Jerusalem Delivered

by Torquato Tasso

  And do I love him still, false, fickle Giaour!

  And unrevenged sit here and still lament?

  LXIII

  ‘But wherefore weep? have I not other arts

  And other means? The wretch I will pursue.

  Not hell’s abyss, not heaven’s most secret parts,

  Shall screen the unpitying monster from his due.

  I seize him now, his heart to atoms tear,

  His limbs hang up, dire warning to convey:

  I would surpass his cruelty. But where,

  But where am I? What is it, alas! I say?

  LXIV

  ‘Thou shouldst, Armide, have wreaked thy cruelty

  Upon that cruel who deserved this fate,

  When him thou heldest in captivity;

  But now thy new-born anger comes too late.

  Still, if my charms, my wit, can something do,

  My settled purpose shall not be in vain.

  Ah, slighted beauty! it becomes thy due,

  Since thine the wrong, full vengeance to obtain.

  LXV

  ‘This, then, my beauty the reward shall be

  Of him who cleaves his execrable head;

  My gallant lovers, I demand that ye

  Perform a daring, but a glorious deed;

  I, who of ample riches am the heir,

  In guerdon of revenge, will give my heart,

  And if unworthy such a price to bear,

  Beauty! a vain and worthless gift thou art.

  LXVI

  ‘Ill-omened gift, I thee repudiate;

  I loathe my birth, and that I still survive;

  To be the mockery of a queen, I hate;

  Alone in hope of sweet revenge I live,’

  In broken words thus stormed the excited fair,

  Then turned her steps from the deserted place,

  Showing her frantic fury and despair

  In her wild eyes, loose locks, and burning face.

  LXVII

  Her palace reached, with dreadful voice she hailed

  Three hundred Stygian imps. At once begun

  The heavens to cloud, and in a moment paled

  The aspect of the great eternal sun;

  A furious whirlwind struck the mountain chains,

  Beneath her feet out-bellowed rampant hell,

  While echoed thro’ the extent of her domains,

  Howls, hisses, barks, in one unpitying yell.

  LXVIII

  Shades blacker far than night, in which no ray

  Of light is mixed, the entire domain surround,

  Except where fitfully fierce lightnings play,

  And make the gloom by contrast more profound.

  At length the darkness ceases, the sun’s face

  Peeps forth, though not yet sunny is the air,

  Nor of her palace is perceived a trace,

  Nor mortal could affirm it once stood there.

  LXIX

  As clouds at times in the pure welkin form

  The fleeting image of some mighty mass,

  Which the sun melteth, or dispels the storm;

  Or like a sick man’s dreams that swiftly pass;

  So disappeared her palace, and remained

  Alone the Alps, and gloom before the eye;

  Her car, which stood prepared, she quickly gained,

  And, as her wont, soared upwards to the sky.

  LXX

  Begirt by storms and wind’s sonorous roll,

  She treads the clouds and cleaves the air’s expanse,

  Passes the regions of the other pole,

  And kingdoms of unknown inhabitants;

  Passes Alcides’ bounds, yet will not she

  Approach the land of Spaniard or of Moor,

  But keeps her course suspended o’er the sea,

  Until she reaches Syria’s well-known shore.

  LXXI

  Nor to Damascus goes; she shuns the sight

  Of her own country, once so loved, so dear;

  Her car directing to the barren site,

  Where ‘mid the waves her castle towers appear.

  Arrived, a place of solitude she sought,

  And from her presence banished maid and page;

  Then wandered, lost in many an anxious thought;

  But shame soon yielded to o’ermastering rage.

  LXXII

  ‘Yes, I will go, ere Egypt’s king,’ she cried,

  ‘Can to the rescue bring his eastern arms;

  I’ll try again those arts which erst I tried,

  And to unwonted forms transform my charms:

  Slave of the noblest I’ll become again,

  And them with bane of rivalry infect;

  So that I vengeance ev’n in part obtain,

  I care for neither honour nor respect.

  LXXIII

  ‘Nor let my guardian uncle me accuse,

  But blame himself who made me play this part,

  Who first directed to unworthy views

  My feeble sex, but bold and manly heart;

  Twas he that made a vagrant dame of me,

  And did my shame unloose, my courage fire;

  He is the cause of each indignity

  I’ve done from love, and yet will do from ire.’

  LXXIV

  She thus resolves, and summons in all haste

  Her pages, serjeants, waiting-maids, and squires;

  Seen is her princely fortune and fine taste

  In their rich trappings and superb attires.

  Away she starts, nor is there one that droops,

  Or day or night the least repose obtains,

  Until she reaches where the friendly troops

  Their ranks extend o’er Gaza’s sunny plains.

  CANTO XVII.

  I

  UPON the road that to Pelusium leads,

  On Judah’s skirts, the town of Gaza stands,

  Close to the margin of the sea, where spreads

  A boundless desert of unfruitful sands;

  Which, as the south wind does the rolling wave,

  The simoom scattereth; when this obtains,

  Scarce can himself the passing pilgrim save,

  Or refuge find from the unstable plains.

  II

  Of Egypt’s king the frontier town it is;

  Long since he won it from the Turkish states,

  But since convenient for the high emprise,

  On which unchangeably he meditates,

  He, leaving Memphis, his imperial seat,

  His court translated to this distant coast,

  Ordering, from various provinces, to meet

  For muster an innumerable host.

  III

  O muse! inspire my memory to declare

  What force that mighty emperor did bring,

  What season ’twas, what state of things was there,

  What friends, what vassals followed Egypt’s king,

  When, from the south and distant Orient, he

  Monarchs led on, and troops in countless swarms:

  Thou canst alone the list detail to me,

  Of chiefs, and troops, and half a world in arms.

  IV

  When Egypt had her ancient faith forsworn,

  Rebelled, and did from Grecian rule retreat,

  A warrior rose, of Mahomet’s lineage born,

  Became its master, and there fixed his seat;

  Caliph was called, and by that ancient style

  Are his successors known; and in this wise,

  Through countless generations, hath the Nile

  Beheld her Pharaohs and her Ptolemies.

  V

  So ‘stablished grew the realm as years rolled o’er,

  And had increased so, that it now engrossed

  Afric and Asia to the Syrian shore,

  From Barca’s confines and Cyrene’s coast;

  Above Syene far its bounds expand,

  Where flows the Nile’s interminable tide,

  Thence to the unpeo
pled wilderness of sand,

  And to the Euphrates on the other side.

  VI

  To right and left its compass comprehends

  The odorous marsh and teeming sea, and on

  Long past the Erythraean it extends

  In the direction of the rising sun.

  Great is the empire in itself; its worth

  Its present prince enhances, whose desert

  Is even greater than his royal birth;

  In state-craft politic, in war expert.

  VII

  Oft ‘gainst the Persian, ‘gainst the Turk fought he;

  Attacked and routed them, and gained great fame.

  Now lost, now won; and in adversity

  Proved greater still than when he overcame.

  But when old age permitted him to bear

  The weight of arms no more, he laid them down;

  Yet could not from his warlike bent forbear,

  Nor from his lust of empire and renown.

  VIII

  He still conducts campaigns by deputy;

  And so robust in intellect appears,

  That the great fabric of the monarchy

  Seems no excessive burden for his years.

  Thro’ each small province Afric is afraid,

  Her homage even Ind doth not withhold;

  Some send him troops, a voluntary aid;

  Others pay tribute to their liege in gold.

  IX

  Such is the king that now collects his ranks;

  Nay, urges those already gathered there

  Against the rising fortune of the Franks,

  Whose recent victories so mistrusted were.

  Last came Armida; at the very hour

  Fixed for the muster she arrived at last.

  On a great plain, beyond the walls, the power

  Of Asia marshalled, before him march past.

  X

  Proudly he sits upon his throne on high,

  To which a hundred steps of ivory led,

  And, underneath a silver canopy,

  His feet on gold-embroidered purple tread.

  Rich with barbaric splendour you behold

  His golden robes to glisten; linen fair,

  Twisted around in many a tortuous fold,

  A diadem forms, new fashioned, for his hair.

  XI

  His right hand holds the sceptre; he appears

  Sedate and reverend, from his beard of snow;

  And his bright eyes, undimmed, unchanged by years,

  With all youth’s fire and resolution glow;

  Nor failed his every attitude to prove

  The majesty of age and of command.

  Apelles thus, or Phidias, had formed Jove,

  But Jove when thundering with imperial hand.

  XII

  On either side of him a satrap stands,

  Of whom the worthiest bears the naked steel,

  Stem minister of justice; in his hands

  The other holds his office-badge, the seal.

  One, secretary, for the king transacts

  All civil business in affairs of state;

  Prince is the other of his troops, and acts

  With powers most ample as chief magistrate.

  XIII

  Below, his own Circassian lancers formed

  A bristling circle round his throne; besides

  Lances, they were with steel cuirasses armed,

  And scimetars hung jangling at their sides.

  Thus sat the king; thus from his lofty seat

  Reviewed the troops assembled in such swarms,

  Who, as they marched past, lowered to his feet,

  As to a god, their colours and their arms.

  XIV

  Heading the column, the Egyptians show

  Their gallant ranks; with them four chiefs defile,

  Two from the upper part, two from the low,

  Gift and creation of the heavenly Nile,

  Whose fertile slime, usurping the sea strand,

  Consolidated grew, and pregnant bore.

  Thus Egypt waxed: how much is now inland

  That was the coast, exposed to ships before.

  XV

  In the first squadron comes the swarthy host

  That dwells on Alexandria’s fertile plain,

  That dwells upon the westward fronting coast,

  Which there commences to be African.

  Their chief Araspes is, more famous far

  For subtile head-piece, than for strength of arm;

  Master of all the Moorish arts of war,

  The secret ambuscade, the false alarm.

  XVI

  Then follow those that, towards the Orient placed,

  Inhabit Asia’s shores; this troop was led

  By Aronteo, whom no virtues graced,

  But accident of birth illustrious made.

  Ne’er sweated had ‘neath helm this carpet knight,

  Nor ever heard the morning bugle’s blast,

  When from a life of idlesse to the fight

  Untimely ambition summoned him at last.

  XVII

  That which is third doth not a squadron seem,

  But a vast army filling land and coast,

  For whom not Egypt’s harvests you would deem

  Sufficient; yet from one town comes this host,

  A town that equals provinces in size,

  And in itself a thousand guilds contains —

  I speak of Cairo, which this mob supplies:

  O’er them averse to arms, Campsoné reigns.

  XVIII

  Under Gazel come marshalled those that reap

  Rich harvests in the adjacent fertile tract,

  And up to where falls down, with giant leap,

  The river at the second cataract.

  The Egyptian rabble have but swords and bows,

  Nor could sustain cuirass or helmet; they

  So richly clothed are, that they cause their foes

  Less dread of danger than desire for prey.

  XIX

  Under Alarcon, Barca’s people passed,

  That almost naked and unarmed campaigned;

  Who upon plunder in its deserts vast,

  From times remote, half-famished lives sustained.

  With hordes less barbarous, but still unfit

  For regular war, succeeds Zumara’s king,

  Then Tripoli’s lord; both skilled in running fight,

  In raids irregular, and skirmishing.

  XX

  Behind their ranks the yeomen are enrolled

  Of Stony and of Happy Araby,

  Who never feel excess of heat or cold,

  If with the voice of fame the facts agree.

  There incense breathes, and other odours; there

  The immortal Phoenix doth new life assume,

  And finds, ‘mid flowers for ever fresh and fair,

  At birth a cradle, and at death a tomb.

  XXI

  Less rich and ornamented is their dress,

  But armed they’re like Egyptians. Then advance

  Other Arabians, who no homes possess

  Of fixed abodes, not fixed inhabitants,

  Perpetual pilgrims, that in constant flight

  Drag migratory towns from place to place;

  These women’s voices have, and women’s height,

  Long jetty locks, and copper-coloured face.

  XXII

  Long Indian javelins, tipped with steel, they bear,

  And move so fleetly, that each bounding steed,

  You’d say, was borne by whirlwind thro’ the air,

  If whirlwind e’er possessed such wondrous speed.

  By Syphax was the foremost squadron led,

  The second by Aldino; in the rear

  Follows the third, Albiazar at its head —

  A murderous bandit, not a cavalier.

  XXIII

  Then pass the legions from those isles, around

  Whose shores the
water of Arabia curls,

  Within whose teeming depths are often found

  Rich fecund shells impregned with precious pearls;

  Their straggling ranks the numerous Negroes close,

  On the left coast of the Erythraean born:

  These Agricalte leads; Osmida those,

  Who holds all faith and every law in scorn.

  XXIV

  Then pass the Ethiops that Meroë sends,

  An island formed by Astabora here,

  There by the mighty Nile; it comprehends

  Three realms and two religions in its sphere:

  These Assimiro and Canario led;

  Both kings and followers of the Prophet, they

  Acknowledge Egypt’s Caliph as their head:

  The third a Christian is, and stays away.

  XXV

  Then come two other vassal kings, whose bands

  Are armed with bow and arrow for the war:

  Soldan of Ormus one, whose fertile lands

  By the great Persian Gulf surrounded are.

  From Boëcan one, which, when the currents flow,

  Becomes an island too, but whensoe’er

  The tide recedes, the water falls so low,

  That with dry foot the pilgrim passes there.

  XXVI

  Thee, Altamoro, in her virtuous bed,

  Thy wife could not detain; tho’, in despair

  To stop thy fatal going, tears she shed,

  And beat her breast, and tore her golden hair:

  ‘Has, then, the ocean’s frightful face more charms

  Than the fond pleading of my loving gaze?

  More pleasing burden, cruel, are thy arms,

  Than our dear child, when in thy lap he plays?’

  XXVII

  He is the King of Samarcand, his crown

  Is of his merits that of least esteem;

  Such skill in arms he unites to such renown

  For courage frank, and gallantry extreme.

  His arm, I prophesy, the Franks will feel;

  Nay, have good reason ev’n to fear it now.

  His troops cuirasses wear of polished steel,

  Swords at their sides, and mace at saddle-bow.

  XXVIII

  Lo! from far India and the East repairs

  Fierce Prince Adrastus to the battle’s din;

  He on his breast, by way of corselet, wears,

  Speckled with green and black, a dragon’s skin;

  Upon a monstrous elephant he rides,

  As ‘twere a simple steed; his forces he

  From this side of the rapid Ganges guides,

  Where the swoln Indus breaks upon the sea.

  XXIX

  The troop succeeding in its ranks contained

  The flower of all the imperial army; they

  To serve in peace and war-time were retained

  By fitting honours and most liberal pay.

  Armed both for safety and their foes’ affright,

  They on strong well-broke steeds prance proudly by,

  And with their purple mantles, and the light