Jerusalem Delivered

by Torquato Tasso

  The beaten Christians run away full light,

  The Pagans, mingled with the flying rout,

  Entered their camp, and filled, as they stood,

  Their tents with ruin, slaughter, death and blood.

  XXV

  High on the Soldan’s helm enamelled laid

  An hideous dragon, armed with many a scale,

  With iron paws, and leathern wings displayed,

  Which twisted on a knot her forked tail,

  With triple tongue it seemed she hissed and brayed,

  About her jaws the froth and venom trail,

  And as he stirred, and as his foes him hit,

  So flames to cast and fire she seemed to spit.

  XXVI

  With this strange light, the Soldan fierce appeared

  Dreadful to those that round about him been,

  As to poor sailors, when huge storms are reared,

  With lightning flash the rafting seas are seen;

  Some fled away, because his strength they feared,

  Some bolder gainst him bent their weapons keen,

  And forward night, in evils and mischiefs pleased,

  Their dangers hid, and dangers still increased.

  XXVII

  Among the rest that strove to merit praise,

  Was old Latinus, born by Tiber’s bank,

  To whose stout heart in fights and bloody frays,

  For all his eild, base fear yet never sank;

  Five sons he had, the comforts of his days,

  That from his side in no adventure shrank,

  But long before their time, in iron strong

  They clad their members, tender, soft and young.

  XXVIII

  The bold ensample of their father’s might

  Their weapons whetted and their wrath increased,

  “Come let us go,” quoth he, “where yonder knight

  Upon our soldiers makes his bloody feast,

  Let not their slaughter once your hearts affright,

  Where danger most appears, there fear it least,

  For honor dwells in hard attempts, my sons,

  And greatest praise, in greatest peril, wons.”

  XXIX

  Her tender brood the forest’s savage queen,

  Ere on their crests their rugged manes appear,

  Before their mouths by nature armed been,

  Or paws have strength a silly lamb to tear,

  So leadeth forth to prey, and makes them keen,

  And learns by her ensample naught to fear

  The hunter, in those desert woods that takes

  The lesser beasts whereon his feast he makes.

  XXX

  The noble father and his hardy crew

  Fierce Solyman on every side invade,

  At once all six upon the Soldan flew,

  With lances sharp, and strong encounters made,

  His broken spear the eldest boy down threw,

  And boldly, over-boldly, drew his blade,

  Wherewith he strove, but strove therewith in vain,

  The Pagan’s steed, unmarked, to have slain.

  XXXI

  But as a mountain or a cape of land

  Assailed with storms and seas on every side,

  Doth unremoved, steadfast, still withstand

  Storm, thunder, lightning, tempest, wind, and tide:

  The Soldan so withstood Latinus’ band,

  And unremoved did all their justs abide,

  And of that hapless youth, who hurt his steed,

  Down to the chin he cleft in twain the head.

  XXXII

  Kind Aramante, who saw his brother slain,

  To hold him up stretched forth his friendly arm,

  Oh foolish kindness, and oh pity vain,

  To add our proper loss, to other’s harm!

  The prince let fall his sword, and cut in twain

  About his brother twined, the child’s weak arm.

  Down from their saddles both together slide,

  Together mourned they, and together died.

  XXXIII

  That done, Sabino’s lance with nimble force

  He cut in twain, and ‘gainst the stripling bold

  He spurred his steed, that underneath his horse

  The hardy infant tumbled on the mould,

  Whose soul, out squeezed from his bruised corpse,

  With ugly painfulness forsook her hold,

  And deeply mourned that of so sweet a cage

  She left the bliss, and joys of youthful age.

  XXXIV

  But Picus yet and Lawrence were on live,

  Whom at one birth their mother fair brought out,

  A pair whose likeness made the parents strive

  Oft which was which, and joyed in their doubt:

  But what their birth did undistinguished give,

  The Soldan’s rage made known, for Picus stout

  Headless at one huge blow he laid in dust,

  And through the breast his gentle brother thrust.

  XXXV

  Their father, but no father now, alas!

  When all his noble sons at once were slain,

  In their five deaths so often murdered was,

  I know not how his life could him sustain,

  Except his heart were forged of steel or brass,

  Yet still he lived, pardie, he saw not plain

  Their dying looks, although their deaths he knows,

  It is some ease not to behold our woes.

  XXXVI

  He wept not, for the night her curtain spread

  Between his cause of weeping and his eyes,

  But still he mourned and on sharp vengeance fed,

  And thinks he conquers, if revenged he dies;

  He thirsts the Soldan’s heathenish blood to shed,

  And yet his own at less than naught doth prize,

  Nor can he tell whether he liefer would,

  Or die himself, or kill the Pagan bold.

  XXXVII

  At last, “Is this right hand,” quoth he, “so weak,

  That thou disdain’st gainst me to use thy might?

  Can it naught do? can this tongue nothing speak

  That may provoke thine ire, thy wrath and spite?”

  With that he struck, his anger great to wreak,

  A blow, that pierced the mail and metal bright,

  And in his flank set ope a floodgate wide,

  Whereat the blood out streamed from his side.

  XXXVIII

  Provoked with his cry, and with that blow,

  The Turk upon him gan his blade discharge,

  He cleft his breastplate, having first pierced through,

  Lined with seven bulls’ hides, his mighty targe,

  And sheathed his weapons in his guts below;

  Wretched Latinus at that issue large,

  And at his mouth, poured out his vital blood,

  And sprinkled with the same his murdered brood.

  XXXIX

  On Apennine like as a sturdy tree,

  Against the winds that makes resistance stout,

  If with a storm it overturned be,

  Falls down and breaks the trees and plants about;

  So Latine fell, and with him felled he

  And slew the nearest of the Pagans’ rout,

  A worthy end, fit for a man of fame,

  That dying, slew; and conquered, overcame.

  XL

  Meanwhile the Soldan strove his rage

  To satisfy with blood of Christian spilled,

  The Arabians heartened by their captain stern,

  With murder every tent and cabin filled,

  Henry the English knight, and Olipherne,

  O fierce Draguto, by thy hands were killed!

  Gilbert and Philip were by Ariadene

  Both slain, both born upon the banks of Rhone.

  XLI

  Albazar with his mace Ernesto slew,

  Under Algazel Engerlan down fell,

/>   But the huge murder of the meaner crew,

  Or manner of their deaths, what tongue can tell?

  Godfrey, when first the heathen trumpets blew,

  Awaked, which heard, no fear could make him dwell,

  But he and his were up and armed ere long,

  And marched forward with a squadron strong.

  XLII

  He that well heard the rumor and the cry,

  And marked the tumult still grow more and more,

  The Arabian thieves he judged by and by

  Against his soldiers made this battle sore;

  For that they forayed all the countries nigh,

  And spoiled the fields, the duke knew well before,

  Yet thought he not they had the hardiment

  So to assail him in his armed tent.

  XLIII

  All suddenly he heard, while on he went,

  How to the city-ward, “Arm, arm!” they cried,

  The noise upreared to the firmament,

  With dreadful howling filled the valleys wlde:

  This was Clorinda, whom the king forth sent

  To battle, and Argantes by her side.

  The duke, this heard, to Guelpho turned, and prayed

  Him his lieutenant be, and to him said:

  XLIV

  “You hear this new alarm from yonder part,

  That from the town breaks out with so much rage,

  Us needeth much your valor and your art

  To calm their fury, and their heat to ‘suage;

  Go thither then, and with you take some part

  Of these brave soldiers of mine equipage,

  While with the residue of my champions bold

  I drive these wolves again out of our fold.”

  XLV

  They parted, this agreed on them between,

  By divers paths, Lord Guelpho to the hill,

  And Godfrey hasted where the Arabians keen

  His men like silly sheep destroy and kill;

  But as he went his troops increased been,

  From every part the people flocked still,

  That now grown strong enough, he ‘proached nigh

  Where the fierce Turk caused many a Christian die.

  XLVI

  So from the top of Vesulus the cold,

  Down to the sandy valleys, tumbleth Po,

  Whose streams the further from the fountain rolled

  Still stronger wax, and with more puissance go;

  And horned like a bull his forehead bold

  He lifts, and o’er his broken banks doth flow,

  And with his horns to pierce the sea assays,

  To which he proffereth war, not tribute pays.

  XLVII

  The duke his men fast flying did espy,

  And thither ran, and thus, displeased, spake,

  “What fear is this? Oh, whither do you fly?

  See who they be that this pursuit do make,

  A heartless band, that dare no battle try,

  Who wounds before dare neither give nor take,

  Against them turn your stern eye’s threatening sight,

  An angry look will put them all to flight.”

  XLVIII

  This said, he spurred forth where Solyman

  Destroyed Christ’s vineyard like a savage boar,

  Through streams of blood, through dust and dirt he ran,

  O’er heaps of bodies wallowing in their gore,

  The squadrons close his sword to ope began,

  He broke their ranks, behind, beside, before,

  And, where he goes, under his feet he treads

  The armed Saracens, and barbed steeds.

  XLIX

  This slaughter-house of angry Mars he passed,

  Where thousands dead, half-dead, and dying were.

  The hardy Soldan saw him come in haste,

  Yet neither stepped aside nor shrunk for fear,

  But busked him bold to fight, aloft he cast

  His blade, prepared to strike, and stepped near,

  These noble princes twain, so Fortune wrought

  From the world’s end here met, and here they fought:

  L

  With virtue, fury; strength with courage strove,

  For Asia’s mighty empire, who can tell

  With how strange force their cruel blows they drove?

  How sore their combat was? how fierce, how fell?

  Great deeds they wrought, each other’s harness clove;

  Yet still in darkness, more the ruth, they dwell.

  The night their acts her black veil covered under,

  Their acts whereat the sun, the world might wonder.

  LI

  The Christians by their guide’s ensample hearted,

  Of their best armed made a squadron strong,

  And to defend their chieftain forth they started:

  The Pagans also saved their knight from wrong,

  Fortune her favors twixt them evenly parted,

  Fierce was the encounter, bloody, doubtful, long;

  These won, those lost; these lost, those won again;

  The loss was equal, even the numbers slain.

  LII

  With equal rage, as when the southern wind,

  Meeteth in battle strong the northern blast,

  The sea and air to neither is resigned,

  But cloud gainst cloud, and wave gainst wave they cast:

  So from this skirmish neither part declined,

  But fought it out, and kept their footings fast,

  And oft with furious shock together rush,

  And shield gainst shield, and helm gainst helm they crush.

  LIII

  The battle eke to Sionward grew hot,

  The soldiers slain, the hardy knights were killed,

  Legions of sprites from Limbo’s prisons got,

  The empty air, the hills and valleys filled,

  Hearting the Pagans that they shrinked not,

  Till where they stood their dearest blood they spilled;

  And with new rage Argantes they inspire,

  Whose heat no flames, whose burning need no fire.

  LIV

  Where he came in he put to shameful flight

  The fearful watch, and o’er the trenches leaped,

  Even with the ground he made the rampire’s height,

  And murdered bodies in the ditch unheaped,

  So that his greedy mates with labor light,

  Amid the tents, a bloody harvest reaped:

  Clorinda went the proud Circassian by,

  So from a piece two chained bullets fly.

  LV

  Now fled the Frenchmen, when in lucky hour

  Arrived Guelpho, and his helping band,

  He made them turn against this stormy shower,

  And with bold face their wicked foes withstand.

  Sternly they fought, that from their wounds downpour

  The streams of blood and run on either hand:

  The Lord of heaven meanwhile upon this fight,

  From his high throne bent down his gracious sight.

  LVI

  From whence with grace and goodness compassed round,

  He ruleth, blesseth, keepeth all he wrought,

  Above the air, the fire, the sea and ground,

  Our sense, our wit, our reason and our thought,

  Where persons three, with power and glory crowned,

  Are all one God, who made all things of naught,

  Under whose feet, subjected to his grace,

  Sit nature, fortune, motion, time and place.

  LVII

  This is the place, from whence like smoke and dust

  Of this frail world the wealth, the pomp and power,

  He tosseth, tumbleth, turneth as he lust,

  And guides our life, our death, our end and hour:

  No eye, however virtuous, pure and just,

  Can view the brightness of that glorious bower,

  On every side the blessed sp
irits be,

  Equal in joys, though differing in degree.

  LVIII

  With harmony of their celestial song

  The palace echoed from the chambers pure,

  At last he Michael called, in harness strong

  Of never yielding diamonds armed sure,

  “Behold,” quoth he, “to do despite and wrong

  To that dear flock my mercy hath in cure,

  How Satan from hell’s loathsome prison sends

  His ghosts, his sprites, his furies and his fiends.

  LIX

  “Go bid them all depart, and leave the care

  Of war to soldiers, as doth best pertain:

  Bid them forbear to infect the earth and air;

  To darken heaven’s fair light, bid them refrain;

  Bid them to Acheron’s black flood repair,

  Fit house for them, the house of grief and pain:

  There let their king himself and them torment,

  So I command, go tell them mine intent.”

  LX

  This said, the winged warrior low inclined

  At his Creator’s feet with reverence due;

  Then spread his golden feathers to the wind,

  And swift as thought away the angel flew,

  He passed the light, and shining fire assigned

  The glorious seat of his selected crew,

  The mover first, and circle crystalline,

  The firmament, where fixed stars all shine;

  LXI

  Unlike in working then, in shape and show,

  At his left hand, Saturn he left and Jove,

  And those untruly errant called I trow,

  Since he errs not, who them doth guide and move:

  The fields he passed then, whence hail and snow,

  Thunder and rain fall down from clouds above,

  Where heat and cold, dryness and moisture strive,

  Whose wars all creatures kill, and slain, revive.

  LXII

  The horrid darkness, and the shadows dun

  Dispersed he with his eternal wings,

  The flames which from his heavenly eyes outrun

  Beguiled the earth and all her sable things;

  After a storm so spreadeth forth the sun

  His rays and binds the clouds in golden strings,

  Or in the stillness of a moonshine even

  A falling star so glideth down from Heaven.

  LXIII

  But when the infernal troop he ‘proached near,

  That still the Pagans’ ire and rage provoke,

  The angel on his wings himself did bear,

  And shook his lance, and thus at last he spoke:

  “Have you not learned yet to know and fear

  The Lord’s just wrath, and thunder’s dreadful stroke?

  Or in the torments of your endless ill,

  Are you still fierce, still proud, rebellious still?

  LXIV

  “The Lord hath sworn to break the iron bands

  The brazen gates of Sion’s fort which close,