Book XVII

Upon Judea’s confines, on the way
That leads to old Pelusium, Gaza stands;
Built on the shore, it overlooks the bay,
And on the east the bordering tract commands, —
A fruitless waste, a solitude of sands,
Which, like the waters of the tossing main,
The breathing whirlwind spreads o’er all the lands;
And scarce the pilgrim can his course maintain,
Against the frequent storm that sweeps th’ unstable plain.

The Caliph’s frontier city, it had been
Won from the Turk, the fruit of old debates;
And being situate nearest to the scene
Of the vast enterprise he meditates,
The seat of empire hither he translates
From Cairo, bord’ring on the Red-Sea coasts,
His sumptuous Capital: from all his States
The flower of warriors which each province boasts,
He has assembled here, and musters now his hosts.

Muse! to my mind recall those bygone times;
Say what was then the standing state of things;
What powers the Caliph moved, from what far climes,
What troops of vassals, and what trains of kings;
The hosts, the leaders and the arms he brings
From the wide Orient to the South, rehearse!
Thou, only thou hast power t’ unlock the springs
Of antique story, and assist my verse
In arms to venture half the banded universe!

When from the Grecian Caesar Egypt first
Rebell’d, a warrior from th’ Arabian Seer
Sprung, in the same fierce superstition nursed,
Tyrant became, and fix’d his kingdom here
Califfo the chief was call’d, a name of fear,
And those who after him the sceptre held,
Took the same term, as Nile, from year to year,
Her Pharaohs first, then Ptolemies beheld,
Renew’d from sire to son, till both this third expell’d.

Long years their empire had confirm’d, and now
Behold its spacious bounds! it comprehends
Libya, from where the palms of Barca bow,
Cyrene towers, and Marmarica bends;
Thence, passing southward up the Nile, extends
To where in lonely state Syene stands;
And, compassing unpeopled countries, ends
In spicy sweet Sabaea’s happy lands,
And where Euphrates winds his way through silent sands.

To right and left in its embrace it boasts
The rich Red Sea and all its incensed shore,
On to the regions of those Eastern coasts,
Whose suns the Persian did whilere adore:
Much is the kingdom in itself; but more,
Ruled by a king resolving to assert
The ancient honors and renown it bore, —
A prince by blood, but more so by desert,
In ev’ry warlike art and policy expert.

Oft ’gainst the Persians, ’gainst the Turks he rear’d
His flag, assailing or assail’d; the same,
Conqu’ring or conquer’d, save that he appear’d
Greater, o’ercome, than when he overcame:
Now, gray with age, he left the toilsome game,
The soldier’s hauberk for the caliph’s gown,
And sheath’d his sabre; but the warrior’s flame
Still warm’d his heart, nor did he yet lay down
Th’ ambitious will that grasp’d at limitless renown.

Still through his ministers he wars, and yet
So full of vigorous intellect appears,
That the vast frame of empire seems a weight
Too slight to cumber much his wintry years.
Libya through all her petty kingdoms fears
His nod, and trembles at his naked blade;
Remotest India his decree reveres;
And one and all send tributary aid,
Either in troops, or gold, with prompt submission paid.

Such was the king who from each Orient realm
Had summon’d forth, and now impels the flower
Of his vast forces northward, to o’erwhelm
The conqu’ring Franks, and crush their rising power.
Last comes Armida, in the very hour
Fix’d by the king his armies to survey,
Apt for review: apart from tent and tower,
On the vast plain the hosts, at break of day,
Proudly before him pass in orderly array.

High on a sumptuous throne he takes his seat,
Climb’d by a hundred ivory steps; his tread
Is upon gold and purple; from the heat,
A spacious sky of silver shades his head;
In glitt’ring interchange of white and red,
Diamond and rubies grace his robes, not spare
Of more barbaric ornaments; instead
Of the gemm’d diadem, white linen fair,
Wrapp’d round in thousand folds, crowns high his reverend hair.

His right hand holds the sceptre, — white as snow
Descends his venerable beard; serene
With some severity, his eyes yet glow
With their first fires, intelligent and keen:
In all his acts the majesty was seen
Of age and empire, majesty, that knew
No change of state; perchance with such a mien
Great Phidias sculptured, and Apelles drew
Jove the divine, but Jove as he his thunders threw!

Near him to right and left two Satraps stand,
Pre-eminent, — the one of most renown
Sustains the sword of justice in his hand,
Unsheath’d; the other bears beneath his gown
Th’ imperial seal, and, counsel to the crown,
Transacts the civil business of the state;
But he who wears a more habitual frown,
Has powers more terrible — high magistrate,
Prince of the hosts, and sworn executor of fate.

Below, a standing guard around the throne,
His Mamalukes plant their lances, thick and wide,
Arm’d not with spears and cuirasses alone,
But long curved sabres pendent at their side.
Thus sate the Tyrant; and at leisure eyed,
From his high station, the collected cloud
Of nations pass: ministrant to his pride,
Low at his feet, in passing, the mute crowd
Their ensigns, arms, and plumes in meek devotion bow’d.

First march th’ Egyptian troops, four squadrons, led
Each by a chief; two in her Upper plain
Where heavenly Nile uprises, and two bred
Amidst her Lower regions, a domain
Won by his waters from the salt-sea main, —
Their rich alluvial slime outstretch’d the shore,
And, settling, form’d a fruitful soil for grain;
Thus Egypt grew, and what was sea before,
Is now far inland ground, obnoxious to the oar.

In the first troop appear the dusky race
Whom the rich plain of Alexandria breeds;
With those who dwell along the coasts that face
The glowing West, a region that succeeds
The Libyan Isthmus; these Araspes leads,
A proud and potent Chief, but less renown’d
For hardy valor than for crafty deeds,
In every art of Moorish war profound,
Skill’d in false flights t’ attack, in ambuscades to wound.

Next come the tribes that front the morning star
And Asian coasts; they rank beneath the crest
Of soft Arontes, whom no deeds of war,
But rank and titles raise to some request.
Ne’er has the helm till now his temples press’d;
Nor e’er till now have the shrill serenades
Of morning trumpets broke his pleasant rest;
But fond ambition him at last persuades,
To try the soldier’s life and leave his native shades.

The third that follows seems no single band,
But a vast host; it fills the fields and shore;
You’d think that all the harvests of the land
Were, for such swarms, an insufficient store:
Yet them a single City, rank’d before
Whole provinces in strength, wherein reside
Myriads of men — Grand Cairo sends; thence pour
The mighty swarms that pass, troops yet untried
In the debates of war, and Campson is their guide.

Next under Gazel march the men who reap
The grain that in the bord’ring garden grows
Far up the River, to the lofty steep
O’er which its second cataract foaming flows.
All these Egyptians have but swords and bows;
No helm their heads, no cuirass fortifies
Their breasts, but passing rich their vesture shows,
Which leads the foe in battle to despise
Chance of impending death, in passion for the prize.

Next come, half naked and unarmed, the hordes
Of Barca, rank’d beneath Alarcon’s sway,
Who for long ages with voracious swords
Have ranged the deserts, and sustain’d by prey
Their famish’d lives; more civilized than they,
But inexpert in marshall’d war, succeed
Those who Zumara’s turban’d king obey,
And them from Tripoli; they both exceed
In flying fights, and wound with all a Parthian’s speed.

Then follow those who in Arabia dwell,
The Stony, and the Happy land, which knows
Neither (if true the tales that pilgrims tell)
Th’ excess of summer heats, or winter snows:
Where flourishes the balm, the spikenard blows;
Where dies th’ immortal Phoenix to assume
Fresh life, with leaves of myrtle and of rose,
And each diviner plant of sweet perfume,
Building at once her bower, her cradle, and her tomb.

With bow and cimeter resembling those
Th’ Egyptians bear, less dainty is their dress;
Their dark array the Bedouin Arabs close,
Who no fix’d region or abodes possess;
But o’er the wild unstable wilderness
Their migratory tents and cities bear,
Perpetual pilgrims; womenlike, not less
Shrill are their voices, short their forms and spare,
Long their wild raven locks, their faces just as fair.

Long Indian canes, with iron tipp’d, they bear,
And upon steeds so nimble sweep along,
You’d say a whirlwind blew them past, if e’er
The wings of whirlwinds had a speed so strong.
Syphax the first undisciplined rude throng
Commands; the next Aldino trains for fight;
The rest to fierce Albiazar belong,
Whom rapine, wounds, and blood alone delight,
A sort of kingly thief — a murderer, not a knight.

Then pass the Islanders with fleecy curls,
Whose homes are compass’d by th’ Arabian waves;
By whom those shells which breed the Persian pearls
Are dived and fish’d for, in their Green-Sea caves.
With them are join’d a host of sable slaves,
Negroes, along the coasts of Nubia born;
Foremost of those king Agricalt outbraves
The best, while these obey Osmida’s horn,
A wretch that mocks at faith, and laughs all laws to scorn.

The Isle of Meroe next its Ethiops sends,
Which Nilus there, and Astrabora here
Gird with their waves; three realms it comprehend,
And two religions in its spacious sphere:
Them young Canario leads, and Asimire,
Both monarchs, both Mahometans, and both
The Caliph’s tributary friends; but here
The third comes not, — the Caliph would be loath
Or to employ his arms, or trust his Christian oath.

Two other subject kings, in brave array,
Bring up their archers next, a goodly band;
The first from Ormus, which the Persian bay
Encompasses, a rich luxurious land, —
The last from Boecan, whose banks of sand
Th’ embracing ocean at high tide sweeps o’er,
And forms an isle; but shortly, from its strand,
When the tide ebbs, men scorn the billows’ roar,
And with unmoisten’d feet pass safe from shore to shore.

Nor could a much-loved wife, great Altamore,
Thee in her happy bridal bed detain.;
Her breast she beat, her golden tresses tore,
To stay thy fatal voyage, but in vain.
“Cruel!” she said, “has then the frightful main
A face than mine more lovely or more mild?
And can it seem more pleasant to sustain
The sword and shield with bloody dust defiled,
Than kiss thy consort’s cheek, and dance thine infant child?”

He is the king of Samarcand; his crown
Is free, but not in this his glories dwell;
Well versed in arms, his courage and renown
All others’ courage and renown excel;
Th’ unconscious Franks shall know it but too well,
Already have they cause to fear his face:
His soldiers, each rude weapon to repel,
Wear coats of mail, fine helms their temples grace,
Their thighs the sword display, their saddle-bows the space.

Lo, next, where fierce Adrastus from far Ind,
Aurora’s land, comes frowning! he nor bears
Breastplate nor helm, but for a charm, behind,
A rich green snake-skin streak’d with sable wears:
Thus arm’d, all dangers of the fight he dares;
Upon a monstrous elephant he rides,
His constant wont when he for war prepares;
From this side Ganges he the people guides,
That live where Indus rolls to sea his mighty tides.

Next come the king’s own troops, choice warriors, class’d
The flower of Memphian chivalry; all those
Who with most honor and renown had pass’d
Through peace and war, this body-guard compose:
Arm’d for security and fear, each shows
A barb obedient to his armed heel;
And heaven itself smiles, sparkles, shines, and glows
From their array — as round the field they wheel, —
Helm, cuirass, mantle, plume; gems, crimson, gold, and steel.

Here rides Alarco fierce, and Odemar,
Marshaller of armies; Idraote, Rimedon,
For proud audacity renown’d afar,
Who laughs at death, and veils his plume to none;
Rapoldo, glorious for his murders done,
Corsair and tyrant of the sea; inflamed
Tigranes, Ormond, whom the mighty shun,
And Marlabust Arabicus, surnamed
From the rebellious hordes his sword so oft has tamed.

Orindo, Pirga, Arimon, Brimarte,
Scaler of towns, are here with swift Siphante,
Tamer of steeds; and, of the wrestler’s art
Thou the great master, strong Aridamante!
And, foremost upon tower and crag to plant
His standard, thunderbolt of war, severe
Young Tisaphernes! with whom none can vaunt
Like skill, in tilt or tournay to career,
On foot the sword to wave, in selle to toss the spear.

A brave Armenian guides them, who in youth,
Unfix’d in Christ, Mahometan became;
Then Clement he was call’d, but from the truth
Departing, Emirene is now his name;
In all besides a man of noble fame,
Dear to the Caliph above all his band
Of Satraps, — equal honor may he claim,
Soldier or chief, in action or command,
For wisdom, dauntless heart, and valiant strength of hand.

All were now pass’d; when lo! in splendid state
Appears Armida, and her troop displays;
With robes succinct, high on her car she sate,
Arm’d like the quiver’d Goddess of the chase.
The new displeasure in her angel face
Mix’d with the native sweetness which it wore,
To its fine features gave but sharper grace;
Wounded herself, deep wounds and torments sore
She seems, incensed, to threat, and threat’ning charms the more.

Her car, that glorious as Aurora’s roll’d,
With rubies, pearls, and hyacinths glister’d clear;
Four pairs of unicorns, with yokes of gold,
Pass to the rich reins of the charioteer.
A hundred pages and fair girls appear
Near her, whose quivers at their backs resound;
Smart archers all, they o’er the plain career
On milk-white steeds, well practised to wheel round,
And swift with horny hoofs spurn back the dinted ground.

Her army follows, from Damascus sent
By Idraote, and led by Aradine; —
As when the new-born Phoenix makes ascent
To visit her warm realms beneath the Line,
With golden crown, starr’d wings, and necklace fine
Of all rich feathers — purple, crimson, green,
A sparkling carcanet, — her state divine
The world beholds amazed, and round their queen
A crowd of awestruck buds fly, glorying in her sheen.

So pass’d Armida, so Armida shined
In habit, gesture, and commanding grace!
Nor was there one so stern and uninclined
To love, but glow’d those beauties to embrace.
If she can charm in this her sullen case
Nations so various, in so short a while,
What will she do when with a happy face
She pays court to them in her sweetest style,
Woos with her radiant eyes, and thrills with her fond smile!

But when she too in her admired costume
Had pass’d applauded, and the pageant closed,
The king for Emerino sent, to whom,
Preferr’d to all his captains, he proposed
To give the sole direction of the host;
Divining his intent the Chief attends,
And with an air that shows him for the post
Well worthy, comes, — the guard asunder rends,
Leaving a midway path, and he the throne ascends.

He bows his head, he bends his knee, his hand
Lays on his heart, and thus the king: “To thee
This sceptre, Emirene, to thy command,
I yield these hosts, — rule thou in lieu of me;
Setting the subject king of Judah free,
Bear not the sword of my revenge in vain;
Go, see, and conquer! let no Christian be
Saved from the slaughter, or, if some remain,
Let them to me be brought, and fill no gentle chain.”

Thus spoke the Tyrant; and the turban’d Peer
The sovereign rule accepting, thus replied:
“From thy unconquer’d hand, blest She, I here
The sceptre take, with fortune for my guide!
Strong in thy strength, thy captain, I confide
Herein t’ avenge upon the Latin race
All Asia’s wrongs; but this let strokes decide;
Ne’er but as victor will I see thy face;
The war our death may bring, — it shall not bring disgrace.

“Heaven grant, if all (though none indeed I dread)
Should be ordain’d to trouble our success,
The whole black storm may burst upon my head!
Safe be the host, and its dead leader less
In funeral sorrow than the happiness
Of pomp triumphal home be borne along!”
Thus spake the Chief; and closing his address,
Loud shouts arose from all that mighty throng,
With harsh barbaric sounds from atabal and gong.

Midst this wild music and these shouts, the king,
Girt by his brave Circassians, left the throne
For the gay tent, and to rich banqueting
The Chiefs inviting, took his seat alone;
Whence, now rich dainties, now in pleasant tone
He graceful compliments to each address’d,
Not one neglecting; here, when all were flown
With mirth, the wine-cup circling with the jest,
Fit space Armida found, her project to digest.

But, the feast finish’d, and all eyes intent
On her fair aspect, she, who clearly read
By well-known signs that to her heart’s content
Her pleasing poison in all minds was shed,
Rose, turn’d towards the king her graceful head,
And, in an attitude ’twixt grief and cheer,
Rev’rence and inborn haughtiness, thus said;
Studying in voice and gesture to appear,
Much as she could, serene, fierce, gen’rous, and severe.

“I too am come, great king! to dare the worst,
Firm for our faith, our country, and our right;
A Lady, true, but in a palace nursed, —
A Princess sure may well become the fight.
Who hopes to rule an empire, should not slight
One brave accomplishment, — the self -same hand
Should poise the spear as sceptre; mine shall smite,
(Nor slow, nor torpid to the bow or brand,)
And learn with foeman’s blood to fertilize the land.

“Think not that now for the first time the star
Of glory lights me to this noble aim;
That only now I have been prompt by war
T’ uphold our laws, and fortify the frame
Of thy vast empire! whether what I name
Be true, or utter’d out of vain parade,
Thou shouldst thyself remember, — thou my fame
Hast heard — what troops of those who bear display’d
The Redcross, Nobles all, my captive slaves I made: —

“They in my snares were taken, were secured,
And as a noble gift to thee were sent,
And might have lain perpetually immured
In thy dark dungeons, — such was mine intent, —
So hadst thou now gone forth more confident
Of ending, by a glorious victory,
The desp’rate conflict upon which we’re bent,
Had not Rinaldo, doom’d our curse to be,
Slain my appointed guards, and set the prisoners free.

“Who this Rinaldo is, is not unknown;
The world’s but too much pester’d with his name;
This is the savage who has overthrown
Our hopes, nor have I yet avenged the shame.
Hence does fierce anger, with just cause, inflame
My rising spirit; hence does it inspire
This my resolve to arms; I am all flame:
For other wrongs I have, but they would tire,
Let what is said suffice; revenge is my desire.

“And I revenge will have! all shafts the skies
Cut not in vain, some work the shooter’s will;
And Allah oft his red right hand applies
To dart his bolts against triumphant ill.
But lo! if any will the ruffian kill,
Cut off the head I so much hate to see,
And cast it reeking at my feet, his skill
Shall have my thanks; the vengeance sweet will be,
But O, ten times more sweet, if wrought indeed by me.

“Yes, ’twill be sweet; so sweet, I will resign
What most I prize, what numbers vainly sued,
My crown, my marriage portion, and, in fine,
Myself, if that be the reward he would.
All these I vow, and make my promise good
By the firm oath; all solemnly I swear
Inviolable faith and gratitude
Through life; if any think the proffer fair,
Let him in terms as frank the rising thought declare!”

When thus the Lady had proclaim’d her mind,
Adrastus, greedy of her charms, replied;
“Now Heaven forbid thy shafts should be so kind
As to destroy the barbarous homicide!
So base a heart — does it deserve,” he cried,
“That thou, fair Amazon, its blood should shed?
Forego the thought! and in my arm confide
To gratify thy wrath, revenge the dead,
And at thy saintly feet to roll his odious head!

“I’ll pluck his heart out; to the vultures I
Will, joint by joint, his carcass cast!” thus spoke
The swarthy Indian; but his vaunting high
The gallant Tisaphernes ill could brook:
“And who,” he cried, with anger in his look,
“Art thou, who giv’st thyself such gorgeous airs
Before the king, nor fear’st our fierce rebuke?
Look round! here’s one perchance at least that dares
Outact thy mighty vaunts, though more his words he.

Quick the fierce Indian answer’d; “I am one
Whose deeds were never by his words surpass’d;
But if elsewhere thy insolence had run
To such excess, the insult were thy last.”
And here from threats to blows they soon had pass’d,
But all repress’d the quarrel, and between
Both chiefs the monarch his dread sceptre cast;
Then to Armida said: “Illustrious queen!
Thy soul indeed is great, thy manly courage keen.

“Worthy thou art that these abase their pride
To thee, and in the sweet abasement joy;
That thou hereafter mayst their sabres guide
With surer aim, that felon to destroy;
There let both chiefs their chivalry employ,
And in a happier field their worth contest:”
This said, the monarch ceased; they, nothing coy,
Offer again on scorn’d Rinaldo’s crest
To prove whose sworded arm shall wreak her vengeance best.

Nor these alone; but all the heroes there,
Renown’d in war, ambitious of her bed,
Offer with vaunts their services, — all swear
To take revenge on his accursed head.
So many arms she moved! such hatreds bred
Against the knight whom late her tender love
Woo’d with all sweets! but he, since first he fled
Th’ enchanted isle, and the blue ocean clove,
Swiftly before the wind with all good omens drove.

In the same track that it before had plough’d,
The charmed gondola is homeward borne;
And every air that sings in sail and shroud,
With equal kindness speeds its gay return:
The youth now marks, stretch’d pensive at the stern,
The Pleiads smile, the misty Hyads weep;
Now round the Pole the Bears slow wheeling turn;
And now, as twilight tints cascade and steep,
The rocks whose umber woods o’erhang the shaded deep.

Now of the Camp, of foreign nations now,
The various customs he inquires, and weighs;
And thus the briny seas they ceaseless plough,
Three starry nights, and three sunshiny days.
But when the fourth calm sun with farewell rays
Far o’er the waters of the west descends,
The grounding vessel its swift motion stays;
Then spoke the damsel; “Palestine, my friends,
Is won! your voyage here, and here my duty ends.”

She set the knights ashore, and disappear’d,
Ere they could take farewell, or say, she’s gone!
Meanwhile the Night her sable standard rear’d,
All hues and objects mingling into one.
Long o’er those waste sands, through the twilight dun,
The knights gazed anxious to discern some ray
From tower or cottage-shed, but light was none;
Nor step of man, nor tract of beast astray,
Nor aught beside was seen that might direct their way.

Forward at length they move, and when the dash.
Of breaking billows, on the shingles roll’d,
Melts from their ear, far off a sudden flash
Of something radiant may their eyes behold;
Which, with mild silver rays and gleams of gold
Making the lone night beautiful, withdraws
The shadowy screen that had before controll’d
Their confidence and cheer; they make no pause,
But to the light advance, and soon perceive the cause.

Arms newly forged they see, to a tall elm
Against the rising moon suspended high,
Whence sparkling gems, upon the gilded helm
And mail, shed fire as from a starlight sky:
Near as they draw, much rich-wrought imagery,
Footmen, and knights that on war-horses ride,
On the vast shield emblazon’d they descry;
An aged watchman sat the arms beside,
Who to receive them rose, when their approach he spied.

Well the two warriors knew the ancient face
For that of their wise host and courteous friend;
He straight received them with a warm embrace,
And when their mutual courtesies had end,
Turn’d to the Youth, who silent seem’d to send
To the tall form he reverenced and admired,
An asking eye, and greeting said; “Attend,
My son! thee solely in this place retired
I wait, and much to see thy aspect have desired.

“For know, I am thy friend, and for thy good
How truly I have cared, inquire of these;
Who, taught by me, th’ enchantments have subdued,
That bound thy life up in voluptuous ease.
Mark now my heavenly precept, which agrees
With perfect bliss, though adverse to the smooth
Seducing siren’s; let it not displease,
But keep it well in mind, till in the truth
A wiser, holier tongue instruct thine erring youth.

“Not underneath green shades, by fountains shrill,
Amidst the nymphs and sirens, fruits and flowers,
Is placed our bliss, but on the steep rough hill
Of virtue, climb’d through sunshine, snow, and showers;
He that, embosom’d in Idalian bowers,
Treads but gay Pleasure’s primrose path, will ne’er
Reach the high crown; the royal eagle towers
Round the steep cliff, and thou, wilt thou forbear
To spurn the lowly vale, and fix thine eyrie there?

“Nature has given thee elevated thought,
Nature has raised thy face toward the skies,
That thou shouldst look erect, and by well-wrought
Heroic deeds to loftiest glory rise:
Nature has given thee ardent sympathies,
And a brisk wrath, not on each slight pretence
To waste in civil broils, nor yet, unwise,
To be the ministers of appetence,
And ev’ry loose delight discordant to good sense:

“But that thy valor, by these passions arm’d,
With more success thy outward foes may quell;
And check the lusts with which the heart is charm’d,
When the strong demons in the blood rebel:
The wise man governs and applies them well
Each to the proper end for which ’tis plain
They were assign’d, — now bids them sink, now swell,
As intellectual Reason does ordain,
Prompt to impel them now, now cautious to restrain.”

Thus spake the Senior; the hush’d youth, intent,
Stored in his grateful memory all he said,
And, conscious of his errors, meekly bent
His eyes to earth, with cheeks all rosy red.
Well mark’d the Sage the sweet confusion spread,
Well guess’d the secret sentiments that roll’d
Across his mind, and added; “Raise thy head;
And in this sculptured shield, my son, behold
What thy illustrious sires achieved in days of old.

“Of thy dead ancestors the long bright track
Shall be reveal’d thee in this desert place,
While thou, degen’rate loiterer, hangest back,
Nor stirr’st a step in glory’s ardent race!
Arouse thyself; up! up! thy spirit brace;
Let what I here point out to thee, incite
Thy slumb’ring valor their renown to grace.”
Thus spoke the Sage; and, as he spoke, the knight
Fix’d on the pictured shield his keen perusing sight.

The learned sculptor, with a master’s hand,
In narrow field unnumber’d forms had done;
Here all the race of glorious Azzo stand,
In long unbroken order, sire and son.
The pure unspotted streams were seen to run
From the old Roman source in ancient days;
The Lords stand crown’d with laurel; one by one,
The hoary Sage selects them, and displays
Their wars and glorious deeds, and points his speech with praise.

He show’d him Caius, when to foreign foes
The nodding Empire first became a prey,
As the first Prince of Esté, fairly chose
By a glad people, proud his will t’ obey;
And how the weaker neighboring states each day
Flock’d to his wing for safety; how he bore
O’er them free rule; and, when by his weak sway
Honorius call’d the Goths, to make once more
The bold and bloody march which they had made before; —

And when all Italy appear’d in flame
From their barbaric torch, and weeping Rome,
A slave and prisoner, mourn’d her perish’d fame,
And fear’d the dreadful trumpet of her doom,
How well Aurelius, in that hour of gloom,
Preserved his vassals wholly unenslaved;
Then how, distinguish’d by his lofty plume,
The bold Foresto resolutely braved
The Hun whose barbarous flag Italian breezes waved.

By his grim aspect Attila was known,
His eyes like dragons’ flashing through the dark;
With his dog’s visage who beheld him frown,
Would soothly swear they heard him snarl and bark:
Then, foil’d in duel, you the man might mark
Steal off amidst his train, in shame and rage, —
And how from Aquileia’s towers, the ark
Of Roman liberty, Foresto sage
Roll’d back the storm of war, the Hector of his age.

He fell, and half the fabric with him fell
Of his loved country! Acarine, his son,
Built up the breaches, and defended well
Th’ Italian bulwarks, as his sire had done;
To the strong Fates, not to the savage Hun,
He yielded up Aitino, soon renew’d
Upon a safer site, — he join’d in one
A thousand scatter’d seats and hamlets rude,
Where through a fruitful vale his course the Po pursued.

With walls he bank’d it, in all points complete,
Strong to withstand th’ o’erflowing river’s rage;
Thus rose the city doom’d to be the seat
Of Esté’s princes in a later age:
Drawn is he driving from his heritage
The savage Alans; next, with crimson glaive,
Venturing with Odoacer to engage,
He dies for Italy; what fate more brave,
Than thus to share at once his sire’s renown and grave!

With him fell Alphorisio; Azzo sad
With his dear brother into exile goes,
Soon to return with arms and counsel, glad
The tyrant’s power hath found a timely close.
Near him, an arrow in his eyeball, shows
Esté’s Epaminondas, he who seal’d
With blood his patriot vows! he in the throes
Of doom dies happy, since from the red field
Fierce Totila is fled, and saved his darling shield.

Of Boniface I sing: his boyish son,
Valerian, follows in his steps; his brand.
And his already manly arm, not one
Of all the Gothic squadrons dare withstand.
Near, of ferocious aspect, sword in hand,
Sculptured is bold Ernesto, cap-a-pee,
Smiting the wild Sclavonians from the land;
Then comes th’ intrepid Aldoardo, he
Who shut the Lombard king from fair Montselice.

Henry was there, with Berenger, whose might,
When Charlemagne his flag august display’d,
Was seen still foremost in the ranks of fight,
Whether he ruled the squadron, or obey’d.
Him Lewis followed, — he from friendly made
Adverse, against that nephew who the throne
Of Italy possess’d, bold battle weigh’d, —
Conquer’d, and took him captive; next was shown
Otho, by his five sons indisputably known.

Here shines Almerico, first Marquis styled
Of that fair City, Princess of the Po;
His musing attitude, and glances mild
To heaven upraised, his pious spirit show,
Founder of churches and of shrines; but lo,
In other mood the second Azzo wars
With Berengarius, his immortal foe!
Who, after various turns of fate, withdraws,
O’ercome, and Azzo gives th’ Italian cities laws.

Albert, his son, in Germany maintains
His fame; his chivalry is voiced so wide,
From warring, conqu’ring, tilting with the Danes,
That Otho woos his daughter for a bride,
With a large dowry; next him, is descried
The gallant Ugo with his waving crest,
Whose valor tamed the horns of Roman pride;
He, Marquis now of Italy address’d,
Beneath his guardian care all Tuscany possess’d.

The eye Tebaldo, next, and Boniface
Close by his Beatrice’s side, engage;
Then no male heir of the illustrious race
Lives to enjoy the extensive heritage.
Matilda follows, who in sex and age
Well that defect supplied by her renown
And hardy deeds; fair, brave, discreet, and sage,
Beyond the golden sceptre, throne, and crown,
She had the power t’ advance the wimple, coif, and gown.

A manlike spirit sparkled in her eye,
A more than manlike courage arm’d her look;
The Normans beat, she forced their chief to fly,
Guiscard, who ne’er before the field forsook;
Here the fourth Henry broke, his standard took,
And with the spoil the solemn temple graced;
And there the Pontiff who the thunders shook
Of the dread Vatican, his pride abased,
In high Saint Peter’s chair with dignity replaced.

Now at her side, now seconding her views,
With looks of reverence and of love, is seen
Azzo the Fifth; but, blest with all kind dews,
From the Fourth Azzo’s stock upshooting green,
Yet happier branches beautify the scene;
Lo, where to Germany Lord Guelpho goes!
(Guelpho, his son, by Cunigond his queen;)
Thus in Bavarian fields, transplanted, grows
The good old Roman graft that in Ferrara rose.

There with this Estéan branch the Guelphic tree
Engraft, revives, as it was waxing old;
Now in its scions you the Guelphs might see
Renew their sceptres, stars, and crowns of gold,
Brighter than ever; while each orb that roll’d
In heaven, its fairest rays and aspects shed;
So that it flourish’d still, and, uncontroll’d,
Tower’d till the heavens themselves confined its head,
Which half the spacious land with fruit and shade o’erspread.

Nor less luxuriantly the royal stem
Flower’d in th’ Italian boughs; Bertoldo here
Shot forth, confronting Guelpho, and with them
Azzo the Sixth renew’d the glories clear
Of his great sires: — thus animate appear
Upon the breathing shield, in long array,
These forms, to Fame and to Rinaldo dear;
A thousand sparks of pride that fond survey
Struck forth, that in the wreck of honor latent lay.

And, for the like divine renown ablaze,
Their gallant actions so transport his brain,
That he already in his mind portrays
The city conquer’d, and the people slain;
All seems presented, palpably and plain,
Before him, — the storm’d towers, the rending walls;
He snatches up the arms in ardent vein,
And, almost fancying that the trumpet calls,
With wing’d aspiring hopes the vict’ry far forestalls.

Then Charles, who had related long before
The Danish Prince’s death, with frank address
The sword presented which Prince Sweno wore, —
“Take it,” he said, “and with it good success!
With just and pious sentiments, no less
Than a brave hand employ it, sound and strong,
In Christ’s good cause; may he thine efforts bless!
And thou avenge its former master’s wrong,
Who waits it at thy hands, who loved thy virtues long!’

“God grant,” the knight replied, “for his dear sake,
Since of his sword thus happily possess’d,
That I indeed may full requital take,
And duly thus fulfil his last request!”
Charles, overjoy’d, in brief his thanks express’d,
And added tributes of affection paid;
But here the Sage, with the desire impress’d
To expedite their course, stepp’d in, and pray’d
That their return might now no longer be delay’d.

“High time it is,” he said, “that you prepare
To reach the army; you will not arrive
Unlook’d-for, — come then, through the dusky air
Trust to my guidance, safely will I drive.”
He said: his words their eagerness revive;
They climb the car, and take their seats; this done,
He cheers his coursers to the lash, which strive,
Curving their necks, each other to outrun,
And shapes their rapid course to meet the morning sun.

Through the brown darkness of the night serene
Thus they rode on, with deep reflection mute;
When the Sage spoke: “Thou of thy race hast seen
The various boughs, and traced them to their root;
Yet fancy not, because that ancient shoot
Has thriven so fully in its morn of May,
The fruitful mother of heroic fruit,
That through old age it ever will decay,
And want or fruit or flower, to grace a verdant spray.

“O that, as I thy elder sires have drawn
Forth from the Gothic gloom of antique night,
I could the figures of thy sons unborn
Paint on the shield, with hues as clear and bright!
That, ere they ope their eyelids to the light,
I could their triumphs to the world resound!
Then shouldst thou see, with all a sire’s delight,
A host of future heroes crowd around,
Their series no less long, their deeds no less renown’d.

“But my skill serves not of itself to mark
A ray of truth from out the future shine,
Other than dim and dubious, as the spark
Of a far taper in a misty mine:
Yet, if some tidings of thy future line
In certainty I give, without disguise,
Call it not bold; for what I thus divine,
Is learn’d from One before whose vision lies,
Clear and unveil’d, the scenes and secrets of the skies.

“What God’s pure light to him, and he to me
Has shown, as freely I to thee relate;
Nor Gentile, Greek, or Latin progeny,
Or in these times, or those of elder date,
E’er teem’d with heroes of such noble state
As Heaven, in its high favor, does foredoom
To thee and thine; nor may the good and great
In Sparta, Carthage, Macedon, or Rome,
To match their glorious fame or majesty presume.

“But far o’er others shall Alphonso shine,
In title second, but the first in worth;
When for illustrious men the world shall pine,
Old and corrupted, shall this prince have birth:
None, in those days of darkness and of dearth,
Shall better sway the sword or sceptre bright;
None with his wisdom so enlighten earth,
Charm in the Court, or fulmine in the fight;
Thy seed’s ascendant pride, his age’s guiding light!

“While yet a youth, he shall give pregnant signs
Of manhood, — prince in each gymnastic play;
Scourge of wild beasts mid mountain peaks and pines;
Graced, at all solemn tilts and tournays gay,
With the first shouts and favors of the day;
And when to actual warfare he shall pass,
Rich spoils and palms victorious bear away;
And for brave deeds, writ down in breathing brass,
Wear many a votive crown of laurel, oak, and grass.

“The equal glory of his riper age
Shall be to stablish peace and calm repose;
To keep his cities, tranquil, from the rage
And powerful influence of surrounding foes;
To foster genius, ignorance to depose,
The arts encourage, his fond Court present
With joyous pageants, plays, and splendid shows;
Deal with just hand reward and punishment,
Evils uncome foresee, and seen, with ease prevent.

“And O, if e’er against the race whose crimes
Th’ infested seas and ravaged shores pollute, —
Tyrants that force in those unhappy times
Illumined nations humbly to make suit
To them for peace, — he march to execute
Justice for fanes down -tumbled, treasure wreck’d,
And violated shrines, in that dispute
What heavy vengeance may they not expect
On the barbarian king and his accursed sect!

“In vain the Turk against his marshall’d ranks,
In vain the Moor might muster band on band;
For far beyond Euphrates’ willow’d banks,
The snows of Taurus, and the happy land
Where dwells perpetual sunshine, would his hand
Advance the Golden Lilies, loose the wing
Of the White Eagle, the furl’d Cross expand,
And, by due baptism of each Negro king,
Compel imperial Nile to show his secret spring!”

Thus spoke the Senior; the rapt youth took heed
Of all he utter’d, and with transport fed
On the fair promise of his future seed,
Which o’er his mind a sweet sereneness shed.
Meanwhile before the break of morn fast fled
The twilight hours; Aurora, dropping dew,
Advanced, and touch’d the heavens with rosy red;
And now the trembling of the flags that flew
On the high tents far-off, distinctly met their view.

Then thus again the Sage: “These shadows brown
See how the sun disperses! and displays,
The tents, the plain, the mountains and the town,
With the kind comment of his grateful rays!
O’er unknown tracks, by unobstructed ways,
Safe, without danger or delay, nor slow,
Here have I brought you; you yourselves may trace
Your onward way, nor fear a single foe:
Thus then we part; farewell! no farther must I go.”

Embracing, they depart; and straight pursue
On foot their journey with the crimson cloud
That, floating eastward, a rich radiance threw
On tent, and silent crag, and rampart proud.
Fame flew before them, and divulged aloud
The Barons’ wish’d arrival; wide and fleet
The news was borne amidst the cheering crowd;
Godfrey, thus advertised, his ducal seat
Left, and with stately step went forth the youth to meet.