Jerusalem Delivered

by Torquato Tasso

  About the pile of fagots, sticks and hay,

  The bellows raised the newly-kindled flame,

  When thus Olindo, in a doleful lay,

  Begun too late his bootless plaints to frame:

  “Be these the bonds? Is this the hoped-for day,

  Should join me to this long-desired dame?

  Is this the fire alike should burn our hearts?

  Ah, hard reward for lovers’ kind desarts!

  XXXIV

  “Far other flames and bonds kind lovers prove,

  But thus our fortune casts the hapless die,

  Death hath exchanged again his shafts with love,

  And Cupid thus lets borrowed arrows fly.

  O Hymen, say, what fury doth thee move

  To lend thy lamps to light a tragedy?

  Yet this contents me that I die for thee,

  Thy flames, not mine, my death and torment be.

  XXXV

  “Yet happy were my death, mine ending blest,

  My torments easy, full of sweet delight,

  It this I could obtain, that breast to breast

  Thy bosom might receive my yielded sprite;

  And thine with it in heaven’s pure clothing drest,

  Through clearest skies might take united flight.”

  Thus he complained, whom gently she reproved,

  And sweetly spake him thus, that so her loved:

  XXXVI

  “Far other plaints, dear friend, tears and laments

  The time, the place, and our estates require;

  Think on thy sins, which man’s old foe presents

  Before that judge that quits each soul his hire,

  For his name suffer, for no pain torments

  Him whose just prayers to his throne aspire:

  Behold the heavens, thither thine eyesight bend,

  Thy looks, sighs, tears, for intercessors send.”

  XXXVII

  The Pagans loud cried out to God and man,

  The Christians mourned in silent lamentation,

  The tyrant’s self, a thing unused, began

  To feel his heart relent, with mere compassion,

  But not disposed to ruth or mercy than

  He sped him thence home to his habitation:

  Sophronia stood not grieved nor discontented,

  By all that saw her, but herself, lamented.

  XXXVIII

  The lovers standing in this doleful wise,

  A warrior bold unwares approached near,

  In uncouth arms yclad and strange disguise,

  From countries far, but new arrived there,

  A savage tigress on her helmet lies,

  The famous badge Clorinda used to bear;

  That wonts in every warlike stowre to win,

  By which bright sign well known was that fair inn.

  XXXIX

  She scorned the arts these silly women use,

  Another thought her nobler humor fed,

  Her lofty hand would of itself refuse

  To touch the dainty needle or nice thread,

  She hated chambers, closets, secret news,

  And in broad fields preserved her maidenhead:

  Proud were her looks, yet sweet, though stern and stout,

  Her dam a dove, thus brought an eagle out.

  XL

  While she was young, she used with tender hand

  The foaming steed with froary bit to steer,

  To tilt and tourney, wrestle in the sand,

  To leave with speed Atlanta swift arear,

  Through forests wild, and unfrequented land

  To chase the lion, boar, or rugged bear,

  The satyrs rough, the fauns and fairies wild,

  She chased oft, oft took, and oft beguiled.

  XLI

  This lusty lady came from Persia late,

  She with the Christians had encountered eft,

  And in their flesh had opened many a gate,

  By which their faithful souls their bodies left,

  Her eye at first presented her the state

  Of these poor souls, of hope and help bereft,

  Greedy to know, as is the mind of man,

  Their cause of death, swift to the fire she ran.

  XLII

  The people made her room, and on them twain

  Her piercing eyes their fiery weapons dart,

  Silent she saw the one, the other ‘plain,

  The weaker body lodged the nobler heart:

  Yet him she saw lament, as if his pain

  Were grief and sorrow for another’s smart,

  And her keep silence so, as if her eyes

  Dumb orators were to entreat the skies.

  XLIII

  Clorinda changed to ruth her warlike mood,

  Few silver drops her vermeil cheeks depaint;

  Her sorrow was for her that speechless stood,

  Her silence more prevailed than his complaint.

  She asked an aged man, seemed grave and good,

  “Come say me, sir,” quoth she, “what hard constraint

  Would murder here love’s queen and beauty’s king?

  What fault or fare doth to this death them bring?”

  XLIV

  Thus she inquired, and answer short he gave,

  But such as all the chance at large disclosed,

  She wondered at the case, the virgin brave,

  That both were guiltless of the fault supposed,

  Her noble thought cast how she might them save,

  The means on suit or battle she reposed.

  Quick to the fire she ran, and quenched it out,

  And thus bespake the sergeants and the rout:

  XLV

  “Be there not one among you all that dare

  In this your hateful office aught proceed,

  Till I return from court, nor take you care

  To reap displeasure for not making speed.”

  To do her will the men themselves prepare,

  In their faint hearts her looks such terror breed;

  To court she went, their pardon would she get,

  But on the way the courteous king she met.

  XLVI

  “Sir King,” quoth she, “my name Clorinda hight,

  My fame perchance has pierced your ears ere now,

  I come to try my wonted power and might,

  And will defend this land, this town, and you,

  All hard assays esteem I eath and light,

  Great acts I reach to, to small things I bow,

  To fight in field, or to defend this wall,

  Point what you list, I naught refuse at all.”

  XLVII

  To whom the king, “What land so far remote

  From Asia’s coasts, or Phoebus’ glistering rays,

  O glorious virgin, that recordeth not

  Thy fame, thine honor, worth, renown, and praise?

  Since on my side I have thy succors got,

  I need not fear in these my aged days,

  For in thine aid more hope, more trust I have,

  Than in whole armies of these soldiers brave.

  XLVIII

  “Now, Godfrey stays too long; he fears, I ween;

  Thy courage great keeps all our foes in awe;

  For thee all actions far unworthy been,

  But such as greatest danger with them draw:

  Be you commandress therefore, Princess, Queen

  Of all our forces: be thy word a law.”

  This said, the virgin gan her beaver vail,

  And thanked him first, and thus began her tale.

  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,

&
nbsp; 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