Jersusalem Delivered

by Torquato Tasso

  And net to catch frail hearts, false Cupid lays;

  There in the verdure of the arbors green,

  With your brave champion lies the wanton queen.

  "But when she haply riseth from the knight,

  And hath withdrawn her presence from the place,

  Then take a shield I have of diamonds bright,

  And hold the same before the young man's face,

  That he may glass therein his garments light,

  And wanton soft attire, and view his case,

  That with the sight shame and disdain may move

  His heart to leave that base and servile love.

  "Now resteth naught that needful is to tell,

  But that you go secure, safe, sure and bold,

  Unseen the palace may you enter well,

  And pass the dangers all I have foretold,

  For neither art, nor charm, nor magic spell,

  Can stop your passage or your steps withhold,

  Nor shall Armida, so you guarded be,

  Your coming aught foreknow or once foresee:

  "And eke as safe from that enchanted fort

  You shall return and scape unhurt away;

  But now the time doth us to rest exhort,

  And you must rise by peep of springing day."

  This said, he led them through a narrow port,

  Into a lodging fair wherein they lay,

  There glad and full of thoughts he left his guests,

  And in his wonted bed the old man rests.

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  Fifteenth Book

  THE ARGUMENT

  The well-instructed knights forsake their host,

  And come where their strange bark in harbor lay,

  And setting sail behold on Egypt's coast

  The monarch's ships and armies in array:

  Their wind and pilot good, the seas in post

  They pass, and of long journeys make short way:

  The far-sought isle they find; Armida's charms

  They scorn, they shun her sleights, despise her arms.

  THE rosy-fingered morn with gladsome ray

  Rose to her task from old Tithonus' lap

  When their grave host came where the warriors lay,

  And with him brought the shield, the rod, the map.

  "Arise," quoth he, "ere lately broken day,

  In his bright arms the round world fold or wrap,

  All what I promised, here I have them brought,

  Enough to bring Armida's charms to naught."

  They started up, and every tender limb

  In sturdy steel and stubborn plate they dight,

  Before the old man stalked, they followed him

  Through gloomy shades of sad and sable night,

  Through vaults obscure again and entries dim,

  The way they came their steps remeasured right;

  But at the flood arrived, "Farewell," quoth he,

  "Good luck your aid, your guide good fortune be."

  The flood received them in his bottom low

  And lift them up above his billows thin;

  The waters so cast up a branch or bough,

  By violence first plunged and dived therein:

  But when upon the shore the waves them throw,

  The knights for their fair guide to look begin,

  And gazing round a little bark they spied,

  Wherein a damsel sate the stern to guide.

  Upon her front her locks were curléd new,

  Her eyes were courteous, full of peace and love;

  In look a saint, an angel bright in show,

  So in her visage grace and virtue strove;

  Her robe seemed sometimes red and sometimes blue,

  And changéd still as she did stir or move;

  That look how oft man's eye beheld the same

  So oft the colors changéd, went and came.

  The feathers so, that tender, soft, and plain,

  About the dove's smooth neck close couchéd been,

  Do in one color never long remain,

  But change their hue against glimpse of Phœbus' sheen;

  And now of rubies bright a vermeil chain,

  Now make a carknet rich of emeralds green;

  Now mingle both, now alter, turn and change

  To thousand colors, rich, pure, fair, and strange.

  "Enter this boat, you happy men," she says,

  "Wherein through raging waves secure I ride,

  To which all tempest, storm, and wind obeys,

  All burdens light, benign is stream and tide:

  My lord, that rules your journeys and your ways,

  Hath sent me here, your servant and your guide."

  This said, her shallop drove she against the sand,

  And anchor cast amid the steadfast land.

  They entered in, her anchors she upwound,

  And launchéd forth to sea her pinnace flit,

  Spread to the wind her sails she broad unbound,

  And at the helm sat down to govern it,

  Swelléd the flood that all his banks he drowned

  To bear the greatest ship of burthen fit;

  Yet was her fatigue little, swift and light,

  That at his lowest ebb bear it he might.

  Swifter than thought the friendly wind forth bore

  The sliding boat upon the rolling wave,

  With curded foam and froth the billows hoar

  About the cable murmur roar and rave;

  At last they came where all his watery store

  The flood in one deep channel did engrave,

  And forth to greedy seas his streams he sent,

  And so his waves, his name, himself he spent.

  The wondrous boat scant touched the troubled main

  But all the sea still, hushed and quiet was,

  Vanished the clouds, ceaséd the wind and rain,

  The tempests threatened overblow and pass,

  A gentle breathing air made even and plain

  The azure face of heaven's smooth looking-glass,

  And heaven itself smiled from the skies above

  With a calm clearness on the earth his love.

  By Ascalon they sailéd, and forth drived,

  Toward the west their speedy course they frame,

  In sight of Gaza till the bark arrived,

  A little port when first it took that name;

  But since, by others' loss so well it thrived

  A city great and rich that it became,

  And there the shores and borders of the land

  They found as full of arméd men as sand.

  The passengers to landward turned their sight,

  And there saw pitchéd many a stately tent,

  Soldier and footman, captain, lord and knight,

  Between the shore and city, came and went:

  Huge elephants, strong camels, coursers light,

  With hornéd hoofs the sandy ways outrent,

  And in the haven many a ship and boat,

  With mighty anchors fastened, swim and float;

  Some spread their sails, some with strong oars sweep

  The waters smooth, and brush the buxom wave,

  Their breasts in sunder cleave the yielding deep,

  The broken seas for anger foam and rave,

  When thus their guide began, "Sir knights, take keep

  How all these shores are spread with squadrons brave

  And troops of hardy knights, yet on these sands

  The monarch scant hath gathered half his bands.

  "Of Egypt only these the forces are,

  And aid from other lands they here attend,

  For twixt the noon-day sun and morning star,

  All realms at his command do bow and bend;

  So that I trust we shall return from far,

  And bring our journey long to wishéd end,

  Before this king or his lieutenant shall

  These armies bring to Zion's conquered wall."
>
  While thus she said, as soaring eagles fly

  Mongst other birds securely through the air,

  And mounting up behold with wakeful eye,

  The radiant beams of old Hyperion's hair,

  Her gondola so passéd swiftly by

  Twixt ship and ship, withouten fear or care

  Who should her follow, trouble, stop or stay,

  And forth to sea made lucky speed and way.

  Themselves fornenst old Raffia's town they fand,

  A town that first to sailors doth appear

  As they from Syria pass to Egypt land:

  The sterile coasts of barren Rhinocere

  They passed, and seas where Casius hill doth stand

  That with his trees o'erspreads the waters near,

  Against whose roots breaketh the brackish wave

  Where Jove his temple, Pompey hath his grave:

  Then Damiata next, where they behold

  How to the sea his tribute Nilus pays

  By his seven mouths renowned in stories old,

  And by an hundred more ignoble ways:

  They pass the town built by the Grecian bold,

  Of him called Alexandria till our days,

  And Pharaoh's tower and isle removed of yore

  Far from the land, now joinéd to the shore:

  Both Crete and Rhodes they left by north unseen,

  And sailed along the coasts of Afric lands,

  Whose sea towns fair, but realms more inward been

  All full of monsters and of desert sands:

  With her five cities then they left Cyrene,

  Where that old temple of false Hammon stands:

  Next Ptolemais, and that sacred wood

  Whence spring the silent streams of Lethe flood.

  The greater Syrte, that sailors often cast

  In peril great of death and loss extreme,

  They compassed round about, and safely passed,

  The Cape Judeca and flood Magra's stream;

  Then Tripoli, gainst which is Malta placed,

  That low and hid, to lurk in seas doth seem:

  The little Syrte then, and Alzerbés isle,

  Where dwelt the folk that Lotos ate erewhile.

  Next Tunis on the crooked shore they spied,

  Whose bay a rock on either side defends,

  Tunis all towns in beauty, wealth and pride

  Above, as far as Libya's bounds extends;

  gainst which, from fair Sicilia's fertile side,

  His rugged front great Lilybæum bends.

  The dame there pointed out where sometime stood

  Rome's stately rival whilom, Carthage proud;

  Great Carthage low in ashes cold doth lie,

  Her ruins poor the herbs in height scant pass,

  So cities fall, so perish kingdoms high,

  Their pride and pomp lies hid in sand and grass:

  Then why should mortal man repine to die,

  Whose life, is air; breath, wind; and body, glass?

  From thence the seas next Bisert's walls they cleft,

  And far Sardinia on their right hand left.

  Numidia's mighty plains they coasted then,

  Where wandering shepherds used their flocks to feed,

  Then Bugia and Argier, the infámous den

  Of pirates false, Oran they left with speed,

  All Tingitan they swiftly overren,

  Where elephants and angry lions breed,

  Where now the realms of Fez and Maroc be,

  gainst which Granada's shores and coasts they see.

  Now are they there, where first the sea brake in

  By great Alcides' help, as stories feign,

  True may it be that where those floods begin

  It whilom was a firm and solid main

  Before the sea there through did passage win

  And parted Afric from the land of Spain,

  Abila hence, thence Calpe great upsprings,

  Such power hath time to change the face of things.

  Four times the sun had spread his morning ray

  Since first the dame launched forth her wondrous barge

  And never yet took port in creek or bay,

  But fairly forward bore the knights her charge;

  Now through the strait her jolly ship made way,

  And boldly sailed upon the ocean large;

  But if the sea in midst of earth was great,

  Oh what was this, wherein earth hath her seat?

  Now deep engulphéd in the mighty flood

  They saw not Gades, nor the mountains near,

  Fled was the land, and towns on land that stood,

  Heaven covered sea, sea seemed the heavens to bear.

  "At last, fair lady," quoth Ubaldo good,

  "That in this endless main dost guide us here,

  If ever man before here sailéd tell,

  Or other lands here be wherein men dwell."

  "Great Hercules," quoth she, "when he had quailed

  The monsters fierce in Afric and in Spain,

  And all along your coasts and countries sailed,

  Yet durst he not assay the ocean main,

  Within his pillars would he have impaled

  The overdaring wit of mankind vain,

  Till Lord Ulysses did those bounders pass,

  To see and know he so desirous was.

  "He passed those pillars, and in open wave

  Of the broad sea first his bold sails untwined,

  But yet the greedy ocean was his grave,

  Naught helpéd him his skill gainst tide and wind;

  With him all witness of his voyage brave

  Lies buried there, no truth thereof we find,

  And they whom storm hath forcéd that way since,

  Are drownéd all, or unreturned from thence:

  "So that this mighty sea is yet unsought,

  Where thousand isles and kingdoms lie unknown,

  Not void of men as some have vainly thought,

  But peopled well, and wonnéd like your own;

  The land is fertile ground, but scant well wrought,

  Air wholesome, temperate sun, grass proudly grown."

  "But," quoth Ubaldo, "dame, I pray thee teach

  Of that hid world, what be the laws and speech?"

  "As diverse be their nations," answered she,

  "Their tongues, their rites, their laws so different are;

  Some pray to beasts, some to a stone or tree,

  Some to the earth, the sun, or morning star;

  Their meats unwholesome, vile, and hateful be,

  Some eat man's flesh, and captives ta'en in war,

  And all from Calpé's mountain west that dwell,

  In faith profane, in life are rude and fell."

  "But will our gracious God," the knight replied,

  "That with his blood all sinful men hath bought,

  His truth forever and his gospel hide

  From all those lands, as yet unknown, unsought?"

  "Oh no," quoth she, "his name both far and wide

  Shall there be known, all learning thither brought,

  Nor shall these long and tedious ways forever

  Your world and theirs, their lands, your kingdoms sever.

  "The time shall come that sailors shall disdain

  To talk or argue of Alcides' street,

  And lands and seas that nameless yet remain,

  Shall well be known, their boundaries, site and seat,

  The ships encompass shall the solid main,

  As far as seas outstretch their waters great,

  And measure all the world, and with the sun

  About this earth, this globe, this compass, run.

  "A knight of Genes shall have the hardiment

  Upon this wondrous voyage first to wend,

  Nor winds nor waves, that ships in sunder rent,

  Nor seas unused, strange clime, or pool unkenned,

  Nor other peril nor astonishment
r />   That makes frail hearts of men to bow and bend,

  Within Abilas' strait shall keep and hold

  The noble spirit of this sailor bold.

  "Thy ship, Columbus, shall her canvas wing

  Spread o'er that world that yet concealéd lies,

  That scant swift fame her looks shall after bring,

  Though thousand plumes she have, and thousand eyes;

  Let her of Bacchus and Alcides sing,

  Of thee to future age let this suffice,

  That of thine acts she some forewarning give,

  Which shall in verse and noble story live."

  Thus talking, swift twixt south and west they run,

  And slicéd out twixt froth and foam their way;

  At once they saw before, the setting sun;

  Behind, the rising beam of springing day;

  And when the morn her drops and dews begun

  To scatter broad upon the flowering lay,

  Far off a hill and mountain high they spied,

  Whose top the clouds environ, clothe and hide;

  And drawing near, the hill at ease they view,

  When all the clouds were molten, fallen and fled,

  Whose top pyrámid-wise did pointed show,

  High, narrow, sharp, the sides yet more outspread,

  Thence now and then fire, flame and smoke outflew,

  As from that hill, whereunder lies in bed

  Enceladus, whence with imperious sway

  Bright fire breaks out by night, black smoke by day.

  About the hill lay other islands small,

  Where other rocks, crags, cliffs, and mountains stood,

  The Isles Fortunate these elder time did call,

  To which high Heaven they feigned so kind and good,

  And of his blessings rich so liberal,

  That without tillage earth gives corn for food,

  And grapes that swell with sweet and precious wine

  There without pruning yields the fertile vine.

  The olive fat there ever buds and flowers,

  The honey-drops from hollow oaks distil,

  The falling brook her silver streams downpours

  With gentle murmur from their native hill,

  The western blast tempereth with dews and showers

  The sunny rays, lest heat the blossoms kill,

  The fields Elysian, as fond heathen sain,

  Were there, where souls of men in bliss remain.

  To these their pilot steered, "And now," quoth she,

  "Your voyage long to end is brought well-near,

  The happy Isles of Fortune now you see,

  Of which great fame, and little truth, you hear,

  Sweet, wholesome, pleasant, fertile, fat they be,

  Yet not so rich as fame reports they were."

  This said, toward an island fresh she bore,