Jerusalem Delivered

by Torquato Tasso

  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 armed men as sand.

  XI

  The passengers to landward turned their sight,

  And there saw pitched 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 horned hoofs the sandy ways outrent,

  And in the haven many a ship and boat,

  With mighty anchors fastened, swim and float;

  XII

  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.

  XIII

  “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 wished end,

  Before this king or his lieutenant shall

  These armies bring to Zion’s conquered wall.”

  XIV

  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 passed 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.

  XV

  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:

  XVI

  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 joined to the shore:

  XVII

  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.

  XVIII

  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 Alzerhes isle,

  Where dwelt the folk that Lotos ate erewhile.

  XIX

  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 Lilybaeum bends.

  The dame there pointed out where sometime stood

  Rome’s stately rival whilom, Carthage proud;

  XX

  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.

  XXI

  Numidia’s mighty plains they coasted then,

  Where wandering shepherds used their flocks to feed,

  Then Bugia and Argier, the infamous 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.

  XXII

  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.

  XXIII

  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?

  XXIV

  Now deep engulphed 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 sailed tell,

  Or other lands here be wherein men dwell.”

  XXV

  “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.

  XXVI

  “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 helped 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 forced that way since,

  Are drowned all, or unreturned from thence:

  XXVII

  “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 wonned 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?”

  XXVIII

  “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 Calpe’s mountain west that dwell,

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

  XXIX

  “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.

  XXX

  “The time shall come that sailors shall disdain

  To talk or argue of Alcides’ streat,

  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.

  XXXI

  “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

  That makes frail hearts of men to bow and bend,

  Within Abilas’ strait shall keep and hold

  The noble spirit of this sailor bold.

  XXXII

  “Thy ship, Columbus, shall her canvas wing

  Spread o’er that world that yet concealed 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.”

  XXXIII

  Thus talking, swift twixt south and west they run,

  And sliced 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;

  XXXIV

  And drawing near, the hill at ease they view,

  When all the clouds were molten, fallen and fled,

  Whose top pyramid-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.

  XXXV

  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 reigned 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.

  XXXVI

  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.

  XXXVII

  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,

  The first of ten, that lies next Afric’s shore;

  XXXVIII

  When Charles thus, “If, worthy governess,

  To our good speed such tarriance be no let,

  Upon this isle that Heaven so fair doth bless,

  To view the place, on land awhile us set,

  To know the folk and what God they confess,

  And all whereby man’s heart may knowledge get,

  That I may tell the wonders therein seen

  Another day, and say, there have I been.”

  XXXIX

  She answered him, “Well fits this high desire

  Thy noble heart, yet cannot I consent;

  For Heaven’s decree, firm, stable, and entire,

  Thy wish repugns, and gainst thy will is bent,

  Nor yet the time hath Titan’s gliding fire

  Met forth, prefixed for this discoverment,

  Nor is it lawful of the ocean main

  That you the secrets know, or known explain.

  XL

  “To you withouten needle, map or card

  It’s given to pass these seas, and there arrive

  Where in strong prison lies your knight imbarred,

  And of her prey you must the witch deprive:

  If further to aspire you be prepared,

  In vain gainst fate and Heaven’s decree you strive.”

  While thus she said, the first seen isle gave place,

  And high and rough the second showed his face.

  XLI

  They saw how eastward stretched in order long,

  The happy islands sweetly flowering lay;

  And how the seas betwixt those isles enthrong,

  And how they shouldered land from land away:

  In seven of them the people rude among

  The shady trees their sheds had built of clay,

  The rest lay waste, unless wild beasts unseen,

  Or wanton nymphs, roamed on the mountains green.

  XLII

  A secret place they found in one of those,

  Where the cleft shore sea in his bosom takes,

  And ‘twixt his stretched arms doth fold and close

  An ample bay, a rock the haven makes,

  Which to the main doth his broad back oppose,

  Whereon the roaring billow cleaves and breaks,

  And here and there two crags like turrets high,

  Point forth a port to all that sail thereby:

  XLIII

  The quiet seas below lie safe and still,

  The green wood like a garland grows aloft,

  Sweet caves within, cool shades and waters shrill,

  Where lie the nymphs on moss and ivy soft;

  No anchor there needs hold her frigate still,

  Nor cable twisted sure, though breaking oft:
/>
  Into this desert, silent, quiet, glad,

  Entered the dame, and there her haven made.

  XLIV

  “The palace proudly built,” quoth she, “behold,

  That sits on top of yonder mountain’s height,

  Of Christ’s true faith there lies the champion bold

  In idleness, love, fancy, folly light;

  When Phoebus shall his rising beams unfold,

  Prepare you gainst the hill to mount upright,

  Nor let this stay in your bold hearts breed care,

  For, save that one, all hours unlucky are;

  XLV

  “But yet this evening, if you make good speed,

  To that hill’s foot with daylight might you pass.”

  Thus said the dame their guide, and they agreed,

  And took their leave and leaped forth on the grass;

  They found the way that to the hill doth lead,

  And softly went that neither tired was,

  But at the mountain’s foot they both arrived,

  Before the sun his team in waters dived.

  XLVI

  They saw how from the crags and clefts below

  His proud and stately pleasant top grew out,

  And how his sides were clad with frost and snow,

  The height was green with herbs and flowerets sout,

  Like hairy locks the trees about him grow,

  The rocks of ice keep watch and ward about,

  The tender roses and the lilies new,

  Thus art can nature change, and kind subdue.

  XLVII

  Within a thick, a dark and shady plot,

  At the hill’s foot that night the warriors dwell,

  But when the sun his rays bright, shining, hot,

  Dispread of golden light the eternal well,

  “Up, up,” they cried, and fiercely up they got,

  And climbed boldly gainst the mountain fell;

  But forth there crept, from whence I cannot say,

  An ugly serpent which forestalled their way.

  XLVIII

  Armed with golden scales his head and crest

  He lifted high, his neck swelled great with ire,

  Flamed his eyes, and hiding with his breast

  All the broad path, he poison breathed and fire,

  Now reached he forth in folds and forward pressed,

  Now would he back in rolls and heaps retire,

  Thus he presents himself to guard the place,

  The knights pressed forward with assured pace:

  XLIX

  Charles drew forth his brand to strike the snake;

  Ubaldo cried, “Stay, my companion dear,

  Will you with sword or weapon battle make

  Against this monster that affronts us here?”

  This said, he gan his charmed rod to shake,

  So that the serpent durst not hiss for fear,

  But fled, and dead for dread fell on the grass,

  And so the passage plain, eath, open was.

  L