Part 51

LXV While thus she sung, her sister lured them nigh With many a gesture kind and loving show, To music’s sound as dames in court apply Their cunning feet, and dance now swift now slow: But still the knights unmoved passed by, These vain delights for wicked charms they know, Nor could their heavenly voice or angel’s look, Surprise their hearts, if eye or ear they took.

LXVI For if that sweetness once but touched their hearts, And proffered there to kindle Cupid’s fire, Straight armed Reason to his charge up starts, And quencheth Lust, and killeth fond Desire; Thus scorned were the dames, their wiles and arts And to the palace gates the knights retire, While in their stream the damsels dived sad, Ashamed, disgraced, for that repulse they had.

SIXTEENTH BOOK

THE ARGUMENT. The searchers pass through all the palace bright Where in sweet prison lies Rinaldo pent, And do so much, that full of rage and spite, With them he goes sad, shamed, discontent: With plaints and prayers to retain her knight Armida strives; he hears, but thence he went, And she forlorn her palace great and fair Destroys for grief, and flies thence through the air.

I The palace great is builded rich and round, And in the centre of the inmost hold There lies a garden sweet, on fertile ground, Fairer than that where grew the trees of gold: The cunning sprites had buildings reared around With doors and entries false a thousandfold, A labyrinth they made that fortress brave, Like Daedal’s prison, or Porsenna’s grave.

II The knights passed through the castle’s largest gate, Though round about an hundred ports there shine, The door-leaves framed of carved silver-plate, Upon their golden hinges turn and twine. They stayed to view this work of wit and state. The workmanship excelled the substance fine, For all the shapes in that rich metal wrought, Save speech, of living bodies wanted naught.

III Alcides there sat telling tales, and spun Among the feeble troops of damsels mild, He that the fiery gates of hell had won And heaven upheld; false Love stood by and smiled: Armed with his club fair Iole forth run, His club with blood of monsters foul defiled, And on her back his lion’s skin had she, Too rough a bark for such a tender tree.

IV Beyond was made a sea, whose azure flood The hoary froth crushed from the surges blue, Wherein two navies great well ranged stood Of warlike ships, fire from their arms outflew, The waters burned about their vessels good, Such flames the gold therein enchased threw, Caesar his Romans hence, the Asian kings Thence Antony and Indian princes brings.

V The Cyclades seemed to swim amid the main, And hill gainst hill, and mount gainst mountain smote, With such great fury met those armies twain; Here burnt a ship, there sunk a bark or boat, Here darts and wild-fire flew, there drowned or slain Of princes dead the bodies fleet and float; Here Caesar wins, and yonder conquered been The Eastern ships, there fled the Egyptian queen:

VI Antonius eke himself to flight betook, The empire lost to which he would aspire, Yet fled not he nor fight for fear forsook, But followed her, drawn on by fond desire: Well might you see within his troubled look, Strive and contend, love, courage, shame and ire; Oft looked he back, oft gazed he on the fight, But oftener on his mistress and her flight.

VII Then in the secret creeks of fruitful Nile, Cast in her lap, he would sad death await, And in the pleasure of her lovely smile Sweeten the bitter stroke of cursed fate: All this did art with curious hand compile In the rich metal of that princely gate. The knights these stories viewed first and last, Which seen, they forward pressed, and in they passed:

VIII As through his channel crooked Meander glides With turns and twines, and rolls now to, now fro, Whose streams run forth there to the salt sea sides Here back return and to their springward go: Such crooked paths, such ways this palace hides; Yet all the maze their map described so, That through the labyrinth they got in fine, As Theseus did by Ariadne’s line.

IX When they had passed all those troubled ways, The garden sweet spread forth her green to show, The moving crystal from the fountains plays, Fair trees, high plants, strange herbs and flowerets new, Sunshiny hills, dales hid from Phoebus’ rays, Groves, arbors, mossy caves, at once they view, And that which beauty moat, most wonder brought, Nowhere appeared the art which all this wrought.

X So with the rude the polished mingled was That natural seemed all and every part, Nature would craft in counterfeiting pass, And imitate her imitator art: Mild was the air, the skies were clear as glass, The trees no whirlwind felt, nor tempest smart, But ere the fruit drop off, the blossom comes, This springs, that falls, that ripeneth and this blooms.

XI The leaves upon the self-same bough did hide Beside the young the old and ripened fig, Here fruit was green, there ripe with vermeil side, The apples new and old grew on one twig, The fruitful vine her arms spread high and wide That bended underneath their clusters big, The grapes were tender here, hard, young and sour, There purple ripe, and nectar sweet forth pour.

XII The joyous birds, hid under greenwood shade, Sung merry notes on every branch and bough, The wind that in the leaves and waters played With murmur sweet, now sung, and whistled now; Ceased the birds, the wind loud answer made, And while they sung, it rumbled soft and low; Thus were it hap or cunning, chance or art, The wind in this strange music bore his part.

XIII With party-colored plumes’ and purple bill, A wondrous bird among the rest there flew, That in plain speech sung love-lays loud and shrill, Her leden was like human language true; So much she talked, and with such wit and skill, That strange it seemed how much good she knew, Her feathered fellows all stood hush to hear, Dumb was the wind, the waters silent were.

XIV “The gently budding rose,” quoth she, “behold, That first scant peeping forth with virgin beams, Half ope, half shut, her beauties doth upfold In their dear leaves, and less seen, fairer seems, And after spreads them forth more broad and bold, Then languisheth and dies in last extremes, Nor seems the same, that decked bed and bower Of many a lady late, and paramour;

XV “So, in the passing of a day, doth pass The bud and blossom of the life of man, Nor e’er doth flourish more, but like the grass Cut down, becometh withered, pale and wan: Oh gather then the rose while time thou hast Short is the day, done when it scant began, Gather the rose of love, while yet thou mayest, Loving, be loved; embracing, be embraced.”

XVI He ceased, and as approving all he spoke, The choir of birds their heavenly tunes renew, The turtles sighed, and sighs with kisses broke, The fowls to shades unseen by pairs withdrew; It seemed the laurel chaste, and stubborn oak, And all the gentle trees on earth that grew, It seemed the land, the sea, and heaven above, All breathed out fancy sweet, and sighed out love.

XVII Through all this music rare, and strong consent Of strange allurements, sweet bove mean and measure, Severe, firm, constant, still the knights forthwent, Hardening their hearts gainst false enticing pleasure, Twixt leaf and leaf their sight before they sent, And after crept themselves at ease and leisure, Till they beheld the queen, set with their knight Besides the lake, shaded with boughs from sight:

XVIII Her breasts were naked, for the day was hot, Her locks unbound waved in the wanton wind; Some deal she sweat, tired with the game you wot, Her sweat-drops bright, white, round, like pearls of Ind; Her humid eyes a fiery smile forthshot That like sunbeams in silver fountains shined, O’er him her looks she hung, and her soft breast The pillow was, where he and love took rest.

XIX His hungry eyes upon her face he fed, And feeding them so, pined himself away; And she, declining often down her head, His lips, his cheeks, his eyes kissed, as he lay, Wherewith he sighed, as if his soul had fled From his frail breast to hers, and there would stay With her beloved sprite: the armed pair These follies all beheld and this hot fare.

XX Down by the lovers’ side there pendent was A crystal mirror, bright, pure, smooth, and neat, He rose, and to his mistress held the glass, A noble page, graced with that service great; She, with glad looks, he with inflamed, alas, Beauty and love beheld, both in one seat; Yet them in sundry objects each espies, She, in the glass, he saw them in her eyes:

XXI Her, to command; to serve, it pleased the knight; He proud of bondage; of her empire, she; “My dear,” he said, “that blessest with thy sight Even blessed angels, turn thine eyes to me, For painted in my heart and portrayed right Thy worth, thy beauties and perfections be, Of which the form; the shape and fashion best, Not in this glass is seen, but in my breast.

XXII “And if thou me disdain, yet be content At least so to behold thy lovely hue, That while thereon thy looks are fixed and bent Thy happy eyes themselves may see and view; So rare a shape no crystal can present, No glass contain that heaven of beauties true; Oh let the skies thy worthy mirror be! And in dear stars try shape and image see.”

XXIII And with that word she smiled, and ne’ertheless Her love-toys still she used, and pleasures bold! Her hair, that done, she twisted up in tress, And looser locks in silken laces rolled, Her curles garlandwise she did up-dress, Wherein, like rich enamel laid on gold, The twisted flowers smiled, and her white breast The lilies there that spring with roses dressed.

XXIV The jolly peacock spreads not half so fair The eyed feathers of his pompous train; Nor golden Iris so bends in the air Her twenty-colored bow, through clouds of rain; Yet all her ornaments, strange, rich and rare, Her girdle did in price and beauty stain, Nor that, with scorn, which Tuscan Guilla lost, Igor Venus Ceston, could match this for cost.