Jerusalem Delivered

by Torquato Tasso

  The others had submitted to that prince,

  Who had much more achieved and more things seen;

  Sedate, and past his manhood’s prime, he shows,

  Tho’ grey, that in him still fresh sap abounds,

  And scars imprinted on his brow disclose

  The noble marks of no ignoble wounds.

  LIV

  Eustace is ‘mong the foremost: his own worth

  Makes him renowned, his brother Godfrey more.

  Gemando, too, Norwegian prince by birth,

  Who vaunts his titles, coronets, and power.

  Undying Fame gives Balnavilla place,

  And Engerlan, amid the noblest there;

  And ‘mong the bravest that the squadron grace,

  Gentonio, Rambald, and two Gerards are.

  LV

  Ubaldo and Rosmondo are much praised,

  Of Lancaster’s proud duchy the proud heir;

  Nor shall Obizzo’s gallant name be razed

  By envious time, that would no memories spare;

  Nor the three Lombard brothers be concealed,

  Achilles, Sforza, and bold Palamed;

  Nor Otho, who by conquest gained the shield,

  Where the child issues from the dragon’s head.

  LVI

  Nor can! Guasco nor Rodolph pass by,

  Nor one or other Guido — famous both;

  And Guernier and Everard ungratefully

  To leave in nameless silence I am loth.

  Edward, Gildippe, whither force you me,

  Tired with this record, O uxorious pair?

  In death you shall not disunited be,

  That were united even in the war.

  LVII

  What learn we not among the schools of Love?

  There she was taught to be a soldier, whom

  Nothing from her dear husband can remove,

  And both their lives hang on one single doom;

  Blow never falls that injures only one,

  Or can the other from its pain exclude:

  She prostrate falls when he is stricken down,

  And he pours forth his soul if she her blood.

  LVIII

  But beyond all that formed that brilliant show

  Is young Rinaldo — none with him can vie;

  He raises sweetly fierce his regal brow,

  And fixed on him alone is every eye.

  Outstripping age and hope, but scarce appear

  The flowers, than they to fruit mature give place

  Armed cap-à-pie, to see him charge, you’d swear

  ’Twas fiery Mars; Cupid to see his face.

  LIX

  Him to Bertholdo fair Sophia bore,

  Upon the Adige’s banks, their native nest —

  Sophia to Bertholdo; but before

  He as a child was taken from the breast,

  Matilda took him, brought him up, and taught

  In every princely art, and there he stayed,

  Till the trump, pealing in the orient, caught

  His ear and led him to the great Crusade.

  LX

  Then, nor three lustres could the stripling boast,

  He fled alone by unknown ways, and passed

  The Egean billows and the Grecian coast,

  And reached the camp in distant lands at last.

  Most noble flight! which rare example set

  For imitation by his noble kin.

  This is the third year that he wars, and yet

  Scarce blooms the down upon his boyish chin.

  LXI

  The horse now passed, marched past the infantry,

  Raimondo at their head — he ruled Toulouse,

  And from the Pyrenees, between the sea

  And the broad Garonne, his division chose;

  In all four thousand, armed and smartly drilled,

  Who used to hardships and most patient are —

  A gallant race; nor could a chief more skilled,

  Or more intrepid, lead them to the war.

  LXII

  But Stephen of Amboise, of Blois, and Tours,

  Leads to the holy war five thousand on:

  A race that cannot much fatigue endure,

  Tho’ in the pomp of fulgent steel they shone.

  The country like itself produces men,

  And these, like theirs, are joyous, soft, and gay;

  In the first shock they fiercely charge, and then

  Faint in the fight, grow slack, and soon give way.

  LXIII

  Alcasto comes the third. Such lowering face

  Of yore had Capaneus when threatening Thebes.

  Six thousand Swiss — a bold and hardy race —

  From the Alps he brings. The steel which once broke

  glebes

  Or turned the fallow furrow with its share,

  They to new shapes had turned for nobler things;

  And the rude hand that erst of flocks took care,

  Now hurls defiance fearlessly at kings.

  LXIV

  Beneath the lofty standard’s outstretched wings,

  That bears St Peter’s diadem and keys,

  With him seven thousand foot Camillus brings,

  Glistering in armour, from across the seas.

  O’erjoy’d, Heaven chose him for an emprise, where

  He might renew his ancestors’ renown,

  And prove that if his Latin soldiers were

  Wanting in aught, ’twas discipline alone.

  LXV

  Now all the squadrons had marched past him, all

  In order of review, this being the last,

  When Godfrey sent the leading chiefs to call,

  And to them said, as round him they were massed:

  ‘My orders are, the host move swiftly down, ‘

  Soon as to-morrow’s dawn regilds the east,

  So as to reach the consecrated town

  Early as possible, when looked for least.

  LXVI

  ‘Prepare then for the march, and for the fight;

  Nay more, my friends, prepare for victory.’

  Language so bold, from such a cautious knight,

  Inspired each soldier with fresh energy:

  All are prepared to march when dawn appears,

  Nor from impatience can get any rest;

  But provident Bouillon is not without fears,

  Though close he locked them in his silent breast;

  LXVII

  Since he had from reliable report,

  Heard Egypt’s king was posted in the line

  Of Gaza’s walls — a fine commanding fort,

  Built to o’erawe the power of Palestine —

  And scarce could deem that one, accustomed so

  To deeds of bloodshed, would remain at rest.

  Thinking in him to find a bitter foe,

  His faithful herald, Henry, he addressed:

  LXVIII

  ‘With all despatch, I want thee to repair,

  In a light pinnace, to the coast of Greece,

  Where should arrive (thus writes me one who ne’er

  Errs in his judgment, or gives false advice),

  A royal youth of most undaunted soul,

  Who seeks to join us in our great emprise;

  Prince of the Danes, from regions near the pole,

  He leads a numerous band as our allies.

  LXIX

  ‘But, since the false Greek emperor may chance

  On him to practise his accustomed arts,

  To urge him back, or turn his bold advance,

  Unto, from us remote, outlandish parts;

  Do thou, my herald and adviser true,

  Dispose him in my name, to that which may

  Profit us both. Tell him to hasten too,

  Since quite unworthy were the least delay.

  LXX

  ‘Return thou not with him, but there remain

  With the Greek monarch, to procure his aid,

  Which he has pr
omised o’er and o’er again,

  And which is due by force of treaties made.’

  Thus spoke and charged his envoy, who, at eve,

  Soon as he had his lord’s credentials got,

  Straight hastened his departure and took leave,

  And wearied Godfrey made a truce with thought.

  LXXI

  The following mom, as soon as opened were

  The lucid orient’s portals to the sun,

  The crash of drums and trumpets shook the air,

  And to the march urged every soldier on.

  Less welcome far the sound, in summer’s heat,

  Of rumbling thunder, big with hopes of rain,

  Than was, to those stout-hearted legions, sweet

  The haughty summons of that warlike strain.

  LXXII

  Straightway inflamed with strong religious zeal,

  Each with his wonted arms his limbs protects:

  Straightway appear bright groups of flashing steel,

  As each Crusader ‘neath his chief collects.

  The marshalled hosts then joined, in gallant show

  Their every banner to the breeze unloose,

  And in the grand imperial standard, lo!

  To Heaven streams proudly the triumphant Cross.

  LXXIII

  Meanwhile the sun, that in celestial fields

  Rolls ever onwards, and ascends on high,

  Their armour strikes, and from swords, helms, and shields,

  Draws such fierce lightning that it blinds the eye.

  With sparks the atmosphere appears to blaze

  In one vast conflagration, and the sound

  Of clanking iron blends with rampant neighs,

  Whose deafening clangour stuns the country round.

  LXXIV

  The captain, to protect from ambuscade

  His gallant legions, had detached a band

  Of numerous horsemen, lightly armed, and bade

  Them scour the circuit of the neighbouring land;

  And in advance sent pioneers of skill,

  The roads from all impediments to free,

  To lay hills plain, fell woods, and valleys fill,

  And that all passes closed might opened be.

  LXXV

  There is no Pagan host together bound,

  No sweeping flood, dense wood, nor mountain crest,

  No wall encircled by a moat profound,

  That can the Christians’ onward march arrest

  Thus doth at times the mighty king of streams

  O’erleap his banks with irresistible force,

  As beyond measure swoln he proudly teems,

  Nor is there aught that dare oppose his course.

  LXXVI

  Alone the king of Tripoli, perchance,

  With arms, men, treasure, under bolt and bar,

  Might have delayed the Christian host’s advance,

  But dared not venture upon open war.

  Nay, entertained them freely on his lands,

  And both by gifts and embassies appeased,

  Accepting terms of peace at Godfrey’s hands,

  Such as to impose the pious captain pleased.

  LXXVII

  Here from Mount Seir, which to the orient rears (I)

  Its lofty head, and dominates the town,

  Crowds of the faithful, from the tenderest years

  Up to extreme old age, came flocking down,

  Rejoiced to see the Christian conqueror,

  Whom they conversed with, and with stores supplied,

  Nor failed to admire the arms the strangers wore.

  From them Prince Godfrey had a friendly guide.

  LXXVII

  Ever in hearing of the billows’ roar,

  By paths direct he led the banded host,

  Well knowing that along the adjacent shore,

  To give assistance friendly vessels coast,

  Which could the camp fully provided keep

  With necessary stores, and cause that wheat

  Each isle in Greece for him alone did reap,

  Their vintage stony Scio and fair Crete.

  LXXIX

  Beneath the weight of ships and lighter pines

  The waters groan, so that no longer free

  Passage is open for the Saracens,

  Throughout the wide Mediterranean sea.

  Besides the bottoms of Saints George and Mark,

  Armed by Venetians and the Genoese,

  England and France sent many a gallant bark,

  And Holland, and the fertile Sicilies.

  LXXX

  And these, which were in closest union bound

  Together by one will, from various lands

  Came freighted deeply, and most amply found,

  With all things needful for terrestrial bands;

  Who, finding to dispute their path no foe,

  And all the passes on the frontiers free,

  With beating hearts and speed redoubled, go

  To where Christ suffered mortal agony.

  LXXXI

  But Fame precedes them, bearing in her flight

  A host of true and lying rumours: how

  Haply the conquering Paladins unite —

  Have marched — nor is there can oppose them now —

  What and how strong the squadrons are, portrays

  The bravest names, their valour and renown —

  Relates their vaunts, and with terrific gaze

  The usurpers threatens of the holy town.

  LXXXII

  Anticipation of impending ill

  Is worse perhaps than the ill itself to bear,

  As in suspense its victims hang, and still

  Catch at each doubtful blast, each breath of air.

  Outside and in the dolorous city ran

  Confused reports and whispers; on his part

  The king, with peril thus impending, ‘gan

  To brood dark schemes in his misgiving heart.

  LXXXIII

  This aged prince, called Aladine, now spent

  In his new realm a life of constant fears;

  Most cruel once, but his ferocious bent

  Was somewhat softened by increasing years.

  He having heard the Christians had designed

  To storm the ramparts that his town inclose,

  New doubts, mistrustful, with old fears combined,

  Fearing his subjects no less than his foes.

  LXXXIV

  Since in one city mixed together, lived

  Two races of a faith most opposite,

  The weak and lesser part in Christ believed,

  The greater and the strong in Mahomet;

  But when the king first gained the holy town

  And there resolved to fix his royal seat,

  The public dues he lessened for his own,

  And on the wretched Franks heaped all the weight.

  LXXXV

  This thought inflaming his ferocity,

  Now cold and torpid from old age, renewed

  And aggravated it to such degree

  That more than ever he’s athirst for blood.

  Ferocious thus in summer’s heat becomes

  That which in winter seemed a harmless snake;

  Thus a tamed lion his wild rage resumes

  If any dare his inborn fury wake.

  LXXXVI

  ‘I see among these followers of the Cross,’

  He cried, ‘true signs of new-born joy, and while

  We mourn, they glory in the general loss;

  Sole ‘mid our common grief they seem to smile.

  It may be, hatching snares and treacheries,

  Each how to kill me in his mind debates;

  Or how to Godfrey and his Frank allies

  Unbar with secrecy the city’s gates.

  LXXXVII

  ‘But they shall not: their plans I will forestall,

  And to my long pent rancour give full sway.

  I’ll make one
common slaughter of them all,

  Babes at their mother’s breast this hand shall slay;

  I’ll burn their dwellings, nor their temples spare:

  These for the dead shall be a fitting tomb,

  And ‘mid their vows, in that their sepulchre

  The priests shall be the first to meet their doom!

  LXXXVIII

  Thus in his heart the villain planned, nor dared

  To thought so ill-imagined give effect;

  And if at length the innocent he spared,

  His purpose cowardice, not pity, checked:

  Since if one terror makes him pitiless,

  A stronger still restrains him and alarms:

  He dreads to cut off every chance of peace,

  Or rouse too much his foe’s victorious arms.

  LXXXIX

  His gall, therefore, the enfeloned craven reins,

  And seeks elsewhere to vent his rabid ire:

  The rustics’ huts he levels, and the plains,

  And waving cornfields gives a prey to fire.

  No part he leaves entire, uninjured, where

  Shelter or food the Frank may find; nor saves

  A single fount, nor doth a river spare,

  But with foul poison taints the spotless waves.

  XC

  Though cruel, cautious, he with providence

  Forgets not Salem’s safety to ensure:

  On three sides perfect was the town’s defence.

  Northwards alone ’twas somewhat less secure.

  But, from his first misgivings, to repair

  Its weaker side the king had given commands,

  And with all speed large hosts assembled there

  Of subject troops and mercenary bands.

  CANTO II.

  I

  WHILE the fell tyrant thus prepared for arms,

  To him Ismene came alone one day;

  Ismene, who from the grave can raise by charms

  The dead, and animate inanimate clay;

  Ismene, who by mere sound of muttered spell,

  Makes Pluto tremble in his dark domains,

  And as his slaves employs the imps of hell

  In his foul work, and chains them and unchains.

  II

  A Christian once, he now to Mahomet bows,

  But cannot from his former rites refrain —

  Nay, oft both laws, of which he little knows,

  Confounds in uses impious and profane;

  And now from caves where he was wont to frame

  Far from man’s eye his unknown arts, in the hour

  Of public risk to Aladine he came,

  To wicked king more wicked counsellor.

  III

  ‘My liege, the dreaded host victorious

  Comes, without check it comes,’ the wizard said;

  ‘Do we our duty as behoveth us,

  And Heaven and earth will give the valiant aid.

  Thou dost the parts of king and captain fill

  Most nobly, all things see to and foresee: