Jerusalem Delivered

by Torquato Tasso

  He will not that this body lie neglect,

  Wherein so noble soul did lately dwell

  To which again when it uprisen is

  It shall united be in lasting bliss.

  XXXI

  “‘I say Lord Sweno’s corpse, for which prepared

  A tomb there is according to his worth,

  By which his honor shall be far declared,

  And his just praises spread from south to north:”

  But lift thine eyes up to the heavens ward,

  Mark yonder light that like the sun shines forth

  That shall direct thee with those beams so clear,

  To find the body of thy master dear.’

  XXXII

  “With that I saw from Cynthia’s silver face,

  Like to a falling star a beam down slide,

  That bright as golden line marked out the place,

  And lightened with clear streams the forest wide;

  So Latmos shone when Phoebe left the chase,

  And laid her down by her Endymion’s side,

  Such was the light that well discern I could,

  His shape, his wounds, his face, though dead, yet bold.

  XXXIII

  “He lay not grovelling now, but as a knight

  That ever had to heavenly things desire,

  So toward heaven the prince lay bolt upright,

  Like him that upward still sought to aspire,

  His right hand closed held his weapon bright,

  Ready to strike and execute his ire,

  His left upon his breast was humbly laid,

  That men might know, that while he died he prayed.

  XXXIV

  “Whilst on his wounds with bootless tears I wept,

  That neither helped him, nor eased my care,

  One of those aged fathers to him stepped,

  And forced his hand that needless weapon spare:

  ‘This sword,’ quoth he, ‘hath yet good token kept,

  That of the Pagans’ blood he drunk his share,

  And blusheth still he could not save his lord,

  Rich, strong and sharp, was never better sword.

  XXXV

  “‘Heaven, therefore, will not, though the prince be slain,

  Who used erst to wield this precious brand

  That so brave blade unused should remain;

  But that it pass from strong to stronger hand,

  Who with like force can wield the same again,

  And longer shall in grace of fortune stand,

  And with the same shall bitter vengeance take

  On him that Sweno slew, for Sweno’s sake.

  XXXVI

  “‘Great Solyman killed Sweno, Solyman

  For Sweno’s sake, upon this sword must die.

  Here, take the blade, and with it haste thee than

  Thither where Godfrey doth encamped lie,

  And fear not thou that any shall or can

  Or stop thy way, or lead thy steps awry;

  For He that doth thee on this message send,

  Thee with His hand shall guide, keep and defend.

  XXXVII

  “‘Arrived there it is His blessed will,

  With true report that thou declare and tell

  The zeal, the strength, the courage and the skill

  In thy beloved lord that late did dwell,

  How for Christ’s sake he came his blood to spill,

  And sample left to all of doing well,

  That future ages may admire his deed,

  And courage take when his brave end they read.

  XXXVIII

  “‘It resteth now, thou know that gentle knight

  That of this sword shall be thy master’s heir,

  It is Rinaldo young, with whom in might

  And martial skill no champion may compare,

  Give it to him and say, “The Heavens bright

  Of this revenge to him commit the care.”

  While thus I listened what this old man said,

  A wonder new from further speech us stayed;

  XXXIX

  “For there whereas the wounded body lay,

  A stately tomb with curious work, behold,

  And wondrous art was built out of the clay,

  Which, rising round, the carcass did enfold;

  With words engraven in the marble gray,

  The warrior’s name, his worth and praise that told,

  On which I gazing stood, and often read

  That epitaph of my dear master dead.

  XL

  “‘Among his soldiers,’ quoth the hermit, ‘here

  Must Sweno’s corpse remain in marble chest,

  While up to heaven are flown their spirits dear,

  To live in endless joy forever blest,

  His funeral thou hast with many a tear

  Accompanied, it’s now high time to rest,

  Come be my guest, until the morning ray

  Shall light the world again, then take thy way.’

  XLI

  “This said, he led me over holts and hags,

  Through thorns and bushes scant my legs I drew

  Till underneath a heap of stones and crags

  At last he brought me to a secret mew;

  Among the bears, wild boars, the wolves and stags,

  There dwelt he safe with his disciple true,

  And feared no treason, force, nor hurt at all,

  His guiltless conscience was his castle’s wall.

  XLII

  “My supper roots; my bed was moss and leaves;

  But weariness in little rest found ease:

  But when the purple morning night bereaves

  Of late usurped rule on lands and seas,

  His loathed couch each wakeful hermit leaves,

  To pray rose they, and I, for so they please,

  I congee took when ended was the same,

  And hitherward, as they advised me, came.”

  XLIII

  The Dane his woful tale had done, when thus

  The good Prince Godfrey answered him, “Sir knight,

  Thou bringest tidings sad and dolorous,

  For which our heavy camp laments of right,

  Since so brave troops and so dear friends to us,

  One hour hath spent, in one unlucky fight;

  And so appeared hath thy master stout,

  As lightning doth, now kindled, now quenched out.

  XLIV

  “But such a death and end exceedeth all

  The conquests vain of realms, or spoils of gold,

  Nor aged Rome’s proud stately capital,

  Did ever triumph yet like theirs behold;

  They sit in heaven on thrones celestial,

  Crowned with glory, for their conquest bold,

  Where each his hurts I think to other shows,

  And glories in those bloody wounds and blows.

  XLV

  “But thou who hast part of thy race to run,

  With haps and hazards of this world ytost,

  rejoice, for those high honors they have won,

  Which cannot be by chance or fortune crossed:

  But for thou askest for Bertoldo’s son,

  Know, that he wandereth, banished from this host,

  And till of him new tidings some man tell,

  Within this camp I deem it best thou dwell.”

  XLVI

  These words of theirs in many a soul renewed

  The sweet remembrance of fair Sophia’s child,

  Some with salt tears for him their cheeks bedewed,

  Lest evil betide him mongst the Pagans wild,

  And every one his valiant prowess showed,

  And of his battles stories long compiled,

  Telling the Dane his acts and conquests past,

  Which made his ears amazed, his heart aghast.

  XLVII

  Now when remembrance of the youth had wrought

  A tender pity in each softened mind,

/>   Behold returned home with all they caught

  The bands that were to forage late assigned,

  And with them in abundance great they brought

  Both flocks and herds of every sort and kind.

  And corn, although not much, and hay to feed

  Their noble steeds and coursers when they need.

  XLVIII

  They also brought of misadventure sad

  Tokens and signs, seemed too apparent true,

  Rinaldo’s armor, frushed and hacked they had,

  Oft pierced through, with blood besmeared new;

  About the camp, for always rumors bad

  Are farthest spread, these woful tidings flew.

  Thither assembled straight both high and low,

  Longing to see what they were loth to know.

  XLIX

  His heavy hauberk was both seen and known,

  And his brand shield, wherein displayed flies

  The bird that proves her chickens for her own

  By looking gainst the sun with open eyes;

  That shield was to the Pagans often shown,

  In many a hard and hardy enterprise,

  But now with many a gash and many a stroke

  They see, and sigh to see it, frushed and broke.

  L

  While all his soldiers whispered under hand,

  And here and there the fault and cause do lay,

  Godfrey before him called Aliprand

  Captain of those that brought of late this prey,

  A man who did on points of virtue stand,

  Blameless in words, and true whate’er he say,

  “Say,” quoth the duke, “where you this armor had,

  Hide not the truth, but tell it good or bad.”

  LI

  He answered him, “As far from hence think I

  As on two days a speedy post well rideth,

  To Gaza-ward a little plain doth lie,

  Itself among the steepy hills which hideth,

  Through it slow falling from the mountains high,

  A rolling brook twixt bush and bramble glideth,

  Clad with thick shade of boughs of broad-leaved treen,

  Fit place for men to lie in wait unseen.

  LII

  “Thither, to seek some flocks or herds, we went

  Perchance close hid under the green-wood shaw,

  And found the springing grass with blood besprent,

  A warrior tumbled in his blood we saw,

  His arms though dusty, bloody, hacked and rent,

  Yet well we knew, when near the corse we draw;

  To which, to view his face, in vain I started,

  For from his body his fair head was parted;

  LIII

  “His right hand wanted eke, with many a wound

  The trunk through pierced was from back to breast,

  A little by, his empty helm we found

  The silver eagle shining on his crest;

  To spy at whom to ask we gazed round,

  A churl then toward us his steps addressed,

  But when us armed by the corse he spied,

  He ran away his fearful face to hide:

  LIV

  “But we pursued him, took him, spake him fair,

  Till comforted at last he answer made,

  How that, the day before, he saw repair

  A band of soldiers from that forest shade,

  Of whom one carried by the golden hair

  A head but late cut off with murdering blade,

  The face was fair and young, and on the chin

  No sign of heard to bud did yet begin.

  LV

  “And how in sindal wrapt away he bore

  That head with him hung at his saddle-bow.

  And how the murtherers by the arms they wore,

  For soldiers of our camp he well did know;

  The carcass I disarmed and weeping sore,

  Because I guessed who should that harness owe,

  Away I brought it, but first order gave,

  That noble body should be laid in grave.

  LVI

  “But if it be his trunk whom I believe,

  A nobler tomb his worth deserveth well.”

  This said, good Aliprando took his leave,

  Of certain troth he had no more to tell,

  Sore sighed the duke, so did these news him grieve,

  Fears in his heart, doubts in his bosom dwell,

  He yearned to know, to find and learn the truth,

  And punish would them that had slain the youth.

  LVII

  But now the night dispread her lazy wings

  O’er the broad fields of heaven’s bright wilderness,

  Sleep, the soul’s rest, and ease of careful things,

  Buried in happy peace both more and less,

  Thou Argillan alone, whom sorrow stings,

  Still wakest, musing on great deeds I guess,

  Nor sufferest in thy watchful eyes to creep

  The sweet repose of mild and gentle sleep.

  LVIII

  This man was strong of limb, and all his ‘says

  Were bold, of ready tongue, and working sprite,

  Near Trento born, bred up in brawls and frays,

  In jars, in quarrels, and in civil fight,

  For which exiled, the hills and public ways

  He filled with blood, and robberies day and night

  Until to Asia’s wars at last he came,

  And boldly there he served, and purchased fame.

  LIX

  He closed his eyes at last when day drew near.

  Yet slept he not, but senseless lay opprest

  With strange amazedness and sudden fear

  Which false Alecto breathed in his breast,

  His working powers within deluded were,

  Stone still he quiet lay, yet took no rest,

  For to his thought the fiend herself presented,

  And with strange visions his weak brain tormented.

  LX

  A murdered body huge beside him stood,

  Of head and right hand both but lately spoiled,

  His left hand bore the head, whose visage good,

  Both pale and wan, with dust and gore defoiled,

  Yet spake, though dead, with whose sad words the blood

  Forth at his lips in huge abundance boiled,

  “Fly, Argillan, from this false camp fly far,

  Whose guide, a traitor; captains, murderers are.

  LXI

  “Godfrey hath murdered me by treason vile,

  What favor then hope you my trusty friends?

  His villain heart is full of fraud and guile,

  To your destruction all his thoughts he bends,

  Yet if thou thirst of praise for noble stile,

  If in thy strength thou trust, thy strength that ends

  All hard assays, fly not, first with his blood

  Appease my ghost wandering by Lethe flood;

  LXII

  “I will thy weapon whet, inflame thine ire,

  Arm thy right hand, and strengthen every part.”

  This said; even while she spake she did inspire

  With fury, rage, and wrath his troubled heart:

  The man awaked, and from his eyes like fire

  The poisoned sparks of headstrong madness start,

  And armed as he was, forth is he gone,

  And gathered all the Italian bands in one.

  LXIII

  He gathered them where lay the arms that late

  Were good Rinaldo’s; then with semblance stout

  And furious words his fore-conceived hate

  In bitter speeches thus he vomits out;

  “Is not this people barbarous and ingrate,

  In whom truth finds no place, faith takes no rout?

  Whose thirst unquenched is of blood and gold,

  Whom no yoke boweth, bridle none can hold.

  LXIV

  “So much we s
uffered have these seven years long,

  Under this servile and unworthy yoke,

  That thorough Rome and Italy our wrong

  A thousand years hereafter shall be spoke:

  I count not how Cilicia’s kingdom strong,

  Subdued was by Prince Tancredi’s stroke,

  Nor how false Baldwin him that land bereaves

  Of virtue’s harvest, fraud there reaped the sheaves:

  LXV

  “Nor speak I how each hour, at every need,

  Quick, ready, resolute at all assays,

  With fire and sword we hasted forth with speed,

  And bore the brunt of all their fights and frays;

  But when we had performed and done the deed,

  At ease and leisure they divide the preys,

  We reaped naught but travel for our toil,

  Theirs was the praise, the realms, the gold, the spoil.

  LXVI

  “Yet all this season were we willing blind,

  Offended unrevenged, wronged but unwroken,

  Light griefs could not provoke our quiet mind,

  But now, alas! the mortal blow is stroken,

  Rinaldo have they slain, and law of kind,

  Of arms, of nations, and of high heaven broken,

  Why doth not heaven kill them with fire and thunder?

  To swallow them why cleaves not earth asunder?

  LXVII

  “They have Rinaldo slain, the sword and shield

  Of Christ’s true faith, and unrevenged he lies;

  Still unrevenged lieth in the field

  His noble corpse to feed the crows and pies:

  Who murdered him? who shall us certain yield?

  Who sees not that, although he wanted eyes?

  Who knows not how the Italian chivalry

  Proud Godfrey and false Baldwin both envy

  LXVIII

  “What need we further proof? Heaven, heaven, I swear,

  Will not consent herein we be beguiled,

  This night I saw his murdered sprite appear,

  Pale, sad and wan, with wounds and blood defiled,

  A spectacle full both of grief and fear;

  Godfrey, for murdering him, the ghost reviled.

  I saw it was no dream, before mine eyes,

  Howe’er I look, still, still methinks it flies.

  LXIX

  “What shall we do? shall we be governed still

  By this false hand, contaminate with blood?

  Or else depart and travel forth, until

  To Euphrates we come, that sacred flood,

  Where dwells a people void of martial skill,

  Whose cities rich, whose land is fat and good,

  Where kingdoms great we may at ease provide,

  Far from these Frenchmen’s malice, from their pride;

  LXX

  “Then let us go, and no revengement take

  For this brave knight, though it lie in our power:

  No, no, that courage rather newly wake,

  Which never sleeps in fear and dread one hour,