Jerusalem Delivered. Torquato Tasso

hap, that lest thou mercy find

       The gentlest heart on earth is proved unkind.

      LXXI

       "Where none attends, what boots it to complain?

       Men's froward hearts are moved with women's tears

       As marble stones are pierced with drops of rain,

       No plaints find passage through unwilling ears:

       The tyrant, haply, would his wraith restrain

       Heard he these prayers ruthless Godfrey hears,

       Yet not thy fault is this, my chance, I see,

       Hath made even pity, pitiless in thee.

      LXXII

       "So both thy goodness, and good hap, denayed me,

       Grief, sorrow, mischief, care, hath overthrown me,

       The star that ruled my birthday hath betrayed me,

       My genius sees his charge, but dares not own me,

       Of queen-like state, my flight hath disarrayed me,

       My father died, ere he five years had known me,

       My kingdom lost, and lastly resteth now,

       Down with the tree sith broke is every bough.

      LXXIII

       "And for the modest lore of maidenhood,

       Bids me not sojourn with these armed men,

       O whither shall I fly, what secret wood

       Shall hide me from the tyrant? or what den,

       What rock, what vault, what cave can do me good?

       No, no, where death is sure, it resteth then

       To scorn his power and be it therefore seen,

       Armida lived, and died, both like a queen."

      LXXIV

       With that she looked as if a proud disdain

       Kindled displeasure in her noble mind,

       The way she came she turned her steps again,

       With gesture sad but in disdainful kind,

       A tempest railed down her cheeks amain,

       With tears of woe, and sighs of anger's wind;

       The drops her footsteps wash, whereon she treads,

       And seems to step on pearls, or crystal beads.

      LXXV

       Her cheeks on which this streaming nectar fell,

       Stilled through the limbeck of her diamond eyes,

       The roses white and red resembled well,

       Whereon the rory May-dew sprinkled lies

       When the fair morn first blusheth from her cell,

       And breatheth balm from opened paradise;

       Thus sighed, thus mourned, thus wept this lovely queen,

       And in each drop bathed a grace unseen.

      LXXVI

       Thrice twenty Cupids unperceived flew

       To gather up this liquor, ere it fall,

       And of each drop an arrow forged new,

       Else, as it came, snatched up the crystal ball,

       And at rebellious hearts for wildfire threw.

       O wondrous love! thou makest gain of all;

       For if she weeping sit, or smiling stand,

       She bends thy bow, or kindleth else thy brand.

      LXXVII

       This forged plaint drew forth unfeigned tears

       From many eyes, and pierced each worthy's heart;

       Each one condoleth with her that her hears,

       And of her grief would help her bear the smart:

       If Godfrey aid her not, not one but swears

       Some tigress gave him suck on roughest part

       Midst the rude crags, on Alpine cliffs aloft:

       Hard is that heart which beauty makes not soft.

      LXXVIII

       But jolly Eustace, in whose breast the brand

       Of love and pity kindled had the flame,

       While others softly whispered underhand,

       Before the duke with comely boldness came:

       "Brother and lord," quoth he, "too long you stand

       In your first purpose, yet vouchsafe to frame

       Your thoughts to ours, and lend this virgin aid:

       Thanks are half lost when good turns are delayed.

      LXXIX

       "And think not that Eustace's talk assays

       To turn these forces from this present war,

       Or that I wish you should your armies raise

       From Sion's walls, my speech tends not so far:

       But we that venture all for fame and praise,

       That to no charge nor service bounden are,

       Forth of our troop may ten well spared be

       To succor her, which naught can weaken thee.

      LXXX

       "And know, they shall in God's high service fight,

       That virgins innocent save and defend:

       Dear will the spoils be in the Heaven's sight,

       That from a tyrant's hateful head we rend:

       Nor seemed I forward in this lady's right,

       With hope of gain or profit in the end;

       But for I know he arms unworthy bears,

       To help a maiden's cause that shuns or fears.

      LXXXI

       "Ah! be it not pardie declared in France,

       Or elsewhere told where courtesy is in prize,

       That we forsook so fair a chevisance,

       For doubt or fear that might from fight arise;

       Else, here surrender I both sword and lance,

       And swear no more to use this martial guise;

       For ill deserves he to be termed a knight,

       That bears a blunt sword in a lady's right."

      LXXXII

       Thus parleyed he, and with confused sound,

       The rest approved what the gallant said,

       Their general their knights encompassed round,

       With humble grace, and earnest suit they prayed:

       "I yield," quoth he, "and it be happy found,

       What I have granted, let her have your aid:

       Yours be the thanks, for yours the danger is,

       If aught succeed, as much I fear, amiss.

      LXXXIII

       "But if with you my words may credit find,

       Oh temper then this heat misguides you so!"

       Thus much he said, but they with fancy blind,

       Accept his grant, and let his counsel go.

       What works not beauty, man's relenting mind

       Is eath to move with plaints and shows of woe:

       Her lips cast forth a chain of sugared words,

       That captive led most of the Christian lords.

      LXXXIV