Book XVIII

Arrived where Godfrey to salute him stood,
Rinaldo spoke: “Revengeful discontent
And jealous honor spurr’d me to my feud
With dead Gernando, which I much repent;
And ’tis with sorrow still for that event
And thy displeasure that I seek thy face;
Now at the instance of thine envoys sent
For my recall, I come, the stain t’ efface
By whatsoe’er good deeds may win me back thy grace.

Low as he kneel’d before him Godfrey cast
His arms around his neck, and kindly said;
“No more revive the melancholy past;
In peace repose the memory of the dead!
And no amends I seek for phrensy fled,
Than that thy wonted valor be renew’d, —
That, for the ruin of the foe, thou tread
Enchanted ground, and, for the general good,
From spells and monsters free th’ inviolable wood.

“That immemorial forest whence of late
We drew our timbers, is defended now,
I know not from what cause, by charms innate,
Deep, strong, and dreadful to the boldest brow;
Nor is there one that dares disturb a bough,
Much less a single sapling of the grove
Touch with the axe; yet without engines, how
Can we the city take? yea! risks which move
To fear our stoutest hearts, will now thy courage prove.

The youth accepts the risk and toil, without
Much protestation, but with an address
So full of dignity, that none can doubt
From his laconic speech his sure success.
Then to his other noble friends that press
Affectionately near him, he bestows
His courteous hand; and now with cheerfulness
Embraces Guelpho, Tancred now, and throws
Kind nods to all the chiefs that round his person close.

When many a welcome, many a dear embrace
He to the sov’reign princes had bestow’d,
With like familiar love and gentle grace
He took the greetings of th’ inferior crowd:
With martial shouts these testified aloud
Their joy, and throng’d as thickly to his side,
As if, by elephants or leopards proud
Drawn in high triumph, he had tamed the pride
Of all the realms through which the Nile and Ganges glide.

Thus hail’d, to his pavilion he retires,
And entertains his dearest friends around;
And much to them replies, and much inquires
Both of the war and of the charmed ground.
But when, all leaving him, the Hermit found
Leisure for serious talk, he spoke, and said;
“Great things are those, young Voyager renown’d,
Which to thy pilgrim eyes have been display’d,
And long the wondrous tract o’er which thy steps have stray’d!

“How great thy debt to the Celestial King,
Who thus redeems thee from the charmer’s den!
Nor spares, with all a shepherd’s love, to bring
Back the lost lamb into his holy pen;
That now, by Godfrey’s voice, he makes again
Thee second agent in his high design!
Yet art thou changed; not pure of heart, as when
Thou last waged war, and, lain so long supine,
Thou mayst not yet engage in service so divine.

“Darkness, the world, the flesh, spiritual sin
With such infectious stains thy soul defile,
No earthly spring can wash thy conscience clean,
The streams of Ganges, or the floods of Nile.
The secret source of what in thee is vile
Heaven’s grace alone can fitly purge away;
Turn to thy Saviour then, in lowly style
Ask for forgiveness, all thy sins display,
Cling to the Cross in faith, weep, tremble, praise, and pray.”

He said; and first the youth bewail’d his fall,
His amorous follies, and fierce wrath; then kneel’d
Contritely at the Hermit’s feet, and all
His youthful crimes and levities reveal’d.
This done, the minister of Heaven repeal’d
His sins, and absolution gave; then said, —
“Seek now, by prayer to have thy pardon seal’d,
When next the morning o’er the world is spread,
The hill that on the East rears high its reverend head.

“Then to the haunted Forest march, where dwell
Such frightful phantoms and gigantic things;
Thou wilt, I know, those fiends and furies quell,
If no fresh error thy tuned soul unstrings.
Let no strange voice that mourns, or sweetly sings,
No smile of ruby lips or radiant eyes
Steal to thy heart and touch fond pity’s springs
With their bewitching beauty, but despise
All their fond aspects feign’d, false tears, and fancied.

Thus the Sage counsels, and the ardent knight
Prepares with hope for the sublime emprise;
Thoughtful he spends the day, and sad the night,
And ere the breaking morn begins to rise,
Girds on his beautiful bright arms; applies
The falchion to his side, and o’er his mail
Throws a new mantle prank’d with rarest dyes;
Leaves the warm friends that, as he passes, veil
Their plumes, and all alone treads slow the silent dale.

It was the hour when, grieving to be gone,
Night on the confines of the day still slept;
The East grew rosy with the flame of morn,
Yet still some stars her radiant portal kept.
When, as to Olivet the sward he swept,
And as his serious eyes, to heaven inclined,
Mark’d, with the spangling tears which Night had wept,
The incorruptible pure lights that shined
On high, — to solemn thoughts he gave his musing mind.

“O,” to himself he thought, “how many bright
And glorious fires heaven’s vaulted temple fret!
Day has his car, her golden stars the Night,
And the round silver moon, more radiant yet.
But we, nor these nor those revering, set
On the pale meteors which a flashing eye,
A brilliant smile, or glowing canzonet,
Strike from the twilight of our transient sky,
Our inconsiderate hearts, — gaze, grieve, admire, and die!”

And musing thus, awed, melted, and abased,
He reach’d the summit clothed with mountain thyme;
Above the heaven of heavens his thoughts were raised,
And thus, his face turn’d to the Orient clime,
Kneeling, he pray’d; “The errors of my prime,
O holy Father! in thy mercy, view
With the mild eye of clemency; sublime
My low desires; the evil seed subdue;
And in my soul be pleased thine image to renew!”

Thus as he pray’d, with blushing roses crown’d
The radiant Morn appears; which with its sheen
His helm, his arms, and all the mountain round
At once illumed, and golden turn’d the green.
Fresh on his bosom and bent brow serene,
He felt the spirit of that peaceful hour,
Fann’d with its wing; while o’er his head unseen,
Shook from Aurora’s lap, distilled a shower
Of dew more pure than e’er bespangled blade or bower.

The dew celestial on his garments fell,
Which show’d as ashes to a tint so bright;
Illumined so, they look no longer pale,
But change their color to a shining white.
So the scorch’d summer flowers, at morning light
Steep’d in fresh dews, their wither’d bells unfold,
With added beauty; so, to the delight
Of a new youth return’d, after long cold,
The joyful snake shines out, new flourish’d o’er with gold.

The lively whiteness of his alter’d vest,
Seen by himself, he ceased not to admire;
Then to the old gray forest swift he press’d,
. With a firm boldness and sublime desire.
He reach’d that bosky wilderness of brier
And bough, the sight alone whereof dismay’d,
And forced less valiant champions to retire;
Yet saw he nothing in the wood, that made
So much a frightful gloom, as a delightful shade.

He passes onward — the charm works; a sound
Sweet as the air of Paradise upsprings;
Hoarse roars the shallow brook; the leaves around,
Sigh to the flutt’ring of the light wind’s wings;
Her ravishing sweet dirge the cygnet sings,
Loud mourn the answering nightingales; sad shells,
Flutes, human voices tuned to golden strings,
And the loud singing organ’s glorious swells, —
Such and so various sounds one single sound expels.

He was expecting, like the rest, to meet
The strange wild groans and thunders of dismay,
And lo, a symphony of sirens sweet,
Birds, winds, and waters, for his pleasure play!
Wond’ring he checks his steps, — they melt away,
And on he walks, but circumspect and slow;
And naught occurs to interrupt his way,
But a transparent flood, whose waters go
Through the green wood, serene, and silent in their flow.

Flowers and choice odors richly smiled and smell’d,
On either side of the calm stream, which wound
In a so spacious circle, that it held
The whole vast forest in its charming round;
Nor only with green bowers and garlands crown’d
The compass in its keep, — a streamlet stray’d
Through this sweet isle, enlivening all the ground;
Most delightful interchange they made:
The mild wave bathes the woods, the woods the wave o’ershade.

While he roved round to find a ford, behold,
A wondrous passage to his wish appear’d!
An exquisite rich bridge of shining gold
Spann’d the pure waves, on stable arches rear’d;
The golden bridge he pass’d, the water clear’d,
But had no sooner touch’d the farther shore,
Than the whole glorious fabric disappear’d;
And the sweet river, so serene before,
To a vast torrent swell’d, that stunn’d him with its roar.

He turns his face, and sees it swoln and spread,
Like a strong flood increased by melting snows;
And, whirling round as to its fountain head,
A thousand rapid curls and gulfs it shows;
But, curious of new objects, on he goes
Through the brown arches thick of aged trees,
That now on every side his steps enclose;
And in these savage glooms, to strike or please,
A.t every strange new turn, some strange new wonder sees.

Where’er he plants his foot some charm springs out,
The wild brook warbles, or the sweet turf flowers;
There lilies open, here young roses sprout,
There the shrill fountain falls in silver showers;
And round, o’erhead, th’ austere and aged bowers
Renew their youth, — the hoary bark is seen
To soften, the moss falls, the gray trunk towers,
Each bough its buds, each leaf renews its green, —
Mild shines the summer sun, and decks th’ enchanted.

Impearl’d with manna was each fresh leaf nigh;
Honey and golden gums the rude trunks weep;
Again is heard that strange wild harmony
Of songs and sorrows, plaintive, mild, and deep;
But the sweet choirs that still such tenor keep
With the swans, winds, and waves, no ear can trace
To their conceal’d abode in shade or steep;
Nor harp, nor horn, nor form of human face,
Look where he would, was seen in all the shady place.

While his eye wanders, and his mind denies
Trust to the truths his charm’d ear recommends,
He sees far off a wondrous myrtle rise,
Where in a spacious plain the pathway ends;
To this he walks; its boughs the plant extends
Wide as the choice tree of Dodonian Jove, —
O’er pine, and palm, and cypress it ascends;
And, towering thus all other trees above,
Looks like th’ elected queen and genius of the grove.

Scarce had the hero reach’d the spacious field
Than stranger novelties his eye arrest;
He sees an oak, self-aided, cleave, and yield
Spontaneous offspring from its fruitful breast:
A full-grown nymph, in gown and turban dress’d,
On whose ripe cheek celestial beauty blooms,
O wonder! issues from that hoary chest;
A hundred other girls from sylvan wombs
A hundred others child, amidst the circling glooms.

As the stage shows, or as we painted see
The sylvan Goddess, with her white arms barb,
With hunting weeds tuck’d up above the knee,
Buskins of blue, and loose luxuriant hair, —
Just such, to all appearance, are the fair
Fictitious daughters of these wild- woods old;
Save, that for horns, to wake some sprightlier air,
Quivers, and bended bows, they in their hold
Have viols, lutes, and harps, of ivory, pearl, and gold.

Ranging themselves into a ring, their hands
They knit together, and with joyous cheer
Dance round about Rinaldo as he stands
The willing centre of this moving sphere:
The tree they compass too, and carol clear,
As in light morrice to the charm they move;
“Welcome, thrice welcome, gallant chevalier!”
They sing, “our Lady’s hope, our Lady’s love:
In blessed horn all hail to this delightful grove!

“Timely thou com’st to cure her, wounded sore
With am’rous thoughts and languishing desires;
These groves, so dark and desolate before,
Her grief’s fit dwelling, choked with thorns and briery,
Lo, at thy coming what quick joy inspires
Each tree and leafy bough! how redolent
They breathe, dress’d freshly in their green attires!”
Such was the song, and from the myrtle went
First a melodious sound, and then the sylvan rent.

A rude Silenus oft the days of old
Have seen unclose, and yield some Goddess fair,”
But never yet did sylvan image hold
Charms such as issued from the myrtle rare:
For forth a Lady stepp’d with golden hair,
With angel beauty, angel mien and grace;
In whom, albeit of visionary air,
Rinaldo starts Armida’s form to trace,
The same expressive eye, fond smile, and radiant face.

Sorrow and joy into her looks she cast,
A thousand passions, which one glance betrays;
“And art thou then indeed return’d at last
To thy forsaken love,” she pensive says;
“Why com’st thou hither, my beloved? to raise
My drooping soul, and with remember’d charms
Solace my widow’d nights and lonely days?
Or to wage war, and scare me with alarms?
Why hide thy lovely face? why show these threat’ning arms?

“Com’st thou a foe or friend? I did not rear
That glorious bridge to entertain my foe;
Unlock’d not brooks, flowers, fountains, made not clear
For him that wilderness of brambles — no!
Take now, take off this horrid helmet, show
Thy face for friendly, glad me with the shine
Of those celestial eyes; say, why so slow?
Kiss me, embrace me, oh my love! I pine;
Or. press at least once more my cold, cold hand in thine.

Thus as she woos, her beautiful bright eyes
Rueful she rolls, and pale as death appears;
Feigning, with ev’ry tear, the sweetest sighs,
And melancholy moans, and bashful fears.
It might have moved a heart of stone to tears,
To hear how fondly she herself deplored;
But he, unmoved by all he sees and hears,
Cautious, not cruel, to the plaints she pour’d
No longer pays regard, but draws his fatal sword.

The myrtle he approach’d; but she with fright
The dear trunk clasping, interposed, and cried;
“Mercy, ah mercy! do me not such spite,
As to cut down my myrtle-tree, the pride
And last poor solace of forlorn Armide;
Put up thy sword, O consort most unkind!
Or sheath it, cruel, in thy lady’s side;
For through this only it shall passage find,
To strike my lovely tree and hurt its hallow’d rind!”

Deaf to her prayers, he rears his sword, and she
Transforms herself as swift; as when at night
Our dreams, ne’er constant to the thing we see,
Shift the fond object we had first in sight;
Gross grew her members, dark her face, upright
Her horrent hair; gone by are all her charms,
White breast, and rosy cheek, — enlarged in height,
A giantess, she glows with feign’d alarms,
Like fell Briareus, limb’d with full one hundred arms.

With fifty swords she fought; on fifty shields
She clash’d defiance, bluster’d, roar’d, and bray’d;
Each other nymph the like weird weapons wields,
A frowning Cyclop, a gigantic Shade!
He fear’d them not, but with his waving blade
On the charm’d myrtle multiplied his blows,
Which at each stroke distressful moanings made;
Air seem’d a hell in hubbub, awful shows
Throng’d the black sky, and ghosts in swarms on swarms arose.

Thunder’d the flashing heavens above, the ground
Groan’d underneath, — that bellow’d, and this shook;
While the loosed winds and tempests blust’ring round,
Blew the sharp sleet and hailstones in his look;
Yet not for this the knight his post forsook,
His aim he miss’d not, changed not in his cheer,
But the more fiercely for their fury strook; —
’Tis done! the myrtle falls; th’ enchantments drear
Flit with the ended spell; the phantoms disappear.

Air still, the heavens serene, the woods resume
Their wonted quiet and sequester’d state;
Not terrible, nor cheerful, full of gloom
From palm and cypress, but a gloom innate.
The Victor tries again if as of late
Aught yet forbade the felling of the trees,
And finding nothing check his sword, sedate
Smiles and says inly; “O vain semblances!
O fools, to be deterr’d by shadows false as these I”

Then to the Camp he turns; meanwhile aware
Of these events, the solitary Seer
Exclaim’d; “The charm is o’er, the forest fair
Of evil spirits, and the victor near;
See where he comes!” and now distinguished clear
In his pure mantle from afar, the knight
Struck the spectators with a holy fear;
For the spread pinions of his eagle white
In the clear sunshine shone with unaccustom’d light.

With glad huzzas for victory achieved
Rang the wide hills around, and skies above;
The conqu’ring knight by Godfrey is received
With praise unmix’d by envy, and with love.
“Sire,” said Rinaldo, “to the dreadful grove,
As you desired, I went; the sprites impure
I saw — I saw and conquer’d them; improve
Th’ occasion then, the ways are quite secure,
Send then the workmen forth, the timbers to procure.”

Straight to the aged woods they went and hew’d
What Art thought proper for the task in hand;
The first artificers in skill were rude,
And little did machinery understand:
But now a noble mechanician plann’d
The important works, selected well the trees,
And every movement of the workmen scann’d, —
William — who lately with his Genoese
Roved the Levantine waves, sole Signior of the seas.

But, forced before th’ Egyptian fleet at length
His azure kingdom of the sea to quit,
He to the Camp transferr’d his naval strength;-
To frame such works was never man more fit;
For an ingenious brain, a fruitful wit,
Industrious hand and scientific mind,
To him almost might Daedalus submit;
A hundred meaner architects combined
To execute the schemes his genius now design’d.

He undertook to build, not vines alone,
Balista?, rams, and catapults, of power
To batter down defended walls of stone,
And on high bulwarks rain an arrowy shower,
But, plank’d with pine and fur, a wondrous tower,
The masterpiece of art; and, to provide
Against th’ adhesive flames that might devour
The timbers else, he lined it well outside
With fire -proof skins of sheep and quilts of tough bull-hide.

The separate beams and timbers, mortised tight,
Are join’d, completed is the pile; below,
Swings the vast ram, which with its horned might
Threats at each stroke the city to o’erthrow;
Its waist lets down a bridge, which falling slow,
Work’d by a windlass, joins th’ opposing wall,
And forms an instant passage to the foe;
While from the top a second tower less tall,
Inly conceal’d, at need shoots up o’ergazing all.

With little cost of toil th’ enormous mass
Upon its hundred wheels volubil roll’d,
Though bearing, arm’d in brigandine of brass,
A little army in its spacious hold;
Round stood the soldiers, marvelling to behold
With what consummate ease the workmen plied
Their several tasks; much they their skill extoll’d,
Much the vast engine; two more towers beside,
Plann’d like the first, were built, ere yet the daylight died.

But neither were their works nor their designs
From the mew’d Pagans meanwhile wholly hid;
For on the wall that to the Camp inclines,
Keen spies were placed, to notice all they did:
These, though the distance insight clear forbid,
Saw what vast loads of cypress, pine, and yew,
Were from the sable forest drawn amid
The tents; they mark’d the rising engines too,
But of their shape and plan no clear conception drew.

They too frame engines, and with equal art
The towers and bulwarks fortify again,
And raise so high the fortress on the part
Last storm’d, the brunt of battle to sustain,
That now, as fondly they suppose, no train
Of circumstance, or force of arms will e’er
Avail, th’ assaulted city to obtain;
While dark Ismeno studies to prepare
Beyond all else, fresh fires, unusual, strange, and rare.

With sulphur did the cursed Magician mix
Bitumen, from the lake of Sodom brought,
Brimstone, received, it strikes me, from the Styx,
And fiery spume, in hell by demons wrought;
And thus composed a cruel fire, so fraught
With smoke and stench, that, darted in the face,
Whom once it strikes it stifles; well, he thought,
By these revenging fireballs to efface,
For the enchanted wood cut down, his late disgrace.

While thus to win or to defend the wall
Both hosts their engines frame, a turtle dove
In the blue firmament is seen of all
To pass, the Christian multitude above:
With outspread wings the liquid air she clove,
And went away as lightly as the wind;
This wand’ring, mute communicant of love,
So soon as she had left the camp behind,
Down from the lofty clouds t’ accost the town inclined.

When lo! they knew not whence, a falcon arm’d
With hooked beak and talons, sail’d in sight;
Which, ’twixt the city and the camp, alarm’d
Th’ opposed mild bird in her descending flight:
She waited not his truss; but, full of fright,
On instant wing to the pavilions fled,
And at the moment when the cruel kite,
Down stooping swift, just touch’d her tender head,
In Godfrey’s bosom fen, betwixt alive and dead.

Godfrey the bird protected, and espied,
As he her plumage smooth’d, a curious thing;
For from the neck, by flax of Egypt tied,
A letter hung, conceal’d beneath her wing.
Marvelling to see it, he untwines the string,
And breaks the seal; then well he comprehends
The purpose of the scroll: “To Judah’s king,”
Thus spoke th’ inscription, “to his first of friends,
Health, honor, joy, and peace th’ Egyptian Caliph sends!

“Fear not, my noble lord! resist, endure,
Till the fourth day, or till the fifth at most;
For by that period thou shalt see, besure,
My slaught’ring sword devour the hostile host.”
Such was the secret in the note enclosed,
In Syriac ciphers writ, and seal’d with care,
Given in commission to this flying post;
For in the East these couriers of the ah,
Train’d to the trusty charge, were then by no means rare.

The bird he freed; she, cooing her concern
That her lord’s secrets had been thus betray’d,
Durst not, though innocent of ill, return
A rebel back, but fled far thence afraid.
Godfrey the intercepted scroll display’d
Before the lords and princes that compose
His military Council; “See,” he said,
“How well the goodness of our God foreshows
To us the close designs and secrets of our foes!

“We must no longer now protract the time,
But clear away fresh outworks; we must spare
No sweat, no labor, no fatigue to climb
The South-West walls; ’tis true, the crags are there
Steep, sharp, and high, nor apt, I am aware,
For the approach of arms and engines; still
It may be done: I have survey’d with care
The coast, and find that, strengthen’d by the hill,
Those towers have been defenced with little cost of skill.

“Thou, Raymond, with thy men the crags ascend,
And storm those walls, while I with all the state
And pomp preparative of battle, bend
My horned rams against the northern gate;
So that the foe, beguiled t’ anticipate
In arms our principal bombardment there,
May leave me free hereafter to translate
My tower that slides so easily, to bear
Ruin, and dread, and death, and victory elsewhere.

“At the same time, Camillo, thou close by,
Or not far off, the third tower must dispose:”
He said, and good Count Raymond who sate nigh,
And as he spoke weigh’d well each accent, rose
And said; “This counsel no one can oppose,
’Tis given in perfect wisdom, the event
Will surely prove it such; I would propose
Alone that some one midst our foes be sent,
Into their plans to pry, and creep from tent to tent; —

“Number their troops, and with instinctive wit
Fathom their thoughts, as far as in him lies:”
Said Tancred then, “I have a Squire most fit
For the exploit, the very prince of spies;
Quick, subtle, dexterous, he has Argus eyes
For such concerns; shrewd, supple, light of toe;
Bold too, but in his boldness close and wise;
And many tongues he talks, and varies so
His gesture, voice, and gait, that none the man can know.”

Sent for, he came; and soon as he had heard
Duke Godfrey’s pleasure and his lord’s, was won
To their desire; he, smiling, with a word
The task embraced, and said, “My Lords, I’m gone;
Into their unsuspicious camp anon
Enter I will, and pay implicit heed
To all their motions, recognised by none;
E’en at midnoon through all the host proceed,
And number every man, and number every steed.

“Their hosts, their squadrons, and the arms they bring
I pledge myself to notice; nay, I vow
The closest thoughts and counsels of the king
To win adroitly from him, — ask not how.”
Thus with bold air Vafrino spoke; and now
Stay’d but to bare his graceful neck, to wind
Long rolls of linen round his manly brow,
Change for a mantle his juppon, and bind
Round has broad waist a belt, a quiver hang behind.

And thus accoutred, in his dexter hand
A Syrian bow, with gestures nothing meek,
He seems a pure barbarian, and all stand
In absolute amaze to hear him speak
Such various tongues, so that in Greece a Greek,
In Tyre a true Phoenician, in the waste
Of marbled Tadmor an Arabian sheik
All would have thought him; off he rides in haste,
On a swift steed that scarce disturb’d the sands it paced.

But ere the third day shone, the Franks had strain’d
Each nerve to smooth the rough uneven ways,
Finish’d their engines, and in fact maintain’d
One ceaseless vigil of fatigue; the days
Alone sufficed them not; but by the blaze
Of piny torches did they task the night
With toil, disdaining sleep: to Godfrey’s gaze,
All was now ready with the morning light
To prove the last extremes and fortunes of the fight.

The Chief great part of the preceding day
Had spent in prayer, and had employ’d the priest
To shrive the army of their sins, that they
Might share with him the sacramental feast.
Then to the parts where he intended least
To stand the brunt of battle, he applied
His rams and mighty engines, which increased
The blinded Pagans’ transport, hope, and pride,
Seeing them face the gate most strongly fortified.

But when the night had spread her raven pall,
The huge light tower he spirited away,
To where less strong and crooked show’d the wall,
And jutting angles less forbade the play
Of the strong ram; his armed tower ere day
Raymond too planting on the hill’s tall crest,
Took the whole city in his broad survey;
While his Camillo to that point address’d,
Where from the north the wall wheels, round to front the west.

When now the roseate messenger of morn
Had tipp’d the eastern hills and towers with light,
The Pagans stared to see the tower withdrawn
Far from the spot where it stood overnight,
And seeing trembled; to the left and right
New structures also, mann’d and managed well,
Till now unnoticed, burst upon their sight,
With countless fresh machines, — balistae fell,
Cat, scorpion, crossbow, ram, war-wolf, and mangonel.

The Syrian people, though depress’d at heart
By this deception, were by no means slack
Thither to move their engines from the part
Where first Duke Godfrey menaced the attack;
But he meanwhile, aware that at his back
Th’ Egyptian army march’d, thus gave command
To Guelph and the two Roberts; “On the track
That leads to Gaza, station each a band
Of horse, and toward the south watch well, with sword in hand.

“And have regard, that while I storm the part
Where the gray battlements most weak appear,
No sudden squadron, with insidious art,
Bring round the rage of battle to my rear.”
He said; three times the trumpet tubes blew drear;
To the three sounds, three valiant nations made
On three sides horrible assault severe, —
’Gainst each of which, the king in brave parade
Of arms long laid aside, his hostile powers array’d.

Cased in old arms, and with the weight of age,
Not fear of danger trembling, forth he goes,
Long lost to war, Count Raymond to engage,
The most sagacious of his numerous foes:
The Soldan strides Duke Godfrey to oppose,
Argantes good Camillo, at whose side
Stands Bohemond’s brave nephew; fortune chose,
Or rather Providence, the Prince to guide
Thus to the destined foe whose blood his falchion dyed.

Straight the strong arches from their bows let fly
Ten thousand mortal barbs with poisonous stings;
That underneath a cloud of shafts, the sky —
Grows dark, as though beneath the night’s black wings.
But blows of more tremendous force from slings
And huge balistse come, with ruder shocks;
For thence fly, every time the huge ram swings,
Stones, rugged masses of uprooted rocks,
Trees shod with pointed steel, lead, marble, logs, and blocks.

Each stone a thunderbolt appears, and so
Where it alights, the arms and members breaks,
Not life alone and spirit from the blow,
But form and feature e’en the man forsakes;
The long lance stays not in the wound it makes,
But onward still, still on long after hies;
Piercing the warrior’s coat of mail, it takes
Its course right through him, as he fights or flies;
He feels the piercing point, and as it passes, dies.

Yet cannot all this force and fury drive
The desperate Pagans to forsake the wall;
Still to their arms resolved they stand, and strive
Or to revenge each charge, or to forestall!
Against the strokes of the strong ram, they call
For bales of pliant wool, which from on high
They hang, and deaden thus the blows that fall,
And where the Franks show most exposed and nigh,
With thousand thousand shafts give back a proud reply.

Yet still the Franks, arranged in closest file,
Move on three sides the ramparts to assail,
And underneath the cat and tortoise, smile
To hear the sounding storm of arrowy hail.
To the high walls, despite the men in mail
That line their battlements, the towers are led,
And strive to launch, albeit at first they fail,
Their light pontons; while, work’d beneath its shed,
Bats the bombarding ram with adamantine head.

. Irresolute meanwhile Rinaldo stands,
This risk and that were far too poor a praise;
And ’twould be base in him with armed bands
To bear his flag by plain and beaten ways;
Debating thus, he casts around his gaze, —
That path alone at which all else would halt,
It pleases him to move in; he surveys
The loftiest walls their battlements exalt,
Warr’d on by none, — ’tis there he will begin th’ assault.

And turning to the troop — famed heroes all —
Whom Dudon lately led, he made exclaim;
“What, my compeers! shall then this old gray wall
In the grand wrack repose in peace? O shame
To generous knighthood, chivalry, and fame!
Each hazard to the Brave assurance yields,
And all steep paths are plain to those who aim
At praise, — come on then; quick! join shield to shield,
And to their cruel shafts a stubborn tortoise build.

Swift at the word all join with him, all cast
Their targets o’er their heads in brave disdain;
And, man thus wedged with man, compacted fast,
Form a tight penthouse that defies the rain
Of stones and arrows, under which amain
They speed the rapid march no rage can stay;
For well the iron tortoise does sustain
All the huge weights that with tempestuous sway
From the throng’d walls descend, to bar their onward way.

The walls are reach’d; and now Rinaldo rears
Aloft a scaling ladder with a flight
Of full two hundred steps, which he appears
To move and manage with an ease as light,
As winds the willow; from the rampart’s height
Now rocks, now spears, now beams down thundering go;
Yet upward still ascends the dauntless knight,
By each rebuff unscared, unmoved, although
They should Olympus down, or piny Ossa throw.

A wood of arrows on his shield alights,
A very mount of fragments, steel and stone,
On his strong back; one arm the bulwark smites,
And one the guardian target o’er the cone
Of his bright helm suspends; the courage shown
By him excites his brave compeers no less
To deeds of daring; he mounts not alone;
Numbers beside with ladders forward press,
And climb, with various turns of valor and success.

One dies — another falls — he mounts sublime,
These his praise cheers, and those his threats alarm:
And to a height so lofty does he climb,
That now he grasps with his extended arm
The topmost battlements; vast numbers swarm
Round the young knight with dagger, axe, and brand,
To smite and hurl him down: but him no harm
Repels, — O wonderful! a single hand,
Hung in mid air, has power arm’d thousands to withstand.

Not only he withstands, but livelier grows,
And like the palm-tree when by weights oppress’d,
More strong and valiant from resistance shows,
His pulse beats brisker, loftier shoots his crest.
Some of his foes he slew, dispersed the rest,
The spars and stones that on his buckler weigh’d
Shook off, leap’d o’er the battlements, possess’d
The walls he wish’d, and with his ruling blade
Safe for his following friends the obstructed passage made:

And to the youngest brother of the brave
And virtuous Godfrey, just about to fall,
His kind victorious hand Rinaldo gave,
And help’d him second so to scale the wall.
Godfrey meanwhile, whom nothing could appal,
In other quarters various fortunes proved,
Nor were the perils he encounter’d small;
For there not knight alone with knight approved
His strength, but tower ’gainst tower, ’gainst engine engine moved.

And there the Syrians had uprear’d a pine
That once had served some admiral for a mast,
And hung thereto, by many a twisted line
To a huge transverse beam on high made fast,
A long steel-headed ram, stout, rude, and vast,
Which backward drawn by cords, tempestuous fell,
And shatter’d all at which its front was cast;
By turns the beam they pull, by turns propel,
As the snail now shrinks in, now creeps from forth its shell.

Beats the huge beam, and on the tower so sore
Doubles its loud percussions, as to smite
Some paces back the pile, with all it bore,
And many a mortised rafter disunite:
The tower, for ev’ry exigence of fight
Prepared, brook’d not the sounding insult long,
But from within, till now conceal’d from sight,
Launch’d out two scythes, large, crooked, sharp, and strong,
And cut the cords on which th’ enormous engine swung.

As a huge rock, which age or stormy winds
Uproot or loosen from some mountain steep,
Rolls headlong down, and into thin dust grinds
Woods, houses, hamlets, herds, and flocks of sheep;
So fell the frightful beam with giant leap,
Hideous, enormous, bearing to the ground
Arms, men, and turrets in its stormy sweep:
Shake the firm ramparts; rocks the tower; and round,
The hills and hollow glens rebellow back the sound.

All sanguine now to win the wall advanced
The conqu’ring Chief; but suddenly he sees
Thick noisome clouds of flame sulphureous lanced
Against him, favor’d by the driving breeze:
Ne’er did Mount Etna send forth flames like these,
Dispensing death from her cavernous womb;
Nor e’er did Indian skies, when most disease
And fervent summer fill’d the air with gloom,
Rain such thick vapors down, mute Nature to consume.

Here globes of wild-fire, there fly burning spears;
This flame burns black, that bloody red; the smell
Poisons, the thunder deafens all their ears,
Smoke blinds their eyes, fires scorch them, hot as hell;
Not long can e’en the moist bull-hides repel
Their fierceness, scarcely do they now defend
The tower, already they begin to swell;
They reek, they shrink, and with the blaze must blend;
Height’ning its ardent rage, if Heaven no succor send.

Still in the front of all the Duke abides,
Nor changes color, countenance, or place;
But cheers on those, who from the shriv’ling hides
With water strive th’ advancing fires to chase.
Thus went the war; thus urgent stood their case;
Their well-used water disappearing fast,
The gath’ring flames they could no longer face;
When on the sudden rose a friendly blast,
And the fierce wild-fire back upon its authors cast.

The winds fought with the flames, and backward blew
The fires; for where the foe their sheds had rear’d,
Upon the soft materials swift it flew,
Which kindled, crackled, blazed, and disappear’d.
O glorious Captain! to thy God
’d,
By thy God guarded! Heaven itself was found
Ranged on thy side; the very winds revered
Thy will, and, summon’d by thy trumpet’s sound,
Obedient rush’d to war from all their regions round.

But fell Ismene, who saw his sulph’rous fires
Forced back against him on the adverse gale,
By his black art, despite the winds, aspires
The laws of Nature yet to countervail;
Betwixt two hags, his vow’d attendants, pale
In his dark mantle, on the walls he rear’d
His hideous shape; and with his length of nail,
His squalid aspect, and dishevel!’ d beard,
Pluto himself between two Furies dire
’d.

And now were heard those awful sounds which fill
With deepest horror hell’s profoundest streams;
The winds already roar’d on ev’ry hill,
The sun in clouds withdrew his golden beams;
When sudden, frustrate of his impious schemes,
A stone, or rather rock, the tower robust,
As still th’ accursed wretch high Heaven blasphemes,
Hurl’d from its bowels with a stroke so just,
As bray’d at once their bones and bodies into dust.

To bloody dust minute their heads and brains
Were widely scatter’d with a roaring sound;
To bloody dust, minuter than the grains
Of corn to meal betwixt rough mill-stones ground;
With groans the three foul spirits leave the round
Of the blue heavens and fine ethereal sense
Of joy and sunshine, for the shades profound
Of hell; — learn, mortals, piety from hence,
Nor dare God’s slumbering wrath omnipotent incense!.

Meanwhile the engine rescued from the flame
By the kind whirlwind, to the city ran,
And, all resistance now defeated, came
So near the ramparts that its bridge began,
Launch’d, to attach; but thither Solyman
Rush’d on the instant; sharply did he ply
His strokes, and certainly th’ audacious man
Had hew’d it down, but suddenly his eye
Another tower beheld, uprising in the sky.

Th’ enormous pile shot up into the air
Far above spire, mosque, minaret, and tower;
So that the Pagans in their stupor stare
To see the city subject to its power.
But the fierce Turk still keeps his stand, though lower
The clouds of ruin round him; he derives
Strength from the strife: and, careless of the shower
Of stones, to cut the bridge still trusts, and strives;
And his despairing friends with glorying shouts revives.

Th’ archangel Michael, clad in arms divine,
To Godfrey then, but visible to none
Besides, appear’d; his face did far outshine,
When clear of ev’ry cloud, the noonday sun.
“Godfrey,” he cried, “the fated sands are run;
This is the hour to cancel with thy blade
The chains of Sion; thy desire is won!
Droop not, droop not thine eyes to earth, dismay’d,
But see what num’rous hosts I bring, thine arms to aid.

“Lift up thine eyes, and in mid air th’ immense,
Immortal army on its march survey!
For the dim veil that clouds your mortal sense,
And from the cradle to the tomb your clay
Wraps round with darkness, lo! I rend away,
That thou the angels in their shapes mayst see,
And, one short moment, the effulgent ray
Of their celestial essences, with free
Undazzled sight sustain, — long time it may not be.

“Observe the souls of ev’ry lord and knight,
Christ’s blessed saints, who late but champions were!
With what a holy zeal they seek the fight,
The final glory with thyself to share!
Lo! what mix’d clouds of smoke and dust in air
Fluctuate aloft from the dismantled town;
And lo, that lofty heap of ruins! there,
Hugo, conspicuous by his sapphire crown,
Heaves high his golden mace, and beats the huge towers down.

“Dudon is he who at the Northern fort,
Which he with fire and sword assaults, prepares
Arms for the Franks, nor ceases to exhort
Fresh knights to mount the tall scalades he bears;
That surpliced Saint who in his tresses wears
The sacerdotal crown, on yonder hill,
Is the bless’d soul of Ademar, — his cares
The same as erst; observe with what good-will,
He deals his pastoral signs and benedictions still.

“Look higher yet, and, witnessing the war
The whole hierarchy of heaven survey!”
He raised his eyes; and at one prospect saw,
In myriad numbers numberless, th’ array,
Three squadrons wing’d; each radiating away
In triple phalanx from th observer’s eye,
Ring beyond ring, — a beautiful display
Of winged orbs, that, widening as they fly
Sublime, possess the whole circumference of the sky.

Here he his dazzled eyes declined, nor more
The glorious vision in its pomp descried;
When next he look’d, the wondrous show was o’er,
And gazing round, he saw on every side
His troops victorious; many a hero vied
After divine Rinaldo to command
The walls, leap’d up, and deep his falchion dyed;
Godfrey, this seen, aloof disdain’d to stand,
But snatch’d the Red-Cross staff from his flag-bearer’s hand.

And passes first the bridge; but midway here
Finds the stem Soldan ready to debate
His farther passage; few their strokes, but clear
Their prowess, — a small plank the field of fate!
“Lo, here,” the Soldan shouts, “I consecrate,
Here yield my gallant spirit up this day,
For Sion’s good! So ho! my friends, I prate, —
Cut the ponton down at my back, and they
Shall have small cause to boast the pleasure of their prey!”

But when he saw far-off Rinaldo tend
Toward him, and all his friends in flight, he said;
“What now remains? if thus my life I spend,
To what advantage will my blood be shed?”
Revolving thus, with slow disdainful tread
He turn’d aside, and left the pass assay ’d
Free to the Chief: who, following as he fled
The Soldan’s footsteps, with his brandish’d blade,
High on the rampart walls the purple Cross display’d.

The glorious ensign in a thousand wreaths
And folds voluminous rejoicing twines;
It seems the wind on it more sweetly breathes;
It seems the sun on it more brightly shines;
That each toss’d javelin, each aim’d shaft declines
To strike the staff; the streets Hosannas sound;
Floods clap their hands, on mountains dance the pines;
Seems it that Sion, that her green hills crown’d,
Stoop from the clouds their crests, and bend adoring round.

Then raised the Christians all their long loud shout
Of Victory, joyful, resonant, and high;
Their words the towers and temples lengthen out;
To the glad sound the mountains make reply:
At the same moment, joining in the cry,
Tancred each strong obstruction overthrew
Raised by Argantes; brought his engine nigh,
Cast out his bridge, and, without more ado,
Leap’d on the conquer’d wall, and raised his standard too.

But on the hills toward the South, where fought
Raymond the hoary with the Syrian king,
The Gascon knights their engine had not brought
Yet to the walls, nor possibly could bring;
For there the Tyrant had in aid a ring
Of soldiery, the flower of all his host,
Who stubbornly with mace, with sword, and sling,
Stood to the strife; the walls too on that coast
Were, as less firm and high, with engines strengthen’d most.

Besides, on that steep side th’ enormous tower
Less steady footing for its passage found;
Nor could their utmost industry and power
Correct the rugged nature of the ground:
But when the shout from all the quarters round
Reach’d the two hosts that here the walls contest,
Both Aladine and Raymond by the sound
Were well assured that on the North and West,
The long defended town already was possess’d.

Which heard, the Count shouts to the knights he led;
“Taken already is th’ assaulted town;
And does it conquer us? shall it be said
We only share not in the day’s renown?”
But here the troubled king, quite desp’rate grown
Of the dispute, drew off his chivalry
To the strong-hold of his
’d Crown,
His last lorn hope, a fortress strong and high,
Where yet long time he trusts th’ assailants to defy.

Then the whole host pours in, not o’er the walls
Alone, but through the gates, which soon unclose,
Batter’d or burnt; and in wide ruin falls
Each strong defence that might their march oppose.
Rages the sword; and Death, the Slaught’rer, goes
’Twixt Wo and Horror with gigantic tread,
From street to street; the blood in torrents flows,
And settles in lagoons, on all sides fed,
And swell’d with heaps on heaps of dying and of dead.