Jerusalem Delivered

by Torquato Tasso

  To join with him, and once again assay

  To win by fight, by which so oft he lost:

  Determined thus, he made no longer stay,

  But thitherward spurred forth his steed in post,

  Nor need he guide, the way right well he could,

  That leads to sandy plains of Gaza old.

  V

  Nor though his smarting wounds torment him oft,

  His body weak and wounded back and side,

  Yet rested he, nor once his armor doffed,

  But all day long o’er hills and dales doth ride:

  But when the night cast up her shade aloft

  And all earth’s colors strange in sables dyed,

  He light, and as he could his wounds upbound,

  And shook ripe dates down from a palm he found.

  VI

  On them he supped, and amid the field

  To rest his weary limbs awhile he sought,

  He made his pillow of his broken shield

  To ease the griefs of his distempered thought,

  But little ease could so hard lodging yield,

  His wounds so smarted that he slept right naught,

  And, in his breast, his proud heart rent in twain,

  Two inward vultures, Sorrow and Disdain.

  VII

  At length when midnight with her silence deep

  Did heaven and earth hushed, still, and quiet make,

  Sore watched and weary, he began to steep

  His cares and sorrows in oblivion’s lake,

  And in a little, short, unquiet sleep

  Some small repose his fainting spirits take;

  But, while he slept, a voice grave and severe

  At unawares thus thundered in his ear:

  VIII

  “O Solyman! thou far-renowned king,

  Till better season serve, forbear thy rest;

  A stranger doth thy lands in thraldom bring,

  Nice is a slave, by Christian yoke oppressed;

  Sleepest thou here, forgetful of this thing,

  That here thy friends lie slain, not laid in chest,

  Whose bones bear witness of thy shame and scorn!

  And wilt thou idly here attend the morn?”

  IX

  The king awoke, and saw before his eyes

  A man whose presence seemed grave and old,

  A writhen staff his steps unstable guies,

  Which served his feeble members to uphold.

  “And what art thou?” the prince in scorn replies,

  “What sprite to vex poor passengers so bold,

  To break their sleep? or what to thee belongs

  My shame, my loss, my vengeance or my wrongs.”

  X

  “I am the man of thine intent,” quoth he,

  “And purpose new that sure conjecture hath,

  And better than thou weenest know I thee:

  I proffer thee my service and my faith.

  My speeches therefore sharp and biting be,

  Because quick words the whetstones are of wrath, —

  Accept in gree, my lord, the words I spoke,

  As spurs thine ire and courage to provoke.

  XI

  “But now to visit Egypt’s mighty king,

  Unless my judgment fall, you are prepared,

  I prophesy, about a needless thing

  You suffer shall a voyage long and hard:

  For though you stay, the monarch great will bring

  His new assembled host to Juda-ward,

  No place of service there, no cause of fight,

  Nor gainst our foes to use your force and might.

  XII

  “But if you follow me, within this wall

  With Christian arms hemmed in on every side,

  Withouten battle, fight, or stroke at all,

  Even at noonday, I will you safely guide,

  Where you delight, rejoice, and glory shall

  In perils great to see your prowess tried.

  That noble town you may preserve and shield,

  Till Egypt’s host come to renew the field.”

  XIII

  While thus he parleyed, of this aged guest

  The Turk the words and looks did both admire,

  And from his haughty eyes and furious breast

  He laid apart his pride, his rage and ire,

  And humbly said, “I willing am and prest

  To follow where thou leadest, reverend sire,

  And that advice best fits my angry vein

  That tells of greatest peril, greatest pain.”

  XIV

  The old man praised his words, and for the air

  His late received wounds to worse disposes,

  A quintessence therein he poured fair,

  That stops the bleeding, and incision closes:

  Beholding then before Apollo’s chair

  How fresh Aurora violets strewed and roses,

  “It’s time,” he says, “to wend, for Titan bright

  To wonted labor summons every wight.”

  XV

  And to a chariot, that beside did stand,

  Ascended he, and with him Solyman,

  He took the reins, and with a mastering hand

  Ruled his steeds, and whipped them now and than,

  The wheels or horses’ feet upon the land

  Had left no sign nor token where they ran,

  The coursers pant and smoke with lukewarm sweat

  And, foaming cream, their iron mouthfuls eat.

  XVI

  The air about them round, a wondrous thing,

  Itself on heaps in solid thickness drew,

  The chariot hiding and environing,

  The subtle mist no mortal eye could view;

  And yet no stone from engine cast or sling

  Could pierce the cloud, it was of proof so true;

  Yet seen it was to them within which ride,

  And heaven and earth without, all clear beside.

  XVII

  His beetle brows the Turk amazed bent,

  He wrinkled up his front, and wildly stared

  Upon the cloud and chariot as it went,

  For speed to Cynthia’s car right well compared:

  The other seeing his astonishment

  How he bewondered was, and how he fared,

  All suddenly by name the prince gan call,

  By which awaked thus he spoke withal:

  XVIII

  “Whoe’er thou art above all worldly wit

  That hast these high and wondrous marvels brought,

  And know’st the deep intents which hidden sit

  In secret closet of man’s private thought,

  If in thy skilful heart this lot be writ,

  To tell the event of things to end unbrought;

  Then say, what issue and what ends the stars

  Allot to Asia’s troubles, broils and wars.

  XIX

  “But tell me first thy name, and by what art

  Thou dost these wonders strange, above our skill;

  For full of marvel is my troubled heart,

  Tell then and leave me not amazed still.”

  The wizard smiled and answered, “In some part

  Easy it is to satisfy thy will,

  Ismen I hight, called an enchanter great,

  Such skill have I in magic’s secret feat;

  XX

  “But that I should the sure events unfold

  Of things to come, or destinies foretell,

  Too rash is your desire, your wish too bold,

  To mortal heart such knowledge never fell;

  Our wit and strength on us bestowed I hold,

  To shun the evils and harms, mongst which we dwell,

  They make their fortune who are stout and wise,

  Wit rules the heavens, discretion guides the skies.

  XXI

  “That puissant arm of thine that well can rend

  From Godfrey’s brow the new usurped crown,
<
br />   And not alone protect, save and defend

  From his fierce people, this besieged town,

  Gainst fire and sword with strength and courage bend,

  Adventure, suffer, trust, tread perils down,

  And to content, and to encourage thee,

  Know this, which as I in a cloud foresee:

  XXII

  “I guess, before the over-gliding sun

  Shall many years mete out by weeks and days,

  A prince that shall in fertile Egypt won,

  Shall fill all Asia with his prosperous frays,

  I speak not of his acts in quiet done,

  His policy, his rule, his wisdom’s praise,

  Let this suffice, by him these Christians shall

  In fight subdued fly, and conquered fall.

  XXIII

  “And their great empire and usurped state

  Shall overthrown in dust and ashes lie,

  Their woful remnant in an angle strait

  Compassed with sea themselves shall fortify,

  From thee shall spring this lord of war and fate.”

  Whereto great Solyman gan thus reply:

  “O happy man to so great praise ybore!”

  Thus he rejoiced, but yet envied more;

  XXIV

  And said, “Let chance with good or bad aspect

  Upon me look as sacred Heaven’s decree,

  This heart to her I never will subject,

  Nor ever conquered shall she look on me;

  The moon her chariot shall awry direct

  Ere from this course I will diverted be.”

  While thus he spake, it seemed he breathed fire,

  So fierce his courage was, so hot his ire.

  XXV

  Thus talked they, till they arrived been

  Nigh to the place where Godfrey’s tents were reared,

  There was a woful spectacle yseen,

  Death in a thousand ugly forms appeared,

  The Soldan changed hue for grief and teen,

  On that sad book his shame and loss he lead,

  Ah, with what grief his men, his friends he found;

  And standards proud, inglorious lie on ground!

  XXVI

  And saw one visage of some well-known friend.

  In foul despite, a rascal Frenchman tread,

  And there another ragged peasant rend

  The arms and garments from some champion dead,

  And there with stately pomp by heaps they wend,

  And Christians slain roll up in webs of lead;

  Lastly the Turks and slain Arabians, brought

  On heaps, he saw them burn with fire to naught.

  XXVII

  Deeply he sighed, and with naked sword

  Out of the coach he leaped in the mire,

  But Ismen called again the angry lord,

  And with grave words appeased his foolish ire.

  The prince content remounted at his sword,

  Toward a hill on drove the aged sire,

  And hasting forward up the bank they pass,

  Till far behind the Christian leaguer was.

  XXVIII

  There they alight and took their way on foot,

  The empty chariot vanished out of sight,

  Yet still the cloud environed them about.

  At their left hand down went they from the height

  Of Sion’s Hill, till they approached the route

  On that side where to west he looketh right,

  There Ismen stayed, and his eyesight bent

  Upon the bushy rocks, and thither went.

  XXIX

  A hollow cave was in the craggy stone,

  Wrought out by hand a number years tofore,

  And for of long that way had walked none,

  The vault was hid with plants and bushes hoar,

  The wizard stooping in thereat to gone,

  The thorns aside and scratching brambles bore,

  His right hand sought the passage through the cleft,

  And for his guide he gave the prince his left:

  XXX

  “What,” quoth the Soldan, “by what privy mine,

  What hidden vault behoves it me to creep?

  This sword can find a better way than thine,

  Although our foes the passage guard and keep.”

  “Let not,” quoth he, “thy princely foot repine

  To tread this secret path, though dark and deep;

  For great King Herod used to tread the same,

  He that in arms had whilom so great fame.

  XXXI

  “This passage made he, when he would suppress

  His subjects’ pride, and them in bondage hold;

  By this he could from that small forteress

  Antonia called, of Antony the bold,

  Convey his folk unseen of more and less

  Even to the middest of the temple old,

  Thence, hither; where these privy ways begin,

  And bring unseen whole armies out and in.

  XXXII

  “But now saye I in all this world lives none

  That knows the secret of this darksome place,

  Come then where Aladine sits on his throne,

  With lords and princes set about his grace;

  He feareth more than fitteth such an one,

  Such signs of doubt show in his cheer and face;

  Fitly you come, hear, see, and keep you still,

  Till time and season serve, then speak your fill.”

  XXXIII

  This said, that narrow entrance passed the knight,

  So creeps a camel through a needle’s eye,

  And through the ways as black as darkest night

  He followed him that did him rule and guie;

  Strait was the way at first, withouten light,

  But further in, did further amplify;

  So that upright walked at ease the men

  Ere they had passed half that secret den,

  XXXIV

  A privy door Ismen unlocked at last,

  And up they clomb a little-used stair,

  Thereat the day a feeble beam in cast,

  Dim was the light, and nothing clear the air;

  Out of the hollow cave at length they passed

  Into a goodly hall, high, broad and fair,

  Where crowned with gold, and all in purple clad

  Sate the sad king, among his nobles sad.

  XXXV

  The Turk, close in his hollow cloud imbarred,

  Unseen, at will did all the prease behold,

  These heavy speeches of the king he heard,

  Who thus from lofty siege his pleasure told;

  “My lords, last day our state was much impaired,

  Our friends were slain, killed were our soldiers bold,

  Great helps and greater hopes are us bereft,

  Nor aught but aid from Egypt land is left:

  XXXVI

  “And well you see far distant is that aid,

  Upon our heels our danger treadeth still,

  For your advice was this assembly made,

  Each what he thinketh speak, and what he will.”

  A whisper soft arose when this was said,

  As gentle winds the groves with murmur fill,

  But with bold face, high looks and merry cheer,

  Argantes rose, the rest their talk forbear.

  XXXVII

  “O worthy sovereign,” thus began to say

  The hardy young man to the tyrant wise,

  “What words be these? what fears do you dismay?

  Who knows not this, you need not our advice!

  But on your hand your hope of conquest lay,

  And, for no loss true virtue damnifies,

  Make her our shield, pray her us succors give,

  And without her let us not wish to live.

  XXXVIII

  “Nor say I this for that I aught misdeem

  That Egypt’s promised succors fail us
might,

  Doubtful of my great master’s words to seem

  To me were neither lawful, just, nor right!

  I speak these words, for spurs I them esteem

  To waken up each dull and fearful sprite,

  And make our hearts resolved to all assays,

  To win with honor, or to die with praise.”

  XXXIX

  Thus much Argantes said, and said no more,

  As if the case were clear of which he spoke.

  Orcano rose, of princely stem ybore,

  Whose presence ‘mongst them bore a mighty stroke,

  A man esteemed well in arms of yore,

  But now was coupled new in marriage yoke;

  Young babes he had, to fight which made him loth,

  He was a husband and a father both.

  XL

  “My lord,” quoth he, “I will not reprehend

  The earnest zeal of this audacious speech,

  From courage sprung, which seld is close ypend

  In swelling stomach without violent breach:

  And though to you our good Circassian friend

  In terms too bold and fervent oft doth preach,

  Yet hold I that for good, in warlike feat

  For his great deeds respond his speeches great.

  XLI

  “But if it you beseem, whom graver age

  And long experience hath made wise and sly,

  To rule the heat of youth and hardy rage,

  Which somewhat have misled this knight awry,

  In equal balance ponder then and gauge

  Your hopes far distant, with your perils nigh;

  This town’s old walls and rampires new compare

  With Godfrey’s forces and his engines rare.

  XLII

  “But, if I may say what I think unblamed,

  This town is strong, by nature, site and art,

  But engines huge and instruments are framed

  Gainst these defences by our adverse part,

  Who thinks him most secure is eathest shamed;

  I hope the best, yet fear unconstant mart,

  And with this siege if we be long up pent,

  Famine I doubt, our store will all be spent.

  XLIII

  “For all that store of cattle and of grain

  Which yesterday within these walls you brought,

  While your proud foes triumphant through the plain

  On naught but shedding blood, and conquest thought,

  Too little is this city to sustain,

  To raise the siege unless some means be sought;

  And it must last till the prefixed hour

  That it be raised by Egypt’s aid and power.

  XLIV

  “But what if that appointed day they miss?

  Or else, ere we expect, what if they came?

  The victory yet is not ours for this,

  Oh save this town from ruin, us from shame!

  With that same Godfrey still our warfare is,

  These armies, soldiers, captains are the same