Part 13

LIX “And though he do my regal throne possess, Clothed in purple, crowned with burnished gold; Yet is his hate, his rancor, ne’er the less, Since naught assuageth malice when ’tis old: He threats to burn Arontes’ forteress, And murder him unless he yield the hold, And me and mine threats not with war, but death, Thus causeless hatred, endless is uneath.

LX “And so he trusts to wash away the stain, And hide his shameful fact with mine offence, And saith he will restore the throne again To his late honor and due excellence, And therefore would I should be algates slain, For while I live, his right is in suspense, This is the cause my guiltless life is sought, For on my ruin is his safety wrought.

LXI “And let the tyrant have his heart’s desire, Let him perform the cruelty he meant, My guiltless blood must quench the ceaseless fire On which my endless tears were bootless spent, Unless thou help; to thee, renowned Sire, I fly, a virgin, orphan, innocent, And let these tears that on thy feet distil, Redeem the drops of blood, he thirsts to spill.

LXII “By these thy glorious feet, that tread secure On necks of tyrants, by thy conquests brave, By that right hand, and by those temples pure Thou seek’st to free from Macon’s lore, I crave Help for this sickness none but thou canst cure, My life and kingdom let thy mercy save From death and ruin: but in vain I prove thee, If right, if truth, if justice cannot move thee.

LXIII “Thou who dost all thou wishest, at thy will, And never willest aught but what is right, Preserve this guiltless blood they seek to spill; Thine be my kingdom, save it with thy might: Among these captains, lords, and knights of skill, Appoint me ten, approved most in fight, Who with assistance of my friends and kin, May serve my kingdom lost again to win.

LXIV “For lo a knight, that had a gate to ward, A man of chiefest trust about his king, Hath promised so to beguile the guard That me and mine he undertakes to bring Safe, where the tyrant haply sleepeth hard He counselled me to undertake this thing, Of these some little succor to intreat, Whose name alone accomplish can the feat.”

LXV This said, his answer did the nymph attend, Her looks, her sighs, her gestures all did pray him: But Godfrey wisely did his grant suspend, He doubts the worst, and that awhile did stay him, He knows, who fears no God, he loves no friend, He fears the heathen false would thus betray him: But yet such ruth dwelt in his princely mind, That gainst his wisdom, pity made him kind.

LXVI Besides the kindness of his gentle thought, Ready to comfort each distressed wight, The maiden’s offer profit with it brought; For if the Syrian kingdom were her right, That won, the way were easy, which he sought, To bring all Asia subject to his might: There might he raise munition, arms and treasure To work the Egyptian king and his displeasure.

LXVII Thus was his noble heart long time betwixt Fear and remorse, not granting nor denying, Upon his eyes the dame her lookings fixed, As if her life and death lay on his saying, Some tears she shed, with sighs and sobbings mixed, As if her hopes were dead through his delaying; At last her earnest suit the duke denayed, But with sweet words thus would content the maid:

LXVIII “If not in service of our God we fought, In meaner quarrel if this sword were shaken, Well might thou gather in thy gentle thought, So fair a princess should not be forsaken; But since these armies, from the world’s end brought, To free this sacred town have undertaken, It were unfit we turned our strength away, And victory, even in her coming, stay.

LXIX “I promise thee, and on my princely word The burden of thy wish and hope repose, That when this chosen temple of the Lord, Her holy doors shall to his saints unclose In rest and peace; then this victorious sword Shall execute due vengeance on thy foes; But if for pity of a worldly dame I left this work, such pity were my shame.”

LXX At this the princess bent her eyes to ground, And stood unmoved, though not unmarked, a space, The secret bleeding of her inward wound Shed heavenly dew upon her angel’s face, “Poor wretch,” quoth she, “in tears and sorrows drowned, Death be thy peace, the grave thy resting-place, Since such thy hap, that lest thou mercy find The gentlest heart on earth is proved unkind.

LXXI “Where none attends, what boots it to complain? Men’s froward hearts are moved with women’s tears As marble stones are pierced with drops of rain, No plaints find passage through unwilling ears: The tyrant, haply, would his wraith restrain Heard he these prayers ruthless Godfrey hears, Yet not thy fault is this, my chance, I see, Hath made even pity, pitiless in thee.

LXXII “So both thy goodness, and good hap, denayed me, Grief, sorrow, mischief, care, hath overthrown me, The star that ruled my birthday hath betrayed me, My genius sees his charge, but dares not own me, Of queen-like state, my flight hath disarrayed me, My father died, ere he five years had known me, My kingdom lost, and lastly resteth now, Down with the tree sith broke is every bough.

LXXIII “And for the modest lore of maidenhood, Bids me not sojourn with these armed men, O whither shall I fly, what secret wood Shall hide me from the tyrant? or what den, What rock, what vault, what cave can do me good? No, no, where death is sure, it resteth then To scorn his power and be it therefore seen, Armida lived, and died, both like a queen.”

LXXIV With that she looked as if a proud disdain Kindled displeasure in her noble mind, The way she came she turned her steps again, With gesture sad but in disdainful kind, A tempest railed down her cheeks amain, With tears of woe, and sighs of anger’s wind; The drops her footsteps wash, whereon she treads, And seems to step on pearls, or crystal beads.

LXXV Her cheeks on which this streaming nectar fell, Stilled through the limbeck of her diamond eyes, The roses white and red resembled well, Whereon the rory May-dew sprinkled lies When the fair morn first blusheth from her cell, And breatheth balm from opened paradise; Thus sighed, thus mourned, thus wept this lovely queen, And in each drop bathed a grace unseen.

LXXVI Thrice twenty Cupids unperceived flew To gather up this liquor, ere it fall, And of each drop an arrow forged new, Else, as it came, snatched up the crystal ball, And at rebellious hearts for wildfire threw. O wondrous love! thou makest gain of all; For if she weeping sit, or smiling stand, She bends thy bow, or kindleth else thy brand.

LXXVII This forged plaint drew forth unfeigned tears From many eyes, and pierced each worthy’s heart; Each one condoleth with her that her hears, And of her grief would help her bear the smart: If Godfrey aid her not, not one but swears Some tigress gave him suck on roughest part Midst the rude crags, on Alpine cliffs aloft: Hard is that heart which beauty makes not soft.

LXXVIII But jolly Eustace, in whose breast the brand Of love and pity kindled had the flame, While others softly whispered underhand, Before the duke with comely boldness came: “Brother and lord,” quoth he, “too long you stand In your first purpose, yet vouchsafe to frame Your thoughts to ours, and lend this virgin aid: Thanks are half lost when good turns are delayed.

LXXIX “And think not that Eustace’s talk assays To turn these forces from this present war, Or that I wish you should your armies raise From Sion’s walls, my speech tends not so far: But we that venture all for fame and praise, That to no charge nor service bounden are, Forth of our troop may ten well spared be To succor her, which naught can weaken thee.

LXXX “And know, they shall in God’s high service fight, That virgins innocent save and defend: Dear will the spoils be in the Heaven’s sight, That from a tyrant’s hateful head we rend: Nor seemed I forward in this lady’s right, With hope of gain or profit in the end; But for I know he arms unworthy bears, To help a maiden’s cause that shuns or fears.

LXXXI “Ah! be it not pardie declared in France, Or elsewhere told where courtesy is in prize, That we forsook so fair a chevisance, For doubt or fear that might from fight arise; Else, here surrender I both sword and lance, And swear no more to use this martial guise; For ill deserves he to be termed a knight, That bears a blunt sword in a lady’s right.”

LXXXII Thus parleyed he, and with confused sound, The rest approved what the gallant said, Their general their knights encompassed round, With humble grace, and earnest suit they prayed: “I yield,” quoth he, “and it be happy found, What I have granted, let her have your aid: Yours be the thanks, for yours the danger is, If aught succeed, as much I fear, amiss.

LXXXIII “But if with you my words may credit find, Oh temper then this heat misguides you so!” Thus much he said, but they with fancy blind, Accept his grant, and let his counsel go. What works not beauty, man’s relenting mind Is eath to move with plaints and shows of woe: Her lips cast forth a chain of sugared words, That captive led most of the Christian lords.

LXXXIV Eustace recalled her, and bespake her thus: “Beauty’s chief darling, let those sorrows be, For such assistance shall you find in us As with your need, or will, may best agree:” With that she cheered her forehead dolorous, And smiled for joy, that Phoebus blushed to see, And had she deigned her veil for to remove, The God himself once more had fallen in love.

LXXXV With that she broke the silence once again, And gave the knight great thanks in little speech, She said she would his handmaid poor remain, So far as honor’s laws received no breach. Her humble gestures made the residue plain, Dumb eloquence, persuading more than speech: Thus women know, and thus they use the guise, To enchant the valiant, and beguile the wise.

LXXXVI And when she saw her enterprise had got Some wished mean of quick and good proceeding, She thought to strike the iron that was hot, For every action hath his hour of speeding: Medea or false Circe changed not So far the shapes of men, as her eyes spreading Altered their hearts, and with her syren’s sound In lust, their minds, their hearts, in love she drowned.