LVII
  Lord Guelpho answered thus: "What heart can bear
  Such slanders false, devised by hate and spite?
  Or with stayed patience, reproaches hear,
  And not revenge by battle or by fight?
  The Norway Prince hath bought his folly dear,
  But who with words could stay the angry knight?
  A fool is he that comes to preach or prate
  When men with swords their right and wrong debate.

  LVIII
  "And where you wish he should himself submit
  To hear the censure of your upright laws;
  Alas, that cannot be, for he is flit
  Out if this camp, withouten stay or pause,
  There take my gage, behold I offer it
  To him that first accused him in this cause,
  Or any else that dare, and will maintain
  That for his pride the prince was justly slain.

  LIX
  "I say with reason Lord Gernando's pride
  He hath abated, if he have offended
  Gainst your commands, who are his lord and guide,
  Oh pardon him, that fault shall be amended."
  "If he be gone," quoth Godfrey, "let him ride
  And brawl elsewhere, here let all strife be ended:
  And you, Lord Guelpho, for your nephew's sake,
  Breed us no new, nor quarrels old awake."

  LX
  This while, the fair and false Armida strived
  To get her promised aid in sure possession,
  The day to end, with endless plaint she derived;
  Wit, beauty, craft for her made intercession:
  But when the earth was once of light deprived,
  And western seas felt Titan's hot impression,
  'Twixt two old knights, and matrons twain she went,
  Where pitched was her fair and curious tent.

  LXI
  But this false queen of craft and sly invention, —
  Whose looks, love's arrows were; whose eyes his quivers;
  Whose beauty matchless, free from reprehension,
  A wonder left by Heaven to after-livers, —
  Among the Christian lord had bred contention
  Who first should quench his flames in Cupid's rivers,
  While all her weapons and her darts rehearsed,
  Had not Godfredo's constant bosom pierced.

  LXII
  To change his modest thought the dame procureth,
  And proffereth heaps of love's enticing treasure:
  But as the falcon newly gorged endureth
  Her keeper lure her oft, but comes at leisure;
  So he, whom fulness of delight assureth
  What long repentance comes of love's short pleasure,
  Her crafts, her arts, herself and all despiseth,
  So base affections fall, when virtue riseth.

  LXIII
  And not one foot his steadfast foot was moved
  Out of that heavenly path, wherein he paced,
  Yet thousand wiles and thousand ways she proved,
  To have that castle fair of goodness raised:
  She used those looks and smiles that most behoved
  To melt the frost which his hard heart embraced,
  And gainst his breast a thousand shot she ventured,
  Yet was the fort so strong it was not entered.

  LXIV
  The dame who thought that one blink of her eye
  Could make the chastest heart feel love's sweet pain,
  Oh, how her pride abated was hereby!
  When all her sleights were void, her crafts were vain,
  Some other where she would her forces try,
  Where at more ease she might more vantage gain,
  As tired soldiers whom some fort keeps out,
  Thence raise their siege, and spoil the towns about.

  LXV
  But yet all ways the wily witch could find
  Could not Tancredi's heart to loveward move,
  His sails were filled with another wind,
  He list no blast of new affection prove;
  For, as one poison doth exclude by kind
  Another's force, so love excludeth love:
  These two alone nor more nor less the dame
  Could win, the rest all burnt in her sweet flame.

  LXVI
  The princess, though her purpose would not frame,
  As late she hoped, and as still she would,
  Yet, for the lords and knights of greatest name
  Became her prey, as erst you heard it told,
  She thought, ere truth-revealing time or frame
  Bewrayed her act, to lead them to some hold,
  Where chains and band she meant to make them prove,
  Composed by Vulcan not by gentle love.

  LXVII
  The time prefixed at length was come and past,
  Which Godfrey had set down to lend her aid,
  When at his feet herself to earth she cast,
  "The hour is come, my Lord," she humbly said,
  "And if the tyrant haply hear at last,
  His banished niece hath your assistance prayed,
  He will in arms to save his kingdom rise,
  So shall we harder make this enterprise.

  LXVIII
  "Before report can bring the tyrant news,
  Or his espials certify their king,
  Oh let thy goodness these few champions choose,
  That to her kingdom should thy handmaid bring;
  Who, except Heaven to aid the right refuse,
  Recover shall her crown, from whence shall spring
  Thy profit; for betide thee peace or war,
  Thine all her cities, all her subjects are."

  LXIX
  The captain sage the damsel fair assured,
  His word was passed and should not be recanted,
  And she with sweet and humble grace endured
  To let him point those ten, which late he granted:
  But to be one, each one fought and procured,
  No suit, no entreaty, intercession wanted;
  There envy each at others' love exceeded,
  And all importunate made, more than needed.

  LXX
  She that well saw the secret of their hearts,
  And knew how best to warm them in their blood,
  Against them threw the cursed poisoned darts
  Of jealousy, and grief at others' good,
  For love she wist was weak without those arts,
  And slow; for jealousy is Cupid's food;
  For the swift steed runs not so fast alone,
  As when some strain, some strive him to outgone.

  LXXI
  Her words in such alluring sort she framed,
  Her looks enticing, and her wooing smiles,
  That every one his fellows' favors blamed,
  That of their mistress he received erewhiles:
  This foolish crew of lovers unashamed,
  Mad with the poison of her secret wiles,
  Ran forward still, in this disordered sort,
  Nor could Godfredo's bridle rein them short.

  LXXII
  He that would satisfy each good desire,
  Withouten partial love, of every knight,
  Although he swelled with shame, with grief and ire
  To see these fellows and these fashions light;
  Yet since by no advice they would retire,
  Another way he sought to set them right:
  "Write all your names," quoth he, "and see whom chance
  Of lot, to this exploit will first advance."

  LXXIII
  Their names were writ, and in an helmet shaken,
  While each did fortune's grace and aid implore;
  At last they drew them, and the foremost taken
  The Earl of Pembroke was, Artemidore,
  Doubtless the county thought his bread well baken;
  Next Gerrard followed, then with tresses hoar
  Old Wenceslaus, that felt Cupid's rage
  Now in his doating and his dying age.

  LXXIV
  Oh how contentment in their foreheads shined!
  Their looks with joy; thoughts swelled with secret pleasure,
  These three it seemed good success designed
  To make the lords of love and beauty's treasure:
  Their doubtful fellows at their hap repined,
  And with small patience wait Fortune's leisure,
  Upon his lips that read the scrolls attending,
  As if their lives were on his words depending.

  LXXV
  Guasco the fourth, Ridolpho him succeeds,
  Then Ulderick whom love list so advance,
  Lord William of Ronciglion next he reads,
  Then Eberard, and Henry born in France,
  Rambaldo last, whom wicked lust so leads
  That he forsook his Saviour with mischance;
  This wretch the tenth was who was thus deluded,
  The rest to their huge grief were all excluded.

  LXXVI
  O'ercome with envy, wrath and jealousy,
  The rest blind Fortune curse, and all her laws,
  And mad with love, yet out on love they cry,
  That in his kingdom let her judge their cause:
  And for man's mind is such, that oft we try
  Things most forbidden, without stay or pause,
  In spite of fortune purposed many a knight
  To follow fair Armida when 'twas night.

  LXXVII
  To follow her, by night or else by day,
  And in her quarrel venture life and limb.
  With sighs and tears she gan them softly pray
  To keep that promise, when the skies were dim,
  To this and that knight did she plain and say,
  What grief she felt to part withouten him:
  Meanwhile the ten had donned their armor best,
  And taken leave of Godfrey and the rest.

  LXXVIII
  The duke advised them every one apart,
  How light, how trustless was the Pagan's faith,
  And told what policy, what wit, what art,
  Avoids deceit, which heedless men betray'th;
  His speeches pierce their ear, but not their heart,
  Love calls it folly, whatso wisdom saith:
  Thus warned he leaves them to their wanton guide,
  Who parts that night; such haste had she to ride.

  LXXIX
  The conqueress departs, and with her led
  These prisoners, whom love would captive keep,
  The hearts of those she left behind her bled,
  With point of sorrow's arrow pierced deep.
  But when the night her drowsy mantle spread,
  And filled the earth with silence, shade and sleep,
  In secret sort then each forsook his tent,
  And as blind Cupid led them blind they went.

  LXXX
  Eustatio first, who scantly could forbear,
  Till friendly night might hide his haste and shame,
  He rode in post, and let his breast him bear
  As his blind fancy would his journey frame,
  All night he wandered and he wist not where;
  But with the morning he espied the dame,
  That with her guard up from a village rode
  Where she and they that night had made abode.

  LXXXI
  Thither he galloped fast, and drawing near
  Rambaldo knew the knight, and loudly cried,
  "Whence comes young Eustace, and what seeks he here?"
  "I come," quoth he, "to serve the Queen Armide,
  If she accept me, would we all were there
  Where my good-will and faith might best be tried."
  "Who," quoth the other, "choseth thee to prove
  This high exploit of hers?" He answered, "Love."

  LXXXII
  "Love hath Eustatio chosen, Fortune thee,
  In thy conceit which is the best election?"
  "Nay, then, these shifts are vain," replied he,
  "These titles false serve thee for no protection,
  Thou canst not here for this admitted be
  Our fellow-servant, in this sweet subjection."
  "And who," quoth Eustace, angry, "dares deny
  My fellowship?" Rambaldo answered, "I."

  LXXXIII
  And with that word his cutting sword he drew,
  That glittered bright, and sparkled flaming fire;
  Upon his foe the other champion flew,
  With equal courage, and with equal ire.
  The gentle princess, who the danger knew,
  Between them stepped, and prayed them both retire.
  "Rambald," quoth she, "why should you grudge or plain,
  If I a champion, you an helper gain?

  LXXXIV
  "If me you love, why wish you me deprived
  In so great need of such a puissant knight?
  But welcome Eustace, in good time arrived,
  Defender of my state, my life, my right.
  I wish my hapless self no longer lived,
  When I esteem such good assistance light."
  Thus talked they on, and travelled on their way
  Their fellowship increasing every day.

  LXXXV
  From every side they come, yet wist there none
  Of others coming or of others' mind,
  She welcomes all, and telleth every one,
  What joy her thoughts in his arrival find.
  But when Duke Godfrey wist his knights were gone,
  Within his breast his wiser soul divined
  Some hard mishap upon his friends should light,
  For which he sighed all day, and wept all night.

  LXXXVI
  A messenger, while thus he mused, drew near,
  All soiled with dust and sweat, quite out of breath,
  It seemed the man did heavy tidings bear,
  Upon his looks sate news of loss and death:
  "My lord," quoth he, "so many ships appear
  At sea, that Neptune bears the load uneath,
  From Egypt come they all, this lets thee weet
  William Lord Admiral of the Genoa fleet,

  LXXXVII
  "Besides a convoy coming from the shore
  With victual for this noble camp of thine
  Surprised was, and lost is all that store,
  Mules, horses, camels laden, corn and wine;
  Thy servants fought till they could fight no more,
  For all were slain or captives made in fine:
  The Arabian outlaws them assailed by night,
  When least they feared, and least they looked for fight.

  LXXXVIII
  "Their frantic boldness doth presume so far,
  That many Christians have they falsely slain,
  And like a raging flood they spared are,
  And overflow each country, field and plain;
  Send therefore some strong troops of men of war,
  To force them hence, and drive them home again,
  And keep the ways between these tents of thine
  And those broad seas, the seas of Palestine."

  LXXXIX
  From mouth to mouth the heavy rumor spread
  Of these misfortunes, which dispersed wide
  Among the soldiers, great amazement bred;
  Famine they doubt, and new come foes beside:
  The duke, that saw their wonted courage fled,
  And in the place thereof weak fear espied,
  With merry looks these cheerful words he spake,
  To make them heart again and courage take.

  XC
  "You champions bold, with me that 'scaped have
  So many dangers, and such hard assays,
  Whom still your God did keep, defend and save
  In all your battles, combats, fights and frays,
  You that subdued the Turks and Persians brave,
  That thirst and hunger held in scorn always,
  And vanquished hills, and seas, with heat and cold,
  Shall vain reports appal your courage bold?

  XCI
  "That Lord who helped you out at every need,
  When aught befell this glorious camp amiss,
  Shall fortune all your actions well to speed,
  On whom his mercy large extended is;
  Tofore his tomb, when conquering hands you spreed,
  With what delight will you remember this?
  Be strong therefore, and keep your valors high
  To honor, conquest, fame and victory."

  XCII
  Their hopes half dead and courage well-nigh lost,
  Revived with these brave speeches of their guide;
  But in his breast a thousand cares he tost,
  Although his sorrows he could wisely hide;
  He studied how to feed that mighty host,
  In so great scarceness, and what force provide
  He should against the Egyptian warriors sly,
  And how subdue those thieves of Araby.

SIXTH BOOK

  THE ARGUMENT.
  Argantes calls the Christians out to just:
  Otho not chosen doth his strength assay,
  But from his saddle tumbleth in the dust,
  And captive to the town is sent away:
  Tancred begins new fight, and when both trust
  To win the praise and palm, night ends the fray:
  Erminia hopes to cure her wounded knight,
  And from the city armed rides by night.

  I
  But better hopes had them recomforted
  That lay besieged in the sacred town;
  With new supply late were they victualled,
  When night obscured the earth with shadows brown;
  Their armies and engines on the walls they spread,
  Their slings to cast, and stones to tumble down;
  And all that side which to the northward lies,
  High rampiers and strong bulwarks fortifies.

  II
  Their wary king commands now here now there,
  To build this tower, to make that bulwark strong,
  Whether the sun, the moon, or stars appear,
  To give them time to work, no time comes wrong:
  In every street new weapons forged were,
  By cunning smiths, sweating with labor long;
  While thus the careful prince provision made,
  To him Argantes came, and boasting said:

  III
  "How long shall we, like prisoners in chains,
  Captived lie inclosed within this wall?
  I see your workmen taking endless pains
  To make new weapons for no use at all;
  Meanwhile these eastern thieves destroy the plains,
  Your towns are burnt, your forts and castles fall,
  Yet none of us dares at these gates out-peep,
  Or sound one trumpet shrill to break their sleep.

  IV
  "Their time in feasting and good cheer they spend,
  Nor dare we once their banquets sweet molest,
  The days and night likewise they bring to end,
  In peace, assurance, quiet, ease and rest;
  But we must yield whom hunger soon will shend,
  And make for peace, to save our lives, request,
  Else, if th' Egyptian army stay too long,
  Like cowards die within this fortress strong.

  V
  "Yet never shall my courage great consent
  So vile a death should end my noble days,
  Nor on mine arms within these walls ypent
  To-morrow's sun shall spread his timely rays:
  Let sacred Heavens dispose as they are bent
  Of this frail like, yet not withouten praise
  Of valor, prowess, might, Argantes shall
  Inglorious die, or unrevenged fall.

  VI
  "But if the roots of wonted chivalry
  Be not quite dead your princely breast within,
  Devise not how with frame and praise to die,
  But how to live, to conquer and to win;
  Let us together at these gates outfly,
  And skirmish bold and bloody fight begin;
  For when last need to desperation driveth,
  Who dareth most he wisest counsel giveth.

  VII
  "But if in field your wisdom dare not venture
  To hazard all your troops to doubtful fight,
  Then bind yourself to Godfrey by indenture,
  To end your quarrels by one single knight:
  And for the Christian this accord shall enter
  With better will, say such you know your right
  That he the weapons, place and time shall choose,
  And let him for his best, that vantage use.

  VIII
  "For though your foe had hands, like Hector strong,
  With heart unfeared, and courage stern and stout,
  Yet no misfortune can your justice wrong,
  And what that wanteth, shall this arm help out,
  In spite of fate shall this right hand ere long,
  Return victorious: if hereof you doubt,
  Take it for pledge, wherein if trust you have,
  It shall yourself defend and kingdom save."

  IX
  "Bold youth," the tyrant thus began to speak,
  "Although I withered seem with age and years,
  Yet are not these old arms so faint and weak,
  Nor this hoar head so full of doubts and fears
  But whenas death this vital thread shall break,
  He shall my courage hear, my death who hears:
  And Aladine that lived a king and knight,
  To his fair morn will have an evening bright.

  X
  "But that which yet I would have further blazed,
  To thee in secret shall be told and spoken,
  Great Soliman of Nice, so far ypraised,
  To be revenged for his sceptre broken,
  The men of arms of Araby hath raised,
  From Inde to Africk, and, when we give token,
  Attends the favor of the friendly night
  To victual us, and with our foes to fight.

  XI
  "Now though Godfredo hold by warlike feat
  Some castles poor and forts in vile oppression,
  Care not for that; for still our princely seat,
  This stately town, we keep in our possession,
  But thou appease and calm that courage great,
  Which in thy bosom make so hot impression;
  And stay fit time, which will betide are long,
  To increase thy glory, and revenge our wrong."

  XII
  The Saracen at this was inly spited,
  Who Soliman's great worth had long envied,
  To hear him praised thus he naught delighted,
  Nor that the king upon his aid relied:
  "Within your power, sir king," he says, "united
  Are peace and war, nor shall that be denied;
  But for the Turk and his Arabian band,
  He lost his own, shall he defend your land?

  XIII
  "Perchance he comes some heavenly messenger,
  Sent down to set the Pagan people free,
  Then let Argantes for himself take care,
  This sword, I trust, shall well safe-conduct me:
  But while you rest and all your forces spare,
  That I go forth to war at least agree;
  Though not your champion, yet a private knight,
  I will some Christian prove in single fight."

  XIV
  The king replied, "Though thy force and might
  Should be reserved to better time and use;
  Yet that thou challenge some renowned knight,
  Among the Christians bold I not refuse."
  The warrior breathing out desire of fight,
  An herald called, and said, "Go tell those news
  To Godfrey's self, and to the western lords,
  And in their hearings boldly say these words:

  XV
  "Say that a knight, who holds in great disdain
  To be thus closed up in secret new,
  Will with his sword in open field maintain,
  If any dare deny his words for true,
  That no devotion, as they falsely feign,
  Hath moved the French these countries to subdue;
  But vile ambition, and pride's hateful vice,
  Desire of rule, and spoil, and covetice.

  XVI
  "And that to fight I am not only prest
  With one or two that dare defend the cause,
  But come the fourth or fifth, come all the rest,
  Come all that will, and all that weapon draws,
  Let him that yields obey the victor's hest,
  As wills the lore of mighty Mars his laws:"
  This was the challenge that fierce Pagan sent,
  The herald donned his coat-of-arms, and went.

  XVII
  And when the man before the presence came
  Of princely Godfrey, and his captains bold:
  "My Lord," quoth he, "may I withouten blame
  Before your Grace, my message brave unfold?"
  "Thou mayest," he answered, "we approve the same;
  Withouten fear, be thine ambassage told."
  "Then," quoth the herald, "shall your highness see,
  If this ambassage sharp or pleasing be."

  XVIII
  The challenge gan he then at large expose,
  With mighty threats, high terms and glorious words;
  On every side an angry murmur rose,
  To wrath so moved were the knights and lords.
  Then Godfrey spake, and said, "The man hath chose
  An hard exploit, but when he feels our swords,
  I trust we shall so far entreat the knight,
  As to excuse the fourth or fifth of fight.

  XIX
  "But let him come and prove, the field I grant,
  Nor wrong nor treason let him doubt or fear,
  Some here shall pay him for his glorious vaunt,
  Without or guile, or vantage, that I swear.
  The herald turned when he had ended scant,
  And hasted back the way he came whileare,
  Nor stayed he aught, nor once forslowed his pace,
  Till he bespake Argantes face to face.

  XX
  "Arm you, my lord," he said, "your bold defies
  By your brave foes accepted boldly been,
  This combat neither high nor low denies,
  Ten thousand wish to meet you on the green;
  A thousand frowned with angry flaming eyes,
  And shaked for rage their swords and weapons keen;
  The field is safely granted by their guide,"
  This said, the champion for his armor cried.

  XXI
  While he was armed, his heart for ire nigh brake,
  So yearned his courage hot his foes to find:
  The King to fair Clorinda present spake;
  "If he go forth, remain not you behind,
  But of our soldiers best a thousand take,
  To guard his person and your own assigned;
  Yet let him meet alone the Christian knight,
  And stand yourself aloof, while they two fight."

  XXII
  Thus spake the King, and soon without abode
  The troop went forth in shining armor clad,
  Before the rest the Pagan champion rode,
  His wonted arms and ensigns all he had:
  A goodly plan displayed wide and broad,
  Between the city and the camp was spread,
  A place like that wherein proud Rome beheld
  The forward young men manage spear and shield.

  XXIII
  There all alone Argantes took his stand,
  Defying Christ and all his servants true,
  In stature, stomach, and in strength of hand,
  In pride, presumption, and in dreadful show,
  Encelade like, on the Phlegrean strand,
  Of that huge giant Jesse's infant slew;
  But his fierce semblant they esteemed light,
  For most not knew, or else not feared his might.

  XXIV
  As yet not one had Godfrey singled out
  To undertake this hardy enterprise,
  But on Prince Tancred saw he all the rout
  Had fixed their wishes, and had cast their eyes,
  On him he spied them gazing round about,
  As though their honor on his prowess lies,
  And now they whispered louder what they meant,
  Which Godfrey heard and saw, and was content.

  XXV
  The rest gave place; for every one descried
  To whom their chieftain's will did most incline,
  "Tancred," quoth he, "I pray thee calm the pride,
  Abate the rage of yonder Saracine:"
  No longer would the chosen champion bide,
  His face with joy, his eyes with gladness shine,
  His helm he took, and ready steed bestrode,
  And guarded with his trusty friends forth rode.

  XXVI
  But scantly had he spurred his courser swift
  Near to the plain, where proud Argantes stayed,
  When unawares his eyes he chanced to lift,
  And on the hill beheld the warlike maid,
  As white as snow upon the Alpine clift
  The virgin shone in silver arms arrayed,
  Her vental up so high, that he descried
  Her goodly visage, and her beauty's pride.

  XXVII
  He saw not where the Pagan stood, and stared,
  As if with looks he would his foeman kill,
  But full of other thoughts he forward fared,
  And sent his looks before him up the hill,
  His gesture such his troubled soul declared,
  At last as marble rock he standeth still,
  Stone cold without; within, burnt with love's flame,
  And quite forgot himself, and why he came.

  XXVIII
  The challenger, that yet saw none appear
  That made or sign or show came to just,
  "How long," cried he, "shall I attend you here?
  Dares none come forth? dares none his fortune trust?"
  The other stood amazed, love stopped his ear,
  He thinks on Cupid, think of Mars who lust;
  But forth stert Otho bold, and took the field,
  A gentle knight whom God from danger shield.

  XXIX
  This youth was one of those, who late desired
  With that vain-glorious boaster to have fought,
  But Tancred chosen, he and all retired;
  Now when his slackness he awhile admired,
  And saw elsewhere employed was his thought,
  Nor that to just, though chosen, once he proffered,
  He boldly took that fit occasion offered.

  XXX
  No tiger, panther, spotted leopard,
  Runs half so swift, the forests wild among,
  As this young champion hasted thitherward,
  Where he attending saw the Pagan strong:
  Tancredi started with the noise he heard,
  As waked from sleep, where he had dreamed long,
  "Oh stay," he cried, "to me belongs this war!"
  But cried too late, Otho was gone too far.

  XXXI
  Then full of fury, anger and despite,
  He stayed his horse, and waxed red for shame,
  The fight was his, but now disgraced quite
  Himself he thought, another played his game;
  Meanwhile the Saracen did hugely smite
  On Otho's helm, who to requite the same,
  His foe quite through his sevenfold targe did bear,
  And in his breastplate stuck and broke his spear.

  XXXII
  The encounter such, upon the tender grass,
  Down from his steed the Christian backward fell;
  Yet his proud foe so strong and sturdy was,
  That he nor shook, nor staggered in his sell,
  But to the knight that lay full low, alas,
  In high disdain his will thus gan he tell,
  "Yield thee my slave, and this thine honor be,
  Thou may'st report thou hast encountered me."

  XXXIII
  "Not so," quoth he, "pardy it's not the guise
  Of Christian knights, though fall'n, so soon to yield;
  I can my fall excuse in better wise,
  And will revenge this shame, or die in field."
  The great Circassian bent his frowning eyes,
  Like that grim visage in Minerva's shield,
  "Then learn," quoth he, "what force Argantes useth
  Against that fool that proffered grace refuseth."

  XXXIV
  With that he spurred his horse with speed and haste,
  Forgetting what good knights to virtue owe,
  Otho his fury shunned, and, as he passed,
  At his right side he reached a noble blow,
  Wide was the wound, the blood outstreamed fast,
  And from his side fell to his stirrup low:
  But what avails to hurt, if wounds augment
  Our foe's fierce courage, strength and hardiment?

  XXXV
  Argantes nimbly turned his ready steed,
  And ere his foe was wist or well aware,
  Against his side he drove his courser's head,
  What force could he gainst so great might prepare?
  Weak were his feeble joints, his courage dead,
  His heart amazed, his paleness showed his care,
  His tender side gainst the hard earth he cast,
  Shamed, with the first fall; bruised, with the last.

  XXXVI
  The victor spurred again his light-foot steed,
  And made his passage over Otho's heart,
  And cried, "These fools thus under foot I tread,
  This dare contend with me in equal mart."
  Tancred for anger shook his noble head,
  So was he grieved with that unknightly part;
  The fault was his, he was so slow before,
  With double valor would he salve that sore.

  XXXVII
  Forward he galloped fast, and loudly cried:
  "Villain," quoth he, "thy conquest is thy shame,
  What praise? what honor shall this fact betide?
  What gain? what guerdon shall befall the same?
  Among the Arabian thieves thy face go hide,
  Far from resort of men of worth and fame,
  Or else in woods and mountains wild, by night,
  On savage beasts employ thy savage might."

  XXXVIII
  The Pagan patience never knew, nor used,
  Trembling for ire, his sandy locks he tore,
  Our from his lips flew such a sound confused,
  As lions make in deserts thick, which roar;
  Or as when clouds together crushed and bruised,
  Pour down a tempest by the Caspian shore;
  So was his speech imperfect, stopped, and broken,
  He roared and thundered when he should have spoken.

  XXXIX
  But when with threats they both had whetted keen
  Their eager rage, their fury, spite and ire,
  They turned their steeds and left large space between
  To make their forces greater, 'proaching nigher,
  With terms that warlike and that worthy been:
  O sacred Muse, my haughty thoughts inspire,
  And make a trumpet of my slender quill
  To thunder out this furious combat shrill.

  XL
  These sons of Mayors bore, instead of spears,
  Two knotty masts, which none but they could lift,
  Each foaming steed so fast his master bears,
  That never beast, bird, shaft flew half so swift;
  Such was their fury, as when Boreas tears
  The shattered crags from Taurus' northern clift,
  Upon their helms their lances long they broke,
  And up to heaven flew splinters, spark and smoke.

  XLI
  The shock made all the towers and turrets quake,
  And woods and mountains all nigh hand resound;
  Yet could not all that force and fury shake
  The valiant champions, nor their persons wound;
  Together hurtled both their steeds, and brake
  Each other's neck, the riders lay on ground:
  But they, great masters of war's dreadful art,
  Plucked forth their swords and soon from earth up start.

  XLII
  Close at his surest ward each warrior lieth,
  He wisely guides his hand, his foot, his eye,
  This blow he proveth, that defence he trieth,
  He traverseth, retireth, presseth nigh,
  Now strikes he out, and now he falsifieth,
  This blow he wardeth, that he lets slip by,
  And for advantage oft he lets some part
  Discovered seem; thus art deludeth art.

  XLIII
  The Pagan ill defenced with sword or targe,
  Tancredi's thigh, as he supposed, espied
  And reaching forth gainst it his weapon large,
  Quite naked to his foe leaves his left-side;
  Tancred avoideth quick his furious charge,
  And gave him eke a wound deep, sore and wide;
  That done, himself safe to his ward retired,
  His courage praised by all, his skill admired.

  XLIV
  The proud Circassian saw his streaming blood,
  Down from his wound, as from a fountain, running,
  He sighed for rage, and trembled as he stood,
  He blamed his fortune, folly, want of cunning;
  He lift his sword aloft, for ire nigh wood,
  And forward rushed: Tancred his fury shunning,
  With a sharp thrust once more the Pagan hit,
  To his broad shoulder where his arm is knit.

  XLV
  Like as a bear through pierced with a dart
  Within the secret woods, no further flieth,
  But bites the senseless weapon mad with smart,
  Seeking revenge till unrevenged she dieth;
  So mad Argantes fared, when his proud heart
  Wound upon wound, and shame on shame espieth,
  Desire of vengeance so o'ercame his senses,
  That he forgot all dangers, all defences.

  XLVI
  Uniting force extreme, with endless wrath,
  Supporting both with youth and strength untired,
  His thundering blows so fast about he layeth,
  That skies and earth the flying sparkles fired;
  His foe to strike one blow no leisure hath,
  Scantly he breathed, though he oft desired,
  His warlike skill and cunning all was waste,
  Such was Argantes' force, and such his haste.

  XLVII
  Long time Tancredi had in vain attended
  When this huge storm should overblow and pass,
  Some blows his mighty target well defended,
  Some fell beside, and wounded deep the grass;
  But when he saw the tempest never ended,
  Nor that the Paynim's force aught weaker was,
  He high advanced his cutting sword at length,
  And rage to rage opposed, and strength to strength.

  XLVIII
  Wrath bore the sway, both art and reason fail,
  Fury new force, and courage new supplies,
  Their armors forged were of metal frail,
  On every side thereof, huge cantels flies,
  The land was strewed all with plate and mail.
  That, on the earth; on that, their warm blood lies.
  And at each rush and every blow they smote
  Thunder the noise, the sparks, seemed lightning hot.

  XLIX
  The Christian people and the Pagans gazed,
  On this fierce combat wishing oft the end,
  Twixt hope and fear they stood long time amazed,
  To see the knights assail, and eke defend,
  Yet neither sign they made, nor noise they raised,
  But for the issue of the fight attend,
  And stood as still, as life and sense they wanted,
  Save that their hearts within their bosoms panted.

  L
  Now were they tired both, and well-nigh spent,
  Their blows show greater will than power to wound;
  But Night her gentle daughter Darkness, sent,
  With friendly shade to overspread the ground,
  Two heralds to the fighting champions went,
  To part the fray, as laws of arms them bound
  Aridens born in France, and wise Pindore,
  The man that brought the challenge proud before.

  LI
  These men their sceptres interpose, between
  The doubtful hazards of uncertain fight;
  For such their privilege hath ever been,
  The law of nations doth defend their right;
  Pindore began, "Stay, stay, you warriors keen,
  Equal your honor, equal is your might;
  Forbear this combat, so we deem it best,
  Give night her due, and grant your persons rest.

  LII
  "Man goeth forth to labor with the sun,
  But with the night, all creatures draw to sleep,
  Nor yet of hidden praise in darkness won
  The valiant heart of noble knight takes keep:"
  Argantes answered him, "The fight begun
  Now to forbear, doth wound my heart right deep:
  Yet will I stay, so that this Christian swear,
  Before you both, again to meet me here."

  LIII
  "I swear," quoth Tancred, "but swear thou likewise
  To make return thy prisoner eke with thee;
  Else for achievement of this enterprise,
  None other time but this expect of me;"
  Thus swore they both; the heralds both devise,
  What time for this exploit should fittest be:
  And for their wounds of rest and cure had need,
  To meet again the sixth day was decreed.

  LIV
  This fight was deep imprinted in their hearts
  That saw this bloody fray to ending brought,
  An horror great possessed their weaker parts,
  Which made them shrink who on their combat thought:
  Much speech was of the praise and high desarts
  Of these brave champions that so nobly fought;
  But which for knightly worth was most ypraised,
  Of that was doubt and disputation raised.

  LV
  All long to see them end this doubtful fray,
  And as they favor, so they wish success,
  These hope true virtue shall obtain the day,
  Those trust on fury, strength and hardiness;
  But on Erminia most this burden lay,
  Whose looks her trouble and her fear express;
  For on this dangerous combat's doubtful end
  Her joy, her comfort, hope and life depend.

  LVI
  Her the sole daughter of that hapless king,
  That of proud Antioch late wore the crown,
  The Christian soldiers to Tancredi bring,
  When they had sacked and spoiled that glorious town;
  But he, in whom all good and virtue spring,
  The virgin's honor saved, and her renown;
  And when her city and her state was lost,
  Then was her person loved and honored most.

  LVII
  He honored her, served her, and leave her gave,
  And willed her go whither and when she list,
  Her gold and jewels had he care to save,
  And them restored all, she nothing missed,
  She, that beheld this youth and person brave,
  When, by this deed, his noble mind she wist,
  Laid ope her heart for Cupid's shaft to hit,
  Who never knots of love more surer knit.

  LVIII
  Her body free, captivated was her heart,
  And love the keys did of that prison bear,
  Prepared to go, it was a death to part
  From that kind Lord, and from that prison dear,
  But thou, O honor, which esteemed art
  The chiefest virtue noble ladies wear,
  Enforcest her against her will, to wend
  To Aladine, her mother's dearest friend.

  LIX
  At Sion was this princess entertained,
  By that old tyrant and her mother dear,
  Whose loss too soon the woful damsel plained,
  Her grief was such, she lived not half the year,
  Yet banishment, nor loss of friends constrained
  The hapless maid her passions to forbear,
  For though exceeding were her woe and grief,
  Of all her sorrows yet her love was chief.

  LX
  The silly maid in secret longing pined,
  Her hope a mote drawn up by Phoebus' rays,
  Her love a mountain seemed, whereon bright shined
  Fresh memory of Tancred's worth and praise,
  Within her closet if her self she shrined,
  A hotter fire her tender heart assays:
  Tancred at last, to raise her hope nigh dead,
  Before those walls did his broad ensign spread.

  LXI
  The rest to view the Christian army feared,
  Such seemed their number, such their power and might,
  But she alone her troubled forehead cleared,
  And on them spread her beauty shining bright;
  In every squadron when it first appeared,
  Her curious eye sought out her chosen knight;
  And every gallant that the rest excels,
  The same seems him, so love and fancy tells.

  LXII
  Within the kingly palace builded high,
  A turret standeth near the city's wall,
  From which Erminia might at ease descry
  The western host, the plains and mountains all,
  And there she stood all the long day to spy,
  From Phoebus' rising to his evening fall,
  And with her thoughts disputed of his praise,
  And every thought a scalding sigh did raise.

  LXIII
  From hence the furious combat she surveyed,
  And felt her heart tremble with fear and pain,
  Her secret thoughts thus to her fancy said,
  Behold thy dear in danger to be slain;
  So with suspect, with fear and grief dismayed,
  Attended she her darling's loss or gain,
  And ever when the Pagan lift his blade,
  The stroke a wound in her weak bosom made.

  LXIV
  But when she saw the end, and wist withal
  Their strong contention should eftsoons begin,
  Amazement strange her courage did appal,
  Her vital blood was icy cold within;
  Sometimes she sighed, sometimes tears let fall,
  To witness what distress her heart was in;
  Hopeless, dismayed, pale, sad, astonished,
  Her love, her fear; her fear, her torment bred.

  LXV
  Her idle brain unto her soul presented
  Death in an hundred ugly fashions painted,
  And if she slept, then was her grief augmented,
  With such sad visions were her thoughts acquainted;
  She saw her lord with wounds and hurts tormented,
  How he complained, called for her help, and fainted,
  And found, awaked from that unquiet sleeping,
  Her heart with panting sore; eyes, red with weeping.

  LXVI
  Yet these presages of his coming ill,
  Not greatest cause of her discomfort were,
  She saw his blood from his deep wounds distil,
  Nor what he suffered could she bide or bear:
  Besides, report her longing ear did fill,
  Doubling his danger, doubling so her fear,
  That she concludes, so was her courage lost,
  Her wounded lord was weak, faint, dead almost.

  LXVII
  And for her mother had her taught before
  The secret virtue of each herb that springs,
  Besides fit charms for every wound or sore
  Corruption breedeth or misfortune brings, —
  An art esteemed in those times of yore,
  Beseeming daughters of great lords and kings —
  She would herself be surgeon to her knight,
  And heal him with her skill, or with her sight.

  LXVIII
  Thus would she cure her love, and cure her foe
  She must, that had her friends and kinsfolk slain:
  Some cursed weeds her cunning hand did know,
  That could augment his harm, increase his pain;
  But she abhorred to be revenged so,
  No treason should her spotless person stain,
  And virtueless she wished all herbs and charms
  Wherewith false men increase their patients' harms.

  LXIX
  Nor feared she among the bands to stray
  Of armed men, for often had she seen
  The tragic end of many a bloody fray;
  Her life had full of haps and hazards been,
  This made her bold in every hard assay,
  More than her feeble sex became, I ween;
  She feared not the shake of every reed,
  So cowards are courageous made through need.

  LXX
  Love, fearless, hardy, and audacious love,
  Emboldened had this tender damsel so,
  That where wild beasts and serpents glide and move
  Through Afric's deserts durst she ride or go,
  Save that her honor, she esteemed above
  Her life and body's safety, told her no;
  For in the secret of her troubled thought,
  A doubtful combat, love and honor fought.

  LXXI
  "O spotless virgin," Honor thus began,
  "That my true lore observed firmly hast,
  When with thy foes thou didst in bondage won,
  Remember then I kept thee pure and chaste,
  At liberty now, where wouldest thou run,
  To lay that field of princely virtue waste,
  Or lost that jewel ladies hold so dear?
  Is maidenhood so great a load to bear?

  LXXII
  "Or deem'st thou it a praise of little prize,
  The glorious title of a virgin's name?
  That thou will gad by night in giglot wise,
  Amid thine armed foes, to seek thy shame.
  O fool, a woman conquers when she flies,
  Refusal kindleth, proffers quench the flame.
  Thy lord will judge thou sinnest beyond measure,
  If vainly thus thou waste so rich a treasure."

  LXXIII
  The sly deceiver Cupid thus beguiled
  The simple damsel, with his filed tongue:
  "Thou wert not born," quoth he, "in desert wild
  The cruel bears and savage beasts among,
  That you shouldest scorn fair Citherea's child,
  Or hate those pleasures that to youth belong,
  Nor did the gods thy heart of iron frame;
  To be in love is neither sin nor shame.

  LXXIV
  "Go then, go, whither sweet desire inviteth,
  How can thy gentle knight so cruel be?
  Love in his heart thy grief and sorrows writeth,
  For thy laments how he complaineth, see.
  Oh cruel woman, whom no care exciteth
  To save his life, that saved and honored thee!
  He languished, one foot thou wilt not move
  To succor him, yet say'st thou art in love.

  LXXV
  "No, no, stay here Argantes' wounds to cure,
  And make him strong to shed thy darling's blood,
  Of such reward he may himself assure,
  That doth a thankless woman so much good:
  Ah, may it be thy patience can endure
  To see the strength of this Circassian wood,
  And not with horror and amazement shrink,
  When on their future fight thou hap'st to think?

  LXXVI
  "Besides the thanks and praises for the deed,
  Suppose what joy, what comfort shalt thou win,
  When thy soft hand doth wholesome plaisters speed,
  Upon the breaches in his ivory skin,
  Thence to thy dearest lord may health succeed,
  Strength to his limbs, blood to his cheeks so thin,
  And his rare beauties, now half dead and more,
  Thou may'st to him, him to thyself restore.

  LXXVII
  "So shall some part of his adventures bold
  And valiant acts henceforth be held as thine;
  His dear embracements shall thee straight enfold,
  Together joined in marriage rites divine:
  Lastly high place of honor shalt thou hold
  Among the matrons sage and dames Latine,
  In Italy, a land, as each one tells,
  Where valor true, and true religion dwells."

  LXXVIII
  With such vain hopes the silly maid abused,
  Promised herself mountains and hills of gold;
  Yet were her thoughts with doubts and fears confused
  How to escape unseen out of that hold,
  Because the watchman every minute used
  To guard the walls against the Christians bold,
  And in such fury and such heat of war,
  The gates or seld or never opened are.

  LXXIX
  With strong Clorinda was Erminia sweet
  In surest links of dearest friendship bound,
  With her she used the rising sun to greet,
  And her, when Phoebus glided under ground,
  She made the lovely partner of her sheet;
  In both their hearts one will, one thought was found;
  Nor aught she hid from that virago bold,
  Except her love, that tale to none she told.

  LXXX
  That kept she secret, if Clorinda heard
  Her make complaints, or secretly lament,
  To other cause her sorrow she referred:
  Matter enough she had of discontent,
  Like as the bird that having close imbarred
  Her tender young ones in the springing bent,
  To draw the searcher further from her nest,
  Cries and complains most where she needeth least.

  LXXXI
  Alone, within her chamber's secret part,
  Sitting one day upon her heavy thought,
  Devising by what means, what sleight, what art,
  Her close departure should be safest wrought,
  Assembled in her unresolved heart
  An hundred passions strove and ceaseless fought;
  At last she saw high hanging on the wall
  Clorinda's silver arms, and sighed withal:

  LXXXII
  And sighing, softly to herself she said,
  "How blessed is this virgin in her might?
  How I envy the glory of the maid,
  Yet envy not her shape, or beauty's light;
  Her steps are not with trailing garments stayed,
  Nor chambers hide her valor shining bright;
  But armed she rides, and breaketh sword and spear,
  Nor is her strength restrained by shame or fear.

  LXXXIII
  "Alas, why did not Heaven these members frail
  With lively force and vigor strengthen so
  That I this silken gown and slender veil
  Might for a breastplate and an helm forego?
  Then should not heat, nor cold, nor rain, nor hail,
  Nor storms that fall, nor blustering winds that blow
  Withhold me, but I would both day and night,
  In pitched field, or private combat fight.

  LXXXIV
  "Nor haddest thou, Argantes, first begun
  With my dear lord that fierce and cruel fight,
  But I to that encounter would have run,
  And haply ta'en him captive by my might;
  Yet should he find, our furious combat done,
  His thraldom easy, and his bondage light;
  For fetters, mine embracements should he prove;
  For diet, kisses sweet; for keeper, love.

  LXXXV
  "Or else my tender bosom opened wide,
  And heart though pierced with his cruel blade,
  The bloody weapon in my wounded side
  Might cure the wound which love before had made;
  Then should my soul in rest and quiet slide
  Down to the valleys of the Elysian shade,
  And my mishap the knight perchance would move,
  To shed some tears upon his murdered love.

  LXXXVI
  "Alas! impossible are all these things,
  Such wishes vain afflict my woful sprite,
  Why yield I thus to plaints and sorrowings,
  As if all hope and help were perished quite?
  My heart dares much, it soars with Cupid's wings,
  Why use I not for once these armors bright?
  I may sustain awhile this shield aloft,
  Though I be tender, feeble, weak and soft.

  LXXXVII
  "Love, strong, bold, mighty never-tired love,
  Supplieth force to all his servants true;
  The fearful stags he doth to battle move,
  Till each his horns in others' blood imbrue;
  Yet mean not I the haps of war to prove,
  A stratagem I have devised new,
  Clorinda-like in this fair harness dight,
  I will escape out of the town this night.

  LXXXVIII
  "I know the men that have the gate to ward,
  If she command are not her will deny,
  In what sort else could I beguile the guard?
  This way is only left, this will I try:
  O gentle love, in this adventure hard
  Thine handmaid guide, assist and fortify!
  The time, the hour now fitteth best the thing,
  While stout Clorinda talketh with the king."

  LXXXIX
  Resolved thus, without delay she went,
  As her strong passion did her rashly guide,
  And those bright arms, down from the rafter hent,
  Within her closet did she closely hide;
  That might she do unseen, for she had sent
  The rest, on sleeveless errands from her side,
  And night her stealths brought to their wished end,
  Night, patroness of thieves, and lovers' friend.

  XC
  Some sparkling fires on heaven's bright visage shone;
  His azure robe the orient blueness lost,
  When she, whose wit and reason both were gone,
  Called for a squire she loved and trusted most,
  To whom and to a maid, a faithful one,
  Part of her will she told, how that in post
  She would depart from Juda's king, and feigned
  That other cause her sudden flight constrained.

  XCI
  The trusty squire provided needments meet,
  As for their journey fitting most should be;
  Meanwhile her vesture, pendant to her feet,
  Erminia doft, as erst determined she,
  Stripped to her petticoat the virgin sweet
  So slender was, that wonder was to see;
  Her handmaid ready at her mistress' will,
  To arm her helped, though simple were her skill.

  XCII
  The rugged steel oppressed and offended
  Her dainty neck, and locks of shining gold;
  Her tender arm so feeble was, it bended
  When that huge target it presumed to hold,
  The burnished steel bright rays far off extended,
  She feigned courage, and appeared bold;
  Fast by her side unseen smiled Venus' son,
  As erst he laughed when Alcides spun.

  XCIII
  Oh, with what labor did her shoulders bear
  That heavy burthen, and how slow she went!
  Her maid, to see that all the coasts were clear,
  Before her mistress, through the streets was sent;
  Love gave her courage, love exiled fear,
  Love to her tired limbs new vigor lent,
  Till she approached where the squire abode,
  There took they horse forthwith and forward rode.

  XCIV
  Disguised they went, and by unused ways,
  And secret paths they strove unseen to gone,
  Until the watch they meet, which sore affrays
  Their soldiers new, when swords and weapons shone
  Yet none to stop their journey once essays,
  But place and passage yielded every one;
  For that while armor, and that helmet bright,
  Were known and feared, in the darkest night.

  XCV
  Erminia, though some deal she were dismayed,
  Yet went she on, and goodly countenance bore,
  She doubted lest her purpose were bewrayed,
  Her too much boldness she repented sore;
  But now the gate her fear and passage stayed,
  The heedless porter she beguiled therefore,
  "I am Clorinda, ope the gate," she cried,
  "Where as the king commands, this late I ride."

  XCVI
  Her woman's voice and terms all framed been,
  Most like the speeches of the princess stout,
  Who would have thought on horseback to have seen
  That feeble damsel armed round about?
  The porter her obeyed, and she, between
  Her trusty squire and maiden, sallied out,
  And through the secret dales they silent pass,
  Where danger least, least fear, least peril was.

  XCVII
  But when these fair adventurers entered were
  Deep in a vale, Erminia stayed her haste,
  To be recalled she had no cause to fear,
  This foremost hazard had she trimly past;
  But dangers new, tofore unseen, appear,
  New perils she descried, new doubts she cast.
  The way that her desire to quiet brought,
  More difficult now seemed than erst she thought.

  XCVIII
  Armed to ride among her angry foes,
  She now perceived it were great oversight,
  Yet would she not, she thought, herself disclose,
  Until she came before her chosen knight,
  To him she purposed to present the rose
  Pure, spotless, clean, untouched of mortal wight,
  She stayed therefore, and in her thoughts more wise,
  She called her squire, whom thus she gan advise.

  XCIX
  "Thou must," quoth she, "be mine ambassador,
  Be wise, be careful, true, and diligent,
  Go to the camp, present thyself before
  The Prince Tancredi, wounded in his tent;
  Tell him thy mistress comes to care his sore,
  If he to grant her peace and rest consent
  Gainst whom fierce love such cruel war hath raised,
  So shall his wounds be cured, her torments eased.

  C
  "And say, in him such hope and trust she hath,
  That in his powers she fears no shame nor scorn,
  Tell him thus much, and whatso'er he saith,
  Unfold no more, but make a quick return,
  I, for this place is free from harm and scath,
  Within this valley will meanwhile sojourn."
  Thus spake the princess: and her servant true
  To execute the charge imposed, flew;

  CI
  And was received, he so discreetly wrought,
  First of the watch that guarded in their place,
  Before the wounded prince then was he brought,
  Who heard his message kind, with gentle grace,
  Which told, he left him tossing in his thought
  A thousand doubts, and turned his speedy pace
  To bring his lady and his mistress word,
  She might be welcome to that courteous lord.

  CII
  But she, impatient, to whose desire
  Grievous and harmful seemed each little stay,
  Recounts his steps, and thinks, now draws he nigher,
  Now enters in, now speaks, now comes his way;
  And that which grieved her most, the careful squire
  Less speedy seemed than e'er before that day;
  Lastly she forward rode with love to guide,
  Until the Christian tents at hand she spied.

  CIII
  Invested in her starry veil, the night
  In her kind arms embraced all this round,
  The silver moon form sea uprising bright
  Spread frosty pearl upon the candid ground:
  And Cynthia-like for beauty's glorious light
  The love-sick nymph threw glittering beams around,
  And counsellors of her old love she made
  Those valleys dumb, that silence, and that shade.

  CIV
  Beholding then the camp, quoth she, "O fair
  And castle-like pavilions, richly wrought!
  From you how sweet methinketh blows the air,
  How comforts it my heart, my soul, my thought?
  Through heaven's fair face from gulf of sad despair
  My tossed bark to port well-nigh is brought:
  In you I seek redress for all my harms,
  Rest, midst your weapons; peace, amongst your arms.

  CV
  "Receive me, then, and let me mercy find,
  As gentle love assureth me I shall,
  Among you had I entertainment kind
  When first I was the Prince Tancredi's thrall:
  I covet not, led by ambition blind
  You should me in my father's throne install,
  Might I but serve in you my lord so dear,
  That my content, my joy, my comfort were."

  CVI
  Thus parleyed she, poor soul, and never feared
  The sudden blow of Fortune's cruel spite,
  She stood where Phoebe's splendent beam appeared
  Upon her silver armor double bright,
  The place about her round she shining cleared
  With that pure white wherein the nymph was dight:
  The tigress great, that on her helmet laid,
  Bore witness where she went, and where she stayed.

  CVII
  So as her fortune would, a Christian band
  Their secret ambush there had closely framed,
  Led by two brothers of Italia land,
  Young Poliphern and Alicandro named,
  These with their forces watched to withstand
  Those that brought victuals to their foes untamed,
  And kept that passage; them Erminia spied,
  And fled as fast as her swift steed could ride.

  CVIII
  But Poliphern, before whose watery eyes,
  His aged father strong Clorinda slew,
  When that bright shield and silver helm he spies,
  The championess he thought he saw and knew;
  Upon his hidden mates for aid he cries
  Gainst his supposed foe, and forth he flew,
  As he was rash, and heedless in his wrath,
  Bending his lance, "Thou art but dead," he saith.

  CIX
  As when a chased hind her course doth bend
  To seek by soil to find some ease or goad;
  Whether from craggy rock the spring descend,
  Or softly glide within the shady wood;
  If there the dogs she meet, where late she wend
  To comfort her weak limbs in cooling flood,
  Again she flies swift as she fled at first,
  Forgetting weakness, weariness and thirst.

  CX
  So she, that thought to rest her weary sprite,
  And quench the endless thirst of ardent love
  With dear embracements of her lord and knight,
  But such as marriage rites should first approve,
  When she beheld her foe, with weapon bright
  Threatening her death, his trusty courser move,
  Her love, her lord, herself abandoned,
  She spurred her speedy steed, and swift she fled.

  CXI
  Erminia fled, scantly the tender grass
  Her Pegasus with his light footsteps bent,
  Her maiden's beast for speed did likewise pass;
  Yet divers ways, such was their fear, they went:
  The squire who all too late returned, alas.
  With tardy news from Prince Tancredi's tent,
  Fled likewise, when he saw his mistress gone,
  It booted not to sojourn there alone.

  CXII
  But Alicandro wiser than the rest,
  Who this supposed Clorinda saw likewise,
  To follow her yet was he nothing pressed,
  But in his ambush still and close he lies,
  A messenger to Godfrey he addressed,
  That should him of this accident advise,
  How that his brother chased with naked blade
  Clorinda's self, or else Clorinda's shade.

  CXIII
  Yet that it was, or that it could be she,
  He had small cause or reason to suppose,
  Occasion great and weighty must it be
  Should make her ride by night among her foes:
  What Godfrey willed that observed he,
  And with his soldiers lay in ambush close:
  These news through all the Christian army went,
  In every cabin talked, in every tent.

  CXIV
  Tancred, whose thoughts the squire had filled with doubt
  By his sweet words, supposed now hearing this,
  Alas! the virgin came to seek me out,
  And for my sake her life in danger is;
  Himself forthwith he singled from the rout,
  And rode in haste, though half his arms he miss;
  Among those sandy fields and valleys green,
  To seek his love, he galloped fast unseen.

SEVENTH BOOK

  THE ARGUMENT.
  A shepherd fair Erminia entertains,
  Whom whilst Tancredi seeks in vain to find,
  He is entrapped in Armida's trains:
  Raymond with strong Argantes is assigned
  To fight, an angel to his aid he gains:
  Satan that sees the Pagan's fury blind,
  And hasty wrath turn to his loss and harm,
  Doth raise new tempest, uproar and alarm.

  I
  Erminia's steed this while his mistress bore
  Through forests thick among the shady treen,
  Her feeble hand the bridle reins forlore,
  Half in a swoon she was, for fear I ween;
  But her fleet courser spared ne'er the more,
  To bear her through the desert woods unseen
  Of her strong foes, that chased her through the plain,
  And still pursued, but still pursued in vain.

  II
  Like as the weary hounds at last retire,
  Windless, displeased, from the fruitless chase,
  When the sly beast tapished in bush and brier,
  No art nor pains can rouse out of his place:
  The Christian knights so full of shame and ire
  Returned back, with faint and weary pace:
  Yet still the fearful dame fled swift as wind,
  Nor ever stayed, nor ever looked behind.

  III
  Through thick and thin, all night, all day, she drived,
  Withouten comfort, company, or guide,
  Her plaints and tears with every thought revived,
  She heard and saw her griefs, but naught beside:
  But when the sun his burning chariot dived
  In Thetis' wave, and weary team untied,
  On Jordan's sandy banks her course she stayed
  At last, there down she light, and down she laid.

  IV
  Her tears, her drink; her food, her sorrowings,
  This was her diet that unhappy night:
  But sleep, that sweet repose and quiet brings,
  To ease the griefs of discontented wight,
  Spread forth his tender, soft, and nimble wings,
  In his dull arms folding the virgin bright;
  And Love, his mother, and the Graces kept
  Strong watch and ward, while this fair lady slept.

  V
  The birds awoke her with their morning song,
  Their warbling music pierced her tender ear,
  The murmuring brooks and whistling winds among
  The rattling boughs and leaves, their parts did bear;
  Her eyes unclosed beheld the groves along
  Of swains and shepherd grooms that dwellings were;
  And that sweet noise, birds, winds and waters sent,
  Provoked again the virgin to lament.

  VI
  Her plaints were interrupted with a sound,
  That seemed from thickest bushes to proceed,
  Some jolly shepherd sung a lusty round,
  And to his voice he tuned his oaten reed;
  Thither she went, an old man there she found,
  At whose right hand his little flock did feed,
  Sat making baskets, his three sons among,
  That learned their father's art, and learned his song.

  VIII
  "But, father, since this land, these towns and towers
  Destroyed are with sword, with fire and spoil,
  How many it be unhurt that you and yours
  In safety thus apply your harmless toil?"
  "My son," quoth he, "this poor estate of ours
  Is ever safe from storm of warlike broil;
  This wilderness doth us in safety keep,
  No thundering drum, no trumpet breaks our sleep.

  IX
  "Haply just Heaven's defence and shield of right
  Doth love the innocence of simple swains,
  The thunderbolts on highest mountains light,
  And seld or never strike the lower plains;
  So kings have cause to fear Bellona's might,
  Not they whose sweat and toil their dinner gains,
  Nor ever greedy soldier was enticed
  By poverty, neglected and despised.

  X
  "O poverty, chief of the heavenly brood,
  Dearer to me than wealth or kingly crown:
  No wish for honor, thirst of others' good,
  Can move my heart, contented with mine own:
  We quench our thirst with water of this flood,
  Nor fear we poison should therein be thrown;
  These little flocks of sheep and tender goats
  Give milk for food, and wool to make us coats.

  XI
  "We little wish, we need but little wealth,
  From cold and hunger us to clothe and feed;
  These are my sons, their care preserves form stealth
  Their father's flocks, nor servants more I need:
  Amid these groves I walk oft for my health,
  And to the fishes, birds, and beasts give heed,
  How they are fed, in forest, spring and lake,
  And their contentment for example take.

  XII
  "Time was, for each one hath his doating time,
  These silver locks were golden tresses then,
  That country life I hated as a crime,
  And from the forest's sweet contentment ran,
  To Memphis's stately palace would I climb,
  And there I but a simple gardener were,
  Yet could I mark abuses, see and hear.

  XIII
  "Enticed on with hope of future gain,
  I suffered long what did my soul displease;
  But when my youth was spent, my hope was vain.
  I felt my native strength at last decrease;
  I gan my loss of lusty years complain,
  And wished I had enjoyed the country's peace;
  I bade the court farewell, and with content
  My latter age here have I quiet spent."

  XIV
  While thus he spake, Erminia hushed and still
  His wise discourses heard, with great attention,
  His speeches grave those idle fancies kill
  Which in her troubled soul bred such dissension;
  After much thought reformed was her will,
  Within those woods to dwell was her intention,
  Till Fortune should occasion new afford,
  To turn her home to her desired lord.

  XV
  She said therefore, "O shepherd fortunate!
  That troubles some didst whilom feel and prove,
  Yet livest now in this contented state,
  Let my mishap thy thoughts to pity move,
  To entertain me as a willing mate
  In shepherd's life which I admire and love;
  Within these pleasant groves perchance my heart,
  Of her discomforts, may unload some part.

  XVI
  "If gold or wealth, of most esteemed dear,
  If jewels rich thou diddest hold in prize,
  Such store thereof, such plenty have I here,
  As to a greedy mind might well suffice:"
  With that down trickled many a silver tear,
  Two crystal streams fell from her watery eyes;
  Part of her sad misfortunes then she told,
  And wept, and with her wept that shepherd old.

  XVII
  With speeches kind, he gan the virgin dear
  Toward his cottage gently home to guide;
  His aged wife there made her homely cheer,
  Yet welcomed her, and placed her by her side.
  The princess donned a poor pastoral's gear,
  A kerchief coarse upon her head she tied;
  But yet her gestures and her looks, I guess,
  Were such as ill beseemed a shepherdess.

  XVIII
  Not those rude garments could obscure and hide
  The heavenly beauty of her angel's face,
  Nor was her princely offspring damnified
  Or aught disparaged by those labors base;
  Her little flocks to pasture would she guide,
  And milk her goats, and in their folds them place,
  Both cheese and butter could she make, and frame
  Herself to please the shepherd and his dame.

  XIX
  But oft, when underneath the greenwood shade
  Her flocks lay hid from Phoebus' scorching rays,
  Unto her knight she songs and sonnets made,
  And them engraved in bark of beech and bays;
  She told how Cupid did her first invade,
  How conquered her, and ends with Tancred's praise:
  And when her passion's writ she over read,
  Again she mourned, again salt tears she shed.

  XX
  "You happy trees forever keep," quoth she,
  "This woful story in your tender rind,
  Another day under your shade maybe
  Will come to rest again some lover kind;
  Who if these trophies of my griefs he see,
  Shall feel dear pity pierce his gentle mind;"
  With that she sighed and said, "Too late I prove
  There is no troth in fortune, trust in love.

  XXI
  "Yet may it be, if gracious heavens attend
  The earnest suit of a distressed wight,
  At my entreat they will vouchsafe to send
  To these huge deserts that unthankful knight,
  That when to earth the man his eyes shall bend,
  And sees my grave, my tomb, and ashes light,
  My woful death his stubborn heart may move,
  With tears and sorrows to reward my love.

  XXII
  "So, though my life hath most unhappy been,
  At least yet shall my spirit dead be blest,
  My ashes cold shall, buried on this green,
  Enjoy that good this body ne'er possessed."
  Thus she complained to the senseless treen,
  Floods in her eyes, and fires were in her breast;
  But he for whom these streams of tears she shed,
  Wandered far off, alas, as chance him led.

  XXIII
  He followed on the footsteps he had traced,
  Till in high woods and forests old he came,
  Where bushes, thorns and trees so thick were placed,
  And so obscure the shadows of the same,
  That soon he lost the tract wherein he paced;
  Yet went he on, which way he could not aim,
  But still attentive was his longing ear
  If noise of horse or noise of arms he hear.

  XXIV
  If with the breathing of the gentle wind,
  An aspen leaf but shaked on the tree,
  If bird or beast stirred in the bushes blind,
  Thither he spurred, thither he rode to see:
  Out of the wood by Cynthia's favor kind,
  At last, with travel great and pains, got he,
  And following on a little path, he heard
  A rumbling sound, and hasted thitherward.

  XXV
  It was a fountain from the living stone,
  That poured down clear streams in noble store,
  Whose conduit pipes, united all in one,
  Throughout a rocky channel ghastly roar;
  Here Tancred stayed, and called, yet answered none,
  Save babbling echo, from the crooked shore;
  And there the weary knight at last espies
  The springing daylight red and white arise.

  XXVI
  He sighed sore, and guiltless heaven gan blame,
  That wished success to his desire denied,
  And sharp revenge protested for the same,
  If aught but good his mistress fair betide;
  Then wished he to return the way he came,
  Although he wist not by what path to ride,
  And time drew near when he again must fight
  With proud Argantes, that vain-glorious knight.

  XXVII
  His stalwart steed the champion stout bestrode
  And pricked fast to find the way he lost,
  But through a valley as he musing rode,
  He saw a man that seemed for haste a post,
  His horn was hung between his shoulders broad,
  As is the guise with us: Tancredi crossed
  His way, and gently prayed the man to say,
  To Godfrey's camp how he should find the way.

  XXVIII
  "Sir," in the Italian language answered he,
  "I ride where noble Boemond hath me sent:"
  The prince thought this his uncle's man should be,
  And after him his course with speed he bent,
  A fortress stately built at last they see,
  Bout which a muddy stinking lake there went,
  There they arrived when Titan went to rest
  His weary limbs in night's untroubled nest.

  XXIX
  The courier gave the fort a warning blast;
  The drawbridge was let down by them within:
  "If thou a Christian be," quoth he, "thou mayest
  Till Phoebus shine again, here take thine inn,
  The County of Cosenza, three days past,
  This castle from the Turks did nobly win."
  The prince beheld the piece, which site and art
  Impregnable had made on every part.

  XXX
  He feared within a pile so fortified
  Some secret treason or enchantment lay,
  But had he known even there he should have died,
  Yet should his looks no sign of fear betray;
  For wheresoever will or chance him guide,
  His strong victorious hand still made him way:
  Yet for the combat he must shortly make,
  No new adventures list he undertake.

  XXXI
  Before the castle, in a meadow plain
  Beside the bridge's end, he stayed and stood,
  Nor was entreated by the speeches vain
  Of his false guide, to pass beyond the flood.
  Upon the bridge appeared a warlike swain,
  From top to toe all clad in armor good,
  Who brandishing a broad and cutting sword,
  Thus threatened death with many an idle word.

  XXXII
  "O thou, whom chance or will brings to the soil,
  Where fair Armida doth the sceptre guide,
  Thou canst not fly, of arms thyself despoil,
  And let thy hands with iron chains be tied;
  Enter and rest thee from thy weary toil.
  Within this dungeon shalt thou safe abide,
  And never hope again to see the day,
  Or that thy hair for age shall turn to gray;

  XXXIII
  "Except thou swear her valiant knights to aid
  Against those traitors of the Christian crew."
  Tancred at this discourse a little stayed,
  His arms, his gesture, and his voice he knew:
  It was Rambaldo, who for that false maid
  Forsook his country and religion true,
  And of that fort defender chief became,
  And those vile creatures stablished in the same.

  XXXIV
  The warrior answered, blushing red for shame,
  "Cursed apostate, and ungracious wight,
  I am that Tancred who defend the name
  Of Christ, and have been aye his faithful knight;
  His rebel foes can I subdue and tame,
  As thou shalt find before we end this fight;
  And thy false heart cleft with this vengeful sword,
  Shall feel the ire of thy forsaken Lord."

  XXXV
  When that great name Rambaldo's ears did fill,
  He shook for fear and looked pale for dread,
  Yet proudly said, "Tancred, thy hap was ill
  To wander hither where thou art but dead,
  Where naught can help, thy courage, strength and skill;
  To Godfrey will I send thy cursed head,
  That he may see, how for Armida's sake,
  Of him and of his Christ a scorn I make."

  XXXVI
  This said, the day to sable night was turned,
  That scant one could another's arms descry,
  But soon an hundred lamps and torches burned,
  That cleared all the earth and all the sky;
  The castle seemed a stage with lights adorned,
  On which men play some pompous tragedy;
  Within a terrace sat on high the queen,
  And heard, and saw, and kept herself unseen.

  XXXVII
  The noble baron whet his courage hot,
  And busked him boldly to the dreadful fight;
  Upon his horse long while he tarried not,
  Because on foot he saw the Pagan knight,
  Who underneath his trusty shield was got,
  His sword was drawn, closed was his helmet bright,
  Gainst whom the prince marched on a stately pace,
  Wrath in his voice, rage in his eyes and face.

  XXXVIII
  His foe, his furious charge not well abiding,
  Traversed his ground, and stated here and there,
  But he, though faint and weary both with riding,
  Yet followed fast and still oppressed him near,
  And on what side he felt Rambaldo sliding,
  On that his forces most employed were;
  Now at his helm, not at his hauberk bright,
  He thundered blows, now at his face and sight.

  XXXIX
  Against those numbers battery chief he maketh,
  Wherein man's life keeps chiefest residence;
  At his proud threats the Gascoign warrior quaketh,
  And uncouth fear appalled every sense,
  To nimble shifts the knight himself betaketh,
  And skippeth here and there for his defence:
  Now with his rage, now with his trusty blade,
  Against his blows he good resistance made.

  XL
  Yet no such quickness for defence he used,
  As did the prince to work him harm and scathe;
  His shield was cleft in twain, his helmet bruised,
  And in his blood is other arms did bathe;
  On him he heaped blows, with thrusts confused,
  And more or less each stroke annoyed him hath;
  He feared, and in his troubled bosom strove
  Remorse of conscience, shame, disdain and love.

  XLI
  At last so careless foul despair him made,
  He meant to prove his fortune ill or good,
  His shield cast down, he took his helpless blade
  In both his hands, which yet had drawn no blood,
  And with such force upon the prince he laid,
  That neither plate nor mail the blow withstood,
  The wicked steel seized deep in his right side,
  And with his streaming blood his bases dyed:

  XLII
  Another stroke he lent him on the brow,
  So great that loudly rung the sounding steel;
  Yet pierced he not the helmet with the blow,
  Although the owner twice or thrice did reel.
  The prince, whose looks disdainful anger show,
  Now meant to use his puissance every deal,
  He shaked his head and crashed his teeth for ire,
  His lips breathed wrath, eyes sparkled shining fire.

  XLIII
  The Pagan wretch no longer could sustain
  The dreadful terror of his fierce aspect,
  Against the threatened blow he saw right plain
  No tempered armor could his life protect,
  He leapt aside, the stroke fell down in vain,
  Against a pillar near a bridge erect.
  Thence flaming fire and thousand sparks outstart,
  And kill with fear the coward Pagan's heart.

  XLIV
  Toward the bridge the fearful Paynim fled,
  And in swift flight, his hope of life reposed;
  Himself fast after Lord Tancredi sped,
  And now in equal pace almost they closed,
  When all the burning lamps extinguished
  The shining fort his goodly splendor losed,
  And all those stars on heaven's blue face that shone
  With Cynthia's self, dispeared were and gone.

  XLV
  Amid those witchcrafts and that ugly shade,
  No further could the prince pursue the chase,
  Nothing he saw, yet forward still he made,
  With doubtful steps, and ill assured pace;
  At last his foot upon a threshold trad,
  And ere he wist, he entered had the place;
  With ghastly noise the door-leaves shut behind,
  And closed him fast in prison dark and blind.

  XLVI
  As in our seas in the Commachian Bay,
  A silly fish, with streams enclosed, striveth,
  To shun the fury and avoid the sway
  Wherewith the current in that whirlpool driveth,
  Yet seeketh all in vain, but finds no way
  Out of that watery prison, where she diveth:
  For with such force there be the tides in brought,
  There entereth all that will, thence issueth naught:

  XLVII
  This prison so entrapped that valiant knight;
  Of which the gate was framed by subtle train,
  To close without the help of human wight,
  So sure none could undo the leaves again;
  Against the doors he bended all his might,
  But all his forces were employed in vain,
  At last a voice gan to him loudly call,
  "Yield thee," quoth it, "thou art Armida's thrall."

  XLVIII
  "Within this dungeon buried shalt thou spend
  The res'due of thy woful days and years;"
  The champions list not more with words contend,
  But in his heart kept close his griefs and fears,
  He blamed love, chance gan he reprehend,
  And gainst enchantment huge complaints he rears.
  "It were small loss," softly he thus begun,
  "To lose the brightness of the shining sun;

  XLIX
  "But I. alas, the golden beam forego
  Of my far brighter sun; nor can I say
  If these poor eyes shall e'er be blessed so,
  As once again to view that shining ray:"
  Then thought he on his proud Circassian foe,
  And said, "Ah! how shall I perform that fray?
  He, and the world with him, will Tancred blame,
  This is my grief, my fault, mine endless shame."

  L
  While those high spirits of this champion good,
  With love and honor's care are thus oppressed,
  While he torments himself, Argantes wood,
  Waxed weary of his bed and of his rest,
  Such hate of peace, and such desire of blood,
  Such thirst of glory, boiled in his breast;
  That though he scant could stir or stand upright,
  Yet longed he for the appointed day to fight.

  LI
  The night which that expected day forewent,
  Scantly the Pagan closed his eyes to sleep,
  He told how night her sliding hours spent,
  And rose ere springing day began to peep;
  He called for armor, which incontinent
  Was brought by him that used the same to keep,
  That harness rich old Aladine him gave,
  A worthy present for a champion brave.

  LII
  He donned them on, not long their riches eyed,
  Nor did he aught with so great weight incline,
  His wonted sword upon his thigh he tied,
  The blade was old and tough, of temper fine.
  As when a comet far and wide descried,
  In scorn of Phoebus midst bright heaven doth shine,
  And tidings sad of death and mischief brings
  To mighty lords, to monarchs, and to kings.

  LIII
  So shone the Pagan in bright armor clad,
  And rolled his eyes great swollen with ire and blood,
  His dreadful gestures threatened horror sad,
  And ugly death upon his forehead stood;
  Not one of all his squires the courage had
  To approach their master in his angry mood,
  Above his head he shook his naked blade,
  And gainst the subtle air vain battle made.

  LIV
  "The Christian thief," quoth he, "that was so bold
  To combat me in hard and single fight,
  Shall wounded fall inglorious on the mould,
  His locks with clods of blood and dust bedight,
  And living shall with watery eyes behold
  How from his back I tear his harness bright,
  Nor shall his dying words me so entreat,
  But that I'll give his flesh to dogs for meat."

  LV
  Like as a bull when, pricked with jealousy,
  He spies the rival of his hot desire,
  Through all the fields doth bellow, roar and cry,
  And with his thundering voice augments his ire,
  And threatening battle to the empty sky,
  Tears with his horn each tree, plant, bush and brier,
  And with his foot casts up the sand on height,
  Defying his strong foe to deadly fight:

  LVI
  Such was the Pagan's fury, such his cry.
  A herald called he then, and thus he spoke;
  "Go to the camp, and in my name, defy
  The man that combats for his Jesus' sake;"
  This said, upon his steed he mounted high,
  And with him did his noble prisoner take,
  The town he thus forsook, and on the green
  He ran, as mad or frantic he had been.

  LVII
  A bugle small he winded loud and shrill,
  That made resound the fields and valleys near,
  Louder than thunder from Olympus hill
  Seemed that dreadful blast to all that hear;
  The Christian lords of prowess, strength and skill,
  Within the imperial tent assembled were,
  The herald there in boasting terms defied
  Tancredi first, and all that durst beside.

  LVIII
  With sober those ten which chosen were by lot,
  And viewed at leisure every lord and knight;
  But yet for all his looks not one stepped out,
  With courage bold, to undertake the fight:
  Absent were all the Christian champions stout,
  No news of Tancred since his secret flight;
  Boemond far off, and banished from the crew
  Was that strong prince who proud Gernando slew:

  LIX
  And eke those ten which chosen were by lot,
  And all the worthies of the camp beside,
  After Armida false were followed hot,
  When night were come their fight to hide;
  The rest their hands and hearts that trusted not,
  Blushed for shame, yet silent still abide;
  For none there was that sought to purchase fame
  In so great peril, fear exiled shame.

  LX
  The angry duke their fear discovered plain,
  By their pale looks and silence from each part,
  And as he moved was with just disdain,
  These words he said, and from his seat upstart:
  "Unworthy life I judge that coward swain
  To hazard it even now that wants the heart,
  When this vile Pagan with his glorious boast
  Dishonors and defies Christ's sacred host.

  LXI
  "But let my camp sit still in peace and rest,
  And my life's hazard at their ease behold.
  Come bring me here my fairest arms and best;"
  And they were brought sooner than could be told.
  But gentle Raymond in his aged breast,
  Who had mature advice, and counsel old,
  Than whom in all the camp were none or few
  Of greater might, before Godfredo drew,

  LXII
  And gravely said, "Ah, let it not betide,
  On one man's hand to venture all his host!
  No private soldier thou, thou are our guide,
  If thou miscarry, all our hope were lost,
  By thee must Babel fell, and all her pride;
  Of our true faith thou art the prop and post,
  Rule with thy sceptre, conquer with thy word,
  Let others combat make with spear and sword.

  LXIII
  "Let me this Pagan's glorious pride assuage,
  These aged arms can yet their weapons use,
  Let others shun Bellona's dreadful rage,
  These silver locks shall not Raymondo scuse:
  Oh that I were in prime of lusty age,
  Like you that this adventure brave refuse,
  And dare not once lift up your coward eyes,
  Gainst him that you and Christ himself defies!

  LXIV
  "Or as I was when all the lords of fame
  And Germain princes great stood by to view,
  In Conrad's court, the second of that name,
  When Leopold in single fight I slew;
  A greater praise I reaped by the same,
  So strong a foe in combat to subdue,
  Than he should do who all alone should chase
  Or kill a thousand of these Pagans base.

  LXV
  "Within these arms, bad I that strength again,
  This boasting Paynim had not lived now,
  Yet in this breast doth courage still remain;
  For age or years these members shall not bow;
  And if I be in this encounter slain,
  Scotfree Argantes shall not scape, I vow;
  Give me mine arms, this battle shall with praise
  Augment mine honor, got in younger days."

  LXVI
  The jolly baron old thus bravely spake,
  His words are spurs to virtue; every knight
  That seemed before to tremble and to quake,
  Now talked bold, example hath such might;
  Each one the battle fierce would undertake,
  Now strove they all who should begin the fight;
  Baldwin and Roger both, would combat fain,
  Stephen, Guelpho, Gernier and the Gerrards twain;

  LXVII
  And Pyrrhus, who with help of Boemond's sword
  Proud Antioch by cunning sleight opprest;
  The battle eke with many a lowly word,
  Ralph, Rosimond, and Eberard request,
  A Scottish, an Irish, and an English lord,
  Whose lands the seas divide far from the rest,
  And for the fight did likewise humbly sue,
  Edward and his Gildippes, lovers true.

  LXVIII
  But Raymond more than all the rest doth sue
  Upon that Pagan fierce to wreak his ire,
  Now wants he naught of all his armors due
  Except his helm that shone like flaming fire.
  To whom Godfredo thus; "O mirror true
  Of antique worth! thy courage doth inspire
  New strength in us, of Mars in thee doth shine
  The art, the honor and the discipline.

  LXIX
  "If ten like thee of valor and of age,
  Among these legions I could haply find,
  I should the best of Babel's pride assuage,
  And spread our faith from Thule to furthest Inde;
  But now I pray thee calm thy valiant rage,
  Reserve thyself till greater need us bind,
  And let the rest each one write down his name,
  And see whom Fortune chooseth to this game, —

  LXX
  "Or rather see whom God's high judgement taketh,
  To whom is chance, and fate, and fortune slave."
  Raymond his earnest suit not yet forsaketh,
  His name writ with the residue would he have,
  Godfrey himself in his bright helmet shaketh
  The scrolls, with names of all the champions brave:
  They drew, and read the first whereon they hit,
  Wherein was "Raymond, Earl of Tholouse," writ.

  LXXI
  His name with joy and mighty shouts they bless;
  The rest allow his choice, and fortune praise,
  New vigor blushed through those looks of his;
  It seemed he now resumed his youthful days,
  Like to a snake whose slough new changed is,
  That shines like gold against the sunny rays:
  But Godfrey most approved his fortune high,
  And wished him honor, conquest, victory.

  LXXII
  Then from his side he took his noble brand,
  And giving it to Raymond, thus he spake:
  "This is the sword wherewith in Saxon land,
  The great Rubello battle used to make,
  From him I took it, fighting hand to hand,
  And took his life with it, and many a lake
  Of blood with it I have shed since that day,
  With thee God grant it proves as happy may."

  LXXIII
  Of these delays meanwhile impatient,
  Argantes threateneth loud and sternly cries,
  "O glorious people of the Occident!
  Behold him here that all your host defies:
  Why comes not Tancred, whose great hardiment,
  With you is prized so dear? Pardie he lies
  Still on his pillow, and presumes the night
  Again may shield him from my power and might.

  LXXIV
  "Why then some other come, by hand and hand,
  Come all, come forth on horseback, come on foot,
  If not one man dares combat hand to hand,
  In all the thousands of so great a rout:
  See where the tomb of Mary's Son doth stand,
  March thither, warriors hold, what makes you doubt?
  Why run you not, there for your sins to weep
  Or to what greater need these forces keep?"

  LXXV
  Thus scorned by that heathen Saracine
  Were all the soldiers of Christ's sacred name:
  Raymond, while others at his words repine,
  Burst forth in rage, he could not bear this shame:
  For fire of courage brighter far doth shine
  If challenges and threats augment the same;
  So that, upon his steed he mounted light,
  Which Aquilino for his swiftness hight.

  LXXVI
  This jennet was by Tagus bred; for oft
  The breeder of these beasts to war assigned,
  When first on trees burgeon the blossoms soft
  Pricked forward with the sting of fertile kind,
  Against the air casts up her head aloft
  And gathereth seed so from the fruitful wind
  And thus conceiving of the gentle blast,
  A wonder strange and rare, she foals at last.

  LXXVII
  And had you seen the beast, you would have said
  The light and subtile wind his father was;
  For if his course upon the sands he made
  No sign was left what way the beast did pass;
  Or if he menaged were, or if he played,
  He scantly bended down the tender grass:
  Thus mounted rode the Earl, and as he went,
  Thus prayed, to Heaven his zealous looks upbent.

  LXXVIII
  "O Lord, that diddest save, keep and defend
  Thy servant David from Goliath's rage,
  And broughtest that huge giant to his end,
  Slain by a faithful child of tender age;
  Like grace, O Lord, like mercy now extend!
  Let me this vile blasphemous pride assuage,
  That all the world may to thy glory know,
  Old men and babes thy foes can overthrow!"

  LXXIX
  Thus prayed the County, and his prayers dear
  Strengthened with zeal, with godliness and faith,
  Before the throne of that great Lord appear,
  In whose sweet grace is life, death in his wrath,
  Among his armies bright and legions clear,
  The Lord an angel good selected hath,
  To whom the charge was given to guard the knight,
  And keep him safe from that fierce Pagan's might.

  LXXX
  The angel good, appointed for the guard
  Of noble Raymond from his tender eild,
  That kept him then, and kept him afterward,
  When spear and sword he able was to wield,
  Now when his great Creator's will he heard,
  That in this fight he should him chiefly shield,
  Up to a tower set on a rock he flies,
  Where all the heavenly arms and weapons lies:

  LXXXI
  There stands the lance wherewith great Michael slew
  The aged dragon in a bloody fight,
  There are the dreadful thunders forged new,
  With storms and plagues that on poor sinners light;
  The massy trident mayest thou pendant view
  There on a golden pin hung up on height,
  Wherewith sometimes he smites this solid land,
  And throws down towns and towers thereon which stand.

  LXXXII
  Among the blessed weapons there which stands
  Upon a diamond shield his looks he bended,
  So great that it might cover all the lands,
  Twixt Caucasus and Atlas hills extended;
  With it the lord's dear flocks and faithful bands,
  The holy kings and cities are defended,
  The sacred angel took his target sheen,
  And by the Christian champion stood unseen.

  LXXXIII
  But now the walls and turrets round about,
  Both young and old with many thousands fill;
  The king Clorinda sent and her brave rout,
  To keep the field, she stayed upon the hill:
  Godfrey likewise some Christian bands sent out
  Which armed, and ranked in good array stood still,
  And to their champions empty let remain
  Twixt either troop a large and spacious plain.

  LXXXIV
  Argantes looked for Tancredi bold,
  But saw an uncouth foe at last appear,
  Raymond rode on, and what he asked him, told,
  Better by chance, "Tancred is now elsewhere,
  Yet glory not of that, myself behold
  Am come prepared, and bid thee battle here,
  And in his place, or for myself to fight,
  Lo, here I am, who scorn thy heathenish might."

  LXXXV
  The Pagan cast a scornful smile and said,
  "But where is Tancred, is he still in bed?
  His looks late seemed to make high heaven afraid;
  But now for dread he is or dead or fled;
  But whe'er earth's centre or the deep sea made
  His lurking hole, it should not save his head."
  "Thou liest," he says, "to say so brave a knight
  Is fled from thee, who thee exceeds in might."

  LXXXVI
  The angry Pagan said, "I have not spilt
  My labor then, if thou his place supply,
  Go take the field, and let's see how thou wilt
  Maintain thy foolish words and that brave lie;"
  Thus parleyed they to meet in equal tilt,
  Each took his aim at other's helm on high,
  Even in the fight his foe good Raymond hit,
  But shaked him not, he did so firmly sit.

  LXXXVII
  The fierce Circassian missed of his blow,
  A thing which seld befell the man before,
  The angel, by unseen, his force did know,
  And far awry the poignant weapon bore,
  He burst his lance against the sand below,
  And bit his lips for rage, and cursed and swore,
  Against his foe returned he swift as wind,
  Half mad in arms a second match to find.

  LXXXVIII
  Like to a ram that butts with horned head,
  So spurred he forth his horse with desperate race:
  Raymond at his right hand let slide his steed,
  And as he passed struck at the Pagan's face;
  He turned again, the earl was nothing dread,
  Yet stept aside, and to his rage gave place,
  And on his helm with all his strength gan smite,
  Which was so hard his courtlax could not bite.

  LXXXIX
  The Saracen employed his art and force
  To grip his foe within his mighty arms,
  But he avoided nimbly with his horse,
  He was no prentice in those fierce alarms,
  About him made he many a winding course,
  No strength, nor sleight the subtle warrior harms,
  His nimble steed obeyed his ready hand,
  And where he stept no print left in the sand.

  XC
  As when a captain doth besiege some hold,
  Set in a marsh or high up on a hill,
  And trieth ways and wiles a thousandfold,
  To bring the piece subjected to his will;
  So fared the County with the Pagan bold;
  And when he did his head and breast none ill,
  His weaker parts he wisely gan assail,
  And entrance searched oft 'twixt mail and mail.

  XCI
  At last he hit him on a place or twain,
  That on his arms the red blood trickled down,
  And yet himself untouched did remain,
  No nail was broke, no plume cut from his crown;
  Argantes raging spent his strength in vain,
  Waste were his strokes, his thrusts were idle thrown,
  Yet pressed he on, and doubled still his blows,
  And where he hits he neither cares nor knows.

  XCII
  Among a thousand blows the Saracine
  At last struck one, when Raymond was so near,
  That not the swiftness of his Aquiline
  Could his dear lord from that huge danger bear:
  But lo, at hand unseen was help divine,
  Which saves when worldly comforts none appear,
  The angel on his targe received that stroke,
  And on that shield Argantes' sword was broke.

  XCIII
  The sword was broke, therein no wonder lies
  If earthly tempered metal could not hold
  Against that target forged above the skies,
  Down fell the blade in pieces on the mould;
  The proud Circassian scant believed his eyes,
  Though naught were left him but the hilts of gold,
  And full of thoughts amazed awhile he stood,
  Wondering the Christian's armor was so good.

  XCIV
  The brittle web of that rich sword he thought,
  Was broke through hardness of the County's shield;
  And so thought Raymond, who discovered naught
  What succor Heaven did for his safety yield:
  But when he saw the man gainst whom he fought
  Unweaponed, still stood he in the field;
  His noble heart esteemed the glory light,
  At such advantage if he slew the knight.

  XCV
  "Go fetch," he would have said, "another blade,"
  When in his heart a better thought arose,
  How for Christ's glory he was champion made,
  How Godfrey had him to this combat chose,
  The army's honor on his shoulder laid
  To hazards new he list not that expose;
  While thus his thoughts debated on the case,
  The hilts Argantes hurled at his face.

  XCVI
  And forward spurred his mounture fierce withal,
  Within his arms longing his foe to strain,
  Upon whose helm the heavy blow did fall,
  And bent well-nigh the metal to his brain:
  But he, whose courage was heroical,
  Leapt by, and makes the Pagan's onset vain,
  And wounds his hand, which he outstretched saw,
  Fiercer than eagles' talon, lions' paw.

  XCVII
  Now here, now there, on every side he rode,
  With nimble speed, and spurred now out, now in,
  And as he went and came still laid on load
  Where Lord Argantes' arms were weak and thin;
  All that huge force which in his arms abode,
  His wrath, his ire, his great desire to win,
  Against his foe together all he bent,
  And heaven and fortune furthered his intent.

  XCVIII
  But he, whose courage for no peril fails,
  Well armed, and better hearted, scorns his power.
  Like a tall ship when spent are all her sails,
  Which still resists the rage of storm and shower,
  Whose mighty ribs fast bound with bands and nails,
  Withstands fierce Neptune's wrath, for many an hour,
  And yields not up her bruised keel to winds,
  In whose stern blast no ruth nor grace she finds:

  XCIX
  Argantes such thy present danger was,
  When Satan stirred to aid thee at thy need,
  In human shape he forged an airy mass,
  And made the shade a body seem indeed;
  Well might the spirit of Clorinda pass,
  Like her it was, in armor and in weed,
  In stature, beauty, countenance and face,
  In looks, in speech, in gesture, and in pace.

  C
  And for the spirit should seem the same indeed,
  From where she was whose show and shape it had,
  Toward the wall it rode with feigned speed,
  Where stood the people all dismayed and sad,
  To see their knight of help have so great need,
  And yet the law of arms all help forbad.
  There in a turret sat a soldier stout
  To watch, and at a loop-hole peeped out;

  CI
  The spirit spake to him, called Oradine,
  The noblest archer then that handled bow,
  "O Oradine," quoth she, "who straight as line
  Can'st shoot, and hit each mark set high or low,
  If yonder knight, alas! be slain in fine,
  As likest is, great ruth it were you know,
  And greater shame, if his victorious foe
  Should with his spoils triumphant homeward go.

  CII
  "Now prove thy skill, thine arrow's sharp head dip
  In yonder thievish Frenchman's guilty blood,
  I promise thee thy sovereign shall not slip
  To give thee large rewards for such a good;"
  Thus said the spirit; the man did laugh and skip
  For hope of future gain, nor longer stood,
  But from his quiver huge a shaft he hent,
  And set it in his mighty bow new bent,

  CIII
  Twanged the string, out flew the quarrel long,
  And through the subtle air did singing pass,
  It hit the knight the buckles rich among,
  Wherewith his precious girdle fastened was,
  It bruised them and pierced his hauberk strong,
  Some little blood down trickled on the grass;
  Light was the wound; the angel by unseen,
  The sharp head blunted of the weapon keen.

  CIV
  Raymond drew forth the shaft, as much behoved,
  And with the steel, his blood out streaming came,
  With bitter words his foe he then reproved,
  For breaking faith, to his eternal shame.
  Godfrey, whose careful eyes from his beloved
  Were never turned, saw and marked the same,
  And when he viewed the wounded County bleed,
  He sighed, and feared, more perchance than need;

  CV
  And with his words, and with his threatening eyes,
  He stirred his captains to revenge that wrong;
  Forthwith the spurred courser forward hies,
  Within their rests put were their lances long,
  From either side a squadron brave out flies,
  And boldly made a fierce encounter strong,
  The raised dust to overspread begun
  Their shining arms, and far more shining sun.

  CVI
  Of breaking spears, of ringing helm and shield,
  A dreadful rumor roared on every side,
  There lay a horse, another through the field
  Ran masterless, dismounted was his guide;
  Here one lay dead, there did another yield,
  Some sighed, some sobbed, some prayed, and some cried;
  Fierce was the fight, and longer still it lasted,
  Fiercer and fewer, still themselves they wasted.

  CVII
  Argantes nimbly leapt amid the throng,
  And from a soldier wrung an iron mace,
  And breaking through the ranks and ranges long,
  Therewith he passage made himself and place,
  Raymond he sought, the thickest press among.
  To take revenge for !ate received disgrace,
  A greedy wolf he seemed, and would assuage
  With Raymond's blood his hunger and his rage.

  CVIII
  The way he found not easy as he would,
  But fierce encounters put him oft to pain,
  He met Ormanno and Rogero bold,
  Of Balnavile, Guy, and the Gerrards twain;
  Yet nothing might his rage and haste withhold,
  These worthies strove to stop him, but in vain,
  With these strong lets increased still his ire,
  Like rivers stopped, or closely smouldered fire.

  CIX
  He slew Ormanno, and wounded Guy, and laid
  Rogero low, among the people slain,
  On every side new troops the man invade,
  Yet all their blows were waste, their onsets vain,
  But while Argantes thus his prizes played,
  And seemed alone this skirmish to sustain,
  The duke his brother called and thus he spake,
  "Go with thy troop, fight for thy Saviour's sake;

  CX
  "There enter in where hottest is the fight,
  Thy force against the left wing strongly bend."
  This said, so brave an onset gave the knight,
  That many a Paynim bold there made his end:
  The Turks too weak seemed to sustain his might,
  And could not from his power their lives defend,
  Their ensigns rent, and broke was their array,
  And men and horse on heaps together lay.

  CXI
  O'erthrown likewise away the right wing ran,
  Nor was there one again that turned his face,
  Save bold Argantes, else fled every man,
  Fear drove them thence on heaps, with headlong chase:
  He stayed alone, and battle new began,
  Five hundred men, weaponed with sword and mace,
  So great resistance never could have made,
  As did Argantes with his single blade:

  CXII
  The strokes of swords and thrusts of many a spear,
  The shock of many a joust he long sustained,
  He seemed of strength enough this charge to bear,
  And time to strike, now here, now there, he gained
  His armors broke, his members bruised were,
  He sweat and bled, yet courage still he feigned;
  But now his foes upon him pressed so fast,
  That with their weight they bore him back at last.

  CXIII
  His back against this storm at length he turned,
  Whose headlong fury bore him backward still,
  Not like to one that fled, but one that mourned
  Because he did his foes no greater ill,
  His threatening eyes like flaming torches burned,
  His courage thirsted yet more blood to spill,
  And every way and every mean he sought,
  To stay his flying mates, but all for naught.

  CXIV
  This good he did, while thus he played his part,
  His bands and troops at ease, and safe, retired;
  Yet coward dread lacks order, fear wants art,
  Deaf to attend, commanded or desired.
  But Godfrey that perceived in his wise heart,
  How his bold knights to victory aspired,
  Fresh soldiers sent, to make more quick pursuit,
  And help to gather conquest's precious fruit.

  CXV
  But this, alas, was not the appointed day,
  Set down by Heaven to end this mortal war:
  The western lords this time had borne away
  The prize, for which they travelled had so far,
  Had not the devils, that saw the sure decay
  Of their false kingdom by this bloody war,
  At once made heaven and earth with darkness blind,
  And stirred up tempests, storms, and blustering wind.

  CXVI
  Heaven's glorious lamp, wrapped in an ugly veil
  Of shadows dark, was hid from mortal eye,
  And hell's grim blackness did bright skies assail;
  On every side the fiery lightnings fly,
  The thunders roar, the streaming rain and hail
  Pour down and make that sea which erst was dry.
  The tempests rend the oaks and cedars brake,
  And make not trees but rocks and mountains shake.

  CXVII
  The rain, the lightning, and the raging wind,
  Beat in the Frenchmen's eyes with hideous force,
  The soldiers stayed amazed in heart and mind,
  The terror such that stopped both man and horse.
  Surprised with this evil no way they find,
  Whither for succor to direct their course,
  But wise Clorinda soon the advantage spied,
  And spurring forth thus to her soldiers cried:

  CXVIII
  "You hardy men at arms behold," quoth she,
  "How Heaven, how Justice in our aid doth fight,
  Our visages are from this tempest free,
  Our hands at will may wield our weapons bright,
  The fury of this friendly storm you see
  Upon the foreheads of our foes doth light,
  And blinds their eyes, then let us take the tide,
  Come, follow me, good fortune be our guide."

  CXIX
  This said, against her foes on rode the dame,
  And turned their backs against the wind and rain;
  Upon the French with furious rage she came,
  And scorned those idle blows they struck in vain;
  Argantes at the instant did the same,
  And them who chased him now chased again,
  Naught but his fearful back each Christian shows
  Against the tempest, and against their blows.

  CXX
  The cruel hail, and deadly wounding blade,
  Upon their shoulders smote them as they fled,
  The blood new spilt while thus they slaughter made,
  The water fallen from skies had dyed red,
  Among the murdered bodies Pyrrhus laid,
  And valiant Raiphe his heart blood there out bled,
  The first subdued by strong Argantes' might,
  The second conquered by that virgin knight.

  CXXI
  Thus fled the French, and then pursued in chase
  The wicked sprites and all the Syrian train:
  But gainst their force and gainst their fell menace
  Of hail and wind, of tempest and of rain,
  Godfrey alone turned his audacious face,
  Blaming his barons for their fear so vain,
  Himself the camp gate boldly stood to keep,
  And saved his men within his trenches deep.

  CXXII
  And twice upon Argantes proud he flew,
  And beat him backward, maugre all his might,
  And twice his thirsty sword he did imbrue,
  In Pagan's blood where thickest was the fight;
  At last himself with all his folk withdrew,
  And that day's conquest gave the virgin bright,
  Which got, she home retired and all her men,
  And thus she chased this lion to his den.

  CXXIII
  Yet ceased not the fury and the ire
  Of these huge storms, of wind, of rain and hail,
  Now was it dark, now shone the lightning fire,
  The wind and water every place assail,
  No bank was safe, no rampire left entire,
  No tent could stand, when beam and cordage fail,
  Wind, thunder, rain, all gave a dreadful sound,
  And with that music deafed the trembling ground.

EIGHTH BOOK

  THE ARGUMENT.
  A messenger to Godfrey sage doth tell
  The Prince of Denmark's valour, death and end:
  The Italians, trusting signs untrue too well,
  Think their Rinaldo slain: the wicked fiend
  Breeds fury in their breasts, their bosoms swell
  With ire and hate, and war and strife forth send:
  They threaten Godfrey; he prays to the Lord,
  And calms their fury with his look and word.

  I
  Now were the skies of storms and tempests cleared,
  Lord Aeolus shut up his winds in hold,
  The silver-mantled morning fresh appeared,
  With roses crowned, and buskined high with gold;
  The spirits yet which had these tempests reared,
  Their malice would still more and more unfold;
  And one of them that Astragor was named,
  His speeches thus to foul Alecto framed.

  II
  "Alecto, see, we could not stop nor stay
  The knight that to our foes new tidings brings,
  Who from the hands escaped, with life away,
  Of that great prince, chief of all Pagan kings:
  He comes, the fall of his slain lord to say,
  Of death and loss he tells, and such sad things,
  Great news he brings, and greatest dangers is,
  Bertoldo's son shall be called home for this.

  III
  "Thou knowest what would befall, bestir thee than;
  Prevent with craft, what force could not withstand,
  Turn to their evil the speeches of the man,
  With his own weapon wound Godfredo's hand;
  Kindle debate, infect with poison wan
  The English, Switzer, and Italian band,
  Great tumult move, make brawls and quarrels rife,
  Set all the camp on uproar and at strife.

  IV
  "This act beseems thee well, and of the deed
  Much may'st thou boast before our lord and king."
  Thus said the sprite. Persuasion small did need,
  The monster grants to undertake the thing.
  Meanwhile the knight, whose coming thus they dread,
  Before the camp his weary limbs doth bring,
  And well-nigh breathless, "Warriors bold," he cried,
  "Who shall conduct me to your famous guide?"

  V
  An hundred strove the stranger's guide to be,
  To hearken news the knights by heaps assemble,
  The man fell lowly down upon his knee,
  And kissed the hand that made proud Babel tremble;
  "Right puissant lord, whose valiant acts," quoth he,
  "The sands and stars in number best resemble,
  Would God some gladder news I might unfold,"
  And there he paused, and sighed; then thus he told:

  VI
  "Sweno, the King of Denmark's only heir,
  The stay and staff of his declining eild,
  Longed to be among these squadrons fair
  Who for Christ's faith here serve with spear and shield;
  No weariness, no storms of sea or air,
  No such contents as crowns and sceptres yield,
  No dear entreaties of so kind a sire,
  Could in his bosom quench that glorious fire.

  VII
  "He thirsted sore to learn this warlike art
  Of thee, great lord and master of the same;
  And was ashamed in his noble heart,
  That never act he did deserved fame;
  Besides, the news and tidings from each part
  Of young Rinaldo's worth and praises came:
  But that which most his courage stirred hath,
  Is zeal, religion, godliness, and faith.

  VIII
  "He hasted forward, then without delay,
  And with him took of knights a chosen band,
  Directly toward Thrace we took the way,
  To Byzance old, chief fortress of that land,
  There the Greek monarch gently prayed him stay,
  And there an herald sent from you we fand,
  How Antioch was won, who first declared,
  And how defended nobly afterward.

  IX
  "Defended gainst Corbana, valiant knight,
  That all the Persian armies had to guide,
  And brought so many soldiers bold to fight,
  That void of men he left that kingdom wide;
  He told thine acts, thy wisdom and thy might,
  And told the deeds of many a lord beside,
  His speech at length to young Rinaldo passed,
  And told his great achievements, first and last:

  X
  "And how this noble camp of yours, of late
  Besieged had this town, and in what sort,
  And how you prayed him to participate
  Of the last conquest of this noble fort.
  In hardy Sweno opened was the gate
  Of worthy anger by this brave report,
  So that each hour seemed five years long,
  Till he were fighting with these Pagans strong.

  XI
  "And while the herald told your fights and frays,
  Himself of cowardice reproved he thought,
  And him to stay that counsels him, or prays,
  He hears not, or, else heard, regardeth naught,
  He fears no perils but whilst he delays,
  Lest this last work without his help be wrought:
  In this his doubt, in this his danger lies,
  No hazard else he fears, no peril spies.

  XII
  "Thus hasting on, he hasted on his death,
  Death that to him and us was fatal guide.
  The rising morn appeared yet aneath,
  When he and we were armed, and fit to ride,
  The nearest way seemed best, o'er hold and heath
  We went, through deserts waste, and forests wide,
  The streets and ways he openeth as he goes,
  And sets each land free from intruding foes.

  XIII
  "Now want of food, now dangerous ways we find,
  Now open war, now ambush closely laid;
  Yet passed we forth, all perils left behind,
  Our foes or dead or run away afraid,
  Of victory so happy blew the wind,
  That careless all the heedless to it made:
  Until one day his tents he happed to rear,
  To Palestine when we approached near.

  XIV
  "There did our scouts return and bring us news,
  That dreadful noise of horse and arms they hear,
  And that they deemed by sundry signs and shows
  There was some mighty host of Pagans near.
  At these sad tidings many changed their hues,
  Some looked pale for dread, some shook for fear,
  Only our noble lord was altered naught,
  In look, in face, in gesture, or in thought.

  XV
  "But said, 'A crown prepare you to possess
  Of martyrdom, or happy victory;
  For this I hope, for that I wish no less,
  Of greater merit and of greater glory.
  Brethren, this camp will shortly be, I guess,
  A temple, sacred to our memory,
  To which the holy men of future age,
  To view our graves shall come in pilgrimage.'

  XVI
  "This said, he set the watch in order right
  To guard the camp, along the trenches deep,
  And as he armed was, so every knight
  He willed on his back his arms to keep.
  Now had the stillness of the quiet night
  Drowned all the world in silence and in sleep,
  When suddenly we heard a dreadful sound,
  Which deafed the earth, and tremble made the ground.

  XVII
  "'Arm, arm,' they cried; Prince Sweno at the same,
  Glistering in shining steel leaped foremost out,
  His visage shone, his noble looks did flame,
  With kindled brand of courage bold and stout,
  When lo, the Pagans to assault us came,
  And with huge numbers hemmed us round about,
  A forest thick of spears about us grew,
  And over us a cloud of arrows flew:

  XVIII
  "Uneven the fight, unequal was the fray,
  Our enemies were twenty men to one,
  On every side the slain and wounded lay
  Unseen, where naught but glistering weapons shone:
  The number of the dead could no man say,
  So was the place with darkness overgone,
  The night her mantle black upon its spreads,
  Hiding our losses and our valiant deeds.

  XIX
  "But hardy Sweno midst the other train,
  By his great acts was well descried I wot,
  No darkness could his valor's daylight stain,
  Such wondrous blows on every side he smote;
  A stream of blood, a bank of bodies slain,
  About him made a bulwark of bodies slain,
  And when soe'er he turned his fatal brand,
  Dread in his looks and death sate in his hand.

  XX
  "Thus fought we till the morning bright appeared,
  And strewed roses on the azure sky,
  But when her lamp had night's thick darkness cleared,
  Wherein the bodies dead did buried lie,
  Then our sad cries to heaven for grief we reared,
  Our loss apparent was, for we descry
  How all our camp destroyed was almost,
  And all our people well-nigh slain and lost;

  XXI
  "Of thousands twain an hundred scant survived.
  When Sweno murdered saw each valiant knight,
  I know not if his heart in sunder rived
  For dear compassion of that woful sight;
  He showed no change, but said: 'Since so deprived
  We are of all our friends by chance of fight,
  Come follow them, the path to heaven their blood
  Marks out, now angels made, of martyrs good.'

  XXII
  "This said, and glad I think of death at hand,
  The signs of heavenly joy shone through his eyes,
  Of Saracens against a mighty band,
  With fearless heart and constant breast he flies;
  No steel could shield them from his cutting bran
  But whom he hits without recure he dies,
  He never struck but felled or killed his foe
  And wounded was himself from top to toe.

  XXIII
  "Not strength, but courage now, preserved on live
  This hardy champion, fortress of our faith,
  Strucken he strikes, still stronger more they strive,
  The more they hurt him, more he doth them scathe,
  When toward him a furious knight gan drive,
  Of members huge, fierce looks, and full of wrath,
  That with the aid of many a Pagan crew,
  After long fight, at last Prince Sweno slew.

  XXIV
  "Ah, heavy chance! Down fell the valiant youth,
  Nor mongst us all did one so strong appear
  As to revenge his death: that this is truth,
  By his dear blood and noble bones I swear,
  That of my life I had not care nor ruth,
  No wounds I shunned, no blows I would off bear,
  And had not Heaven my wished end denied,
  Even there I should, and willing should, have died.

  XXV
  "Alive I fell among my fellows slain,
  Yet wounded so that each one thought me dead,
  Nor what our foes did since can I explain,
  So sore amazed was my heart and head;
  But when I opened first mine eyes again,
  Night's curtain black upon the earth was spread,
  And through the darkness to my feeble sight,
  Appeared the twinkling of a slender light.

  XXVI
  "Not so much force or judgement in me lies
  As to discern things seen and not mistake,
  I saw like them who ope and shut their eyes
  By turns, now half asleep, now half awake;
  My body eke another torment tries,
  My wounds began to smart, my hurts to ache;
  For every sore each member pinched was
  With night's sharp air, heaven's frost and earth's cold grass.

  XXVII
  "But still the light approached near and near,
  And with the same a whispering murmur run,
  Till at my side arrived both they were,
  When I to spread my feeble eyes begun:
  Two men behold in vestures long appear,
  With each a lamp in hand, who said, 'O son
  In that dear Lord who helps his servants, trust,
  Who ere they ask, grants all things to the just.'

  XXVIII
  "This said, each one his sacred blessings flings
  Upon my corse, with broad our-stretched hand,
  And mumbled hymns and psalms and holy things,
  Which I could neither hear nor understand;
  'Arise,' quoth they, with that as I had wings,
  All whole and sound I leaped up from the land.
  Oh miracle, sweet, gentle, strange and true!
  My limbs new strength received, and vigor new.

  XXIX
  "I gazed on them like one whose heart denieth
  To think that done, he sees so strangely wrought;
  Till one said thus, 'O thou of little faith,
  What doubts perplex thy unbelieving thought?
  Each one of us a living body hath,
  We are Christ's chosen servants, fear us naught,
  Who to avoid the world's allurements vain,
  In wilful penance, hermits poor remain.

  XXX
  "'Us messengers to comfort thee elect
  That Lord hath sent that rules both heaven and hell;
  Who often doth his blessed will effect,
  By such weak means, as wonder is to tell;
  He will not that this body lie neglect,
  Wherein so noble soul did lately dwell
  To which again when it uprisen is
  It shall united be in lasting bliss.

  XXXI
  "'I say Lord Sweno's corpse, for which prepared
  A tomb there is according to his worth,
  By which his honor shall be far declared,
  And his just praises spread from south to north:"
  But lift thine eyes up to the heavens ward,
  Mark yonder light that like the sun shines forth
  That shall direct thee with those beams so clear,
  To find the body of thy master dear.'

  XXXII
  "With that I saw from Cynthia's silver face,
  Like to a falling star a beam down slide,
  That bright as golden line marked out the place,
  And lightened with clear streams the forest wide;
  So Latmos shone when Phoebe left the chase,
  And laid her down by her Endymion's side,
  Such was the light that well discern I could,
  His shape, his wounds, his face, though dead, yet bold.

  XXXIII
  "He lay not grovelling now, but as a knight
  That ever had to heavenly things desire,
  So toward heaven the prince lay bolt upright,
  Like him that upward still sought to aspire,
  His right hand closed held his weapon bright,
  Ready to strike and execute his ire,
  His left upon his breast was humbly laid,
  That men might know, that while he died he prayed.

  XXXIV
  "Whilst on his wounds with bootless tears I wept,
  That neither helped him, nor eased my care,
  One of those aged fathers to him stepped,
  And forced his hand that needless weapon spare:
  'This sword,' quoth he, 'hath yet good token kept,
  That of the Pagans' blood he drunk his share,
  And blusheth still he could not save his lord,
  Rich, strong and sharp, was never better sword.

  XXXV
  "'Heaven, therefore, will not, though the prince be slain,
  Who used erst to wield this precious brand
  That so brave blade unused should remain;
  But that it pass from strong to stronger hand,
  Who with like force can wield the same again,
  And longer shall in grace of fortune stand,
  And with the same shall bitter vengeance take
  On him that Sweno slew, for Sweno's sake.

  XXXVI
  "'Great Solyman killed Sweno, Solyman
  For Sweno's sake, upon this sword must die.
  Here, take the blade, and with it haste thee than
  Thither where Godfrey doth encamped lie,
  And fear not thou that any shall or can
  Or stop thy way, or lead thy steps awry;
  For He that doth thee on this message send,
  Thee with His hand shall guide, keep and defend.

  XXXVII
  "'Arrived there it is His blessed will,
  With true report that thou declare and tell
  The zeal, the strength, the courage and the skill
  In thy beloved lord that late did dwell,
  How for Christ's sake he came his blood to spill,
  And sample left to all of doing well,
  That future ages may admire his deed,
  And courage take when his brave end they read.

  XXXVIII
  "'It resteth now, thou know that gentle knight
  That of this sword shall be thy master's heir,
  It is Rinaldo young, with whom in might
  And martial skill no champion may compare,
  Give it to him and say, "The Heavens bright
  Of this revenge to him commit the care."
  While thus I listened what this old man said,
  A wonder new from further speech us stayed;

  XXXIX
  "For there whereas the wounded body lay,
  A stately tomb with curious work, behold,
  And wondrous art was built out of the clay,
  Which, rising round, the carcass did enfold;
  With words engraven in the marble gray,
  The warrior's name, his worth and praise that told,
  On which I gazing stood, and often read
  That epitaph of my dear master dead.

  XL
  "'Among his soldiers,' quoth the hermit, 'here
  Must Sweno's corpse remain in marble chest,
  While up to heaven are flown their spirits dear,
  To live in endless joy forever blest,
  His funeral thou hast with many a tear
  Accompanied, it's now high time to rest,
  Come be my guest, until the morning ray
  Shall light the world again, then take thy way.'

  XLI
  "This said, he led me over holts and hags,
  Through thorns and bushes scant my legs I drew
  Till underneath a heap of stones and crags
  At last he brought me to a secret mew;
  Among the bears, wild boars, the wolves and stags,
  There dwelt he safe with his disciple true,
  And feared no treason, force, nor hurt at all,
  His guiltless conscience was his castle's wall.

  XLII
  "My supper roots; my bed was moss and leaves;
  But weariness in little rest found ease:
  But when the purple morning night bereaves
  Of late usurped rule on lands and seas,
  His loathed couch each wakeful hermit leaves,
  To pray rose they, and I, for so they please,
  I congee took when ended was the same,
  And hitherward, as they advised me, came."

  XLIII
  The Dane his woful tale had done, when thus
  The good Prince Godfrey answered him, "Sir knight,
  Thou bringest tidings sad and dolorous,
  For which our heavy camp laments of right,
  Since so brave troops and so dear friends to us,
  One hour hath spent, in one unlucky fight;
  And so appeared hath thy master stout,
  As lightning doth, now kindled, now quenched out.

  XLIV
  "But such a death and end exceedeth all
  The conquests vain of realms, or spoils of gold,
  Nor aged Rome's proud stately capital,
  Did ever triumph yet like theirs behold;
  They sit in heaven on thrones celestial,
  Crowned with glory, for their conquest bold,
  Where each his hurts I think to other shows,
  And glory in those bloody wounds and blows.

  XLV
  "But thou who hast part of thy race to run,
  With haps and hazards of this world ytost,
  rejoice, for those high honors they have won,
  Which cannot be by chance or fortune crossed:
  But for thou askest for Bertoldo's son,
  Know, that he wandereth, banished from this host,
  And till of him new tidings some man tell,
  Within this camp I deem it best thou dwell."

  XLVI
  These words of theirs in many a soul renewed
  The sweet remembrance of fair Sophia's child,
  Some with salt tears for him their cheeks bedewed,
  Lest evil betide him mongst the Pagans wild,
  And every one his valiant prowess showed,
  And of his battles stories long compiled,
  Telling the Dane his acts and conquests past,
  Which made his ears amazed, his heart aghast.

  XLVII
  Now when remembrance of the youth had wrought
  A tender pity in each softened mind,
  Behold returned home with all they caught
  The bands that were to forage late assigned,
  And with them in abundance great they brought
  Both flocks and herds of every sort and kind.
  And corn, although not much, and hay to feed
  Their noble steeds and coursers when they need.

  XLVIII
  They also brought of misadventure sad
  Tokens and signs, seemed too apparent true,
  Rinaldo's armor, frushed and hacked they had,
  Oft pierced through, with blood besmeared new;
  About the camp, for always rumors bad
  Are farthest spread, these woful tidings flew.
  Longing to see what they were loth to know.

  XLIX
  His heavy hauberk was both seen and known,
  And his brand shield, wherein displayed flies
  The bird that proves her chickens for their own
  By looking against the sun with open eyes;
  That shield was to the Pagans often shown,
  In many a hard and hardy enterprise,
  But now with many a gash and many a stroke
  They see, and sigh to see it, frushed and broke.

  L
  While all his soldiers whispered under hand,
  And here and there the fault and cause do lay,
  Godfrey before him called Aliprand
  Captain of those that brought of late this prey,
  A man who did on points of virtue stand,
  Blameless in words, and true whate'er he say,
  "Say," quoth the duke, "where you this armor had,
  Hide not the truth, but tell it good or bad."

  LI
  He answered him, "As far from hence think I
  As on two days a speedy post well rideth,
  To Gaza-ward a little plain doth lie,
  Itself among the steepy hills which hideth,
  Through it slow falling from the mountains high,
  A rolling brook twixt bush and bramble glideth,
  Clad with thick shade of boughs of broad-leaved treen,
  Fit place for men to lie in wait unseen.

  LII
  "Thither, to seek some flocks or herds, we went
  Perchance close hid under the green-wood shaw,
  And found the springing grass with blood besprent,
  A warrior tumbled in his blood we saw,
  His arms though dusty, bloody, hacked and rent,
  Yet well we knew, when near the corse we draw;
  To which, to view his face, in vain I started,
  For from his body his fair head was parted;

  LIII
  "His right hand wanted eke, with many a wound
  The trunk through pierced was from back to breast,
  A little by, his empty helm we found
  The silver eagle shining on his crest;
  To spy at whom to ask we gazed round,
  A child then toward us his steps addressed,
  But when us armed by the corse he spied,
  He ran away his fearful face to hide:

  LIV
  "But we pursued him, took him, spake him fair,
  Till comforted at last he answer made,
  How that, the day before, he saw repair
  A band of soldiers from that forest shade,
  Of whom one carried by the golden hair
  A head but late cut off with murdering blade,
  The face was fair and young, and on the chin
  No sign of heard to bud did yet begin.

  LV
  "And how in sindal wrapt away he bore
  That head with him hung at his saddle-bow.
  And how the murtherers by the arms they wore,
  For soldiers of our camp he well did know;
  The carcass I disarmed and weeping sore,
  Because I guessed who should that harness owe,
  Away I brought it, but first order gave,
  That noble body should be laid in grave.

  LVI
  "But if it be his trunk whom I believe,
  A nobler tomb his worth deserveth well."
  This said, good Aliprando took his leave,
  Of certain troth he had no more to tell,
  Sore sighed the duke, so did these news him grieve,
  Fears in his heart, doubts in his bosom dwell,
  He yearned to know, to find and learns the truth,
  And punish would them that had slain the youth.

  LVII
  But now the night dispread her lazy wings
  O'er the broad fields of heaven's bright wilderness,
  Sleep, the soul's rest, and ease of careful things,
  Buried in happy peace both more and less,
  Thou Argillan alone, whom sorrow stings,
  Still wakest, musing on great deeds I guess,
  Nor sufferest in thy watchful eyes to creep
  The sweet repose of mild and gentle sleep.

  LVIII
  This man was strong of limb, and all his 'says
  Were bold, of ready tongue, and working sprite,
  Near Trento born, bred up in brawls and frays,
  In jars, in quarrels, and in civil fight,
  Which exiled, the hills and public ways
  He filled with blood, and robberies day and night
  Until to Asia's wars at last he came,
  And boldly there he served, and purchased fame.

  LIX
  He closed his eyes at last when day drew near.
  Yet slept he not, but senseless lay opprest
  With strange amazedness and sudden fear
  Which false Alecto breathed in his breast,
  His working powers within deluded were,
  Stone still he quiet lay, yet took no rest,
  For to his thought the fiend herself presented,
  And with strange visions his weak brain tormented.

  LX
  A murdered body huge beside him stood,
  Of head and right hand both but lately spoiled,
  His left hand bore the head, whose visage good,
  Both pale and wan, with dust and gore defoiled,
  Yet spake, though dead, with whose sad words the blood
  Forth at his lips in huge abundance boiled,
  "Fly, Argillan, from this false camp fly far,
  Whose guide, a traitor; captains, murderers are.

  LXI
  "Godfrey hath murdered me by treason vile,
  What favor then hope you my trusty friends?
  His villain heart is full of fraud and guile,
  To your destruction all his thoughts he bends,
  Yet if thou thirst of praise for noble stile,
  If in thy strength thou trust, thy strength that ends
  All hard assays, fly not, first with his blood
  Appease my ghost wandering by Lethe flood;

  LXII
  "I will thy weapon whet, inflame thine ire,
  Arm thy right hand, and strengthen every part."
  This said; even while she spake she did inspire
  With fury, rage, and wrath his troubled heart:
  The man awaked, and from his eyes like fire
  The poisoned sparks of headstrong madness start,
  And armed as he was, forth is he gone,
  And gathered all the Italian bands in one.

  LXIII
  He gathered them where lay the arms that late
  Were good Rinaldo's; then with semblance stout
  And furious words his fore-conceived hate
  In bitter speeches thus he vomits out;
  "Is not this people barbarous and ingrate,
  In whom truth finds no place, faith takes no rout?
  Whose thirst unquenched is of blood and gold,
  Whom no yoke boweth, bridle none can hold.

  LXIV
  "So much we suffered have these seven years long,
  Under this servile and unworthy yoke,
  That thorough Rome and Italy our wrong
  A thousand years hereafter shall be spoke:
  I count not how Cilicia's kingdom strong,
  Subdued was by Prince Tancredi's stroke,
  Nor how false Baldwin him that land bereaves
  Of virtue's harvest, fraud there reaped the sheaves:

  LXV
  "Nor speak I how each hour, at every need,
  Quick, ready, resolute at all assays,
  With fire and sword we hasted forth with speed,
  And bore the brunt of all their fights and frays;
  But when we had performed and done the deed,
  At ease and leisure they divide the preys,
  We reaped naught but travel for our toil,
  Theirs was the praise, the realms, the gold, the spoil.

  LXVI
  "Yet all this season were we willing blind,
  Offended unrevenged, wronged but unwroken,
  Light griefs could not provoke our quiet mind,
  But now, alas! the mortal blow is stroken,
  Rinaldo have they slain, and law of kind,
  Of arms, of nations, and of high heaven broken,
  Why doth not heaven kill them with fire and thunder?
  To swallow them why cleaves not earth asunder?

  LXVII
  "They have Rinaldo slain, the sword and shield
  Of Christ's true faith, and unrevenged he lies;
  Still unrevenged lieth in the field
  His noble corpse to feed the crows and pies:
  Who murdered him? who shall us certain yield?
  Who sees not that, although he wanted eyes?
  Who knows not how the Italian chivalry
  Proud Godfrey and false Baldwin both envy

  LXVIII
  "What need we further proof? Heaven, heaven, I swear,
  Will not consent herein we be beguiled,
  This night I saw his murdered sprite appear,
  Pale, sad and wan, with wounds and blood defiled,
  A spectacle full both of grief and fear;
  Godfrey, for murdering him, the ghost reviled.
  I saw it was no dream, before mine eyes,
  Howe'er I look, still, still methinks it flies.

  LXIX
  "What shall we do? shall we be governed still
  By this false hand, contaminate with blood?
  Or else depart and travel forth, until
  To Euphrates we come, that sacred flood,
  Where dwells a people void of martial skill,
  Whose cities rich, whose land is fat and good,
  Where kingdoms great we may at ease provide,
  Far from these Frenchmen's malice, from their pride;

  LXX
  "Then let us go, and no revengement take
  For this brave knight, though it lie in our power:
  No, no, that courage rather newly wake,
  Which never sleeps in fear and dread one hour,
  And this pestiferous serpent, poisoned snake,
  Of all our knights that hath destroyed the flower,
  First let us slay, and his deserved end
  Example make to him that kills his friend.

  LXXI
  "I will, I will, if your courageous force,
  Dareth so much as it can well perform,
  Tear out his cursed heart without remorse,
  The nest of treason false and guile enorm."
  Thus spake the angry knight with headlong course;
  The rest him followed with a furious storm,
  "Arm, arm." they cried, to arms the soldiers ran.
  And as they run, "Arm, arm," cried every man.

  LXXII
  Mongst them Alecto strowed wasteful fire,
  Envenoming the hearts of most and least,
  Folly, disdain, madness, strife, rancor, ire,
  Thirst to shed blood, in every breast increased,
  This ill spread far, and till it set on fire
  With rage the Italian lodgings, never ceased,
  From thence unto the Switzers' camp it went,
  And last infected every English tent.

  LXXIII
  Not public loss of their beloved knight,
  Alone stirred up their rage and wrath untamed,
  But fore-conceived griefs, and quarrels light,
  The ire still nourished, and still inflamed,
  Awaked was each former cause of spite,
  The Frenchmen cruel and unjust they named,
  And with bold threats they made their hatred known,
  Hate seld kept close, and oft unwisely shown:

  LXXIV
  Like boiling liquor in a seething pot,
  That fumeth, swelleth high, and bubbleth fast,
  Till o'er the brims among the embers hot,
  Part of the broth and of the scum is cast,
  Their rage and wrath those few appeased not
  In whom of wisdom yet remained some taste,
  Camillo, William, Tancred were away,
  And all whose greatness might their madness stay.

  LXXV
  Now headlong ran to harness in this heat
  These furious people, all on heaps confused,
  The roaring trumpets battle gan to threat,
  As it in time of mortal war is used,
  The messengers ran to Godfredo great,
  And bade him arm, while on this noise he mused,
  And Baldwin first well clad in iron hard,
  Stepped to his side, a sure and faithful guard.

  LXXVI
  Their murmurs heard, to heaven he lift his een,
  As was his wont, to God for aid he fled;
  "O Lord, thou knowest this right hand of mine
  Abhorred ever civil blood to shed,
  Illumine their dark souls with light divine,
  Repress their rage, by hellish fury bred,
  The innocency of my guiltless mind
  Thou knowest, and make these know, with fury blind."

  LXXVII
  Tis said he felt infused in each vein,
  A sacred heat from heaven above distilled,
  A heat in man that courage could constrain
  That his brave look with awful boldness filled.
  Well guarded forth he went to meet the train
  Of those that would revenge Rinaldo killed;
  And though their threats he heard, and saw them bent
  To arms on every side, yet on he went.

  LXXVIII
  Above his hauberk strong a coat he ware,
  Embroidered fair with pearl and rich stone,
  His hands were naked, and his face was bare,
  Wherein a lamp of majesty bright shone;
  He shook his golden mace, wherewith he dare
  Resist the force of his rebellious foe:
  Thus he appeared, and thus he gan them teach,
  In shape an angel, and a God in speech:

  LXXIX
  "What foolish words? what threats be these I hear?
  What noise of arms? who dares these tumults move?
  Am I so honored? stand you so in fear?
  Where is your late obedience? where your love?
  Of Godfrey's falsehood who can witness bear?
  Who dare or will these accusations prove?
  Perchance you look I should entreaties bring,
  Sue for your favors, or excuse the thing.

  LXXX
  "Ah, God forbid these lands should hear or see
  Him so disgraced at whose great name they quake;
  This sceptre and my noble acts for me
  A true defence before the world can make:
  Yet for sharp justice governed shall be
  With clemency, I will no vengeance take
  For this offence, but for Rinaldo's love,
  I pardon you, hereafter wiser prove.

  LXXXI
  "But Argillano's guilty blood shall wash
  This stain away, who kindled this debate,
  And led by hasty rage and fury rash,
  To these disorders first undid the gate;"
  While thus he spoke, the lightning beams did flash
  Out of his eyes of majesty and state,
  That Argillan, — who would have thought it? — shook
  For fear and terror, conquered with his look.

  LXXXII
  The rest with indiscreet and foolish wrath
  Who threatened late with words of shame and pride,
  Whose hands so ready were to harm and scath,
  And brandished bright swords on every side;
  Now hushed and still attend what Godfrey saith,
  With shame and fear their bashful looks they hide,
  And Argillan they let in chains be bound,
  Although their weapons him environed round.

  LXXXIII
  So when a lion shakes his dreadful mane,
  And beats his tail with courage proud and wroth,
  If his commander come, who first took pain
  To tame his youth, his lofty crest down goeth,
  His threats he feareth, and obeys the rein
  Of thralldom base, and serviceage, though loth,
  Nor can his sharp teeth nor his armed paws,
  Force him rebel against his ruler's laws.

  LXXXIV
  Fame as a winged warrior they beheld,
  With semblant fierce and furious look that stood,
  And in his left hand had a splendent shield
  Wherewith he covered safe their chieftain good,
  His other hand a naked sword did wield,
  From which distilling fell the lukewarm blood,
  The blood pardie of many a realm and town,
  Whereon the Lord his wrath had poured down.

  LXXXV
  Thus was the tumult, without bloodshed, ended.
  Their arms laid down, strife into exile sent.
  Godfrey his thoughts to greater actions bended.
  And homeward to his rich pavilion went,
  For to assault the fortress he intended
  Before the second or third day were spent;
  Meanwhile his timber wrought he oft surveyed
  Whereof his ram and engines great he made.

NINTH BOOK

  THE ARGUMENT.
  Alecto false great Solyman doth move
  By night the Christians in their tents to kill:
  But God who their intents saw from above,
  Sends Michael down from his sacred hill:
  The spirits foul to hell the angels drove;
  The knights delivered from the witch, at will
  Destroy the Pagans, scatter all their host:
  The Soldan flies when all his bands are lost.

  I
  The grisly child of Erebus the grim,
  Who saw these tumults done and tempest spent,
  Gainst stream of grace who ever strove to swim
  And all her thoughts against Heaven's wisdom bent,
  Departed now, bright Titan's beams were dim
  And fruitful lands waxed barren as she went.
  She sought the rest of her infernal crew,
  New storms to raise, new broils, and tumults new.

  II
  She, that well wist her sisters had enticed,
  By their false arts, far from the Christian host,
  Tancred, Rinaldo, and the rest, best prized
  For martial skill, for might esteemed most,
  Said, of these discords and these strifes advised,
  "Great Solyman, when day his light hath lost,
  These Christians shall assail with sudden war,
  And kill them all while thus they strive and jar."

  III
  With that where Solyman remained she flew,
  And found him out with his Arabian bands,
  Great Solyman, of all Christ's foes untrue,
  Boldest of courage, mightiest of his hands,
  Like him was none of all that earth-bred crew
  That heaped mountains on the Aemonian sands,
  Of Turks he sovereign was, and Nice his seat,
  Where late he dwelt, and ruled that kingdom great.

  IV
  The lands forenenst the Greekish shore he held,
  From Sangar's mouth to crooked Meander's fall,
  Where they of Phrygia, Mysia, Lydia dwelled,
  Bithynia's towns, and Pontus' cities all:
  But when the hearts of Christian princes swelled,
  And rose in arms to make proud Asia thrall,
  Those lands were won where he did sceptre wield
  And he twice beaten was in pitched field.

  V
  When Fortune oft he had in vain assayed,
  And spent his forces, which availed him naught,
  To Egypt's king himself he close conveyed,
  Who welcomed him as he could best have thought,
  Glad in his heart, and inly well apayed,
  That to his court so great a lord was brought:
  For he decreed his armies huge to bring
  To succor Juda land and Juda's king.

  VI
  But, ere he open war proclaimed, he would
  That Solyman should kindle first the fire,
  And with huge sums of false enticing gold
  The Arabian thieves he sent him forth to hire,
  While he the Asian lords and Morians hold
  Unites; the Soldan won to his desire
  Those outlaws, ready aye for gold to fight,
  The hope of gain hath such alluring might.

  VII
  Thus made their captain to destroy and burn,
  In Juda land he entered is so far,
  That all the ways whereby he should return
  By Godfrey's people kept and stopped are,
  And now he gan his former losses mourn,
  This wound had hit him on an elder scar,
  On great adventures ran his hardy thought,
  But naught assured, he yet resolved on naught.

  VIII
  To him Alecto came, and semblant bore
  Of one whose age was great, whose looks were grave,
  Whose cheeks were bloodless, and whose locks were hoar
  Mustaches strouting long and chin close shave,
  A steepled turban on her head she wore,
  Her garment wide, and by her side, her glaive,
  Her gilden quiver at her shoulders hung,
  And in her hand a bow was, stiff and strong.

  IX
  "We have." Quoth she,."through wildernesses gone,
  Through sterile sands, strange paths, and uncouth ways,
  Yet spoil or booty have we gotten none,
  Nor victory deserving fame or praise,
  Godfrey meanwhile to ruin stick and stone
  Of this fair town, with battery sore assays;
  And if awhile we rest, we shall behold
  This glorious city smoking lie in mould.

  X
  "Are sheep-cotes burnt, or preys of sheep or kine,
  The cause why Solyman these bands did arm?
  Canst thou that kingdom lately lost of thine
  Recover thus, or thus redress thy harm?
  No, no, when heaven's small candles next shall shine,
  Within their tents give them a bold alarm;
  Believe Araspes old, whose grave advice
  Thou hast in exile proved, and proved in Nice.

  XI
  "He feareth naught, he doubts no sudden broil
  From these ill-armed and worse-hearted bands,
  He thinks this people, used to rob and spoil,
  To such exploit dares not lift up their hands;
  Up then and with thy courage put to foil
  This fearless camp, while thus secure it stands."
  This said, her poison in his breast she hides,
  And then to shapeless air unseen she glides.

  XII
  The Soldan cried, "O thou which in my thought
  Increased hast my rage and fury so,
  Nor seem'st a wight of mortal metal wrought,
  I follow thee, whereso thee list to go,
  Mountains of men by dint of sword down brought
  Thou shalt behold, and seas of red blood flow
  Where'er I go; only be thou my guide
  When sable night the azure skies shall hide."

  XIII
  When this was said, he mustered all his crew,
  Reproved the cowards, and allowed the bold:
  His forward camp, inspired with courage new,
  Was ready dight to follow where he would:
  Alecto's self the warning trumpet blew
  And to the wind his standard great unrolled,
  Thus on they marched, and thus on they went,
  Of their approach their speed the news prevent.

  XIV
  Alecto left them, and her person dight
  Like one that came some tidings new to tell:
  It was the time, when first the rising night
  Her sparkling diamonds poureth forth to sell,
  When, into Sion come, she marched right
  Where Juda's aged tyrant used to dwell,
  To whom of Solyman's designment bold,
  The place, the manner, and the time she told.

  XV
  Their mantle dark, the grisly shadows spread,
  Stained with spots of deepest sanguine hue,
  Warm drops of blood, on earth's black visage shed,
  Supplied the place of pure and precious dew,
  The moon and stars for fear of sprites were fled,
  The shrieking goblins eachwhere howling flew,
  The furies roar, the ghosts and fairies yell,
  The earth was filled with devils, and empty hell.

  XVI
  The Soldan fierce, through all this horror, went
  Toward the camp of his redoubted foes,
  The night was more than half consumed and spent;
  Now headlong down the western hill she goes,
  When distant scant a mile from Godfrey's tent
  He let his people there awhile repose,
  And victualled them, and then he boldly spoke
  These words which rage and courage might provoke:

  XVII
  "See there a camp, full stuffed of spoils and preys,
  Not half so strong as false report recordeth;
  See there the storehouse, where their captain lays
  Our treasures stolen, where Asia's wealth he hoardeth;
  Now chance the ball unto our racket plays,
  Take then the vantage which good luck affordeth;
  For all their arms, their horses, gold and treasure
  Are ours, ours without loss, harm or displeasure.

  XVIII
  "Nor is this camp that great victorious host
  That slew the Persian lords, and Nice hath won:
  For those in this long war are spent and lost,
  These are the dregs, the wine is all outrun,
  And these few left, are drowned and dead almost
  In heavy sleep, the labor half is done
  To send them headlong to Avernus deep,
  For little differs death and heavy sleep.

  XIX
  "Come, come, this sword the passage open shall
  Into their camp, and on their bodies slain
  We will pass o'er their rampire and their wall;
  This blade, as scythes cut down the fields of grain,
  Shall cut them so, Christ's kingdom now shall fall,
  Asia her freedom, you shall praise obtain."
  Thus he inflamed his soldiers to the fight,
  And led them on through silence of the night.

  XX
  The sentinel by starlight, lo, descried
  This mighty Soldan and his host draw near,
  Who found not as he hoped the Christians' guide
  Unware, ne yet unready was his gear:
  The scouts, when this huge army they descried,
  Ran back, and gan with shouts the 'larum rear;
  The watch stert up and drew their weapons bright,
  And busked them bold to battle and to fight.

  XXI
  The Arabians wist they could not come unseen,
  And therefore loud their jarring trumpets sound,
  Their yelling cries to heaven upheaved been,
  The horses thundered on the solid ground,
  The mountains roared, and the valley green,
  The echoes sighed from the caves around,
  Alecto with her brand, kindled in hell,
  Tokened to them in David's tower that dwell.

  XXII
  Before the rest forth pricked the Soldan fast,
  Against the watch, not yet in order just,
  As swift as hideous Boreas' hasty blast
  From hollow rocks when first his storms outburst,
  The raging floods, that trees and rocks down cast,
  Thunders, that towns and towers drive to dust:
  Earthquakes, to tear the world in twain that threat,
  Are naught, compared to his fury great.

  XXIII
  He struck no blow, but that his foe he hit;
  And never hit, but made a grievous wound:
  And never wounded, but death followed it;
  And yet no peril, hurt or harm he found,
  No weapon on his hardened helmet bit,
  No puissant stroke his senses once astound,
  Yet like a bell his tinkling helmet rung,
  And thence flew flames of fire and sparks among.

  XXIV
  Himself well nigh had put the watch to flight,
  A jolly troop of Frenchmen strong and stout,
  When his Arabians came by heaps to fight,
  Covering, like raging floods, the fields about;
  The beaten Christians run away full light,
  The Pagans, mingled with the flying rout,
  Entered their camp, and filled, as they stood,
  Their tents with ruin, slaughter, death and blood.

  XXV
  High on the Soldan's helm enamelled laid
  An hideous dragon, armed with many a scale,
  With iron paws, and leathern wings displayed,
  Which twisted on a knot her forked tail,
  With triple tongue it seemed she hissed and brayed,
  About her jaws the froth and venom trail,
  And as he stirred, and as his foes him hit,
  So flames to cast and fire she seemed to spit.

  XXVI
  With this strange light, the Soldan fierce appeared
  Dreadful to those that round about him been,
  As to poor sailors, when huge storms are reared,
  With lightning flash the rafting seas are seen;
  Some fled away, because his strength they feared,
  Some bolder gainst him bent their weapons keen,
  And forward night, in evils and mischiefs pleased,
  Their dangers hid, and dangers still increased.

  XXVII
  Among the rest that strove to merit praise,
  Was old Latinus, born by Tiber's bank,
  To whose stout heart in fights and bloody frays,
  For all his eild, base fear yet never sank;
  Five sons he had, the comforts of his days,
  That from his side in no adventure shrank,
  But long before their time, in iron strong
  They clad their members, tender, soft and young.

  XXVIII
  The bold ensample of their father's might
  Their weapons whetted and their wrath increased,
  "Come let us go," quoth he, "where yonder knight
  Upon our soldiers makes his bloody feast,
  Let not their slaughter once your hearts affright,
  Where danger most appears, there fear it least,
  For honor dwells in hard attempts, my sons,
  And greatest praise, in greatest peril, wons."

  XXIX
  Her tender brood the forest's savage queen,
  Ere on their crests their rugged manes appear,
  Before their mouths by nature armed been,
  Or paws have strength a silly lamb to tear,
  So leadeth forth to prey, and makes them keen,
  And learns by her ensample naught to fear
  The hunter, in those desert woods that takes
  The lesser beasts whereon his feast he makes.

  XXX
  The noble father and his hardy crew
  Fierce Solyman on every side invade,
  At once all six upon the Soldan flew,
  With lances sharp, and strong encounters made,
  His broken spear the eldest boy down threw,
  And boldly, over-boldly, drew his blade,
  Wherewith he strove, but strove therewith in vain,
  The Pagan's steed, unmarked, to have slain.

  XXXI
  But as a mountain or a cape of land
  Assailed with storms and seas on every side,
  Doth unremoved, steadfast, still withstand
  Storm, thunder, lightning, tempest, wind, and tide:
  The Soldan so withstood Latinus' band,
  And unremoved did all their justs abide,
  And of that hapless youth, who hurt his steed,
  Down to the chin he cleft in twain the head.

  XXXII
  Kind Aramante, who saw his brother slain,
  To hold him up stretched forth his friendly arm,
  Oh foolish kindness, and oh pity vain,
  To add our proper loss, to other's harm!
  The prince let fall his sword, and cut in twain
  About his brother twined, the child's weak arm.
  Down from their saddles both together slide,
  Together mourned they, and together died.

  XXXIII
  That done, Sabino's lance with nimble force
  He cut in twain, and 'gainst the stripling bold
  He spurred his steed, that underneath his horse
  The hardy infant tumbled on the mould,
  Whose soul, out squeezed from his bruised corpse,
  With ugly painfulness forsook her hold,
  And deeply mourned that of so sweet a cage
  She left the bliss, and joys of youthful age.

  XXXIV
  But Picus yet and Lawrence were on live,
  Whom at one birth their mother fair brought out,
  A pair whose likeness made the parents strive
  Oft which was which, and joyed in their doubt:
  But what their birth did undistinguished give,
  The Soldan's rage made known, for Picus stout
  Headless at one huge blow he laid in dust,
  And through the breast his gentle brother thrust.

  XXXV
  Their father, but no father now, alas!
  When all his noble sons at once were slain,
  In their five deaths so often murdered was,
  I know not how his life could him sustain,
  Except his heart were forged of steel or brass,
  Yet still he lived, pardie, he saw not plain
  Their dying looks, although their deaths he knows,
  It is some ease not to behold our woes.

  XXXVI
  He wept not, for the night her curtain spread
  Between his cause of weeping and his eyes,
  But still he mourned and on sharp vengeance fed,
  And thinks he conquers, if revenged he dies;
  He thirsts the Soldan's heathenish blood to shed,
  And yet his own at less than naught doth prize,
  Nor can he tell whether he liefer would,
  Or die himself, or kill the Pagan bold.

  XXXVII
  At last, "Is this right hand," quoth he, "so weak,
  That thou disdain'st gainst me to use thy might?
  Can it naught do? can this tongue nothing speak
  That may provoke thine ire, thy wrath and spite?"
  With that he struck, his anger great to wreak,
  A blow, that pierced the mail and metal bright,
  And in his flank set ope a floodgate wide,
  Whereat the blood out streamed from his side.

  XXXVIII
  Provoked with his cry, and with that blow,
  The Turk upon him gan his blade discharge,
  He cleft his breastplate, having first pierced through,
  Lined with seven bulls' hides, his mighty targe,
  And sheathed his weapons in his guts below;
  Wretched Latinus at that issue large,
  And at his mouth, poured out his vital blood,
  And sprinkled with the same his murdered brood.

  XXXIX
  On Apennine like as a sturdy tree,
  Against the winds that makes resistance stout,
  If with a storm it overturned be,
  Falls down and breaks the trees and plants about;
  So Latine fell, and with him felled he
  And slew the nearest of the Pagans' rout,
  A worthy end, fit for a man of fame,
  That dying, slew; and conquered, overcame.

  XL
  Meanwhile the Soldan strove his rage
  To satisfy with blood of Christian spilled,
  The Arabians heartened by their captain stern,
  With murder every tent and cabin filled,
  Henry the English knight, and Olipherne,
  O fierce Draguto, by thy hands were killed!
  Gilbert and Philip were by Ariadene
  Both slain, both born upon the banks of Rhone.

  XLI
  Albazar with his mace Ernesto slew,
  Under Algazel Engerlan down fell,
  But the huge murder of the meaner crew,
  Or manner of their deaths, what tongue can tell?
  Godfrey, when first the heathen trumpets blew,
  Awaked, which heard, no fear could make him dwell,
  But he and his were up and armed ere long,
  And marched forward with a squadron strong.

  XLII
  He that well heard the rumor and the cry,
  And marked the tumult still grow more and more,
  The Arabian thieves he judged by and by
  Against his soldiers made this battle sore;
  For that they forayed all the countries nigh,
  And spoiled the fields, the duke knew well before,
  Yet thought he not they had the hardiment
  So to assail him in his armed tent.

  XLIII
  All suddenly he heard, while on he went,
  How to the city-ward, "Arm, arm!" they cried,
  The noise upreared to the firmament,
  With dreadful howling filled the valleys wlde:
  This was Clorinda, whom the king forth sent
  To battle, and Argantes by her side.
  The duke, this heard, to Guelpho turned, and prayed
  Him his lieutenant be, and to him said:

  XLIV
  "You hear this new alarm from yonder part,
  That from the town breaks out with so much rage,
  Us needeth much your valor and your art
  To calm their fury, and their heat to 'suage;
  Go thither then, and with you take some part
  Of these brave soldiers of mine equipage,
  While with the residue of my champions bold
  I drive these wolves again out of our fold."

  XLV
  They parted, this agreed on them between,
  By divers paths, Lord Guelpho to the hill,
  And Godfrey hasted where the Arabians keen
  His men like silly sheep destroy and kill;
  But as he went his troops increased been,
  From every part the people flocked still,
  That now grown strong enough, he 'proached nigh
  Where the fierce Turk caused many a Christian die.

  XLVI
  So from the top of Vesulus the cold,
  Down to the sandy valleys, tumbleth Po,
  Whose streams the further from the fountain rolled
  Still stronger wax, and with more puissance go;
  And horned like a bull his forehead bold
  He lifts, and o'er his broken banks doth flow,
  And with his horns to pierce the sea assays,
  To which he proffereth war, not tribute pays.

  XLVII
  The duke his men fast flying did espy,
  And thither ran, and thus, displeased, spake,
  "What fear is this? Oh, whither do you fly?
  See who they be that this pursuit do make,
  A heartless band, that dare no battle try,
  Who wounds before dare neither give nor take,
  Against them turn your stern eye's threatening sight,
  An angry look will put them all to flight."

  XLVIII
  This said, he spurred forth where Solyman
  Destroyed Christ's vineyard like a savage boar,
  Through streams of blood, through dust and dirt he ran,
  O'er heaps of bodies wallowing in their gore,
  The squadrons close his sword to ope began,
  He broke their ranks, behind, beside, before,
  And, where he goes, under his feet he treads
  The armed Saracens, and barbed steeds.

  XLIX
  This slaughter-house of angry Mars he passed,
  Where thousands dead, half-dead, and dying were.
  The hardy Soldan saw him come in haste,
  Yet neither stepped aside nor shrunk for fear,
  But busked him bold to fight, aloft he cast
  His blade, prepared to strike, and stepped near,
  These noble princes twain, so Fortune wrought
  From the world's end here met, and here they fought:

  L
  With virtue, fury; strength with courage strove,
  For Asia's mighty empire, who can tell
  With how strange force their cruel blows they drove?
  How sore their combat was? how fierce, how fell?
  Great deeds they wrought, each other's harness clove;
  Yet still in darkness, more the ruth, they dwell.
  The night their acts her black veil covered under,
  Their acts whereat the sun, the world might wonder.

  LI
  The Christians by their guide's ensample hearted,
  Of their best armed made a squadron strong,
  And to defend their chieftain forth they started:
  The Pagans also saved their knight from wrong,
  Fortune her favors twixt them evenly parted,
  Fierce was the encounter, bloody, doubtful, long;
  These won, those lost; these lost, those won again;
  The loss was equal, even the numbers slain.

  LII
  With equal rage, as when the southern wind,
  Meeteth in battle strong the northern blast,
  The sea and air to neither is resigned,
  But cloud gainst cloud, and wave gainst wave they cast:
  So from this skirmish neither part declined,
  But fought it out, and kept their footings fast,
  And oft with furious shock together rush,
  And shield gainst shield, and helm gainst helm they crush.

  LIII
  The battle eke to Sionward grew hot,
  The soldiers slain, the hardy knights were killed,
  Legions of sprites from Limbo's prisons got,
  The empty air, the hills and valleys filled,
  Hearting the Pagans that they shrinked not,
  Till where they stood their dearest blood they spilled;
  And with new rage Argantes they inspire,
  Whose heat no flames, whose burning need no fire.

  LIV
  Where he came in he put to shameful flight
  The fearful watch, and o'er the trenches leaped,
  Even with the ground he made the rampire's height,
  And murdered bodies in the ditch unheaped,
  So that his greedy mates with labor light,
  Amid the tents, a bloody harvest reaped:
  Clorinda went the proud Circassian by,
  So from a piece two chained bullets fly.

  LV
  Now fled the Frenchmen, when in lucky hour
  Arrived Guelpho, and his helping band,
  He made them turn against this stormy shower,
  And with bold face their wicked foes withstand.
  Sternly they fought, that from their wounds downpour
  The streams of blood and run on either hand:
  The Lord of heaven meanwhile upon this fight,
  From his high throne bent down his gracious sight.

  LVI
  From whence with grace and goodness compassed round,
  He ruleth, blesseth, keepeth all he wrought,
  Above the air, the fire, the sea and ground,
  Our sense, our wit, our reason and our thought,
  Where persons three, with power and glory crowned,
  Are all one God, who made all things of naught,
  Under whose feet, subjected to his grace,
  Sit nature, fortune, motion, time and place.

  LVII
  This is the place, from whence like smoke and dust
  Of this frail world the wealth, the pomp and power,
  He tosseth, tumbleth, turneth as he lust,
  And guides our life, our death, our end and hour:
  No eye, however virtuous, pure and just,
  Can view the brightness of that glorious bower,
  On every side the blessed spirits be,
  Equal in joys, though differing in degree.

  LVIII
  With harmony of their celestial song
  The palace echoed from the chambers pure,
  At last he Michael called, in harness strong
  Of never yielding diamonds armed sure,
  "Behold," quoth he, "to do despite and wrong
  To that dear flock my mercy hath in cure,
  How Satan from hell's loathsome prison sends
  His ghosts, his sprites, his furies and his fiends.

  LIX
  "Go bid them all depart, and leave the care
  Of war to soldiers, as doth best pertain:
  Bid them forbear to infect the earth and air;
  To darken heaven's fair light, bid them refrain;
  Bid them to Acheron's black flood repair,
  Fit house for them, the house of grief and pain:
  There let their king himself and them torment,
  So I command, go tell them mine intent."

  LX
  This said, the winged warrior low inclined
  At his Creator's feet with reverence due;
  Then spread his golden feathers to the wind,
  And swift as thought away the angel flew,
  He passed the light, and shining fire assigned
  The glorious seat of his selected crew,
  The mover first, and circle crystalline,
  The firmament, where fixed stars all shine;

  LXI
  Unlike in working then, in shape and show,
  At his left hand, Saturn he left and Jove,
  And those untruly errant called I trow,
  Since he errs not, who them doth guide and move:
  The fields he passed then, whence hail and snow,
  Thunder and rain fall down from clouds above,
  Where heat and cold, dryness and moisture strive,
  Whose wars all creatures kill, and slain, revive.