Jerusalem Delivered

by Torquato Tasso

  I scorn, and punish will thy foolish pride:”

  As a hot brand flames most ere it forth go’th,

  And dying blazeth bright on every side;

  So he, when blood was lost, with anger wroth,

  Revived his courage when his puissance died,

  And would his latest hour which now drew nigh,

  Illustrate with his end, and nobly die.

  XXIII

  He joined his left hand to her sister strong,

  And with them both let fall his weighty blade.

  Tancred to ward his blow his sword up slung,

  But that it smote aside, nor there it stayed,

  But from his shoulder to his side along

  It glanced, and many wounds at once it made:

  Yet Tancred feared naught, for in his heart

  Found coward dread no place, fear had no part.

  XXIV

  His fearful blow he doubled, but he spent

  His force in waste, and all his strength in vain;

  For Tancred from the blow against him bent,

  Leaped aside, the stroke fell on the plain.

  With thine own weight o’erthrown to earth thou went,

  Argantes stout, nor could’st thyself sustain,

  Thyself thou threwest down, O happy man,

  Upon whose fall none boast or triumph can!

  XXV

  His gaping wounds the fall set open wide,

  The streams of blood about him made a lake,

  Helped with his left hand, on one knee he tried

  To rear himself, and new defence to make:

  The courteous prince stepped back, and “Yield thee!” cried,

  No hurt he proffered him, no blow he strake.

  Meanwhile by stealth the Pagan false him gave

  A sudden wound, threatening with speeches brave:

  XXVI

  Herewith Tancredi furious grew, and said,

  “Villain, dost thou my mercy so despise?”

  Therewith he thrust and thrust again his blade,

  And through his ventil pierced his dazzled eyes,

  Argantes died, yet no complaint he made,

  But as he furious lived he careless dies;

  Bold, proud, disdainful, fierce and void of fear

  His motions last, last looks, last speeches were.

  XXVII

  Tancred put up his sword, and praises glad

  Gave to his God that saved him in this fight;

  But yet this bloody conquest feebled had

  So much the conqueror’s force, strength and might,

  That through the way he feared which homeward led

  He had not strength enough to walk upright;

  Yet as he could his steps from thence he bent,

  And foot by foot a heavy pace forth-went;

  XXVIII

  His legs could bear him but a little stound,

  And more he hastes, more tired, less was his speed,

  On his right hand, at last, laid on the ground

  He leaned, his hand weak like a shaking reed,

  Dazzled his eyes, the world on wheels ran round,

  Day wrapped her brightness up in sable weed;

  At length he swooned, and the victor knight

  Naught differed from his conquered foe in fight.

  XXIX

  But while these lords their private fight pursue,

  Made fierce and cruel through their secret hate,

  The victor’s ire destroyed the faithless crew

  From street to street, and chased from gate to gate.

  But of the sacked town the image true

  Who can describe, or paint the woful state,

  Or with fit words this spectacle express

  Who can? or tell the city’s great distress?

  XXX

  Blood, murder, death, each street, house, church defiled,

  There heaps of slain appear, there mountains high;

  There underneath the unburied hills up-piled

  Of bodies dead, the living buried lie;

  There the sad mother with her tender child

  Doth tear her tresses loose, complain and fly,

  And there the spoiler by her amber hair

  Draws to his lust the virgin chaste and fair.

  XXXI

  But through the way that to the west-hill yood

  Whereon the old and stately temple stands,

  All soiled with gore and wet with lukewarm blood

  Rinaldo ran, and chased the Pagan bands;

  Above their heads he heaved his curtlax good,

  Life in his grace, and death lay in his hands,

  Nor helm nor target strong his blows off bears,

  Best armed there seemed he no arms that wears;

  XXXII

  For gainst his armed foes he only bends

  His force, and scorns the naked folk to wound;

  Them whom no courage arms, no arms defends,

  He chased with his looks and dreadful sound:

  Oh, who can tell how far his force extends?

  How these he scorns, threats those, lays them on ground?

  How with unequal harm, with equal fear

  Fled all, all that well armed or naked were:

  XXXIII

  Fast fled the people weak, and with the same

  A squadron strong is to the temple gone

  Which, burned and builded oft, still keeps the name

  Of the first founder, wise King Solomon;

  That prince this stately house did whilom frame

  Of cedar trees, of gold and marble stone;

  Now not so rich, yet strong and sure it was,

  With turrets high, thick walls, and doors of brass.

  XXXIV

  The knight arrived where in warklike sort

  The men that ample church had fortified.

  And closed found each wicket, gate and port,

  And on the top defences ready spied,

  He left his frowning looks, and twice that fort

  From his high top down to the groundwork eyed,

  And entrance sought, and twice with his swift foot

  The mighty place he measured about.

  XXXV

  Like as a wolf about the closed fold

  Rangeth by night his hoped prey to get,

  Enraged with hunger and with malice old

  Which kind ‘twixt him and harmless sheep hath set:

  So searched he high and low about that hold,

  Where he might enter without stop or let,

  In the great court he stayed, his foes above

  Attend the assault, and would their fortune prove.

  XXXVI

  There lay by chance a posted tree thereby,

  Kept for some needful use, whate’er it were,

  The armed galleys not so thick nor high

  Their tall and lofty masts at Genes uprear;

  This beam the knight against the gates made fly

  From his strong hands all weights which lift and bear,

  Like a light lance that tree he shook and tossed,

  And bruised the gate, the threshold and the post.

  XXXVII

  No marble stone, no metal strong outbore

  The wondrous might of that redoubled blow,

  The brazen hinges from the wall it tore,

  It broke the locks, and laid the doors down low,

  No iron ram, no engine could do more,

  Nor cannons great that thunderbolts forth throw,

  His people like a flowing stream inthrong,

  And after them entered the victor strong;

  XXXVIII

  The woful slaughter black and loathsome made

  That house, sometime the sacred house of God,

  O heavenly justice, if thou be delayed,

  On wretched sinners sharper falls thy rod!

  In them this place profaned which invade

  Thou kindled ire, and mercy all forbode,

  Until with thei
r hearts’ blood the Pagans vile

  This temple washed which they did late defile.

  XXXIX

  But Solyman this while himself fast sped

  Up to the fort which David’s tower is named,

  And with him all the soldiers left he led,

  And gainst each entrance new defences framed:

  The tyrant Aladine eke thither fled,

  To whom the Soldan thus, far off, exclaimed,

  Thyself, within this fortress safe uplock:

  XL

  “For well this fortress shall thee and thy crown

  Defend, awhile here may we safe remain.”

  “Alas!” quoth he, “alas, for this fair town,

  Which cruel war beats down even with the plain,

  My life is done, mine empire trodden down,

  I reigned, I lived, but now nor live nor reign;

  For now, alas! behold the fatal hour

  That ends our life, and ends our kingly power.”

  XLI

  “Where is your virtue, where your wisdom grave,

  And courage stout?” the angry Soldan said,

  “Let chance our kingdoms take which erst she gave,

  Yet in our hearts our kingly worth is laid;

  But come, and in this fort your person save,

  Refresh your weary limbs and strength decayed:”

  Thus counselled he, and did to safety bring

  Within that fort the weak and aged king.

  XLII

  His iron mace in both his hands he hent,

  And on his thigh his trusty sword he tied,

  And to the entrance fierce and fearless went,

  And kept the strait, and all the French defied:

  The blows were mortal which he gave or lent,

  For whom he hit he slew, else by his side

  Laid low on earth, that all fled from the place

  Where they beheld that great and dreadful mace.

  XLIII

  But old Raymondo with his hardy crew

  By chance came thither, to his great mishap;

  To that defended path the old man flew,

  And scorned his blows and him that kept the gap,

  He struck his foe, his blow no blood forth drew,

  But on the front with that he caught a rap,

  Which in a swoon, low in the dust him laid,

  Wide open, trembling, with his arms displayed.

  XLIV

  The Pagans gathered heart at last, though fear

  Their courage weak had put to flight but late,

  So that the conquerors repulsed were,

  And beaten back, else slain before the Gate:

  The Soldan, mongst the dead beside him near

  That saw Lord Raymond lie in such estate,

  Cried to his men, “Within these bars,” quoth he,

  “Come draw this knight, and let him captive be.”

  XLV

  Forward they rushed to execute his word,

  But hard and dangerous that emprise they found,

  For none of Raymond’s men forsook their lord,

  But to their guide’s defence they flocked round,

  Thence fury fights, hence pity draws the sword,

  Nor strive they for vile cause or on light ground,

  The life and freedom of that champion brave,

  Those spoil, these would preserve, those kill, these save.

  XLVI

  But yet at last if they had longer fought

  The hardy Soldan would have won the field;

  For gainst his thundering mace availed naught

  Or helm of temper fine or sevenfold shield:

  But from each side great succor now was brought

  To his weak foes, now fit to faint and yield,

  And both at once to aid and help the same

  The sovereign Duke and young Rinaldo came.

  XLVII

  As when a shepherd, raging round about

  That sees a storm with wind, hail, thunder, rain,

  When gloomy clouds have day’s bright eye put out,

  His tender flocks drives from the open plain

  To some thick grove or mountain’s shady foot,

  Where Heaven’s fierce wrath they may unhurt sustain,

  And with his hook, his whistle and his cries

  Drives forth his fleecy charge, and with them flies:

  XLVIII

  So fled the Soldan, when he gan descry

  This tempest come from angry war forthcast,

  The armor clashed and lightened gainst the sky,

  And from each side swords, weapons, fire outbrast:

  He sent his folk up to the fortress high,

  To shun the furious storm, himself stayed last,

  Yet to the danger he gave place at length,

  For wit, his courage; wisdom ruled his strength.

  XLIX

  But scant the knight was safe the gate within,

  Scant closed were the doors, when having broke

  The bars, Rinaldo doth assault begin

  Against the port, and on the wicket stroke

  His matchless might, his great desire to win,

  His oath and promise, doth his wrath provoke,

  For he had sworn, nor should his word be vain,

  To kill the man that had Prince Sweno slain.

  L

  And now his armed hand that castle great

  Would have assaulted, and had shortly won,

  Nor safe pardie the Soldan there a seat

  Had found his fatal foes’ sharp wrath to shun,

  Had not Godfredo sounded the retreat;

  For now dark shades to shroud the earth begun,

  Within the town the duke would lodge that night,

  And with the morn renew the assault and fight.

  LI

  With cheerful look thus to his folk he said,

  “High God hath holpen well his children dear,

  This work is done, the rest this night delayed

  Doth little labor bring, less doubt, no fear,

  This tower, our foe’s weak hope and latest aid,

  We conquer will, when sun shall next appear:

  Meanwhile with love and tender ruth go see

  And comfort those which hurt and wounded be;

  LII

  “Go cure their wounds which boldly ventured

  Their lives, and spilt their bloods to get this hold,

  That fitteth more this host for Christ forth led,

  Than thirst of vengeance, or desire of gold;

  Too much, ah, too much blood this day is shed!

  In some we too much haste to spoil behold,

  But I command no more you spoil and kill,

  And let a trumpet publish forth my will.”

  LIII

  This said, he went where Raymond panting lay,

  Waked from the swoon wherein he late had been.

  Nor Solyman with countenance less gay

  Bespake his troops, and kept his grief unseen;

  “My friends, you are unconquered this day,

  In spite of fortune still our hope is green,

  For underneath great shows of harm and fear,

  Our dangers small, our losses little were:

  LIV

  “Burnt are your houses, and your people slain,

  Yet safe your town is, though your walls be gone,

  For in yourselves and in your sovereign

  Consists your city, not in lime and stone;

  Your king is safe, and safe is all his train

  In this strong fort defended from their fone,

  And on this empty conquest let them boast,

  Till with this town again, their lives be lost;

  LV

  “And on their heads the loss at last will light,

  For with good fortune proud and insolent,

  In spoil and murder spend they day and night,

  In riot, drinking, lust and ravishment,

  And may amid th
eir preys with little fight

  At ease be overthrown, killed, slain and spent,

  If in this carelessness the Egyptian host

  Upon them fall, which now draws near this coast.

  LVI

  “Meanwhile the highest buildings of this town

  We may shake down with stones about their ears,

  And with our darts and spears from engines thrown,

  Command that hill Christ’s sepulchre that bears:”

  Thus comforts he their hopes and hearts cast down,

  Awakes their valors, and exiles their fears.

  But while the things hapt thus, Vafrino goes

  Unknown, amid ten thousand armed foes.

  LVII

  The sun nigh set had brought to end the day,

  When Vafrine went the Pagan host to spy,

  He passed unknown a close and secret way;

  A traveller, false, cunning, crafty, sly,

  Past Ascalon he saw the morning gray

  Step o’er the threshold of the eastern sky,

  And ere bright Titan half his course had run,

  That camp, that mighty host to show begun.

  LVIII

  Tents infinite, and standards broad he spies,

  This red, that white, that blue, this purple was,

  And hears strange tongues, and stranger harmonies

  Of trumpets, clarions, and well-sounding brass:

  The elephant there brays, the camel cries.

  The horses neigh as to and fro they pass:

  Which seen and heard, he said within his thought,

  Hither all Asia is, all Afric, brought.

  LIX

  He viewed the camp awhile, her site and seat,

  What ditch, what trench it had, what rampire strong,

  Nor close, nor secret ways to work his feat

  He longer sought, nor hid him from the throng;

  But entered through the gates, broad, royal, great,

  And oft he asked, and answered oft among,

  In questions wise, in answers short and sly;

  Bold was his look, eyes quick, front lifted high:

  LX

  On every side he pried here and there,

  And marked each way, each passage and each tent:

  The knights he notes, their steeds, and arms they bear,

  Their names, their armor, and their government;

  And greater secrets hopes to learn, and hear,

  Their hidden purpose, and their close intent:

  So long he walked and wandered, till he spied

  The way to approach the great pavilions’ side:

  LXI

  There as he looked he saw the canvas rent,

  Through which the voice found eath and open way

  From the close lodgings of the regal tent

  And inmost closet where the captain lay;

  So that if Emireno spake, forth went

  The sound to them that listen what they say,

  There Vafrine watched, and those that saw him thought