Jerusalem Delivered

by Torquato Tasso

  But Godfrey that perceived in his wise heart,

  How his bold knights to victory aspired,

  Fresh soldiers sent, to make more quick pursuit,

  And help to gather conquest’s precious fruit.

  CXV

  But this, alas, was not the appointed day,

  Set down by Heaven to end this mortal war:

  The western lords this time had borne away

  The prize, for which they travelled had so far,

  Had not the devils, that saw the sure decay

  Of their false kingdom by this bloody war,

  At once made heaven and earth with darkness blind,

  And stirred up tempests, storms, and blustering wind.

  CXVI

  Heaven’s glorious lamp, wrapped in an ugly veil

  Of shadows dark, was hid from mortal eye,

  And hell’s grim blackness did bright skies assail;

  On every side the fiery lightnings fly,

  The thunders roar, the streaming rain and hail

  Pour down and make that sea which erst was dry.

  The tempests rend the oaks and cedars brake,

  And make not trees but rocks and mountains shake.

  CXVII

  The rain, the lightning, and the raging wind,

  Beat in the Frenchmen’s eyes with hideous force,

  The soldiers stayed amazed in heart and mind,

  The terror such that stopped both man and horse.

  Surprised with this evil no way they find,

  Whither for succor to direct their course,

  But wise Clorinda soon the advantage spied,

  And spurring forth thus to her soldiers cried:

  CXVIII

  “You hardy men at arms behold,” quoth she,

  “How Heaven, how Justice in our aid doth fight,

  Our visages are from this tempest free,

  Our hands at will may wield our weapons bright,

  The fury of this friendly storm you see

  Upon the foreheads of our foes doth light,

  And blinds their eyes, then let us take the tide,

  Come, follow me, good fortune be our guide.”

  CXIX

  This said, against her foes on rode the dame,

  And turned their backs against the wind and rain;

  Upon the French with furious rage she came,

  And scorned those idle blows they struck in vain;

  Argantes at the instant did the same,

  And them who chased him now chased again,

  Naught but his fearful back each Christian shows

  Against the tempest, and against their blows.

  CXX

  The cruel hail, and deadly wounding blade,

  Upon their shoulders smote them as they fled,

  The blood new spilt while thus they slaughter made,

  The water fallen from skies had dyed red,

  Among the murdered bodies Pyrrhus laid,

  And valiant Raiphe his heart blood there out bled,

  The first subdued by strong Argantes’ might,

  The second conquered by that virgin knight.

  CXXI

  Thus fled the French, and then pursued in chase

  The wicked sprites and all the Syrian train:

  But gainst their force and gainst their fell menace

  Of hail and wind, of tempest and of rain,

  Godfrey alone turned his audacious face,

  Blaming his barons for their fear so vain,

  Himself the camp gate boldly stood to keep,

  And saved his men within his trenches deep.

  CXXII

  And twice upon Argantes proud he flew,

  And beat him backward, maugre all his might,

  And twice his thirsty sword he did imbrue,

  In Pagan’s blood where thickest was the fight;

  At last himself with all his folk withdrew,

  And that day’s conquest gave the virgin bright,

  Which got, she home retired and all her men,

  And thus she chased this lion to his den.

  CXXIII

  Yet ceased not the fury and the ire

  Of these huge storms, of wind, of rain and hail,

  Now was it dark, now shone the lightning fire,

  The wind and water every place assail,

  No bank was safe, no rampire left entire,

  No tent could stand, when beam and cordage fail,

  Wind, thunder, rain, all gave a dreadful sound,

  And with that music deafed the trembling ground.

  EIGHTH BOOK

  THE ARGUMENT.

  The Prince of Denmark’s valour, death and end:

  The Italians, trusting signs untrue too well,

  Think their Rinaldo slain: the wicked fiend

  Breeds fury in their breasts, their bosoms swell

  With ire and hate, and war and strife forth send:

  They threaten Godfrey; he prays to the Lord,

  And calms their fury with his look and word.

  I

  Now were the skies of storms and tempests cleared,

  Lord Aeolus shut up his winds in hold,

  The silver-mantled morning fresh appeared,

  With roses crowned, and buskined high with gold;

  The spirits yet which had these tempests reared,

  Their malice would still more and more unfold;

  And one of them that Astragor was named,

  His speeches thus to foul Alecto framed.

  II

  “Alecto, see, we could not stop nor stay

  The knight that to our foes new tidings brings,

  Who from the hands escaped, with life away,

  Of that great prince, chief of all Pagan kings:

  He comes, the fall of his slain lord to say,

  Of death and loss he tells, and such sad things,

  Great news he brings, and greatest dangers is,

  Bertoldo’s son shall be called home for this.

  III

  “Thou knowest what would befall, bestir thee than;

  Prevent with craft, what force could not withstand,

  Turn to their evil the speeches of the man,

  With his own weapon wound Godfredo’s hand;

  Kindle debate, infect with poison wan

  The English, Switzer, and Italian band,

  Great tumult move, make brawls and quarrels rife,

  Set all the camp on uproar and at strife.

  IV

  “This act beseems thee well, and of the deed

  Much may’st thou boast before our lord and king.”

  Thus said the sprite. Persuasion small did need,

  The monster grants to undertake the thing.

  Meanwhile the knight, whose coming thus they dread,

  Before the camp his weary limbs doth bring,

  And well-nigh breathless, “Warriors bold,” he cried,

  “Who shall conduct me to your famous guide?”

  V

  An hundred strove the stranger’s guide to be,

  To hearken news the knights by heaps assemble,

  The man fell lowly down upon his knee,

  And kissed the hand that made proud Babel tremble;

  “Right puissant lord, whose valiant acts,” quoth he,

  “The sands and stars in number best resemble,

  Would God some gladder news I might unfold,”

  And there he paused, and sighed; then thus he told:

  VI

  “Sweno, the King of Denmark’s only heir,

  The stay and staff of his declining eild,

  Longed to be among these squadrons fair

  Who for Christ’s faith here serve with spear and shield;

  No weariness, no storms of sea or air,

  No such contents as crowns and sceptres yield,

  No dear entreaties of so kind a sire,

  Could in his bosom quench that glorious fire.

  VII

  “He thirsted sore to
learn this warlike art

  Of thee, great lord and master of the same;

  And was ashamed in his noble heart,

  That never act he did deserved fame;

  Besides, the news and tidings from each part

  Of young Rinaldo’s worth and praises came:

  But that which most his courage stirred hath,

  Is zeal, religion, godliness, and faith.

  VIII

  “He hasted forward, then without delay,

  And with him took of knights a chosen band,

  Directly toward Thrace we took the way,

  To Byzance old, chief fortress of that land,

  There the Greek monarch gently prayed him stay,

  And there an herald sent from you we fand,

  How Antioch was won, who first declared,

  And how defended nobly afterward.

  IX

  “Defended gainst Corbana, valiant knight,

  That all the Persian armies had to guide,

  And brought so many soldiers bold to fight,

  That void of men he left that kingdom wide;

  He told thine acts, thy wisdom and thy might,

  And told the deeds of many a lord beside,

  His speech at length to young Rinaldo passed,

  And told his great achievements, first and last:

  X

  “And how this noble camp of yours, of late

  Besieged had this town, and in what sort,

  And how you prayed him to participate

  Of the last conquest of this noble fort.

  In hardy Sweno opened was the gate

  Of worthy anger by this brave report,

  So that each hour seemed five years long,

  Till he were fighting with these Pagans strong.

  XI

  “And while the herald told your fights and frays,

  Himself of cowardice reproved he thought,

  And him to stay that counsels him, or prays,

  He hears not, or, else heard, regardeth naught,

  He fears no perils but whilst he delays,

  Lest this last work without his help be wrought:

  In this his doubt, in this his danger lies,

  No hazard else he fears, no peril spies.

  XII

  “Thus hasting on, he hasted on his death,

  Death that to him and us was fatal guide.

  The rising morn appeared yet aneath,

  When he and we were armed, and fit to ride,

  The nearest way seemed best, o’er hold and heath

  We went, through deserts waste, and forests wide,

  The streets and ways he openeth as he goes,

  And sets each land free from intruding foes.

  XIII

  “Now want of food, now dangerous ways we find,

  Now open war, now ambush closely laid;

  Yet passed we forth, all perils left behind,

  Our foes or dead or run away afraid,

  Of victory so happy blew the wind,

  That careless all the heedless to it made:

  Until one day his tents he happed to rear,

  To Palestine when we approached near.

  XIV

  “There did our scouts return and bring us news,

  That dreadful noise of horse and arms they hear,

  And that they deemed by sundry signs and shows

  There was some mighty host of Pagans near.

  At these sad tidings many changed their hues,

  Some looked pale for dread, some shook for fear,

  Only our noble lord was altered naught,

  In look, in face, in gesture, or in thought.

  XV

  “But said, ‘A crown prepare you to possess

  Of martyrdom, or happy victory;

  For this I hope, for that I wish no less,

  Of greater merit and of greater glory.

  Brethren, this camp will shortly be, I guess,

  A temple, sacred to our memory,

  To which the holy men of future age,

  To view our graves shall come in pilgrimage.’

  XVI

  “This said, he set the watch in order right

  To guard the camp, along the trenches deep,

  And as he armed was, so every knight

  He willed on his back his arms to keep.

  Now had the stillness of the quiet night

  Drowned all the world in silence and in sleep,

  When suddenly we heard a dreadful sound,

  Which deafed the earth, and tremble made the ground.

  XVII

  “‘Arm, arm,’ they cried; Prince Sweno at the same,

  Glistering in shining steel leaped foremost out,

  His visage shone, his noble looks did flame,

  With kindled brand of courage bold and stout,

  When lo, the Pagans to assault us came,

  And with huge numbers hemmed us round about,

  A forest thick of spears about us grew,

  And over us a cloud of arrows flew:

  XVIII

  “Uneven the fight, unequal was the fray,

  Our enemies were twenty men to one,

  On every side the slain and wounded lay

  Unseen, where naught but glistering weapons shone:

  The number of the dead could no man say,

  So was the place with darkness overgone,

  The night her mantle black upon its spreads,

  Hiding our losses and our valiant deeds.

  XIX

  “But hardy Sweno midst the other train,

  By his great acts was well descried I wot,

  No darkness could his valor’s daylight stain,

  Such wondrous blows on every side he smote;

  A stream of blood, a bank of bodies slain,

  About him made a bulwark, and a mote,

  And when soe’er he turned his fatal brand,

  Dread in his looks and death sate in his hand.

  XX

  “Thus fought we till the morning bright appeared,

  And strewed roses on the azure sky,

  But when her lamp had night’s thick darkness cleared,

  Wherein the bodies dead did buried lie,

  Then our sad cries to heaven for grief we reared,

  Our loss apparent was, for we descry

  How all our camp destroyed was almost,

  And all our people well-nigh slain and lost;

  XXI

  “Of thousands twain an hundred scant survived.

  When Sweno murdered saw each valiant knight,

  I know not if his heart in sunder rived

  For dear compassion of that woful sight;

  He showed no change, but said: ‘Since so deprived

  We are of all our friends by chance of fight,

  Come follow them, the path to heaven their blood

  Marks out, now angels made, of martyrs good.’

  XXII

  “This said, and glad I think of death at hand,

  The signs of heavenly joy shone through his eyes,

  Of Saracens against a mighty band,

  With fearless heart and constant breast he flies;

  No steel could shield them from his cutting brand

  But whom he hits without recure he dies,

  He never struck but felled or killed his foe

  And wounded was himself from top to toe.

  XXIII

  “Not strength, but courage now, preserved on live

  This hardy champion, fortress of our faith,

  Strucken he strikes, still stronger more they strive,

  The more they hurt him, more he doth them scathe,

  When toward him a furious knight gan drive,

  Of members huge, fierce looks, and full of wrath,

  That with the aid of many a Pagan crew,

  After long fight, at last Prince Sweno slew.

  XXIV

  “Ah, heavy chance! Down fell the valiant youth,

  Nor mongst u
s all did one so strong appear

  As to revenge his death: that this is truth,

  By his dear blood and noble bones I swear,

  That of my life I had not care nor ruth,

  No wounds I shunned, no blows I would off bear,

  And had not Heaven my wished end denied,

  Even there I should, and willing should, have died.

  XXV

  “Alive I fell among my fellows slain,

  Yet wounded so that each one thought me dead,

  Nor what our foes did since can I explain,

  So sore amazed was my heart and head;

  But when I opened first mine eyes again,

  Night’s curtain black upon the earth was spread,

  And through the darkness to my feeble sight,

  Appeared the twinkling of a slender light.

  XXVI

  “Not so much force or judgement in me lies

  As to discern things seen and not mistake,

  I saw like them who ope and shut their eyes

  By turns, now half asleep, now half awake;

  My body eke another torment tries,

  My wounds began to smart, my hurts to ache;

  For every sore each member pinched was

  With night’s sharp air, heaven’s frost and earth’s cold grass.

  XXVII

  “But still the light approached near and near,

  And with the same a whispering murmur run,

  Till at my side arrived both they were,

  When I to spread my feeble eyes begun:

  Two men behold in vestures long appear,

  With each a lamp in hand, who said, ‘O son

  In that dear Lord who helps his servants, trust,

  Who ere they ask, grants all things to the just.’

  XXVIII

  “This said, each one his sacred blessings flings

  Upon my corse, with broad our-stretched hand,

  And mumbled hymns and psalms and holy things,

  Which I could neither hear nor understand;

  ‘Arise,’ quoth they, with that as I had wings,

  All whole and sound I leaped up from the land.

  Oh miracle, sweet, gentle, strange and true!

  My limbs new strength received, and vigor new.

  XXIX

  “I gazed on them like one whose heart denieth

  To think that done, he sees so strangely wrought;

  Till one said thus, ‘O thou of little faith,

  What doubts perplex thy unbelieving thought?

  Each one of us a living body hath,

  We are Christ’s chosen servants, fear us naught,

  Who to avoid the world’s allurements vain,

  In wilful penance, hermits poor remain.

  XXX

  “‘Us messengers to comfort thee elect

  That Lord hath sent that rules both heaven and hell;

  Who often doth his blessed will effect,

  By such weak means, as wonder is to tell;