Nel dì seguente il cavalier poteo,
Di riverenza pieno e di pietate,
760 Visitò le sepolte ossa onorate.
XCV
With sacred burning lamps in order long
And mournful pomp the corpse was brought to ground
Her arms upon a leafless pine were hung,
The hearse, with cypress; arms, with laurel crowned:
Next day the prince, whose love and courage strong
Drew forth his limbs, weak, feeble, and unsound,
To visit went, with care and reverence meet,
The buried ashes of his mistress sweet:
XCV
Illumed by torches in extended line,
With noble pomp her body was conveyed;
Her arms suspended from a branchless pine,
In form of trophied emblems, were displayed.
But when the still enfeebled cavalier
His limbs could raise upon the following day,
With ruth and reverence filled, he went to where,
Interred, her loved and honoured relics lay.
XCVI.
Giunto alla tomba ove al suo spirto vivo
Dolorosa prigione il Ciel prescrisse;
Pallido, freddo, muto, e quasi privo
764 Di movimento, al marmo gli occhj affisse.
Alfin sgorgando un lagrimoso rivo,
In un languido oimè proruppe, e disse:
O sasso amato ed onorato tanto
768 Che dentro hai le mie fiamme, e fuori il pianto:
XCVI
Before her new-made tomb at last arrived,
The woful prison of his living sprite,
Pale, cold, sad, comfortless, of sense deprived,
Upon the marble gray he fixed his sight,
Two streams of tears were from his eyes derived:
Thus with a sad “Alas!” began the knight,
“O marble dear on my dear mistress placed!
My flames within, without my tears thou hast.
XCVI
And having reached the loved, the fatal tomb,
Where his own living soul imprisoned lies,
Cold, faltering, mute, with look of deepest gloom,
On the dull stone he riveted his eyes.
Bursting at length into a flood of tears,
He faintly sighed, then feebly faltered out:
‘Oh, stone, which this my loving heart reveres,
That hast my flame within, my tears without.
XCVII.
Non di morte sei tu, ma di vivaci
Ceneri albergo, ove è riposto Amore:
E ben sento io da te le usate faci
772 Men dolci si, ma non men calde al core.
Deh prendi i miei sospiri, e questi baci
Prendi ch’io bagno di doglioso umore:
E dagli tu, poich’io non posso, almeno
776 Alle amate reliquie ch’hai nel seno.
XCVII
“Not of dead bones art thou the mournful grave,
But of quick love the fortress and the hold,
Still in my heart thy wonted brands I have
More bitter far, alas! but not more cold;
Receive these sighs, these kisses sweet receive,
In liquid drops of melting tears enrolled,
And give them to that body pure and chaste,
Which in thy bosom cold entombed thou hast.
XCVII
‘Not Death thou dost in thy cold clasp conceal,
But quick warm ashes, where lies buried Love;
In thee too well my wonted fires I feel,
Which, if less sweet, not less impassioned prove.
Ah, take these sighs, and these my kisses take!
Thus drowned in tears, they will my grief attest,
And since I cannot, give them for my sake
To the loved relics that within thee rest
XCVIII.
Dagli lor tu: chè se mai gli occhj gira
L’anima bella alle sue belle spoglie;
Tua pietate e mio ardir non avrà in ira,
780 Chè odio o sdegno là su non si raccoglie.
Perdona ella il mio fallo: e sol respira
In questa speme il cor fra tante doglie.
Sa ch’empia è sol la mano: e non l’è noja,
784 Che s’amando lei, vissi; amando moja.
XCVIII
“For if her happy soul her eye doth bend
On that sweet body which it lately dressed,
My love, thy pity cannot her offend,
Anger and wrath is not in angels blessed,
She pardon will the trespass of her friend,
That hope relieves me with these griefs oppressed,
This hand she knows hath only sinned, not I,
Who living loved her, and for love now die:
XCVIII
‘Give them; for if her lovely spirit e’er
Upon her lovely relics cast her eyes,
No anger ‘gainst my boldness she will bear,
Since hate and anger dwell not in the skies.
In the sole thought she did my crime condone,
My heart still beats amid such misery;
She knows that guilty was my hand alone,
Nor grieves if loving her I lived — so die!
XCIX.
Ed amando morrò: felice giorno,
Quando che sia; ma più felice molto,
Se come errando or vado a te d’intorno,
788 Allor sarò dentro al tuo grembo accolto.
Faccian l’anime amiche in Ciel soggiorno;
Sia l’un cenere e l’altro in un sepolto:
Ciò che ‘l viver non ebbe, abbia la morte.
792 Oh (se sperar ciò lice) altera sorte!
XCIX
“And loving will I die, oh happy day
Whene’er it chanceth! but oh far more blessed
If as about thy polished sides I stray,
My bones within thy hollow grave might rest,
Together should in heaven our spirits stay,
Together should our bodies lie in chest;
So happy death should join what life doth sever,
O Death, O Life! sweet both, both blessed ever.”
XCIX
‘Yes, loving her, I’ll die. Ah, happy day,
Whene’er it come; but happier, happier far,
If, as now round thee loitering, I may,
Within thy womb, lie side by side with her.
In heaven may our united souls abide;
May our frail ashes share the self-same tomb,
And death possess what was to life denied:
Ah, could I hope for this, how blest my doom!’
C.
Confusamente si bisbiglia intanto
Del caso reo nella rinchiusa terra.
Poi s’accerta e divulga: e in ogni canto
796 Della Città smarrita il romor erra
Misto di gridi, e di femmineo pianto:
Non altramente che se presa in guerra
Tutta ruini: e ‘l foco, e i nemici empj
800 Volino per le case, e per i tempj.
C
Meanwhile the news in that besieged town
Of this mishap was whispered here and there,
Forthwith it spread, and for too true was known,
Her woful loss was talked everywhere,
Mingled with cries and plaints to heaven upthrown,
As if the city’s self new taken were
With conquering foes, or as if flame and fire,
Nor house, nor church, nor street had left entire.
C
Meanwhile of her untimely fate and fall
Confused reports and busy whispers rise,
Till they gain certainty, and spread; thro’ all
The affrighted town the unwelcome rumour flies,
Mingled with women’s wail and shrieks of ire,
As tho’ by storm Jerusalem were ta’en,
And the fierce foe laid waste wi
th sword and fire
Each hallowed dwelling and each holy fane.
CI.
Ma tutti gli occhj Arsete in se rivolve,
Miserabil di gemito e d’aspetto.
Ei, come gli altri, in lagrime non solve
804 Il duol, che troppo è d’indurato affetto;
Ma i bianchi crini suoi d’immonda polve
Si sparge e brutta, e fiede il volto e ‘l petto.
Or mentre in lui volte le turbe sono,
808 Va in mezzo Argante, e parla in cotal suono:
CI
But all men’s eyes were on Arsetes bent,
His sighs were deep, his looks full of despair,
Out of his woful eyes no tear there went,
His heart was hardened with his too much care,
His silver locks with dust he foul besprent,
He knocked his breast, his face he rent and tare,
And while the press flocked to the eunuch old,
Thus to the people spake Argantes bold:
CI
But on Arsete, whose sad face appears
The picture of despair, are turned all eyes;
He like the rest did not dissolve in tears
Grief, which in him too indurated is.
But with foul dust begrimed his silver hair,
And beat distractedly his face and breast;
Now while on him the assembled people stare,
Forth stepped Arganté, and the crowd addressed:
CII.
Ben volev’io, quando primier m’accorsi
Che fuor si rimanea la donna forte,
Seguirla immantinente, e ratto corsi
812 Per correr seco una medesma sorte.
Chè non feci, e non dissi? o quai non porsi
Preghiere al Re chè fesse aprir le porte?
Ei me, pregante e contendente invano,
816 Con l’imperio affrenò che ha quì sovrano.
CII
“I would, when first I knew the hardy maid
Excluded was among her Christian foes,
Have followed her to give her timely aid,
Or by her side this breath and life to lose,
What did I not, or what left I unsaid
To make the king the gates again unclose?
But he denied, his power did aye restrain
My will, my suit was waste, my speech was vain:
CII
‘Much did I wish to follow the bold maid,
Soon as I knew that she remained outside,
And ran at once to offer every aid,
Nor from her destiny my own divide.
Where did I fail in act or speech? I prayed
The king to unbar the portal; but in vain;
No reason moved, no warm entreaty swayed,
Him who doth all with power despotic rein.
CIII.
Ahi che s’io allora usciva, o dal periglio
Quì ricondotta la guerriera avrei,
O chiusi, ov’ella il terren fè vermiglio,
820 Con memorabil fine i giorni miei.
Ma che poteva io più? Parve al consiglio
Degli uomini altramente, e degli Dei.
Ella morì di fatal morte, ed io
824 Quant’or conviensi a me già non oblio.
CIII
“Ah, had I gone, I would from danger free
Have brought to Sion that sweet nymph again,
Or in the bloody fight, where killed was she,
In her defence there nobly have been slain:
But what could I do more? the counsels be
Of God and man gainst my designments plain,
Dead is Clorinda fair, laid in cold grave,
Let me revenge her whom I could not save.
CII
‘Ah, had I then gone forth, I either would
The warrior maid have rescued from her foes,
Or, where the earth was crimsoned with her blood,
Life ended by a memorable close.
But what, alas! could I do more? — what try?
Against my counsel man and God were set;
Clorinda’s death predestined was; but I
Can ne’er what to her memory’s due forget.
CIV.
Odi, Gerusalem, ciò che prometta
Argante: odil tu Cielo: e se in ciò manco,
Fulmina sul mio capo: io la vendetta
828 Giuro di far, nell’omicida Franco,
Che per la costei morte a me s’aspetta:
Nè questa spada mai depor dal fianco,
Insin ch’ella a Tancredi il cor non passi,
832 E ‘l cadavero infame ai corvi lassi.
CIV
“Jerusalem, hear what Argantes saith,
Hear Heaven, and if he break his oath and word,
Upon this head cast thunder in thy wrath:
I will destroy and kill that Christian lord
Who this fair dame by night thus murdered hath,
Nor from my side I will ungird this sword
Till Tancred’s heart it cleave, and shed his blood,
And leave his corpse to wolves and crows for food.”
CIV
‘Hear, Salem, what Arganté doth declare!
Hear it, O Heaven, and if I fail, do thou
Blast me with lightning! I deep vengeance swear
‘Gainst the Frank murderer; nay, more, I vow,
Ne’er from my settled purpose to depart,
Nor e’er this falchion from my hip depose
Till I have plunged it in Tancredi’s heart,
And flung his felon carcass to the crows.’
CV.
Così disse egli: e l’aure popolari
Con applauso seguir le voci estreme.
E immaginando sol, temprò gli amari
836 L’aspettata vendetta in quel che geme.
O vani giuramenti! Ecco contrarj
Seguir tosto gli effetti all’alta speme:
E cader questi, in tenzon pari, estinto
840 Sotto colui ch’ei fa già preso e vinto.
CV
This said, the people with a joyful shout
Applaud his speeches and his words approve,
And calmed their grief in hope the boaster stout
Would kill the prince, who late had slain his love.
O promise vain! it otherwise fell out:
Men purpose, but high gods dispose above,
For underneath his sword this boaster died
Whom thus he scorned and threatened in his pride.
CV
Thus spoke Arganté; his concluding words
The assembled crowd saluted with applause;
For in their grief his vowed revenge affords
Hope that his sabre will avenge her cause.
Vain, idle oaths! how opposite in all,
To vaunt so lofty, the result will be;
Since in like combat will he ‘neath him fall,
O’er whom he boasts in fancied victory.
Canto tredicesimo
THIRTEENTH BOOK
ARGOMENTO.
A custodir la selva Ismeno caccia
Gli empj Demonj; e questi in strani mostri
Conversi, sol l’aspetto lor discaccia
Quei che van per tagliar gli ombrosi chiostri.
Vavvi Tancredi con sicura faccia;
Ma pietà il tien che ‘l suo valor non mostri.
Il campo, cui soverchia arsura offende,
Copiosa pioggia vigoroso rende.
THE ARGUMENT.
The wicked sprites, whose ugly shapes affray
And put to flight the men, whose labor would
To their dark shades let in heaven’s golden ray:
Thither goes Tancred hardy, faithful, bold,
But foolish pity lets him not assay
His strength and courage: heat the Christian power
Annoys, whom to refresh God sends a shower.
I.
Ma cade appena in cenere l’immensa
/>
Machina espugnatrice delle mura;
Che in se novi argomenti Ismen ripensa
4 Perchè più resti la Città sicura:
Onde ai Franchi impedir ciò che dispensa
Lor di materia il bosco egli procura:
Tal che, contra Sion battuta e scossa,
8 Torre nova rifarsi indi non possa.
I
But scant, dissolved into ashes cold,
The smoking tower fell on the scorched grass,
When new device found out the enchanter old
By which the town besieged secured was,
Of timber fit his foes deprive he would,
Such terror bred that late consumed mass:
So that the strength of Sion’s walls to shake,
They should no turrets, rams, nor engines make.
I
SCARCE had the wall-breaching immense machine
In ashes fallen, than in his subtle breast
New projects were concerted by Ismene,
Whereby the town might more securely rest,
By which prevent he might the attacking power
From getting fresh material from the wood;
So that they could not make another tower,
Nor more molest the battered city could.
II.
Sorge non lunge alle Cristiane tende
Tra solitarie valli alta foresta,
Foltissima di piante antiche orrende
12 Che spargon d’ogn’intorno ombra funesta.
Quì nell’ora che ‘l Sol più chiaro splende,
È luce incerta e scolorita e mesta;
Quale in nubilo Ciel dubbia si vede,
16 Se ‘l dì alla notte, o s’ella a lui succede.
II
From Godfrey’s camp a grove a little way
Amid the valleys deep grows out of sight,
Thick with old trees whose horrid arms display
An ugly shade, like everlasting night;
There when the sun spreads forth his clearest ray,
Dim, thick, uncertain, gloomy seems the light;
As when in evening, day and darkness strive
Which should his foe from our horizon drive.
II
At no great distance from the Christian tents,
‘Twixt lonely vales, a lofty wood is found,
Most thick with antique horrid timber, whence
Are cast unwholesome shadows all around;
Here, when the sun shines brightest from oh high,
Uncertain, dull, and colourless the light;
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