Book X

While yet he spoke, a steed, from battle stray’d,
Came bounding up to him, on whose free rein
A hot and hasty hand the Soldan laid,
And leap’d across him, faint with toil and pain:
The dragon crest, that with such length of train
Of late in air rose dreadful, shorn away,
Leaves the proud helm undignified and plain;
Rent are his glorious robes, his trappings gay;
Nor has he left one sign of pomp or kingly sway.

As from the wattled pens the villain wolf
Chased out, scuds darkling to the forests hoar,
Which, though he well has fill’d the rav’nous gulf
Of his vast stomach with the flesh and gore
Of many a victim, thirsting yet for more,
Laps off the bloody froth his jaws distil,
With greedy tongue; e’en so the Soldan bore
From that night’s slaughter an unsated will,
For boundless fields of blood athirst and hung’ring still.

As was his fortune, from the drizzly cloud
Of sounding arrows that around him flew,
From groves of lances, ranks of swords, a crowd
Of hostile knights, securely he withdrew;
And ever as he rode, unknown to view,
The most untrod and wildest ways he sought;
While, unresolved what measure to pursue,
With each fresh billow of conflicting thought,
Fluctuates his stormy mind, still fixing, fix’d on naught.

At length to Egypt he resolved to hie,
Where now the Caliph his vast hosts array’d;
And, join’d with him, the arms and fate to try
Of a fresh conflict; this decision made,
In his mid course no longer he delay’d,
But with the speed his urgency demands,
Rode for the South; he needed none in aid,
To show the way where on the seashore sands,
Right strongly tower’d, the town of antique Gaza stands.

Nor, though sharp pangs upon his members seize,
And his weak frame grows weary, will he lay
His arms aside to taste the bliss of ease,
But in sore travel spends the total day,
Till from his sight the landscape swims away,
And shadows tinge the sky’s sweet colors brown;
He then alights; then swathes, as best he may,
His thrilling wounds; and from the lofty crown
Of overnodding palms ambrosial fruit shakes down.

And, thus refresh’d, on the bare earth he sought,
His head reclining on his shield, to gain
Rest to his wearied side, and still the thought,
The restless thought that tired his busy brain:
But every moment miserable pain
Stung the sick slumb’rer on his couch of thorn;
Oft a swift horror shot from vein to vein;
While by the inward vultures, Grief and Scorn,
His sad heart still was pierced, his liver fiercely torn.

At length, when Night had reach’d her deepest noon,
And lull’d in solemn trance all things around,
Conquer’d with weariness, in softest swoon
His vexing mem’ries and regrets he drown’d:
Brief languid quiet His shut eyelids crown’d,
And a benumbing torpor, dull but dear,
Its soothing coils about his members wound; —
While yet he slept, a sudden voice severe,
Toned like the thunder, thus resounded in his ear:

“Solyman! Solyman! this lazy rest
To a more suited time reserve; still groans
The land thou’st ruled — a weeping slave, oppress’d
Beneath the yoke of foreign myrmidons:
And sleep’st thou here, upon a soil that owns
So deep a vestige of thy late disgrace?
Hast thou the sad remembrance lost, whose bones
Untomb’d it holds? is it in such a place
That thou must idly wait to give the morning chase?”

The Soldan, waking, raised His eyes, and view’d
A man beneath a hundred winters bent;
Who, with a writhen staff from the wild wood.
Guided his feeble steps where’er he went:
“And who art thou?” he utter’d, malecontent,
“Officious goblin! whose ill ministry
Is — thus to haunt lone passengers o’erspent,
And scare off their brief sleeps? take wing, and flee!
What is my proud revenge, what my disgrace to thee!”

“I,” said the bearded Sire, “am one to whom
Is known in part the scope of your new scheme;
And as a friend more watchful of your doom
And cherished int’rests than you yet may deem,
I come; nor let my bitter sarcasm seem
Severe in vain; scorn is the quick’ning spur
Of virtue and ennobling self-esteem;
Let not my accents then, which serve to stir
The latent fire to flame, your anger thus incur.

“Though now (if I your purpose read aright)
Your steps to the Egyptian Court incline,
A dang’rous journey and a fruitless flight,
If yet you pause not in your rash design,
My mystic art, from many a hostile sign,
Predicts; since, whether you remain or go,
No less the forces of the Saracine
Will march; and there, what valor can you show,
Or how your genius use against our common foe?

“But, if you trust to me, within those walls
Which fast the Latin arms in leaguer gird,
In open day, and to the inmost halls
Of Salem, without sword, I pledge my word
To bring you safe, unnoticed and unheard;
There take your fill of glory and delight;
With arms and zeal to fit exploits transferr’d,
Defend her towers, till, to renew the fight,
The hosts of Egypt come, and conquest crowns your right!”

While thus he spoke, the fierce Turk with amaze
The ancient man’s electric aspect eyed;
His voice was like a spell; and from his face,
And from his savage mind all signs of pride
And rage he banished: “Father!” he replied,
“This instant I am ready, I am swift
To follow wheresoe’er thy will may guide;
That counsel’s best which promises to lift
My steps with most of toil to Danger’s loftiest clift!”

The Ancient praised his zeal, and straightway pour’d
Into his smarting wounds, which Night had chill’d,
A sovereign juice that soon his strength restored,
Stanch’d the red ichor, the sore bruises heal’d;
And, seeing now the sun begin to gild
The orient clouds yet purple from their play
Round young Aurora, “Rise from off thy shield!”
He said, “’tis time to go; since breaking day,
Which calls the world to toil, already lights our way.”

His magic car stood ready at command, —
They mount; the Stranger, shunning all delay,
Shook the rich reins, and with a master’s hand
Lash’d the black steeds, that, ramping, scour’d away
So swift, that not the sands a trace betray
Of hoof or wheel; they vanish as they come,
Proudly precipitant, and snort, and neigh,
Paw the parch’d soil, and, ardent for their home,
Champ their resplendent bits all white with fleecy foam.

Away! away! and still as fast and far
They fly, the air to clouds condensing roll’d
In heaps around, and draped th’ enchanted car,
Yet not a wreath could human eye behold;
Nor stone nor rock, (surprising to be told,)
Hurl’d from the most magnificent machine,
Might of its crapelike volume pierce the fold!
Yet by the two within were all things seen —
The clouds, air, earth, and sky, all rosily serene.

With wrinkling forehead and arch’d brow, the knight,
On cloud and car gazed stupidly intent, —
Its wheels seem’d wings, and its career a flight,
So swift and soundless on its way it went
O’er the smooth soil; the Sage plenipotent,
Who saw his raptured spirit stand aghast
At the sublime and mystical portent,
From his abstraction roused him; voice at last
Came to his lips, from which these eager questions pass’d.

“Whoe’er thou art that, passing mortal man,
Mak’st pliant Nature thus thy freaks fulfil,
Who, reading thought and purpose at a scan,
The heart’s close chambers rangest at thy will,
O! if it be within thy gifted skill,
Far peeping into Time, to see the shows
Of things yet dark, and spell their good or ill,
Say, prophet! say, what ruin or repose
Do the mysterious stars foredoom from Asia’s throes.

“But first thy name declare, and by what art
Thou work’st things thus beyond weak Fancy’s reach;
For, in this stupor of the mind and heart,
How else can I attend thy wondrous speech?”
The Wizard smiled; “Of that which you beseech,
Part I, at least,” said he, “will grant; one page
We may turn over, and its secrets teach;
Ismeno I, the Syrian Archimage,
Named from the magic arts in which I love t’ engage.

“But, Prince, to glance through dark futurity,
And of far fate th’ eternal leaves to read,
Were an attempt too arrogant and high,
Nor do the Heavens to man such power concede:
To face the ills and suff’rings here decreed,
All spirit, wisdom, strength, let each assume;
For oft the valorous and the wise succeed
In striking brightness from the deepest gloom,
And from the spheres shape out their own triumphant doom.

“For thee ’twill be a little thing, the powers
And pillars of Frank rule to shake; prepare
Not to flank only, nor to shield the towers,
Which those-fierce hosts with such unceasing care
Strongly enclose, — ’gainst steel, — ’gainst fire lay bare
Thine all unconquerable arms; be bold;
Hope all things, suffer all things, all things dare;
Myself hope much; to thee shall now be told,
What through the mist of years obscurely I behold.

“I seem to see, ere many an annual round
Yon dancing planet runs, a Chief arise,
Who shall grace Asia with his deeds renown’d,
And with the sceptre of the Ptolemies
Rule fruitful Egypt; on the policies,
Industrious arts, and blessings of his reign,
I’m mute, — their number pains my straining eyes:
This be content to know, the Christian chain
With equal scorn and strength his hand shall shake in twain.

“Yea! from its very base their rule unjust
Shall in his last proud field uprooted be;
And the lone remnant for their safety trust
A petty rock beside the howling sea,
Protected only by its waves; from thee
This Chief shall spring!” here hush’d the prophet’s voice;
“And O!” the Turk replied, “thrice happy he,
Destined to such a noble task!” the choice
His vulture thoughts half grudge, yet, while they grudge, rejoice.

“Let Fortune,” he subjoin’d, “for good or ill
Come or come not, as is prescribed on high,
She sways not me, but shall behold my will
Unconquer’d aye, and steadfast as the sky:
First shall the moon from her blue circuit fly;
First shall the stars’ immortal footsteps reel
From the path fix’d for them to tread, ere I
Swerve but a step to shun her whirling wheel!”
He said, and crimson turn’d, with scorn and fervent zeal.

Thus commune they; and now the plain they pass,
Near which their domes the white pavilions rear;
There what a cruel sight was seen! alas,
In what unnumber’d shapes did death appear!
To Solyman’s stern eyes a troubled tear
Of grief and passion rose at the survey,
And fill’d his face with gloom; afar and near,
In what wild havoc, how insulted, lay
His arms and ensigns, fear’d, so fear’d of yesterday!

He saw the Franks in carnival o’erspread
The field, oft trampling on the faces pale
Of his slain friends, as from th’ unburied dead
They tore the gorgeous vests and shirts of mail,
With rude insulting taunts: down the far vale,
In long, long order, many a fun’ral quire
Was seen attending with the voice of wail
Bodies beloved, while some brought careless fire,
And Turks and Arabs heap’d in one commingling pyre.

He deeply sigh’d, he drew his sword in rage,
And from his seat leap’d, eager in their blood
T’ avenge the insult; but the Archimage
His mad resolve inflexibly withstood;
And, curbing by rebuke His furious mood,
Made him perforce resume the seat resign’d;
Then to the loftiest hills his course pursued,
Baffling the rival pinions of the wind,
Until the hostile tents in distance sank behind.

Alighting then, the chariot disappear’d,
And side by side on foot the trav’lers went;
Still curtain’d in the cloud, their course they steered
Down a deep vale of difficult descent,
Till they arrived where to the Occident
Sublime Mount Sion turn’d its shoulders wide,
In rocks and cliffs fantastically rent;
There paused the Sorcerer, and its fissured side
Coasting from steep to steep, in close perusal eyed.

Scoop’d in the bosom of the living stone,
Time immemorial, yawns a hollow grot,
Whose mouth, from long disuse, was overgrown
With briers and herbs that mantled all the spot,
By all but the Magician long forgot;
He clear’d the way, the entrance he explored,
And, bending low his body, scrupled not
Darkling to creep into the cave, unawed,
Holding his right hand out to guide the Turkish lord.

Out then spake Solyman; “What uncouth cave
Is this, through which my stealing steps must glide?
Far nobler passage with my trusty glaive
Would I have cleft, if thou hadst not denied:
“Reluctant soul!” the Archimage replied,
“Let not thy proud feet spurn the gloomy ways,
Which potent Herod has so often tried, —
Which Herod ofttimes trod in ancient days,
Whose deeds in arms are yet the theme of Syrian praise.

“This cave the monarch scoop’d, when with a power
More strict his froward Jews he wish’d to bend;
By this he could with ease from yonder tower,
(Then named Antonia from his noble friend,)
Either, invisible to all descend
To the grand Temple, and secure his flight,
If aught of tumult threaten’d to impend
In the rebellious city, or, by night
Fresh forces introduce, nor shock the public sight.

“This dark and solitary cave, of all
Existent beings but to me is known;
It now shall be our usher to the hall,
Where in divan the mightiest of his throne,
Emir, and sage, and Persic Amazon
Are gather’d by the King, who seems to fear,
Somewhat too much, misfortune’s angry frown;
Much needed shalt thou come; stand still, give ear,
Then move, at suited time, bold words of lively cheer.”

He said: the Prince no longer now disdains
To enter the strange cavern; but by ways
Where ever-during night, and silence reigns,
Follows the Wizard through the winding maze;
At first low stooping, but the grot in space
Loftier dilates, the farther they explore
Its labyrinthine depths, until they pace
At utmost ease of height the chisell’d floor,
And midway, soon approach a little grated door.

Ismeno shot the lock; and to the right
They climb’d a staircase, long untrod, to which
A feeble, glimm’ring, and malignant light
Stream’d from the ceiling through a window’d niche;
At length by corridors of loftier pitch
They sallied into day, and access had
To an illumined hall, large, round, and rich;
Where, sceptred, crown’d, and in dark purple clad,
Sad sat the pensive King, amid his Nobles sad.

The Turk, unseen within the hollow cloud,
His eager eyes around th’ assembly roll’d;
And heard meanwhile the monarch, from his proud
Enamelled seat of elephant and gold,
His changed imaginations thus unfold;
“Oh, ruinous indeed the day gone by
Proved to our rule! my eagle heart is cold;
Cold, O my friends! and, cast from hopes so high,
Egypt is now the all on which we can rely.

“But well ye see how distant are her arms
From our so pressing exigence, alas,
Our risks! for your advice in these alarms
We all are met, — each speak the thoughts he has:”
He ceased; sad sounds around repining pass,
Like hollow winds in woods when dark the year
Weeps into winter; but, with front of brass,
Lively of look and confident of cheer,
Argantes straight uprose, and hush’d each whisp’ring peer.

“What, most magnificent of Kings! what now?”
Were the first words of the undaunted Knight;
“What trial’s this? who does not know, that thou
Need’st not our judgments to decide aright?
Yet will I say, be all our hopes in fight
Placed in ourselves; and if, as schoolmen tell,
No ills can harm true Virtue, nor affright,
Be that our spear, our shield, our citadel, —
Let us her dictates use, nor love our lives too well.

“I say not this as hopeless of the aid,
The most sure aid our Court did late decree;
To doubt the promises my lord has made,
Were neither just in you, nor right in me:
But this I say, because I wish to see
In some of us an energy more brave;
A soul prepared for whatsoe’er may be —
To scorn the chance that guides us to the grave,
And look on vict’ry still as our predestined slave.”

Thus spoke Argantes; nothing more he chose
To say, as useless in so clear a case;
When with an ah of state Orcano rose,
A peer descended from a princely race:
With warriors once he held respected place;
But, married to a young and beauteous bride,
His courage melted in her sweet embrace;
And in his babes now placing his chief pride,
Sad o’er the risks of war the she and husband sigh’d.

“My Prince,” he thus began, “I ne’er can blame
The warmth of words magnificent, that start
Bright with the impress of young Glory’s flame,
Winch will not be confined in the close heart;
And if the good Circassian, in the smart
Of ardent feeling, oft in speech exceeds
Cool caution’s bounds and overplays his part,
This let him claim; for, hotly as he pleads,
His glorying words are match’d by no less glorious deeds.

“But it behooves thee, whom the wider ken
Of times and actions so discreet has made,
Such spirits by thy wisdom to restrain,
When by enthusiast heat too far betray’d;
To balance with thy hopes of distant aid
Our present perils — what may yet befall, —
And to contrast, in this their fierce crusade,
The arms, the zeal, the genius of the Gaul,
With each new builded work and immemorial wall.

“Our town (if freely I may speak my thought)
Is strong by nature, stronger yet by art;
But what sublime and strong machines are brought
Against its bulwarks, on the adverse part!
What is to happen, I know not, — my heart
Both hopes and fears the issue, as the scale
Vibrates of war; but hope must soon depart,
Hope must depart, for sustenance will fail,
If they in stricter siege invest us, and assail.

“But, as respects the store of herds and grain
That yesternight within the walls was brought,
While the press’d Franks, in yon pavilion’d plain
Crimsoning their swords, on conquest only thought,
(And at the greatest hazard it was wrought,)
What will it be in this large town? at most,
Scant for our need, if the siege lasts; nor short
The siege must prove, e’en though the Egyptian host
Come punctual to the day and hour at first pressed.

“But what, if longer they delay? or grant
That they our hopes outstrip, and well fulfil
Their plighted promise, is there naught to daunt?
Is the war-storm roll’d back from Zion hill?
Is vict’ry ours? — No, King! we must fight still
With this redoubted Godfrey, as at first;
With the same captains, the same hosts, whose skill
So oft has baffled the fair hopes we nursed,
And Arabs, Persians, Turks, in utter rout dispersed!

“Their bravery, brave Argantes! thou hast known,
Who oft in field hast yielded quick retreat,
Oft to the conqu’ring foe thy shoulders shown,
Oft
’d for safety to thy wind-swift feet:
Coupled with thee in danger and defeat,
This knows Clorinda, this know I; not one
In the divan has cause for self-conceit
Above the rest; my lord, I censure none;
All that the might of man can do, ourselves have done.

“Yet will I say, though he should frown to hear
The truth, and fiercely take the dues of hate,
I see, alas, by tokens but too clear,
The dreaded Franks led onward by a fate
Not to be shunn’d! no force, however great,
Nor harnessries of steel, nor towers of stone
Will bar their final conquest; this I state,
(Bear witness, righteous Heaven!) from zeal alone, —
Zeal for my country’s good, and duty to the throne.

“How wise the King of Tripoli! he knew
How with calm peace his kingdom to retain;
While by his stubbornness the Soldan drew
Their vengeance down, and either now lies slain,
Or vilely groans beneath the victor’s chain;
Or into exile, of each face afraid,
Flies, ekeing out a life of care and pain;
He too, had he but yielded part, and paid
Tribute or gifts of price, might still his realms have sway’d”

In these ambiguous words the Syrian gave
A dubious glimpse of his oblique device;
For, to buy peace and live a feudal slave
He durst not openly the king advise:
But the impetuous Solyman of Nice,
With deepest scorn and indignation stung,
No longer could endure such calumnies;
And first the Wizard whisper’d him, “How long
Art thou disposed to bear the taunts of such a tongue?”

“Against my will,” he answer’d, “well you wist,
Keep I thus mute; I burn with rage and scorn!”
Scarce had he said, than the gross web of mist
That like a garment mantled them, was torn,
And into open heaven dissolving borne;
At once refulgent from the rending cloud
The Prince stood forth in the clear light of morn;
With fiery eye, magnificent and proud, —
Into the hall he strode, and sudden spake aloud:

“Lo, I of whom ye prate, before you stand,
No tim’rous wretch that into exile flies,
But ready e’en with this war-wearied hand,
To prove how foully yon pale craven lies!
And is it I, who shed — in all men’s eyes,
Such streams of blood; who fought, the livelong night,
Till the smooth plain did into mountains rise, —
I, who with thousands still sustain’d the fight,
Of every friend deprived — am I accused of flight?

“But mark me well! if he, or any such,
False to his faith, his country, and his kind,
Dares on so base a theme again to touch,
This sword shall stab the mischief in his mind:
First lambs and wolves shall in one fold be join’d;
First doves and snakes shall, in one nest embrace;
Ere on one soil affianced peace shall bind
Our hands in friendship with this hated race;
No! first the stable globe shall perish from its place.”

While speaking, he his terrible right hand
Laid on his sword in threatful attitude;
As statues mute, the Magnates of the land
Sate, by his words and Gorgon face subdued:
Then with a gentler tone, in milder mood,
He greeted courteously the King, and said;
“No more, my lord, on past reverses brood,
Since I am here, who bring no trivial aid;
Let this to livelier hopes thy fainting heart persuade.”

He, rising to salute him, made reply;
“Oh with what joy do I behold thee here!
Now, neither of my slaughter’d chivalry
Feel I the loss, nor for the future fear;
Thou of a truth art come, companion dear!
My power to fix, and in good time renew —
Unless the flatt’ring stars prove insincere —
Thine own;” thus saying, to the Prince he drew,
And round his neck his arms in strict embracement threw.

Their greetings paid, his own rich chair of state
The King conceded to the brave Nicene;
Then on a damask throne beside him sate,
And on his left hand placed the sage Ismene:
While of their wondrous coming unforeseen
Curious the King for explanation press’d
The Archimage apart, Clorinda sheen
Came from her seat, and to the royal guest
Respectful homage paid; him honoring, rose the rest:

And with them brave Ormusses, who, endued
Of late by Solyman with powers to guide
A troop of Arabs to the town, pursued
Ways long disused, and while the fight was plied
With sternest resolution, undescried
Through the dark midnight, had the skill to gain
The straiten’d town in safety; and beside
His armed force, brought store of herds and grain;
Aids, which the pining host had look’d for long in vain.

Sole with an aspect full of surly scorn,
Silent the piqued Circassian kept his place;
Like a grim lion, that at sound of horn
Rolling his eyes, disdains to stir one pace:
Abash’d Orcano durst not e’en upraise
His eyes; but, prick’d by shame’s compunctuous sting,
Shrunk from his wrong’d opponent’s angry gaze:
The Soldan thus and nobles in a ring
Leave we in deep divan, around the Syrian King.

But Godfrey, following fast as victory led,
Had clear’d the ambush’d straits, the guarded heights;
And paid meanwhile to his lamented dead
The last funereal pomps and pious rites:
And now he gives command that all his knights
Be ready, when the matin trumpet calls,
To move th’ assault; their ardor he incites;
And wheeling round, in prospect of the walls,
Yet mightier rams and towers, the townsmen more appals.

And when he knew the noble troop that came
In the last fight so timely to his aid
For his own knights, who, through their amorous flame,
Had follow’d late the fair insidious maid, —
And with them Tancred, whom we saw betray’d
To powerless bondage in Armida’s cage,
After his fancied Lady as he stray’d, —
Alone before the Solitary Sage
And his chief friends, he sent, their presence to engage.

Soon as they came, “Let one of you,” he said,
“Of your brief wand’rings the events relate;
And by what turn of fortune you were led
To bring such succor in so sharp a strait:”
They blush’d; since, e’en for venial errors, great
Is the remorse of. virtue; each would shun
The task, and downcast stood with looks sedate:
Raising his eyes at length, th’ illustrious son
Of British William rose, and bashful thus begun.

“We, whose void lots remain’d undrawn, while night
Favor’d us, secretly from camp withdrew;
Following, I not deny, Love’s meteor light,
And a fair face insidious to undo;
We went by crooked byways, trod by few,
In discord, jealousy, and fierce debate;
And oft the witch impassion’d glances threw,
Sweet words, and sweeter smiles, (seen through too late!)
Which, while they fed our love, increased our mutual hate.

“At length we reach’d th’ accursed spot, where Heaven
Rain’d down its flaky fire in ancient time,
Revenging outraged Nature on the leaven
Of foul Gomorrah and her coasts of crime:
Once fruitful was the land, and pure the clime;
Where odious winds now fret, and billows yell,
Rolled on a wild lagoon of bubbling slime
Bituminous, that, smoking as they swell,
Breathe in gross air the hue and sulph’rous scent of hell.

“This is the pool in which whate’er is thrown
Will never sink, but on the surface float;
Men, iron, marble, brass, and solid stone,
All that has weight, is buoy’d up as a boat:
A castle crowns the flood, and o’er its moat
A narrow bridge gives access to the pile;
Thither we went; within, sweet mysteries smote
Our senses, — Nature wore her brightest smile;
Gay shone the summer sea, and laugh’d th’ enchanted isle.

“The air was mild, heaven calm, the joyous bowers
Fresh, the woods green, the waters bright and blue;
Midst myrtles, lilachs, and divinest flowers,
A fountain to the sun in silver flew;
The crisp leaves made soft music, as to woo
Tired eyes to slumber in the shaded grass;
Heard was the bee to hum, the dove to coo,
Nor mute was heavenly Philomel; I pass
The glorious structures wrought in marble, gold, and glass.

“On the smooth turf, near the melodious wave,
In brownest shade were ivory tables set;
With sculptured vases deck’d and viands brave
Of every clime and season, — all that yet
Art dress’d, or taste purvey’d, or rifling net
Snared from the leafy wood or billowy sound,
With every flavorous wine and rich sherbet;
A hundred charming nymphs, with roses crown’d,
Skilful as Hebe, served, and sped the banquet round.

“With radiant smiles and fond engaging speech
She brew’d enchantments fatal to our fame;
While at the feast, from Love’s full goblet, each
Quaff’d off a long forgetfulness to shame,
She, rising, said, ‘I soon return;’ she came, —
But with a face less tranquil than before;
Her cheek’s rose-hues were deepen’d into flame;
A small enchanting wand her right hand bore,
Her left a book, whence she strange mysteries murmur’d o’er.

“Fast as she read, I felt a secret change
Invest at once volition, sense, and thought;
I long’d the watery element to range,
Leap’d from my seat, and flounced in amorous sport
Through the smooth wave, — so wonderfully wrought
Her spell! my legs combined; my arms began
T’ incorporate; my tall form grew spare and short;
O’er all my skin bright scales of silver ran;
And the mute fish possess’d the late majestic man.

“Changed like myself in form and instincts, all
Swam the clear silver of the living stream;
What then my feelings were, I now recall
As through the medium of a brainsick dream:
At length it pleased th’ Enchantress to redeem
Our spirits from the spell; our shapes we took,
But wonder kept us dumb, and awe supreme;
When, still some anger lowering in her look,
She, threatening thus, our hearts with fresh commotion.

“‘Lo, now at length ye know my height of power,
My empire o’er you! in my will it lies,
To shut you up forever in yon tower,
Dead to the sunshine of the cheerful skies;
Or rib you into rocks of stone or ice,
To bear the fury of all winds that blow;
To wing you into birds; or, in a trice,
Root you in earth to germinate and grow;
In shaggy hides to howl, or in cold fountains flow.

“‘You yet may shun my anger, if ye choose
T’ adapt your conduct to my sov’reign will;
Change but your faith, and in our service use
Your swords the impious Lorrainer to kill:
All scorn’d the cursed conditions to fulfil,
Save base Rambaldo; him, and him alone
She won, — while we (for ’gainst her magic skill
What could avail?) in darksome cells were thrown,
Beneath a weight of chains, for long, long moons to groan.

“To the same castle came in evil hour
Bold Tancred, who by guile was captured too:
But the fair false Enchantress in her tower
Not long detain’d us; for, if fame say true,
An envoy with an armed retinue
Came with Prince Idraotes’ signet ring
From rich Damascus, — of the maid to sue,
That he our troop, disarm’d and chain’d, might bring
As an obliging gift before th’ Egyptian king.

“Watch’d by a hundred guards we went our way;
When, as the providence of Heaven decreed,
The good Rinaldo, who from day to day
Goes adding by some new heroic deed
Fresh grace to glory, on his sprightly steed
Met us, nor paused a moment to assail
The knights our guard; — most nobly did he speed;
Victorious from the foe our shirts of mail
Stripp’d, and to us restored, attest the certain tale.

“I saw, all saw him! to his robes we clung,
Heard his kind voice, and grasp’d his hand; thus then,
False is the rumor that from tongue to tongue
Sounds through the Camp, which misreports him slain:
The youth is safe; but thrice the sun’s bright wain
Has circled heaven, since, with a pilgrim guide
Parting from us, he took the sandy plain
That leads to Antioch; having first aside
His shatter’d armor cast, to deepest crimson dyed.”

He ceased; meanwhile his eyes the hermit raised
To heaven, — His color changed, diviner grew
His sainted form; quick feelings feelings chased,
And all his features into sunshine threw:
Full of the Deity, his spirit flew
On rapture’s glowing wings, in glorified
Trance to the sanhedrim of Angels, — drew
The curtains of the sanctuary aside,
And the eternal march of unborn years descried.

Unlocking then in more than mortal sound
His lips, of things to come the Prophet tells;
The rest in wonder at the change stand round,
Attentive to his thunder’d oracles:
“He lives,” he cried, “Rinaldo! and all else
Are but the wiles of feminine deceit;
He lives; and God, the living God that dwells
In splendors beaming round the Mercy-seat,
Reserves his unripe youth for glories more complete.

“Trivial as yet and infantile appears
Each feet of his wherewith awed Asia rings;
I see, I see him with the rushing years
Tame the strong crimes of Caesars and of kings;
And with the mild shade of its silver wings,
I see his brooding Eagle overspread
Th’ Eternal City and the Church, that springs
From the wolf’s paw redeem’d as from the dead,
And many a worthy son shall bless his happy bed;-.

“Children, and children’s sons, who shall be styled
Illustrious patterns of their sires’ renown;
And guard from wicked courts and traitors vilde
The papal mitre and the ducal crown,
With the religious temples: to strike down
The haughty, raise the weak, the guilty goad,
And shield young merit from misfortune’s frown —
These be their arts; and in this glorious mode
Shall Este’s Eagle soar beyond the Solar road.

“And just it is, that, as by power unawed
She strikes for truth, rejoicing in the light,
From Peter’s hands her pounce should bear abroad
The mortal thunders; wheresoe’er the fight
Waxes for Christ, her baffling pinions bright
With triumph aye shall spread; this brilliant track
Heaven, and her inborn virtue to her flight
Accord; — thus, home to the sublime attack
Whence she hath flown, ’tis will’d the trumpets call her back!”

The griefs and fears that each had entertain’d,
Wise Peter’s words did wholly dissipate;
Sole in the general joy the Duke remain’d
Silent, giv’n up to themes of gravest weight:
Meanwhile the sun had reach’d Eve’s golden gate;
Still Night o’er earth her solemn mantle throws;
Home to their several tents the Chiefs of state
Return, and give their members to repose;
But Godfrey’s studious mind no rest in slumber knows.