Jerusalem Delivered

by Torquato Tasso

  Stayed those that fled, and him assailed that chased.

  LXVIII

  The champions strong there fought a battle stout,

  Troy never saw the like by Xanthus old:

  A conflict sharp there was meanwhile on foot

  Twixt Baldwin good and Muleasses bold:

  The horsemen also near the mountains rout,

  And in both wings, a furious skirmish hold,

  And where the barbarous duke in person stood,

  Twixt Tisiphernes and Adrastus proud;

  XLIX

  With Emiren Robert the Norman strove,

  Long time they fought, yet neither lost nor won;

  The other Robert’s helm the Indian clove,

  And broke his arms, their fight would soon be done:

  From place to place did Tisiphernes rove,

  And found no match, against him none dust run,

  But where the press was thickest thither flew

  The knight, and at each stroke felled, hurt, or slew.

  L

  Thus fought they long, yet neither shrink nor yield,

  In equal balance hung their hope and fear:

  All full of broken lances lay the field,

  All full of arms that cloven and shattered were;

  Of swords, some to the body nail the shield,

  Some cut men’s throats, and some their bellies tear;

  Of bodies, some upright, some grovelling lay,

  And for themselves eat graves out of the clay.

  LI

  Beside his lord slain lay the noble steed,

  There friend with friend lay killed like lovers true,

  There foe with foe, the live under the dead,

  The victor under him whom late he slew:

  A hoarse unperfect sound did eachwhere spread,

  Whence neither silence, nor plain outcries flew:

  There fury roars, ire threats, and woe complains,

  One weeps, another cries, he sighs for pains.

  LII

  The arms that late so fair and glorious seem,

  Now soiled and slubbered, sad and sullen grow,

  The steel his brightness lost, the gold his beam;

  The colors had no pride nor beauty’s show;

  The plumes and feathers on their crests that stream,

  Are strowed wide upon the earth below:

  The hosts both clad in blood, in dust and mire,

  Had changed their cheer, their pride, their rich attire.

  LIII

  But now the Moors, Arabians, Ethiops black,

  Of the left wing that held the utmost marge,

  Spread forth their troops, and purposed at the back

  And side their heedless foes to assail and charge:

  Slingers and archers were not slow nor slack

  To shoot and cast, when with his battle large

  Rinaldo came, whose fury, haste and ire,

  Seemed earthquake, thunder, tempest, storm and fire.

  LIV

  The first he met was Asimire, his throne

  That set in Meroe’s hot sunburnt land,

  He cut his neck in twain, flesh, skin and bone,

  The sable head down tumbled on the sand;

  But when by death of this black prince alone

  The taste of blood and conquest once he fand,

  Whole squadrons then, whole troops to earth he brought,

  Things wondrous, strange, incredible he wrought.

  LV

  He gave more deaths than strokes, and yet his blows

  Upon his feeble foes fell oft and thick,

  To move three tongues as a fierce serpent shows,

  Which rolls the one she hath swift, speedy, quick,

  So thinks each Pagan; each Arabian trows

  He wields three swords, all in one hilt that stick;

  His readiness their eyes so blinded hath,

  Their dread that wonder bred, fear gave it faith.

  LVI

  The Afric tyrants and the negro kings

  Fell down on heaps, drowned each in other’s blood,

  Upon their people ran the knights he brings,

  Pricked forward by their guide’s example good,

  Killed were the Pagans, broke their bows and slings:

  Some died, some fell; some yielded, none withstood:

  A massacre was this, no fight; these put

  Their foes to death, those hold their throats to cut.

  LVII

  Small while they stood, with heart and hardy face,

  On their bold breasts deep wounds and hurts to bear,

  But fled away, and troubled in the chase

  Their ranks disordered be with too much fear:

  Rinaldo followed them from place to place,

  Till quite discomfit and dispersed they were.

  That done, he stays, and all his knights recalls,

  And scorns to strike his foe that flies or falls.

  LVIII

  Like as the wind stopped by some wood or hill,

  Grows strong and fierce, tears boughs and trees in twain,

  But with mild blasts, more temperate, gentle, still,

  Blows through the ample field or spacious plain;

  Against the rocks as sea-waves murmur shrill,

  But silent pass amid the open main:

  Rinaldo so, when none his force withstood,

  Assuaged his fury, calmed his angry mood;

  LIX

  He scorned upon their fearful backs that fled

  To wreak his ire and spend his force in vain,

  But gainst the footmen strong his troops he led,

  Whose side the Moors had open left and plain,

  The Africans that should have succored

  That battle, all were run away or slain,

  Upon their flank with force and courage stout

  His men at arms assailed the bands on foot:

  LX

  He brake their pikes, and brake their close array,

  Entered their battle, felled them down around,

  So wind or tempest with impetuous sway

  The ears of ripened corn strikes flat to ground:

  With blood, arms, bodies dead, the hardened clay

  Plastered the earth, no grass nor green was found;

  The horsemen running through and through their bands,

  Kill, murder, slay, few scape, not one withstands.

  LXI

  Rinaldo came where his forlorn Armide

  Sate on her golden chariot mounted high,

  A noble guard she had on every side

  Of lords, of lovers, and much chivalry:

  She knew the man when first his arms she spied,

  Love, hate, wrath, sweet desire strove in her eye,

  He changed somedeal his look and countenance bold,

  She changed from frost to fire, from heat to cold.

  LXII

  The prince passed by the chariot of his dear

  Like one that did his thoughts elsewhere bestow,

  Yet suffered not her knights and lovers near

  Their rival so to scape withouten blow,

  One drew his sword, another couched his spear,

  Herself an arrow sharp set in her bow,

  Disdain her ire new sharped and kindled hath,

  But love appeased her, love assuaged her wrath.

  LXIII

  Love bridled fury, and revived of new

  His fire, not dead, though buried in displeasure,

  Three times her angry hand the bow updrew,

  And thrice again let slack the string at leisure;

  But wrath prevailed at last, the reed outflew,

  For love finds mean, but hatred knows no measure,

  Outflew the shaft, but with the shaft, this charm,

  This wish she sent: Heaven grant it do no harm:

  LXIV

  She bids the reed return the way it went,

  And pierce her heart which so unkind could prove,

>   Such force had love, though lost and vainly spent,

  What strength hath happy, kind and mutual love?

  But she that gentle thought did straight repent,

  Wrath, fury, kindness, in her bosom strove,

  She would, she would not, that it missed or hit,

  Her eyes, her heart, her wishes followed it.

  LXV

  But yet in vain the quarrel lighted not,

  For on his hauberk hard the knight it hit,

  Too hard for woman’s shaft or woman’s shot,

  Instead of piercing, there it broke and split;

  He turned away, she burnt with fury hot,

  And thought he scorned her power, and in that fit

  Shot oft and oft, her shafts no entrance found,

  And while she shot, love gave her wound on wound.

  LXVI

  “And is he then unpierceable,” quoth she,

  “That neither force nor foe he needs regard?

  His limbs, perchance, armed with that hardness be,

  Which makes his heart so cruel and so hard,

  No shot that flies from eye or hand I see

  Hurts him, such rigor doth his person guard,

  Armed, or disarmed; his foe or mistress kind

  Despised alike, like hate, like scorn I find.

  LXVII

  “But what new form is left, device or art,

  By which, to which exchanged, I might find grace?

  For in my knights, and all that take my part,

  I see no help; no hope, no trust I place;

  To his great prowess, might, and valiant heart,

  All strength is weak, all courage vile and base.”

  This said she, for she saw how through the field

  Her champions fly, faint, tremble, fall and yield.

  LXVIII

  Nor left alone can she her person save,

  But to be slain or taken stands in fear,

  Though with a bow a javelin long she have,

  Yet weak was Phebe’s bow, blunt Pallas’ spear.

  But, as the swan, that sees the eagle brave

  Threatening her flesh and silver plumes to tear,

  Falls down, to hide her mongst the shady brooks:

  Such were her fearful motions, such her looks.

  LXIX

  But Altamore, this while that strove and sought

  From shameful flight his Persian host to stay,

  That was discomfit and destroyed to nought,

  Whilst he alone maintained the fight and fray,

  Seeing distressed the goddess of his thought,

  To aid her ran, nay flew, and laid away

  All care both of his honor and his host:

  If she were safe, let all the world be lost.

  LXX

  To the ill-guarded chariot swift he flew,

  His weapon made him way with bloody war:

  Meanwhile Lord Godfrey and Rinaldo slew

  His feeble bands, his people murdered are,

  He saw their loss, but aided not his crew,

  A better lover than a leader far,

  He set Armida safe, then turned again

  With tardy succor, for his folk were slain.

  LXXI

  And on that side the woful prince beheld

  The battle lost, no help nor hope remained;

  But on the other wing the Christians yield,

  And fly, such vantage there the Egyptians gained,

  One of the Roberts was nigh slain in field;

  The other by the Indian strong constrained

  To yield himself his captive and his slave;

  Thus equal loss and equal foil they have.

  LXXII

  Godfredo took the time and season fit

  To bring again his squadrons in array,

  And either camp well ordered, ranged and knit,

  Renewed the furious battle, fight and fray,

  New streams of blood were shed, new swords them hit;

  New combats fought, new spoils were borne away,

  And unresolved and doubtful, on each side,

  Did praise and conquest, Mars and Fortune ride.

  LXXIII

  Between the armies twain while thus the fight

  Waxed sharp, hot, cruel, though renewed but late,

  The Soldan clomb up to the tower’s height,

  And saw far off their strife and fell debate,

  As from some stage or theatre the knight

  Saw played the tragedy of human state,

  Saw death, blood, murder, woe and horror strange,

  And the great acts of fortune, chance, and change.

  LXXIV

  At first astonished and amazed he stood

  Then burnt with wrath, and self-consuming ire,

  Swelled his bosom like a raging flood,

  To be amid that battle; such desire,

  Such haste he had; he donned his helmet good,

  His other arms he had before entire,

  “Up, up!” he cried, “no more, no more, within

  This fortress stay, come follow, die or win.”

  LXXV

  Whether the same were Providence divine

  That made him leave the fortress he possessed,

  For that the empire proud of Palestine

  This day should fall, to rise again more blessed;

  Or that he breaking felt the fatal line

  Of life, and would meet death with constant breast,

  Furious and fierce he did the gates unbar,

  And sudden rage brought forth, and sudden war.

  LXXVI

  Nor stayed he till the folk on whom he cried

  Assemble might, but out alone he flies,

  A thousand foes the man alone defied,

  And ran among a thousand enemies:

  But with his fury called from every side,

  The rest run out, and Aladine forth hies,

  The cowards had no fear, the wise no care,

  This was not hope, nor courage, but despair.

  LXXVII

  The dreadful Turk with sudden blows down cast

  The first he met, nor gave them time to plain

  Or pray, in murdering them he made such haste

  That dead they fell ere one could see them slain;

  From mouth to mouth, from eye to eye forth passed

  The fear and terror, that the faithful train

  Of Syrian folk, not used to dangerous fight,

  Were broken, scattered, and nigh put to flight.

  LXXVIII

  But with less terror, and disorder less,

  The Gascoigns kept array, and kept their ground,

  Though most the loss and peril them oppress,

  Unwares assailed they were, unready found.

  No ravening tooth or talon hard I guess

  Of beast or eager hawk, doth slay and wound

  So many sheep or fowls, weak, feeble, small,

  As his sharp sword killed knights and soldiers tall.

  LXXIX

  It seemed his thirst and hunger ‘suage he would

  With their slain bodies, and their blood poured out,

  With him his troops and Aladino old

  Slew their besiegers, killed the Gascoign rout:

  But Raymond ran to meet the Soldan bold,

  Nor to encounter him had fear or doubt,

  Though his right hand by proof too well he know,

  Which laid him late for dead at one huge blow.

  LXXX

  They met, and Raymond fell amid the field,

  This blow again upon his forehead light,

  It was the fault and weakness of his eild,

  Age is not fit to bear strokes of such might,

  Each one lift up his sword, advanced his shield,

  Those would destroy, and these defend the knight.

  On went the Soldan, for the man he thought

  Was slain, or easily might be captive brought.

  LXXXI

 
Among the rest he ran, he raged, he smote,

  And in small space, small time, great wonders wrought

  And as his rage him led and fury hot,

  To kill and murder, matter new he sought:

  As from his supper poor with hungry throat

  A peasant hastes, to a rich feast ybrought;

  So from this skirmish to the battle great

  He ran, and quenched with blood his fury’s heat.

  LXXXII

  Where battered was the wall he sallied out,

  And to the field in haste and heat he goes,

  With him went rage and fury, fear and doubt

  Remained behind, among his scattered foes:

  To win the conquest strove his squadron stout,

  Which he unperfect left; yet loth to lose

  The day, the Christians fight, resist and die,

  And ready were to yield, retire and fly.

  LXXXIII

  The Gascoign bands retired, but kept array,

  The Syrian people ran away outright,

  The fight was near the place where Tancred lay,

  His house was full of noise and great affright,

  He rose and looked forth to see the fray,

  Though every limb were weak, faint, void of might;

  He saw the country lie, his men o’erthrown,

  Some beaten back, some killed, some felled down.

  LXXXIV

  Courage in noble hearts that ne’er is spent,

  Yet fainted not, though faint were every limb,

  But reinforced each member cleft and rent,

  And want of blood and strength supplied in him;

  In his left hand his heavy shield he hent,

  Nor seemed the weight too great, his curtlax trim

  His right hand drew, nor for more arms he stood

  Or stayed, he needs no more whose heart is good:

  LXXXV

  But coming forth, cried, “Whither will you run,

  And leave your leader to his foes in prey?

  What! shall these heathen of his armor won,

  In their vile temples hang up trophies gay?

  Go home to Gascoign then, and tell his son

  That where his father died, you ran away:”

  This said, against a thousand armed foes,

  He did his breast weak, naked, sick, oppose.

  LXXXVI

  And with his heavy, strong and mighty targe,

  That with seven hard bulls’ hides was surely lined,

  And strengthened with a cover thick and large

  Of stiff and well-attempered steel behind,

  He shielded Raymond from the furious charge,

  From swords, from darts, from weapons of each kind,

  And all his foes drove back with his sharp blade,

  That sure and safe he lay, as in a shade.

  LXXXVII

  Thus saved, thus shielded, Raymond ‘gan respire,

  He rose and reared himself in little space,

  And in his bosom burned the double fire