Part 17

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 armes 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 western 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 life, 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.