Jerusalem Delivered

by Torquato Tasso

  Godfredo’s thought to other acts incline,

  His working brain was never idle found.

  But in the Crab now did bright Titan shine,

  And scorched with scalding beams the parched ground,

  And made unfit for toil or warlike feat

  His soldiers, weak with labor, faint with sweat:

  LIII

  The planets mild their lamps benign quenched out,

  And cruel stars in heaven did signorize,

  Whose influence cast fiery flames about

  And hot impressions through the earth and skies,

  The growing heat still gathered deeper rout,

  The noisome warmth through lands and kingdoms flies,

  A harmful night a hurtful day succeeds,

  And worse than both next morn her light outspreads.

  LIV

  When Phoebus rose he left his golden weed,

  And donned a gite in deepest purple dyed,

  His sanguine beams about his forehead spread,

  A sad presage of ill that should betide,

  With vermeil drops at even his tresses bleed,

  Foreshows of future heat, from the ocean wide

  When next he rose, and thus increased still

  Their present harms with dread of future ill,

  LV

  While thus he bent gainst earth his scorching rays,

  He burnt the flowers, burnt his Clytie dear,

  The leaves grew wan upon the withered sprays,

  The grass and growing herbs all parched were,

  Earth cleft in rifts, in floods their streams decays,

  The barren clouds with lightning bright appear,

  And mankind feared lest Climenes’ child again

  Had driven awry his sire’s ill-guided wain.

  LVI

  As from a furnace flew the smoke to skies,

  Such smoke as that when damned Sodom brent,

  Within his caves sweet Zephyr silent lies,

  Still was the air, the rack nor came nor went,

  But o’er the lands with lukewarm breathing flies

  The southern wind, from sunburnt Afric sent,

  Which thick and warm his interrupted blasts

  Upon their bosoms, throats, and faces casts.

  LVII

  Nor yet more comfort brought the gloomy night,

  In her thick shades was burning heat uprolled,

  Her sable mantle was embroidered bright

  With blazing stars and gliding fires for gold,

  Nor to refresh, sad earth, thy thirsty sprite,

  The niggard moon let fall her May dews cold,

  And dried up the vital moisture was,

  In trees, in plants, in herbs, in flowers, in grass.

  LVIII

  Sleep to his quiet dales exiled fled

  From these unquiet nights, and oft in vain

  The soldiers restless sought the god in bed,

  But most for thirst they mourned and most complain;

  For Juda’s tyrant had strong poison shed,

  Poison that breeds more woe and deadly pain,

  Than Acheron or Stygian waters bring,

  In every fountain, cistern, well and spring:

  LIX

  And little Siloe that his store bestows

  Of purest crystal on the Christian bands,

  The pebbles naked in his channel shows

  And scantly glides above the scorched sands,

  Nor Po in May when o’er his banks he flows,

  Nor Ganges, waterer of the Indian lands,

  Nor seven-mouthed Nile that yields all Egypt drink,

  To quench their thirst the men sufficient think.

  LX

  He that the gliding rivers erst had seen

  Adown their verdant channels gently rolled,

  Or falling streams which to the valleys green

  Distilled from tops of Alpine mountains cold,

  Those he desired in vain, new torments been,

  Augmented thus with wish of comforts old,

  Those waters cool he drank in vain conceit,

  Which more increased his thirst, increased his heat.

  LXI

  The sturdy bodies of the warriors strong,

  Whom neither marching far, nor tedious way,

  Nor weighty arms which on their shoulders hung,

  Could weary make, nor death itself dismay;

  Now weak and feeble cast their limbs along,

  Unwieldly burdens, on the burned clay,

  And in each vein a smouldering fire there dwelt,

  Which dried their flesh and solid bones did melt.

  LXII

  Languished the steed late fierce, and proffered grass,

  His fodder erst, despised and from him cast,

  Each step he stumbled, and which lofty was

  And high advanced before now fell his crest,

  His conquests gotten all forgotten pass,

  Nor with desire of glory swelled his breast,

  The spoils won from his foe, his late rewards,

  He now neglects, despiseth, naught regards.

  LXIII

  Languished the faithful dog, and wonted care

  Of his dear lord and cabin both forgot,

  Panting he laid, and gathered fresher air

  To cool the burning in his entrails hot:

  But breathing, which wise nature did prepare

  To suage the stomach’s heat, now booted not,

  For little ease, alas, small help, they win

  That breathe forth air and scalding fire suck in.

  LXIV

  Thus languished the earth, in this estate

  Lay woful thousands of the Christians stout,

  The faithful people grew nigh desperate

  Of hoped conquest, shameful death they doubt,

  Of their distress they talk and oft debate,

  These sad complaints were heard the camp throughout:

  “What hope hath Godfrey? shall we still here lie

  Till all his soldiers, all our armies die?

  LXV

  “Alas, with what device, what strength, thinks he

  To scale these walls, or this strong fort to get?

  Whence hath he engines new? doth he not see,

  How wrathful Heaven gainst us his sword doth whet?

  These tokens shown true signs and witness be

  Our angry God our proud attempts doth let,

  And scorching sun so hot his beams outspreads,

  That not more cooling Inde nor Aethiop needs.

  LXVI

  “Or thinks he it an eath or little thing

  That us despised, neglected, and disdained,

  Like abjects vile, to death he thus should bring,

  That so his empire may be still maintained?

  Is it so great a bliss to be a king,

  When he that wears the crown with blood is stained

  And buys his sceptre with his people’s lives?

  See whither glory vain, fond mankind drives.

  LXVII

  “See, see the man, called holy, just, and good,

  That courteous, meek, and humble would be thought,

  Yet never cared in what distress we stood

  If his vain honor were diminished naught,

  When dried up from us his spring and flood

  His water must from Jordan streams be brought,

  And how he sits at feasts and banquets sweet

  And mingleth waters fresh with wines of Crete.”

  LXVIII

  The French thus murmured, but the Greekish knight

  Tatine, that of this war was weary grown:

  “Why die we here,” quoth he, “slain without fight,

  Killed, not subdued, murdered, not overthrown?

  Upon the Frenchmen let the penance light

  Of Godfrey’s folly, let me save mine own,”

  And as he said, without farewell, the knight

  And all his comet stole
away by night.

  LXIX

  His bad example many a troop prepares

  To imitate, when his escape they know,

  Clotharius his band, and Ademare’s,

  And all whose guides in dust were buried low,

  Discharged of duty’s chains and bondage snares,

  Free from their oath, to none they service owe,

  But now concluded all on secret flight,

  And shrunk away by thousands every night.

  LXX

  Godfredo this both heard, and saw, and knew,

  Yet nould with death them chastise though he mought,

  But with that faith wherewith he could renew

  The steadfast hills and seas dry up to naught

  He prayed the Lord upon his flock to rue,

  To ope the springs of grace and ease this drought,

  Out of his looks shone zeal, devotion, faith,

  His hands and eyes to heaven he heaves, and saith:

  LXXI

  “Father and Lord, if in the deserts waste

  Thou hadst compassion on thy children dear,

  The craggy rock when Moses cleft and brast,

  And drew forth flowing streams of waters clear,

  Like mercy, Lord, like grace on us down cast;

  And though our merits less than theirs appear,

  Thy grace supply that want, for though they be

  Thy first-born son, thy children yet are we.”

  LXXII

  These prayers just, from humble hearts forth sent,

  Were nothing slow to climb the starry sky,

  But swift as winged bird themselves present

  Before the Father of the heavens high:

  The Lord accepted them, and gently bent

  Upon the faithful host His gracious eye,

  And in what pain and what distress it laid,

  He saw, and grieved to see, and thus He said:

  LXXIII

  “Mine armies dear till now have suffered woe,

  Distress and danger, hell’s infernal power

  Their enemy hath been, the world their foe,

  But happy be their actions from this hour:

  What they begin to blessed end shall go,

  I will refresh them with a gentle shower;

  Rinaldo shall return, the Egyptian crew

  They shall encounter, conquer, and subdue.”

  LXXIV

  At these high words great heaven began to shake,

  The fixed stars, the planets wandering still,

  Trembled the air, the earth and ocean quake,

  Spring, fountain, river, forest, dale and hill;

  From north to east, a lightning flash outbrake,

  And coming drops presaged with thunders shrill:

  With joyful shouts the soldiers on the plain,

  These tokens bless of long-desired rain.

  LXXV

  A sudden cloud, as when Helias prayed,

  Not from dry earth exhaled by Phoebus’ beams,

  Arose, moist heaven his windows open laid,

  Whence clouds by heaps out rush, and watery streams,

  The world o’erspread was with a gloomy shade,

  That like a dark mirksome even it seems;

  The crashing rain from molten skies down fell,

  And o’er their banks the brooks and fountains swell.

  LXXVI

  In summer season, when the cloudy sky

  Upon the parched ground doth rain down send,

  As duck and mallard in the furrows dry

  With merry noise the promised showers attend,

  And spreading broad their wings displayed lie

  To keep the drops that on their plumes descend,

  And where the streams swell to a gathered lake,

  Therein they dive, and sweet refreshing take:

  LXXVII

  So they the streaming showers with shouts and cries

  Salute, which heaven shed on the thirsty lands,

  The falling liquor from the dropping skies

  He catcheth in his lap, he barehead stands,

  And his bright helm to drink therein unties,

  In the fresh streams he dives his sweaty hands,

  Their faces some, and some their temples wet,

  And some to keep the drops large vessels set.

  LXXVIII

  Nor man alone to ease his burning sore,

  Herein doth dive and wash, and hereof drinks,

  But earth itself weak, feeble, faint before,

  Whose solid limbs were cleft with rifts and chinks,

  Received the falling showers and gathered store

  Of liquor sweet, that through her veins down sinks,

  And moisture new infused largely was

  In trees, in plants, in herbs, in flowers, in grass.

  LXXIX

  Earth, like the patient was, whose lively blood

  Hath overcome at last some sickness strong,

  Whose feeble limbs had been the bait and food

  Whereon this strange disease depastured long,

  But now restored, in health and welfare stood,

  As sound as erst, as fresh, as fair, as young;

  So that forgetting all his grief and pain,

  His pleasant robes and crowns he takes again.

  LXXX

  Ceased the rain, the sun began to shine,

  With fruitful, sweet, benign, and gentle ray,

  Full of strong power and vigor masculine,

  As be his beams in April or in May.

  O happy zeal! who trusts in help divine

  The world’s afflictions thus can drive away,

  Can storms appease, and times and seasons change,

  And conquer fortune, fate, and destiny strange.

  FOURTEENTH BOOK

  THE ARGUMENT.

  His will; Rinaldo must return at last;

  They have their asking who for pardon sue:

  Two knights to find the prince are sent in haste,

  But Peter, who by vision all foreknew,

  Sendeth the searchers to a wizard, placed

  Deep in a vault, who first at large declares

  Armida’s trains, then how to shun those snares.

  I

  Now from the fresh, the soft and tender bed

  Of her still mother, gentle night out flew,

  The fleeting balm on hills and dales she shed,

  With honey drops of pure and precious dew,

  And on the verdure of green forests spread

  The virgin primrose and the violet blue,

  And sweet-breathed Zephyr on his spreading wings,

  Sleep, ease, repose, rest, peace and quiet brings.

  II

  The thoughts and troubles of broad-waking day,

  They softly dipped in mild Oblivion’s lake;

  But he whose Godhead heaven and earth doth sway,

  In his eternal light did watch and wake,

  And bent on Godfrey down the gracious ray

  Of his bright eye, still ope for Godfrey’s sake,

  To whom a silent dream the Lord down sent.

  Which told his will, his pleasure and intent.

  III

  Far in the east, the golden gate beside

  Whence Phoebus comes, a crystal port there is,

  And ere the sun his broad doors open wide

  The beam of springing day uncloseth this,

  Hence comes the dreams, by which heaven’s sacred guide

  Reveals to man those high degrees of his,

  Hence toward Godfrey ere he left his bed

  A vision strange his golden plumes bespread.

  IV

  Such semblances, such shapes, such portraits fair,

  Did never yet in dream or sleep appear,

  For all the forms in sea, in earth or air,

  The signs in heaven, the stars in every sphere

  All that was wondrous, uncouth, strange and rare,

  All in that vision well presente
d were.

  His dream had placed him in a crystal wide,

  Beset with golden fires, top, bottom, side,

  V

  There while he wondereth on the circles vast,

  The stars, their motions, course and harmony,

  A knight, with shining rays and fire embraced,

  Presents himself unwares before his eye,

  Who with a voice that far for sweetness passed

  All human speech, thus said, approaching nigh:

  “What, Godfrey, knowest thou not thy Hugo here?

  Come and embrace thy friend and fellow dear!”

  VI

  He answered him, “Thy glorious shining light

  Which in thine eyes his glistering beams doth place,

  Estranged hath from my foreknowledge quite

  Thy countenance, thy favor, and thy face:”

  This said, three times he stretched his hands outright

  And would in friendly arms the knight embrace,

  And thrice the spirit fled, that thrice he twined

  Naught in his folded arms but air and wind.

  VII

  Lord Hugo smiled, “Not as you think,” quoth he,

  “I clothed am in flesh and earthly mould,

  My spirit pure, and naked soul, you see,

  A citizen of this celestial hold:

  This place is heaven, and here a room for thee

  Prepared is among Christ’s champions bold:”

  “Ah when,” quoth he, “these mortal bonds unknit,

  Shall I in peace, in ease and rest there sit?”

  VIII

  Hugo replied, “Ere many years shall run,

  Amid the saints in bliss here shalt thou reign;

  But first great wars must by thy hand be done,

  Much blood be shed, and many Pagans slain,

  The holy city by assault be won,

  The land set free from servile yoke again,

  Wherein thou shalt a Christian empire frame,

  And after thee shall Baldwin rule the same.

  IX

  “But to increase thy love and great desire

  To heavenward, this blessed place behold,

  These shining lamps, these globes of living fire,

  How they are turned, guided, moved and rolled;

  The angels’ singing hear, and all their choir;

  Then bend thine eyes on yonder earth and mould,

  All in that mass, that globe and compass see,

  Land, sea, spring, fountain, man, beast, grass and tree.

  X

  “How vile, how small, and of how slender price,

  Is their reward of goodness, virtue’s gain!

  A narrow room our glory vain upties,

  A little circle doth our pride contain,

  Earth like an isle amid the water lies,

  Which sea sometime is called, sometime the main,

  Yet naught therein responds a name so great,

  It’s but a lake, a pond, a marish strait.”