Jerusalem Delivered Read online

  But pitie now my pietie would blot,

  If first His right to God I render not.”

  70. At this speech downe the lady cast, and stayd

  Her eyes on th’earth, and stood unmov’d a a space.

  Then them bedewed up she lifts, and said,

  Accompaning her plaint with ruefull grace,

  “Ah wretch, on whom hath sky els every laid

  A life so grievous, and unchangde to trace,

  That others nature rather change, and mind,

  Then my hard fortune should a changing find?

  71. “No farder hope is left, I wayle in vaine,

  In humaine brest prayers have no longer force.

  How may I thinke the tyrant fell my paine

  Will rew, which could in thee worke no remorse?

  Yet will I not of thy hard hart complaine,

  Which from my helpe doth this small aide divorse,

  But plaint gainst heaven my harms cause address,

  Which makes in thee ev’n pitie pitilesse.

  72. “Not you, my lord, not such is your bountie,

  But tis my dest’ny, which me aie denies.

  Dest’ny dismall, fell fatall destine,

  Yeeld eke my hated life to death a prize.

  Was it (aye me) a slender injurie

  To close in youthes flowre my deere parents eyes,

  That thou must also see my kingdome rest,

  And thrald to th’axe as sacrifice me left?

  73. “For since of vertues law the dew respect

  Brookes not that here I trifle longer stay,

  Where shall I fly the while? Who shall protect?

  What, ah, yeeld refuge gainst the tyrant may?

  No place is under sky so closely deckt

  Which gold not opes. Then why do I delay?

  Death preast I see, which since to fly is vaine,

  This hand shall go, and fetch and entertaine.”

  74. There silenc’d she, and seemed a disdaine

  Royall and noble flamed in her face.

  Then turning steps, she showes to part againe,

  With port all framde to sad despiteous grace.

  Her ceaseless mone in such a tune doth plane,

  As is begot when wrath and woe embrace,

  And her new borne teares for they to see,

  Gainst sunny rayes christall and pearle bee.

  75. Her cheekes with those life humours sprinckelled,

  Which trickling dropt down on her vestures hemme,

  Seem’d entermingled roses white and red,

  If so a dewy cloud do water them,

  When to calme breath their closed lap they spred,

  What time first peered dawning takes his stemme,

  And morne which them beholds and in them joyes.

  Proud with their ornament her lockes accoyes. (puts in order

  76. But that cleere humour which embelliseth

  1`Her bosome and faire cheekes with drops so thicke

  Workes the effect of fire, and close creepeth

  Into a thousand breasts, and there doth sticke.

  O miracle of love! Which sparckes draweth

  From teares, and harts in water kindles quicke

  With flames, past nature still his powre extends,

  But in her vertue bove it selfe ascends.

  77. This fained sorrow drew from many a freake (man

  True teares, and harts unstoand most hardened,

  Ech with her walles, and to himself doth speake:

  “By Godfreys ruth if thy suit be not sped,

  His nurse some raging tygre was, and eake

  On rugged Alpes some hideous cragge him bred,

  Or some sea wave which breakes and froth upcastes,

  Fell man that broyles, and such a bewtie wastes.

  78. But Eustace, gallant youth, whom fierie brand

  Of pitie and of love more fervent fride,

  Whiles ech else mutters, or doth silent stand,

  Steps foorth, and tongue to these bold words allide:

  “My lord and brother, with too straight a band

  Your stiffe minde is to your first purpose tide.

  If joynt consent, which doth intreat and pray,

  To plyant bent it somewhat cannot sway.

  79. “I say not that the prince, who their care

  Owe to these troopes, as they to them their awe,

  Should from this siedge with steps backe-turned fare,

  Or from their duetie their regard withdrawe.

  But mongst our selves, who knights adventrous are,

  Devoyde of proper charge, nor bent to lawe,

  That others underly you safely might

  Cull out some ten to patronize her right.

  80. “For from Gods service not bereft is hee

  Who doth a virgin innocent defende,

  And deere those spoyles unto the heavens bee

  Which of a slaughtred tyrant any sende.

  If then to this attempt the profit mee

  Not swayd, which thence assured we attende,

  Yet duetie would me move by dueties right.

  Our order doth our aide to ladies plight.

  81. “Ah, be it farre (for-God) that any say

  In Fraunce or were-so else raignes courtesie,

  That for a cause which on a ground doth stay

  So just and good, perill or paine we fly.

  My selfe here downe my helme and curets lay.

  Here I my sword ungird, nor more will I

  My courser manage, nor beare armes in fight,

  Nor eare henceforth usurpe the name of knight.”

  82. So spake he, and with him his fellowes all

  Concording jangle in a shrilly sound,

  And his advice bootfull and good they call,

  And captaine presse with prayers, and around.

  “I yeeld,” then sayd he, “Me vanquish shall

  So manies concourse, so together bound.

  Graunt we her boon, if so your will encline,

  But be it your advice, and none of mine.

  83. “But if that Godfreys credit ought your prize,

  Some measure yet on your affections place.”

  This sole he spake, and this can them suffize,

  For what he graunted, each gan soone embrace.

  Now what worke not a faire dames pewling eyes,

  And in tongue amarous words hony grace?

  From her sweet lips issues a golden chaine,

  Which soules doth captive, and at pleasure raine.

  84. Eustace her calleth backe, and “Cease (he sayes),

  Lady of bewtie, this your drooping cheere.

  For we will yeeld such, and within few dayes,

  As for your feare shall more than just appeare.”

  Armida then unshrowdes her cloudie rayes,

  And countnance doth with such a smile endeere,

  As her bewtie enamoureth the skyes,

  Whilst with her precious vayle she wipes her eyes.

  85. Her selfe then yeeldes she in notes deerely sweet,

  Gratefull for so large graces they bestow,

  Which printed in her hart thence never fleet,

  But them for ever shall the world know.

  And what the tongue t’expresse appeares unmeet,

  Dumbe eloquence doth in her gestures show,

  And close she hideth under borow’d looke,

  That thought whereof no one suspition tooke.

  86. Then seeing fortune favour with a smile

  The great beginning of her fraudfull parts,

  Ere her conceipt be forst to vary style,

  This wicked worke she’ll end, and more then th’arts

  Of Circe and Medea could beguile.

  Her sweet showes and faire lookes shall beizle harts, (steal

  And with well turned voyce of Syrens kind

  A slumber cast on the most wakefull mind.

  87. The wench ech art employes so to infold

  Som
e new-come lover with out-spreaded net,

  Nor alwayes, nor withall selfe looke doth hold,

  But changde on face, and grace in season set.

  Sometimes her basht eye seemes by shame controld,

  Sometimes with wishfull roules abroad to jet.

  With these the rod, with those she plyes the bit,

  As for their swift or slow love seemeth fit.

  88. When any soule she from her love espies

  Retire, and thoughts to bridle by despeires,

  To him kinde smile she opes, to him her eyes

  Sweet blinck, loves message cleare and cheery beares.

  The dastard sluggardly desires thus wyse

  She spurres, and doubtfull hope t’affiance reares,

  And kindling flames in wils enamored,

  Thaweth the yce by frozen feare ybred.

  89. Againe to some who hardly overgo

  Dew bounds, led by their chieftaine rash and blind,

  Sweet lookes and lovely words more sparely flow,

  Whilst feare to rev’rence doth them prentise bind.

  Yet when disdaine her countnance changed so,

  Glimpsing therethrough some ray of pitie shind,

  That feare they may but not dispaire they need,

  And she more longing doth more stately breed.

  90. Somewhile she gets her selfe elsewhere apart,

  And fashions frames, and doth a visage faine,

  As woe begunne, and from her eyes out-start

  Forst teares full oft, which in she drawes againe,

  The whiles to weepe in deede by such her art.

  A thousand simple soules she does constraine,

  And shafts of love seasons in pities fire,

  That armes so strong may hart give death to hire.

  91. Then as she would stealing away beguile

  Those thoughts, and new hope did awake her mind,

  Towards her lovers bent she steps and style,

  And in joyes seemely weede her face she shined,

  And her bright hew and faire celestiall smile

  Seem’d as a double sunne that gleaming shined

  On thicke and mystie clowds of sorrow sad,

  Which bout their breasts tofore it gathred had.

  92. But whiles she sweetly speakes, and laughes sweetly,

  And with this two-fold sweetnes luls the sense,

  Well neere she makes the soule from bodie fly,

  As gainst so rare delites voyde of defence.

  Ah cruell love that flayth us equally,

  Where wormewood thou or hony do dispense!

  And equall deadly at all seasons bee

  Mischiefes and medcines which proceede of thee.

  93. Twixt tempers crossing thus in frost in flame,

  In plaint and laughter, and midst hope and feare,

  The wylie wench them makes her gleefull game,

  And more her state doth to assurance reare.

  And if some one dare tongue all trembling frame,

  With hoarce voyce witnesse of his paynes to beare,

  She faines, as one unskild in lovers trade,

  Not see the mind whose words it overt made.

  94. Or she her shamefast and downe clyned eyes

  With tire and taint of honesty embowres,

  So as her gayest verdure vayled lyes

  Under the rose which her faire face beflowres,

  As at first birth we see the morning ryse

  In his fresh blooming, and betimely howres,

  And blush of scorne fellowd with that of shame.

  Forth both at once, mixt and confused came.

  95. But if she any by his fashions spy

  Bent to reveile his harts in burning paine,

  Now steale and fly him fro, now meanes supply

  Of speech she doth, and straight them reaves againe,

  So tyrde and skorned all day he treads awry,

  And at the last his hope she chops a twayne,

  Like hunter that at evn’ning leeseth vew (loses

  Of deere, whom long in chance he did persew.

  96. These were the arts with which she could surprize

  A thousand thousand soules by theevish trade,

  Rather the armes with which, in robbing wise,

  To force of love them humble slaves she made.

  What marvaile then, if fierce Achilles lyes,

  Or Hercules or Theseus to blade.

  Of love a pray, if who for Christ it draw,

  The naughtie-packe sometimes do catch in paw?

  THE FIFTH SONG

  1. While as Armida treacherous thus-wise

  The knight entyceth her loves maze to dread,

  Nor on the promisde ten alone relyes,

  But trusts her stealth should more a gadding lead,

  On whom to charge this daungrous enterprise,

  Which she must guide, Godfrey wist not a read. (has no counsel

  For ventrers store, and worth in generall

  Breeds doubt, nor lesse their bent in speciall.

  2. At last he orders with well-ware foresight

  That choyce of one from out themselves they take,

  Who should succeede to noble Dudons right,

  And this election at his pleasure make:

  That so no one with just exception might

  Complaine, or he their causefull wrath awake,

  And show withall how this most worthy band

  With him in price doth of high valew stand.

  3. Then he them to him cals, and gan to say,

  “You have already understood my minde,

  Which for the damsels aide gave not a nay,

  But to riper season it assigned.

  This I propound anew, and well it may

  A dew assent of your opinions finde.

  For in the world light and chaungeable,

  T’is constance oft t ‘ensew thoughts variable.

  4. “But if yet still you deeme it foully staine

  This your degree such perils to refuse,

  And if your noble courage seeme disdaine,

  What so a counsell oversafe ensewes,

  I will not you against your wils retaine,

  Nor calling backe my graunt, my faith abuse,

  But with you be it, as to be is right,

  The bridle of our rule gentle and light.

  5. “To go then or to stay, content I rest

  That on your pleasure freely it depend.

  Yet will that first you make to Duke decest

  New successour, who may your charge attend,

  And mongst you ten out-cull, as likes him best.

  But take of ten, expirde the choice shall end.

  For herein I reserve my sov’raignty.

  In all els franke be his authority.”

  6. So Godfrey spake, and th’anwere to empart

  Ech ones consent upon his brother threw,

  Like as: “O captaine, this farre seeing art

  Of lingring vertue best beseemeth you.

  So vigour of the hand and of the hart

  Of us is lookt, as debet by us due,

  And that ripe firmenesse, which in others case

  Is providence, in us were vilety base.

  7. “And since light harmes, which from this perill grow,

  Weyd with the profit make the ballance rise,

  Your liking had, the chosen ten shall go

  With this damsell to that brave enterprise.”

  Thus he concludes, and with guile tyred so,

  Seekes close to vayle the mind, which inly fries

  With colour’d zeale. Honors desire did move

  The rest (as seem’d), but t’was desire of love.

  8. But youngest Bulleyn with repining eye

  Upon the sonne, who of Sophia leeres, (looks askance

  Whose vertue he admires enviously,

  Which in fine feature more it selfe endeeres,

  His mateship nould, and suttle jealousy, (did not want

 
; Wary conceipts vp his fancie steeres,

  Whence he, his counterstriver drawn apart,

  Arraisons him with this besmoothing art: (questions

  9. “O of great sire, thou greater sonne that art!

  Who, young in price of armes, bearst highest fame

  Of this brave band whereof we make a part,

  Who shall be graced with commanders name?

  I that to famous Dudon scarce my hart

  Sole for the honour of his age could frame

  T’obey, I, Godfreys brother, cannot see

  Whom I should yeeld to save alone to thee.

  10. “Thee whose high lynage egals all the rest,

  Whose glory me, and merit hath out-gon,

  Nor lesse himselfe, in price of martial quest

  To hold, disdaynes the greater Boglion.

  Thee I for captaine crave, if in thee nest

  No will to be this squadrons champion.

  Ne thinke I thou wilt for that honour carke,

  Which may proceed from deeds obscure and darke.

  11. “Nor here wants place where you may betwtify

  Your haughtie valour with fames brighter ray.

  Now I’le procure (if you it not deny)

  This chiefe honour, the rest on you shall lay.

  But for I wot not well what way to ply

  My hart, which plants in doubts his fickle stay,

  Let me obtaine that Armide at my will

  I follow may, or with thee tarry still.”

  12. Here Eustace held his peace, nor uttered

  These later accents without bushing face,

  And his hot burning thoughts ill covered

  T’other well spide, and smiled at the case.

  But for loves flower stroakes scarcely perced

  The utter rinde, which did his brest embrace,

  Nor at a countermate he takes offence,

  Nor to pursew the wench he makes pretence.

  13. But deepely grav’d in holdfast thought abides

  Dudons sharpe death, whom long to over-to live,

  That it audacious Argant so betides,

  He counts will blemish of dishonour give,

  And part into his eares with pleasing slides

  This speech, which him doth to dew honour drive,

  And his young courage joyes and well appayes (satisfies

  In the sweet sound of this true tuned prayse.

  14. Whence thus he answered, “I hold more desire

  Chiefe places to deserve then to obtaine,

  And if I may to vertues height aspire,

  Envy I neede not others haughty raigne.

  Yet to this honour, as my fitting hire,

  If you me call, I will not churchy straine,

  But deere repute, that you so plaine a signe

  Expresse how your good wils to me encline.

  15. “Thus I it not desire, nor yet refuse,