Jersusalem Delivered

by Torquato Tasso

  To narrow shifts and last extremes they drive,

  Upon their foes so fierce the Pagans charge,

  And with good-fortune so their blows they give,

  That whom they hit, in spite of helm or targe,

  They deeply wound, or else of life deprive.

  At this their good success Argantes proud,

  Waxing more fell, thus roared and cried aloud:

  "This is not Antioch, nor the evening dark

  Can help your privy sleights with friendly shade,

  The sun yet shines, your falsehood can we mark,

  In other wise this bold assault is made;

  Of praise and glory quenchéd is the spark

  That made you first these eastern lands invade,

  Why cease you now? why take you not this fort?

  What! are you weary for a charge so short?"

  Thus ragéd he, and in such hellish sort

  Increased the fury in the brain-sick knight,

  That he esteemed that large and ample fort

  Too strait a field, wherein to prove his might,

  There where the breach had framed a new-made port,

  Himself he placed, with nimble skips and light,

  He cleared the passage out, and thus he cried

  To Solyman, that fought close by his side:

  "Come, Solyman, the time and place behold,

  That of our valors well may judge the doubt,

  What sayest thou? amongst these Christians bold,

  First leap he forth that holds himself most stout:"

  While thus his will the mighty champion told,

  Both Solyman and he at once leaped out,

  Fury the first provoked, disdain the last,

  Who scorned the challenge ere his lips it passed.

  Upon their foes unlookéd-for they flew,

  Each spited other for his virtue's sake,

  So many soldiers this fierce couple slew,

  So many shields they cleft and helms they break,

  So many ladders to the earth they threw,

  That well they seemed a mount thereof to make,

  Or else some vamure fit to save the town,

  Instead of that the Christians late beat down.

  The folk that strove with rage and haste before

  Who first the wall and rampire should ascend,

  Retire, and for that honor strive no more,

  Scantly they could their limbs and lives defend,

  They fled, their engines lost the Pagans tore

  In pieces small, their rams to naught they rend,

  And all unfit for further service make

  With so great force and rage their beams they brake.

  The Pagans ran transported with their ire,

  Now here, now there, and woful slaughters wrought,

  At last they calléd for devouring fire,

  Two burning pines against the tower they brought,

  So from the palace of their hellish sire,

  When all this world they would consume to naught,

  The fury sisters come with fire in hands,

  Shaking their snaky locks and sparkling brands:

  But noble Tancred, who this while applied

  Grave exhortations to his bold Latines,

  When of these knights the wondrous acts he spied,

  And saw the champions with their burning pines,

  He left his talk, and thither forthwith hied,

  To stop the rage of those fell Saracines.

  And with such force the fight he there renewed,

  That now they fled and lost who late pursued.

  Thus changed the state and fortune of the fray,

  Meanwhile the wounded duke, in grief and teen,

  Within his great pavilion rich and gay,

  Good Sigiere and Baldwin stood between;

  His other friends whom his mishap dismay,

  With grief and tears about assembled been:

  He strove in haste the weapon out to wind,

  And broke the reed, but left the head behind.

  He bade them take the speediest way they might,

  Of that unlucky hurt to make him sound,

  And to lay ope the depth thereof to sight,

  He willed them open, search and lance the wound,

  "Send me again," quoth he, "to end this fight,

  Before the sun be sunken under ground;"

  And leaning on a broken spear, he thrust

  His leg straight out, to him that cure it must.

  Erotimus, born on the banks of Po,

  Was he that undertook to cure the knight,

  All what green herbs or waters pure could do,

  He knew their power, their virtue, and their might,

  A noble poet was the man also,

  But in this science had a more delight,

  He could restore to health death-wounded men,

  And make their names immortal with his pen.

  The mighty duke yet never changéd cheer,

  But grieved to see his friends lamenting stand;

  The leech prepared his cloths and cleansing gear,

  And with a belt his gown about him band,

  Now with his herbs the steely head to tear

  Out of the flesh he proved, now with his hand,

  Now with his hand, now with his instrument

  He shaked and plucked it, yet not forth it went.

  His labor vain, his art prevailéd naught,

  His luck was ill, although his skill were good,

  To such extremes the wounded prince he brought,

  That with fell pain he swoonéd as he stood:

  But the angel pure, that kept him, went and sought

  Divine dictamnum, out of Ida wood,

  This herb is rough, and bears a purple flower,

  And in his budding leaves lies all his power.

  Kind nature first upon the craggy clift

  Bewrayed this herb unto the mountain goat,

  That when her sides a cruel shaft hath rift,

  With it she shakes the reed out of her coat;

  This in a moment fetched the angel swift,

  And brought from Ida hill, though far remote,

  The juice whereof in a preparéd bath

  Unseen the blesséd spirit pouréd hath.

  Pure nectar from that spring of Lydia than,

  And panaces divine therein he threw,

  The cunning leech to bathe the wound began,

  And of itself the steely head outflew;

  The bleeding stanched, no vermile drop outran,

  The leg again waxed strong with vigor new:

  Erotimus cried out, "This hurt and wound

  No human art or hand so soon makes sound:

  "Some angel good I think come down from skies

  Thy surgeon is, for here plain tokens are

  Of grace divine which to thy help applies,

  Thy weapon take and haste again to war,"

  In precious cloths his leg the chieftain ties,

  Naught could the man from blood and fight debar;

  A sturdy lance in his right hand he braced,

  His shield he took, and on his helmet laced:

  And with a thousand knights and barons bold,

  Toward the town he hasted from his camp,

  In clouds of dust was Titan's face enrolled,

  Trembled the earth whereon the worthies stamp,

  His foes far off his dreadful looks behold,

  Which in their hearts of courage quenched the lamp,

  A chilling fear ran cold through every vein,

  Lord Godfrey shouted thrice and all his train:

  Their sovereign's voice his hardy people knew,

  And his loud cries that cheered each fearful heart;

  Thereat new strength they took and courage new,

  And to the fierce assault again they start.

  The Pagans twain this while themselves withdrew

  Within the breach to save that battered part
,

  And with great loss a skirmish hot they hold

  Against Tancredi and his squadron bold.

  Thither came Godfrey arméd round about

  In trusty plate, with fierce and dreadful look;

  At first approach against Argantes stout

  Headed with poignant steel a lance he shook,

  No casting engine with such force throws out

  A knotty spear, and as the way it took,

  It whistled in the air, the fearless knight

  Opposed his shield against that weapon's might.

  The dreadful blow quite through his target drove,

  And boréd through his breastplate strong and thick,

  The tender skin it in his bosom rove,

  The purple-blood out-streaméd from the quick;

  To wrest it out the wounded Pagan strove

  And little leisure gave it there to stick;

  At Godfrey's head the lance again he cast,

  And said, "Lo, there again thy dart thou hast."

  The spear flew back the way it lately came,

  And would revenge the harm itself had done,

  But missed the mark whereat the man did aim,

  He stepped aside the furious blow to shun:

  But Sigiere in his throat received the same,

  The murdering weapon at his neck out-run,

  Nor aught it grieved the man to lose his breath,

  Since in his prince's stead he suffered death.

  Even then the Soldan struck with monstrous main

  The noble leader of the Norman band,

  He reeled awhile and staggered with the pain,

  And wheeling round fell grovelling on the sand:

  Godfrey no longer could the grief sustain

  Of these displeasures, but with flaming brand,

  Up to the breach in heat and haste he goes,

  And hand to hand there combats with his foes;

  And there great wonders surely wrought he had,

  Mortal the fight, and fierce had been the fray,

  But that dark night, from her pavilion sad,

  Her cloudy wings did on the earth display,

  Her quiet shades she interposéd glad

  To cause the knights their arms aside to lay;

  Godfrey withdrew, and to their tents they wend,

  And thus this bloody day was brought to end.

  The weak and wounded ere he left the field,

  The godly duke to safety thence conveyed,

  Nor to his foes his engines would he yield,

  In them his hope to win the fortress laid;

  Then to the tower he went, and it beheeld,

  The tower that late the Pagan lords dismayed

  But now stood bruised, broken, cracked and shivered,

  From some sharp storm as it were late delivered.

  From dangers great escaped, but late it was,

  And now to safety brought well-nigh it seems,

  But as a ship that under sail doth pass

  The roaring billows and the raging streams,

  And drawing nigh the wishéd port, alas,

  Breaks on some hidden rocks her ribs and beams;

  Or as a steed rough ways that well hath passed,

  Before his inn stumbleth and falls at last:

  Such hap befell that tower, for on that side

  Against which the Pagans' force and battery bend,

  Two wheels were broke whereon the piece should ride,

  The maiméd engine could no further wend,

  The troop that guarded it that part provide

  To underprop with posts, and it defend

  Till carpenters and cunning workmen came

  Whose skill should help and rear again the same.

  Thus Godfrey bids, and that ere springing-day,

  The cracks and bruises all amend they should,

  Each open passage, and each privy way

  About the piece, he kept with soldiers bold:

  But the loud rumor, both of that they say,

  And that they do, is heard within the hold,

  A thousand lights about the tower they view,

  And what they wrought all night both saw and knew.

  | Go to Contents |

  Twelfth Book

  THE ARGUMENT

  Clorinda hears her eunuch old report

  Her birth, her offspring, and her native land;

  Disguised she fireth Godfrey's rolling fort.

  The burnéd piece falls smoking on the sand:

  With Tancred long unknown in desperate sort

  She fights, and falls through piercéd with his brand:

  Christened she dies; with sighs, with plaints and tears.

  He wails her death; Argant revengement swears.

  NOW in dark night was all the world embarred;

  But yet the tiréd armies took no rest,

  The careful French kept heedful watch and ward,

  While their high tower the workmen newly dressed,

  The Pagan crew to reinforce prepared

  The weakened bulwarks, late to earth down kest,

  Their rampiers broke and bruiséd walls to mend,

  Lastly their hurts the wounded knights attend.

  Their wounds were dressed, part of the work was brought

  To wishéd end, part left to other days,

  A dull desire to rest deep midnight wrought,

  His heavy rod sleep on their eyelids lays:

  Yet rested not Clorinda's working thought,

  Which thirsted still for fame and warlike praise,

  Argantes eke accompanied the maid

  From place to place, which to herself thus said:

  "This day Argantes strong, and Solyman,

  Strange things have done, and purchased great renown,

  Among our foes out of the walls they ran,

  Their rams they broke and rent their engines down;

  I used my bow, of naught else boast I can,

  My self stood safe meanwhile within this town,

  And happy was my shot, and prosperous too,

  But that was all a woman's hand could do.

  "On birds and beasts in forests wild that feed

  It were more fit mine arrows to bestow,

  Than for a feeble maid in warlike deed

  With strong and hardy knights herself to show.

  Why take I not again my virgin's weed,

  And spend my days in secret cell unknow?"

  Thus thought, thus muséd, thus devised the maid,

  And turning to the knight, at last thus said:

  "My thoughts are full, my lord, of strange desire

  Some high attempt of war to undertake,

  Whether high God my mind therewith inspire

  Or of his will his God mankind doth make,

  Among our foes behold the light and fire,

  I will among them wend, and burn or break

  The tower, God grant therein I have my will

  And that performed, betide me good or ill.

  "But if it fortune such my chance should be,

  That to this town I never turn again,

  Mine eunuch, whom I dearly love, with thee

  I leave my faithful maids, and all my train,

  To Egypt then conducted safely see

  Those woful damsels and that agéd swain,

  Help them, my lord, in that distresséd case,

  Their feeble sex, his age, deserveth grace."

  Argantes wondering stood, and felt the effect

  Of true renown pierce through his glorious mind,

  "And wilt thou go," quoth he, "and me neglect,

  Disgraced, despised, leave in this fort behind?

  Shall I while these strong walls my life protect

  Behold thy flames and fires tossed in the wind,

  No, no, thy fellow have I been in arms,

  And will be still, in praise, in death, in harms.

  "This heart of mine death's bitter stroke despiseth,

>   For praise this life, for glory take this breath."

  "My soul and more," quoth she, "thy friendship prizeth,

  For this thy proffered aid required uneath,

  I but a woman am, no loss ariseth

  To this besiegéd city by my death,

  But if, as God forbid, this night thou fall,

  Ah! who shall then, who can, defend this wall!"

  "Too late these 'scuses vain," the knight replied,

  "You bring; my will is firm, my mind is set,

  I follow you whereso you list me guide,

  Or go before if you my purpose let."

  This said, they hasted to the palace wide

  About their prince where all his lords were met,

  Clorinda spoke for both, and said, "Sir king,

  Attend my words, hear, and allow the thing:

  "Argantes here, this bold and hardy knight,

  Will undertake to burn the wondrous tower,

  And I with him, only we stay till night

  Bury in sleep our foes at deadest hour."

  The king with that cast up his hands on height,

  The tears for joy upon his cheeks down pour.

  "Praiséd," quoth he, "be Macon whom we serve,

  This land I see he keeps and will preserve:

  "Nor shall so soon this shaken kingdom fall,

  While such unconquered hearts my state defend:

  But for this act what praise or guerdon shall

  I give your virtues, which so far extend?

  Let fame your praises sound through nations all,

  And fill the world therewith to either end,

  Take half my wealth and kingdom for your meed?

  You are rewarded half even with the deed."

  Thus spake the prince, and gently 'gan distrain,

  Now him, now her, between his friendly arms:

  The Soldan by, no longer could refrain

  That noble envy which his bosom warms,

  "Nor I," quoth he, "bear this broad sword in vain,

  Nor yet am unexpert in night alarms,

  Take me with you: ah." Quoth Clorinda, "no!

  Whom leave we here of prowess if you go?"

  This spoken, ready with a proud refuse

  Argantes was his proffered aid to scorn,

  Whom Aladine prevents, and with excuse

  To Solyman thus gan his speeches torn:

  "Right noble prince, as aye hath been your use

  Your self so still you bear and long have borne,

  Bold in all acts, no danger can affright

  Your heart, nor tiréd is your strength with fight.

  "If you went forth great things perform you would,

  In my conceit yet far unfit it seems

  That you, who most excel in courage bold,

  At once should leave this town in these extremes,

  Nor would I that these twain should leave this hold,