Jerusalem Delivered

by Torquato Tasso

  ‘And since the laws of modesty and zeal

  Urge my departure, whither shall I fly,

  Where seek asylum, or myself conceal

  From the fierce tyrant? Not beneath the sky

  A spot so secret does the world contain,

  But opes to gold; why then delay should I?

  Death faces me, and if escape is vain,

  Death I will meet, and by my own hand die.’

  LXXIV.

  She ceased: a haughty and magnanimous scorn

  Seemed to light up the lovely suppliant’s face,

  And as her heel gave signal of return,

  Grief and disdain in every move they trace;

  Her tears in torrents unobstructed flowed,

  Such as from sorrow blent with anger run,

  And on her lids the rising tear-drops glowed

  Like pearls and crystals glistering in the sun.

  LXXV.

  Her cheeks, besprinkled with those living showers

  That from her bosom trickled to her feet,

  Appeared like snowy and vermilion flowers,

  With the bright pearls of sparkling May-dew wet,

  Which, when Aurora first appears, unfold

  Their closed-up petals to the jocund air,

  And the dawn looking from her throne of gold,

  Longs to enwreathe their treasures in her hair.

  LXXVI.

  But the clear drops that in such ceaseless flow,

  Her lovely cheeks and snowy breast adorn,

  Produce the effect of subtle fires that glow

  In breasts of thousands, and concealed there, burn.

  O miracle! that Love draws sparks from tears,

  And can by water hearts inflame; alas!

  He over nature aye the mastery bears,

  But through her beauty doth himself surpass.

  LXXVII.

  This counterfeited grief from many eyes

  Draws real tears, and melts the hardest heart;

  Each is affected, and within him cries,

  ‘If aid Prince Godfred doth not now impart,

  Surely fierce tigress was his nurse, and he

  ‘Mid Alpine crags of flinty stone was born,

  Or ‘mid the foaming billows of the sea;

  Cruel! to let such beauty vainly mourn.’

  LXXVIII.

  But youthful Eustace, in whose heart the flame

  Of love and pity greater warmth awoke,

  While others whisper, nor their thoughts proclaim,

  Stept proudly forward and thus boldly spoke:

  ‘My liege and brother, thy unswerving breast

  Too closely to its first intent adheres,

  Thus to refuse the wishes of the rest,

  Nor yield a little to our common prayers.

  LXXIX.

  ‘I do not say that chiefs, upon whom falls

  The care of subject hosts of soldiery,

  Should turn their backs on these beleaguered walls,

  Or that their duties should neglected be;

  But among us Adventurers, who bear

  No personal charge, and are less bound by laws,

  ‘Twere well befitting thy imperial care

  To choose ten champions in so just a cause.

  LXXX.

  ‘Still in the service of his God he toils,

  Who draws his sword the guiltless to defend,

  And in His sight how precious are the spoils

  That, wrung from slaughtered tyrants, we suspend.

  But though I put completely out of sight

  The advantage that this emprise had repaid,

  Still duty calls me: I were recreant knight,

  E’er to refuse a helpless damsel aid.

  LXXXI.

  ‘And Heaven forbid it were proclaimed in France,

  Or where’er else are valued honour’s laws,

  That, false knights, we refused to break a lance

  In such a sacred and so just a cause!

  I, for my part, cast helm and mail aside,

  My stainless sword ungird, for I will ne’er

  Unworthily bear arms or steed bestride,

  Or more usurp the name of cavalier.’

  LXXXII.

  Thus spake, and all the ranks of chivalry,

  Deeming his counsel worthy and most meet,

  Shout loud assent, and with concordant cry,

  Press round the captain and his grace entreat.

  ‘I yield,’ he said at length, ‘nor can refuse

  Where all with such unanimous voice combine;

  Let her obtain this favour, if you choose,

  From your opinion, since opposed is mine.

  LXXXIII.

  ‘But if ye still to Godfred’s voice give heed,

  Temper your transports, nor thus wildly rave.’

  Nor uttered more — enough ’twas to concede —

  All were contented with the boon he gave.

  What cannot thus fair woman’s tears obtain,

  What the sweet accents of her siren tongue?

  From beauty’s lips proceeds a golden chain

  That in its trammels fetters old and young.

  LXXXIV.

  Eustace at this recalled the lovely maid.

  ‘Thy sorrow cease,’ he said, ‘and dry thy tears,

  Since we will give thee such immediate aid

  As seems most needful to dispel thy fears.’

  At once Armida’s cloudy looks subside,

  While such a sunny smile her aspect warms,

  That, as her eyes with her fair veil she dried,

  The heavens became enamoured of her charms.

  LXXXV.

  She then returned, in sweet and gentle tone,

  Thanks for such ample measure of their grace,

  Saying it should to the whole world be known,

  And in her heart retain a lasting place.

  Her looks with voiceless eloquence revealed

  All that her tongue failed fully to express,

  And so her thoughts beneath false face concealed,

  That there were none suspected the princess.

  LXXXVI.

  Seeing thence that Fortune with benignant smiles

  This her first trial of deception viewed,

  She, dreading interruption to her wiles,

  The wicked work determines to conclude,

  And more performs by witchcraft of her eyes

  Than Circe or Medæa did of old,

  And with her voice’s siren melodies

  The most sagacious intellects cajoled.

  LXXXVII.

  All means the fair enchantress doth embrace

  By which to draw new lovers to her snares,

  Nor keeps with all or always the same face,

  But a changed aspect opportunely wears;

  A close collected look now chastely keeps,

  Now darts a wandering and voluptuous glance;

  These, too retiring, with the lash she whips,

  And reins back those, too swift in their advance.

  LXXXVIII.

  If she sees any from her love retire,

  Their thoughts restraining from timidity,

  She unmasks her smiles and on them opes the fire

  Of her destructive eyes’ artillery.

  The backward thus with courage she inspires,

  Assures the doubtful with fresh marks of cheer,

  Inflaming thence their amorous desires,

  Her burning glances thaw the frost of fear.

  LXXXIX.

  To others, who o’erstep the boundaries,

  By Cupid’s blind adventurous guidance led,

  Sparing she is of her dear words and eyes,

  And frowns them into deference and dread;

  Still through her clouded brow and scornful air

  A ray of soft compassionate pity gleams,

  Whence, though abashed, they do not quite despair,

  And burn the most when she most haughty
seems.

  — by

  XC.

  At times she leaves the crowd of cavaliers,

  Settling her manner and her face to feign

  A mournful look, and often draws the tears

  Up to her eyes, then drives them back again,

  Nor fails unnumbered simpletons to move

  By these beguiling, these deceitful arts;

  In pity’s flame thus tempering shafts of love,

  With such strong arms she pierces all their hearts.

  XCI.

  Then as if all such gloomy thoughts had gone,

  And fresh new hopes were wakened in her breast,

  On her fair forehead joy rekindled shone,

  And, turning back, her lovers she addressed,

  While, like twin suns, flash forth in full display

  Her sunny glance and her celestial smile,

  To chase the dark, dense clouds of grief away,

  In which their hearts she had involved erewhile.

  XCII.

  But while she sweetly smiles and sweetly speaks,

  And doubly thus intoxicates the sense,

  To quit its home the ecstatic spirit seeks,

  Unused before to rapture so intense.

  Ah, cruel tyrant, Love! how equally.

  Thy bitter wormwood and sweet honey kill;

  Deadly the ailment and the remedy

  With which thou seek’st to cure that cureless ill.

  XCIII.

  Thus by such opposite means, ‘twixt ice and fires,

  ‘Twixt joy and sorrow, between hopes and fears,

  The fair deceiver kindles their desires,

  And aye inconstant at their anguish jeers.

  If any dare with trembling voice the pains,

  The heart-felt pains that torture him, express,

  To be a novice in love’s way she feigns,

  Nor at the meaning of his words to guess.

  XCIV.

  Or meekly casting down her eyes from him,

  Colours her cheeks with such shame-conscious grace

  As to conceal the rath and snowy rime

  Beneath the roses that now flush her face,

  Like those that in the glowing east proclaim

  In earliest, freshest hours Aurora’s birth;

  Confounded so, and blent with maiden shame,

  Shot the red flashes of her anger forth.

  XCV.

  If she sees one that by his manner strives

  His burning passion to reveal, she flies;

  Then to console him, means of speaking gives,

  And, with the breath that promises, denies.

  Thus tired, and all his expectations crossed,

  In a blind maze she leads him round all day,

  And he remains like hunter who has lost

  At eve all traces of his hunted prey.

  XCVI.

  These were the arts by which she made such swarms

  The subtle influence of her empire prove;

  Nay, rather, were the irresistible arms

  That them enchained as bondslaves to her love.

  What marvel, then, that fierce Achilles was,

  That Hercules and Theseus were Love’s spoil,

  If even those who fight in Jesu’s cause

  Are caught at times in his entangling toil?

  CANTO V.

  I.

  WHILE to her love the insidious siren lured

  The cavaliers, in such seductive guise,

  Nor had alone the promised ten secured,

  But in addition, to steal others tries;

  Within himself the anxious chief demurs,

  To whom the emprise entrust, with her for guide,

  Since the great worth of the Adventurers,

  And wish of each, much room for choice supplied.

  II.

  But he at length with cautious ken decreed

  That freely from their body they should make

  Choice of a chief, Dudoné to succeed,

  Who the selection on himself might take;

  Thus cause of jealousy he would not sow,

  By interfering with their will; nay, more.

  He would his high appreciation show

  (Their rightful due) of that illustrious corps.

  III.

  He called them therefore to his tent, and said:

  ‘Ye all have heard my sentiments, which were

  Not to refuse this injured damsel aid,

  But it to season more mature defer.

  This I again propose, and well ye may

  My counsels follow, by experience bought

  Since in this world, which changes every day,

  Unchangeableness is often change of thought.

  IV.

  ‘But if ye deem from danger to abstain

  Would ill become your order; if your bold

  And chivalrous temperaments disdain

  Counsel that seems too cautious and too cold.

  Far be it from me to keep you ‘gainst your will,

  Or to retract my promise given as knight.

  No; be it mine my duties to fulfil

  Towards you with rein most gentle and most light.

  V.

  ‘I give you leave to stay or to proceed;

  This must depend upon your own free will;

  But first your slain commander to succeed,

  Elect one worthy that high post to fill

  Let him select the ten; but on no plea

  Can I permit him to exceed the ten.

  In this I hold to my authority,

  Nor in aught else will I his powers restrain.’

  VI.

  Thus Godfred spake; and all consenting, thus

  His brother Eustace for the rest replied:

  ‘As caution provident and scrupulous

  Becoming is, O captain, on thy side,

  So hands to do, no less than hearts to dare,

  Is, as our due, required from us: advice,

  And well-weighed scruples that in others are

  Prevision just, in us were cowardice.

  VII.

  ‘And since the hazard is so trifling, when

  With the advantage in the balance weighed,

  With thy permission the selected ten

  Will march to the honoured emprise with the maid.’

  He thus concluded, and his secret fire

  With specious artifice to cover strove

  ‘Neath knightly zeal; and others feigned desire

  For honour, that was but desire of love.

  VIII.

  But younger Buglion, who, with envious eye,

  Looked on Rinaldo, fair Sofia’s son,

  And all his virtues viewed invidiously,

  Since in a form so beautiful they shone,

  Wished him away; for subtle jealousy

  Inspired most cautious feelings in his heart:

  Whence, drawing aside his dangerous rival, he

  Addressed him thus with all a flatterer’s art:

  IX.

  ‘O greater son of an illustrious sire,

  That, boy, hast gained such great repute in war,

  Who to the leadership may dare aspire

  Of that bold band, of which a part we are?

  I, who could scarcely to Dudoné stoop,

  And that in virtue of his age alone,

  To whom can I submit to of our troop?

  I, Godfred’s brother — save to thee, see none.

  X.

  ‘As noble as the noblest thou art born,

  And in renown bear’st off the palm from me,

  Nor would himself the greater Buglion scorn

  To be as knight inferior deemed to thee.

  Thee, then, as leader for our troop I claim,

  If careless thou to be this Syrian’s knight.

  Nor can I think Rinaldo values fame

  Won in the dim obscurity of night,

  XI.

  ‘Here is not wanting a more open spot

/>   With clearer light thy valour to reflect;

  And I will cause, if thou refusest not,

  That the others thee to that high post elect;

  But as I am doubtful still, nor know which way

  To bend my wavering and irresolute heart,

  I claim the privilege with thee to stay,

  Or with Armida, at my choice, depart.’

  XII.

  Here Eustace ceased, nor, as he thus appealed,

  Could keep his cheeks from crimsoning the while.

  Rinaldo saw his thoughts thus ill concealed

  Beneath his blushes, which drew forth a smile;

  But since on him Love’s arrows fell more slow,

  Nor more than skin deep had incised his breast,

  He did not jealous of a rival grow,

  Nor cared the maid to follow with the rest

  XIII.

  Deeply was graved in his tenacious heart

  The fate that him of his dear friend deprived.

  He deemed it foul dishonour on his part,

  That for so long Arganté had survived;

  Still he both heard with pleasure and with pride

  The call that would him to such honour raise,

  And his young heart was joyed and gratified

  By the sweet sounds of that veracious praise.

  XIV.

  Whence he replied: ‘Exalted station I

  Would rather much more merit than obtain,

  Nor envy that, if raised by virtue high,

  Others hold lofty posts and rule and reign.

  But at the call of honour, if you deem

  That place my due, I will not stand aloof;

  Well pleased I should be that ye all esteem

  My worthiness by such convincing proof.

  XV.

  ‘That post I neither seek, then, nor reject —

  If given me: of the ten thou shalt be one.’

  Him Eustace leaves determined to subject

  His gallant comrades’wishes to his own;

  But to that place Gernando urged his claim,

  For, though Armida pierced him with Love’s dart,

  Less power had woman’s smiles than thirst of fame,

  To gain ascendance o’er his haughty heart.

  XVI.

  From Norway’s monarchs, who o’er many lands

  Dominion held, Gemando traced descent,

  And all the princely titles and commands

  Of his proud ancestry his pride augment.

  Rinaldo vaunts his own deserts before

  All his departed forefathers had done,

  Though they for full five hundred years and more.

  In peace and war had equal glory won.

  XVII.

  But this barbarian potentate, who weighed

  By power and gold his estimate of things,

  And deemed all excellence obscured by shade,

  Unless ennobled by the blood of kings,

  Could not endure that for the post he sought,

  Rinaldo strove in merit with him; nay,