XXIII The islanders came then their prince before Whose lands Arabia's gulf enclosed about, Wherein they fish and gather oysters store, Whose shells great pearls rich and round pour out; The Red Sea sent with them from his left shore, Of negroes grim a black and ugly rout; These Agricalt and those Osmida brought, A man that set law, faith and truth at naught.

XXIV The Ethiops next which Meroe doth breed, That sweet and gentle isle of Meroe, Twixt Nile and Astrabore that far doth spread, Where two religions are, and kingdoms three, These Assimiro and Canario led, Both kings, both Pagans, and both subjects be To the great Caliph, but the third king kept Christ's sacred faith, nor to these wars outstepped.

XXV After two kings, both subjects also, ride, And of two bands of archers had the charge, The first Soldan of Ormus placed in the wide Huge Persian Bay, a town rich, fair, and large: The last of Boecan, which at every tide The sea cuts off from Persia's southern marge, And makes an isle; but when it ebbs again, The passage there is sandy, dry and plain.

XXVI Nor thee, great Altamore, in her chaste bed Thy loving queen kept with her dear embrace, She tore her locks, she smote her breast, and shed Salt tears to make thee stay in that sweet place, "Seem the rough seas more calm, cruel," she said, "Than the mild looks of thy kind spouse's face? Or is thy shield, with blood and dust defiled, A dearer armful than thy tender child?"

XXVII This was the mighty king of Samarcand, A captain wise, well skilled in feats of war, In courage fierce, matchless for strength of hand, Great was his praise, his force was noised far; His worth right well the Frenchmen understand, By whom his virtues feared and loved are: His men were armed with helms and hauberks strong, And by their sides broad swords and maces hong.

XXVIII Then from the mansions bright of fresh Aurore Adrastus came, the glorious king of Ind, A snake's green skin spotted with black he wore, That was made rich by art and hard by kind, An elephant this furious giant bore, He fierce as fire, his mounture swift as wind; Much people brought he from his kingdoms wide, Twixt Indus, Ganges, and the salt seaside.

XXIX The king's own troop come next, a chosen crew, Of all the camp the strength, the crown, the flower, Wherein each soldier had with honors due Rewarded been, for service ere that hour; Their arms were strong for need, and fair for show, Upon fierce steeds well mounted rode this power, And heaven itself with the clear splendor shone Of their bright armor, purple, gold and stone.

XXX Mongst these Alarco fierce, and Odemare The muster master was, and Hidraort, And Rimedon, whose rashness took no care To shun death's bitter stroke, in field or fort, Tigranes, Rapold stem, the men that fare By sea, that robbed in each creek and port, Ormond, and Marlabust the Arabian named, Because that land rebellious he reclaimed.

XXXI There Pirga, Arimon, Orindo are, Brimarte the scaler, and with him Suifant The breaker of wild horses brought from far; Then the great wresteler strong Aridamant, And Tisapherne, the thunderbolt of war, Whom none surpassed, whom none to match durst vaunt At tilt, at tourney, or in combat brave, With spear or lance, with sword, with mace or glaive.

XXXII A false Armenian did this squadron guide, That in his youth from Christ's true faith and light To the blind lore of Paganism did slide, That Clement late, now Emireno, hight; Yet to his king he faithful was, and tried True in all causes, his in wrong and right: A cunning leader and a soldier bold, For strength and courage, young; for wisdom, old.

XXXIII When all these regiments were passed and gone, Appeared Armide, and came her troop to show; Set in a chariot bright with precious stone, Her gown tucked up, and in her hand a bow; In her sweet face her new displeasures shone, Mixed with the native beauties there which grow, And quickened so her looks that in sharp wise It seems she threats and yet her threats entice.

XXXIV Her chariot like Aurora's glorious wain, With carbuncles and jacinths glistered round: Her coachman guided with the golden rein Four unicorns, by couples yoked and bound; Of squires and lovely ladies hundreds twain, Whose rattling quivers at their backs resound, On milk-white steeds, wait on the chariot bright, Their steeds to manage, ready; swift, to flight.

XXXV Followed her troop led forth by Aradin, Which Hidraort from Syria's kingdom sent, As when the new-born phoenix doth begin To fly to Ethiop-ward, at the fair bent Of her rich wings strange plumes and feathers thin Her crowns and chains with native gold besprent, The world amazed stands; and with her fly An host of wondering birds, that sing and cry:

XXXVI So passed Armida, looked on, gazed on, so, A wondrous dame in habit, gesture, face; There lived no wight to love so great a foe But wished and longed those beauties to embrace, Scant seen, with anger sullen, sad for woe, She conquered all the lords and knights in place, What would she do, her sorrows passed, think you, When her fair eyes, her looks and smiles shall woo?

XXXVII She passed, the king commanded Emiren Of his rich throne to mount the lofty stage, To whom his host, his army, and his men, He would commit, now in his graver age. With stately grace the man approached then; His looks his coming honor did presage: The guard asunder cleft and passage made, He to the throne up went, and there he stayed.

XXXVIII To earth he cast his eyes, and bent his knee: To whom the king thus gan his will explain, "To thee this sceptre, Emiren, to thee These armies I commit, my place sustain Mongst them, go set the king of Judah free, And let the Frenchmen feel my just disdain, Go meet them, conquer them, leave none alive; Or those that scape from battle, bring captive."

XXXIX Thus spake the tyrant. and the sceptre laid With all his sovereign power upon the knight: "I take this sceptre at your hand," he said, "And with your happy fortune go to fight, And trust, my lord, in your great virtue's aid To venge all Asia's harms, her wrongs to right, Nor e'er but victor will I see your face; Our overthrow shall bring death, not disgrace.

XL "Heavens grant if evil, yet no mishap I dread, Or harm they threaten against this camp of thine, That all that mischief fall upon my head, Theirs be the conquest, and the danger mine; And let them safe bring home their captain dead, Buried in pomp of triumph's glorious shine." He ceased, and then a murmur loud up went, With noise of joy and sound of instrument.

XLI Amid the noise and shout uprose the king, Environed with many a noble peer That to his royal tent the monarch bring, And there he feasted them and made them cheer, To him and him he talked, and carved each thing, The greatest honored, meanest graced were; And while this mirth, this joy and feast doth last, Armida found fit time her nets to cast:

XLII But when the feast was done, she, that espied All eyes on her fair visage fixed and bent, And by new notes and certain signs described, How love's empoisoned fire their entrails brent, Arose, and where the king sate in his pride, With stately pace and humble gestures, went; And as she could in looks in voice she strove Fierce, stern, bold, angry, and severe to prove.

XLIII "Great Emperor, behold me here," she said. "For thee, my country, and my faith to fight, A dame, a virgin, but a royal maid; And worthy seems this war a princess hight, For by the sword the sceptre is upstayed, This hand can use them both with skill and might, This hand of mine can strike, and at each blow Thy foes and ours kill, wound, and overthrow.

XLIV "Nor yet suppose this is the foremost day Wherein to war I bent my noble thought, But for the surety of thy realms, and stay Of our religion true, ere this I wrought: Yourself best know if this be true I say, Or if my former deeds rejoiced you aught, When Godfrey's hardy knights and princes strong I captive took, and held in bondage long.

XLV "I took them, bound them, and so sent them bound To thee, a noble gift, with whom they had Condemned low in dungeon under ground Forever dwelt, in woe and torment sad: So might thine host an easy way have found To end this doubtful war, with conquest glad, Had not Rinaldo fierce my knights all slain, And set those lords, his friends, at large again.

XLVI "Rinaldo is well known," and there a long And true rehearsal made she of his deeds, "This is the knight that since hath done me wrong, Wrong yet untold, that sharp revengement needs: Displeasure therefore, mixed with reason strong, This thirst of war in me, this courage breeds; Nor how he injured me time serves to tell, Let this suffice, I seek revengement fell,

XLVII "And will procure it, for all shafts that fly Light not in vain; some work the shooter's will, And Jove's right hand with thunders cast from sky Takes open vengeance oft for secret ill: But if some champion dare this knight defy To mortal battle, and by fight him kill, And with his hateful head will me present, That gift my soul shall please, my heart content:

XLVIII "So please, that for reward enjoy he shall, The greatest gift I can or may afford, Myself, my beauty, wealth, and kingdoms all, To marry him, and take him for my lord, This promise will I keep whate'er befall, And thereto bind myself by oath and word: Now he that deems this purchase worth his pain, Let him step forth and speak, I none disdain."

XLIX While thus the princess said, his hungry eyne Adrastus fed on her sweet beauty's light, "The gods forbid," quoth he, "one shaft of thine Should be discharged gainst that discourteous knight, His heart unworthy is, shootress divine, Of thine artillery to feel the might; To wreak thine ire behold me prest and fit, I will his head cut off, and bring thee it.

L "I will his heart with this sharp sword divide, And to the vultures cast his carcass out." Thus threatened he, but Tisapherne envied To hear his glorious vaunt and boasting stout, And said, "But who art thou, that so great pride Thou showest before the king, me, and this rout? Pardie here are some such, whose worth exceeds Thy vaunting much yet boast not of their deeds."

LI The Indian fierce replied, "I am the man Whose acts his words and boasts have aye surpassed; But if elsewhere the words thou now began Had uttered been, that speech had been thy last." Thus quarrelled they; the monarch stayed them than, And 'twixt the angry knights his sceptre cast: Then to Armida said, "Fair Queen, I see Thy heart is stout, thy thoughts courageous be;

LII "Thou worthy art that their disdain and ire At thy commands these knights should both appease, That gainst thy foe their courage hot as fire Thou may'st employ, both when and where you please, There all their power and force, and what desire They have to serve thee, may they show at ease." The monarch held his peace when this was said, And they new proffer of their service made.

LIII Nor they alone, but all that famous were In feats of arms boast that he shall be dead, All offer her their aid, all say and swear, To take revenge on his condemned head: So many arms moved she against her dear, And swore her darling under foot to tread, But he, since first the enchanted isle he left, Safe in his barge the roaring waves still cleft.

LIV By the same way returned the well-taught boat By which it came, and made like haste, like speed; The friendly wind, upon her sail that smote, So turned as to return her ship had need: The youth sometimes the Pole or Bear did note, Or wandering stars which dearest nights forthspread: Sometimes the floods, the hills, or mountains steep, Whose woody fronts o'ershade the silent deep.

LV Now of the camp the man the state inquires, Now asks the customs strange of sundry lands; And sailed, till clad in beams and bright attires The fourth day's sun on the eastern threshold stands: But when the western seas had quenched those fires, Their frigate struck against the shore and sands; Then spoke their guide, "The land of Palestine This is, here must your journey end and mine."

LVI The knights she set upon the shore all three, And vanished thence in twinkling of an eye, Uprose the night in whose deep blackness be All colors hid of things in earth or sky, Nor could they house, or hold, or harbor see, Or in that desert sign of dwelling spy, Nor track of man or horse, or aught that might Inform them of some path or passage right.

LVII When they had mused what way they travel should, From the west shore their steps at last they twined, And lo, far off at last their eyes behold Something, they wist not what, that clearly shined With rays of silver and with beams of gold Which the dark folds of night's black mantle lined. Forward they went and marched against the light, To see and find the thing that shone so bright.

LVIII High on a tree they saw an armor new, That glistered bright gainst Cynthia's silver ray, Therein, like stars in skies, the diamonds show Fret in the gilden helm and hauberk gay, The mighty shield all scored full they view Of pictures fair, ranged in meet array; To keep them sate an aged man beside, Who to salute them rose, when them he spied.

LIX The twain who first were sent in this pursuit Of their wise friend well knew the aged face: But when the wizard sage their first salute Received and quitted had with kind embrace, To the young prince, that silent stood and mute, He turned his speech, "In this unused place For you alone I wait, my lord," quoth he, "My chiefest care your state and welfare be.

LX "For, though you wot it not, I am your friend, And for your profit work, as these can tell, I taught them how Armida's charms to end, And bring you thither from love's hateful cell, Now to my words, though sharp perchance, attend, Nor be aggrieved although they seem too fell, But keep them well in mind, till in the truth A wise and holier man instruct thy youth.

LXI "Not underneath sweet shades and fountains shrill, Among the nymphs, the fairies, leaves and flowers; But on the steep, the rough and craggy hill Of virtue stands this bliss, this good of ours: By toil and travel, not by sitting still In pleasure's lap, we come to honor's bowers; Why will you thus in sloth's deep valley lie? The royal eagles on high mountains fly.

LXII "Nature lifts up thy forehead to the skies, And fills thy heart with high and noble thought, That thou to heavenward aye shouldst lift thine eyes, And purchase fame by deeds well done and wrought; She gives thee ire, by which not courage flies To conquests, not through brawls and battles fought For civil jars, nor that thereby you might Your wicked malice wreak and cursed spite.

LXIII "But that your strength spurred forth with noble wrath, With greater fury might Christ's foes assault, And that your bridle should with lesser scath Each secret vice, and kill each inward fault; For so his godly anger ruled hath Each righteous man beneath heaven's starry vault, And at his will makes it now hot, now cold, Now lets it run, now doth it fettered hold."

LXIV Thus parleyed he; Rinaldo, hushed and still, Great wisdom heard in those few words compiled, He marked his speech, a purple blush did fill His guilty checks, down went his eyesight mild. The hermit by his bashful looks his will Well understood, and said, "Look up, my child, And painted in this precious shield behold The glorious deeds of thy forefathers old.

LXV "Thine elders' glory herein see and know, In virtue's path how they trod all their days, Whom thou art far behind, a runner slow In this true course of honor, fame and praise: Up, up, thyself incite by the fair show Of knightly worth which this bright shield bewrays, That be thy spur to praise!" At last the knight Looked up, and on those portraits bent his sight.

LXVI The cunning workman had in little space Infinite shapes of men there well expressed, For there described was the worthy race And pedigree of all of the house of Est: Come from a Roman spring o'er all the place Flowed pure streams of crystals east and west, With laurel crowned stood the princes old, Their wars the hermit and their battles told.

LXVII He showed them Caius first, when first in prey To people strange the falling empire went, First Prince of Est, that did the sceptre sway O'er such as chose him lord by tree consent; His weaker neighbors to his rule obey, Need made them stoop, constraint doth force content; After, when Lord Honorius called the train Of savage Goths into his land again,

LXVIII And when all Italy did burn and flame With bloody war, by this fierce people mad, When Rome a captive and a slave became, And to be quite destroyed was most afraid, Aurelius, to his everlasting fame, Preserved in peace the folk that him obeyed: Next whom was Forest, who the rage withstood Of the bold Huns, and of their tyrant proud.

LXIX Known by his look was Attila the fell, Whose dragon eyes shone bright with anger's spark, Worse faced than a dog, who viewed him well Supposed they saw him grin and heard him bark; But when in single fight he lost the bell, How through his troops he fled there might you mark, And how Lord Forest after fortified Aquilea's town, and how for it he died.

LXX For there was wrought the fatal end and fine, Both of himself and of the town he kept: But his great son renowned Acarine, Into his father's place and honor stepped: To cruel fate, not to the Huns, Altine Gave place, and when time served again forth leapt, And in the vale of Po built for his seat Of many a village a small city great;

LXXI Against the swelling flood he banked it strong, And thence uprose the fair and noble town Where they of Est should by succession long Command, and rule in bliss and high renown: Gainst Odoacer then he fought, but wrong Oft spoileth right, fortune treads courage down, For there he died for his dear country's sake, And of his father's praise did so partake.

LXXII With him died Alforisio, Azzo was With his dear brother into exile sent, But homeward they in arms again repass — The Herule king oppressed — from banishment. His front through pierced with a dart, alas, Next them, of Est the Epaminondas went, That smiling seemed to cruel death to yield, When Totila was fled, and safe his shield.

LXXIII Of Boniface I speak; Valerian, His son, in praise and power succeeded him, Who durst sustain, in years though scant a man, Of the proud Goths an hundred squadrons trim: Then he that gainst the Sclaves much honor wan, Ernesto, threatening stood with visage grim; Before him Aldoard, the Lombard stout Who from Monselce boldly erst shut out.

LXXIV There Henry was and Berengare the bold That served great Charles in his conquest high, Who in each battle give the onset would, A hardy soldier and a captain sly; After, Prince Lewis did he well uphold Against his nephew, King of Italy, He won the field and took that king on live: Next him stood Otho with his children five.

LXXV Of Almeric the image next they view, Lord Marquis of Ferrara first create, Founder of many churches, that upthrew His eyes, like one that used to contemplate; Gainst him the second Azzo stood in rew, With Berengarius that did long debate, Till after often change of fortune stroke, He won, and on all Italy laid the yoke.

LXXVI Albert his son the Germans warred among, And there his praise and fame was spread so wide, That having foiled the Danes in battle strong, His daughter young became great Otho's bride. Behind him Hugo stood with warfare long, That broke the horn of all the Romans' pride, Who of all Italy the marquis hight, And Tuscan whole possessed as his right.

LXXVII After Tebaldo, puissant Boniface And Beatrice his dear possessed the stage; Nor was there left heir male of that great race, To enjoy the sceptre, state and heritage; The Princess Maud alone supplied the place, Supplied the want in number, sex and age; For far above each sceptre, throne and crown, The noble dame advanced her veil and gown.

LXXVIII With manlike vigor shone her noble look, And more than manlike wrath her face o'erspread, There the fell Normans, Guichard there forsook The field, till then who never feared nor fled; Henry the Fourth she beat, and from him took His standard, and in Church it offered; Which done, the Pope back to the Vatican She brought, and placed in Peter's chair again.

LXXIX As he that honored her and held her dear, Azzo the Fifth stood by her lovely side; But the fourth Azzo's offspring far and near Spread forth, and through Germania fructified; Sprung from the branch did Guelpho bold appear, Guelpho his son by Cunigond his bride, And in Bavaria's field transplanted new The Roman graft flourished, increased and grew.

LXXX A branch of Est there in the Guelfian tree Engrafted was, which of itself was old, Whereon you might the Guelfoes fairer see, Renew their sceptres and their crowns of gold, Of which Heaven's good aspects so bended be That high and broad it spread and flourished bold, Till underneath his glorious branches laid Half Germany, and all under his shade.

LXXXI This regal plant from his Italian rout Sprung up as high, and blossomed fair above, Fornenst Lord Guelpho, Bertold issued out, With the sixth Azzo whom all virtues love; This was the pedigree of worthies stout, Who seemed in that bright shield to live and move. Rinaldo waked up and cheered his face, To see these worthies of his house and race.

LXXXII To do like acts his courage wished and sought, And with that wish transported him so far That all those deeds which filled aye his thought, Towns won, forts taken, armies killed in war, As if they were things done indeed and wrought, Before his eyes he thinks they present are, He hastily arms him, and with hope and haste, Sure conquest met, prevented and embraced.

LXXXIII But Charles, who had told the death and fall Of the young prince of Danes, his late dear lord, Gave him the fatal weapon, and withal, "Young knight," quoth he, "take with good luck this sword, Your just, strong, valiant hand in battle shall Employ it long, for Christ's true faith and word, And of his former lord revenge the wrongs, Who loved you so, that deed to you belongs."

LXXXIV He answered, "God for his mercy's sake, Grant that this hand which holds this weapon good For thy dear master may sharp vengeance take, May cleave the Pagan's heart, and shed his blood." To this but short reply did Charles make, And thanked him much, nor more on terms they stood: For lo, the wizard sage that was their guide On their dark journey hastes them forth to ride.

LXXXV "High time it is," quoth he, "for you to wend Where Godfrey you awaits, and many a knight, There may we well arrive ere night doth end, And through this darkness can I guide you right." This said, up to his coach they all ascend, On his swift wheels forth rolled the chariot light, He gave his coursers fleet the rod and rein, And galloped forth and eastward drove amain;

LXXXVI While silent so through night's dark shade they fly, The hermit thus bespake the young man stout: "Of thy great house, thy race, thine offspring high, Here hast thou seen the branch, the bole, the root, And as these worthies born to chivalry And deeds of arms it hath tofore brought out, So is it, so it shall be fertile still, Nor time shall end, nor age that seed shall kill.

LXXXVII "Would God, as drawn from the forgetful lap Of antique time, I have thine elders shown; That so I could the catalogue unwrap Of thy great nephews yet unborn, unknown, That ere this light they view, their fate and hap I might foretell, and how their chance is thrown, That like thine elders so thou mightst behold Thy children, many, famous, stout and bold.

LXXXVIII "But not by art or skill, of things future Can the plain truth revealed be and told, Although some knowledge doubtful, dark, obscure We have of coming haps in clouds uprolled; Nor all which in this cause I know for sure Dare I foretell: for of that father old, The hermit Peter, learned I much, and he Withouten veil heaven's secrets great doth see.

LXXXIX "But this, to him revealed by grace divine, By him to me declared, to thee I say, Was never race Greek, barbarous, or Latine, Great in times past, or famous at this day, Richer in hardy knights than this of thine; Such blessings Heaven shall on thy children lay That they in fame shall pass, in praise o'ercome, The worthies old of Sparta, Carthage, Rome.

XC "But mongst the rest I chose Alphonsus bold, In virtue first, second in place and name, He shall be born when this frail world grows old, Corrupted, poor, and bare of men of fame, Better than he none shall, none can, or could, The sword or sceptre use or guide the same, To rule in peace or to command in fight, Thine offspring's glory and thy house's light.

XCI "His younger age foretokens true shall yield Of future valor, puissance, force and might, From him no rock the savage beast shall shield; At tilt or tourney match him shall no knight: After, he conquer shall in pitched field Great armies and win spoils in single fight, And on his locks, rewards for knightly praise, Shall garlands wear of grass, of oak, of bays.

XCII "His graver age, as well that eild it fits, Shall happy peace preserve and quiet blest, And from his neighbors strong mongst whom he sits Shall keep his cities safe in wealth and rest, Shall nourish arts and cherish pregnant wits, Make triumphs great, and feast his subjects best, Reward the good, the evil with pains torment, Shall dangers all foresee, and seen, prevent.

XCIII "But if it hap against those wicked bands That sea and earth invest with blood and war, And in these wretched times to noble lands Give laws of peace false and unjust that are, That he be sent, to drive their guilty hands From Christ's pure altars and high temples far, Oh, what revenge, what vengeance shall he bring On that false sect, and their accursed king!

XCIV "Too late the Moors, too late the Turkish king, Gainst him should arm their troops and legions bold For he beyond great Euphrates should bring, Beyond the frozen tops of Taurus cold, Beyond the land where is perpetual spring, The cross, the eagle white, the lily of gold, And by baptizing of the Ethiops brown Of aged Nile reveal the springs unknown."

XCV Thus said the hermit, and his prophecy The prince accepted with content and pleasure, The secret thought of his posterity Of his concealed joys heaped up the measure. Meanwhile the morning bright was mounted high, And changed Heaven's silver wealth to golden treasure, And high above the Christian tents they view How the broad ensigns trembled, waved and blew,

XCVI When thus again their leader sage begun, "See how bright Phoebus clears the darksome skies, See how with gentle beams the friendly sun The tents, the towns, the hills and dales descries, Through my well guiding is your voyage done, From danger safe in travel off which lies, Hence without fear of harm or doubt of foe March to the camp, I may no nearer go."

XCVII Thus took he leave, and made a quick return, And forward went the champions three on foot, And marching right against the rising morn A ready passage to the camp found out, Meanwhile had speedy fame the tidings borne That to the tents approached these barons stout, And starting from his throne and kingly seat To entertain them, rose Godfredo great.



EIGHTEENTH BOOK

THE ARGUMENT. The charms and spirits false therein which lie Rinaldo chaseth from the forest old; The host of Egypt comes; Vafrin the spy Entereth their camp, stout, crafty, wise and bold; Sharp is the fight about the bulwarks high And ports of Zion, to assault the hold: Godfrey hath aid from Heaven, by force the town Is won, the Pagans slain, walls beaten down.

I Arrived where Godfrey to embrace him stood, "My sovereign lord," Rinaldo meekly said, "To venge my wrongs against Gernando proud My honor's care provoked my wrath unstayed; But that I you displeased, my chieftain good, My thoughts yet grieve, my heart is still dismayed, And here I come, prest all exploits to try To make me gracious in your gracious eye."

II To him that kneeled, folding his friendly arms About his neck, the duke this answer gave: "Let pass such speeches sad, of passed harms. Remembrance is the life of grief; his grave, Forgetfulness; and for amends, in arms Your wonted valor use and courage brave; For you alone to happy end must bring The strong enchantments of the charmed spring.

III "That aged wood whence heretofore we got, To build our scaling engines, timber fit, Is now the fearful seat, but how none wot, Where ugly fiends and damned spirits sit; To cut one twist thereof adventureth not The boldest knight we have, nor without it This wall can battered be: where others doubt There venture thou, and show thy courage stout."

IV Thus said he, and the knight in speeches few Proffered his service to attempt the thing, To hard assays his courage willing flew, To him praise was no spur, words were no sting; Of his dear friends then he embraced the crew To welcome him which came; for in a ring About him Guelpho, Tancred and the rest Stood, of the camp the greatest, chief and best.

V When with the prince these lords had iterate Their welcomes oft, and oft their dear embrace, Toward the rest of lesser worth and state, He turned, and them received with gentle grace; The merry soldiers bout him shout and prate, With cries as joyful and as cheerful face As if in triumph's chariot bright as sun, He had returned Afric or Asia won.

VI Thus marched to his tent the champion good, And there sat down with all his friends around; Now of the war he asked, now of the wood, And answered each demand they list propound; But when they left him to his ease, up stood The hermit, and, fit time to speak once found, "My lord," he said, "your travels wondrous are, Far have you strayed, erred, wandered far.

VII "Much are you bound to God above, who brought You safe from false Armida's charmed hold, And thee a straying sheep whom once he bought Hath now again reduced to his fold, And gainst his heathen foes these men of naught Hath chosen thee in place next Godfrey bold; Yet mayest thou not, polluted thus with sin, In his high service war or fight begin.

VIII "The world, the flesh, with their infection vile Pollute the thoughts impure, thy spirit stain; Not Po, not Ganges, not seven-mouthed Nile, Not the wide seas, can wash thee clean again, Only to purge all faults which thee defile His blood hath power who for thy sins was slain: His help therefore invoke, to him bewray Thy secret faults, mourn, weep, complain and pray."

IX This said, the knight first with the witch unchaste His idle loves and follies vain lamented; Then kneeling low with heavy looks downcast, His other sins confessed and all repented, And meekly pardon craved for first and last. The hermit with his zeal was well contented, And said, "On yonder hill next morn go pray That turns his forehead gainst the morning ray.

X "That done, march to the wood, whence each one brings Such news of furies, goblins, fiends, and sprites, The giants, monsters, and all dreadful things Thou shalt subdue, which that dark grove unites: Let no strange voice that mourns or sweetly sings, Nor beauty, whose glad smile frail hearts delights, Within thy breast make ruth or pity rise, But their false looks and prayers false despise."

XI Thus he advised him, and the hardy knight Prepared him gladly to this enterprise, Thoughtful he passed the day, and sad the night; And ere the silver morn began to rise, His arms he took, and in a coat him dight Of color strange, cut in the warlike guise; And on his way sole, silent, forth he went Alone, and left his friends, and left his tent.

XII It was the time when gainst the breaking day Rebellious night yet strove, and still repined, For in the east appeared the morning gray And yet some lamps in Jove's high palace shined, When to Mount Olivet he took his way, And saw, as round about his eyes he twined, Night's shadows hence, from thence the morning's shine, This bright, that dark; that earthly, this divine.

XIII Thus to himself he thought, how many bright And splendent lamps shine in heaven's temple high, Day hath his golden sun, her moon the night, Her fixed and wandering stars the azure sky, So framed all by their Creator's might That still they live and shine, and ne'er shall die Till, in a moment, with the last day's brand They burn, and with them burn sea, air, and land.

XIV Thus as he mused, to the top he went, And there kneeled down with reverence and fear, His eyes upon heaven's eastern face he bent, His thoughts above all heavens uplifted were: "The sins and errors, which I now repent, Of mine unbridled youth, O Father dear, Remember not, but let thy mercy fall, And purge my faults and mine offences all."

XV Thus prayed he, with purple wings upflew In golden weed the morning's lusty queen, Begilding with the radiant beams she threw His helm, his harness, and the mountain green; Upon his breast and forehead gently blew The air, that balm and nardus breathed unseen, And o'er his head let down from clearest skies A cloud of pure and precious clew there flies.

XVI The heavenly dew was on his garments spread, To which compared, his clothes pale ashes seem, And sprinkled so, that all that paleness fled And thence, of purest white, bright rays outstream; So cheered are the flowers late withered With the sweet comfort of the morning beam, And so, returned to youth, a serpent old Adorns herself in new and native gold.

XVII The lovely whiteness of his changed weed, The Prince perceived well, and long admired; Toward the forest marched he on with speed, Resolved, as such adventures great required; Thither he came whence shrinking back for dread Of that strange desert's sight the first retired, But not to him fearful or loathsome made That forest was, but sweet with pleasant shade:

XVIII Forward he passed, mid in the grove before He heard a sound that strange, sweet, pleasing was; There rolled a crystal brook with gentle roar, There sighed the winds as through the leaves they pass, There did the nightingale her wrongs deplore, There sung the swan, and singing died, alas! There lute, harp, cittern, human voice he heard, And all these sounds one sound right well declared.

XIX A dreadful thunder-clap at last he heard, The aged trees and plants well-nigh that rent; Yet heard the nymphs and sirens afterward, Birds, winds, and waters, sing with sweet consent: Whereat amazed he stayed, and well prepared For his defence, heedful and slow forth went: Nor in his way his passage aught withstood, Except a quiet, still, transparent flood.

XX On the green banks which that fair stream inbound, Flowers and odors sweetly smiled and smelled, Which reaching out his stretched arms around, All the large desert in his bosom held, And through the grove one channel passage found; That in the wood; in that, the forest dwelled: Trees clad the streams; streams green those trees aye made And so exchanged their moisture and their shade.

XXI The knight some way sought out the flood to pass, And as he sought, a wondrous bridge appeared, A bridge of gold, a huge and weighty mass, On arches great of that rich metal reared; When through that golden way he entered was, Down fell the bridge, swelled the stream, and weared The work away, nor sign left where it stood, And of a river calm became a flood.

XXII He turned, amazed to see it troubled so, Like sudden brooks increased with molten snow, The billows fierce that tossed to and fro, The whirlpools sucked down to their bosoms low; But on he went to search for wonders mo, Through the thick trees there high and broad which grow, And in that forest huge and desert wide, The more he sought, more wonders still he spied.

XXIII Whereso he stepped, it seemed the joyful ground Renewed the verdure of her flowery weed, A fountain here, a wellspring there he found; Here bud the roses, there the lilies spread The aged wood o'er and about him round Flourished with blossoms new, new leaves, new seed, And on the boughs and branches of those treen, The bark was softened, and renewed the green.

XXIV The manna on each leaf did pearled lie, The honey stilled from the tender rind; Again he heard that wondrous harmony, Of songs and sweet complaints of lovers kind, The human voices sung a triple high, To which respond the birds, the streams, the wind, But yet unseen those nymphs, those singers were, Unseen the lutes, harps, viols which they bear.

XXV He looked, he listened, yet his thoughts denied To think that true which he both heard and see, A myrtle in an ample plain he spied, And thither by a beaten path went he: The myrtle spread her mighty branches wide, Higher than pine or palm or cypress tree: And far above all other plants was seen That forest's lady and that desert's queen.

XXVI Upon the trees his eyes Rinaldo bent,. And there a marvel great and strange began; An aged oak beside him cleft and rent, And from his fertile hollow womb forth ran, Clad in rare weeds and strange habiliment, A nymph, for age able to go to man, An hundred plants beside, even in his sight, Childed an hundred nymphs, so great, so dight.

XXVII Such as on stages play, such as we see The Dryads painted whom wild Satyrs love, Whose arms half-naked, locks untrussed be, With buskins laced on their legs above, And silken robes tucked short above their knee; Such seemed the sylvan daughters of this grove, Save that instead of shafts and boughs of tree, She bore a lute, a harp, or cittern she.

XXVIII And wantonly they cast them in a ring, And sung and danced to move his weaker sense, Rinaldo round about environing, As centres are with their circumference; The tree they compassed eke, and gan to sing, That woods and streams admired their excellence; "Welcome, dear lord, welcome to this sweet grove, Welcome our lady's hope, welcome her love.

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.

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.

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?

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."

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.

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."

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.

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.

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.

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!"

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.

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."

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;

XLII But forced to retire from him at last, The Pagan fleet the seas moist empire won, His men with all their stuff and store in haste Home to the camp with their commander run, In skill, in wit, in cunning him surpassed Yet never engineer beneath the sun, Of carpenters an hundred large he brought, That what their lord devised made and wrought.

XLIII This man began with wondrous art to make, Not rams, not mighty brakes, not slings alone, Wherewith the firm and solid walls to shake, To cast a dart, or throw a shaft or stone; But framed of pines and firs, did undertake To build a fortress huge, to which was none Yet ever like, whereof he clothed the sides Against the balls of fire with raw bull's hides.

XLIV In mortices and sockets framed just, The beams, the studs and puncheons joined he fast; To beat the city's wall, beneath forth brust A ram with horned front, about her waist A bridge the engine from her side out thrust, Which on the wall when need she cast; And from her top a turret small up stood, Strong, surely armed, and builded of like wood.

XLV Set on an hundred wheels the rolling mass, On the smooth lands went nimbly up and down, Though full of arms and armed men it was, Yet with small pains it ran, as it had flown: Wondered the camp so quick to see it pass, They praised the workmen and their skill unknown, And on that day two towers they builded more, Like that which sweet Clorinda burned before.

XLVI Yet wholly were not from the Saracines Their works concealed and their labors hid, Upon that wall which next the camp confines They placed spies, who marked all they did: They saw the ashes wild and squared pines, How to the tents, trailed from the grove, they slid: And engines huge they saw, yet could not tell How they were built, their forms they saw not well.

XLVII Their engines eke they reared, and with great art Repaired each bulwark, turret, port and tower, And fortified the plain and easy part, To bide the storm of every warlike stoure, Till as they thought no sleight or force of Mart To undermine or scale the same had power; And false Ismeno gan new balls prepare Of wicked fire, wild, wondrous, strange and rare.

XLVIII He mingled brimstone with bitumen fell Fetched from that lake where Sodom erst did sink, And from that flood which nine times compassed hell Some of the liquor hot he brought, I think, Wherewith the quenchless fire he tempered well, To make it smoke and flame and deadly stink: And for his wood cut down, the aged sire Would thus revengement take with flame and fire.

XLIX While thus the camp, and thus the town were bent, These to assault, these to defend the wall, A speedy dove through the clear welkin went, Straight o'er the tents, seen by the soldiers all; With nimble fans the yielding air she rent, Nor seemed it that she would alight or fall, Till she arrived near that besieged town, Then from the clouds at last she stooped down:

L But lo, from whence I nolt, a falcon came, Armed with crooked bill and talons long, And twixt the camp and city crossed her game, That durst nor bide her foe's encounter strong; But right upon the royal tent down came, And there, the lords and princes great among, When the sharp hawk nigh touched her tender head In Godfrey's lap she fell, with fear half dead:

LI The duke received her, saved her, and spied, As he beheld the bird, a wondrous thing, About her neck a letter close was tied, By a small thread, and thrust under her wing, He loosed forth the writ and spread it wide, And read the intent thereof, "To Judah's king," Thus said the schedule, "honors high increase, The Egyptian chieftain wisheth health and peace:

LII "Fear not, renowned prince, resist, endure Till the third day, or till the fourth at most, I come, and your deliverance will procure, And kill your coward foes and all their host." This secret in that brief was closed up sure, Writ in strange language, to the winged post Given to transport; for in their warlike need The east such message used, oft with good speed.

LIII The duke let go the captive dove at large, And she that had his counsel close betrayed, Traitress to her great Lord, touched not the marge Of Salem's town, but fled far thence afraid. The duke before all those which had or charge Or office high, the letter read, and said: "See how the goodness of the Lord foreshows The secret purpose of our crafty foes.

LIV "No longer then let us protract the time, But scale the bulwark of this fortress high, Through sweat and labor gainst those rocks sublime Let us ascend, which to the southward lie; Hard will it be that way in arms to climb, But yet the place and passage both know I, And that high wall by site strong on that part, Is least defenced by arms, by work and art.

LV "Thou, Raymond, on this side with all thy might Assault the wall, and by those crags ascend, My squadrons with mine engines huge shall fight And gainst the northern gate my puissance bend, That so our foes, beguiled with the sight, Our greatest force and power shall there attend, While my great tower from thence shall nimbly slide, And batter down some worse defended side;

LVI "Camillo, thou not far from me shalt rear Another tower, close to the walls ybrought." This spoken, Raymond old, that sate him near, And while he talked great things tossed in his thought, Said, "To Godfredo's counsel, given us here, Naught can be added, from it taken naught: Yet this I further wish, that some were sent To spy their camp, their secret and intent,

LVII "That may their number and their squadrons brave Describe, and through their tents disguised mask." Quoth Tancred, "Lo, a subtle squire I have, A person fit to undertake this task, A man quick, ready, bold, sly to deceive, To answer, wise, and well advised to ask; Well languaged, and that with time and place, Can change his look, his voice, his gait, his grace."

LVIII Sent for, he came, and when his lord him told What Godfrey's pleasure was and what his own, He smiled and said forthwith he gladly would. "I go," quoth he, "careless what chance be thrown, And where encamped be these Pagans bold, Will walk in every tent a spy unknown, Their camp even at noon-day I enter shall, And number all their horse and footmen all;

LIX "How great, how strong, how armed this army is, And what their guide intends, I will declare, To me the secrets of that heart of his And hidden thoughts shall open lie and bare." Thus Vafrine spoke, nor longer stayed on this, But for a mantle changed the coat he ware, Naked was his neck, and bout his forehead bold, Of linen white full twenty yards he rolled.

LX His weapons were a Syrian bow and quiver, His gestures barbarous, like the Turkish train, Wondered all they that heard his tongue deliver Of every land the language true and plain: In Tyre a born Phoenician, by the river Of Nile a knight bred in the Egyptian main, Both people would have thought him; forth he rides On a swift steed, o'er hills and dales that glides.

LXI But ere the third day came the French forth sent Their pioneers to even the rougher ways, And ready made each warlike instrument, Nor aught their labor interrupts or stays; The nights in busy toll they likewise spent And with long evenings lengthened forth short days, Till naught was left the hosts that hinder might To use their utmost power and strength in fight.

LXII That day, which of the assault the day forerun, The godly duke in prayer spent well-nigh, And all the rest, because they had misdone, The sacrament receive and mercy cry; Then oft the duke his engines great begun To show where least he would their strength apply; His foes rejoiced, deluded in that sort, To see them bent against their surest port:

LXIII But after, aided by the friendly night, His greatest engine to that side he brought Where plainest seemed the wall, where with their might The flankers least could hurt them as they fought; And to the southern mountain's greatest height To raise his turret old Raymondo sought; And thou Camillo on that part hadst thine, Where from the north the walls did westward twine.

LXIV But when amid the eastern heaven appeared The rising morning bright as shining glass, The troubled Pagans saw, and seeing feared, How the great tower stood not where late it was, And here and there tofore unseen was reared Of timber strong a huge and fearful mass, And numberless with beams, with ropes and strings, They view the iron rams, the barks and slings.

LXV The Syrian people now were no whit slow, Their best defences to that side to bear, Where Godfrey did his greatest engine show, From thence where late in vain they placed were: But he who at his back right well did know The host of Egypt to be proaching near, To him called Guelpho, and the Roberts twain, And said, "On horseback look you still remain,

LXVI "And have regard, while all our people strive To scale this wall, where weak it seems and thin, Lest unawares some sudden host arrive, And at our backs unlooked-for war begin." This said, three fierce assaults at once they give, The hardy soldiers all would die or win, And on three parts resistance makes the king, And rage gainst strength, despair gainst hope doth bring.

LXVII Himself upon his limbs with feeble eild That shook, unwieldy with their proper weight, His armor laid and long unused shield, And marched gainst Raymond to the mountain's height; Great Solyman gainst Godfrey took the field; Fornenst Camillo stood Argantes straight Where Tancred strong he found, so fortune will That this good prince his wonted foe shall kill.

LXVIII The archers shot their arrows sharp and keen, Dipped in the bitter juice of poison strong, The shady face of heaven was scantly seen, Hid with the clouds of shafts and quarries long; Yet weapons sharp with greater fury been Cast from the towers the Pagan troops among, For thence flew stones and clifts of marble rocks, Trees shod with iron, timber, logs and blocks.

LXIX A thunderbolt seemed every stone, it brake His limbs and armors on whom so it light, That life and soul it did not only take But all his shape and face disfigured quite; The lances stayed not in the wounds they make, But through the gored body took their flight, From side to side, through flesh, through skin and rind They flew, and flying, left sad death behind.

LXX But yet not all this force and fury drove The Pagan people to forsake the wall, But to revenge these deadly blows they strove, With darts that fly, with stones and trees that fall; For need so cowards oft courageous prove, For liberty they fight, for life and all, And oft with arrows, shafts, and stones that fly, Give bitter answer to a sharp reply.

LXXI This while the fierce assailants never cease, But sternly still maintain a threefold charge, And gainst the clouds of shafts draw nigh at ease, Under a pentise made of many a targe, The armed towers close to the bulwarks press, And strive to grapple with the battled marge, And launch their bridges out, meanwhile below With iron fronts the rams the walls down throw.

LXXII Yet still Rinaldo unresolved went, And far unworthy him this service thought, If mongst the common sort his pains he spent; Renown so got the prince esteemed naught: His angry looks on every side he bent, And where most harm, most danger was, he fought, And where the wall high, strong and surest was, That part would he assault, and that way pass.

LXXIII And turning to the worthies him behind, All hardy knights, whom Dudon late did guide, "Oh shame," quoth he, "this wall no war doth find, When battered is elsewhere each part, each side; All pain is safety to a valiant mind, Each way is eath to him that dares abide, Come let us scale this wall, though strong and high, And with your shields keep off the darts that fly."

LXXIV With him united all while thus he spake, Their targets hard above their heads they threw, Which joined in one an iron pentise make That from the dreadful storm preserved the crew. Defended thus their speedy course they take, And to the wall without resistance drew, For that strong penticle protected well The knights, from all that flew and all that fell.

LXXV Against the fort Rinaldo gan uprear A ladder huge, an hundred steps of height, And in his arm the same did easily bear And move as winds do reeds or rushes light, Sometimes a tree, a rock, a dart or spear, Fell from above, yet forward clomb the knight, And upward fearless pierced, careless still, Though Mount Olympus fell, or Ossa hill:

LXXVI A mount of ruins, and of shafts a wood Upon his shoulders and his shield he bore, One hand the ladder held whereon he stood, The other bare his targe his face before; His hardy troop, by his example good Provoked, with him the place assaulted sore, And ladders long against the wall they clap, Unlike in courage yet, unlike in hap:

LXXVII One died, another fell; he forward went, And these he comforts, and he threateneth those, Now with his hand outstretched the battlement Well-nigh he reached, when all his armed foes Ran thither, and their force and fury bent To throw him headlong down, yet up he goes, A wondrous thing, one knight whole armed bands Alone, and hanging in the air, withstands:

LXXVIII Withstands, and forceth his great strength so far, That like a palm whereon huge weight doth rest, His forces so resisted stronger are, His virtues higher rise the more oppressed, Till all that would his entrance bold debar, He backward drove, upleaped and possessed The wall, and safe and easy with his blade, To all that after came, the passage made.

LXXIX There killing such as durst and did withstand, To noble Eustace that was like to fall He reached forth his friendly conquering hand, And next himself helped him to mount the wall. This while Godfredo and his people land Their lives to greater harms and dangers thrall, For there not man with man, nor knight with knight Contend, but engines there with engines fight.

LXXX For in that place the Paynims reared a post, Which late had served some gallant ship for mast, And over it another beam they crossed, Pointed with iron sharp, to it made fast With ropes which as men would the dormant tossed, Now out, now in, now back, now forward cast. In his swift pulleys oft the men withdrew The tree, and oft the riding-balk forth threw:

LXXXI The mighty beam redoubted oft his blows, And with such force the engine smote and hit, That her broad side the tower wide open throws, Her joints were broke, her rafters cleft and split; But yet gainst every hap whence mischief grows, Prepared the piece, gainst such extremes made fit, Launch forth two scythes, sharp, cutting, long and broad And cut the ropes whereon the engine rode:

LXXXII As an old rock, which age or stormy wind Tears from some craggy hill or mountain steep, Doth break, doth bruise, and into dust doth grind Woods, houses, hamlets, herds, and folds of sheep, So fell the beam, and down with it all kind Of arms, of weapons, and of men did sweep, Wherewith the towers once or twice did shake, Trembled the walls, the hills and mountains quake.

LXXXIII Victorious Godfrey boldly forward came, And had great hope even then the place to win; But lo, a fire, with stench, with smoke and flame Withstood his passage, stopped his entrance in: Such burning Aetna yet could never frame, When from her entrails hot her fires begin, Nor yet in summer on the Indian plain, Such vapors warm from scorching air down rain.

LXXXIV There balls of wildfire, there fly burning spears, This flame was black, that blue, this red as blood; Stench well-nigh choked them, noise deafs their ears, Smoke blinds their eyes, fire kindleth on the wood; Nor those raw hides which for defence it wears Could save the tower, in such distress it stood; For now they wrinkle, now it sweats and fries, Now burns, unless some help come down from skies.

LXXXV The hardy duke before his folk abides, Nor changed he color, countenance or place, But comforts those that from the scaldered hides With water strove the approaching flames to chase: In these extremes the prince and those he guides Half roasted stood before fierce Vulcan's face, When lo, a sudden and unlooked-for blast The flames against the kindlers backward cast:

LXXXVI The winds drove back the fire, where heaped lie The Pagans' weapons, where their engines were, Which kindling quickly in that substance dry, Burnt all their store and all their warlike gear: O glorious captain! whom the Lord from high Defends, whom God preserves, and holds so dear; For thee heaven fights, to thee the winds, from far, Called with thy trumpet's blast, obedient are!

LXXXVII But wicked Ismen to his harm that saw How the fierce blast drove back the fire and flame, By art would nature change, and thence withdraw Those noisome winds, else calm and still the same; 'Twixt two false wizards without fear or awe Upon the walls in open sight he came, Black, grisly, loathsome, grim and ugly faced, Like Pluto old, betwixt two furies placed;

LXXXVIII And now the wretch those dreadful words begun, Which trouble make deep hell and all her flock, Now trembled is the air, the golden sun His fearful beams in clouds did close and lock, When from the tower, which Ismen could not shun, Out fled a mighty stone, late half a rock, Which light so just upon the wizards three, That driven to dust their bones and bodies be.

LXXXIX To less than naught their members old were torn, And shivered were their heads to pieces small, As small as are the bruised grains of corn When from the mill dissolved to meal they fall; Their damned souls, to deepest hell down borne Far from the joy and light celestial, The furies plunged in the infernal lake: O mankind, at their ends ensample take!

XC This while the engine which the tempest cold Had saved from burning with his friendly blast, Approached had so near the battered hold That on the walls her bridge at ease she cast: But Solyman ran thither fierce and bold, To cut the plank whereon the Christians passed. And had performed his will, save that upreared High in the skies a turret new appeared;

XCI Far in the air up clomb the fortress tall, Higher than house, than steeple, church or tower; The Pagans trembled to behold the wall And city subject to her shot and power; Yet kept the Turk his stand, though on him fall Of stones and darts a sharp and deadly shower, And still to cut the bridge he hopes and strives, And those that fear with cheerful speech revives.

XCII The angel Michael, to all the rest Unseen, appeared before Godfredo's eyes, In pure and heavenly armor richly dressed, Brighter than Titan's rays in clearest skies; "Godfrey," quoth he, "this is the moment blest To free this town that long in bondage lies, See, see what legions in thine aid I bring, For Heaven assists thee, and Heaven's glorious King:

XCIII "Lift up thine eyes, and in the air behold The sacred armies, how they mustered be, That cloud of flesh in which for times of old All mankind wrapped is, I take from thee, And from thy senses their thick mist unfold, That face to face thou mayest these spirits see, And for a little space right well sustain Their glorious light and view those angels plain.

XCIV "Behold the souls of every lord and knight That late bore arms and died for Christ's dear sake, How on thy side against this town they fight, And of thy joy and conquest will partake: There where the dust and smoke blind all men's sight, Where stones and ruins such an heap do make, There Hugo fights, in thickest cloud imbarred, And undermines that bulwark's groundwork hard.

XCV "See Dudon yonder, who with sword and fire Assails and helps to scale the northern port, That with bold courage doth thy folk inspire And rears their ladders gainst the assaulted fort: He that high on the mount in grave attire Is clad, and crowned stands in kingly sort, Is Bishop Ademare, a blessed spirit, Blest for his faith, crowned for his death and merit.

XCVI "But higher lift thy happy eyes, and view Where all the sacred hosts of Heaven appear." He looked, and saw where winged armies flew, Innumerable, pure, divine and clear; A battle round of squadrons three they show And all by threes those squadrons ranged were, Which spreading wide in rings still wider go, Moved with a stone calm water circleth so.

XCVII With that he winked, and vanished was and gone; That wondrous vision when he looked again, His worthies fighting viewed he one by one, And on each side saw signs of conquest plain, For with Rinaldo gainst his yielding lone, His knights were entered and the Pagans slain, This seen, the duke no longer stay could brook, But from the bearer bold his ensign took:

XCVIII And on the bridge he stepped, but there was stayed By Solyman, who entrance all denied, That narrow tree to virtue great was made, The field as in few blows right soon was tried, "Here will I give my life for Sion's aid, Here will I end my days," the Soldan cried, "Behind me cut or break this bridge, that I May kill a thousand Christians first, then die."

XCIX But thither fierce Rinaldo threatening went, And at his sight fled all the Soldan's train, "What shall I do? If here my life be spent, I spend and spill," quoth he, "my blood in vain!" With that his steps from Godfrey back he bent, And to him let the passage free remain, Who threatening followed as the Soldan fled, And on the walls the purple Cross dispread:

C About his head he tossed, he turned, he cast, That glorious ensign, with a thousand twines, Thereon the wind breathes with his sweetest blast, Thereon with golden rays glad Phoebus shines, Earth laughs for joy, the streams forbear their haste, Floods clap their hands, on mountains dance the pines, And Sion's towers and sacred temples smile For their deliverance from that bondage vile.

CI And now the armies reared the happy cry Of victory, glad, joyful, loud, and shrill. The hills resound, the echo showereth high, And Tancred bold, that fights and combats still With proud Argantes, brought his tower so nigh, That on the wall, against the boaster's will, In his despite, his bridge he also laid, And won the place, and there the cross displayed.

CII But on the southern hill, where Raymond fought Against the townsmen and their aged king, His hardy Gascoigns gained small or naught; Their engine to the walls they could not bring, For thither all his strength the prince had brought, For life and safety sternly combating, And for the wall was feeblest on that coast, There were his soldiers best, and engines most.

CIII Besides, the tower upon that quarter found Unsure, uneasy, and uneven the way, Nor art could help, but that the rougher ground The rolling mass did often stop and stay; But now of victory the joyful sound The king and Raymond heard amid their fray; And by the shout they and their soldiers know, The town was entered on the plain below.

CIV Which heard, Raymondo thus bespake this crew, "The town is won, my friends, and doth it yet Resist? are we kept out still by these few? Shall we no share in this high conquest get?" But from that part the king at last withdrew, He strove in vain their entrance there to let, And to a stronger place his folk he brought, Where to sustain the assault awhile he thought.

CV The conquerors at once now entered all, The walls were won, the gates were opened wide, Now bruised, broken down, destroyed fall The ports and towers that battery durst abide; Rageth the sword, death murdereth great and small, And proud 'twixt woe and horror sad doth ride. Here runs the blood, in ponds there stands the gore, And drowns the knights in whom it lived before.



NINETEENTH BOOK

THE ARGUMENT. Tancred in single combat kills his foe, Argantes strong: the king and Soldan fly To David's tower, and save their persons so; Erminia well instructs Vafrine the spy, With him she rides away, and as they go Finds where her lord for dead on earth doth lie; First she laments, then cures him: Godfrey hears Ormondo's treason, and what marks he bears.

I Now death or fear or care to save their lives From their forsaken walls the Pagans chase: Yet neither force nor fear nor wisdom drives The constant knight Argantes from his place; Alone against ten thousand foes he strives, Yet dreadless, doubtless, careless seemed his face, Nor death, nor danger, but disgrace he fears, And still unconquered, though o'erset, appears.

II But mongst the rest upon his helmet gay With his broad sword Tancredi came and smote: The Pagan knew the prince by his array, By his strong blows, his armor and his coat; For once they fought, and when night stayed that fray, New time they chose to end their combat hot, But Tancred failed, wherefore the Pagan knight Cried, "Tancred, com'st thou thus, thus late to fight?

III "Too late thou com'st, and not alone to war, But yet the fight I neither shun nor fear, Although from knighthood true thou errest far, Since like an engineer thou dost appear, That tower, that troop, thy shield and safety are, Strange kind of arms in single fight to bear; Yet shalt thou not escape, O conqueror strong Of ladies fair, sharp death, to avenge that wrong."

IV Lord Tancred smiled, with disdain and scorn, And answerd thus, "To end our strife," quoth he, "Behold at last I come, and my return, Though late, perchance will be too soon for thee; For thou shalt wish, of hope and help forlorn, Some sea or mountain placed twixt thee and me, And well shalt know before we end this fray No fear of cowardice hath caused my stay.

V "But come aside, thou by whose prowess dies The monsters, knights and giants in all lands, The killer of weak women thee defies." This said, he turned to his fighting bands, And bids them all retire. "Forbear," he cries, "To strike this knight, on him let none lay hands; For mine he is, more than a common foe, By challenge new and promise old also."

VI "Descend," the fierce Circassian gan reply, "Alone, or all this troop for succor take To deserts waste, or place frequented high, For vantage none I will the fight forsake:" Thus given and taken was the bold defy, And through the press, agreed so, they brake, Their hatred made them one, and as they went, Each knight his foe did for despite defend:

VII Great was his thirst of praise, great the desire That Tancred had the Pagan's blood to spill, Nor could that quench his wrath or calm his ire If other hand his foe should foil or kill. He saved him with his shield, and cried "Retire!" To all he met, "and do this knight none ill:" And thus defending gainst his friends his foe, Through thousand angry weapons safe they go.

VII They left the city, and they left behind Godfredo's camp, and far beyond it passed, And came where into creeks and bosoms blind A winding hill his corners turned and cast, A valley small and shady dale they find Amid the mountains steep so laid and placed As if some theatre or closed place Had been for men to fight or beasts to chase.

IX There stayed the champions both with rueful eyes, Argantes gan the fortress won to view; Tancred his foe withouten shield espies, And said, "Whereon doth thy sad heart devise? Think'st thou this hour must end thy life untrue? If this thou fear, and dost foresee thy fate, Thy fear is vain, thy foresight comes too late."

X "I think," quoth he, "on this distressed town, The aged Queen of Judah's ancient land, Now lost, now sacked, spoiled and trodden down, Whose fall in vain I strived to withstand, A small revenge for Sion's fort o'erthrown, That head can be, cut off by my strong hand." This said, together with great heed they flew, For each his foe for bold and hardy knew.

XI Tancred of body active was and light, Quick, nimble, ready both of hand and foot; But higher by the head, the Pagan knight Of limbs far greater was, of heart as stout: Tancred laid low and traversed in his fight, Now to his ward retired, now struck out, Oft with his sword his foe's fierce blows he broke, And rather chose to ward-than bear his stroke.

XII But bold and bolt upright Argantes fought, Unlike in gesture, like in skill and art, His sword outstretched before him far he brought, Nor would his weapon touch, but pierce his heart, To catch his point Prince Tancred strove and sought, But at his breast or helm's unclosed part He threatened death, and would with stretched-out brand His entrance close, and fierce assaults withstand.

XIII With a tall ship so doth a galley fight, When the still winds stir not the unstable main; Where this in nimbleness as that in might Excels; that stands, this goes and comes again, And shifts from prow to poop with turnings light; Meanwhile the other doth unmoved remain, And on her nimble foe approaching nigh, Her weighty engines tumbleth down from high.

XIV The Christian sought to enter on his foe, Voiding his point, which at his breast was bent; Argantes at his face a thrust did throw, Which while the Prince awards and doth prevent, His ready hand the Pagan turned so, That all defence his quickness far o'erwent, And pierced his side, which done, he said and smiled, "The craftsman is in his own craft beguiled."

XV Tancredi bit his lip for scorn and shame, Nor longer stood on points of fence and skill, But to revenge so fierce and fast he came As if his hand could not o'ertake his will, And at his visor aiming just, gan frame To his proud boast an answer sharp, but still Argantes broke the thrust; and at half-sword, Swift, hardy, bold, in stepped the Christian lord.

XVI With his left foot fast forward gan he stride, And with his left the Pagan's right arm bent, With his right hand meanwhile the man's right side He cut, he wounded, mangled, tore and rent. "To his victorious teacher," Tancred cried, "His conquered scholar hath this answer sent;" Argantes chafed, struggled, turned and twined, Yet could not so his captive arm unbind:

XVII His sword at last he let hang by the chain, And griped his hardy foe in both his hands, In his strong arms Tancred caught him again, And thus each other held and wrapped in bands. With greater might Alcides did not strain The giant Antheus on the Lybian sands, On holdfast knots their brawny arms they cast, And whom he hateth most, each held embraced:

XVIII Such was their wrestling, such their shocks and throws That down at once they tumbled both to ground, Argantes, — were it hap or skill, who knows, His better hand loose and in freedom found; But the good Prince, his hand more fit for blows, With his huge weight the Pagan underbound; But he, his disadvantage great that knew, Let go his hold, and on his feet up flew:

XIX Far slower rose the unwieldy Saracine, And caught a rap ere he was reared upright. But as against the blustering winds a pine Now bends his top, now lifts his head on height, His courage so, when it 'gan most decline, The man reinforced, and advanced his might, And with fierce change of blows renewed the fray, Where rage for skill, horror for art, bore sway.

XX The purple drops from Tancred's sides down railed, But from the Pagan ran whole streams of blood, Wherewith his force grew weak, his courage quailed As fires die which fuel want or food. Tancred that saw his feeble arm now failed To strike his blows, that scant he stirred or stood, Assuaged his anger, and his wrath allayed, And stepping back, thus gently spoke and said:

XXI "Yield, hardy knight, and chance of war or me Confess to have subdued thee in this fight, I will no trophy, triumph, spoil of thee, Nor glory wish, nor seek a victor's right More terrible than erst;" herewith grew he And all awaked his fury, rage and might, And said, "Dar'st thou of vantage speak or think, Or move Argantes once to yield or shrink?

XXII "Use, use thy vantage, thee and fortune both I scorn, and punish will thy foolish pride:" As a hot brand flames most ere it forth go'th, And dying blazeth bright on every side; So he, when blood was lost, with anger wroth, Revived his courage when his puissance died, And would his latest hour which now drew nigh, Illustrate with his end, and nobly die.

XXIII He joined his left hand to her sister strong, And with them both let fall his weighty blade. Tancred to ward his blow his sword up slung, But that it smote aside, nor there it stayed, But from his shoulder to his side along It glanced, and many wounds at once it made: Yet Tancred feared naught, for in his heart Found coward dread no place, fear had no part.

XXIV His fearful blow he doubled, but he spent His force in waste, and all his strength in vain; For Tancred from the blow against him bent, Leaped aside, the stroke fell on the plain. With thine own weight o'erthrown to earth thou went, Argantes stout, nor could'st thyself sustain, Thyself thou threwest down, O happy man, Upon whose fall none boast or triumph can!

XXV His gaping wounds the fall set open wide, The streams of blood about him made a lake, Helped with his left hand, on one knee he tried To rear himself, and new defence to make: The courteous prince stepped back, and "Yield thee!" cried, No hurt he proffered him, no blow he strake. Meanwhile by stealth the Pagan false him gave A sudden wound, threatening with speeches brave:

XXVI Herewith Tancredi furious grew, and said, "Villain, dost thou my mercy so despise?" Therewith he thrust and thrust again his blade, And through his ventil pierced his dazzled eyes, Argantes died, yet no complaint he made, But as he furious lived he careless dies; Bold, proud, disdainful, fierce and void of fear His motions last, last looks, last speeches were.

XXVII Tancred put up his sword, and praises glad Gave to his God that saved him in this fight; But yet this bloody conquest feebled had So much the conqueror's force, strength and might, That through the way he feared which homeward led He had not strength enough to walk upright; Yet as he could his steps from thence he bent, And foot by foot a heavy pace forth-went;

XXVIII His legs could bear him but a little stound, And more he hastes, more tired, less was his speed, On his right hand, at last, laid on the ground He leaned, his hand weak like a shaking reed, Dazzled his eyes, the world on wheels ran round, Day wrapped her brightness up in sable weed; At length he swooned, and the victor knight Naught differed from his conquered foe in fight.

XXIX But while these lords their private fight pursue, Made fierce and cruel through their secret hate, The victor's ire destroyed the faithless crew From street to street, and chased from gate to gate. But of the sacked town the image true Who can describe, or paint the woful state, Or with fit words this spectacle express Who can? or tell the city's great distress?

XXX Blood, murder, death, each street, house, church defiled, There heaps of slain appear, there mountains high; There underneath the unburied hills up-piled Of bodies dead, the living buried lie; There the sad mother with her tender child Doth tear her tresses loose, complain and fly, And there the spoiler by her amber hair Draws to his lust the virgin chaste and fair.

XXXI But through the way that to the west-hill yood Whereon the old and stately temple stands, All soiled with gore and wet with lukewarm blood Rinaldo ran, and chased the Pagan bands; Above their heads he heaved his curtlax good, Life in his grace, and death lay in his hands, Nor helm nor target strong his blows off bears, Best armed there seemed he no arms that wears;

XXXII For gainst his armed foes he only bends His force, and scorns the naked folk to wound; Them whom no courage arms, no arms defends, He chased with his looks and dreadful sound: Oh, who can tell how far his force extends? How these he scorns, threats those, lays them on ground? How with unequal harm, with equal fear Fled all, all that well armed or naked were:

XXXIII Fast fled the people weak, and with the same A squadron strong is to the temple gone Which, burned and builded oft, still keeps the name Of the first founder, wise King Solomon; That prince this stately house did whilom frame Of cedar trees, of gold and marble stone; Now not so rich, yet strong and sure it was, With turrets high, thick walls, and doors of brass.

XXXIV The knight arrived where in warklike sort The men that ample church had fortified. And closed found each wicket, gate and port, And on the top defences ready spied, He left his frowning looks, and twice that fort From his high top down to the groundwork eyed, And entrance sought, and twice with his swift foot The mighty place he measured about.

XXXV Like as a wolf about the closed fold Rangeth by night his hoped prey to get, Enraged with hunger and with malice old Which kind 'twixt him and harmless sheep hath set: So searched he high and low about that hold, Where he might enter without stop or let, In the great court he stayed, his foes above Attend the assault, and would their fortune prove.

XXXVI There lay by chance a posted tree thereby, Kept for some needful use, whate'er it were, The armed galleys not so thick nor high Their tall and lofty masts at Genes uprear; This beam the knight against the gates made fly From his strong hands all weights which lift and bear, Like a light lance that tree he shook and tossed, And bruised the gate, the threshold and the post.

XXXVII No marble stone, no metal strong outbore The wondrous might of that redoubled blow, The brazen hinges from the wall it tore, It broke the locks, and laid the doors down low, No iron ram, no engine could do more, Nor cannons great that thunderbolts forth throw, His people like a flowing stream inthrong, And after them entered the victor strong;

XXXVIII The woful slaughter black and loathsome made That house, sometime the sacred house of God, O heavenly justice, if thou be delayed, On wretched sinners sharper falls thy rod! In them this place profaned which invade Thou kindled ire, and mercy all forbode, Until with their hearts' blood the Pagans vile This temple washed which they did late defile.

XXXIX But Solyman this while himself fast sped Up to the fort which David's tower is named, And with him all the soldiers left he led, And gainst each entrance new defences framed: The tyrant Aladine eke thither fled, To whom the Soldan thus, far off, exclaimed, Thyself, within this fortress safe uplock:

XL "For well this fortress shall thee and thy crown Defend, awhile here may we safe remain." "Alas!" quoth he, "alas, for this fair town, Which cruel war beats down even with the plain, My life is done, mine empire trodden down, I reigned, I lived, but now nor live nor reign; For now, alas! behold the fatal hour That ends our life, and ends our kingly power."

XLI "Where is your virtue, where your wisdom grave, And courage stout?" the angry Soldan said, "Let chance our kingdoms take which erst she gave, Yet in our hearts our kingly worth is laid; But come, and in this fort your person save, Refresh your weary limbs and strength decayed:" Thus counselled he, and did to safety bring Within that fort the weak and aged king.

XLII His iron mace in both his hands he hent, And on his thigh his trusty sword he tied, And to the entrance fierce and fearless went, And kept the strait, and all the French defied: The blows were mortal which he gave or lent, For whom he hit he slew, else by his side Laid low on earth, that all fled from the place Where they beheld that great and dreadful mace.

XLIII But old Raymondo with his hardy crew By chance came thither, to his great mishap; To that defended path the old man flew, And scorned his blows and him that kept the gap, He struck his foe, his blow no blood forth drew, But on the front with that he caught a rap, Which in a swoon, low in the dust him laid, Wide open, trembling, with his arms displayed.

XLIV The Pagans gathered heart at last, though fear Their courage weak had put to flight but late, So that the conquerors repulsed were, And beaten back, else slain before the Gate: The Soldan, mongst the dead beside him near That saw Lord Raymond lie in such estate, Cried to his men, "Within these bars," quoth he, "Come draw this knight, and let him captive be."

XLV Forward they rushed to execute his word, But hard and dangerous that emprise they found, For none of Raymond's men forsook their lord, But to their guide's defence they flocked round, Thence fury fights, hence pity draws the sword, Nor strive they for vile cause or on light ground, The life and freedom of that champion brave, Those spoil, these would preserve, those kill, these save.

XLVI But yet at last if they had longer fought The hardy Soldan would have won the field; For gainst his thundering mace availed naught Or helm of temper fine or sevenfold shield: But from each side great succor now was brought To his weak foes, now fit to faint and yield, And both at once to aid and help the same The sovereign Duke and young Rinaldo came.

XLVII As when a shepherd, raging round about That sees a storm with wind, hail, thunder, rain, When gloomy clouds have day's bright eye put out, His tender flocks drives from the open plain To some thick grove or mountain's shady foot, Where Heaven's fierce wrath they may unhurt sustain, And with his hook, his whistle and his cries Drives forth his fleecy charge, and with them flies:

XLVIII So fled the Soldan, when he gan descry This tempest come from angry war forthcast, The armor clashed and lightened gainst the sky, And from each side swords, weapons, fire outbrast: He sent his folk up to the fortress high, To shun the furious storm, himself stayed last, Yet to the danger he gave place at length, For wit, his courage; wisdom ruled his strength.

XLIX But scant the knight was safe the gate within, Scant closed were the doors, when having broke The bars, Rinaldo doth assault begin Against the port, and on the wicket stroke His matchless might, his great desire to win, His oath and promise, doth his wrath provoke, For he had sworn, nor should his word be vain, To kill the man that had Prince Sweno slain.

L And now his armed hand that castle great Would have assaulted, and had shortly won, Nor safe pardie the Soldan there a seat Had found his fatal foes' sharp wrath to shun, Had not Godfredo sounded the retreat; For now dark shades to shroud the earth begun, Within the town the duke would lodge that night, And with the morn renew the assault and fight.

LI With cheerful look thus to his folk he said, "High God hath holpen well his children dear, This work is done, the rest this night delayed Doth little labor bring, less doubt, no fear, This tower, our foe's weak hope and latest aid, We conquer will, when sun shall next appear: Meanwhile with love and tender ruth go see And comfort those which hurt and wounded be;

LII "Go cure their wounds which boldly ventured Their lives, and spilt their bloods to get this hold, That fitteth more this host for Christ forth led, Than thirst of vengeance, or desire of gold; Too much, ah, too much blood this day is shed! In some we too much haste to spoil behold, But I command no more you spoil and kill, And let a trumpet publish forth my will."

LIII This said, he went where Raymond panting lay, Waked from the swoon wherein he late had been. Nor Solyman with countenance less gay Bespake his troops, and kept his grief unseen; "My friends, you are unconquered this day, In spite of fortune still our hope is green, For underneath great shows of harm and fear, Our dangers small, our losses little were:

LIV "Burnt are your houses, and your people slain, Yet safe your town is, though your walls be gone, For in yourselves and in your sovereign Consists your city, not in lime and stone; Your king is safe, and safe is all his train In this strong fort defended from their fone, And on this empty conquest let them boast, Till with this town again, their lives be lost;

LV "And on their heads the loss at last will light, For with good fortune proud and insolent, In spoil and murder spend they day and night, In riot, drinking, lust and ravishment, And may amid their preys with little fight At ease be overthrown, killed, slain and spent, If in this carelessness the Egyptian host Upon them fall, which now draws near this coast.

LVI "Meanwhile the highest buildings of this town We may shake down with stones about their ears, And with our darts and spears from engines thrown, Command that hill Christ's sepulchre that bears:" Thus comforts he their hopes and hearts cast down, Awakes their valors, and exiles their fears. But while the things hapt thus, Vafrino goes Unknown, amid ten thousand armed foes.

LVII The sun nigh set had brought to end the day, When Vafrine went the Pagan host to spy, He passed unknown a close and secret way; A traveller, false, cunning, crafty, sly, Past Ascalon he saw the morning gray Step o'er the threshold of the eastern sky, And ere bright Titan half his course had run, That camp, that mighty host to show begun.

LVIII Tents infinite, and standards broad he spies, This red, that white, that blue, this purple was, And hears strange tongues, and stranger harmonies Of trumpets, clarions, and well-sounding brass: The elephant there brays, the camel cries. The horses neigh as to and fro they pass: Which seen and heard, he said within his thought, Hither all Asia is, all Afric, brought.

LIX He viewed the camp awhile, her site and seat, What ditch, what trench it had, what rampire strong, Nor close, nor secret ways to work his feat He longer sought, nor hid him from the throng; But entered through the gates, broad, royal, great, And oft he asked, and answered oft among, In questions wise, in answers short and sly; Bold was his look, eyes quick, front lifted high:

LX On every side he pried here and there, And marked each way, each passage and each tent: The knights he notes, their steeds, and arms they bear, Their names, their armor, and their government; And greater secrets hopes to learn, and hear, Their hidden purpose, and their close intent: So long he walked and wandered, till he spied The way to approach the great pavilions' side:

LXI There as he looked he saw the canvas rent, Through which the voice found eath and open way From the close lodgings of the regal tent And inmost closet where the captain lay; So that if Emireno spake, forth went The sound to them that listen what they say, There Vafrine watched, and those that saw him thought To mend the breach that there he stood and wrought.

LXII The captain great within bare-headed stood, His body armed and clad in purple weed, Two pages bore his shield and helmet good, He leaning on a bending lance gave heed To a big man whose looks were fierce and proud, With whom he parleyed of some haughty deed, Godfredo's name as Vafrine watched he heard, Which made him give more heed, take more regard:

LXIII Thus spake the chieftain to that surly sir, "Art thou so sure that Godfrey shall be slain?" "I am," quoth he, "and swear ne'er to retire, Except he first be killed, to court again. I will prevent those that with me conspire: Nor other guerdon ask I for my pain But that I may hang up his harness brave At Gair, and under them these words engrave:

LXIV "'These arms Ormondo took in noble fight From Godfrey proud, that spoiled all Asia's lands, And with them took his life, and here on high, In memory thereof, this trophy stands.' " The duke replied, "Ne'er shall that deed, bold knight, Pass unrewarded at our sovereign's hands, What thou demandest shall he gladly grant, Nor gold nor guerdon shalt thou wish or want.

LXV "Those counterfeited armors then prepare, Because the day of fight approacheth fast." "They ready are," quoth he; then both forbare From further talk, these speeches were the last. Vafrine, these great things heard, with grief and care Remained astound, and in his thoughts oft cast What treason false this was, how feigned were Those arms, but yet that doubt he could not clear.

LXVI From thence he parted, and broad waking lay All that long night, nor slumbered once nor slept: But when the camp by peep of springing day Their banner spread, and knights on horseback leapt, With them he marched forth in meet array, And where they pitched lodged, and with them kept, And then from tent to tent he stalked about, To hear and see, and learn this secret out;

LXVII Searching about, on a rich throne he fand Armida set with dames and knights around, Sullen she sat, and sighed, it seemed she scanned Some weighty matters in her thoughts profounds, Her rosy cheek leaned on her lily hand, Her eyes, love's twinkling stars, she bent to ground, Weep she, or no, he knows not, yet appears Her humid eyes even great with child with tears.

LXVIII He saw before her set Adrastus grim, That seemed scant to live, move, or respire, So was he fixed on his mistress trim, So gazed he, and fed his fond desire; But Tisiphern beheld now her now him, And quaked sometime for love, sometime for ire, And in his cheeks the color went and came, For there wrath's fire now burnt, now shone love's flame.

LXIX Then from the garland fair of virgins bright, Mongst whom he lay enclosed, rose Altamore, His hot desire he hid and kept from sight, His looks were ruled by Cupid's crafty lore, His left eye viewed her hand, her face, his right Both watched her beauties hid and secret store, And entrance found where her thin veil bewrayed The milken-way between her breasts that laid.

LXX Her eyes Armida lift from earth at last, And cleared again her front and visage sad, Midst clouds of woe her looks which overcast She lightened forth a smile, sweet, pleasant, glad; "My lord," quoth she, "your oath and promise passed, Hath freed my heart of all the griefs it had, That now in hope of sweet revenge it lives, Such joy, such ease, desired vengeance gives."

LXXI "Cheer up thy looks," answered the Indian king, "And for sweet beauty's sake, appease thy woe, Cast at your feet ere you expect the thing, I will present the head of thy strong foe; Else shall this hand his person captive bring And cast in prison deep;" he boasted so. His rival heard him well, yet answered naught, But bit his lips, and grieved in secret thought.