Jerusalem Delivered

by Torquato Tasso

  For thee to consummate its sacrifice.

  XXVIII.

  ‘Lo, I cast down my hands and thee present

  My breast without defence: why strike not there?

  Or shall I ease the task, I am content

  To doff my breastplate and my bosom bare.’

  Then wretched Tancred in more sad laments

  Had told perhaps the story of his woe,

  But him the arrival, most ill-timed, prevents,

  Of his own troops, and of the Pagan foe.

  XXIX.

  Charged by the Christian host the Syrians yield;

  Was it from fear or stratagem designed?

  When a barbarian scouring o’er the field

  Saw her loose tresses dangling in the wind;

  And, passing in the rear, upraised his arm

  To strike in that defenceless part the maid:

  But Tancred, who observed it, gave the alarm,

  And the great blow received upon his blade.

  XXX.

  Yet went it not in vain, but struck her where

  The lovely head springs from the snowy neck;

  Slight was the wound, still her gold-coloured hair

  Some drops of blood with crimson patches fleck.

  So flashes gold when with carbuncles set,

  It sparkles from some skilful artist’s hand.

  The infuriate prince, with many a muttered threat,

  Dashed at the wretch, and tighter grasped his brand.

  XXXI.

  Away he fled; burning with rage, the knight

  Pursued. They flew like arrows through the air:

  Perplexed she stands, and keeps both long in sight,

  Yet deigns not follow the retreating pair,

  But doth the fugitives accompany, —

  And now shows front and seeks the Franks in fight, —

  Now turns, returns, flies, makes the Christians fly,

  Nor could one say if hers were chase or flight.

  XXXII.

  Thus if the bull in spacious circus turn —

  His threatening horns against pursuing hounds,

  They quick retreat, but should he fly, return,

  And each to follow with fresh ardour bounds. —

  To guard her head, her shield Clorinda kept

  Over her shoulders, as she sought the walls:

  In Moorish games the players thus intercept,

  Thus balk the fury of the flying balls. —

  XXXIII.

  Pursuing Frank and flying Infidel

  Had nearly reached the lofty ramparts, when

  The wily Pagans raised a horrid yell,

  And of a sudden drove them back again.

  A circuit wide they made, nor turned, until

  They in reverse could strike their rear and flanks;

  Meantime, Arganté moved down from the hill,

  To charge in front their now surrounded ranks.

  XXXIV.

  The fierce Circassian dashed forth with a bound;

  Eager to give first blow he led the van,

  And him he struck he stretched upon the ground,

  And in one heap rolled over horse and man;

  And ere his lance in shivers flew, had sent

  Many to bear him company; nor ceased,

  But drew his sabre, which, when home it went,

  Aye slew, struck down, or caused some wound at least.

  XXXV.

  Clorinda, jealous of his glory, slew

  The strong Ardelio, who of years mature

  Was still untamed by age. With him were two

  Great sons: yet even he was not secure,

  Since a bad wound had from his fathers care

  Removed Alcander; and ’twas all that brave

  Young Polypherne could do, who still stood near

  (So closely pressed he was), himself to save.

  XXXVI.

  But Tancred, finding that he could not gain

  That villain mounted on a fleeter horse,

  Looked back, and saw too far upon the plain

  His gallant troop had urged their daring course:

  Saw them surrounded. Quickly turning rein,

  He pricked his steed, and galloped straightway there,

  Nor did his arm alone his friends sustain:

  Down came those ready for all risks: they were

  XXXVII.

  Dudoné’s squadron of Adventurers,

  Flower of the camp, its sinew, and its force;

  Noblest and fairest, young Rinaldo spurs

  Before them all, like lightning on his course.

  Erminia quickly knew his cognisance,

  The eagle argent on the azure field,

  And to the king, who marked his bold advance:

  ‘Behold the brave, to whom the bravest yield.

  XXXVIII.

  ‘As cavalier, he but few equals knows,

  Or none at all, and though a stripling still,

  Were there six other such amid thy foes,

  All Syria now were subject to their will:

  The realms most southward had already been

  Subdued, aye, all the orient by their force;

  And perhaps the Nile had from their power in vain

  Concealed his distant and mysterious source.

  XXXIX.

  ‘His name’s Rinaldo; the strong ramparts fear

  His angered arm more than a huge machine.

  Now turn thine eyes: behold you cavalier,

  Emblazed whose armour is with gold and green;

  That is Dudoné, by whose arm is led

  This very squadron of Adventurers;

  Of lofty lineage and experienced head,

  He most in worth transcends, and all in years.

  XL.

  ‘Seest thou that giant cased in brown? he is

  Gemando, brother of great Norway’s king;

  The world hath not a prouder soul, and this

  Alone a shade o’er his deserts doth fling.

  There are the two for ever joined in one,

  Whose arms and every ornament are white:

  Gildippé, Edward, who renown have won

  As no less leal in love than staunch in fight.’

  XLI.

  Meanwhile they saw beneath, as thus she spoke,

  How more and more the combat thickened; when

  Through the ring Tancred and Rinaldo broke,

  Though bristling it with flashing arms and men.

  Dudoné’s squadron then came thundering on,

  Cutting and thrusting, when before their eyes

  Arganté’s self, Arganté is struck down

  By young Rinaldo, and can scarcely rise.

  XLII.

  Nor had he risen, but at that moment sank

  Rinaldo’s gallant charger in the fray,

  His foot remaining ‘neath the horse’s flank,

  And struggling he to drag it thence away.

  Meanwhile, the routed Saracens repair

  To the town’s shelter, flying like the wind;

  Alone, Arganté and Clorinda were

  A mound and trench against the storm behind.

  XLIII.

  They were the last to bear the battle’s brunt,

  And stem the torrent surging in their rear,

  Which made it easy for all those in front,

  To escape the Christians that still followed near.

  Dudoné, flushed with victory, overthrew

  Tigranes by a charge of his bold horse;

  His sabre then the veteran soldier drew,

  And on the greensward stretched the headless corse.

  XLIV.

  What now avails thy corslet, Algazar?

  Corbano, what thy helmet’s steel-bound crest?

  Since through your nape and back he pierced so far,

  That the point issued at the face and breast.

  His arm expelled then from their sweet abode

  The souls of Amurath and Mahomet;


  Almansor’s too; nor e’en Arganté could

  Securely stir, so close was he beset.

  XLV.

  With frantic rage the great Circassian burned,

  Now stopped, faced round, still yielded to the Frank.

  At length so suddenly on him he turned,

  And caught him with such fury on the flank,

  That his sword’s point therein was buried deep,

  And by the blow the Christian leader slain.

  He falls: unwelcome rest and iron sleep

  Weigh down those lids that scarce can ope again.

  XLVI.

  Yet thrice he oped them, and heaven’s pleasant light

  Sought to enjoy; and thrice his body raised

  Upon his arm, thrice fell. The shades of night

  In death at last his languid eyeballs glazed;

  His limbs relax, a mortal icy chill

  Stiffens and bathes them in a dank cold sweat.

  Arganté paused not o’er the corse, but still

  Pushed on ahead with undiminished whet.

  XLVII.

  With that, although he ceased not to give way,

  Turned to the Franks he cried, ‘This blood-stained sword,

  Is the same precious gift that yesterday

  Was to myself presented by your lord;

  Tell him how I to-day have used it. He

  Such welcome news most willingly will hear;

  Nay, should rejoice that its great value be

  Established by probation so severe.

  XLVIII.

  ‘Tell him its point he may expect to see

  In his own bowels, as a proof more sure;

  And should he haste not his attack on me,

  I will the means to find him out procure,’

  The Franks, incensed at his insulting speech,

  Rushed to cut down the braggart, but with all

  The rest he fled beyond the Christians’ reach,

  ‘Neath the safe shelter of the friendly wall.

  XLIX.

  Its stout defenders then to hail began

  Such showers of stones on their advancing foes,

  And countless quivers in each barbican

  Supplied such flights of arrows to their bows,

  That the Frank troops compelled were to recede,

  And let the Pagans gain the sheltering town,

  When, his foot having from his fallen horse freed,

  In eager haste Rinaldo thundered down.

  L.

  He sought dire vengeance ‘gainst the homicide

  Who had so brutally Dudoné slain,

  And having reached his squadron, proudly cried,

  ‘What wait ye for? Why thus inert remain?

  Since dead is he who was our leader — why

  Not hasten forward to avenge his fall?

  What! with such cause for animosity,

  Blench at the barrier of a fragile wall?

  LI.

  ‘Not, if you wall impenetrable were,

  Of adamant or doubled iron made,

  Could fierce Arganté find protection there,

  Or there the vigour of your arms evade;

  On to the assault — advance! As thus he spoke,

  Before them all the youthful hero sprang;

  His fearless forehead feared no hostile stroke,

  Though showers of stones and arrows round him rang.

  LII.

  And tossing his haught head he raised his glance,

  With such portentous resolution filled,

  That even inside the walls the combatants

  Were to the heart by fright unwonted chilled.

  But while the slack he menaced, and fresh cheer

  Gave to the valiant, crippled were his hands,

  Since to him Godfred sent the good Sigier,

  Grave rigid messenger of grave commands.

  LIII.

  He in his name chid his excessive fire,

  And bade him his adventurous steps retrace.

  ‘Return,’ he cried; ‘for this display of ire

  Ill-fitting is the season and the place.

  Thus Godfred orders,’ From the strong redoubt

  Rinaldo, who had spurred the rest, withdraws,

  Although he fumed within and showed without

  How disappointed at being baulked he was.

  LIV.

  The Franks retired, nor by the Pagan force

  Or menaced or disturbed was their retreat;

  Nor was defrauded brave Dudoné’s corse

  Of its last honours, but with reverence meet,

  On sympathising arms his faithful friends

  That precious and most honoured burden bore.

  Godfred meanwhile an eminence ascends,

  The city’s site and fences to explore.

  LV.

  Upon two ridges of unequal height,(5)

  That front each other, stands Jerusalem,

  Through which there runs a narrow vale, whose site

  Divides the town in two, and severs them.

  Three sides a steep ascent the place defends,

  But on the fourth you go, nor seem to rise,

  And this plain side, which towards the north extends,

  By loftiest ramparts more defended is.

  LVI.

  Inside, the town has cisterns to amass

  The falling rain, and living springs and pools

  Outside, the country round is bare of grass,

  Nor fount nor stream the barren region cools;

  Nor trees are seen in all the neighbourhood

  A screen ‘gainst summer’s heat to interpose,

  Save where, beyond six miles, a gloomy wood

  Horrent and dark its baleful shadow throws.

  LVII.

  On that side whence the dawn’s first splendours rise,

  The blessed Jordan’s noble waters roll;

  And to the west the sandy seaboard lies

  Of the blue Mediterranean. Towards the pole

  Samaria lies, and pillared Bethel, where

  To the gold calf was raised the impious shrine;

  And where the south with vapour loads the air,

  Stands Bethlehem, hallowed by the birth Divine.

  LVIII.

  Now as Prince Godfred scanned the country round,

  The city’s site, the lofty walls, and thought

  Where for his army was best camping ground,

  And the easiest spot to storm the ramparts sought,

  Erminia saw, and to the tyrant spoke,

  Him clearly pointing with her finger: ‘There,

  That Godfred is, who in the purple cloak

  Has such a royal and majestic air.

  LIX.

  ‘He looks indeed one born to hold command,

  And as a ruler is without compeer,

  Of equal merit is his head and hand,

  As captain perfect and as cavalier;

  Nor ‘mid you host a more consummate knight

  Or sager counsellor than he is known.

  Rinaldo and Tancredi in the fight,

  In council, Raymond, equal him alone.’

  LX.

  ‘Him,’ the king answered, ‘I remember well,

  And once beheld at the great court of France

  When there as Egypt’s envoy, and can tell

  How nobly in the lists he bore his lance;

  And though lush spring had scattered not the seeds

  Of down upon his cheek, still in his mien,

  In his staid language and heroic deeds,

  Promise, e’en then, of loftiest hopes was seen.

  LXI.

  ‘Promise, alas! too true.’ His troubled eyes

  Here he cast down; then raised them up and said,

  ‘Tell me who’s he that with him almost vies,

  And wears his surcoat, too, of royal red?

  Oh, what resemblance to the prince, though he

  Somewhat in stature to the captain cedes.’

/>   ‘That’s Baldwin: truly in his looks you see

  He’s brother, but much more so by his deeds.

  LXII.

  ‘Now look at that stem cavalier who stays,

  As if adviser, on the captain’s right,

  That Raymond is, to whom I gave such praise

  For prudence, now from age’s silver white;

  To weave war’s stratagems none better knows,

  Or Frank or Latin. He still further on,

  With the gold casque upon his royal brows,

  Is William, the English king’s accomplished son.

  LXIII.

  ‘Close by stands Guelpho, his competitor

  In birth, in station, and in deeds of fame;

  Well, well I know him by those shoulders square,

  And by the expansion of that bulky frame.

  But though amid you squadrons I have tried,

  As yet I cannot my arch-foeman trace;

  I mean Boëmondo — the red homicide —

  The fell destroyer of my royal race.’

  LXIV.

  Thus these conversed: but when the country round

  Godfred had scanned, he to his troops went down,

  And since he deemed where springs the steepest ground

  That it were useless to assault the town,

  He pitched his tents with true strategic skill

  ‘Gainst the north gate, upon the adjoining plain;

  Thence ranged the others, which extended till

  The so-called Angle Tower the long lines gain.(6)

  LXV.

  The camp embraced with its vast cirque of tents

  A third part of the town. For all around,

  So great Jerusalem’s circumference,

  They were not able wholly to surround.

  But still to bar the roads Prince Godfred tries,

  By which the foe might get external aid,

  And all the likely passes occupies

  That to and from the royal city led.

  LXVI.

  Then orders them to fortify the tents

  With pallisades and deep-cut trenches. So

  Alike the townsmen’s sallies he prevents,

  And checks incursions from marauding foe;

  But when the works accomplished were, his course

  (Wishing to see the slaughtered chief) he bends

  To where surrounded lay Dudoné’s corse

  By a sad concourse of lamenting friends.

  LXVII.

  With noble pomp they, faithful, had adorned

  The imposing coffin, where sublime he lay.

  When Godfred entered, the sad mourners mourned

  More sadly, and to greater grief gave way;

  But his own feelings pious Godfred reined.

  Not calm — and yet not troubled — was his look,

  In deep reflection silent he remained,

  As for awhile he gazed on him, then spoke:

  LXVIII.

  ‘We should not weep for thee, lost friend, nor grieve,

  Who dead on earth, in heaven art born again;