There where the Franks their large pavillions spred,
Whose bewtie rare at his apparence lends
Babling to tongues and eyes a gazing led,
As when some starre or comete strange ascends,
And in cleere day through sky his beames doth shed.
They flocke in plumps this pilgrim faire to vew, (groups
And to be wizde what cause her thither drew. (and to learn
29. Not Argos, Cyprus, Delos ere present
Paternes of shape, or bewtie could so deere.
Gold are her lockes, which in white shadow pent,
Erst do but but glipmse eft all disclosde appeare,
As when new clensde we see the element.
Sometimes the sun shines through white cloud uncleere,
Sometimes from cloud out gone his raies more bright
He sheads abroad, dubling of day the light.
30. The winde new crisples make in her loose haire, (waves
Which nature selfe to waves recrispelled.
Her sparing looke a coy regard doth beare,
And loves treasures, and her up wympelled.
Sweete roses colour in that visage faire
With yvorie sperst and mingelled.
But in her mouth whence breath of love out goes,
Ruddy alone and single bloomes the rose.
31. Her bosome faire musters his naked snow,
Whence fire of love is nourisht and revives.
Her pappes bitter unripe in part doe show,
And parth th’envious weed from sight deprives.
Envous, but though it close passage so
To eyes, loves thought unstaid yet farder strives,
Which outward bewty taking not for pay
Ev’n to his secrets hid endeeres a way.
32. As through water or christall sound the ray
Passeth, and it devides or parteth not,
So piercing through her closed robe a way,
His daring thought to part forboddon got.
It roameth there, there true it doth survay,
Of so great marvailes part by part the plot.
Then to desire it tels, and it descrives,
And in his breast the flames more quicke revives.
33. Eyed and praysd Armida past the while
Through the desirefull troupes, and wist it well,
But makes no show, though in heart she smile,
And there deseignes of spoiles and conquests swell,
As thus some guide she craves with doubtfull stile,
For her safe conduct to the coronel.
Eustace her meetes, who claymes a brother-hed
In him, that chiefe those armed forces led.
34. As fly at flame, so he about turned
At the brightnes of this bewtie devine,
And neere those lights to view he coveted,
Whom modest fashion sweetly can encline,
And cought great flame, and close it fostered,
As neered tinder doth the sparckle shrine,
And too her sayd (for hart and hardiment
The heat of yeares and love unto him lent):
35. “Lady, if you at least so base a name
Beseeme, who nothing earthly represent,
Nor every skyes on daughter of Adame,
Of their faire light so large a treasure spent,
What ist you seeke? Whence is it that you came?
What fortune yours or ours you hither bent?
Make me know who you are, make me not misse
To yeeld you right, and do what reason is.”
36. “Your prayse too loftie mounts,” she answering sayth,
“Not to such height our merit can arrive.
You see one, sir, not subject sole to death,
But dead to joy, onely to woe alive.
My hard mis-hap me hither carryeth,
A pilgrim mayden poore and fugitive.
I seeke good Godfrey, and in him affy, (trust
Such fame about doth of his bountie fly.
37. “Do you to captaine mine accesse obtaine,
If kinde and courteous (as you seeme) you be,
That to the one t’other brothers paine
You guide, and him entreat tis meete.” Quoth he,
“Faire maide, you have not made recourse in vaine,
Nor in the meanest grace he holdeth me.
At your best liking all is yours to spend,
What so his scepter or my sword may frend.”
38. He ends, and guides her where good Bulleyn stald
Twixt worthies great, stolne from the vulgar was.
Lowly she bendeth, and with shame appald,
No word from out her lips could winne a passe.
But those blushings the champion recald
To boldnes, and from feare assurde the lasse,
So as conceiv’d harmes she unfoldes at last,
With tune which senses in sweete fetters cast:
39. “Victorious prince (she sayd), whose greatest name
With so rich furniture adorned flyes,
That kings and countries, whom subdew and tame
Thou dost in warre it as their glory prayse,
Well is thy valour knowne, and as the fame
Is lov’d and praysd ev’n by thine enimies.
So it affies, and them invites again
Aide at thy hands to beg and to obtaine.
40. “And I borne in a faith so wide from thine,
As it thou quaylist, and now seek’st to oppresse.
Yet hope by thee that noble feat of mine,
And parents royall mace to repossesse.
And where kynnes and others to crave encline,
Gainst strangers fury, which workes their distresse,
I, since in them dew pittie beares no stroke,
Against my bloud mine en’mies armes invoke.
41. “On thee I call, in thee I hope alone,
In height (whence I was thrown) thou canst me place.
Nor ought thy right hand show it selfe lesse prone
Me to up-rayse, then others to abase,
Nor yet lesse prayse does vaunt of pittie owne
Then when triumphant thou giev’st en’my chase,
And as thou couldst their realmes from many rend,
So mine restord will equall glory lend.
42. “But if our divers faith perhaps thee move
Mine honest prayre to scorne, let faith profest
Sole on thy pitie to relie approve
My suit. Twere hard it should deluded rest.
Witnesse (o God) like good to all above,
Your juster aide to none was ever prest.
But that the whole may in your knowledge fall,
Here my mis-haps, and other fraudes withall.
43. “I daughter am to Arbylan that raygn’d
On faire Damascus, though of meanely race.
But he Cariclia faire to spowse obtained,
And she him graced with th’imperiall mace.
On her fell death well neere the mastry gain’d
Ere I had birth, for she did it embrace
As I forsooke her wombe. One fatall day
Doth death to her, and me to life convay.
44. “But the fifth yeare had scarce fulfild his date
From time that she her mortall vayle off threw,
When as my father yeelding unto fate
In heav’n perhaps with her allyde anew,
Leaving the charge of me, and of the state
To brother, whom he bare a love so trew,
As if goodnes in mortall breast remaine,
He might be sure of his true faith againe.
45. “He then thus to my government ordayned,
Of my well-doing mustred such a care,
As price and prayse he wanne of faith unstaynd,
And of a fathers love and kindnesse rare.
Weart that his inward thought with malice stayned,
Then u
nder other cloake conceyld he bare,
Or that his will as yet just meaning led,
Because he ment me with his sonne to wed.
46. “I grew, and his sonne grew, but never ought
Of knightly parts or noble artes he reakes,
Nothing thats rare, no gentlemanlike thought
Buside his head, nor too much wit it breakes.
Under deform’d shape he a mind of nought
And proud hart bare, addict to gluttish freakes,
In clownish acts, and fashions such an elfe
As sole for vices he could match himselfe.
47. “Now my good guardein, with so brave a mate
In wedlockes bondes resolves me fast to knit,
And him of bed, and of my royall state
Consort to make, and oft he told me it.
He usde his tongue and traines, he usde his pate, (deceptions
That wisht effect might to his purpose fit,
Yet could he never me to promise sway,
But sowre still held my peace, or gave a nay.
48. “At last he parts with looke darke clouded so,
As cleere there through his felon hart shined,
And well the story of my future woe
In his forehead (me seem’d) I written red.
Then were my night rests, when to couch I goe,
With strange dreames still and bugbeares troubelled,
And in my soule a fatall horrour pight, (pitched
Was of my harmes a halsner over right. (prophet
49. “My mothers ghoast did oft it selfe present,
A paly image, and of dolefull plight.
Alas! How farre from that hew different,
Which elsewhere purtrayd earst had pleasd my sight?
‘Fly, daughter, fly thy now, now imminent
And cruell death (she said) make speedly flight.
I see (loe poyson) to thy wracke preparde
By the felle tyrant, and his weapon barde.’
50. “But what avayled it, ah, that such presage
Of neering perill warning gave my mind,
If that surprizde with feare my tender age
All unresolved could on nothing bind
My flight to wilfull exile to engage,
And naked leave my native realme behind?
So grievous seem’d as lesse I reckoned
Eyes there to close, where first I opened.
51. “Alas! I feared death, and yet (who ere
Wist of the like?) had not the hart to fly.
Afrayd I was ev’n to disclose my feare,
Least haste might life sooner to death affy. (bind close
So restlesse and turmoyld my dayes out weare
In never ceasing martyrdome did I,
Like him that lookes ech stond in bared necke, (hour
When cruell axe shall his lives warrant checke.
52. “In such my state, were it in my friendly hap,
Or that for worse, me on my destny led,
One, whom in Court ev’n from his mother lap
In neere service my father up had bred,
To me bewrayes that of my fatall clap
Approcht the time, by tyrant limited,
And that selfe day he promisde had the beast
By poysoning me to complish his beheast.
53. “And farder addes, that of my running days
I onely could prolong the course by flight.
And since I hopte for aid none other wayes,
Prompt his owne paines unto my helpe he plight,
Whose comforts so my drooping courage rayse,
As bit of feare lost his restrayining might,
And I resolv’d that night with him to go,
Flying my unckle and my countrey fro.
54. “Uprose the night more darke than wonted was,
Whose well befriending shadowes us protect.
So safely foorth with damsels twaine I passe,
For my downe fallen fortune mates elect.
But backe to contrey walls mine eyes (alas!)
Bayned with teares, I turning oft direct, (gaped for
Nor ever of my native soyle the sight
Me thoroughly satisfie at parting might.
55. “The eye and thought both walked backe that way,
The foot much gainst his liking forward went,
Like ship from loved shore where safe it lay,
Which some fierce sodaine storme hath wrackful rent.
That night we farde, and all th’ensewing day
Through coverts where step earst was never bent,
And to a castle we arriv’d at last
Upon the confines of my kingdome plast.
56. “Aront the castle owned, Aront his name
Was, who me drew and kept this perill fro.
But when the traytour saw the deadly frame
Of his wiles falne, and me escaped so,
Kindled with rage his owne deserved blame
On our two backes he labours backe to throw,
And us to charge with that mis-doing sought,
Which he himselfe against me wold have wrougt.
57. “He sayes how Ariont I with guifts did bribe
To spice his cup with juyce envenomed,
That, he wonce gone, none might thenceforth prescribe
A law, or raine my will unbridelled.
And then would hoyting wanton to a tribe (go romping
Of loves my body have abandoned.
Ah, first let flame from sky on me descend,
Sacred vertue, ere I thy laws offend!
58. “That hungrey teene of gold and thirst withall (vexation
Of mine unharmefuly bloud her self hath cought.
It sorely grieves, ye more my hart doth gall,
That my cleere honour he to blemish sought,
The wretch whom feares of peoples brunt appall
With such embellishment his leasings wrought, (falsehoods
That doubtfull of the troth, and in suspence,
The towne rose not in armes for my defence.
59. “Nor for he now is stalled in my seate,
And on his his crowne my royall crowne doth shine,
An end unto my shame and harmes so great
His still on-pricking fiercenes will assigne,
But Aront in his fort to burne doth threat,
Unlesse in prison up himselfe he shrine,
And to my conforts, and poore soule to me,
Not warre, but racks and deaths denounceth he.
60. “This he pretends to do, as if he thought
So from his face to wash away the shame,
And to restore dew place, whence I it rought,
To th’honour of my bloud and princely name.
But feare it causde least scepter might be cought
Him fro, I being true heire to the same,
For onely if I fall, a setled stay
Plant on my ruines for his rayne he may.
61. “And ev’n such end will jump with fell desire,
Whereto the tyrants mind is fully bent,
And by my bloud shall quenched be his ire,
Which at my teares would never yet relent.
If thou let not, to thee I fly (o sire) (prevent
A wench, a wretch, orphane, and innocent.
Let this plaint, which mine eyes shed at thy feet,
Vayle me that bloud from vaines not also fleet.
62. “By these legs which the proud and lewd down tread,
By this hand which assisteth aie the right,
By thine high victories, and by the aide
Thou hast, and dost those holy temples plight,
Do thou my suit, that sole art able, stead.
Let both to life and realme thy pittie dight.
One helpe for all yet voyde let pittie bee,
If right and reason also move not thee.
63. “Thou whom the sky graunted and gave in fate
To will whats just, and wh
at thou will t’obtaine,
Mayst save my life, and winne thy selfe a state,
For thine it shall be, if it I regaine.
Ten onely champions of the bravest rate
I seeke to cull amidst so great a traine.
For with my fathers friends and subjectes trew
They’ll serve to roost me in my nest anew.
64. “Yea more one of the chiefe, whose loyaltee
With guard is trusted of a secret port.
It promiseth by night to d’ope, and mee
Into his pallace let, and doth exhort
That only some small aide I begge of thee,
And thereon more rely for sound comfort
Then if I had huge troup of other freakes.
So much thine ensigne and sole name he reakes.” (esteems
65. This sayd, she peac’d, and his answer attends,
In act which silent doth both speake and pray.
Godfrey his doubtfull mind tossing suspends
Twixt divers thoughts, ne wots which side to sway.
He dreads barbarians wiles, and well comprehends
Man findes no faith were God receives a nay.
But t’other side a milde ruth him awakes,
Which in a worthy mind sleepe never takes.
66. Nor sole his native pitie, usde tofore,
Willeth that her of helpefull grace he deygne,
But profit moves him eke for profit store:
T’will bring in Damascus such do reygne,
As may on him depend, and ope the dore,
And plaine the path to every his deseigne,
And men may minister and armes and gold
Against th’ Egyptians, and his party hold.
67. Whilst doubtfull thus his looke on ground he bends,
And in deepe thought revolves, and tosseth carkes,
The dames fixt eye on his countance depends,
And all his acts observes, and heedy markes,
And for delay time past her deeming spends.
With feares and sighes she for his answer harkes.
At last the craved grace he her denies,
But th’answere gave in kind and gentle wise:
68. “If in Gods service, Who us thereto chose,
Our swords were not employed here to be,
On them you safely might your hope repose,
And you not pittie sole, but aide would we.
But till that these His flockes, and till that those
Oppressed walles we turne to libertie,
It is not just that forces sent away
On course of victory we thwart a stay.
69. “I promise, yet do you my faith receive
As noble pawne, and safe thereon rely.
If every we may yoake unworthy reave
From those walles sacred and most deere to sky,
As pitie bids us, we no care will leave
To winne againe your forlorne soveraigntie.
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