Jerusalem Delivered
Page 72
In dudgeon hath the froward stripling fled.
But I will prove, in absence of the youth,
Should any bring false charge behind his back,
Or wound his honour with malignant tooth,
He justly punished an unjust attack.
LIX.
‘Rightly from that vain vapourer, I say,
He shore the horns of his presumptuous pride;
But wrong he was thy ban to disobey:
In that alone he was not justified.’
He ceased, and Godfred said: ‘Well, let him go
And brawl elsewhere, but here we must have peace;
Nor must thou seed of farther quarrels sow:
j
For God’s sake, now, let all dissensions cease!’
LX.
Meanwhile the guilty traitress never ceased
For the assistance promised her to sue;
All day she entreated, and in practice placed
All that her beauty, wit, or art could do.
But when, extending her dusk livery,
Night in the west had curtained day from view,
Between two matrons and two esquires she
To her pavilion secretly withdrew.
LXI.
But although mistress of deceit, and though
Of winning manners and refined address,
And though so fair that Heaven did ne’er bestow
On mortal such exceeding loveliness,
So that the army’s most illustrious knights
She held by tie most strong and most secure;
Still, all her lures inviting to delights
Unable were the pious chief to lure.
LXII.
Vainly she tried his rigid heart to bend
To life of love by suicidal sweets;
For, as a bird when cloyed will not descend
To where the fowler offering food entreats;
World-sated, so, its pleasures frail the knight
Spurned, as by lonely path to heaven he toiled,
And all the snares that ‘gainst his upward flight
False Cupid set, his saint-like virtue foiled.
LXIII.
No obstacles could turn his thoughts aside
From the one path prescribed by God: still she
Countless new forms, countless devices tried,
A very Proteus she appeared to be;
Her witching manner and provocative smiles
Had wakened love within the coldest hearts,
But lost were here by grace Divine her wiles,
And more than useless her most artful arts.
LXIV.
The lovely maid who thought she could inflame
The chastest heart by twinkle of her eyes —
How mortified and crest-fallen she became,
And how o’ercome by spite and by surprise! —
Resolves her forces to direct at length
Where she may find resistance less severe:
E’en so abandons walls of too great strength
A baffled chief, and turns his arms elsewhere.
LXV.
But not less ‘gainst the enchantress’ arms and art
Tancredi did invulnerable prove:
Since other passion occupied his heart,
In it no place was for another love.
As poison poison neutralises, so
Did his old flame oppose all new desire:
These two alone succumbed not to the foe,
But more or less all others felt her fire.
LXVI.
Although lamenting that complete success
Had not attended her designs and art,
Still, as she did such noble spoil possess
Of famous heroes, she’s consoled in part,
And plans, ere knowledge of her frauds they gain,
Them to transport to safer regions, where
She may secure them with another chain
Than those soft silken ones that now they wear.
LXVII.
And as the period which the captain had
Fixed to assist her had arrived at last,
To him she reverently came and said:
‘The appointed day, sire, is already past,
And if the guilty tyrant heard by chance
I to thy arms had flown for succour, he
Would straight prepare his forces for defence,
Nor then so easy would the emprise be,
LXVIII.
‘Then, ere he heareth such important news
From Fame’s uncertain voice or certain spies,
From out thy bravest, let thy pity choose
Some few to aid me in this enterprise;
Since if just Heaven forget not innocence,
Nor with distorted eye man’s actions see,
I shall regain my kingdom, which will thence
In peace and war thy tributary be.’
LXIX.
Thus argued she. Unable to recede,
The captain gave assent to her request,
Although, she being impatient to proceed,
He saw the election with himself must rest
Each with unwonted instance urged his claim
To be admitted of the chosen band,
Whence the emulation that this roused in them
Made all importunate in their demand.
LXX.
She, who thus saw their inmost hearts exposed,
With them adopts another instrument,
And artfully the wretched sting imposed
Of jealousy, to scourge them and torment,
Knowing full well without such spur that love
Grows old and sluggish. So the crafty steed
With easy paces only deigns to move
If there be none that follow or precede.
LXXI.
Her subtle words she apportions in such guise,
To this a smile, to that a flattering leer,
That each the other views with envious eyes,
And hope ne’er dawns but chilled by jealous fear.
The frantic crowds of her admirers, who
By tricks of her deceitful face are ta’en,
O’erleap all bounds, all sense of shame eschew,
And even Godfred reprimands in vain.
LXXII.
He, who to satisfy them all desired,
Nor leaned to one more than another, though
Somewhat by shame and indignation fired,
To see his dukes such doting folly show;
Still, as they would not from their loadstar turn,
He to accord them fresh advice supplied:
‘Write down your names and place them in an urn,
And let Chance judge, and this your case decide.’
LXXIII.
At once each cavalier inscribed his name,
Which in the urn was placed and shaken o’er,
Then drawn by lot: when lo! the first that came
Was Pembroke’s noble earl, Artemidore.
Succeeding his, Gherardo’s name was read;
Then Vincilao’s came to his great joy,
He, who was erst so prudent and so staid,
Now, hoary lover, plays the love-sick boy.
LXXIV.
Oh! what delight these three first chosen show,
Their eyes how teeming with that ecstasy
Which from the full full heart doth overflow,
To find love favoured thus by Destiny.
The rest feel jealousy’s heart-scalding pang,
Whose names the tantalising urn conceals,
And on his lips in mute attention hang,
Who the scroll opens and the name reveals.
LXXV.
Guasco was fourth; Rodolpho him succeeds;
The next the Fates to Olderic award;
William Ronciglion after that he reads,
Then Henry, and Bavarian Everard;
Last was Rambaldo, he who later chose
> That faith to change he now to Christ professed
Has love such influence then? ) — This brings to a close
The ten agreed on, and excludes the rest.
LXXVI.
Burning with envy, rage, and jealousy,
The rest call Fortune unjust, and complain,
Hard-hearted Love, most bitterly of thee,
To let her arbitrate in thy domain.
But, as instinctively the human mind
That which is most forbidden most desires,
Many in spite of Fortune have designed
The maid to follow when heaven pales its fires
LXXVII.
Follow they will in sunshine and in shade,
And hazard life in battling for her rights;
The occasion seizing, unto this the maid
Them with sweet sighs and broken words invites,
And now with this and now with that doth grieve
That without him she must depart. Meanwhile,
Armed, the ten champions of the chief take leave,
Lured by the spell of her bewitching smile.
LXXVIII.
The sage minutely warns them ere they part
How false is Pagan honour and how light,
Their word how insecure, and with what art
Man should their snares and hostile purpose slight.
But scattered to the wind his precepts were,
For when did Love learn wisdom from the wise?
Them he dismissed at length, nor would the fair
Postpone her going even till sunrise.
LXXIX.
The conqueror goes, and with her leads along
The rival knights in her triumphant train,
And of her other lovers leaves the throng
To evils infinite. But when again
Dark night came forth and ‘neath her wings brought back
Silence profound and errant dreams renewed,
Many, as Love disposes them, the track
Of fair Armida furtively pursued.
LXXX.
First Eustace followed her; he scarcely stayed
E’en for the shroud of shadow-bearing night.
Through the thick gloom his way he quickly made,
A blind guide leading him in his blind flight;
All night he wandered in the genial air,
But when the sun’s life-giving radiance rose,
He spied Armida and her escort where
A burgh last night afforded them repose.
LXXXI.
Swiftly he flew to her: him by his crest
At once Rambaldo recognised, and cried:
‘Why comest here? of what art thou in quest?’
‘I come to join Armida,’ he replied,
‘Nor is there who will trustier service pay,
If she disdain me not nor disapprove.’
Rambaldo then: ‘And to such honour, say,
Who has elected you?’ He answered: ‘Love!
LXXXII.
‘Me Love elected, random Fortune thee:
Which is more fitting arbiter to choose?’
Rambaldo said: ‘Thou dost but prove to me
Thy title false, and useless tactics use;
Nor with the lawful champions of the maid
Canst thou presume to mix, unlawful knight.’
Provoked at this, the impetuous stripling said:
‘And who’ll prevent me or deny my right?’
LXXXIII.
‘I will,’ Rambaldo fearlessly replied,
And dashed against his rival at the word.
No less impatience Eustace testified,
And with like eagerness unsheathed his sword.
But their soul’s tyrant rushed between the two
With outstretched hand their anger to restrain;
To one, ‘Ah grieve not,’ she exclaimed, ‘that you
Another comrade, I a champion gain.
LXXXIV.
If you desire my safety, why deprive
Me of fresh succour in this urgent strait?’
To Eustace: ‘Opportunely you arrive
To guard my honour and avert my fate.
Unreasonable ‘twere that I prevent
Such friends from coming, or their aid disclaim.’
As thus she spoke and on her journey went,
From various quarters various champions came.
LXXXV.
From here, from there, unknown to each they came,
Each sourly scowling at the other. She
Welcomed them all, and showed to all the same
Delight once more her gallant friends to see;
But when the dawn had night’s dark shadows cleared,
Godfred at once of their departure knew;
His mind, prophetic of misfortune, feared
The untold evils that might thence ensue.
LXXXVI.
Him, as he mused, a herald stood before,
Travel-stained, breathless, and of mournful mien,
Resembling one that bitter tidings bore,
On whose sad forehead the sad news was seen.
‘O prince,’ he said, ‘soon, soon upon these seas
Egypt’s immense armada will appear!
From William, who commands the Genoese
Fleet, this intelligence to thee I bear.’
LXXXVII.
He added, ‘that a convoy from the fleet,
While stores escorting for the camp’s supplies
With camels and well-laden horse, did meet,
Midway from thence, a terrible surprise,
The guards being slain or prisoners made; that not
‘Scaped of their force a single cavalier,
Arabian robbers, in a lonely spot,
Having attacked them in the front and rear.
LXXXVIII.
‘And that the license and unbridled force
Of these barbarians has become so great,
That like a torrent which o’erleaps its course
And finds no check, they gather and dilate.
Whence, to strike terror in those lawless bands,
‘Twere well some squadrons from the host to send,
And so secure the roads that from the sands
Of Syria’s seabord to the camp extend.’
LXXXIX.
From tongue to tongue alarming rumours fly,
And in a moment through the army spread.
The thoughts of famine that appears so nigh
The vulgar fill with overwhelming dread.
The observant chief, who with profound dismay
How drooped their wonted confidence had seen,
Sought to console and chase their fears away
By hopeful words and reassuring mien.
XC.
‘Ye, who such countless perils have passed o’er
In various distant latitudes with me;
Champions of Christ! created to restore
The many losses of Christianity;
Who Persia’s arms and Greece’s snares of yore,
Seas, storms, cold, mountain passes overcame;
Who the dire pangs of thirst and hunger bore;
What! are you frightened now? — for shame! for shame!
XCI.
‘What! doth not God, who leads you with such care,
As in severer trials has been proved,
Assure your spirits? or hath He elsewhere
His clement arm and countenance removed?
Soon your past toils ye will with joy recall,
When at His shrine your promised vows ye pay;
Meanwhile bear up with courage, and let all
Reserve themselves for that triumphant day.’
XCII.
By such like words, and by his looks serene,
He cheered their ‘wildered spirits, and repressed
A thousand sick and carking cares within
The deep recesses of his anxious breast:
How best suc
h various nations to maintain
‘Mid loss and scarcity; how Egypt’s fleet
Oppose successfully upon the main,
And how the Arab plunderers defeat.
CANTO VI.
I.
But brighter hopes console and reassure
The drooping hearts of the beleaguered side;
Since, besides all their stores, at night’s obscure
They were with other aliments supplied.
Northwards they had with engines fortified,
And war’s most formidable arms, the walls:
Which thus increased in height and strength, defied
The shock of rams and strokes of flying balls.
II.
Nor ceased the king to make them still upraise
The walls around and outworks fortify;
Or by the golden sun’s effulgent rays,
Or when the moon and stars lit up the sky.
Forging new arms no rest the armourer knows,
For ever sweating with incessant stroke.
But while preparing, scornful of repose,
Arganté sought the monarch, and thus spoke:
III.
‘And pray, how long, cooped up in jail like this,
Must we endure a slow disgraceful siege?
I hear indeed the glowing anvils hiss,
And ring of corslet, casque, and shield, my liege,
But see not to what use. These robbers prance
At their free will through all the burghs and plains;
Nor is there one dare check their bold advance,
Or break their slumbers with the clarion’s strains.
IV.
‘Ne’er interrupted by unseemly fights
Are their gay suppers or rich banquets; nay,
Unbroken days and unmolested nights
They pass in calm security away.
But you by famine overcome, I fear,
In the long run will fall an easy prey,
Or like base cowards rot ignobly here,
Should Egypt more her promised aid delay.
V.
‘I, for my part, will not ignoble doom
My glory shroud; nor me another day
Within these gates, as in a living tomb,
The lustre of another sun survey;
With this my life let Destiny do all
That is already ‘stablished in the sky,
But unrevenged at least I will not fall,
Nor without drawing the sword, dishonoured, die.
VI.
‘But were all sparks of your accustomed might
Extinguished not within your hearts, I see
Not death in open, honourable fight,
But certain hope of life and victory.
Firm and resolved then ‘gainst these plunderers,
And against Fate itself, let us contest,
Since oft in greatest danger it occurs
That most audacious counsels are the best.
VII.
‘But deem’st thou ‘twere too great temerity