Jerusalem Delivered Page 6

  Not from our forces, frayle and tyred out,

  Not from our navie, nor from those whom feed

  Doth Greece, nor from the armes of Frankish rout,

  Let that not faile, nor us forsake at neede.

  All other wants we lesse than nothing doubt:

  Who knowes how this defends, and how it strikes,

  Like this no succour for his perill likes.

  86. “But if through secred judgements he denie,

  Or for our sinnes, the aide from him we crave,

  Who ist of us will there a buriall flie,

  Where earst our God his body layd in grave?

  Die will we, nor the living ought envie,

  Die will we, nor our death unvenged have,

  Nor Asia shall at our mischance rejoice,

  Nor ours our death mone with one wailing voice.

  87. “Thinke not that we flie farre from peacefull ease,

  As mortall warre-men fled and feared see:

  Much would the friendship of your king us please,

  Nor with him to ally ought grievous bee.

  But where or no Jury his rules obeyes

  You know, why then thereof such care hath hee?

  Strange realms to winne let him us not gainesay,

  And his safe, glad, in peace long mote he sway.”

  88. So answer’d he, and this his answre knowne

  Pearst Argants hart with pricking furious,

  Nor it conceald he, but with lips up blowne,

  Forth to the captaine steps, replying thus:

  “Who list not peace, warre take he as his owne,

  For store of brawles was never penurous:

  And well you show that farre from peace you flie,

  Since our first speech you cannot pacifie.”

  89. Then by the edge he doth his mantle take,

  He bowes it, plaites it, reacheth towards him

  The plait, and to these farder speeches brake,

  More than tofore of visage spitefull grim:

  “O though that scorne of hardest brunts dost make!

  I peace and warre bring in this plaited brim,

  Thine be the choice, thy selfe well counsell now,

  And stailesse take, which thou dost best allow.” (without delay

  90. At this fierce act and speech they all betooke

  Themselves to call for warre, conjoyn’d in cry,

  Nor stay could for their noble chiefetaine brooke,

  That Godfrey in his owne words might reply:

  He fell unfolds the plait, and mantle shooke,

  And sayed, “To mortall warre I you defy”:

  He sayd it in so fierce and fellon sort,

  That seem’d he op’ned Ianus temple port.

  91. Seem’d he the plait op’ning, thence haled came

  Besotted rage, and discord cruellest,

  And in his skowling eyes bigge torches flame

  Of hags Alecto and Megera rest,

  That Giant earst, who raysd that loftie frame

  Of errour gainst the heavens, may such be ghest:

  And in such semblant him saw Babel great

  Vaunce up his forehead, and the starres to threat.

  92. Godfrey adjoynes, “Now to your king resort,

  And bid him come, and bid him hast a pace,

  For we except your threatned warres effort.

  And if he come not, looke he in short space

  For us at Nyle, in milde and gratefull sort.”

  Them licence give, and with choice guifts them grace

  He doth, Aletes hath a helme of price,

  Which mongst the bootie he had wonne at Nice.

  93. A sword he Argant gives of gold and stone,

  The hilts and pommell wrought so curiously

  By workmans skill, that valew there is none

  In that rich substance, if with forme it try.

  When his long busie sight had skand upon

  The temper, richnesse, trymming thoroughly,

  Argant to Bolleyn sayd, “Soone shall you newes

  Heare, how your guift I have the skill to use.”

  94. Then leave receiv’d, he to his fellowe spake:

  “Now will we ech of us a divers way,

  I to Hierusalem, you t’ Egypt take,

  You with the new sunne, I with the nightly ray.

  My letter or my presence nothing make

  Ought needfull whither you are faring may:

  Beare you the answere backe, hence I depart

  Will not where is of armes proclaymed a mart.”

  95. Thus of a messenger he growes a foe,

  Be it a timelesse, or a ripened hast,

  Where law of nations he offend or no,

  Or old use breake, no doubts he list to cast.

  Answere not reaket, friended by silence so

  Of twinckling starres, to those high walles he past,

  Brooking no stoppe, the t’other eke that stayd,

  What ere might linger, makes as ill apayd. (satisfied

  96. Now it was night, when in deepe rest enfold

  Are waves and windes, and mute the world doth show.

  Weari’d the beasts, and those that bottome hold

  Of billow’d sea, and of moyst streames that flow,

  And who are lodgde in cave, or pend in fold,

  And painted flyers in oblivion low,

  Under their secret horrours silenced,

  Stilled their cares, and their harts suppelled. (subdued

  97. But neyther faithfuls campe, nor Francks chieftaine

  Betake themselves to sleepe, nor t’ ease apply,

  So much they long to see once shine againe

  Th’ expected gladsome dawning in the sky:

  That it may show the way, and guide the traine

  To towne, where doth of their great passage lye

  The bound, now and now prying if there peere

  One ray, or darke of night beginne to cleere.

  THE THIRD SONG

  1. Dawnyng th’embassadresse was ris’ne from bed,

  Tydings to beare, how now grey morne annies, (grows nigh

  The whiles she trimmes her selfe, and golden hed

  Beflowres with roses culd in Paradize,

  When from the campe to arms which buskelled, (bustled

  Doth voice of murmur shrill and loftie rise,

  And trumpets blast prevents, trumpets now found

  Then earst, more cherefull and more cleare of sound.

  2. Th’ advised chieftaine with a gentle bit

  Guideth, and seconds their so bent desire,

  To turne the course more easie seemeth hit,

  Of winding wave that rouls Caribdis nire,

  Or Boreas when at sea he ships doth slit,

  Or courses Mount Penine backe to make retire.

  He rancks them, leades them, and alone them swayes

  Swiftly, but swiftnes such as order stayes.

  3. Winges to ech heart, winges to ech heele are tide,

  Nor his so speedie march the souldier knowes,

  But when the sunne with glowing beames had fride

  The chapped fieldes, and now to height arose:

  Behold Hierusalem t’appeare is spide,

  Behold Hierusalem ech finger showes,

  Behold in one a thousand voices meete,

  And all Hierusalem are heard to greete.

  4. So hardly ging of marriners forth blowne,

  In venture to deskry some straungy shore,

  Who in wild sease, and under pole unkowne,

  Prove waves deceitfull, and windes faithles more:

  If eye at last the coast desirde can owne,

  With glad showt gre’th it, their approch tofore,

  And t’one to t’other showes it, and forgets

  Old noyse the while, and all orepassed letes.

  5. To pleasure great which sight thus first affixt,

  Did breath most sweetly into ev’ry brest,

  Succeedes a deepe contri
tion, that doth mixt

  With fearefull, reverend affection rest.

  Scarce dare they looke up now and then betwixt,

  To towne which Christ as His choice bowre possest,

  Where He deceast, where he was buryed,

  Where He with limmes Himselfe new parrelled.

  6. Lowe accents, silent words, broken sobbings,

  And fearefull sighings of this warlike rout,

  Mingling at once both joyes and sorrowings,

  A murmur make whirle in the aire about,

  As in thicke forrests heard are soft whistlings,

  When through the bowes the wind breathes calmely out,

  Or as amongst the rockes, or neere the shore,

  The driven wave doth hisse and hoarsely rore.

  7. Bare footed ech him to the way addrest,

  For Dukes example mooves the residew:

  Trimming of silke or gold, proud plume, or crest,

  Not one there is, who not from head withdrew.

  All do their hearts of stately thoughts devest,

  And cheekes with skalding teares devout embrew.

  Yet as to plaint foreclosed were the way,

  Ech gainst himselfe doth this accusall lay:

  8. “Then where Thou with a thousand streames, o Lord,

  Bloody didst leave the earth besprinckelled,

  Of bitter plaints so grievous record,

  Least wise two quicke-springs now can I not shed.

  O frozen hart! These eyes that hast not gord,

  And into drops of teares thy selfe melted!

  Hard heart of mine, why splintst? Why breakst not thou?

  Wayle must thou aye, if thou waile nothing now.”

  9. This while one in the citie who descries

  Both hils and plaines, an high towre guarding there,

  Markes from below a dust upward to rise,

  So as it seemes great cloud to print in aire,

  It seemes that cloud lightens and burnes in guise,

  As flames and flashes it did childing beare,

  Then he the shining of the mettall cleare

  Discernes, and tryes both men and horse appeare.

  10. And loud he cries, “O what a dust I vew,

  Spread in the aire! Oh how it seemeth bright!

  Arme, arme to your defense, you citie crew,

  Each speede to armes, and to the walles you dight,

  The en’my comes.” And then he cryes anew,

  “Ech one make haste, ech furnisht be to fight.

  The en’my (see) is come, the dust behold

  Under yon horrid cloud the sky to fold.”

  11. Then seely children, and unarmed old,

  And womens rout of feare ypaled hew,

  To strike or fend, who can no weapons hold,

  Sad and suppliant to ech Meschite drew.

  The rest more firme of lims and stomacke bold

  Tofore on backe hastly their armour threw.

  Some runne to gates, and some unto the wall.

  King goes about, and sees and carkes for all.

  12. He order gives, and then retires them fro,

  Where twixt two gates a turret doth arise.

  So neere he is at neede, and thence, more low,

  The playnes and mountaines round about he skries.

  With him he would there should Erminia go,

  Erminia faire, whom in courteous wise

  Receiv’d to Court, when Christian squadrons gaine

  Did Antioch, and king her sire was slaine.

  13. This while Clorinda gainst the Frankes is hide,

  Store with her goes, and she before them all.

  But at a posterne gate on t’other side

  Argant for reskons stands at readie call. (rescue

  The noble dame her followers affide (bound to her self

  With words and with a looke that scornd to pall.

  “By some brave onset us behooves (quoth she)

  This day the hope of Asia founded be.”

  14. While she her men bespake, not farre she spyes

  A band of Frankes their rusticke prayes driving,

  Who coast for bootie skourde (as is the guyse)

  Were now to campe with flocks and heards turning.

  She towards them, and towards her there hyes

  Their captaine, who her say to him comming.

  Gard is the captaine nam’d, a mightie man,

  But might not such as her resist he can.

  15. This fierce encounter Gardo overthrowes

  In fight of Frankes and Painims on the plaine,

  Who all one outcry made, so lucky showes

  This token of the warre, yet proved vaine.

  Then with the rest in spurring gins she close,

  Her hand the price from thousand hands doth gaine.

  Her men her follow, by the way she made

  Plaine with her shockes, and open with her blade.

  16. Soone from the prayer she doth pray retake,

  The troope of Frankes now step by step retire,

  Till on the top of hill a stand they make,

  Where place to armes new forces gan acquire.

  Then as a tempest doth resolving crake, (crack

  And from the clouds downe falles the airy fire,

  Good Tancred so at Godfreys bidding prest.

  His squadron moves, and maine yard doth arrest.

  17. So strong great launce he beares, and in such guyse

  This youth comes on, both fierce and faire in sight.

  That king who from aloft his port descryes,

  Him deemes amongs the best a chosen knight,

  And sayes to her, who in next seat him nyes,

  And now her hart feeles in a panting plight.

  “Through so long use you may to me declare

  Ech Christen, though in armes they closed be.

  18. “What then is he that doth so seemely frame

  Himselfe so just, and so fierce semblance beare?”

  Unto the ladie for an answere came

  On lips a sigh, and in her eyes a teare.

  But breath and weeping backe she doth reclame,

  Though so as yet they make some muster theare,

  For her swolne eyes, a purple circle faire,

  Tainted and hoarse halfe sight brake forth to aire.

  19. Then sithens she contrives, and seekes to hide

  Another longinge under cloke of hate,

  “Alas I know him well, cause doth betide

  Why mongst a thousand I should know his state.

  For oft the fields, and oft deepe dikes I skride

  Him fill with bloud of vassals mine of late.

  Ah how in striking fell he is! To wound

  He gives in herbes or spels no helpe is found.

  20. “The prince Tancred it is. Ah once that hee

  My prisner were, but alive, not slaine

  I would him have, that fierce desire in mee

  Of sweete revenge might so some comfort gaine!”

  This sayd she, and her words by hearers bee

  Wrong turned from right sense, as she did meane.

  And this last speech a mingled sigh out brought,

  Which to suppresse, but all in vaine she sought.

  21. Tancreds assault this while Clorinda plyes

  T’encounter, and in rest her launce bestowes.

  Ech t’others beaver hits, the splints to skyes

  Up start, and she in part disarmed showes.

  For buckles broke, foorthwith the helmet flyes

  From off her head (a blow whence wonder growes),

  And golden lockes unto the wind displayd.

  She midst the field appeares a youthly mayd.

  22. Her eyes do flash, her lookes do lighten bright:

  Sweete ev’n in wrath, in laughter then what grace

  They hold? Tancred, whereon thinkst thou? Thy sight

  Where bendst thou? Knowst thou not this noble face?

  This is that visage faire w
hence thou in light

  Flames burnst, thy hart (her pictures shrine) the case

  Can show, this fame is she whom quenching thirst

  At solitarie spring thou sawest first.

  23. He that of painted shield, and of her crest

  Tooke earst no keepe, now seeing her doth grow

  Astone, she bared head covers, as best

  She may, and him assayles. He gets her fro,

  And fell blade whirling makes against the rest.

  Yet at her hand peace cannot purchase so,

  But threatfull him persewes, and turne she cries,

  And to deathes twaine at once she him defies.

  24. Stroken this knight, no strokes againe replyes,

  Nor so from sword himselfe to guard attends,

  As to regard her cheekes and fairest eyes,

  From whence his bow love uneschewed bends.

  T’himselfe he sayes, “Ech blow unharmefull dyes,

  Which force of her right hand (though armed) lends.

  But never blow from her faire naked face

  Falles vaine, but in my heart findes lighting place.”

  25. Last he resolves, though pitty hope he none,

  As lover hid, not silent to decease,

  That she her prisner strikes, to make her knowne

  He will, trembling, unarm’d, sewing for peace,

  And sayes, “O thou, that for thy foe alone

  Seem’st me to take among so great a preace, (press

  Let us forsake this thrust, so may aside

  My force with thine, thy force with mine be tride.

  26. “So better shall be seene if my prowesse

  Thine countervaile.” She th’offer not gain-said,

  And as she were of wanted helme recklesse,

  Forth bold she goes, on followes he dismaid.

  Not to the combat had this warriouresse

  Plighted her selfe, and on some blowes now laid,

  When he says “Stay, and of the fight lets make

  The cov’nants, ere we us to fight betake.”

  27. The stops and him of fearefull earst, hardy (earnest?

  Now makes a love converted to dispaire.

  “The cov’nants are (quoth he) since so you fly,

  All peace with me that out my hart you teare,

  My heart, no longer mine, which glad will dy,

  If of his farder life dislike you beare.

  Long time it hath beene yours, now time is fit

  The same you reave, forbid I may not it.

  28. “Behold mine armes downe held you I present,

  Fencelesse my brest, why stay you it to cleave?

  Will you dispatch the worke? Now, now content

  Of curers go, if corps that bare I leave,

  You bid Tancred with threedes of more lament

  His woe (poore wretch) perhaps preparde to weave.”