Clotharius his band, and Ademare’s,
And all whose guides in dust were buried low,
Discharged of duty’s chains and bondage snares,
Free from their oath, to none they service owe,
But now concluded all on secret flight,
And shrunk away by thousands every night.
LXIX
Contagious was the precedent, and far
As daylight showed, the rank infection spread.
Those whom Clotharius had, and Ademar,
And the other chiefs, now bones and ashes, led,
Now that the Power, which all dissolves, had freed
Them from their sworn allegiance, talk of flight;
Nay some, the more adventurous, succeed
In flying under cover of the night.
LXX.
Ben se l’ode Goffredo, e ben se ‘l vede:
E i più aspri rimedj avria ben pronti;
Ma gli schiva ed abborre: e con la fede
556 Che faria stare i fiumi, e gir i monti,
Devotamente al Re del mondo chiede
Che gli apra omai della sua grazia i fonti;
Giunge le palme, e fiammeggianti in zelo
560 Gli occhj rivolge e le parole al Cielo.
LXX
Godfredo this both heard, and saw, and knew,
Yet nould with death them chastise though he mought,
But with that faith wherewith he could renew
The steadfast hills and seas dry up to naught
He prayed the Lord upon his flock to rue,
To ope the springs of grace and ease this drought,
Out of his looks shone zeal, devotion, faith,
His hands and eyes to heaven he heaves, and saith:
LXX
These facts were heard and noted by the chief,
Who by harsh measures could have all repressed:
But these he abhorred; and, with that firm belief
Which can make mountains move and rivers rest,
To God raised up devotionate appeal,
That he would ope the fountain of his grace.
He clasped his hands, and, rapt with fervent zeal,
To Heaven addressed his words and beaming face:
LXXI.
Padre e Signor, se al popol tuo piovesti
Già le dolci rugiade entro al deserto:
Se a mortal mano già virtù porgesti
564 Romper le pietre, e trar del monte aperto
Un vivo fiume; or rinnovella in questi
Gli stessi esempj: e se ineguale è il merto,
Adempi di tua grazia i lor difetti:568E giovi lor che tuoi guerrier sian detti.
LXXI
“Father and Lord, if in the deserts waste
Thou hadst compassion on thy children dear,
The craggy rock when Moses cleft and brast,
And drew forth flowing streams of waters clear,
Like mercy, Lord, like grace on us down cast;
And though our merits less than theirs appear,
Thy grace supply that want, for though they be
Thy first-born son, thy children yet are we.”
LXXI
‘Father and Lord! if, in the desert, thou
Didst on thy people sweet refreshment rain,
Or mortal hands didst with the power endow
Hard rocks to rive, and living streams obtain
From the cleft stone, — to us do not deny
Like love; and if unequal be our claim,
Do our deficiency by grace supply,
Nor let us vainly plead who bear thy name.’
LXXII.
Tarde non furon già queste preghiere,
Che derivar da giusto umil desio;
Ma sen volaro al Ciel pronte e leggiere,
572 Come pennuti augelli, innanzi a Dio.
Le accolse il Padre eterno, ed alle schiere
Fedeli sue rivolse il guardo pio:
E di sì gravi lor rischj e fatiche
576 Gl’increbbe, e disse con parole amiche:
LXXII
These prayers just, from humble hearts forth sent,
Were nothing slow to climb the starry sky,
But swift as winged bird themselves present
Before the Father of the heavens high:
The Lord accepted them, and gently bent
Upon the faithful host His gracious eye,
And in what pain and what distress it laid,
He saw, and grieved to see, and thus He said:
LXXII
No lagging course his pious prayers pursue,
Since sprung from humble and so just desire,
But prompt and light through heaven’s crystallin flew,
Like winged birds, unto their God. The Sire
Eternal heard, and on His faithful host
Cast down a tender and compassionate look;
And, grieving for their toils and numbers lost,
In these benignant, friendly accents spoke:
LXXIII.
Abbia sin quì sue dure e perigliose
Avversità sofferto il campo amato:
E contra lui, con armi ed arti ascose,
580 Siasi l’inferno e siasi il mondo armato.
Or cominci novello ordin di cose,
E gli si volga prospero e beato:
Piova, e ritorni il suo Guerriero invitto;584E venga, a gloria sua, l’oste d’Egitto.
LXXIII
“Mine armies dear till now have suffered woe,
Distress and danger, hell’s infernal power
Their enemy hath been, the world their foe,
But happy be their actions from this hour:
What they begin to blessed end shall go,
I will refresh them with a gentle shower;
Rinaldo shall return, the Egyptian crew
They shall encounter, conquer, and subdue.”
LXXIII
‘Tho’ my loved camp may have suffered till this hour
Painful and perilous adversity,
Though hell with all its secret arts and power,
And though the world against it armèd be,
Now a new state of fortune shall begin,
And turn its grief to joy. Let rain fall down,
Return its own unconquered paladin,
And Egypt’s host arrive — his fame to crown.’
LXXIV.
Così dicendo, il capo mosse: e gli ampj
Cieli tremaro, e i lumi erranti, e i fissi:
E tremò l’aria riverente, e i campi
588 Dell’Oceano, e i monti, e i ciechi abissi.
Fiammeggiare a sinistra accesi lampi
Fur visti, e chiaro tuono insieme udissi.
Accompagnan le genti il lampo e ‘l tuono
592 Con allegro di voci ed alto suono.
LXXIV
At these high words great heaven began to shake,
The fixed stars, the planets wandering still,
Trembled the air, the earth and ocean quake,
Spring, fountain, river, forest, dale and hill;
From north to east, a lightning flash outbrake,
And coming drops presaged with thunders shrill:
With joyful shouts the soldiers on the plain,
These tokens bless of long-desired rain.
LXXIV
He ceased, and bowed his head; — then shook the sky;
The stars and wandering planets felt the spell;
Trembled the reverent air, the mountains high,
The fields of ocean, and the abyss of hell;
Leftwards forked lightning flashed, and with it pealed
Loud claps of thunder through the lowering skies.
Each flash, each peal, the gladdened army hailed
With joyful clamour and exulting cries.
LXXV.
Ecco subite nubi; e non di terra
Già, per virtù del Sole, in alto ascese;
Ma giù dal Ciel, che tutte apre e disserra
&
nbsp; 596 Le porte sue, veloci in giù discese.
Ecco notte improvvisa il giorno serra
Nell’ombre sue, che d’ogni intorno ha stese.
Segue la pioggia impetuosa, e cresce
600 Il rio così, che fuor del letto n’esce.
LXXV
A sudden cloud, as when Helias prayed,
Not from dry earth exhaled by Phoebus’ beams,
Arose, moist heaven his windows open laid,
Whence clouds by heaps out rush, and watery streams,
The world o’erspread was with a gloomy shade,
That like a dark mirksome even it seems;
The crashing rain from molten skies down fell,
And o’er their banks the brooks and fountains swell.
LXXV
Lo! sudden clouds, and they not earthly born,
Or upwards drawn by virtue of the sun,
But from high heaven — which had asunder torn
Its mighty gates — fall, rushing swiftly down.
Lo! sudden night the light of day enchains
Within its shade, that all around is spread;
Succeeded by such fierce, impetuous rains,
That Siloë now o’erleaps his narrow bed.
LXXVI.
Come talor nella stagione estiva,
Se dal Ciel pioggia desiata scende,
Stuol d’anitre loquaci in secca riva
604 Con rauco mormorar lieto l’attende:
E spiega l’ali al freddo umor, nè schiva
Alcuna di bagnarsi in lui si rende:
E là ‘ve in maggior copia ei si raccoglia,
608 Si tuffa, e spegne l’assetata voglia;
LXXVI
In summer season, when the cloudy sky
Upon the parched ground doth rain down send,
As duck and mallard in the furrows dry
With merry noise the promised showers attend,
And spreading broad their wings displayed lie
To keep the drops that on their plumes descend,
And where the streams swell to a gathered lake,
Therein they dive, and sweet refreshing take:
LXXVI
As in midsummer’s season, if the shower
So pined, so longed for, from the heavens descend,
In fond impatience of the welcome hour,
By arid streams hoarse chattering ducks attend,
Spreading their pinions to the grateful cool;
None from the clear, refreshing moisture blench,
And, where the gathering freshet forms a pool,
Plunge in its depths their burning thirst to quench;
LXXVII.
Così gridando, la cadente piova,
Che la destra del Ciel pietosa versa,
Lieti salutan questi: a ciascun giova
612 La chioma averne, non che ‘l manto, aspersa.
Chi bee ne’ vetri, e chi negli elmi a prova:
Chi tien la man nella fresca onda immersa:
Chi se ne spruzza il volto, e chi le tempie:
616 Chi scaltro a miglior uso i vasi n’empie.
LXXVII
So they the streaming showers with shouts and cries
Salute, which heaven shed on the thirsty lands,
The falling liquor from the dropping skies
He catcheth in his lap, he barehead stands,
And his bright helm to drink therein unties,
In the fresh streams he dives his sweaty hands,
Their faces some, and some their temples wet,
And some to keep the drops large vessels set.
LXXVII
So these salute with screams of wild delight
The falling rain, that with compassionate hand
God sent His faithful people to requite.
Uncloaked, nay more, unhelmeted, all stand;
This drinks from glass, that with his helmet vies,
These keep their hands immersed beneath the rill;
Some bathe their throbbing temples, some their eyes;
Vessels, for better use, the crafty fill.
LXXVIII.
Nè pur l’umana gente or si rallegra,
E de’ suoi danni a ristorar si viene;
Ma la terra, che dianzi afflitta ed egra
620 Di fessure le membra avea ripiene,
La pioggia in se raccoglie, e si rintegra,
E la comparte alle più interne vene:
E largamente i nutritivi umori
624 Alle piante ministra, all’erbe, ai fiori.
LXXVIII
Nor man alone to ease his burning sore,
Herein doth dive and wash, and hereof drinks,
But earth itself weak, feeble, faint before,
Whose solid limbs were cleft with rifts and chinks,
Received the falling showers and gathered store
Of liquor sweet, that through her veins down sinks,
And moisture new infused largely was
In trees, in plants, in herbs, in flowers, in grass.
LXXVIII
And not alone the human race is glad,
Its previous waste rejoicing to restore;
But the parched earth, that was so faint, so sad,
And in its limbs such gaping fissures bore,
Sucks in the moisture, and unites once more;
And spreads it thence throughout its inmost veins,
Supplying largely each exhausted flower,
Each herb and plant with heaven’s nutritious rains:
LXXIX.
Ed inferma somiglia, a cui vitale
Succo l’interne parti arse rinfresca:
E disgombrando la cagion del male,
628 A cui le membra sue fur cibo ed esca;
La rinfranca, e ristora, e rende quale
Fu nella sua stagion più verde e fresca:
Tal ch’obliando i suoi passati affanni
632 Le ghirlande ripiglia, e i lieti panni.
LXXIX
Earth, like the patient was, whose lively blood
Hath overcome at last some sickness strong,
Whose feeble limbs had been the bait and food
Whereon this strange disease depastured long,
But now restored, in health and welfare stood,
As sound as erst, as fresh, as fair, as young;
So that forgetting all his grief and pain,
His pleasant robes and crowns he takes again.
LXXIX
Resembling sickly girl whose fever was
By vital draughts and cordial balms subdued,
Whence, disencumbered of the fatal cause
That made her limbs its appetising food,
As fresh and as recruited she becomes
As in the season of her greatest charms,
And now, forgetting her past ills, resumes
Her robes, her garlands, and all beauty’s arms.
LXXX.
Cessa la pioggia alfine, e torna il Sole:
Ma dolce spiega e temperato il raggio,
Pien di maschio valor, siccome suole
636 Tra ‘l fin d’Aprile, e il cominciar di Maggio.
Oh fidanza gentil! chi Dio ben cole,
L’aria sgombrar d’ogni mortale oltraggio:
Cangiare alle stagioni ordine e stato:
640 Vincer la rabbia delle stelle, e ‘l fato.
LXXX
Ceased the rain, the sun began to shine,
With fruitful, sweet, benign, and gentle ray,
Full of strong power and vigor masculine,
As be his beams in April or in May.
O happy zeal! who trusts in help divine
The world’s afflictions thus can drive away,
Can storms appease, and times and seasons change,
And conquer fortune, fate, and destiny strange.
LXXX
The rains now cease; the sun returns at length,
But with a genial and attempered ray,
As it is wont, replete with virile strength,
<
br /> At the end of April or the birth of May.
O gentle faith! alone thy virtue can
The air’s death-bearing poison dissipate,
Can change the seasons’ order and their plan,
Thwart the stars’ influence, and discomfit Fate.
Canto quattordicesimo
FOURTEENTH BOOK
ARGOMENTO.
Intende in sogno il Capitan Francese
Come Dio vuol che si richiami all’oste
Il buon Rinaldo: ond’egli poi cortese
De’ Principi risponde alle proposte.
Ma Piero che già prima il tutto intese,
I messi invia là dov’han cortese oste
Un mago; il qual lor pria d’Armida scopre
Gli occulti inganni, indi gli ajuta all’opre.
THE ARGUMENT.
His will; Rinaldo must return at last;
They have their asking who for pardon sue:
Two knights to find the prince are sent in haste,
But Peter, who by vision all foreknew,
Sendeth the searchers to a wizard, placed
Deep in a vault, who first at large declares
Armida’s trains, then how to shun those snares.
I.
Usciva omai dal molle e fresco grembo
Della gran madre sua la notte oscura;
Aure lievi portando, e largo nembo
4 Di sua rugiada preziosa e pura:
E scuotendo del vel l’umido lembo
Ne spargeva i fioretti e la verdura:
E i venticelli, dibattendo l’ali,
8 Lusingavano il sonno de’ mortali.
I
Now from the fresh, the soft and tender bed
Of her still mother, gentle night out flew,
The fleeting balm on hills and dales she shed,
With honey drops of pure and precious dew,
And on the verdure of green forests spread
The virgin primrose and the violet blue,
And sweet-breathed Zephyr on his spreading wings,
Sleep, ease, repose, rest, peace and quiet brings.
I
Now issuing from her mother’s womb, the night
O’er heaven and earth her sable shadows threw;
Bearer she was of zephyrs passing light,
And of big showers of pure and precious dew;
Shaking the humid border of her veil,
She with its drops the grass and flowers impearled;
And flapping his glad wings the gentle gale,
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