Chapter VIII: Part 8

VIII Him likewise they invoke, called the Rock Whereon the Lord, they say, his Church did rear, Whose true successors close or else unlock The blessed gates of grace and mercy dear; And all the elected twelve the chosen flock, Of his triumphant death who witness bear; And them by torment, slaughter, fire and sword Who martyrs died to confirm his word;

IX And them also whose books and writings tell What certain path to heavenly bliss us leads; And hermits good, and ancresses that dwell Mewed up in walls, and mumble on their beads, And virgin nuns in close and private cell, Where, but shrift fathers, never mankind treads: On these they called, and on all the rout Of angels, martyrs, and of saints devout.

X Singing and saying thus, the camp devout Spread forth her zealous squadrons broad and wide’; Toward mount Olivet went all this route, So called of olive trees the hills which hide, A mountain known by fame the world throughout, Which riseth on the city’s eastern side, From it divided by the valley green Of Josaphat, that fills the space between.

XI Hither the armies went, and chanted shrill, That all the deep and hollow dales resound; From hollow mounts and caves in every hill, A thousand echoes also sung around, It seemed some clever, that sung with art and skill, Dwelt in those savage dens and shady ground, For oft resounds from the banks they hear, The name of Christ and of his mother dear.

XII Upon the walls the Pagans old and young Stood hushed and still, amated and amazed, At their grave order and their humble song, At their strange pomp and customs new they gazed: But when the show they had beholden long, An hideous yell the wicked miscreants raised, That with vile blasphemies the mountain hoar, The woods, the waters, and the valleys roar.

XIII But yet with sacred notes the hosts proceed, Though blasphemies they hear and cursed things; So with Apollo’s harp Pan tunes his reed, So adders hiss where Philomela sings; Nor flying darts nor stones the Christians dreed, Nor arrows shot, nor quarries cast from slings; But with assured faith, as dreading naught, The holy work begun to end they brought.

XIV A table set they on the mountain’s height To minister thereon the sacrament, In golden candlesticks a hallowed light At either end of virgin wax there brent; In costly vestments sacred William dight, With fear and trembling to the altar went, And prayer there and service loud begins, Both for his own and all the army’s sins.

XV Humbly they heard his words that stood him nigh, The rest far off upon him bent their eyes, But when he ended had the service high, “You servants of the Lord depart,” he cries: His hands he lifted then up to the sky, And blessed all those warlike companies; And they dismissed returned the way they came, Their order as before, their pomp the same.

XVI Within their camp arrived, this voyage ended, Toward his tent the duke himself withdrew, Upon their guide by heaps the bands attended, Till his pavilion’s stately door they view, There to the Lord his welfare they commended, And with him left the worthies of the crew, Whom at a costly and rich feast he placed, And with the highest room old Raymond graced.

XVII Now when the hungry knights sufficed are With meat, with drink, with spices of the best, Quoth he, “When next you see the morning star, To assault the town be ready all and prest: To-morrow is a day of pains and war, This of repose, of quiet, peace, and rest; Go, take your ease this evening, and this night, And make you strong against to-morrow’s fight.”

XVIII They took their leave, and Godfrey’s heralds rode To intimate his will on every side, And published it through all the lodgings broad, That gainst the morn each should himself provide; Meanwhile they might their hearts of cares unload, And rest their tired limbs that eveningtide; Thus fared they till night their eyes did close, Night friend to gentle rest and sweet repose.

XIX With little sign as yet of springing day Out peeped, not well appeared the rising morn, The plough yet tore not up the fertile lay, Nor to their feed the sheep from folds return, The birds sate silent on the greenwood spray Amid the groves unheard was hound and horn, When trumpets shrill, true signs of hardy fights, Called up to arms the soldiers, called the knights:

XX “Arm, arm at once!” an hundred squadrons cried, And with their cry to arm them all begin. Godfrey arose, that day he laid aside His hauberk strong he wonts to combat in, And donned a breastplate fair, of proof untried, Such one as footmen use, light, easy, thin. Scantly the warlord thus clothed had his gromes, When aged Raymond to his presence comes.

XXI And furnished to us when he the man beheld, By his attire his secret thought he guessed, “Where is,” quoth he, “your sure and trusty shield? Your helm, your hauberk strong? where all the rest? Why be you half disarmed? why to the field Approach you in these weak defences dressed? I see this day you mean a course to run, Wherein may peril much, small praise be won.

XXII “Alas, do you that idle prise expect, To set first foot this conquered wall above? Of less account some knight thereto object Whose loss so great and harmful cannot prove; My lord, your life with greater care protect, And love yourself because all us you love, Your happy life is spirit, soul, and breath Of all this camp, preserve it then from death.”

XXIII To this he answered thus, “You know,” he said, “In Clarimont by mighty Urban’s hand When I was girded with this noble blade, For Christ’s true faith to fight in every land, To God even then a secret vow I made, Not as a captain here this day to stand And give directions, but with shield and sword To fight, to win, or die for Christ my Lord.

XXIV “When all this camp in battle strong shall be Ordained and ordered, well disposed all, And all things done which to the high degree And sacred place I hold belongen shall; Then reason is it, nor dissuade thou me, That I likewise assault this sacred wall, Lest from my vow to God late made I swerve: He shall this life defend, keep and preserve.”

XXV Thus he concludes, and every hardy knight His sample followed, and his brethren twain, The other princes put on harness light, As footmen use: but all the Pagan train Toward that side bent their defensive might Which lies exposed to view of Charles’s wain And Zephyrus’ sweet blasts, for on that part The town was weakest, both by side and art.

XXVI On all parts else the fort was strong by site, With mighty hills defenced from foreign rage, And to this part the tyrant gan unite His subjects born and bands that serve for wage, From this exploit he spared nor great nor lite, The aged men, and boys of tender age, To fire of angry war still brought new fuel, Stones, darts, lime, brimstone and bitumen cruel.

XXVII All full of arms and weapons was the wall, Under whose basis that fair plain doth run, There stood the Soldan like a giant tall, So stood at Rhodes the Coloss of the sun, Waist high, Argantes showed himself withal, At whose stern looks the French to quake begun, Clorinda on the corner tower alone, In silver arms like rising Cynthia shone.

XXVIII Her rattling quiver at her shoulders hung, Therein a flash of arrows feathered weel. In her left hand her bow was bended strong, Therein a shaft headed with mortal steel, So fit to shoot she singled forth among Her foes who first her quarries’ strength should feel, So fit to shoot Latona’s daughter stood When Niobe she killed and all her brood.

XXIX The aged tyrant tottered on his feet From gate to gate, from wall to wall he flew, He comforts all his bands with speeches sweet, And every fort and bastion doth review, For every need prepared in every street New regiments he placed and weapons new. The matrons grave within their temples high To idols false for succors call and cry,

XXX “O Macon, break in twain the steeled lance On wicked Godfrey with thy righteous hands, Against thy name he doth his arm advance, His rebel blood pour out upon these sands;” These cries within his ears no enterance Could find, for naught he hears, naught understands. While thus the town for her defence ordains, His armies Godfrey ordereth on the plains;

XXXI His forces first on foot he forward brought, With goodly order, providence and art, And gainst these towers which to assail he thought, In battles twain his strength he doth depart, Between them crossbows stood, and engines wrought To cast a stone, a quarry, or a dart, From whence like thunder’s dint or lightnings new Against the bulwark stones and lances flew.

XXXII His men at arms did back his bands on foot, The light horse ride far off and serve for wings, He gave the sign, so mighty was the rout Of those that shot with bows and cast with slings, Such storms of shafts and stones flew all about, That many a Pagan proud to death it brings, Some died, some at their loops durst scant outpeep, Some fled and left the place they took to keep.

XXXIII The hardy Frenchmen, full of heat and haste, Ran boldly forward to the ditches large, And o’er their heads an iron pentice vast They built, by joining many a shield and targe, Some with their engines ceaseless shot and cast, And volleys huge of arrows sharp discharge, Upon the ditches some employed their pain To fill the moat and even it with the plain.

XXXIV With slime or mud the ditches were not soft, But dry and sandy, void of waters clear, Though large and deep the Christians fill them oft, With rubbish, fagots, stones, and trees they bear: Adrastus first advanced his crest aloft, And boldly gan a strong scalado rear, And through the falling storm did upward climb Of stones, darts, arrows, fire, pitch and lime:

XXXV The hardy Switzer now so far was gone That half way up with mickle pain he got, A thousand weapons he sustained alone, And his audacious climbing ceased not; At last upon him fell a mighty stone, As from some engine great it had been shot, It broke his helm, he tumbled from the height, The strong Circassian cast that wondrous weight;

XXXVI Not mortal was the blow, yet with the fall On earth sore bruised the man lay in a swoon. Argantes gan with boasting words to call, “Who cometh next? this first is tumbled down, Come, hardy soldiers, come, assault this wall, I will not shrink, nor fly, nor hide my crown, If in your trench yourselves for dread you hold, There shall you die like sheep killed in their fold.”

XXXVII Thus boasted he; but in their trenches deep, The hidden squadrons kept themselves from scath, The curtain made of shields did well off keep Both darts and shot, and scorned all their wrath. But now the ram upon the rampiers steep, On mighty beams his head advanced hath, With dreadful horns of iron tough tree great, The walls and bulwarks trembled at his threat.

XXXVIII An hundred able men meanwhile let fall The weights behind, the engine tumbled down And battered flat the battlements and wall: So fell Taigetus hill on Sparta town, It crushed the steeled shield in pieces small, And beat the helmet to the wearers’ crown, And on the ruins of the walls and stones, Dispersed left their blood their brains and bones.

XXXIX The fierce assailants kept no longer close Undcr the shelter of their target fine, But their bold fronts to chance of war expose, And gainst those towers let their virtue shine, The scaling ladders up to skies arose, The ground-works deep some closely undermine, The walls before the Frenchmen shrink and shake, And gaping sign of headlong falling make:

XL And fallen they had, so far the strength extends Of that fierce ram and his redoubted stroke, But that the Pagan’s care the place defends And saved by warlike skill the wall nigh broke: For to what part soe’er the engine bends, Their sacks of wool they place the blow to choke, Whose yielding breaks the strokes thereon which light, So weakness oft subdues the greatest might.

XLI While thus the worthies of the western crew Maintained their brave assault and skirmish hot, Her mighty bow Clorinda often drew, And many a sharp and deadly arrow shot; And from her bow no steeled shaft there flew But that some blood the cursed engine got, Blood of some valiant knight or man of fame, For that proud shootress scorned weaker game.

XLII The first she hit among the Christian peers Was the bold son of England’s noble king, Above the trench himself he scantly rears, But she an arrow loosed from the string, The wicked steel his gauntlet breaks and tears, And through his right hand thrust the piercing sting; Disabled thus from fight, he gan retire, Groaning for pain, but fretting more for ire.

XLIII Lord Stephen of Amboise on the ditch’s brim, And on a ladder high, Clotharius died, From back to breast an arrow pierced him, The other was shot through from side to side: Then as he managed brave his courser trim, On his left arm he hit the Flemings’ guide, He stopped, and from the wound the reed out-twined, But left the iron in his flesh behind.

XLIV As Ademare stood to behold the fight High on the bank, withdrawn to breathe a space, A fatal shaft upon his forehead light, His hand he lifted up to feel the place, Whereon a second arrow chanced right, And nailed his hand unto his wounded face, He fell, and with his blood distained the land, His holy blood shed by a virgin’s hand.

XLV While Palamede stood near the battlement, Despising perils all, and all mishap, And upward still his hardy footings bent, On his right eye he caught a deadly clap, Through his right eye Clorinda’s seventh shaft went, And in his neck broke forth a bloody gap; He underneath that bulwark dying fell, Which late to scale and win he trusted well.

XLVI Thus shot the maid: the duke with hard assay And sharp assault, meanwhile the town oppressed, Against that part which to his campward lay An engine huge and wondrous he addressed, A tower of wood built for the town’s decay As high as were the walls and bulwarks best, A turret full of men and weapons pent, And yet on wheels it rolled, moved, and went.

XLVII This rolling fort his nigh approaches made, And darts and arrows spit against his foes, As ships are wont in fight, so it assayed With the strong wall to grapple and to close, The Pagans on each side the piece invade, And all their force against this mass oppose, Sometimes the wheels, sometimes the battlement With timber, logs and stones, they broke and rent,

XLVIII So thick flew stones and darts, that no man sees The azure heavens, the sun his brightness lost, The clouds of weapons, like to swarms of bees, Move the air, and there each other crossed: And look how falling leaves drop down from trees, When the moist sap is nipped with timely frost, Or apples in strong winds from branches fall; The Saracens so tumbled from the wall.

XLIX For on their part the greatest slaughter light, They had no shelter gainst so sharp a shower, Some left on live betook themselves to flight, So feared they this deadly thundering tower: But Solyman stayed like a valiant knight, And some with him, that trusted in his power, Argantes with a long beech tree in hand, Ran thither, this huge engine to withstand:

L With this he pushed the tower, and back it drives The length of all his tree, a wondrous way, The hardy virgin by his side arrives, To help Argantes in this hard assay: The band that used the ram, this season strives To cut the cords, wherein the woolpacks lay, Which done, the sacks down in the trenches fall, And to the battery naked left the wall.

LI The tower above, the ram beneath doth thunder, What lime and stone such puissance could abide? The wall began, new bruised and crushed asunder, Her wounded lap to open broad and wide, Godfrey himself and his brought safely under The shattered wall, where greatest breach he spied, Himself he saves behind his mighty targe, A shield not used but in some desperate charge.

LII From hence he sees where Solyman descends, Down to the threshold of the gaping breach, And there it seems the mighty prince intends Godfredo’s hoped entrance to impeach: Argantes, and with him the maid, defends The walls above, to which the tower doth reach, His noble heart, when Godfrey this beheld, With courage new with wrath and valor swelled.

LIII He turned about and to good Sigiere spake, Who bare his greatest shield and mighty bow, “That sure and trusty target let me take, Impenetrable is that shield I know, Over these ruins will I passage make, And enter first, the way is eath and low, And time requires that by some noble feat I should make known my strength and puissance great.”

LIV He scant had spoken, scant received the charge, When on his leg a sudden shaft him hit, And through that part a hole made wide and large, Where his strong sinews fastened were and knit. Clorinda, thou this arrow didst discharge, And let the Pagans bless thy hand for it, For by that shot thou savedst them that day From bondage vile, from death and sure decay.

LV The wounded duke, as though he felt no pain, Still forward went, and mounted up the breach His high attempt at first he nould refrain, And after called his lords with cheerful speech; But when his leg could not his weight sustain, He saw his will did far his power outreach, And more he strove his grief increased the more, The bold assault he left at length therefore:

LVI And with his hand he beckoned Guelpho near, And said, “I must withdraw me to my tent, My place and person in mine absence bear, Supply my want, let not the fight relent, I go, and will ere long again be here; I go and straight return:” this said, he went, On a light steed he leaped, and o’er the green He rode, but rode not, as he thought, unseen.

LVII When Godfrey parted, parted eke the heart, The strength and fortune of the Christian bands, Courage increased in their adverse part, Wrath in their hearts, and vigor in their hands: Valor, success, strength, hardiness and art, Failed in the princes of the western lands, Their swords were blunt, faint was their trumpet’s blast, Their sun was set, or else with clouds o’ercast.

LVIII Upon the bulwarks now appeared bold That fearful band that late for dread was fled! The women that Clorinda’s strength behold, Their country’s love to war encouraged, They weapons got, and fight like men they would, Their gowns tucked up, their locks were loose and spread, Sharp darts they cast, and without dread or fear, Exposed their breasts to save their fortress dear.

LIX But that which most dismayed the Christian knights, And added courage to the Pagans most, Was Guelpho’s sudden fall in all men’s sights, Who tumbled headlong down, his footing lost, A mighty stone upon the worthy lights, But whence it came none wist, nor from what coast; And with like blow, which more their hearts dismayed, Beside him low in dust old Raymond laid:

LX And Eustace eke within the ditches large, To narrow shifts and last extremes they drive, Upon their foes so fierce the Pagans charge, And with good-fortune so their blows they give, That whom they hit, in spite of helm or targe, They deeply wound, or else of life deprive. At this their good success Argantes proud, Waxing more fell, thus roared and cried aloud:

LXI “This is not Antioch, nor the evening dark Can help your privy sleights with friendly shade, The sun yet shines, your falsehood can we mark, In other wise this bold assault is made; Of praise and glory quenched is the spark That made you first these eastern lands invade, Why cease you now? why take you not this fort? What! are you weary for a charge so short?”

LXII Thus raged he, and in such hellish sort Increased the fury in the brain-sick knight, That he esteemed that large and ample fort Too strait a field, wherein to prove his might, There where the breach had framed a new-made port, Himself he placed, with nimble skips and light, He cleared the passage out, and thus he cried To Solyman, that fought close by his side:

LXIII “Come, Solyman, the time and place behold, That of our valors well may judge the doubt, What sayest thou? amongst these Christians bold, First leap he forth that holds himself most stout:” While thus his will the mighty champion told, Both Solyman and he at once leaped out, Fury the first provoked, disdain the last, Who scorned the challenge ere his lips it passed.

LXIV Upon their foes unlooked-for they flew, Each spited other for his virtue’s sake, So many soldiers this fierce couple slew, So many shields they cleft and helms they break, So many ladders to the earth they threw, That well they seemed a mount thereof to make, Or else some vamure fit to save the town, Instead of that the Christians late beat down.

LXV The folk that strove with rage and haste before Who first the wall and rampire should ascend, Retire, and for that honor strive no more, Scantly they could their limbs and lives defend, They fled, their engines lost the Pagans tore In pieces small, their rams to naught they rend, And all unfit for further service make With so great force and rage their beams they brake.

LXVI The Pagans ran transported with their ire, Now here, now there, and woful slaughters wrought, At last they called for devouring fire, Two burning pines against the tower they brought, So from the palace of their hellish sire, When all this world they would consume to naught, The fury sisters come with fire in hands, Shaking their snaky locks and sparkling brands:

LXVII But noble Tancred, who this while applied Grave exhortations to his bold Latines, When of these knights the wondrous acts he spied, And saw the champions with their burning pines, He left his talk, and thither forthwith hied, To stop the rage of those fell Saracines. And with such force the fight he there renewed, That now they fled and lost who late pursued.

LXVIII Thus changed the state and fortune of the fray, Meanwhile the wounded duke, in grief and teen, Within his great pavilion rich and gay, Good Sigiere and Baldwin stood between; His other friends whom his mishap dismay, With grief and tears about assembled been: He strove in haste the weapon out to wind, And broke the reed, but left the head behind.

LXIX He bade them take the speediest way they might, Of that unlucky hurt to make him sound, And to lay ope the depth thereof to sight, He willed them open, search and lance the wound, “Send me again,” quoth he, “to end this fight, Before the sun be sunken under ground;” And leaning on a broken spear, he thrust His leg straight out, to him that cure it must.

LXX Erotimus, born on the banks of Po, Was he that undertook to cure the knight, All what green herbs or waters pure could do, He knew their power, their virtue, and their might, A noble poet was the man also, But in this science had a more delight, He could restore to health death-wounded men, And make their names immortal with his pen.

LXXI The mighty duke yet never changed cheer, But grieved to see his friends lamenting stand; The leech prepared his cloths and cleansing gear, And with a belt his gown about him band, Now with his herbs the steely head to tear Out of the flesh he proved, now with his hand, Now with his hand, now with his instrument He shaked and plucked it, yet not forth it went.

LXXII His labor vain, his art prevailed naught, His luck was ill, although his skill were good, To such extremes the wounded prince he brought, That with fell pain he swooned as he stood: But the angel pure, that kept him, went and sought Divine dictamnum, out of Ida wood, This herb is rough, and bears a purple flower, And in his budding leaves lies all his power.

LXXIII Kind nature first upon the craggy clift Bewrayed this herb unto the mountain goat, That when her sides a cruel shaft hath rift, With it she shakes the reed out of her coat; This in a moment fetched the angel swift, And brought from Ida hill, though far remote, The juice whereof in a prepared bath Unseen the blessed spirit poured hath.

LXXIV Pure nectar from that spring of Lydia than, And panaces divine therein he threw, The cunning leech to bathe the wound began, And of itself the steely head outflew; The bleeding stanched, no vermile drop outran, The leg again waxed strong with vigor new: Erotimus cried out, “This hurt and wound No human art or hand so soon makes sound:

LXXV “Some angel good I think come down from skies Thy surgeon is, for here plain tokens are Of grace divine which to thy help applies, Thy weapon take and haste again to war.” In precious cloths his leg the chieftain ties, Naught could the man from blood and fight debar; A sturdy lance in his right hand he braced, His shield he took, and on his helmet laced:

LXXVI And with a thousand knights and barons bold, Toward the town he hasted from his camp, In clouds of dust was Titan’s face enrolled, Trembled the earth whereon the worthies stamp, His foes far off his dreadful looks behold, Which in their hearts of courage quenched the lamp, A chilling fear ran cold through every vein, Lord Godfrey shouted thrice and all his train:

LXXVII Their sovereign’s voice his hardy people knew, And his loud cries that cheered each fearful heart; Thereat new strength they took and courage new, And to the fierce assault again they start. The Pagans twain this while themselves withdrew Within the breach to save that battered part, And with great loss a skirmish hot they hold Against Tancredi and his squadron bold.

LXXVIII Thither came Godfrey armed round about In trusty plate, with fierce and dreadful look; At first approach against Argantes stout Headed with poignant steel a lance he shook, No casting engine with such force throws out A knotty spear, and as the way it took, It whistled in the air, the fearless knight Opposed his shield against that weapon’s might.

LXXIX The dreadful blow quite through his target drove, And bored through his breastplate strong and thick, The tender skin it in his bosom rove, The purple-blood out-streamed from the quick; To wrest it out the wounded Pagan strove And little leisure gave it there to stick; At Godfrey’s head the lance again he cast, And said, “Lo, there again thy dart thou hast.”

LXXX The spear flew back the way it lately came, And would revenge the harm itself had done, But missed the mark whereat the man did aim, He stepped aside the furious blow to shun: But Sigiere in his throat received the same, The murdering weapon at his neck out-run, Nor aught it grieved the man to lose his breath, Since in his prince’s stead he suffered death.

LXXXI Even then the Soldan struck with monstrous main The noble leader of the Norman band, He reeled awhile and staggered with the pain, And wheeling round fell grovelling on the sand: Godfrey no longer could the grief sustain Of these displeasures, but with flaming brand, Up to the breach in heat and haste he goes, And hand to hand there combats with his foes;

LXXXII And there great wonders surely wrought he had, Mortal the fight, and fierce had been the fray, But that dark night, from her pavilion sad, Her cloudy wings did on the earth display, Her quiet shades she interposed glad To cause the knights their arms aside to lay; Godfrey withdrew, and to their tents they wend, And thus this bloody day was brought to end.

LXXXIII The weak and wounded ere he left the field, The godly duke to safety thence conveyed, Nor to his foes his engines would he yield, In them his hope to win the fortress laid; Then to the tower he went, and it beheeld, The tower that late the Pagan lords dismayed But now stood bruised, broken, cracked and shivered, From some sharp storm as it were late delivered.

LXXXIV From dangers great escaped, but late it was, And now to safety brought well-nigh it seems, But as a ship that under sail doth pass The roaring billows and the raging streams, And drawing nigh the wished port, alas, Breaks on some hidden rocks her ribs and beams; Or as a steed rough ways that well hath passed, Before his inn stumbleth and falls at last:

LXXXV Such hap befell that tower, for on that side Gainst which the Pagans’ force and battery bend, Two wheels were broke whereon the piece should ride, The maimed engine could no further wend, The troop that guarded it that part provide To underprop with posts, and it defend Till carpenters and cunning workmen came Whose skill should help and rear again the same.

LXXXVI Thus Godfrey bids, and that ere springing-day, The cracks and bruises all amend they should, Each open passage, and each privy way About the piece, he kept with soldiers bold: But the loud rumor, both of that they say, And that they do, is heard within the hold, A thousand lights about the tower they view, And what they wrought all night both saw and knew.

TWELFTH BOOK

THE ARGUMENT. Clorinda hears her eunuch old report Her birth, her offspring, and her native land; Disguised she fireth Godfrey’s rolling fort. The burned piece falls smoking on the sand: With Tancred long unknown in desperate sort She fights, and falls through pierced with his brand: Christened she dies; with sighs, with plaints and tears. He wails her death; Argant revengement swears.

I Now in dark night was all the world embarred; But yet the tired armies took no rest, The careful French kept heedful watch and ward, While their high tower the workmen newly dressed, The Pagan crew to reinforce prepared The weakened bulwarks, late to earth down kest, Their rampiers broke and bruised walls to mend, Lastly their hurts the wounded knights attend.

II Their wounds were dressed, part of the work was brought To wished end, part left to other days, A dull desire to rest deep midnight wrought, His heavy rod sleep on their eyelids lays: Yet rested not Clorinda’s working thought, Which thirsted still for fame and warlike praise, Argantes eke accompanied the maid From place to place, which to herself thus said:

III “This day Argantes strong, and Solyman, Strange things have done, and purchased great renown, Among our foes out of the walls they ran, Their rams they broke and rent their engines down: I used my bow, of naught else boast I can, My self stood safe meanwhile within this town, And happy was my shot, and prosperous too, But that was all a woman’s hand could do.

IV “On birds and beasts in forests wild that feed It were more fit mine arrows to bestow, Than for a feeble maid in warlike deed With strong and hardy knights herself to show. Why take I not again my virgin’s weed, And spend my days in secret cell unknow?” Thus thought, thus mused, thus devised the maid, And turning to the knight, at last thus said:

V “My thoughts are full, my lord, of strange desire Some high attempt of war to undertake, Whether high God my mind therewith inspire Or of his will his God mankind doth make, Among our foes behold the light and fire, I will among them wend, and burn or break The tower, God grant therein I have my will And that performed, betide me good or ill.

VI “But if it fortune such my chance should be, That to this town I never turn again, Mine eunuch, whom I dearly love, with thee I leave my faithful maids, and all my train, To Egypt then conducted safely see Those woful damsels and that aged swain, Help them, my lord, in that distressed case, Their feeble sex, his age, deserveth grace.”

VII Argantes wondering stood, and felt the effect Of true renown pierce through his glorious mind, “And wilt thou go,” quoth he, “and me neglect, Disgraced, despised, leave in this fort behind? Shall I while these strong walls my life protect Behold thy flames and fires tossed in the wind, No, no, thy fellow have I been in arms, And will be still, in praise, in death, in harms.

VIII “This heart of mine death’s bitter stroke despiseth, For praise this life, for glory take this breath.” “My soul and more,” quoth she, “thy friendship prizeth, For this thy proffered aid required uneath, I but a woman am, no loss ariseth To this besieged city by my death, But if, as God forbid, this night thou fall, Ah! who shall then, who can, defend this wall!”

IX “Too late these ’scuses vain,” the knight replied, “You bring; my will is firm, my mind is set, I follow you whereso you list me guide, Or go before if you my purpose let.” This said, they hasted to the palace wide About their prince where all his lords were met, Clorinda spoke for both, and said, “Sir king, Attend my words, hear, and allow the thing:

X “Argantes here, this bold and hardy knight, Will undertake to burn the wondrous tower, And I with him, only we stay till night Bury in sleep our foes at deadest hour.” The king with that cast up his hands on height, The tears for joy upon his cheeks down pour. “Praised,” quoth he, “be Macon whom we serve, This land I see he keeps and will preserve:

XI “Nor shall so soon this shaken kingdom fall, While such unconquered hearts my state defend: But for this act what praise or guerdon shall I give your virtues, which so far extend? Let fame your praises sound through nations all, And fill the world therewith to either end, Take half my wealth and kingdom for your meed? You are rewarded half even with the deed.”

XII Thus spake the prince, and gently ’gan distrain, Now him, now her, between his friendly arms: The Soldan by, no longer could refrain That noble envy which his bosom warms, “Nor I,” quoth he, “bear this broad sword in vain, Nor yet am unexpert in night alarms, Take me with you: ah.” Quoth Clorinda, “no! Whom leave we here of prowess if you go?”

XIII This spoken, ready with a proud refuse Argantes was his proffered aid to scorn, Whom Aladine prevents, and with excuse To Solyman thus gan his speeches torn: “Right noble prince, as aye hath been your use Your self so still you bear and long have borne, Bold in all acts, no danger can affright Your heart, nor tired is your strength with fight.

XIV “If you went forth great things perform you would, In my conceit yet far unfit it seems That you, who most excel in courage bold, At once should leave this town in these extremes, Nor would I that these twain should leave this hold, My heart their noble lives far worthier deems, If this attempt of less importance were, Or weaker posts so great a weight could bear.

XV “But for well-guarded is the mighty tower With hardy troops and squadrons round about, And cannot harmed be with little power, Nor fit the time to send whole armies out, This pair who passed have many a dreadful stowre, And proffer now to prove this venture stout, Alone to this attempt let them go forth, Alone than thousands of more price and worth.

XVI “Thou, as it best beseems a mighty king, With ready bands besides the gate attend, That when this couple have performed the thing, And shall again their footsteps homeward bend, From their strong foes upon them following Thou may’st them keep, preserve, save and defend:” Thus said the king, “The Soldan must consent,” Silent remained the Turk, and discontent.

XVII Then Ismen said, “You twain that undertake This hard attempt, awhile I pray you stay, Till I a wildfire of fine temper make, That this great engine burn to ashes may; Haply the guard that now doth watch and wake, Will then lie tumbled sleeping on the lay;” Thus they conclude, and in their chambers sit, To wait the time for this adventure fit.

XVIII Clorinda there her silver arms off rent, Her helm, her shield, her hauberk shining bright, An armor black as jet or coal she hent, Wherein withouten plume herself she dight; For thus disguised amid her foes she meant To pass unseen, by help of friendly night, To whom her eunuch, old Arsetes, came, That from her cradle nursed and kept the dame.

XIX This aged sire had followed far and near, Through lands and seas, the strong and hardy maid, He saw her leave her arms and wonted gear, Her danger nigh that sudden change foresaid: By his white locks from black that changed were In following her, the woful man her prayed, By all his service and his taken pain, To leave that fond attempt, but prayed in vain.

XX “At last,” quoth he, “since hardened to thine ill, Thy cruel heart is to thy loss prepared, That my weak age, nor tears that down distil, Not humble suit, nor plaint, thou list regard; Attend awhile, strange things unfold I will, Hear both thy birth and high estate declared; Follow my counsel, or thy will that done,” She sat to hear, the eunuch thus begun:

XXI “Senapus ruled, and yet perchance doth reign In mighty Ethiop, and her deserts waste, The lore of Christ both he and all his train Of people black, hath kept and long embraced, To him a Pagan was I sold for gain, And with his queen, as her chief eunuch, placed; Black was this queen as jet, yet on her eyes Sweet loveliness, in black attired, lies.

XXII “The fire of love and frost of jealousy, Her husband’s troubled soul alike torment, The tide of fond suspicion flowed high, The foe to love and plague to sweet content, He mewed her up from sight of mortal eye, Nor day he would his beams on her had bent: She, wise and lowly, by her husband’s pleasure, Her joy, her peace, her will, her wish did measure.

XXIII “Her prison was a chamber, painted round With goodly portraits and with stories old, As white as snow there stood a virgin bound, Besides a dragon fierce, a champion bold The monster did with poignant spear through wound, The gored beast lay dead upon the mould; The gentle queen before this image laid. She plained, she mourned, she wept, she sighed, she prayed:

XXIV “At last with child she proved, and forth she brought, And thou art she, a daughter fair and bright, In her thy color white new terror wrought, She wondered on thy face with strange affright, But yet she purposed in her fearful thought To hide thee from the king, thy father’s sight, Lest thy bright hue should his suspect approve, For seld a crow begets a silver dove.

XXV “And to her spouse to show she was disposed A negro’s babe late born, in room of thee, And for the tower wherein she lay enclosed, Was with her damsels only wond and me, To me, on whose true faith she most reposed, She gave thee, ere thou couldest christened be, Nor could I since find means thee to baptize, In Pagan lands thou knowest it’s not the guise.

XXVI “To me she gave thee, and she wept withal, To foster thee in some far distant place. Who can her griefs and plaints to reckoning call, How oft she swooned at the last embrace: Her streaming tears amid her kisses fall, Her sighs, her dire complaints did interlace? And looking up at last, ‘O God,’ quoth she, ‘Who dost my heart and inward mourning see,

XXVII “‘If mind and body spotless to this day, If I have kept my bed still undefiled, Not for myself a sinful wretch I pray, That in thy presence am an abject vilde, Preserve this babe, whose mother must denay To nourish it, preserve this harmless child, Oh let it live, and chaste like me it make, But for good fortune elsewhere sample take.

XXVIII “‘Thou heavenly soldier which delivered hast That sacred virgin from the serpent old, If on thine altars I have offerings placed, And sacrificed myrrh, frankincense and gold, On this poor child thy heavenly looks down cast, With gracious eye this silly babe behold;’ This said, her strength and living sprite was fled, She sighed, she groaned, she swooned in her bed.

XXIX “Weeping I took thee, in a little chest, Covered with herbs and leaves, I brought thee out So secretly, that none of all the rest Of such an act suspicion had or doubt, To wilderness my steps I first addressed, Where horrid shades enclosed me round about, A tigress there I met, in whose fierce eyes Fury and wrath, rage, death and terror lies:

XXX “Up to a tree I leaped, and on the grass, Such was my sudden fear, I left thee lying, To thee the beast with furious course did pass, With curious looks upon thy visage prying, All suddenly both meek and mild she was, With friendly cheer thy tender body eying: At last she licked thee, and with gesture mild About thee played, and thou upon her smiled.

XXXI “Her fearful muzzle full of dreadful threat, In thy weak hand thou took’st withouten dread; The gentle beast with milk-outstretched teat, As nurses’ custom, proffered thee to feed. As one that wondereth on some marvel great, I stood this while amazed at the deed. When thee she saw well filled and satisfied, Unto the woods again the tigress hied.

XXXII “She gone, down from the tree I came in haste, And took thee up, and on my journey wend, Within a little thorp I stayed at last, And to a nurse the charge of thee commend, And sporting with thee there long time I passed, Till term of sixteen months were brought to end, And thou begun, as little children do, With half clipped words to prattle, and to go.

XXXIII “But having passed the August of mine age, When more than half my tap of life was run, Rich by rewards given by your mother sage, For merits past, and service yet undone, I longed to leave this wandering pilgrimage, And in my native soil again to won, To get some seely home I had desire, Loth still to warm me at another’s fire.

XXXIV “To Egypt-ward, where I was born, I went, And bore thee with me, by a rolling flood, Till I with savage thieves well-nigh was hent; Before the brook, the thieves behind me stood: Thee to forsake I never could consent, And gladly would I ’scape those outlaws wood, Into the flood I leaped far from the brim, My left hand bore thee, with the right I swim.

XXXV “Swift was the current, in the middle stream A whirlpool gaped with devouring jaws, The gulf, on such mishap ere I could dream, Into his deep abyss my carcass draws, There I forsook thee, the wild waters seem To pity thee, a gentle wind there blows Whose friendly puffs safe to the shore thee drive, Where wet and weary I at last arrive:

XXXVI “I took thee up, and in my dream that night, When buried was the world in sleep and shade, I saw a champion clad in armor bright That o’er my head shaked a flaming blade, He said, ‘I charge thee execute aright, That charge this infant’s mother on thee laid, Baptize the child, high Heaven esteems her dear, And I her keeper will attend her near:

XXXVII “‘I will her keep, defend, save and protect, I made the waters mild, the tigress tame, O wretch that heavenly warnings dost reject!’ The warrior vanished having said the same. I rose and journeyed on my way direct When blushing morn from Tithon’s bed forth came, But for my faith is true and sure I ween, And dreams are false, you still unchristened been.

XXXVIII “A Pagan therefore thee I fostered have, Nor of thy birth the truth did ever tell, Since you increased are in courage brave, Your sex and nature’s-self you both excel, Full many a realm have you made bond and slave, Your fortunes last yourself remember well, And how in peace and war, in joy and teen, I have your servant, and your tutor been.

XXXIX “Last morn, from skies ere stars exiled were, In deep and deathlike sleep my senses drowned, The self-same vision did again appear, With stormy wrathful looks, and thundering sound, ‘Villain,’ quoth he, ‘within short while thy dear Must change her life, and leave this sinful ground, Thine be the loss, the torment, and the care,’ This said, he fled through skies, through clouds and air.

XL “Hear then my joy, my hope, my darling, hear, High Heaven some dire misfortune threatened hath, Displeased pardie, because I did thee lere A lore repugnant to thy parents’ faith; Ah, for my sake, this bold attempt forbear; Put off these sable arms, appease thy wrath.” This said, he wept, she pensive stood and sad, Because like dream herself but lately had.

XLI With cheerful smile she answered him at last, “I will this faith observe, it seems me true, Which from my cradle age thou taught me hast; I will not change it for religion new, Nor with vain shows of fear and dread aghast This enterprise forbear I to pursue, No, not if death in his most dreadful face Wherewith he scareth mankind, kept the place.”

XLII Approachen gan the time, while thus she spake, Wherein they ought that dreadful hazard try; She to Argantes went, who should partake Of her renown and praise, or with her die. Ismen with words more hasty still did make Their virtue great, which by itself did fly, Two balls he gave them made of hollow brass, Wherein enclosed fire, pitch, and brimstone was.

XLIII And forth they went, and over dale and hill They hasted forward with a speedy pace, Unseen, unmarked, undescried, until Beside the engine close themselves they place, New courage there their swelling hearts did fill, Rage in their breasts, fury shown in their face, They yearned to blow the fire, and draw the sword. The watch descried them both, and gave the word.

XLIV Silent they passed on, the watch begun To rear a huge alarm with hideous cries, Therewith the hardy couple forward run To execute their valiant enterprise: So from a cannon or a roaring gun At once the noise, the flame, and bullet flies, They run, they give the charge, begin the fray, And all at once their foes break, spoil and slay.

XLV They passed first through thousand thousand blows, And then performed their designment bold, A fiery ball each on the engine throws, The stuff was dry, the fire took quickly hold, Furious upon the timber-work it grows, How it increased cannot well be told, How it crept up the piece, and how to skies The burning sparks and towering smoke upflies.

XLVI A mass of solid fire burning bright Rolled up in smouldering fumes, there bursteth out, And there the blustering winds add strength and might And gather close the sparsed flames about: The Frenchmen trembled at the dreadful light, To arms in haste and fear ran all the rout, Down fell the piece dreaded so much in war, Thus what long days do make one hour doth mar.

XLVII Two Christian bands this while came to the place With speedy haste, where they beheld the fire, Argantes to them cried with scornful grace, “Your blood shall quench these flames, and quench mine ire:” This said, the maid and he with sober pace Drew back, and to the banks themselves retire, Faster than brooks which falling showers increase Their foes augment, and faster on them press.

XLVIII The gilden port was opened, and forth stepped With all his soldiers bold, the Turkish king, Ready to aid the two his force he kept, When fortune should them home with conquest bring, Over the bars the hardy couple leapt And after them a band of Christians fling, Whom Solyman drove back with courage stout, And shut the gate, but shut Clorinda out.

XLIX Alone was she shut forth, for in that hour Wherein they closed the port, the virgin went, And full of heat and wrath, her strength and power Gainst Arimon, that struck her erst, she bent, She slew the knight, nor Argant in that stowre Wist of her parting, or her fierce intent, The fight, the press, the night, and darksome skies Care from his heart had ta’en, sight from his eyes.

L But when appeased was her angry mood, Her fury calmed, and settled was her head, She saw the gates were shut, and how she stood Amid her foes, she held herself for dead; While none her marked at last she thought it good, To save her life, some other path to tread, She feigned her one of them, and close her drew Amid the press that none her saw or knew:

LI Then as a wolf guilty of some misdeed Flies to some grove to hide himself from view, So favored with the night, with secret speed Dissevered from the press the damsel flew: Tancred alone of her escape took heed, He on that quarter was arrived new, When Arimon she killed he thither came, He saw it, marked it, and pursued the dame.

LII He deemed she was some man of mickle might, And on her person would he worship win, Over the hills the nymph her journey dight Toward another port, there to get in: With hideous noise fast after spurred the knight, She heard and stayed, and thus her words begin, “What haste hast thou? ride softly, take thy breath, What bringest thou?” He answered, “War and death.”

LIII “And war and death,” quoth she, “here mayest thou get If thou for battle come,” with that she stayed: Tancred to ground his foot in haste down set, And left his steed, on foot he saw the maid, Their courage hot, their ire and wrath they whet, And either champion drew a trenchant blade, Together ran they, and together stroke, Like two fierce bulls whom rage and love provoke.

LIV Worthy of royal lists and brightest day, Worthy a golden trump and laurel crown, The actions were and wonders of that fray Which sable knight did in dark bosom drown: Yet night, consent that I their acts display And make their deeds to future ages known, And in records of long enduring story Enrol their praise, their fame, their worth and glory.

LV They neither shrunk, nor vantage sought of ground, They traverse not, nor skipped from part to part, Their blows were neither false nor feigned found, The night, their rage would let them use no art, Their swords together clash with dreadful sound, Their feet stand fast, and neither stir nor start, They move their hands, steadfast their feet remain, Nor blow nor loin they struck, or thrust in vain.

LVI Shame bred desire a sharp revenge to take, And vengeance taken gave new cause of shame: So that with haste and little heed they strake, Fuel enough they had to feed the flame; At last so close their battle fierce they make, They could not wield their swords, so nigh they came, They used the hilts, and each on other rushed, And helm to helm, and shield to shield they crushed.

LVII Thrice his strong arms he folds about her waist, And thrice was forced to let the virgin go, For she disdained to be so embraced, No lover would have strained his mistress so: They took their swords again, and each enchased Deep wounds in the soft flesh of his strong foe, Till weak and weary, faint, alive uneath, They both retired at once, at once took breath.