Chapter X: Part 10

VIII Hugo replied, “Ere many years shall run, Amid the saints in bliss here shalt thou reign; But first great wars must by thy hand be done, Much blood be shed, and many Pagans slain, The holy city by assault be won, The land set free from servile yoke again, Wherein thou shalt a Christian empire frame, And after thee shall Baldwin rule the same.

IX “But to increase thy love and great desire To heavenward, this blessed place behold, These shining lamps, these globes of living fire, How they are turned, guided, moved and rolled; The angels’ singing hear, and all their choir; Then bend thine eyes on yonder earth and mould, All in that mass, that globe and compass see, Land, sea, spring, fountain, man, beast, grass and tree.

X “How vile, how small, and of how slender price, Is their reward of goodness, virtue’s gain! A narrow room our glory vain upties, A little circle doth our pride contain, Earth like an isle amid the water lies, Which sea sometime is called, sometime the main, Yet naught therein responds a name so great, It’s but a lake, a pond, a marish strait.”

XI Thus said the one, the other bended down His looks to ground, and half in scorn he smiled, He saw at once earth, sea, flood, castle, town, Strangely divided, strangely all compiled, And wondered folly man so far should drown, To set his heart on things so base and vild, That servile empire searcheth and dumb fame, And scorns heaven’s bliss, yet proffereth heaven the same.

XII Wherefore he answered, “Since the Lord not yet Will free my spirit from this cage of clay, Lest worldly error vain my voyage let, Teach me to heaven the best and surest way:” Hugo replied, “Thy happy foot is set In the true path, nor from this passage stray, Only from exile young Rinaldo call, This give I thee in charge, else naught at all.

XIII “For as the Lord of hosts, the King of bliss, Hath chosen thee to rule the faithful band; So he thy stratagems appointed is To execute, so both shall win this land: The first is thine, the second place is his, Thou art this army’s head, and he the hand, No other champion can his place supply, And that thou do it doth thy state deny.

XIV “The enchanted forest, and her charmed treen, With cutting steel shall he to earth down hew, And thy weak armies which too feeble been To scale again these walls reinforced new, And fainting lie dispersed on the green, Shall take new strength new courage at his view, The high-built towers, the eastern squadrons all, Shall conquered be, shall fly, shall die, shall fall.”

XV He held his peace; and Godfrey answered so: “Oh, how his presence would recomfort me! You that man’s hidden thoughts perceive and know: If I say truth, or if I love him, see. But say, what messengers shall for him go? What shall their speeches, what their errand be? Shall I entreat, or else command the man? With credit neither well perform I can.”

XVI “The eternal Lord,” the other knight replied, “That with so many graces hath thee blest, Will, that among the troops thou hast to guide, Thou honored be and feared of most and least: Then speak not thou lest blemish some betide Thy sacred empire if thou make request; But when by suit thou moved art to ruth, Then yield, forgive, and home recall the youth.

XVII “Guelpho shall pray thee, God shall him inspire, To pardon this offence, this fault commit By hasty wrath, by rash and headstrong ire, To call the knight again; yield thou to it: And though the youth, enwrapped in fond desire, Far hence in love and looseness idle sit, Year fear it not, he shall return with speed, When most you wish him and when most you need.

XVIII “Your hermit Peter, to whose sapient heart High Heaven his secrets opens, tells and shews, Your messengers direct can to that part, Where of the prince they shall hear certain news, And learn the way, the manner, and the art To bring him back to these thy warlike crews, That all thy soldiers, wandered and misgone, Heaven may unite again and join in one.

XIX “But this conclusion shall my speeches end: Know that his blood shall mixed be with thine, Whence barons bold and worthies shall descend, That many great exploits shall bring to fine.” This said, he vanished from his sleeping friend, Like smoke in wind, or mist in Titan’s shine; Sleep fled likewise, and in his troubled thought, With wonder, pleasure; joy, with marvel fought.

XX The duke looked up, and saw the azure sky With argent beams of silver morning spread, And started up, for praise axed virtue lie In toil and travel, sin and shame in bed: His arms he took, his sword girt to his thigh, To his pavilion all his lords them sped, And there in council grave the princes sit, For strength by wisdom, war is ruled by wit.

XXI Lord Guelpho there, within whose gentle breast Heaven had infused that new and sudden thought, His pleasing words thus to the duke addressed: “Good prince, mild, though unasked, kind, unbesought, Oh let thy mercy grant my just request, Pardon this fault by rage not malice wrought; For great offence, I grant, so late commit, My suit too hasty is, perchance unfit.

XXII But since to Godfrey meek benign and kind, For Prince Rinaldo bold, I humbly sue, And that the suitor’s self is not behind Thy greatest friends in state or friendship true; I trust I shall thy grace and mercy find Acceptable to me and all this crew; Oh call him home, this trespass to amend, He shall his blood in Godfrey’s service spend.

XXIII “And if not he, who else dares undertake Of this enchanted wood to cut one tree? Gainst death and danger who dares battle make, With so bold face, so fearless heart as he? Beat down these walls, these gates in pieces break, Leap o’er these rampires high, thou shalt him see, Restore therefore to this desirous band Their wish, their hope, their strength, their shield, their hand;

XXIV “To me my nephew, to thyself restore A trusty help, when strength of hand thou needs, In idleness let him consume no more, Recall him to his noble acts and deeds! Known be his worth as was his strength of yore Wher’er thy standard broad her cross outspreads, Oh, let his fame and praise spread far and wide, Be thou his lord, his teacher and his guidel”

XXV Thus he entreated, and the rest approve His words, with friendly murmurs whispered low. Godfrey as though their suit his mind did move To that whereon he never thought tell now, “How can my heart,” quoth he, “if you I love, To your request and suit but bend and bow? Let rigor go, that right and justice be Wherein you all consent and all agree.

XXVI “Rinaldo shall return; let him restrain Henceforth his headstrong wrath and hasty ire, And with his hardy deeds let him take pain To correspond your hope and my desire: Guelpho, thou must call home the knight again, See that with speed he to these tents retire, The messengers appoint as likes thy mind, And teach them where they should the young man find.”

XXVII Up start the Dane that bare Prince Sweno’s brand, “I will,” quoth he, “that message undertake, I will refuse no pains by sea or land, To give the knight this sword, kept for his sake.” This man was bold of courage, strong of hand, Guelpho was glad he did the proffer make: “Thou shalt,” quoth he, “Ubaldo shalt thou have To go with thee, a knight, stout, wise, and grave.”

XXVIII Ubaldo in his youth had known and seen The fashions strange of many an uncouth land, And travelled over all the realms between The Arctic circle and hot Meroe’s strand, And as a man whose wit his guide had been, Their customs use he could, tongues understand, Forthy when spent his youthful seasons were Lord Guelpho entertained and held him dear.

XXIX To these committed was the charge and care To find and bring again the champion bold, Guelpho commands them to the fort repair, Where Boemond doth his seat and sceptre hold, For public fame said that Bertoldo’s heir There lived, there dwelt, there stayed; the hermit old, That knew they were misled by false report, Among them came, and parleyed in this sort:

XXX “Sir knights,” quoth he, “if you intend to ride, And follow each report fond people say, You follow but a rash and truthless guide That leads vain men amiss and makes them stray; Near Ascalon go to the salt seaside, Where a swift brook fails in with hideous sway, An aged sire, our friend, there shall you find, All what he saith, that do, that keep in mind.

XXXI “Of this great voyage which you undertake, Much by his skill, and much by mine advise Hath he foreknown, and welcome for my sake You both shall be, the man is kind and wise.” Instructed thus no further question make The twain elected for this enterprise, But humbly yielded to obey his word, For what the hermit said, that said the Lord.

XXXII They took their leave, and on their journey went, Their will could brook no stay, their zeal, no let; To Ascalon their voyage straight they bent, Whose broken shores with brackish waves are wet, And there they heard how gainst the cliffs, besprent With bitter foam, the roaring surges bet, A tumbling brook their passage stopped and stayed, Which late-fall’n rain had proud and puissant made,

XXXIII So proud that over all his banks he grew, And through the fields ran swift as shaft from bow, While here they stopped and stood, before them drew An aged sire, grave and benign in show, Crowned with a beechen garland gathered new, Clad in a linen robe that raught down low, In his right hand a rod, and on the flood Against the stream he marched, and dry shod yode.

XXXIV As on the Rhene, when winter’s freezing cold Congeals the streams to thick and hardened glass, The beauties fair of shepherds’ daughters bold With wanton windlays run, turn, play and pass; So on this river passed the wizard old, Although unfrozen soft and swift it was, And thither stalked where the warriors stayed, To whom, their greetings done, he spoke and said:

XXXV “Great pains, great travel, lords, you have begun, And of a cunning guide great need you stand, Far off, alas! is great Bertoldo’s son, Imprisoned in a waste and desert land, What soil remains by which you must not run, What promontory, rock, sea, shore or sand Your search must stretch before the prince be found, Beyond our world, beyond our half of ground!

XXXVI But yet vouchsafe to see my cell I pray, In hidden caves and vaults though builded low, Great wonders there, strange things I will bewray, Things good for you to hear, and fit to know:” This said, he bids the river make them way, The flood retired, backward gan to flow, And here and there two crystal mountains rise, So fled the Red Sea once, and Jordan thrice.

XXXVII He took their hands, and led them headlong down Under the flood, through vast and hollow deeps, Such light they had as when through shadows brown Of thickest deserts feeble Cynthia peeps, Their spacious caves they saw all overflown, There all his waters pure great Neptune keeps, And thence to moisten all the earth he brings Seas, rivers, floods, lakes, fountains, wells and springs:

XXXVIII Whence Ganges, Indus, Volga, Ister, Po, Whence Euphrates, whence Tigris’ spring they view, Whence Tanais, whence Nilus comes also, Although his head till then no creature knew, But under these a wealthy stream doth go, That sulphur yields and ore, rich, quick and new, Which the sunbeams doth polish, purge and fine, And makes it silver pure, and gold divine.

XXXIX And all his banks the rich and wealthy stream Hath fair beset with pearl and precious stone Like stars in sky or lamps on stage that seem, The darkness there was day, the night was gone, There sparkled, clothed in his azure-beam, The heavenly sapphire, there the jacinth shone, The carbuncle there flamed, the diamond sheen, There glistered bright, there smiled the emerald green.

XL Amazed the knights amid these wonders passed, And fixed so deep the marvels in their thought, That not one word they uttered, till at last Ubaldo spake, and thus his guide besought: “O father, tell me by what skill thou hast These wonders done? and to what place us brought? For well I know not if I wake or sleep, My heart is drowned in such amazement deep.”

XLI “You are within the hollow womb,” quoth he, “Of fertile earth, the nurse of all things made, And but you brought and guided are by me, Her sacred entrails could no wight invade; My palace shortly shall you splendent see, With glorious light, though built in night and shade. A Pagan was I born, but yet the Lord To grace, by baptism, hath my soul restored.

XLII “Nor yet by help of devil, or aid from hell, I do this uncouth work and wondrous feat, The Lord forbid I use or charm or spell To raise foul Dis from his infernal seat: But of all herbs, of every spring and well, The hidden power I know and virtue great, And all that kind hath hid from mortal sight, And all the stars, their motions, and their might.

XLIII “For in these caves I dwell not buried still From sight of Heaven, but often I resort To tops of Lebanon or Carmel hill, And there in liquid air myself disport, There Mars and Venus I behold at will! As bare as erst when Vulcan took them short, And how the rest roll, glide and move, I see, How their aspects benign or froward be.”

XLIV “And underneath my feet the clouds I view, Now thick, now thin, now bright with Iris’ bow, The frost and snow, the rain, the hail, the dew, The winds, from whence they come and whence they blow, How Jove his thunder makes and lightning new, How with the bolt he strikes the earth below, How comate, crinite, caudate stars are framed I knew; my skill with pride my heart inflamed.

XLV “So learned, cunning, wise, myself I thought, That I supposed my wit so high might climb To know all things that God had framed or wrought, Fire, air, sea, earth, man, beast, sprite, place and time; But when your hermit me to baptism brought, And from my soul had washed the sin and crime, Then I perceived my sight was blindness still, My wit was folly, ignorance my skill.

XLVI “Then saw I, that like owls in shining sun, So gainst the beams of truth our souls are blind, And at myself to smile I then begun, And at my heart, puffed up with folly’s wind, Yet still these arts, as I before had done, I practised, such was the hermit’s mind: Thus hath he changed my thoughts, my heart, my will, And rules mine art, my knowledge, and my skill.

XLVII “In him I rest, on him my thoughts depend, My lord, my teacher, and my guide is he, This noble work he strives to bring to end, He is the architect, the workmen we, The hardy youth home to this camp to send From prison strong, my care, my charge shall be; So He commands, and me ere this foretold Your coming oft, to seek the champion bold.”

XLVIII While this he said, he brought the champions twain Down to a vault, wherein he dwells and lies, It was a cave, high, wide, large, ample, plain, With goodly rooms, halls, chambers, galleries, All what is bred in rich and precious vein Of wealthy earth, and hid from mortal eyes, There shines, and fair adorned was every part With riches grown by kind, not framed by art:

XLIX An hundred grooms, quick, diligent and neat, Attendance gave about these strangers bold, Against the wall there stood a cupboard great Of massive plate, of silver, crystal, gold. But when with precious wines and costly meat They filled were, thus spake the wizard old: “Now fits the time, sir knights, I tell and show What you desire to hear, and long to know.

L “Armida’s craft, her sleight and hidden guile You partly wot, her acts and arts untrue, How to your camp she came, and by what wile The greatest lords and princes thence she drew; You know she turned them first to monsters vile, And kept them since closed up in secret mew, Lastly, to Gaza-ward in bonds them sent, Whom young Rinaldo rescued as they went.

LI “What chanced since I will at large declare, To you unknown, a story strange and true. When first her prey, got with such pain and care, Escaped and gone the witch perceived and knew, Her hands she wrung for grief, her clothes she tare, And full of woe these heavy words outthrew: ‘Alas! my knights are slain, my prisoners free, Yet of that conquest never boast shall he,

LII “‘He in their place shall serve me, and sustain Their plagues, their torments suffer, sorrows bear, And they his absence shall lament in vain, And wail his loss and theirs with many a tear:’ Thus talking to herself she did ordain A false and wicked guile, as you shall hear; Thither she hasted where the valiant knight Had overcome and slain her men in fight.

LIII “Rinaldo there had dolt and left his own, And on his back a Pagan’s harness tied, Perchance he deemed so to pass unknown, And in those arms less noted false to ride. A headless corse in fight late overthrown, The witch in his forsaken arms did hide, And by a brook exposed it on the sand Whither she wished would come a Christian band:

LIV “Their coming might the dame foreknow right well, For secret spies she sent forth thousand ways, Which every day news from the camp might tell, Who parted thence, booties to search or preys: Beside, the sprites conjured by sacred spell, All what she asks or doubts, reveals and says, The body therefore placed she in that part That furthered best her sleight, her craft and art;

LV “And near the corpse a varlet false and sly She left, attired in shepherd’s homely weed, And taught him how to counterfeit and lie As time required, and he performed the deed; With him your soldiers spoke, of jealousy And false suspect mongst them he strewed the seed, That since brought forth the fruit of strife and jar, Of civil brawls, contention, discord, war.

LVI “And as she wished so the soldiers thought By Godfrey’s practice that the prince was slain, Yet vanished that suspicion false to naught When truth spread forth her silver wings again Her false devices thus Armida wrought, This was her first deceit, her foremost train; What next she practised, shall you hear me tell, Against our knight, and what thereof befell.

LVII “Armida hunted him through wood and plain, Till on Orontes’ flowery banks he stayed, There, where the stream did part and meet again And in the midst a gentle island made, A pillar fair was pight beside the main, Near which a little frigate floating laid, The marble white the prince did long behold, And this inscription read, there writ in gold:

LVIII “‘Whoso thou art whom will or chance doth bring With happy steps to flood Orontes’ sides, Know that the world hath not so strange a thing, Twixt east and west, as this small island hides, Then pass and see, without more tarrying.’ The hasty youth to pass the stream provides, And for the cogs was narrow, small and strait, Alone he rowed, and bade his squires there wait;

LIX “Landed he stalks about, yet naught he sees But verdant groves, sweet shades, and mossy rocks With caves and fountains, flowers, herbs and trees, So that the words he read he takes for mocks: But that green isle was sweet at all degrees, Wherewith enticed down sits he and unlocks His closed helm, and bares his visage fair, To take sweet breath from cool and gentle air.

LX “A rumbling sound amid the waters deep Meanwhile he heard, and thither turned his sight, And tumbling in the troubled stream took keep How the strong waves together rush and fight, Whence first he saw, with golden tresses, peep The rising visage of a virgin bright, And then her neck, her breasts, and all, as low As he for shame could see, or she could show.

LXI “So in the twilight does sometimes appear A nymph, a goddess, or a fairy queen, And though no siren but a sprite this were Yet by her beauty seemed it she had been One of those sisters false which haunted near The Tyrrhene shores and kept those waters sheen, Like theirs her face, her voice was, and her sound, And thus she sung, and pleased both skies and ground:

LXII “‘Ye happy youths, who April fresh and May Attire in flowering green of lusty age, For glory vain, or virtue’s idle ray, Do not your tender limbs to toil engage; In calm streams, fishes; birds, in sunshine play, Who followeth pleasure he is only sage, So nature saith, yet gainst her sacred will Why still rebel you, and why strive you still?

LXIII “‘O fools who youth possess, yet scorn the same, A precious, but a short-abiding treasure, Virtue itself is but an idle name, Prized by the world ’bove reason all and measure, And honor, glory, praise, renown and fame, That men’s proud harts bewitch with tickling pleasure, An echo is, a shade, a dream, a flower, With each wind blasted, spoiled with every shower.

LXIV “‘But let your happy souls in joy possess The ivory castles of your bodies fair, Your passed harms salve with forgetfulness, Haste not your coming evils with thought and care, Regard no blazing star with burning tress, Nor storm, nor threatening sky, nor thundering air, This wisdom is, good life, and worldly bliss, Kind teacheth us, nature commands us this.’

LXV “Thus sung the spirit false, and stealing sleep, To which her tunes enticed his heavy eyes, By step and step did on his senses creep, Still every limb therein unmoved lies, Not thunders loud could from this slumber deep, Of quiet death true image, make him rise: Then from her ambush forth Armida start, Swearing revenge, and threatening torments smart.

LXVI “But when she looked on his face awhile, And saw how sweet he breathed, how still he lay, How his fair eyes though closed seemed to smile, At first she stayed, astound with great dismay, Then sat her down, so love can art beguile, And as she sat and looked, fled fast away Her wrath, that on his forehead gazed the maid, As in his spring Narcissus tooting laid;

LXVII “And with a veil she wiped now and then From his fair cheeks the globes of silver sweat, And cool air gathered with a trembling fan, To mitigate the rage of melting heat, Thus, who would think it, his hot eye-glance can Of that cold frost dissolve the hardness great Which late congealed the heart of that fair dame, Who late a foe, a lover now became.

LXVIII “Of woodbines, lilies, and of roses sweet, Which proudly flowered through that wanton plain, All platted fast, well knit, and joined meet, She framed a soft but surely holding chain, Wherewith she bound his neck his hands and feet; Thus bound, thus taken, did the prince remain, And in a coach which two old dragons drew, She laid the sleeping knight, and thence she flew:

LXIX “Nor turned she to Damascus’ kingdoms large, Nor to the fort built in Asphalte’s lake, But jealous of her dear and precious charge, And of her love ashamed, the way did take, To the wide ocean whither skiff or barge From us doth seld or never voyage make, And there to frolic with her love awhile, She chose a waste, a sole and desert isle.

LXX “An isle that with her fellows bears the name Of Fortunate, for temperate air and mould, There in a mountain high alight the dame, A hill obscured with shades of forests old, Upon whose sides the witch by art did frame Continual snow, sharp frost and winter cold, But on the top, fresh, pleasant, sweet and green, Beside a lake a palace built this queen.

LXXI “There in perpetual sweet and flowering spring, She lives at ease, and joys her lord at will; The hardy youth from this strange prison bring Your valors must, directed by my skill, And overcome each monster and each thing, That guards the palace or that keeps the hill, Nor shall you want a guide, or engines fit, To bring you to the mount, or conquer it.

LXXII “Beside the stream, yparted shall you find A dame, in visage young, but old in years, Her curled locks about her front are twined, A party-colored robe of silk she wears: This shall conduct you swift as air or wind, Or that flit bird that Jove’s hot weapon bears, A faithful pilot, cunning, trusty, sure, As Tiphys was, or skilful Palinure.

LXXIII “At the hill’s foot, whereon the witch doth dwell, The serpents hiss, and cast their poison vilde, The ugly boars do rear their bristles fell, There gape the bears, and roar the lions wild; But yet a rod I have can easily quell Their rage and wrath, and make them meek and mild. Yet on the top and height of all the hill, The greatest danger lies, and greatest ill:

LXXIV “There welleth out a fair, clear, bubbling spring, Whose waters pure the thirsty guests entice, But in those liquors cold the secret sting Of strange and deadly poison closed lies, One sup thereof the drinker’s heart doth bring To sudden joy, whence laughter vain doth rise, Nor that strange merriment once stops or stays, Till, with his laughter’s end, he end his days:

LXXV “Then from those deadly, wicked streams refrain Your thirsty lips, despise the dainty cheer You find exposed upon the grassy plain, Nor those false damsels once vouchsafe to hear, That in melodious tunes their voices strain, Whose faces lovely, smiling, sweet, appear; But you their looks, their voice, their songs despise, And enter fair Armida’s paradise.

LXXVI “The house is builded like a maze within, With turning stairs, false doors and winding ways, The shape whereof plotted in vellum thin I will you give, that all those sleights bewrays, In midst a garden lies, where many a gin And net to catch frail hearts, false Cupid lays; There in the verdure of the arbors green, With your brave champion lies the wanton queen.

LXXVII “But when she haply riseth from the knight, And hath withdrawn her presence from the place, Then take a shield I have of diamonds bright, And hold the same before the young man’s face, That he may glass therein his garments light, And wanton soft attire, and view his case, That with the sight shame and disdain may move His heart to leave that base and servile love.

LXXVIII “Now resteth naught that needful is to tell, But that you go secure, safe, sure and bold, Unseen the palace may you enter well, And pass the dangers all I have foretold, For neither art, nor charm, nor magic spell, Can stop your passage or your steps withhold, Nor shall Armida, so you guarded be, Your coming aught foreknow or once foresee:

LXXIX “And eke as safe from that enchanted fort You shall return and scape unhurt away; But now the time doth us to rest exhort, And you must rise by peep of springing day.” This said, he led them through a narrow port, Into a lodging fair wherein they lay, There glad and full of thoughts he left his guests, And in his wonted bed the old man rests.

FIFTEENTH BOOK

THE ARGUMENT. The well instructed knights forsake their host, And come where their strange bark in harbor lay, And setting sail behold on Egypt’s coast The monarch’s ships and armies in array: Their wind and pilot good, the seas in post They pass, and of long journeys make short way: The far-sought isle they find; Armida’s charms They scorn, they shun her sleights, despise her arms.

I The rosy-fingered morn with gladsome ray Rose to her task from old Tithonus’ lap When their grave host came where the warriors lay, And with him brought the shield, the rod, the map. “Arise,” quoth he, “ere lately broken day, In his bright arms the round world fold or wrap, All what I promised, here I have them brought, Enough to bring Armida’s charms to naught.”

II They started up, and every tender limb In sturdy steel and stubborn plate they dight, Before the old man stalked, they followed him Through gloomy shades of sad and sable night, Through vaults obscure again and entries dim, The way they came their steps remeasured right; But at the flood arrived, “Farewell,” quoth he, “Good luck your aid, your guide good fortune be.”

III The flood received them in his bottom low And lilt them up above his billows thin; The waters so east up a branch or bough, By violence first plunged and dived therein: But when upon the shore the waves them throw, The knights for their fair guide to look begin, And gazing round a little bark they spied, Wherein a damsel sate the stern to guide.

IV Upon her front her locks were curled new, Her eyes were courteous, full of peace and love; In look a saint, an angel bright in show, So in her visage grace and virtue strove; Her robe seemed sometimes red and sometimes blue, And changed still as she did stir or move; That look how oft man’s eye beheld the same So oft the colors changed, went and came.

V The feathers so, that tender, soft, and plain, About the dove’s smooth neck close couched been, Do in one color never long remain, But change their hue gainst glimpse of Phoebus’ sheen; And now of rubies bright a vermeil chain, Now make a carknet rich of emeralds green; Now mingle both, now alter, turn and change To thousand colors, rich, pure, fair, and strange.

VI “Enter this boat, you happy men,” she says, “Wherein through raging waves secure I ride, To which all tempest, storm, and wind obeys, All burdens light, benign is stream and tide: My lord, that rules your journeys and your ways, Hath sent me here, your servant and your guide.” This said, her shallop drove she gainst the sand, And anchor cast amid the steadfast land.

VII They entered in, her anchors she upwound, And launched forth to sea her pinnace flit, Spread to the wind her sails she broad unbound, And at the helm sat down to govern it, Swelled the flood that all his banks he drowned To bear the greatest ship of burthen fit; Yet was her fatigue little, swift and light, That at his lowest ebb bear it he might.

VIII Swifter than thought the friendly wind forth bore The sliding boat upon the rolling wave, With curded foam and froth the billows hoar About the cable murmur roar and rave; At last they came where all his watery store The flood in one deep channel did engrave, And forth to greedy seas his streams he sent, And so his waves, his name, himself he spent.

IX The wondrous boat scant touched the troubled main But all the sea still, hushed and quiet was, Vanished the clouds, ceased the wind and rain, The tempests threatened overblow and pass, A gentle breathing air made even and plain The azure face of heaven’s smooth looking-glass, And heaven itself smiled from the skies above With a calm clearness on the earth his love.

X By Ascalon they sailed, and forth drived, Toward the west their speedy course they frame, In sight of Gaza till the bark arrived, A little port when first it took that name; But since, by others’ loss so well it thrived A city great and rich that it became, And there the shores and borders of the land They found as full of armed men as sand.

XI The passengers to landward turned their sight, And there saw pitched many a stately tent, Soldier and footman, captain, lord and knight, Between the shore and city, came and went: Huge elephants, strong camels, coursers light, With horned hoofs the sandy ways outrent, And in the haven many a ship and boat, With mighty anchors fastened, swim and float;

XII Some spread their sails, some with strong oars sweep The waters smooth, and brush the buxom wave, Their breasts in sunder cleave the yielding deep, The broken seas for anger foam and rave, When thus their guide began, “Sir knights, take keep How all these shores are spread with squadrons brave And troops of hardy knights, yet on these sands The monarch scant hath gathered half his bands.

XIII “Of Egypt only these the forces are, And aid from other lands they here attend, For twixt the noon-day sun and morning star, All realms at his command do bow and bend; So that I trust we shall return from far, And bring our journey long to wished end, Before this king or his lieutenant shall These armies bring to Zion’s conquered wall.”

XIV While thus she said, as soaring eagles fly Mongst other birds securely through the air, And mounting up behold with wakeful eye, The radiant beams of old Hyperion’s hair, Her gondola so passed swiftly by Twixt ship and ship, withouten fear or care Who should her follow, trouble, stop or stay, And forth to sea made lucky speed and way.

XV Themselves fornenst old Raffia’s town they fand, A town that first to sailors doth appear As they from Syria pass to Egypt land: The sterile coasts of barren Rhinocere They passed, and seas where Casius hill doth stand That with his trees o’erspreads the waters near, Against whose roots breaketh the brackish wave Where Jove his temple, Pompey hath his grave:

XVI Then Damiata next, where they behold How to the sea his tribute Nilus pays By his seven mouths renowned in stories old, And by an hundred more ignoble ways: They pass the town built by the Grecian bold, Of him called Alexandria till our days, And Pharaoh’s tower and isle removed of yore Far from the land, now joined to the shore:

XVII Both Crete and Rhodes they left by north unseen, And sailed along the coasts of Afric lands, Whose sea towns fair, but realms more inward been All full of monsters and of desert sands: With her five cities then they left Cyrene, Where that old temple of false Hammon stands: Next Ptolemais, and that sacred wood Whence spring the silent streams of Lethe flood.

XVIII The greater Syrte, that sailors often cast In peril great of death and loss extreme, They compassed round about, and safely passed, The Cape Judeca and flood Magra’s stream; Then Tripoli, gainst which is Malta placed, That low and hid, to lurk in seas doth seem: The little Syrte then, and Alzerhes isle, Where dwelt the folk that Lotos ate erewhile.

XIX Next Tunis on the crooked shore they spied, Whose bay a rock on either side defends, Tunis all towns in beauty, wealth and pride Above, as far as Libya’s bounds extends; Gainst which, from fair Sicilia’s fertile side, His rugged front great Lilybaeum bends. The dame there pointed out where sometime stood Rome’s stately rival whilom, Carthage proud;

XX Great Carthage low in ashes cold doth lie, Her ruins poor the herbs in height scant pass, So cities fall, so perish kingdoms high, Their pride and pomp lies hid in sand and grass: Then why should mortal man repine to die, Whose life, is air; breath, wind; and body, glass? From thence the seas next Bisert’s walls they cleft, And far Sardinia on their right hand left.

XXI Numidia’s mighty plains they coasted then, Where wandering shepherds used their flocks to feed, Then Bugia and Argier, the infamous den Of pirates false, Oran they left with speed, All Tingitan they swiftly overren, Where elephants and angry lions breed, Where now the realms of Fez and Maroc be, Gainst which Granada’s shores and coasts they see.

XXII Now are they there, where first the sea brake in By great Alcides’ help, as stories feign, True may it be that where those floods begin It whilom was a firm and solid main Before the sea there through did passage win And parted Afric from the land of Spain, Abila hence, thence Calpe great upsprings, Such power hath time to change the face of things.

XXIII Four times the sun had spread his morning ray Since first the dame launched forth her wondrous barge And never yet took port in creek or bay, But fairly forward bore the knights her charge; Now through the strait her jolly ship made way, And boldly sailed upon the ocean large; But if the sea in midst of earth was great, Oh what was this, wherein earth hath her seat?

XXIV Now deep engulphed in the mighty flood They saw not Gades, nor the mountains near, Fled was the land, and towns on land that stood, Heaven covered sea, sea seemed the heavens to bear. “At last, fair lady,” quoth Ubaldo good, “That in this endless main dost guide us here, If ever man before here sailed tell, Or other lands here be wherein men dwell.”

XXV “Great Hercules,” quoth she, “when he had quailed The monsters fierce in Afric and in Spain, And all along your coasts and countries sailed, Yet durst he not assay the ocean main, Within his pillars would he have impaled The overdaring wit of mankind vain, Till Lord Ulysses did those bounders pass, To see and know he so desirous was.

XXVI “He passed those pillars, and in open wave Of the broad sea first his bold sails untwined, But yet the greedy ocean was his grave, Naught helped him his skill gainst tide and wind; With him all witness of his voyage brave Lies buried there, no truth thereof we find, And they whom storm hath forced that way since, Are drowned all, or unreturned from thence:

XXVII “So that this mighty sea is yet unsought, Where thousand isles and kingdoms lie unknown, Not void of men as some have vainly thought, But peopled well, and wonned like your own; The land is fertile ground, but scant well wrought, Air wholesome, temperate sun, grass proudly grown.” “But,” quoth Ubaldo, “dame, I pray thee teach Of that hid world, what be the laws and speech?”

XXVIII “As diverse be their nations,” answered she, “Their tongues, their rites, their laws so different are; Some pray to beasts, some to a stone or tree, Some to the earth, the sun, or morning star; Their meats unwholesome, vile, and hateful be, Some eat man’s flesh, and captives ta’en in war, And all from Calpe’s mountain west that dwell, In faith profane, in life are rude and fell.”

XXIX “But will our gracious God,” the knight replied, “That with his blood all sinful men hath bought, His truth forever and his gospel hide From all those lands, as yet unknown, unsought?” “Oh no,” quoth she, “his name both far and wide Shall there be known, all learning thither brought, Nor shall these long and tedious ways forever Your world and theirs, their lands, your kingdoms sever.

XXX “The time shall come that sailors shall disdain To talk or argue of Alcides’ streat, And lands and seas that nameless yet remain, Shall well be known, their boundaries, site and seat, The ships encompass shall the solid main, As far as seas outstretch their waters great, And measure all the world, and with the sun About this earth, this globe, this compass, run.

XXXI “A knight of Genes shall have the hardiment Upon this wondrous voyage first to wend, Nor winds nor waves, that ships in sunder rent, Nor seas unused, strange clime, or pool unkenned, Nor other peril nor astonishment That makes frail hearts of men to bow and bend, Within Abilas’ strait shall keep and hold The noble spirit of this sailor bold.

XXXII “Thy ship, Columbus, shall her canvas wing Spread o’er that world that yet concealed lies, That scant swift fame her looks shall after bring, Though thousand plumes she have, and thousand eyes; Let her of Bacchus and Alcides sing, Of thee to future age let this suffice, That of thine acts she some forewarning give, Which shall in verse and noble story live.”

XXXIII Thus talking, swift twixt south and west they run, And sliced out twixt froth and foam their way; At once they saw before, the setting sun; Behind, the rising beam of springing day; And when the morn her drops and dews begun To scatter broad upon the flowering lay, Far off a hill and mountain high they spied, Whose top the clouds environ, clothe and hide;

XXXIV And drawing near, the hill at ease they view, When all the clouds were molten, fallen and fled, Whose top pyramid-wise did pointed show, High, narrow, sharp, the sides yet more outspread, Thence now and then fire, flame and smoke outflew, As from that hill, whereunder lies in bed Enceladus, whence with imperious sway Bright fire breaks out by night, black smoke by day.

XXXV About the hill lay other islands small, Where other rocks, crags, cliffs, and mountains stood, The Isles Fortunate these elder time did call, To which high Heaven they reigned so kind and good, And of his blessings rich so liberal, That without tillage earth gives corn for food, And grapes that swell with sweet and precious wine There without pruning yields the fertile vine.

XXXVI The olive fat there ever buds and flowers, The honey-drops from hollow oaks distil, The falling brook her silver streams downpours With gentle murmur from their native hill, The western blast tempereth with dews and showers The sunny rays, lest heat the blossoms kill, The fields Elysian, as fond heathen sain, Were there, where souls of men in bliss remain.

XXXVII To these their pilot steered, “And now,” quoth she, “Your voyage long to end is brought well-near, The happy Isles of Fortune now you see, Of which great fame, and little truth, you hear, Sweet, wholesome, pleasant, fertile, fat they be, Yet not so rich as fame reports they were.” This said, toward an island fresh she bore, The first of ten, that lies next Afric’s shore;

XXXVIII When Charles thus, “If, worthy governess, To our good speed such tarriance be no let, Upon this isle that Heaven so fair doth bless, To view the place, on land awhile us set, To know the folk and what God they confess, And all whereby man’s heart may knowledge get, That I may tell the wonders therein seen Another day, and say, there have I been.”

XXXIX She answered him, “Well fits this high desire Thy noble heart, yet cannot I consent; For Heaven’s decree, firm, stable, and entire, Thy wish repugns, and gainst thy will is bent, Nor yet the time hath Titan’s gliding fire Met forth, prefixed for this discoverment, Nor is it lawful of the ocean main That you the secrets know, or known explain.

XL “To you withouten needle, map or card It’s given to pass these seas, and there arrive Where in strong prison lies your knight imbarred, And of her prey you must the witch deprive: If further to aspire you be prepared, In vain gainst fate and Heaven’s decree you strive.” While thus she said, the first seen isle gave place, And high and rough the second showed his face.

XLI They saw how eastward stretched in order long, The happy islands sweetly flowering lay; And how the seas betwixt those isles enthrong, And how they shouldered land from land away: In seven of them the people rude among The shady trees their sheds had built of clay, The rest lay waste, unless wild beasts unseen, Or wanton nymphs, roamed on the mountains green.

XLII A secret place they found in one of those, Where the cleft shore sea in his bosom takes, And ’twixt his stretched arms doth fold and close An ample bay, a rock the haven makes, Which to the main doth his broad back oppose, Whereon the roaring billow cleaves and breaks, And here and there two crags like turrets high, Point forth a port to all that sail thereby:

XLIII The quiet seas below lie safe and still, The green wood like a garland grows aloft, Sweet caves within, cool shades and waters shrill, Where lie the nymphs on moss and ivy soft; No anchor there needs hold her frigate still, Nor cable twisted sure, though breaking oft: Into this desert, silent, quiet, glad, Entered the dame, and there her haven made.

XLIV “The palace proudly built,” quoth she, “behold, That sits on top of yonder mountain’s height, Of Christ’s true faith there lies the champion bold In idleness, love, fancy, folly light; When Phoebus shall his rising beams unfold, Prepare you gainst the hill to mount upright, Nor let this stay in your bold hearts breed care, For, save that one, all hours unlucky are;

XLV “But yet this evening, if you make good speed, To that hill’s foot with daylight might you pass.” Thus said the dame their guide, and they agreed, And took their leave and leaped forth on the grass; They found the way that to the hill doth lead, And softly went that neither tired was, But at the mountain’s foot they both arrived, Before the sun his team in waters dived.

XLVI They saw how from the crags and clefts below His proud and stately pleasant top grew out, And how his sides were clad with frost and snow, The height was green with herbs and flowerets sout, Like hairy locks the trees about him grow, The rocks of ice keep watch and ward about, The tender roses and the lilies new, Thus art can nature change, and kind subdue.

XLVII Within a thick, a dark and shady plot, At the hill’s foot that night the warriors dwell, But when the sun his rays bright, shining, hot, Dispread of golden light the eternal well, “Up, up,” they cried, and fiercely up they got, And climbed boldly gainst the mountain fell; But forth there crept, from whence I cannot say, An ugly serpent which forestalled their way.

XLVIII Armed with golden scales his head and crest He lifted high, his neck swelled great with ire, Flamed his eyes, and hiding with his breast All the broad path, he poison breathed and fire, Now reached he forth in folds and forward pressed, Now would he back in rolls and heaps retire, Thus he presents himself to guard the place, The knights pressed forward with assured pace:

XLIX Charles drew forth his brand to strike the snake; Ubaldo cried, “Stay, my companion dear, Will you with sword or weapon battle make Against this monster that affronts us here?” This said, he gan his charmed rod to shake, So that the serpent durst not hiss for fear, But fled, and dead for dread fell on the grass, And so the passage plain, eath, open was.

L A little higher on the way they met A lion fierce that hugely roared and cried, His crest he reared high, and open set Of his broad-gaping jaws the furnace wide, His stern his back oft smote, his rage to whet, But when the sacred staff he once espied A trembling fear through his bold heart was spread, His native wrath was gone, and swift he fled.

LI The hardy couple on their way forth wend, And met a host that on them roar and gape, Of savage beasts, tofore unseen, unkend, Differing in voice, in semblance, and in shape; All monsters which hot Afric doth forthsend, Twixt Nilus, Atlas, and the southern cape, Were all there met, and all wild beasts besides Hyrcania breeds, or Hyrcane forest hides.

LII But yet that fierce, that strange and savage host Could not in presence of those worthies stand, But fled away, their heart and courage lost, When Lord Ubaldo shook his charming wand. No other let their passage stopped or crossed; Till on the mountain’s top themselves they land, Save that the ice, the frost, and drifted snow, Oft made them feeble, weary, faint and slow.

LIII But having passed all that frozen ground, And overgone that winter sharp and keen, A warm, mild, pleasant, gentle sky they found, That overspread a large and ample green, The winds breathed spikenard, myrrh, and balm around, The blasts were firm, unchanged, stable been, Not as elsewhere the winds now rise now fall, And Phoebus there aye shines, sets not at all.

LIV Not as elsewhere now sunshine bright now showers, Now heat now cold, there interchanged were, But everlasting spring mild heaven down pours,— In which nor rain, nor storm, nor clouds appear,— Nursing to fields, their grass; to grass, his flowers; To flowers their smell; to trees, the leaves they bear: There by a lake a stately palace stands, That overlooks all mountains, seas and lands:

LV The passage hard against the mountain steep These travellers had faint and weary made, That through those grassy plains they scantly creep; They walked, they rested oft, they went, they stayed, When from the rocks, that seemed for joy to weep, Before their feet a dropping crystal played Enticing them to drink, and on the flowers The plenteous spring a thousand streams down pours,

LVI All which, united in the springing grass, Ate forth a channel through the tender green And underneath eternal shade did pass, With murmur shrill, cold, pure, and scantly seen; Yet so transparent, that perceived was The bottom rich, and sands that golden been, And on the brims the silken grass aloft Proffered them seats, sweet, easy, fresh and soft.

LVII “See here the stream of laughter, see the spring,” Quoth they, “of danger and of deadly pain, Here fond desire must by fair governing Be ruled, our lust bridled with wisdom’s rein, Our ears be stopped while these Sirens sing, Their notes enticing man to pleasure vain.” Thus passed they forward where the stream did make An ample pond, a large and spacious lake.

LVIII There on a table was all dainty food That sea, that earth, or liquid air could give, And in the crystal of the laughing flood They saw two naked virgins bathe and dive, That sometimes toying, sometimes wrestling stood, Sometimes for speed and skill in swimming strive, Now underneath they dived, now rose above, And ticing baits laid forth of lust and love.

LIX These naked wantons, tender, fair and white, Moved so far the warriors’ stubborn hearts, That on their shapes they gazed with delight; The nymphs applied their sweet alluring arts, And one of them above the waters quite, Lift up her head, her breasts and higher parts, And all that might weak eyes subdue and take, Her lower beauties veiled the gentle lake.

LX As when the morning star, escaped and fled From greedy waves, with dewy beams up flies, Or as the Queen of Love, new born and bred Of the Ocean’s fruitful froth, did first arise: So vented she her golden locks forth shed Round pearls and crystal moist therein which lies: But when her eyes upon the knights she cast, She start, and feigned her of their sight aghast.

LXI And her fair locks, that in a knot were tied High on her crown, she ’gan at large unfold; Which falling long and thick and spreading wide, The ivory soft and white mantled in gold: Thus her fair skin the dame would clothe and hide, And that which hid it no less fair was hold; Thus clad in waves and locks, her eyes divine, From them ashamed did she turn and twine.

LXII Withal she smiled and she blushed withal, Her blush, her smilings, smiles her blushing graced: Over her face her amber tresses fall, Whereunder Love himself in ambush placed: At last she warbled forth a treble small, And with sweet looks her sweet songs interlaced; “Oh happy men I that have the grace,” quoth she, “This bliss, this heaven, this paradise to see.

LXIII “This is the place wherein you may assuage Your sorrows past, here is that joy and bliss That flourished in the antique golden age, Here needs no law, here none doth aught amiss: Put off those arms and fear not Mars his rage, Your sword, your shield, your helmet needless is; Then consecrate them here to endless rest, You shall love’s champions be, and soldiers blest.