV As when a troop of jolly sailors row Some new-found land and country to descry, Through dangerous seas and under stars unknowe, Thrall to the faithless waves, and trothless sky, If once the wished shore begun to show, They all salute it with a joyful cry, And each to other show the land in haste, Forgetting quite their pains and perils past.

V To that delight which their first sight did breed, That pleased so the secret of their thought A deep repentance did forthwith succeed That reverend fear and trembling with it brought, Scantly they durst their feeble eyes dispreed Upon that town where Christ was sold and bought, Where for our sins he faultless suffered pain, There where he died and where he lived again.

VI Soft words, low speech, deep sobs, sweet sighs, salt tears Rose from their hearts, with joy and pleasure mixed; For thus fares he the Lord aright that fears, Fear on devotion, joy on faith is fixed: Such noise their passions make, as when one hears The hoarse sea waves roar, hollow rocks betwixt; Or as the wind in holts and shady greaves, A murmur makes among the boughs and leaves.

VII Their naked feet trod on the dusty way, Following the ensample of their zealous guide, Their scarfs, their crests, their plumes and feathers gay, They quickly doffed, and willing laid aside, Their molten hearts their wonted pride allay, Along their watery cheeks warm tears down slide, And then such secret speech as this, they used, While to himself each one himself accused.

VIII “Flower of goodness, root of lasting bliss, Thou well of life, whose streams were purple blood That flowed here, to cleanse the soul amiss Of sinful men, behold this brutish flood, That from my melting heart distilled is, Receive in gree these tears, O Lord so good, For never wretch with sin so overgone Had fitter time or greater cause to moan.”

IX This while the wary watchman looked over, From tops of Sion’s towers, the hills and dales, And saw the dust the fields and pastures cover, As when thick mists arise from moory vales. At last the sun-bright shields he gan discover, And glistering helms for violence none that fails, The metal shone like lightning bright in skies, And man and horse amid the dust descries.

X Then loud he cries, “O what a dust ariseth! O how it shines with shields and targets clear! Up, up, to arms, for valiant heart despiseth The threatened storm of death and danger near. Behold your foes;” then further thus deviseth, “Haste, haste, for vain delay increaseth fear, These horrid clouds of dust that yonder fly, Your coming foes does hide, and hide the sky.”

XI The tender children, and the fathers old, The aged matrons, and the virgin chaste, That durst not shake the spear, nor target hold, Themselves devoutly in their temples placed; The rest, of members strong and courage bold, On hardy breasts their harness donned in haste, Some to the walls, some to the gates them dight, Their king meanwhile directs them all aright.

XII All things well ordered, he withdrew with speed Up to a turret high, two ports between, That so he might be near at every need, And overlook the lands and furrows green. Thither he did the sweet Erminia lead, That in his court had entertained been Since Christians Antioch did to bondage bring, And slew her father, who thereof was king.

XIII Against their foes Clorinda sallied out, And many a baron bold was by her side, Within the postern stood Argantes stout To rescue her, if ill mote her betide: With speeches brave she cheered her warlike rout, And with bold words them heartened as they ride, “Let us by some brave act,” quoth she, “this day Of Asia’s hopes the groundwork found and lay.”

XIV While to her folk thus spake the virgin brave, Thereby behold forth passed a Christian band Toward the camp, that herds of cattle drave, For they that morn had forayed all the land; The fierce virago would that booty save, Whom their commander singled hand for hand, A mighty man at arms, who Guardo hight, But far too weak to match with her in fight.

XV They met, and low in dust was Guardo laid, ’Twixt either army, from his sell down kest, The Pagans shout for joy, and hopeful said, Those good beginnings would have endings blest: Against the rest on went the noble maid, She broke the helm, and pierced the armed breast, Her men the paths rode through made by her sword, They pass the stream where she had found the ford.

XVI Soon was the prey out of their hands recovered, By step and step the Frenchmen gan retire, Till on a little hill at last they hovered, Whose strength preserved them from Clorinda’s ire: When, as a tempest that hath long been covered In watery clouds breaks out with sparkling fire, With his strong squadron Lord Tancredi came, His heart with rage, his eyes with courage flame.

XVII Mast great the spear was which the gallant bore That in his warlike pride he made to shake, As winds tall cedars toss on mountains hoar: The king, that wondered at his bravery, spake To her, that near him seated was before, Who felt her heart with love’s hot fever quake, “Well shouldst thou know,” quoth he, “each Christian knight, By long acquaintance, though in armor dight.

XVIII “Say, who is he shows so great worthiness, That rides so rank, and bends his lance so fell?” To this the princess said nor more nor less, Her heart with sighs, her eyes with tears, did swell; But sighs and tears she wisely could suppress, Her love and passion she dissembled well, And strove her love and hot desire to cover, Till heart with sighs, and eyes with tears ran over:

XIX At last she spoke, and with a crafty sleight Her secret love disguised in clothes of hate: “Alas, too well,” she says, “I know that knight, I saw his force and courage proved late, Too late I viewed him, when his power and might Shook down the pillar of Cassanoe’s state; Alas what wounds he gives! how fierce, how fell! No physic helps them cure, nor magic’s spell.

XX “Tancred he hight, O Macon, would he wear My thrall, ere fates him of this life deprive, For to his hateful head such spite I bear, I would him reave his cruel heart on live.” Thus said she, they that her complainings hear In other sense her wishes credit give. She sighed withal, they construed all amiss, And thought she wished to kill, who longed to kiss.

XXI This while forth pricked Clorinda from the throng And ’gainst Tancredi set her spear in rest, Upon their helms they cracked their lances long, And from her head her gilden casque he kest, For every lace he broke and every thong, And in the dust threw down her plumed crest, About her shoulders shone her golden locks, Like sunny beams, on alabaster rocks.

XXII Her looks with fire, her eyes with lightning blaze, Sweet was her wrath, what then would be her smile? Tancred, whereon think’st thou? what dost thou gaze? Hast thou forgot her in so short a while? The same is she, the shape of whose sweet face The God of Love did in thy heart compile, The same that left thee by the cooling stream, Safe from sun’s heat, but scorched with beauty’s beam.

XXIII The prince well knew her, though her painted shield And golden helm he had not marked before, She saved her head, and with her axe well steeled Assailed the knight; but her the knight forbore, ’Gainst other foes he proved him through the field, Yet she for that refrained ne’er the more, But following, “Turn thee,” cried, in ireful wise; And so at once she threats to kill him twice.

XXIV Not once the baron lifts his armed hand To strike the maid, but gazing on her eyes, Where lordly Cupid seemed in arms to stand, No way to ward or shun her blows he tries; But softly says, “No stroke of thy strong hand Can vanquish Tancred, but thy conquest lies In those fair eyes, which fiery weapons dart, That find no lighting place except this heart.”

XXV At last resolved, although he hoped small grace, Yet ere he did to tell how much he loved, For pleasing words in women’s ears find place, And gentle hearts with humble suits are moved: “O thou,” quoth he, “withhold thy wrath a space, For if thou long to see my valor proved, Were it not better from this warlike rout Withdrawn, somewhere, alone to fight it out?

XXVI “So singled, may we both our courage try:” Clorinda to that motion yielded glad, And helmless to the forestward gan hie, Whither the prince right pensive wend and sad, And there the virgin gan him soon defy. One blow she strucken, and he warded had, When he cried, “Hold, and ere we prove our might, First hear thou some conditions of the fight.”

XXVII She stayed, and desperate love had made him bold; “Since from the fight thou wilt no respite give, The covenants be,” he said, “that thou unfold This wretched bosom, and my heart out rive, Given thee long since, and if thou, cruel, would I should be dead, let me no longer live, But pierce this breast, that all the world may say, The eagle made the turtle-dove her prey.

XXVIII “Save with thy grace, or let thine anger kill, Love hath disarmed my life of all defence; An easy labor harmless blood to spill, Strike then, and punish where is none offence.” This said the prince, and more perchance had will To have declared, to move her cruel sense. But in ill time of Pagans thither came A troop, and Christians that pursued the same.

XXIX The Pagans fled before their valiant foes, For dread or craft, it skills not that we know, A soldier wild, careless to win or lose, Saw where her locks about the damsel flew, And at her back he proffereth as he goes To strike where her he did disarmed view: But Tancred cried, “Oh stay thy cursed hand,” And for to ward the blow lift up his brand.

XXX But yet the cutting steel arrived there, Where her fair neck adjoined her noble head, Light was the wound, but through her amber hair The purple drops down railed bloody red, So rubies set in flaming gold appear: But Lord Tancredi, pale with rage as lead, Flew on the villain, who to flight him bound; The smart was his, though she received the wound.

XXXI The villain flies, he, full of rage and ire, Pursues, she stood and wondered on them both, But yet to follow them showed no desire, To stray so far she would perchance be loth, But quickly turned her, fierce as flaming fire, And on her foes wreaked her anger wroth, On every side she kills them down amain, And now she flies, and now she turns again.

XXXII As the swift ure by Volga’s rolling flood Chased through the plains the mastiff curs toforn, Flies to the succor of some neighbor wood, And often turns again his dreadful horn Against the dogs imbrued in sweat and blood, That bite not, till the beast to flight return; Or as the Moors at their strange tennice run, Defenced, the flying balls unhurt to shun:

XXXIII So ran Clorinda, so her foes pursued, Until they both approached the city’s wall, When lo! the Pagans their fierce wrath renewed, Cast in a ring about they wheeled all, And ’gainst the Christians’ backs and sides they showed Their courage fierce, and to new combat fall, When down the hill Argantes came to fight, Like angry Mars to aid the Trojan knight.

XXXIV Furious, tofore the foremost of his rank, In sturdy steel forth stept the warrior bold, The first he smote down from his saddle sank, The next under his steel lay on the mould, Under the Saracen’s spear the worthies shrank, No breastplate could that cursed tree outhold, When that was broke his precious sword he drew, And whom he hit, he felled, hurt, or slew.

XXXV Clorinda slew Ardelio; aged knight, Whose graver years would for no labor yield, His age was full of puissance and might Two sons he had to guard his noble eild, The first, far from his father’s care and sight, Called Alicandro wounded lay in field, And Poliphern the younger, by his side, Had he not nobly fought had surely died.

XXXVI Tancred by this, that strove to overtake The villain that had hurt his only dear, From vain pursuit at last returned back, And his brave troop discomfit saw well near, Thither he spurred, and gan huge slaughter make, His shock no steed, his blow no knight could bear, For dead he strikes him whom he lights upon, So thunders break high trees on Lebanon.

XXXVII Dudon his squadron of adventurers brings, To aid the worthy and his tired crew, Before the residue young Rinaldo flings As swift as fiery lightning kindled new, His argent eagle with her silver wings In field of azure, fair Erminia knew, “See there, sir King,” she says, “a knight as bold And brave, as was the son of Peleus old.

XXXVIII “He wins the prize in joust and tournament, His acts are numberless, though few his years, If Europe six likes him to war had sent Among these thousand strong of Christian peers, Syria were lost, lost were the Orient, And all the lands the Southern Ocean wears, Conquered were all hot Afric’s tawny kings, And all that dwells by Nilus’ unknown springs.

XXXIX “Rinaldo is his name, his armed fist Breaks down stone walls, when rams and engines fail, But turn your eyes because I would you wist What lord that is in green and golden mail, Dudon he hight who guideth as him list The adventurers’ troop whose prowess seld doth fail, High birth, grave years, and practise long in war, And fearless heart, make him renowned far.

XL “See that big man that all in brown is bound, Gernando called, the King of Norway’s son, A prouder knight treads not on grass or ground, His pride hath lost the praise his prowess won; And that kind pair in white all armed round, Is Edward and Gildippes, who begun Through love the hazard of fierce war to prove, Famous for arms, but famous more for love.”

XLI While thus they tell their foemen’s worthiness, The slaughter rageth in the plain at large. Tancred and young Rinaldo break the press, They bruise the helm, and press the sevenfold targe; The troop by Dudon led performed no less, But in they come and give a furious charge: Argantes’ self fell at one single blow, Inglorious, bleeding lay, on earth full low:

XLII Nor had the boaster ever risen more, But that Rinaldo’s horse e’en then down fell, And with the fall his leg opprest so sore, That for a space there must be algates dwell. Meanwhile the Pagan troops were nigh forlore, Swiftly they fled, glad they escaped so well, Argantes and with him Clorinda stout, For bank and bulwark served to save the rout.

XLIII These fled the last, and with their force sustained The Christians’ rage, that followed them so near; Their scattered troops to safety well they trained, And while the residue fled, the brunt these bear; Dudon pursued the victory he gained, And on Tigranes nobly broke his spear, Then with his sword headless to ground him cast, So gardeners branches lop that spring too fast.

XLIV Algazar’s breastplate, of fine temper made, Nor Corban’s helmet, forged by magic art, Could save their owners, for Lord Dudon’s blade Cleft Corban’s head, and pierced Algazar’s heart, And their proud souls down to the infernal shade, From Amurath and Mahomet depart; Not strong Argantes thought his life was sure, He could not safely fly, nor fight secure.

XLV The angry Pagan bit his lips for teen, He ran, he stayed, he fled, he turned again, Until at last unmarked, unviewed, unseen, When Dudon had Almansor newly slain, Within his side he sheathed his weapon keen, Down fell the worthy on the dusty plain, And lifted up his feeble eyes uneath, Opprest with leaden sleep, of iron death.

XLVI Three times he strove to view Heaven’s golden ray, And raised him on his feeble elbow thrice, And thrice he tumbled on the lowly lay, And three times closed again his dying eyes, He speaks no word, yet makes his signs to pray; He sighs, he faints, he groans, and then he dies; Argantes proud to spoil the corpse disdained, But shook his sword with blood of Dudon stained.

XLVII And turning to the Christian knights, he cried: “Lordlings, behold, this bloody reeking blade Last night was given me by your noble guide, Tell him what proof thereof this day is made, Needs must this please him well that is betide, That I so well can use this martial trade, To whom so rare a gift he did present, Tell him the workman fits the instrument.

XLVIII “If further proof thereof he long to see, Say it still thirsts, and would his heart-blood drink; And if he haste not to encounter me, Say I will find him when he least doth think.” The Christians at his words enraged be, But he to shun their ire doth safely shrink Under the shelter of the neighbor wall, Well guarded with his troops and soldiers all.

XLIX Like storms of hail the stones fell down from high, Cast from their bulwarks, flankers, ports and towers, The shafts and quarries from their engines fly, As thick as falling drops in April showers: The French withdrew, they list not press too nigh, The Saracens escaped all the powers, But now Rinaldo from the earth upleapt, Where by the leg his steed had long him kept; L He came and breathed vengeance from his breast ’Gainst him that noble Dudon late had slain; And being come thus spoke he to the rest, “Warriors, why stand you gazing here in vain? Pale death our valiant leader had opprest, Come wreak his loss, whom bootless you complain. Those walls are weak, they keep but cowards out No rampier can withstand a courage stout.

LI “Of double iron, brass or adamant, Or if this wall were built of flaming fire, Yet should the Pagan vile a fortress want To shroud his coward head safe from mine ire; Come follow then, and bid base fear avaunt, The harder work deserves the greater hire;” And with that word close to the walls he starts, Nor fears he arrows, quarries, stones or darts.

LII Above the waves as Neptune lift his eyes To chide the winds, that Trojan ships opprest, And with his countenance calmed seas, winds and skies; So looked Rinaldo, when he shook his crest Before those walls, each Pagan fears and flies His dreadful sight, or trembling stayed at least: Such dread his awful visage on them cast. So seem poor doves at goshawks’ sight aghast.

LIII The herald Ligiere now from Godfrey came, To will them stay and calm their courage hot; “Retire,” quoth he, “Godfrey commands the same; To wreak your ire this season fitteth not;” Though loth, Rinaldo stayed, and stopped the flame, That boiled in his hardy stomach hot; His bridled fury grew thereby more fell, So rivers, stopped, above their banks do swell.

LIV The hands retire, not dangered by their foes In their retreat, so wise were they and wary, To murdered Dudon each lamenting goes, From wonted use of ruth they list not vary. Upon their friendly arms they soft impose The noble burden of his corpse to carry: Meanwhile Godfredo from a mountain great Beheld the sacred city and her seat.

LV Hierusalem is seated on two hills Of height unlike, and turned side to side, The space between, a gentle valley fills, From mount to mount expansed fair and wide. Three sides are sure imbarred with crags and hills, The rest is easy, scant to rise espied: But mighty bulwarks fence that plainer part, So art helps nature, nature strengtheneth art.

LVI The town is stored of troughs and cisterns, made To keep fresh water, but the country seems Devoid of grass, unfit for ploughmen’s trade, Not fertile, moist with rivers, wells and streams; There grow few trees to make the summer’s shade, To shield the parched land from scorching beams, Save that a wood stands six miles from the town, With aged cedars dark, and shadows brown.

LVII By east, among the dusty valleys, glide The silver streams of Jordan’s crystal flood; By west, the Midland Sea, with bounders tied Of sandy shores, where Joppa whilom stood; By north Samaria stands, and on that side The golden calf was reared in Bethel wood; Bethlem by south, where Christ incarnate was, A pearl in steel, a diamond set in brass.

LVIII While thus the Duke on every side descried The city’s strength, the walls and gates about, And saw where least the same was fortified, Where weakest seemed the walls to keep him out; Ermina as he armed rode, him spied, And thus bespake the heathen tyrant stout, “See Godfrey there, in purple clad and gold, His stately port, and princely look behold.

LIX “Well seems he born to be with honor crowned, So well the lore he knows of regiment, Peerless in fight, in counsel grave and sound, The double gift of glory excellent, Among these armies is no warrior found Graver in speech, bolder in tournament. Raymond pardie in counsel match him might; Tancred and young Rinaldo like in fight.”

LX To whom the king: “He likes me well therefore, I knew him whilom in the court of France When I from Egypt went ambassador, I saw him there break many a sturdy lance, And yet his chin no sign of manhood bore; His youth was forward, but with governance, His words, his actions, and his portance brave, Of future virtue, timely tokens gave.

LXI “Presages, ah too true:” with that a space He sighed for grief, then said, “Fain would I know The man in red, with such a knightly grace, A worthy lord he seemeth by his show, How like to Godfrey looks he in the face, How like in person! but some-deal more low.” “Baldwin,” quoth she, “that noble baron hight, By birth his brother, and his match in might.

LXII “Next look on him that seems for counsel fit, Whose silver locks betray his store of days, Raymond he hight, a man of wondrous wit, Of Toulouse lord, his wisdom is his praise; What he forethinks doth, as he looks for, hit, His stratagems have good success always: With gilded helm beyond him rides the mild And good Prince William, England’s king’s dear child.

LXIII “With him is Guelpho, as his noble mate, In birth, in acts, in arms alike the rest, I know him well, since I beheld him late, By his broad shoulders and his squared breast: But my proud foe that quite hath ruinate My high estate, and Antioch opprest, I see not, Boemond, that to death did bring Mine aged lord, my father, and my king.”

LXIV Thus talked they; meanwhile Godfredo went Down to the troops that in the valley stayed, And for in vain he thought the labor spent, To assail those parts that to the mountains laid, Against the northern gate his force he bent, Gainst it he camped, gainst it his engines played; All felt the fury of his angry power, That from those gates lies to the corner tower.

LXV The town’s third part was this, or little less, Fore which the duke his glorious ensigns spread, For so great compass had that forteress, That round it could not be environed With narrow siege—nor Babel’s king I guess That whilom took it, such an army led— But all the ways he kept, by which his foe Might to or from the city come or go.

LXVI His care was next to cast the trenches deep, So to preserve his resting camp by night, Lest from the city while his soldiers sleep They might assail them with untimely flight. This done he went where lords and princes weep With dire complaints about the murdered knight, Where Dudon dead lay slaughtered on the ground. And all the soldiers sat lamenting round.

LXVII His wailing friends adorned the mournful bier With woful pomp, whereon his corpse they laid, And when they saw the Bulloigne prince draw near, All felt new grief, and each new sorrow made; But he, withouten show or change of cheer, His springing tears within their fountains stayed, His rueful looks upon the corpse he cast Awhile, and thus bespake the same at last;

LXVIII “We need not mourn for thee, here laid to rest, Earth is thy bed, and not the grave the skies Are for thy soul the cradle and the nest, There live, for here thy glory never dies: For like a Christian knight and champion blest Thou didst both live and die: now feed thine eyes With thy Redeemer’s sight, where crowned with bliss Thy faith, zeal, merit, well-deserving is.

LXIX “Our loss, not thine, provokes these plaints and tears: For when we lost thee, then our ship her mast, Our chariot lost her wheels, their points our spears, The bird of conquest her chief feather cast: But though thy death far from our army hears Her chiefest earthly aid, in heaven yet placed Thou wilt procure its help Divine, so reaps He that sows godly sorrow, joy by heaps.

LXX “For if our God the Lord Armipotent Those armed angels in our aid down send That were at Dothan to his prophet sent, Thou wilt come down with them, and well defend Our host, and with thy sacred weapons bent Gainst Sion’s fort, these gates and bulwarks rend, That so by hand may win this hold, and we May in these temples praise our Christ for thee.”

LXXI Thus he complained; but now the sable shade Ycleped night, had thick enveloped The sun in veil of double darkness made; Sleep, eased care; rest, brought complaint to bed: All night the wary duke devising laid How that high wall should best be battered, How his strong engines he might aptly frame, And whence get timber fit to build the same.

LXXII Up with the lark the sorrowful duke arose, A mourner chief at Dudon’s burial, Of cypress sad a pile his friends compose Under a hill o’ergrown with cedars tall, Beside the hearse a fruitful palm-tree grows, Ennobled since by this great funeral, Where Dudon’s corpse they softly laid in ground, The priest sung hymns, the soldiers wept around.

LXXIII Among the boughs, they here and there bestow Ensigns and arms, as witness of his praise, Which he from Pagan lords, that did them owe, Had won in prosperous fights and happy frays: His shield they fixed on the hole below, And there this distich under-writ, which says, “This palm with stretched arms, doth overspread The champion Dudon’s glorious carcase dead.”

LXXIV This work performed with advisement good, Godfrey his carpenters, and men of skill In all the camp, sent to an aged wood, With convoy meet to guard them safe from ill. Within a valley deep this forest stood, To Christian eyes unseen, unknown, until A Syrian told the duke, who thither sent Those chosen workmen that for timber went.

LXXV And now the axe raged in the forest wild, The echo sighed in the groves unseen, The weeping nymphs fled from their bowers exiled, Down fell the shady tops of shaking treen, Down came the sacred palms, the ashes wild, The funeral cypress, holly ever green, The weeping fir, thick beech, and sailing pine, The married elm fell with his fruitful vine.

LXXVI The shooter grew, the broad-leaved sycamore, The barren plantain, and the walnut sound, The myrrh, that her foul sin doth still deplore, The alder owner of all waterish ground, Sweet juniper, whose shadow hurteth sore, Proud cedar, oak, the king of forests crowned; Thus fell the trees, with noise the deserts roar; The beasts, their caves, the birds, their nests forlore.

FOURTH BOOK

THE ARGUMENT. Satan his fiends and spirits assembleth all, And sends them forth to work the Christians woe, False Hidraort their aid from hell doth call, And sends Armida to entrap his foe: She tells her birth, her fortune, and her fall, Asks aid, allures and wins the worthies so That they consent her enterprise to prove; She wins them with deceit, craft, beauty, love.

I While thus their work went on with lucky speed, And reared rams their horned fronts advance, The Ancient Foe to man, and mortal seed, His wannish eyes upon them bent askance; And when he saw their labors well succeed, He wept for rage, and threatened dire mischance. He choked his curses, to himself he spake, Such noise wild bulls that softly bellow make.

II At last resolving in his damned thought To find some let to stop their warlike feat, He gave command his princes should be brought Before the throne of his infernal seat. O fool! as if it were a thing of naught God to resist, or change his purpose great, Who on his foes doth thunder in his ire, Whose arrows hailstones he and coals of fire.

III The dreary trumpet blew a dreadful blast, And rumbled through the lands and kingdoms under, Through wasteness wide it roared, and hollows vast, And filled the deep with horror, fear and wonder, Not half so dreadful noise the tempests cast, That fall from skies with storms of hail and thunder, Not half so loud the whistling winds do sing, Broke from the earthen prisons of their King.

IV The peers of Pluto’s realm assembled been Amid the palace of their angry King, In hideous forms and shapes, tofore unseen, That fear, death, terror and amazement bring, With ugly paws some trample on the green, Some gnaw the snakes that on their shoulders hing, And some their forked tails stretch forth on high, And tear the twinkling stars from trembling sky.

V There were Silenus’ foul and loathsome route, There Sphinxes, Centaurs, there were Gorgons fell, There howling Scillas, yawling round about, There serpents hiss, there seven-mouthed Hydras yell, Chimera there spues fire and brimstone out, And Polyphemus blind supporteth hell, Besides ten thousand monsters therein dwells Misshaped, unlike themselves, and like naught else.

VI About their princes each took his wonted seat On thrones red-hot, ybuilt of burning brass, Pluto in middest heaved his trident great, Of rusty iron huge that forged was, The rocks on which the salt sea billows beat, And Atlas’ tops, the clouds in height that pass, Compared to his huge person mole-hills be, So his rough front, his horns so lifted he.

VII The tyrant proud frowned from his lofty cell, And with his looks made all his monsters tremble, His eyes, that full of rage and venom swell, Two beacons seem, that men to arms assemble, His feltered locks, that on his bosom fell, On rugged mountains briars and thorns resemble, His yawning mouth, that foamed clotted blood, Gaped like a whirlpool wide in Stygian flood.

VIII And as Mount Etna vomits sulphur out, With cliffs of burning crags, and fire and smoke, So from his mouth flew kindled coals about, Hot sparks and smells that man and beast would choke, The gnarring porter durst not whine for doubt; Still were the Furies, while their sovereign spoke, And swift Cocytus stayed his murmur shrill, While thus the murderer thundered out his will:

IX “Ye powers infernal, worthier far to sit About the sun, whence you your offspring take, With me that whilom, through the welkin flit, Down tumbled headlong to this empty lake; Our former glory still remember it, Our bold attempts and war we once did make Gainst him, that rules above the starry sphere, For which like traitors we lie damned here.

X “And now instead of clear and gladsome sky, Of Titan’s brightness, that so glorious is, In this deep darkness lo we helpless lie, Hopeless again to joy our former bliss, And more, which makes my griefs to multiply, That sinful creature man, elected is; And in our place the heavens possess he must, Vile man, begot of clay, and born of dust.

XI “Nor this sufficed, but that he also gave His only Son, his darling to be slain, To conquer so, hell, death, sin and the grave, And man condemned to restore again, He brake our prisons and would algates save The souls there here should dwell in woe and pain, And now in heaven with him they live always With endless glory crowned, and lasting praise.