‘What! hast no words or welcome for thy dear
And faithful friend? nor Hugo recognise?’
VI
Prince Godfred answered him: ‘That new aspect,
Which, like a sun, miraculously burns,
Has so diverted my dazed intellect
From its old ken, that slowly it returns.
Thrice, then, his arms around his neck he cast,
Transported by affection and esteem,
And thrice the spirit, vainly circled, passed
Like unsubstantial air, or subtile dream.
VII
He smiled and said: ‘Not, as thou deem’st, do I
An earthly robe of fleshy fabric wear;
An immaterial form thou dost descry,
And blissful tenant of the heavenly sphere.
This is God’s temple, here his knights abide,
And here thou, too, shalt come, O cavalier.’
‘When will that be? These mortal bonds,’ he cried,
‘Loose, if they hinder my remaining here.’
VIII
‘Soon shalt thou be accepted,’ Hugo said,
‘To share the fame of the triumphant; yet,
Ere that occur, ’tis fated thou must shed,
Down on you plain below, much blood and sweat:
Thou must the empire of the Holy Land
Wrest from the Pagan first, and then ordain
A Christian kingdom, where, with puissant hand,
Thy younger brother may hereafter reign.
IX
‘But that more vivified be thy desires
For love of heavenly things, more close behold
These lucid mansions and these living fires,
By mind eternal quickened and controlled;
The seraph notes of syren minstrels hear,
Hear their celestial lyres’ immortal strains.’
Then said, and pointed to earth’s distant sphere,
‘Look down and see what yonder globe contains.
X
‘How mean, how abject, are the causes there,
That prompt man’s valour and his actions guide!
And what scant compass, and what deserts bare,
Confine his puny and ignoble pride!
It as an isle the circling sea surrounds,
And ill doth your vast ocean correspond
With the high title of those wordy sounds;
’Tis but a wretched marsh, a stagnant pond.’
XI
As thus the spirit spoke, the cavalier
Looked down and smiled, as if in scorn to see,
Dwarfed to a point, the land and sea, that here
Preserve their individuality;
Astonished how to shadows and to smoke
Perverse mortality affix their eyes,
Seeking mute fame and servile power, nor look
To God, who calls — who bids them to the skies.
XII
Whence he: ‘ Since yet it pleaseth not thy God
Me from this earthly prison to set free,
I pray thee show the path that may be trod
Most safely in this labyrinth by me.’
‘That,’ replied Hugo, ‘is the real way
Thou treadest now; depart not from its track:
Alone I counsel thee, without delay,
Bertoldo’s son from exile to call back.
XIII
‘Since if high Providence elected thee
Commander of this emprise, he ordained,
Of thy designs, that Prince Rinaldo be
Supreme executor: to thee He deigned
The foremost part, to him the second place;
Thou art the head, and he the camp’s right hand;
Nor could another that bold knight replace,
And ‘twere not right thou in his post shouldst stand.
XIV
‘For he alone will be allowed to hew
The wood, defended by such magic charms;
From him the camp’s desponding residue,
That seem unable to resume their arms,
Nay, much more likely to retire, will all
For new emprises have their zeal increased;
Thro’ him they’ll overcome the strengthened wall,
Thro’ him the powerful army of the East.’
XV
He ceased, and Bouillon said: ‘How dear to me
Were the return of that illustrious youth;
Thou, who dost all my thoughts most secret see,
Knowest if I love him and declare the truth.
What offers should I make? and in what lands
Should I — ah, tell me! — trace his errant flight?
Will’st thou I send entreaties or commands?
And how were that legitimate and right?’
XVI
‘The Eternal King,’ the spirit then replied,
‘Who with such favour honours thee, doth will
That they o’er whom ’tis given thee to preside,
Shall honour, reverence, and respect thee still;
But sue not thou; perhaps request from thee,
The sovran chief, derogatory were;
But yield when asked, and stoop to clemency
At the first summons of thy comrades’ prayer.
XVII
‘Guelph, whose kind heart the Almighty will inspire,
Will pray thee pardon the rash boy’s offence,
Which he gave way to from excess of ire,
That to his post of honour at the tents
He may return; and tho’ in love’s soft maze
And wanton ease, the youth now doting lies,
Doubt not he will, ere lapse of many days,
Arrive in well-timed season for the emprise.
XVIII
‘Since your sage Peter, to whom Heaven imparts
Of its dark secrets cognisance profound,
Will know to guide the messengers to parts
Where of him certain tidings will be found,
And will be shown them both the means and power
To lead him back the distant seas across;
And thus Heaven’s favour will at length restore
Thy errant comrades to the sacred Cross.
XIX
‘Conclude I now will with intelligence
That unto thee will lively pleasure bring:
His blood shall mingle with thine own, from whence
A great illustrious progeny shall spring.’
This said, he vanished like a wreath of smoke
Before the wind, or cloud before the sun:
The startling news the prince’s slumbers broke,
And did his heart with joy and stupor stun.
XX
At this he opened his bewildered eyes,
And seeing the day had some time risen, sprung
From off his couch, and, making haste to rise,
Upon his wearied limbs his armour flung.
To him soon afterwards the leaders went,
Since they were aye accustomed to repair
And meet for council in the captain’s tent,
Where all was planned that was performed elsewhere.
XXI
Here generous Guelpho, as the novel plan
Worked in his Heaven-inspired, magnanimous mind,
First of all those that sat around, began,
Saying to Godfred: ‘Prince most just and kind,
I come to ask for pardon, which, ’tis true,
Is pardon for a crime of recent date;
Whence the demand, perhaps, for which I sue
May seem ill-timed and too precipitate.
XXII
‘But when I think the pardon we require
Is for Rinaldo, from the pious chief,
And that myself, who ask the favour, sire,
Am no mean intercessor, my belief
Is that, with ease, I shall this grace obtain,
A boon to all productive of great goo
d.
Let him return, and, to wipe out this stain,
Shed for the common weal his precious blood.
XXIII
‘Who but himself, with strength and zeal replete,
Dare fell the forest that has cowed the rest?
Who death encounter, and its dangers meet
With more intrepid and determined breast?
You’ll see him barriers prostrate, ramparts shake,
Mount the breach singly foremost of us all.
Him to the camp restore, for Jesus’ sake;
Our cherished idol, our high hope recall.
XXIV
‘To me a nephew, to thyself restore
An agent prompt to fend and to attack;
Ah, let him sleep in vile repose no more,
But to himself his former fame give back;
Ah, let him follow thy victorious arm,
And let the world the noble stripling see
Achievements worthy of himself perform,
In admiration, peerless chief, of thee.
XXV
Thus he entreated, and the others rent
The air with shouts Rinaldo to restore.
Whence Godfred said, as if his mind was bent
On things not thought of or conceived before:
‘How were it possible, where all unite
As with one voice, my pardon to refuse?
Let rigour yield, and that be law and right
Which the desire expressed by all doth choose.
XXVI
‘Let him return, but from henceforward rein
With tighter bridle his impetuous ire,
And the great hopes conceived of him sustain
By deeds that may respond to our desire.
Him to recall, O Guelpho, be thy care;
Nor do I think he’ll loiter o’er the ground:
Choose, then, an envoy, and direct him where
Thou deem’st the froward stripling may be found.’
XXVII
Ceasing, the Danish warrior rose and said:
‘To be the chosen envoy I demand;
Nor path so long, so doubtful do I dread,
To place the honoured sabre in his hand.’
His offer greatly pleased Prince Guelph, for he
Had heart and hand no trials ever bent.
He wills him one, and that the other be
Ubaldo — cautious, crafty, provident:
XXVIII
For he had sought and seen in youthful prime
Variety of manners and of lands,
In journeying from the most inclement clime
Of this our world to Ethiop’s burning sands;
And, like one buying knowledge for himself,
Had learned their language, usages, and rites;
In riper years was then received by Guelph,
And dearest deemed of his companion knights.
XXIX
On such a pair the honoured duty falls
The knight to summon from his lone retreat;
And Guelph directed them to those far walls
In which Boëmondo has his royal seat;
Since from report, and general credence too,
They deemed the illustrious paladin was there:
But Peter, who the wrong directions knew,
Cut short their talk, and, with commanding air,
XXX
‘Sir knights, pursuing the report,’ he cried,
‘Of common lying rumour, ye pursue
A rash, deceitful, and insidious guide,
That will mislead you from the proper clue.
Haste ye to Ascalon’s adjacent shores,
Where a stream enters the deep oceans brine;
There ye will meet with a great friend of ours;
Him trust — his sentiments are one with mine,
XXXI
‘Much has he seen himself, much heard from me,
Of your foreseen adventurous emprise;
Long since I made it known to him, and he,
I know, is kind and courteous as he is wise.’
Thus spake the sage; nor Carlo questioned more,
Nor did his brother envoy hesitate,
But promptly both obeyed those words, whose lore
Heaven was itself accustomed to dictate.
XXXII
They then took leave; and zeal so spurred them on,
That off they started, and began to make,
Quick as they could, their way to Ascalon,
Upon whose coast the adjacent billows break;
Nor had they heard as yet the hollow roar
Announce the presence of the sounding main,
When they a river reached whose waters tore
Madly along, and were so swollen by rain,
XXXIII
That ev’n its bed could not contain the flood,
Which with more fleetness than an arrow ran.
While thus perplexed they were, before them stood
A worthy venerable-looking man,
With beech leaves crowned, and clad in simple suit,
Woven of snowy flax. He shook a rod,
And ‘gainst the current with unmoistened foot
Securely on the unyielding water trod.
XXXIV
As near the pole in distant northern lands,
When winter’s frosts the flowing streams congeal,
Upon the Rhine the village girls in bands
Whisk o’er the surface with reliant heel;
Thus on the soft unstable soil did he
Of those not hard or frozen waters tread,
And soon arrived where the knights fixedly
Their eyes on him had bent, to whom he said:
XXXV
‘A toilsome, hard inquiry ye pursue,
And in great need of other guidance stand;
Since, friends, the knight ye seek is far from you
In heathen and inhospitable lands.
Much — oh, how much! — remains to gain this end:
What seas to cross! what vast extent of shores!
For, know, your search is destined to extend
Beyond the confines of this world of ours.
XXXVI
‘But enter, àn ye please, my hidden cave,
And I will you my secret dwelling show,
Where matters ye shall hear of import grave,
And what is requisite ye both should know.’
He ceased, and bade the yielding lymph give place,
Which straight retired and hung on either side,
Like a curved mountain beetling o’er its base,
And thus a pathway to the knights supplied.
XXXVII
Taking them by the hand, he led each knight
Down to the lowest depths beneath the stream,
Where faintly glimmered an unsteady light,
Like that in woods, ere full is Cynthia’s beam;
Pregnant with water, spacious caves they spied,
Whence rise those teeming veins that thro’ the land
Leap into fountains, into rivers glide,
In marshes stagnate, or in lakes expand.
XXXVIII
They saw the springs of Danube and the Po,
Whence Ganges and Hydaspes take their course,
Whence Tanais and swift Euphrates flow,
Nor hid the Nile its dark mysterious source.
Still deeper they another river found,
That living sulphur and quicksilver rolled,
Which by the sun were purified, and bound
In solid piles of silver and of gold.
XXXIX
The margin starred with many a precious stone,
Along that teeming river they beheld;
Whence, as if lit with myriad flambeaux, shone
The spot, and was the horrid gloom dispelled.
There sparkled, with heaven’s blue cerulean light,
Celestial sapphire and the jacinth; there
Glowe
d the carbuncle, blazed the diamond bright,
And emeralds smiled, the fairest of the fair.
XL
Still on, bewildered, the two warriors went,
With thoughts so rapt with what they had descried,
That both were speechless from astonishment;
At length Ubaldo thus addressed their guide:
‘Tell us, O father, where we are, and where
Thou leadest us; say who and what thou art.
Do I dream or fancy? What these marvels are
I know not; stupor so confounds my heart.’
XLI
‘Ye,’ he replied, ‘are in the spacious womb
Of mother Earth, that all things doth create;
Nor can ye more into her bowels’ gloom,
Without my aid and guidance, penetrate.
I lead you to my palace home, a place
Which soon ye’ll see illumed with wondrous lights;
A Pagan I was born, but thro’ God’s grace
Was made regenerate by baptismal rites.
XLII
‘Yet think not I by aid of imps of hell
Perform the miracles ye gaze upon;
Nay, God forbid I should use sign or spell
To force Cocytus or dark Phlegethon:
But to their inmost springs I scrutinise
The latent virtues of each herb, each source;
I study Nature’s unknown mysteries,
And watch the stars in their erratic course;
XLIII
‘For, know, not always far from heaven’s bright zone,
Live I in gloomy subterranean cell,
But oft, on Carmel and Mount Lebanon,
In most aerial habitation dwell;
There Mars and Venus their true nature show
To me, unveiled in every turn and phase;
I see the others roll, now swift, now slow,.
If threatening or benignant be their rays.
XLIV
‘And ‘neath my feet mark clouds now dense, now rare,
Now black, now painted by the heavenly bow;
Behold how dews and rains created are,
And how the rushing winds transversely blow;
How lightnings kindle, and when hurled from high,
Their path how tortuous; and at length began,
Beholding stars and other fires so nigh,
Myself to view as something more than man.
XLV
‘Yes, so o’erweening grew my pride, that I
Deemed my extensive knowledge was the true
Unerring gage of what the Deity,
The great Creator of the world, could do;
But when your Peter had bedewed my hair,
Washed my polluted soul in Jordan’s stream,
My thoughts exalted, and made me aware
How dark, how blind was my presumptuous dream;
XLVI
‘Then, then I knew, like owlet in the sun
Is man’s poor mind before eternal Truth;
I smiled at all the follies I had done,
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