Jerusalem Delivered Part 29

x.x.xIX Mongst them he picked out these words at last, Writ in the Syriac tongue, which well he could, "Oh hardy knight, who through these woods hast pa.s.sed: Where Death his palace and his court doth hold!

Oh trouble not these souls in quiet placed, Oh be not cruel as thy heart is bold, Pardon these ghosts deprived of heavenly light, With spirits dead why should men living fight?"

XL This found he graven in the tender rind, And while he mused on this uncouth writ, Him thought he heard the softly whistling wind His blasts amid the leaves and branches knit And frame a sound like speech of human kind, But full of sorrow grief and woe was it, Whereby his gentle thoughts all filled were With pity, sadness, grief, compa.s.sion, fear.

XLI He drew his sword at last, and gave the tree A mighty blow, that made a gaping wound, Out of the rift red streams he trickling see That all bebled the verdant plain around, His hair start up, yet once again stroke he, He nould give over till the end he found Of this adventure, when with plaint and moan, As from some hollow grave, he heard one groan.

XLII "Enough, enough!" the voice lamenting said, "Tancred, thou hast me hurt, thou didst me drive Out of the body of a n.o.ble maid Who with me lived, whom late I kept on live, And now within this woful cypress laid, My tender rind thy weapon sharp doth rive, Cruel, is't not enough thy foes to kill, But in their graves wilt thou torment them still?

XLIII "I was Clorinda, now imprisoned here, Yet not alone within this plant I dwell, For every Pagan lord and Christian peer, Before the city's walls last day that fell, In bodies new or graves I wot not clear, But here they are confined by magic's spell, So that each tree hath life, and sense each bough, A murderer if thou cut one twist art thou."

XLIV As the sick man that in his sleep doth see Some ugly dragon, or some chimera new, Though he suspect, or half persuaded be, It is an idle dream, no monster true, Yet still he fears, he quakes, and strives to flee, So fearful is that wondrous form to view; So feared the knight, yet he both knew and thought All were illusions false by witchcraft wrought:

XLV But cold and trembling waxed his frozen heart, Such strange effects, such pa.s.sions it torment, Out of his feeble hand his weapon start, Himself out of his wits nigh, after went: Wounded he saw, he thought, for pain and smart, His lady weep, complain, mourn, and lament, Nor could he suffer her dear blood to see, Or hear her sighs that deep far fetched be.

XLVI Thus his fierce heart which death had scorned oft, Whom no strange shape or monster could dismay, With feigned shows of tender love made soft, A spirit false did with vain plaints betray; A whirling wind his sword heaved up aloft, And through the forest bare it quite away.

O'ercome retired the prince, and as he came, His sword he found, and repossessed the same,

XLVII Yet nould return, he had no mind to try His courage further in those forests green; But when to G.o.dfrey's tent he proached nigh, His spirits waked, his thoughts composed been, "My Lord." quoth he, "a witness true am I Of wonders strange, believe it scant though seen, What of the fire, the shades, the dreadful sound You heard, all true by proof myself have found;

XLVIII "A burning fire, so are those deserts charmed, Built like a battled wall to heaven was reared; Whereon with darts and dreadful weapons armed, Of monsters foul mis-shaped whole bands appeared; But through them all I pa.s.sed, unhurt, unharmed, No flame or threatened blow I felt or feared, Then rain and night I found, but straight again To day, the night, to suns.h.i.+ne turned the rain.

XLIX "What would you more? each tree through all that wood Hath sense, hath life, hath speech, like human kind, I heard their words as in that grove I stood, That mournful voice still, still I bear in mind: And, as they were of flesh, the purple blood At every blow streams from the wounded rind; No, no, not I, nor any else, I trow, Hath power to cut one leaf, one branch, one bough."

L While thus he said, the Christian's n.o.ble guide Felt uncouth strife in his contentious thought, He thought, what if himself in perzon tried Those witchcrafts strange, and bring those charms to naught, For such he deemed them, or elsewhere provide For timber easier got though further sought, But from his study he at last abraid, Called by the hermit old that to him said:

LI "Leave off thy hardy thought, another's hands Of these her plants the wood dispoilen shall, Now, now the fatal s.h.i.+p of conquest lands, Her sails are struck, her silver anchors fall, Our champion broken hath his worthless bands, And looseth from the soil which held him thrall, The time draws nigh when our proud foes in field Shall slaughtered lie, and Sion's fort shall yield."

LII This said, his visage shone with beams divine, And more than mortal was his voice's sound, G.o.dfredo's thought to other acts incline, His working brain was never idle found.

But in the Crab now did bright t.i.tan s.h.i.+ne, And scorched with scalding beams the parched ground, And made unfit for toil or warlike feat His soldiers, weak with labor, faint with sweat:

LIII The planets mild their lamps benign quenched out, And cruel stars in heaven did signorize, Whose influence cast fiery flames about And hot impressions through the earth and skies, The growing heat still gathered deeper rout, The noisome warmth through lands and kingdoms flies, A harmful night a hurtful day succeeds, And worse than both next morn her light outspreads.

LIV When Phoebus rose he left his golden weed, And donned a gite in deepest purple dyed, His sanguine beams about his forehead spread, A sad presage of ill that should betide, With vermeil drops at even his tresses bleed, Foreshows of future heat, from the ocean wide When next he rose, and thus increased still Their present harms with dread of future ill,

LV While thus he bent gainst earth his scorching rays, He burnt the flowers, burnt his Clytie dear, The leaves grew wan upon the withered sprays, The gra.s.s and growing herbs all parched were, Earth cleft in rifts, in floods their streams decays, The barren clouds with lightning bright appear, And mankind feared lest Climenes' child again Had driven awry his sire's ill-guided wain.

LVI As from a furnace flew the smoke to skies, Such smoke as that when d.a.m.ned Sodom brent, Within his caves sweet Zephyr silent lies, Still was the air, the rack nor came nor went, But o'er the lands with lukewarm breathing flies The southern wind, from sunburnt Afric sent, Which thick and warm his interrupted blasts Upon their bosoms, throats, and faces casts.

LVII Nor yet more comfort brought the gloomy night, In her thick shades was burning heat uprolled, Her sable mantle was embroidered bright With blazing stars and gliding fires for gold, Nor to refresh, sad earth, thy thirsty sprite, The n.i.g.g.ard moon let fall her May dews cold, And dried up the vital moisture was, In trees, in plants, in herbs, in flowers, in gra.s.s.

LVIII Sleep to his quiet dales exiled fled From these unquiet nights, and oft in vain The soldiers restless sought the G.o.d in bed, But most for thirst they mourned and most complain; For Juda's tyrant had strong poison shed, Poison that breeds more woe and deadly pain, Than Acheron or Stygian waters bring, In every fountain, cistern, well and spring:

LIX And little Siloe that his store bestows Of purest crystal on the Christian bands, The pebbles naked in his channel shows And scantly glides above the scorched sands, Nor Po in May when o'er his banks he flows, Nor Ganges, waterer of the Indian lands, Nor seven-mouthed Nile that yields all Egypt drink, To quench their thirst the men sufficient think.

LX He that the gliding rivers erst had seen Adown their verdant channels gently rolled, Or falling streams which to the valleys green Distilled from tops of Alpine mountains cold, Those he desired in vain, new torments been, Augmented thus with wish of comforts old, Those waters cool he drank in vain conceit, Which more increased his thirst, increased his heat.

LXI The st.u.r.dy bodies of the warriors strong, Whom neither marching far, nor tedious way, Nor weighty arms which on their shoulders hung, Could weary make, nor death itself dismay; Now weak and feeble cast their limbs along, Unwieldly burdens, on the burned clay, And in each vein a smouldering fire there dwelt, Which dried their flesh and solid bones did melt.

LXII Languished the steed late fierce, and proffered gra.s.s, His fodder erst, despised and from him cast, Each step he stumbled, and which lofty was And high advanced before now fell his crest, His conquests gotten all forgotten pa.s.s, Nor with desire of glory swelled his breast, The spoils won from his foe, his late rewards, He now neglects, despiseth, naught regards.

LXIII Languished the faithful dog, and wonted care Of his dear lord and cabin both forgot, Panting he laid, and gathered fresher air To cool the burning in his entrails hot: But breathing, which wise nature did prepare To suage the stomach's heat, now booted not, For little ease, alas, small help, they win That breathe forth air and scalding fire suck in.

LXIV Thus languished the earth, in this estate Lay woful thousands of the Christians stout, The faithful people grew nigh desperate Of hoped conquest, shameful death they doubt, Of their distress they talk and oft debate, These sad complaints were heard the camp throughout: "What hope hath G.o.dfrey? shall we still here lie Till all his soldiers, all our armies die?

LXV "Alas, with what device, what strength, thinks he To scale these walls, or this strong fort to get?

Whence hath he engines new? doth he not see, How wrathful Heaven gainst us his sword doth whet?

These tokens shown true signs and witness be Our angry G.o.d our proud attempts doth let, And scorching sun so hot his beams outspreads, That not more cooling Inde nor Aethiop needs.

LXVI "Or thinks he it an eath or little thing That us despised, neglected, and disdained, Like abjects vile, to death he thus should bring, That so his empire may be still maintained?

Is it so great a bliss to be a king, When he that wears the crown with blood is stained And buys his sceptre with his people's lives?

See whither glory vain, fond mankind drives.

LXVII "See, see the man, called holy, just, and good, That courteous, meek, and humble would be thought, Yet never cared in what distress we stood If his vain honor were diminished naught, When dried up from us his spring and flood His water must from Jordan streams be brought, And how he sits at feasts and banquets sweet And mingleth waters fresh with wines of Crete."

LXVIII The French thus murmured, but the Greekish knight Tatine, that of this war was weary grown: "Why die we here," quoth he, "slain without fight, Killed, not subdued, murdered, not overthrown?

Upon the Frenchmen let the penance light Of G.o.dfrey's folly, let me save mine own,"

And as he said, without farewell, the knight And all his comet stole away by night.

LXIX His bad example many a troop prepares To imitate, when his escape they know, 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.

LXX G.o.dfredo 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:

LXXI "Father and Lord, if in the deserts waste Thou hadst compa.s.sion 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."

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:

LXXIII "Mine armies dear till now have suffered woe, Distress and danger, h.e.l.l'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."

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.

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 cras.h.i.+ng rain from molten skies down fell, And o'er their banks the brooks and fountains swell.

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 refres.h.i.+ng take:

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.

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 c.h.i.n.ks, 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 gra.s.s.

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.

Lx.x.x Ceased the rain, the sun began to s.h.i.+ne, 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.

FOURTEENTH BOOK

THE ARGUMENT.

The Lord to G.o.dfrey in a dream doth show 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.