Jerusalem Delivered

by Torquato Tasso

  CI

  “And he that did this chain so surely bind

  About my heart, which none can loose but he,

  Let him not say, ‘Go, wandering damsel, find

  Some other home, thou shalt not bide with me,’

  But let him welcome me with speeches kind,

  And in my wonted prison set me free:”

  Thus spake the princess, thus she and her guide

  Talked day and night, and on their journey ride.

  CII

  Through the highways Vafrino would not pass,

  A path more secret, safe and short, he knew,

  And now close by the city’s wall he was,

  When sun was set, night in the east upflew,

  With drops of blood besmeared he found the grass,

  And saw where lay a warrior murdered new,

  That all be-bled the ground, his face to skies

  He turns, and seems to threat, though dead he lies:

  CIII

  His harness and his habit both betrayed

  He was a Pagan; forward went the squire,

  And saw whereas another champion laid

  Dead on the land, all soiled with blood and mire,

  “This was some Christian knight,” Vafrino said:

  And marking well his arms and rich attire,

  He loosed his helm, and saw his visage plain,

  And cried, “Alas, here lies Tancredi slain!”

  CIV

  The woful virgin tarried, and gave heed

  To the fierce looks of that proud Saracine,

  Till that high cry, full of sad fear and dread,

  Pierced through her heart with sorrow, grief and pine,

  At Tancred’s name thither she ran with speed,

  Like one half mad, or drunk with too much wine,

  And when she saw his face, pale, bloodless, dead,

  She lighted, nay, she stumbled from her steed:

  CV

  Her springs of tears she looseth forth, and cries,

  “Hither why bring’st thou me, ah, Fortune blind?

  Where dead, for whom I lived, my comfort lies,

  Where war for peace, travail for rest I find;

  Tancred, I have thee, see thee, yet thine eyes

  Looked not upon thy love and handmaid kind,

  Undo their doors, their lids fast closed sever,

  Alas, I find thee for to lose thee ever.

  CVI

  “I never thought that to mine eyes, my dear,

  Thou couldst have grievous or unpleasant been;

  But now would blind or rather dead I were,

  That thy sad plight might be unknown, unseen!

  Alas! where is thy mirth and smiling cheer?

  Where are thine eyes’ clear beams and sparkles sheen?

  Of thy fair cheek where is the purple red,

  And forehead’s whiteness? are all gone, all dead?

  CVII

  “Though gone, though dead, I love thee still, behold;

  Death wounds, but kills not love; yet if thou live,

  Sweet soul, still in his breast, my follies bold

  Ah, pardon love’s desires, and stealths forgive;

  Grant me from his pale mouth some kisses cold,

  Since death doth love of just reward deprive;

  And of thy spoils sad death afford me this,

  Let me his mouth, pale, cold and bloodless, kiss;

  CVIII

  “O gentle mouth! with speeches kind and sweet

  Thou didst relieve my grief, my woe and pain,

  Ere my weak soul from this frail body fleet,

  Ah, comfort me with one dear kiss or twain!

  Perchance if we alive had happed to meet,

  They had been given which now are stolen, O vain,

  O feeble life, betwixt his lips out fly,

  Oh, let me kiss thee first, then let me die!

  CIX

  “Receive my yielding spirit, and with thine

  Guide it to heaven, where all true love hath place:”

  This said, she sighed, and tore her tresses fine,

  And from her eyes two streams poured on his face,

  The man revived, with those showers divine

  Awaked, and opened his lips a space;

  His lips were open; but fast shut his eyes,

  And with her sighs, one sigh from him upflies.

  CX

  The dame perceived that Tancred breathed and sighed,

  Which calmed her grief somedeal and eased her fears:

  “Unclose thine eyes,” she says, “my lord and knight,

  See my last services, my plaints and tears,

  See her that dies to see thy woful plight,

  That of thy pain her part and portion bears;

  Once look on me, small is the gift I crave,

  The last which thou canst give, or I can have.”

  CXI

  Tancred looked up, and closed his eyes again,

  Heavy and dim, and she renewed her woe.

  Quoth Vafrine, “Cure him first, and then complain,

  Medicine is life’s chief friend; plaint her most foe:”

  They plucked his armor off, and she each vein,

  Each joint, and sinew felt, and handled so,

  And searched so well each thrust, each cut and wound,

  That hope of life her love and skill soon found.

  CXII

  From weariness and loss of blood she spied

  His greatest pains and anguish most proceed,

  Naught but her veil amid those deserts wide

  She had to bind his wounds, in so great need,

  But love could other bands, though strange, provide,

  And pity wept for joy to see that deed,

  For with her amber locks cut off, each wound

  She tied: O happy man, so cured so bound!

  CXIII

  For why her veil was short and thin, those deep

  And cruel hurts to fasten, roll and blind,

  Nor salve nor simple had she, yet to keep

  Her knight on live, strong charms of wondrous kind

  She said, and from him drove that deadly sleep,

  That now his eyes he lifted, turned and twined,

  And saw his squire, and saw that courteous dame

  In habit strange, and wondered whence she came.

  CXIV

  He said, “O Vafrine, tell me, whence com’st thou?

  And who this gentle surgeon is, disclose;”

  She smiled, she sighed, she looked she wist not how,

  She wept, rejoiced, she blushed as red as rose.

  “You shall know all,” she says, “your surgeon now

  Commands you silence, rest and soft repose,

  You shall be sound, prepare my guerdon meet,”

  His head then laid she in her bosom sweet.

  CXV

  Vafrine devised this while how he might bear

  His master home, ere night obscured the land,

  When lo, a troop of soldiers did appear,

  Whom he descried to be Tancredi’s band,

  With him when he and Argant met they were;

  But when they went to combat hand for hand,

  He bade them stay behind, and they obeyed,

  But came to seek him now, so long he stayed.

  CXVI

  Besides them, many followed that enquest,

  But these alone found out the rightest way,

  Upon their friendly arms the men addressed

  A seat whereon he sat, he leaned, he lay:

  Quoth Tancred, “Shall the strong Circassian rest

  In this broad field, for wolves and crows a prey?

  Ah no, defraud not you that champion brave

  Of his just praise, of his due tomb and grave:

  CXVII

  “With his dead bones no longer war have I,

  Boldly he died and nobly was he slain,

  Then let us not that honor him deny

&nbs
p; Which after death alonely doth remain:”

  The Pagan dead they lifted up on high,

  And after Tancred bore him through the plain.

  Close by the virgin chaste did Vafrine ride,

  As he that was her squire, her guard, her guide.

  CXVIII

  “Not home,” quoth Tancred, “to my wonted tent,

  But bear me to this royal town, I pray,

  That if cut short by human accident

  I die, there I may see my latest day,

  The place where Christ upon his cross was rent

  To heaven perchance may easier make the way,

  And ere I yield to Death’s and Fortune’s rage,

  Performed shall be my vow and pilgrimage.”

  CXIX

  Thus to the city was Tancredi borne,

  And fell on sleep, laid on a bed of down.

  Vafrino where the damsel might sojourn

  A chamber got, close, secret, near his own;

  That done he came the mighty duke beforn,

  And entrance found, for till his news were known,

  Naught was concluded mongst those knights and lords,

  Their counsel hung on his report and words.

  CXX

  Where weak and weary wounded Raymond laid,

  Godfrey was set upon his couch’s side,

  And round about the man a ring was made

  Of lords and knights that filled the chamber wide;

  There while the squire his late discovery said,

  To break his talk, none answered, none replied,

  “My lord,” he said, “at your command I went

  And viewed their camp, each cabin, booth and tent;

  CXXI

  “But of that mighty host the number true

  Expect not that I can or should descry,

  All covered with their armies might you view

  The fields, the plains, the dales and mountains high,

  I saw what way soe’er they went and drew,

  They spoiled the land, drunk floods and fountains dry,

  For not whole Jordan could have given them drink,

  Nor all the grain in Syria, bread, I think.

  CXXII

  “But yet amongst them many bands are found

  Both horse and foot, of little force and might,

  That keep no order, know no trumpet’s sound,

  That draw no sword, but far off shoot and fight,

  But yet the Persian army doth abound

  With many a footman strong and hardy knight,

  So doth the King’s own troop which all is framed

  Of soldiers old, the Immortal Squadron named.

  CXXIII

  “Immortal called is that band of right,

  For of that number never wanteth one,

  But in his empty place some other knight

  Steps in, when any man is dead or gone:

  This army’s leader Emireno hight,

  Like whom in wit and strength are few or none,

  Who hath in charge in plain and pitched field,

  To fight with you, to make you fly or yield.

  CXXIV

  “And well I know their army and their host

  Within a day or two will here arrive:

  But thee Rinaldo it behoveth most

  To keep thy noble head, for which they strive,

  For all the chief in arms or courage boast

  They will the same to Queen Armida give,

  And for the same she gives herself in price,

  Such hire will many hands to work entice.

  CXXV

  “The chief of these that have thy murder sworn,

  Is Altamore, the king of Samarcand!

  Adrastus then, whose realm lies near the morn,

  A hardy giant, bold, and strong of hand,

  This king upon an elephant is borne,

  For under him no horse can stir or stand;

  The third is Tisipherne, as brave a lord

  As ever put on helm or girt on sword.”

  CXXVI

  This said, from young Rinaldo’s angry eyes,

  Flew sparks of wrath, flames in his visage shined,

  He longed to be amid those enemies,

  Nor rest nor reason in his heart could find.

  But to the Duke Vafrine his talk applies,

  “The greatest news, my lord, are yet behind,

  For all their thoughts, their crafts and counsels tend

  By treason false to bring thy life to end.”

  CXXVII

  Then all from point to point he gan expose

  The false compact, how it was made and wrought,

  The arms and ensigns feigned, poison close,

  Ormondo’s vaunt, what praise, what thank he sought,

  And what reward, and satisfied all those

  That would demand, inquire, or ask of aught.

  Silence was made awhile, when Godfrey thus, —

  “Raymondo, say, what counsel givest thou us?”

  CXXVIII

  “Not as we purposed late, next morn,” quoth he,

  “Let us not scale, but round besiege this tower,

  That those within may have no issue free

  To sally out, and hurt us with their power,

  Our camp well rested and refreshed see,

  Provided well gainst this last storm and shower,

  And then in pitched field, fight, if you will;

  If not, delay and keep this fortress still.

  CXXIX

  “But lest you be endangered, hurt, or slain,

  Of all your cares take care yourself to save,

  By you this camp doth live, doth win, doth reign,

  Who else can rule or guide these squadrons brave?

  And for the traitors shall be noted plain,

  Command your guard to change the arms they have,

  So shall their guile be known, in their own net

  So shall they fall, caught in the snare they set.”

  CXXX

  “As it hath ever,” thus the Duke begun,

  “Thy counsel shows thy wisdom and thy love,

  And what you left in doubt shall thus be done,

  We will their force in pitched battle prove;

  Closed in this wall and trench, the fight to shun,

  Doth ill this camp beseem, and worse behove,

  But we their strength and manhood will assay,

  And try, in open field and open day.

  CXXXI

  “The fame of our great conquests to sustain,

  Or bide our looks and threats, they are not able,

  And when this army is subdued and slain

  Then is our empire settled, firm and stable,

  The tower shall yield, or but resist in vain,

  For fear her anchor is, despair her cable.”

  Thus he concludes, and rolling down the west

  Fast set the stars, and called them all to rest.

  TWENTIETH BOOK

  THE ARGUMENT.

  Makes with the Christians and their faithful power;

  The Soldan longs in field to prove his might,

  With the old king quits the besieged tower;

  Yet both are slain, and in eternal night

  A famous hand gives each his fatal hour;

  Rinald appeased Armida; first the field

  The Christians win, then praise to God they yield.

  I

  The sun called up the world from idle sleep,

  And of the day ten hours were gone and past

  When the bold troop that had the tower to keep

  Espied a sudden mist, that overcast

  The earth with mirksome clouds and darkness deep,

  And saw it was the Egyptian camp at last

  Which raised the dust, for hills and valleys broad

  That host did overspread and overload.

  II

  Therewith a merry shout and joyful cry

  The Pagans reared from their bes
ieged hold;

  The cranes from Thrace with such a rumor fly,

  His hoary frost and snow when Hyems old

  Pours down, and fast to warmer regions hie,

  From the sharp winds, fierce storms and tempests cold;

  And quick, and ready this new hope and aid,

  Their hands to shoot, their tongues to threaten made.

  III

  From whence their ire, their wrath and hardy threat

  Proceeds, the French well knew, and plain espied,

  For from the walls and ports the army great

  They saw; her strength, her number, pomp, and pride,

  Swelled their breasts with valor’s noble heat;

  Battle and fight they wished, “Arm, arm!” they cried;

  The youth to give the sign of fight all prayed

  Their Duke, and were displeased because delayed

  IV

  Till morning next, for he refused to fight;

  Their haste and heat he bridled, but not brake,

  Nor yet with sudden fray or skirmish light

  Of these new foes would he vain trial make.

  “After so many wars,” he says, “good right

  It is, that one day’s rest at least you take,”

  For thus in his vain foes he cherish would

  The hope which in their strength they have and hold.

  V

  To see Aurora’s gentle beam appear,

  The soldiers armed, prest and ready lay,

  The skies were never half so fair and clear

  As in the breaking of that blessed day,

  The merry morning smiled, and seemed to wear

  Upon her silver crown sun’s golden ray,

  And without cloud heaven his redoubled light

  Bent down to see this field, this fray, this fight.

  VI

  When first he saw the daybreak show and shine,

  Godfrey his host in good array brought out,

  And to besiege the tyrant Aladine

  Raymond he left, and all the faithful rout

  That from the towns was come of Palestine

  To serve and succor their deliverer stout,

  And with them left a hardy troop beside

  Of Gascoigns strong, in arms well proved, oft tried.

  VII

  Such was Godfredo’s countenance, such his cheer,

  That from his eye sure conquest flames and streams,

  Heaven’s gracious favors in his looks appear,

  And great and goodly more than erst he seems;

  His face and forehead full of noblesse were,

  And on his cheek smiled youth’s purple beams,

  And in his gait, his grace, his acts, his eyes,

  Somewhat, far more than mortal, lives and lies.

  VIII

  He had not marched far ere he espied

  Of his proud foes the mighty host draw nigh;

  A hill at first he took and fortified

  At his left hand which stood his army by,