Jerusalem Delivered

by Torquato Tasso

  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 s
ide:

  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,