’Twas thus believed; and of the natives none
From that dread forest ever plucked a bough;
But Franks infringed it: ’twas the only one
That furnished their immense machines. And now
Here came the wizard, choosing the opportune
Mysterious silence of the night as best —
The very night of the same day — and soon
Had formed his circle, and weird signs impressed.
VI
With one foot bared, inside the circled space,
To mutter potent words he had begun;
Thrice to the Orient he turned round his face,
And thrice to where declines the setting sun;
Thrice shook his wand, which from the tomb profound
Could raise and animate the buried dead;
Thrice stamped his naked foot upon the ground,
And then, with cry of dreadful import, said:
VII
‘Hear! Hear, O ye, whom from the stars above
Heaven’s thundering bolts hurled headlong down below;
And ye inhabitants of air, that move
The raging whirlwind and the tempest strow;
And ye that to lost spirits minister
Eternal torments, never-ending thrall.
Inmates of hell, I summon you; appear!
And upon thee, their sovran lord, I call.
VIII
‘Take in your charge this forest, and control,
As, numbered, I deliver them, each tree;
And as within the body dwells the soul,
So let their trunks your habitations be;
That the Franks hence may fly, or stop at least
At the first blow, afraid your wrath to meet,’
The horrid imprecations, ere he ceased,
None but an impious tongue would dare repeat.
IX
At that the stars, with which fair Night adorns
Her spangled canopy, their lustre paled;
The moon grew troubled, and withdrew her horns
Beneath dark clouds, and kept her splendour veiled.
Enraged, he ‘gan his cries reiterate:
‘What! spirits summoned, not obey my will?
Whence this delay? why pause? Perhaps ye wait
For spell more powerful, or more secret still?
X
‘I have not yet forgotten, from disuse,
My cruel art’s most efficacious aid;
Still, still my tongue is able to produce
That dreadful sound which Pluto is afraid,
Ev’n on his burning throne, to disobey,
And which all hell doth with attention treat.
I will — I will’.... More he was going to say,
But found the incantation was complete.
XI
Thither flocked spirits countless, infinite;
Partly of those that through the welkin roam,
Partly of those that to the realms of light
Had from the earth’s obscure abysses come;
Slowly, still trembling at the laws severe,
That hindered them from bearing arms, but these
Forbade them not the power of coming here,
‘Mid leaves to lie, and harbour in the trees.
XII
As nought was wanting to complete his part,
O’erjoyed, the wizard sought the king’s retreat.
‘Cast all thy thoughts aside; cheer up thy heart,
Since now secure, sire, is thy royal seat;
Nor can the Christians, as they fondly deem,
Renew their engines to assault our gates.’
Thus having spoke, he, one by one, to him
The prosperous issue of his art relates.
XIII
Adding: ‘Besides this great success of mine,
I have another reason for delight:
Know then that in celestial Leo’s sign
Soon will the Sun with fiery Mars unite;
Whose flames no cooling zephyr will assuage,
No gentle dews, nor showers of grateful rain,
Since all prognostics in the heavens presage
Excessive drought throughout Judaea’s plain.
XIV
‘Whence we shall have such heats as ne’er oppress
Sahara’s deserts or parched Ind’s champaigns;
Still in the city we shall feel them less,
Since water and such comforts it contains.
But on the adust, and far from pleasant soil,
The Franks will them be unable to endure,
And, first by Heaven o’ercome, an easy spoil
In their spent ranks the Egyptians will secure.
XV
‘Thou, sitting still, shalt triumph o’er thy foes,
Nor were it wise to tempt thy fortune more;
But if Arganté, who brooks no repose,
And, tho’ well earned, despise it as of yore,
And urge thee with his importunities,
Thou must find means his ardour to restrain;
Since peace to thee will give the friendly skies,
And deadly warfare with thy foes maintain.’
XVI
On hearing this, the king felt quite assured
That he no longer need the foeman fear;
And tho’ in parts the ramparts were secured,
Where the rams struck with impulse most severe,
Still with all that, incessant was his care
To make them good where battered by their blows;
Employing all, both slaves and freedmen there;
The busy work with toil unceasing glows.
XVII
Meanwhile the chief, who knew ’twas useless, willed
From fresh attack on Salem-to abstain,
Until he could the greater tower rebuild,
And the other engines were complete again;
So to the wood artificers he sent,
Material for such purpose to select.
At dawn of day they to the forest went,
But terrors new their onward progress checked.
XVIII
As simple children dare not raise their sight
To where they deem strange shapes may present be,
Or, as they tremble in the shadowy night,
Fancying they prodigies and monsters see;
So feared the Franks, not knowing, as they gazed,
The cause that such unusual fright imparts,
If ’twas not fear, which greater monsters raised
Than Sphinxes or Chimaeras in their hearts.
XIX
Back they return, and, timid and dismayed,
Both words and things confuse so, that received
With laughter was the terror they betrayed,
Nor were the marvellous effects believed.
Thither, at this, the zealous captain sent
A strong detachment of selected hands
No escort the rest, and give encouragement
To them to execute his high commands.
XX
These drawing nigh to where, in ambuscade,
‘Mid those wild horrors the foul demons lay,
No sooner saw the black, funereal shade,
Than turned to ice their very hearts. Still they
Pushed boldly forward, veiling abject fear
Beneath the mask of an audacious face,
And had advanced, so that they now were near
The dreaded entrance of the enchanted place,
XXI
When, from the wood, there issued forth a sound,
That seemed like rumbling of an earthquake’s shocks:
From it the south wind’s whistling blasts redound,
And wail of billows moaning amid rocks;
The hiss of dragon, and the growl of bear,
Wolf’s howl and lion’s roar, the senses stun;
The rattling thunder and the trump you hear,
Yet all these noises were e
xpressed by one.
XXII
Then grew the cheek of every Christian pale,
And all betrayed a thousand marks of fright;
Nor reason could, nor discipline prevail,
To urge them forward, or restrain their flight,
Since all endeavours scant and powerless were,
‘Gainst the dread influence that appalled each breast.
At last they fled; and one, with awe-struck air,
The fact excusing, thus the chief addressed:
XXIII
‘Not one there is, O prince! that longer vaunts
To fell you wood; it guarded is so well,
That I believe, nay swear, within those plants
Pluto transplanted has the realms of hell.
Thrice must his heart with adamant be bound,
Who dares regard it with unblenching eyes;
And dead his sense, who listens to the sound
Of those dread noises and unearthly cries.’
XXIV
Such was his tale. ‘Mong those that chance brought there,
Alcasto was, a man, as rumour saith,
Who, of a fierce and stupid rashness, ne’er
Quailed before mortal, and made light of death:
Nor monster feared, how dread soe’er its form,
Nor savage beast, the wildest of the plains;
Not earthquake, lightning, nor terrific storm,
Nor aught more furious that the world contains.
XXV
In scorn he tossed his head, and smiling stood,
Then said: ‘Where he dares not, to go I vaunt.
Alone, I intend to fell this frightful wood,
Which has of troubled dreams become the haunt.
Not direst phantom shall prevent me — no!
Nor bird’s ill-omened screech, nor forest’s yell;
Thro’ those terrific alleys I will go,
Aye, tho’ they led me to the jaws of hell’
XXVI
Thus boasted to the prince, and, undeterred,
Took leave of him, and to the forest went;
Nor had he scarcely seen it, when he heard
That strange new sound from its recesses sent.
But his bold footsteps it arrested not;
He still advanced, contemptuous and composed,
And would have passed the interdicted spot,
But that by flames he was, or seemed, opposed.
XXVII
The mighty fire increases; in the form
Of lofty walls the lurid flames extend,
Girdling the forest with its fiery arm,
The trees from all intruders to defend.
The greater flames, aspiring upwards, wear
The shape of lordly castellated halls;
And warlike engines were not wanting there,
To guard this new-made Pandemonium’s walls.
XXVIII
Oh, what dread monsters there appeared to guard
The lofty towers! how terrible their look!
Some grimly eyed him, some his passage barred
With flaming arms, which they in menace shook.
At last he fled, but still his flight was slow,
Like that of lion wounded in the chase;
But still, ’twas flight! Fear froze his bosom now,
Until that moment an unknown disgrace.
XXIX
Nor yet was conscious of his fear, but saw.
When further on, the intolerable truth,
Indignant and dismayed, while ‘gan to gnaw
His heart remorse with its envenomed tooth.
Confounded, thence he slunk amid the crowd,
Burning, yet mute from bitter shame; nor dared
Raise up those features, formerly so proud,
To meet his peers’ reproachful, cold regard.
XXX
By Godfred summoned, he delays, and seeks
Excuse still further to prolong delay;
Still goes, but slowly, with closed lips, or speaks
As in their sleep unconscious dreamers may.
From his strange diffidence the chief concludes
Defeat and flight, and thus astonished, cries:
‘What means all this? is’t witchcraft that deludes,
Or Nature’s portents that appal the eyes?
XXXI
‘But if there’s one, the promptings of whose heart
To pierce the depths of that wild forest burn,
Let him essay the adventure and depart,
And with at least more certain news return.’
He ceased. The horrors of the haunted wood
Attempted were, on the three following days,
By the most famed, nor was there one that could
Withstand its menace and terrific blaze.
XXXII
Meanwhile, Tancredi had dejected gone
‘ To bury his dear friend; and tho’ his air
Despondent was, and his face pale and wan,
And he ill-fitted casque or mail to bear,
Yet when the need his noble nature found,
He nor the perils nor fatigues refused;
And with that vigour seemed his frame to abound,
Which in it had the quickening heart infused.
XXXIII
Collected, silent, circumspect, the knight
Advanced, undaunted, to the risks unknown,
And bore unflinching the wood’s fearful sight,
The earthquake’s rumbling, and the thunder’s tone.
Nor felt alarm; and if within his heart
One flutter rose, it did as soon go down.
Forward he strode, when, lo! with sudden start,
Before him rose the fire-encircled town.
XXXIV
Aghast at this Tancredi backward draws:
‘Of what use here are weapons?’ he exclaims;
‘What! fling myself into those monsters’ jaws,
Or in the throat of you devouring flames?
Miser of life no knight should ever be,
When aught demands it for the common good;
But still not lavish it unworthily,
As in attempt so desperate he would.
XXXV
‘Still if I fly, what will the army say?
What other forest can they hope to fell?
Godfred will never leave without essay
This pass. Perhaps, if I proceed, this hell
Of lurid fire I see, and curling smoke,
Is more in semblance than reality.
But come the worst!’ As thus the hero spoke,
He leaped within — O matchless gallantry
XXXVI
Nor ‘neath his armour seemed to feel whate’er
Of heat or fervour, as from fire intense;
Still if true flames, or phantoms false they were,
Ill could decide so soon his doubtful sense;
For, scarcely touched, the phantasm disappeared,
And a thick cloud the face of heaven o’erspread,
That night and winter brought; then shortly cleared
The shades away, and gloomy winter fled.
XXXVII
Astonished — yes! but firm Tancredi stood:
Then, seeing that quiet reigned on every side,
He boldly entered the unhallowed wood,
And all its secrets with attention eyed.
No more those strange appearances he sees,
Nor did he hindrance or prevention find,
Save where the gloomy and entangled trees
His steps retarded and his view confined.
XXXVIII
At length a spacious area he espied,
In form of amphitheatre; all bare
Of trees it was, save in the midst, where vied,
With lofty pyramids, a cypress; there
He bent his course, and saw, as he perused,
That the trunk different curious ciphers bore,
Like those ant
ique, mysterious Egypt used
In place of writing in the days of yore.
XXXIX
Amid those unknown signs some words appeared,
Inscribed in Syrian, which he understood.
‘O thou, that in these aisles of death hast dared
Thy impious foot, bold warrior, to intrude,
If thou be not as pitiless as brave,
Upon these secret haunts, ah, lightly tread!
Our spirits, sleeping in the lightless grave,
Respect; the living war not with the dead.’
XL
Thus ran the inscription. While he sought to find
Of these few words the occult, mysterious sense,
He heard in ceaseless blasts the rising wind
Howl through the branches of the wood, and thence
Draw forth a sound that in itself expressed
The plaintive wail of human sobs and sighs,
Instilling vague sensations in his breast
Of pity, terror, sorrow, and surprise.
XLI
With all his force, then, having drawn his sword,
He struck the tree, when, wonderful! the wound
Of the pierced bark such streams of blood outpoured,
That dyed in crimson was the earth around.
Tho’ startled greatly, he renewed the blow,
To see the end now most determined grown,
When there burst forth, as from the tomb, a low,
An indistinct, and melancholy moan.
XLII
‘To wrong me, Tancred, thou’st too much contrived,
Let that suffice;’ it then distinctly said:
‘Since from the frame which with and thro’ me lived
(Erst happy home!) thou hast my spirit sped:
Why seek this wretched cypress to destroy,
To which hard fate imites me? Why behave
With so much cruelty as thus annoy
Thy foes, when sleeping in the silent grave?
XLIII
‘I was Clorinda; nor the only sprite
Am I that in this rugged timber dwell,
Since every other Frank or Pagan knight,
Who at the foot of Sion’s ramparts fell,
Is here by new and strange enchantment bound
In tomb or body — which I can’t aver:
Sense animates the trees, and shouldst thou wound
A single one, thou art a murderer.’
XLIV
As sickly patient that in fevered dreams
Flame-girt Chimæra or grim Dragon sees;
And, though he doubts the fact, and partly deems
Them idle phantoms, not realities,
Yet tries to flee, the horrid picture leaves
Upon his heart such terror and dismay:
Thus tho’ the timid lover scarce believes
The false deceits, he trembled and gave way.
XLV
O’ercome by such emotion was his heart,
That turned to stone appeared the cavalier,
Who in the sudden and convulsive start
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