Part 45

LX He that the gliding rivers erst had seen Adown their verdant channels gently rolled, Or falling streams which to the valleys green Distilled from tops of Alpine mountains cold, Those he desired in vain, new torments been, Augmented thus with wish of comforts old, Those waters cool he drank in vain conceit, Which more increased his thirst, increased his heat.

LXI The sturdy bodies of the warriors strong, Whom neither marching far, nor tedious way, Nor weighty arms which on their shoulders hung, Could weary make, nor death itself dismay; Now weak and feeble cast their limbs along, Unwieldly burdens, on the burned clay, And in each vein a smouldering fire there dwelt, Which dried their flesh and solid bones did melt.

LXII Languished the steed late fierce, and proffered grass, His fodder erst, despised and from him cast, Each step he stumbled, and which lofty was And high advanced before now fell his crest, His conquests gotten all forgotten pass, Nor with desire of glory swelled his breast, The spoils won from his foe, his late rewards, He now neglects, despiseth, naught regards.

LXIII Languished the faithful dog, and wonted care Of his dear lord and cabin both forgot, Panting he laid, and gathered fresher air To cool the burning in his entrails hot: But breathing, which wise nature did prepare To suage the stomach’s heat, now booted not, For little ease, alas, small help, they win That breathe forth air and scalding fire suck in.

LXIV Thus languished the earth, in this estate Lay woful thousands of the Christians stout, The faithful people grew nigh desperate Of hoped conquest, shameful death they doubt, Of their distress they talk and oft debate, These sad complaints were heard the camp throughout: “What hope hath Godfrey? shall we still here lie Till all his soldiers, all our armies die?

LXV “Alas, with what device, what strength, thinks he To scale these walls, or this strong fort to get? Whence hath he engines new? doth he not see, How wrathful Heaven gainst us his sword doth whet? These tokens shown true signs and witness be Our angry God our proud attempts doth let, And scorching sun so hot his beams outspreads, That not more cooling Inde nor Aethiop needs.

LXVI “Or thinks he it an eath or little thing That us despised, neglected, and disdained, Like abjects vile, to death he thus should bring, That so his empire may be still maintained? Is it so great a bliss to be a king, When he that wears the crown with blood is stained And buys his sceptre with his people’s lives? See whither glory vain, fond mankind drives.

LXVII “See, see the man, called holy, just, and good, That courteous, meek, and humble would be thought, Yet never cared in what distress we stood If his vain honor were diminished naught, When dried up from us his spring and flood His water must from Jordan streams be brought, And how he sits at feasts and banquets sweet And mingleth waters fresh with wines of Crete.”

LXVIII The French thus murmured, but the Greekish knight Tatine, that of this war was weary grown: “Why die we here,” quoth he, “slain without fight, Killed, not subdued, murdered, not overthrown? Upon the Frenchmen let the penance light Of Godfrey’s folly, let me save mine own,” And as he said, without farewell, the knight And all his comet stole away by night.

LXIX His bad example many a troop prepares To imitate, when his escape they know, Clotharius his band, and Ademare’s, And all whose guides in dust were buried low, Discharged of duty’s chains and bondage snares, Free from their oath, to none they service owe, But now concluded all on secret flight, And shrunk away by thousands every night.

LXX Godfredo this both heard, and saw, and knew, Yet nould with death them chastise though he mought, But with that faith wherewith he could renew The steadfast hills and seas dry up to naught He prayed the Lord upon his flock to rue, To ope the springs of grace and ease this drought, Out of his looks shone zeal, devotion, faith, His hands and eyes to heaven he heaves, and saith:

LXXI “Father and Lord, if in the deserts waste Thou hadst compassion on thy children dear, The craggy rock when Moses cleft and brast, And drew forth flowing streams of waters clear, Like mercy, Lord, like grace on us down cast; And though our merits less than theirs appear, Thy grace supply that want, for though they be Thy first-born son, thy children yet are we.”

LXXII These prayers just, from humble hearts forth sent, Were nothing slow to climb the starry sky, But swift as winged bird themselves present Before the Father of the heavens high: The Lord accepted them, and gently bent Upon the faithful host His gracious eye, And in what pain and what distress it laid, He saw, and grieved to see, and thus He said:

LXXIII “Mine armies dear till now have suffered woe, Distress and danger, hell’s infernal power Their enemy hath been, the world their foe, But happy be their actions from this hour: What they begin to blessed end shall go, I will refresh them with a gentle shower; Rinaldo shall return, the Egyptian crew They shall encounter, conquer, and subdue.”

LXXIV At these high words great heaven began to shake, The fixed stars, the planets wandering still, Trembled the air, the earth and ocean quake, Spring, fountain, river, forest, dale and hill; From north to east, a lightning flash outbrake, And coming drops presaged with thunders shrill: With joyful shouts the soldiers on the plain, These tokens bless of long-desired rain.

LXXV A sudden cloud, as when Helias prayed, Not from dry earth exhaled by Phoebus’ beams, Arose, moist heaven his windows open laid, Whence clouds by heaps out rush, and watery streams, The world o’erspread was with a gloomy shade, That like a dark mirksome even it seems; The crashing rain from molten skies down fell, And o’er their banks the brooks and fountains swell.

LXXVI In summer season, when the cloudy sky Upon the parched ground doth rain down send, As duck and mallard in the furrows dry With merry noise the promised showers attend, And spreading broad their wings displayed lie To keep the drops that on their plumes descend, And where the streams swell to a gathered lake, Therein they dive, and sweet refreshing take:

LXXVII So they the streaming showers with shouts and cries Salute, which heaven shed on the thirsty lands, The falling liquor from the dropping skies He catcheth in his lap, he barehead stands, And his bright helm to drink therein unties, In the fresh streams he dives his sweaty hands, Their faces some, and some their temples wet, And some to keep the drops large vessels set.

LXXVIII Nor man alone to ease his burning sore, Herein doth dive and wash, and hereof drinks, But earth itself weak, feeble, faint before, Whose solid limbs were cleft with rifts and chinks, Received the falling showers and gathered store Of liquor sweet, that through her veins down sinks, And moisture new infused largely was In trees, in plants, in herbs, in flowers, in grass.

LXXIX Earth, like the patient was, whose lively blood Hath overcome at last some sickness strong, Whose feeble limbs had been the bait and food Whereon this strange disease depastured long, But now restored, in health and welfare stood, As sound as erst, as fresh, as fair, as young; So that forgetting all his grief and pain, His pleasant robes and crowns he takes again.

LXXX Ceased the rain, the sun began to shine, With fruitful, sweet, benign, and gentle ray, Full of strong power and vigor masculine, As be his beams in April or in May. O happy zeal! who trusts in help divine The world’s afflictions thus can drive away, Can storms appease, and times and seasons change, And conquer fortune, fate, and destiny strange.

FOURTEENTH BOOK

THE ARGUMENT. The Lord to Godfrey in a dream doth show His will; Rinaldo must return at last; They have their asking who for pardon sue: Two knights to find the prince are sent in haste, But Peter, who by vision all foreknew, Sendeth the searchers to a wizard, placed Deep in a vault, who first at large declares Armida’s trains, then how to shun those snares.

I Now from the fresh, the soft and tender bed Of her still mother, gentle night out flew, The fleeting balm on hills and dales she shed, With honey drops of pure and precious dew, And on the verdure of green forests spread The virgin primrose and the violet blue, And sweet-breathed Zephyr on his spreading wings, Sleep, ease, repose, rest, peace and quiet brings.

II The thoughts and troubles of broad-waking day, They softly dipped in mild Oblivion’s lake; But he whose Godhead heaven and earth doth sway, In his eternal light did watch and wake, And bent on Godfrey down the gracious ray Of his bright eye, still ope for Godfrey’s sake, To whom a silent dream the Lord down sent. Which told his will, his pleasure and intent.

III Far in the east, the golden gate beside Whence Phoebus comes, a crystal port there is, And ere the sun his broad doors open wide The beam of springing day uncloseth this, Hence comes the dreams, by which heaven’s sacred guide Reveals to man those high degrees of his, Hence toward Godfrey ere he left his bed A vision strange his golden plumes bespread.

IV Such semblances, such shapes, such portraits fair, Did never yet in dream or sleep appear, For all the forms in sea, in earth or air, The signs in heaven, the stars in every sphere All that was wondrous, uncouth, strange and rare, All in that vision well presented were. His dream had placed him in a crystal wide, Beset with golden fires, top, bottom, side,

V There while he wondereth on the circles vast, The stars, their motions, course and harmony, A knight, with shining rays and fire embraced, Presents himself unwares before his eye, Who with a voice that far for sweetness passed All human speech, thus said, approaching nigh: “What, Godfrey, knowest thou not thy Hugo here? Come and embrace thy friend and fellow dear!”