Jerusalem Delivered

by Torquato Tasso

Thy beauty, worth, and lineage to disgrace.

  LV.

  Deh! che del fallir nostro or quì sia il fine;

  E di nostre vergogne omai ti spiaccia:

  Ed in questo del mondo ermo confine

  436 La memoria di lor sepolta giaccia.

  Sola, in Europa e nelle due vicine

  Parti, fra l’opre mie questa si taccia.

  Deh non voler che segni ignobil fregio

  440 Tua beltà, tuo valor, tuo sangue regio.

  LV

  “Stay here in peace, I go, nor wend you may

  With me, my guide your fellowship denies,

  Stay here or hence depart some better way,

  And calm your thoughts, you are both sage and wise.”

  While thus he spoke, her passions found no stay,

  But here and there she turned and rolled her eyes,

  And staring on his face awhile, at last

  Thus in foul terms, her bitter wrath forth brast:

  LV

  ‘Remain in peace; I go, but thou must stay —

  My guide forbids thy flight with me; remain,

  Or seek some other, better, happier way,

  And, as thou art wise, these mad resolves restrain.’

  No longer could the infuriate fair disguise

  Her growing wrath, as thus Rinaldo spoke;

  Awhile she scanned him with despiteful eyes,

  Then into these malign reproaches broke:

  LVI.

  Rimanti in pace; i’ vado: a te non lice

  Meco venir; chi mi conduce il vieta.

  Rimanti, o va per altra via felice,

  444 E come saggia i tuoi consiglj acqueta.

  Ella, mentre il guerrier così le dice,

  Non trova loco torbida inquieta:

  Già buona pezza in dispettosa fronte

  448 Torva il riguarda, alfin prorompe all’onte.

  LVI

  “Of Sophia fair thou never wert the child,

  Nor of the Azzain race ysprung thou art,

  The mad sea-waves thee hare, some tigress wild

  On Caucasus’ cold crags nursed thee apart;

  Ah, cruel man l in whom no token mild

  Appears, of pity, ruth, or tender heart,

  Could not my griefs, my woes, my plaints, and all

  One sigh strain from thy breast, one tear make fall?

  LVI

  ‘Thee fair Sofia ne’er produced, not thus

  Dost thou the blood of Azzo’s stock attest:

  Thy parents were the icy Caucasus

  And wild sea-waves; thy nurse some tigress’ breast.

  Why more dissemble to a man that shows

  Not ev’n a vestige of humanity?

  Has he changed colour, or for my deep woes

  One tear-drop shed, or breathed a single sigh?

  LVII.

  Nè te Sofia produsse, e non sei nato

  Dell’Azzio sangue tu: te l’onda insana

  Del mar produsse, e ‘l Caucaso gelato,

  452 E le mamme allattar di tigre Ircana.

  Che dissimulo io più? l’uomo spietato

  Pur un segno non diè di mente umana.

  Forse cambiò color? forse al mio duolo

  456 Bagnò almen gli occhj, o sparse un sospir solo?

  LVII

  “What shall I say, or how renew my speech?

  He scorns me, leaves me, bids me call him mine:

  The victor hath his foe within his reach;

  Yet pardons her, that merits death and pine;

  Hear how he counsels me; how he can preach,

  Like chaste Xenocrates, gainst love divine;

  O heavens, O gods! why do these men of shame,

  Thus spoil your temples and blaspheme your name?

  LVII

  ‘What things shall I pass over or repeat?

  He says he’s mine, yet from my presence goes;

  Compassionate, generous victor, to forget

  And ev’n forgive the offences of his foes!

  Hear how this chaste, this argumentative

  Zenocrates his theory of love refines!

  Ye Gods! O Heaven! what — let these sinners live,

  Yet hurl destruction ‘gainst your sacred shrines.

  LVIII.

  Quali cose tralascio, e quai ridico?

  S’offre per mio: mi fugge, e m’abbandona.

  Quasi buon vincitor, di reo nemico

  460 Oblia le offese, e i falli aspri perdona.

  Odi come consiglia, odi il pudíco

  Senocrate d’Amor come ragiona.

  O Cielo, o Dei, perchè soffrir questi empj,

  464 Fulminar poi le torri, e i vostri tempj?

  LVIII

  “Go cruel, go, go with such peace, such rest,

  Such joy, such comfort, as thou leavest me here:

  My angry soul discharged from this weak breast,

  Shall haunt thee ever, and attend thee near,

  And fury-like in snakes and firebrands dressed,

  Shall aye torment thee, whom it late held dear:

  And if thou ‘scape the seas, the rocks, and sands

  And come to fight among the Pagan bands,

  LVIII

  ‘But go, hard-hearted monster! with that peace

  Thou leav’st to me; unjust, relentless, go!

  But never shall my naked spirit cease

  To haunt thy presence, and torment thee — no!

  New Fury, I with serpents and with fire

  Will torture thee, as I have loved before;

  And, shouldst thou ‘scape the raging billows’ ire,

  And safely reach the battle-field once more,

  LIX.

  Vattene pur, crudel, con quella pace

  Che lasci a me: vattene iniquo omai;

  Me tosto ignudo spirto, ombra seguace

  468 Indivisibilmente a tergo avrai.

  Nuova furia co’ serpi e con la face

  Tanto t’agiterò quanto t’amai.

  E s’è destin ch’esca del mar, che schivi

  472 Gli scoglj e l’onde, e ch’alla pugna arrivi:

  LIX

  “There lying wounded, mongst the hurt and slain,

  Of these my wrongs thou shalt the vengeance bear,

  And oft Armida shalt thou call in vain,

  At thy last gasp; this hope I soon to hear:”

  Here fainted she, with sorrow, grief and pain,

  Her latest words scant well expressed were,

  But in a swoon on earth outstretched she lies,

  Stiff were her frozen limbs, closed were her eyes.

  LIX

  ‘There, ‘mid the dead and dying prostrate, all

  My pangs thou shalt repay, false cavalier;

  And by her name Armida often call

  At thy last gasp — this, this I hope to hear.’

  But now the exhausted sufferer sank, nor could

  Complete the words that in her passion rose:

  She falls, half-lifeless, her dank pores exude

  An icy sweat, her heavy eyelids close.

  LX.

  Là tra ‘l sangue e le morti egro giacente

  Mi pagherai le pene, empio guerriero.

  Per nome Armida chiamerai sovente

  476 Negli ultimi singulti; udir ciò spero.....

  Or quì mancò lo spirto alla dolente;

  Nè quest’ultimo suono espresse intero:

  E cadde tramortita, e si diffuse

  480 Di gelato sudore, e i lumi chiuse.

  LX

  Thou closed thine eyes, Armida, heaven envied

  Ease to thy grief, or comfort to thy woe;

  Ah, open then again, see tears down slide

  From his kind eyes, whom thou esteem’st thy foe,

  If thou hadst heard, his sighs had mollified

  Thine anger, hard he sighed and mourned so;

  And as he could with sad and rueful look

  His leave of thee and last farewell he took.

  LX


  Closed are thine eyes, Armida; aught to cheer

  Thy parting pangs invidious Heaven denies.

  Ah, wretched, ope them, and behold the tear,

  The bitter tear that blinds Rinaldo’s eyes.

  Couldst thou but hear the music of his sighs,

  How it would soothe thee, and thy anguish quell;

  All that he can he gives, in piteous guise

  Then takes (yet seest thou not!) a last farewell.

  LXI.

  Chiudesti i lumi, Armida: il Cielo avaro

  Invidiò il conforto a’ tuoi martírj.

  Apri, misera, gli occhj; il pianto amaro

  484 Negli occhj al tuo nemico or chè non miri?

  O s’udir tu ‘l potessi, o come caro

  T’addolcirebbe il suon de’ suoi sospiri!

  Dà quanto ei puote; ei prende (e tu nol credi)

  488 Pietoso in vista gli ultimi congedi.

  LXI

  What should he do? leave on the naked sand

  This woful lady half alive, half dead?

  Kindness forbade, pity did that withstand;

  But hard constraint, alas! did thence him lead;

  Away he went, the west wind blew from land

  Mongst the rich tresses of their pilot’s head,

  And with that golden sail the waves she cleft,

  To land he looked, till land unseen he left.

  LXI

  What should he do? Upon the barren sands

  Desert her thus, half living and half dead?

  His stay compassion, courtesy demands;

  But hard necessity compels — He fled.

  Away, away, the gentle westering gales

  Thro’ the fair tresses of his escort blew;

  O’er the deep ocean fly the golden sails;

  The coast he watches till it sinks from view.

  LXII.

  Or che farà? dee su l’ignuda arena

  Costei lasciar così tra viva e morta?

  Cortesia lo ritien, pietà l’affrena,

  492 Dura necessità seco ne ‘l porta.

  Parte, e di lievi zefiri è ripiena

  La chioma di colei che gli fa scorta.

  Vola per l’alto mar l’aurata vela:

  496 Ei guarda il lido; e ‘l lido ecco si cela.

  LXII

  Waked from her trance, foresaken, speechless, sad,

  Armida wildly stared and gazed about,

  “And is he gone,” quoth she, “nor pity had

  To leave me thus twixt life and death in doubt?

  Could he not stay? could not the traitor-lad

  From this last trance help or recall me out?

  And do I love him still, and on this sand

  Still unrevenged, still mourn, still weeping stand?

  LXII

  But when restored Armida gazed around,

  Nought but the silent desert met her eye.

  ‘ And is he gone?’ she cried; ‘upon the ground

  Could he forsake me thus, perhaps to die?

  Could not the traitor, in need’s extreme hour,

  Have stayed one moment, some assistance lent?

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

  And unrevenged sit here and still lament?

  LXIII.

  Poi ch’ella in se tornò, deserto e muto,

  Quanto mirar potè, d’intorno scorse.

  Ito se n’è pur, disse, ed ha potuto

  500 Me quì lasciar della mia vita in forse?

  Nè un momento indugiò: nè un breve ajuto

  Nel caso estremo il traditor mi porse?

  Ed io pur anco l’amo? e in questo lido

  504 Invendicata ancor piango, e m’assido?

  LXIII

  “Fie no! complaints farewell! with arms and art

  I will pursue to death this spiteful knight,

  Not earth’s low centre, nor sea’s deepest part,

  Not heaven, nor hell, can shield him from my might,

  I will o’ertake him, take him, cleave his heart,

  Such vengeance fits a wronged lover’s spite,

  In cruelty that cruel knight surpass

  I will, but what avail vain words, alas?

  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.

  Che fa più meco il pianto? altr’arme, altr’arte

  Io non ho dunque? ahi seguirò pur l’empio:

  Nè l’abisso, per lui riposta parte,

  508 Nè il Ciel sarà per lui sicuro tempio.

  Già ‘l giungo, e ‘l prendo, e ‘l cor gli svello, e sparte

  Le membra appendo, ai dispietati esempio.

  Mastro è di ferità: vuò superarlo

  512 Nell’arti sue; ma dove son? che parlo?

  LXIV

  “O fool! thou shouldest have been cruel than,

  For then this cruel well deserved thine ire,

  When thou in prison hadst entrapped the man,

  Now dead with cold, too late thou askest fire;

  But though my wit, my cunning nothing can,

  Some other means shall work my heart’s desire,

  To thee, my beauty, thine be all these wrongs,

  Vengeance to thee, to thee revenge belongs.

  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.

  Misera Armida, allor dovevi, e degno

  Ben era, in quel crudele incrudelire

  Che tu prigion l’avesti: or tardo sdegno

  516 T’infiamma, e movi neghittosa a l’ire.

  Pur se beltà può nulla, o scaltro ingegno,

  Non fia vuoto d’effetto il mio desire.

  O mia sprezzata forma, a te s’aspetta

  520 (Chè tua l’ingiuria fu) l’alta vendetta.

  LXV

  “Thou shalt be his reward, with murdering brand

  That dare this traitor of his head deprive,

  O you my lovers, on this rock doth stand

  The castle of her love for whom you strive,

  I, the sole heir of all Damascus land,

  For this revenge myself and kingdom give,

  If by this price my will I cannot gain,

  Nature gives beauty; fortune, wealth in vain.

  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.

  Questa bellezza mia sarà mercede

  Del troncator dell’esecrabil testa.

  O miei famosi amanti, ecco si chiede

  524 Difficil sì, da voi, ma impresa onesta.

  Io che sarò d’ampie ricchezze erede,

  D’una vendetta in guiderdon son presta.

  S’esser compra a tal prezzo indegna io sono,

  528 Beltà, sei di natura inutil dono.

  LXVI

  “But thee, vain gift, vain beauty, thee I scorn,


  I hate the kingdom which I have to give,

  I hate myself, and rue that I was born,

  Only in hope of sweet revenge I live.”

  Thus raging with fell ire she gan return

  From that bare shore in haste, and homeward drive,

  And as true witness of her frantic ire,

  Her locks waved loose, face shone, eyes sparkled fire.

  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.

  Dono infelice, io ti rifiuto: e insieme

  Odio l’esser Reina, e l’esser viva,

  E l’esser nata mai; sol fa la speme

  532 Della dolce vendetta ancor ch’io viva.

  Così in voci interrotte irata freme,

  E torce il piè dalla deserta riva,

  Mostrando ben quanto ha furor raccolto,

  536 Sparsa il crin, bieca gli occhj, accesa il volto.

  LXVII

  When she came home, she called with outcries shrill,

  A thousand devils in Limbo deep that won,

  Black clouds the skies with horrid darkness fill,

  And pale for dread became the eclipsed sun,

  The whirlwind blustered big on every hill,

  And hell to roar under her feet begun,

  You might have heard how through the palace wide,

  Some spirits howled, some barked, some hissed, some cried.

  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.

  Giunta agli alberghi suoi chiamò trecento,

  Con lingua orrenda, deità d’Averno.

  S’empie il Ciel d’atre nubi, e in un momento

  540 Impallidisce il gran pianeta eterno:

  E soffia, e scuote i gioghi alpestri il vento: