Jerusalem Delivered

by Torquato Tasso

  228 Stanza conforme alla dolente vita;

  Vedi che tutta al tuo venir s’allegra,

  E in più leggiadre forme è rivestita.

  Tale era il canto; e poi dal mirto uscia

  232 Un dolcissimo suono: e quel s’apria.

  XXIX

  “Thou com’st to cure our princess, faint and sick

  For love, for love of thee, faint, sick, distressed;

  Late black, late dreadful was this forest thick,

  Fit dwelling for sad folk with grief oppressed,

  See with thy coming how the branches quick

  Revived are, and in new blosoms dressed:”

  This was their song, and after, from it went

  First a sweet sound, and then the myrtle rent.

  XXIX

  ‘Longed for, thou com’st, the patient to restore,

  Consumed, exhausted by love’s wasting flame:

  This wood, so dreary, and so dark before,

  And which so well her dolorous life became,

  At thy approach resumes its gaiety,

  And in still lovelier form is clothed anew.’

  Such was the song; when from the myrtle tree

  Issued sweet sounds, and then it oped in two.

  XXX.

  Già nell’aprir di un rustico Sileno

  Maraviglie vedea l’antica etade;

  Ma quel gran mirto dall’aperto seno

  236 Immagini mostrò più belle e rade:

  Donna mostrò ch’assomigliava appieno,

  Nel falso aspetto, angelica beltade.

  Rinaldo guata, e di veder gli è avviso

  240 Le sembianze d’Armida, e il dolce viso.

  XXX

  If antique times admired Silenus old

  That oft appeared set on his lazy ass,

  How would they wonder if they had behold

  Such sights as from the myrtle high did pass?

  Thence came a lady fair with locks of gold,

  That like in shape, in face and beauty was

  To sweet Armide; Rinaldo thinks he spies

  Her gestures, smiles, and glances of her eyes.

  XXX

  Within Sileni, in the days of yore,

  Our sires saw wondrous images enclosed,

  But this large myrtle, from its opened core,

  A far more rare and lovely form exposed;

  It showed a woman, whose false look excelled

  An angel’s in its loveliness and grace.

  Rinaldo gazed, and fancied he beheld

  Armida’s likeness, and her witching face.

  XXXI.

  Quella lui mira in un lieta e dolente:

  Mille affetti in un guardo appajon misti.

  Poi dice: io pur ti veggio: e finalmente

  244 Pur ritorni a colei da cui fuggisti.

  A chè ne vieni? a consolar presente

  Le mie vedove notti e i giorni tristi?

  O vieni a mover guerra, a discacciarme;

  248 Chè mi celi il bel volto, e mostri l’arme?

  XXXI

  On him a sad and smiling look she cast,

  Which twenty passions strange at once bewrays:

  “And art thou come,” quoth she, “returned at last

  To her from whom but late thou ran’st thy ways?

  Com’st thou to comfort me for sorrows past?

  To ease my widow nights and careful days?

  Or comest thou to work me grief and harm?

  Why nilt thou speak? — why not thy face disarm?

  XXXI

  Half glad, half sorrowful, the youth she eyed;

  A thousand feelings centred in one look.

  ‘I see thee, then; thou, then, at length,’ she cried,

  ‘Returnest back to her whom you forsook.

  Why art thou here? Is’t by thy presence now

  To cheer my widowed nights and mournful days?

  Or to wage war, and drive me hence, that thou

  But show’st thine arms, and hid’st thy lovely face?

  XXXII.

  Giungi amante, o nemico? il ricco ponte

  Io già non preparava ad uom nemico;

  Nè gli apriva i ruscelli, i fior, la fonte,

  252 Sgombrando i dumi, e ciò ch’a’ passi è intrico.

  Togli quest’elmo omai: scopri la fronte,

  E gli occhj agli occhj miei, s’arrivi amico:

  Giungi i labbri alle labbra, il seno al seno:

  256 Porgi la destra alla mia destra almeno.

  XXXII

  “Com’st thou a friend or foe? I did not frame

  That golden bridge to entertain my foe,

  Nor opened flowers and fountains as you came,

  To welcome him with joy that brings me woe:

  Put off thy helm, rejoice me with the flame

  Of thy bright eyes, whence first my fires did grow.

  Kiss me, embrace me, if you further venture,

  Love keeps the gate, the fort is eath to enter.”

  XXXII

  ‘Com’st thou as friend or foe. ’Twas not for foes

  I caused the bridge like magic to appear,

  Nor oped the stream, the fountain, and the rose,

  To smooth a passage for thy coming here.

  Bare, then, thy brow, remove that envious crest,

  And, if still friend, fix thy dear eyes on mine;

  Join lip to lip once more, and breast to breast;

  Or take at least this trembling hand in thine.’

  XXXIII.

  Seguia parlando, e in bei pietosi giri

  Volgeva i lumi, e scoloria i sembianti;

  Falseggiando i dolcissimi sospiri,

  260 E i soavi singulti, e i vaghi pianti:

  Tal che incauta pietade a quei martírj

  Intenerir potea gli aspri diamanti.

  Ma il Cavaliero, accorto si non crudo,

  264 Più non v’attende, e stringe il ferro ignudo.

  XXXIII

  Thus as she woos she rolls her rueful eyes

  With piteous look, and changeth oft her cheer,

  An hundred sighs from her false heart upflies,

  She sobs, she mourns, it is great ruth to hear;

  The hardest breast sweet pity mollifies,

  What stony heart resists a woman’s tear?

  But yet the knight, wise, wary, not unkind,

  Drew forth his sword and from her careless twined.

  XXXIII

  She went on still addressing him, and rolled

  (Pallid as death) in piteous cirques her eyes,

  Dissembling and deceiving as of old,

  With melting tears, sweet sobs, and deep-drawn sighs.

  It would have moved a heart of stone to hear

  The flood of anguish the false siren poured;

  But the forewarned, not heartless, cavalier

  No longer waited, but unsheathed his sword;

  XXXIV.

  Vassene al mirto; allor colei s’abbraccia

  Al caro tronco, e s’interpone, e grida:

  Ah non sarà mai ver che tu mi faccia

  268 Oltraggio tal, che l’alber mio recida.

  Deponi il ferro, o dispietato, o ‘l caccia

  Pria nelle vene all’infelice Armida;

  Per questo sen, per questo cor, la spada

  272 Solo al bel mirto mio trovar può strada.

  XXXIV

  Toward the tree he marched, she thither start,

  Before him stepped, embraced the plant and cried,

  “Ah, never do me such a spiteful part,

  To cut my tree, this forest’s joy and pride,

  Put up thy sword, else pierce therewith the heart

  Of thy forsaken and despised Armide;

  For through this breast, and through this heart unkind

  To this fair tree thy sword shall passage find.”

  XXXIV

  And straight proceeded to the myrtle tree,

  Which she embraced, and, interposing, cried:

  ‘H
old! nor inflict such outrage upon me;

  Thou wouldst not, surely, my dear trunk divide?

  Lay down thy sword, or, cruel as thou art,

  Let it the life-blood of Armida drain:

  To this dear myrtle, through this breast, this heart,

  Alone a passage can thy falchion gain.’

  XXXV.

  Egli alza il ferro, e ‘l suo pregar non cura:

  Ma colei si trasmuta (o novi mostri!)

  Siccome avvien che d’una altra figura

  276 Trasformando repente il sogno mostri.

  Così ingrossò le membra, e tornò scura

  La faccia; e vi sparìr gli avorj e gli ostri:

  Crebbe in gigante altissimo, e si feo

  280 Con cento armate braccia un Briareo.

  XXXV

  He lift his brand, nor cared though oft she prayed,

  And she her form to other shape did change;

  Such monsters huge when men in dreams are laid

  Oft in their idle fancies roam and range:

  Her body swelled, her face obscure was made,

  Vanished her garments, her face and vestures strange,

  A giantess before him high she stands,

  Like Briareus armed with an hundred hands.

  XXXV

  Deaf to her prayer, he raised his sword, while she

  (O novel prodigy!) transformed became.

  Thus metamorphosed suddenly we see

  One figure to another in a dream;

  So waxed her limbs, and turned to swarthy hue

  Of her fair face the pink and ivory charms;

  She to a most colossal giant grew —

  Briareus, armèd with a hundred arms.

  XXXVI.

  Cinquanta spade impugna, e con cinquanta

  Scudi risuona, e minacciando freme.

  Ogn’altra Ninfa ancor d’arme s’ammanta,

  284 Fatta un Ciclope orrendo: ed ei non teme;

  Ma doppia i colpi alla difesa pianta

  Che pur, come animata, ai colpi geme.

  Sembran dell’aria i campi, i campi Stigj:

  288 Tanti appajono in lor mostri e prodigj!

  XXXVI

  With fifty swords, and fifty targets bright,

  She threatened death, she roared, cried and fought,

  Each other nymph in armor likewise dight,

  A Cyclops great became: he feared them naught,

  But on the myrtle smote with all his might,

  That groaned like living souls to death nigh brought,

  The sky seemed Pluto’s court, the air seemed hell,

  Therein such monsters roar, such spirits yell.

  XXXVI

  Fifty broad swords she griped, and fifty shields

  Clashed with defiant menace in his ear.

  Each other nymph, now horrid Cyclops, wields

  Falchion and targe; but still he felt no fear:

  Nay, on the guarded plant renewed his blows,

  Which ‘neath them groaned, as animate it were;

  While in such numbers ghosts and monsters rose,

  That Stygian fields appeared the fields of air.

  XXXVII.

  Sopra il turbato Ciel, sotto la terra,

  Tuona e fulmina quello, e trema questa:

  Vengono i venti e le procelle in guerra,

  292 E gli soffiano al volto aspra tempesta.

  Ma pur mai colpo il Cavalier non erra:

  Nè per tanto furor punto s’arresta;

  Tronca la noce: e noce e mirto parve.

  296 Quì l’incanto finì, sparir le larve.

  XXXVII

  Lightened the heavens above, the earth below

  Roared loud, that thundered, and this shook;

  Blustered the tempests strong, the whirlwinds blow,

  The bitter storm drove hailstones in his look;

  But yet his arm grew neither weak nor slow,

  Nor of that fury heed or care he took,

  Till low to earth the wounded tree down bended;

  Then fled the spirits all, the charms all ended.

  XXXVII

  Beneath, earth thundered; overhead, the skies

  Lightened, and quaked the vast terrestrial sphere;

  Warred the wild elements, and in his eyes

  With fury smote him. Still the cavalier

  Paused not a moment, tho’ the lightning gleamed,

  Nor in his stroke or purpose ever erred.

  He felled the nut— ’tis nut that myrtle seemed —

  The charm was broke, the spirits disappeared.

  XXXVIII.

  Tornò sereno il Cielo, e l’aura cheta:

  Tornò la selva al natural suo stato:

  Non d’incanti terribile, e non lieta,

  300 Piena d’orror, ma dell’orror innato.

  Ritenta il vincitor s’altro più vieta

  Ch’esser non possa il bosco omai troncato,

  Poscia sorride, e fra se dice: o vane

  304 Sembianze; o folle chi per voi rimane!

  XXXVIII

  The heavens grew clear, the air waxed calm and still,

  The wood returned to his wonted state,

  Of withcrafts free, quite void of spirits ill;

  Of horror full, but horror there innate;

  He further proved if aught withstood his will

  To cut those trees as did the charms of late,

  And finding naught to stop him, smiled, and said,

  “O shadows vain! O fools, of shades afraid!”

  XXXVIII

  Heaven fair became, the tempest passed away,

  The wood returned unto its natural state:

  Not from enchantments dreadful, still not gay;

  Replete with gloom, but gloom that was innate.

  Then tried the victor, and retried again,

  If aught else hindered him the wood to hew;

  And, smiling, said: ‘Ye semblances! how vain,

  How weak is man to be deterred by you!’

  XXXIX.

  Quinci s’invia verso le tende; e intanto

  Colà gridava il solitario Piero:

  Già vinto è della selva il fero incanto:

  308 Già sen ritorna il vincitor guerriero.

  Vedilo; ed ei da lunge, in bianco manto,

  Comparia venerabile ed altero:

  E dell’aquila sua le argentee piume

  312 Splendeano al Sol d’inusitato lume.

  XXXIX

  From thence home to the campward turned the knight,

  The hermit cried, upstarting from his seat,

  “Now of the wood the charms have lost their might,

  The sprites are conquered, ended is the feat,

  See where he comes!” In glistering white all dight

  Appeared the man, bold, stately, high and great,

  His eagle’s silver wings to shine begun

  With wondrous splendor gainst the golden sun.

  XXXIX

  His lonely way then towards the camp pursued,

  Where Peter meanwhile cried, excitedly:

  ‘O’ercome’s the dread enchantment of the wood —

  Returns the victor from his victory.

  Lo! where he comes!’ Afar was seen to loom

  The snow-white mantle of Bertholdo’s son,

  And, with unwonted sheen, the silver plume

  Of Esters eagle glistered in the sun.

  XL.

  Ei dal campo giojoso alto saluto

  Ha con sonoro replicar di gridi:

  E poi con lieto onore è ricevuto

  316 Dal pio Buglione; e non è chi l’invídi.

  Dice al Duce il Guerriero: a quel temuto

  Bosco n’andai, come imponesti, e ‘l vidi:

  Vidi, e vinsi gl’incanti: or vadan pure

  320 Le genti là, chè son le vie sicure.

  XL

  The camp received him with a joyful cry,

  A cry the dales and hills about that flied;

  Then Godfrey welcomed him
with honors high,

  His glory quenched all spite, all envy killed:

  “To yonder dreadful grove,” quoth he, “went I,

  And from the fearful wood, as me you willed,

  Have driven the sprites away, thither let be

  Your people sent, the way is safe and free.”

  XL

  Arrived, the camp acknowledged its delight

  By deafening plaudits for the victory won;

  And pious Godfred welcomed back the knight

  With highest honours, that were grudged by none.

  ‘Sire,’ said Rinaldo, ‘to the dreadful wood

  I went, and saw it, as thou orderedst me;

  I saw, and its enchantments have subdued:

  Send, then, the workmen there — the ways are free,’

  XLI.

  Vassi all’antica selva: e quindi è tolta

  Materia tal qual buon giudizio elesse.

  E benchè oscuro fabbro arte non molta

  324 Por nelle prime machine sapesse;

  Pur artefice illustre a questa volta

  È colui ch’alle travi i vinchi intesse;

  Guglielmo, il Duce Ligure, che pria

  328 Signor del mare corseggiar solía.

  XLI

  Sent were the workmen thither, thence they brought

  Timber enough, by good advice select,

  And though by skilless builders framed and wrought

  Their engines rude and rams were late elect,

  Yet now the forts and towers from whence they fought

  Were framed by a cunning architect,

  William, of all the Genoese lord and guide,

  Which late ruled all the seas from side to side;

  XLI

  To the old wood they went, and felled each bough

  That practised judgment for the purpose chose.

  And tho’ the unskilled workmen knew not how

  The first machines adroitly to compose;

  This time an artist of celebrity

  The ponderous beams with pliant withies wove;

  William, the Genoese chief, who on the sea

  Was wont as corsair formerly to rove.

  XLII.

  Poi sforzato a ritrarsi, ei cesse i regni

  Al gran navigio Saracin de’ mari.

  Ed ora al campo conducea dai legni

  332 E le marittime arme, e i marinari.

  Ed era questi infra i più industri ingegni

  Ne’ meccanici ordigni uom senza pari.

  E cento seco avea fabbri minori,

  336 Di ciò ch’egli disegna esecutori.