Stories from the Italian Poets: With Lives of the Writers, Vol. 2 - Leigh Hunt
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Canto xii. st. 24.]
[Footnote 4: The poet here compares his hero and heroine to two jealous
"bulls," no happy comparison certainly.
"Vansi a ritrovar non altrimenti
Che duo tori gelosi." St. 53.]
[Footnote 5:
"Qual l'alto Egeo, perche Aquilone o Noto
Cessi, che tutto prima il volse e scosse,
Non s'accheta pero, ma 'l suono e 'l moto
Ritien de l'onde anco agitate e grosse;
Tal, se ben manca in lor col sangue voto
Quel vigor che le braccia ai colpi mosse,
Serbano ancor l'impeto primo, e vanno
Da quel sospinti a giunger danno a danno."
Canto xii. st. 63.]
[Footnote 6: This tomb, Tancred says, in an address which he makes to it,
"has his flames inside of it, and his tears without:"
"Che dentro hai le mie fiamme, e fuori il pianto." St. 96.]
I am loath to disturb the effect of a really touching story; but if I do
not occasionally give instances of these conceits, my translations will
belie my criticism.]
RINALDO AND ARMIDA:
WITH THE
ADVENTURES OF THE ENCHANTED FOREST.
Argument.
PART I.--Satan assembles the fiends in council to consider the best means
of opposing the Christians. Armida, the niece of the wizard king of
Damascus, is incited to go to their camp under false pretences, and
endeavour to weaken it; which she does by seducing away many of the
knights, and sowing a discord which ends in the flight of Rinaldo.
PART II.--Armida, after making the knights feel the power of her magic,
dismisses them bound prisoners for Damascus. They are rescued on their
way by Rinaldo. Armida pursues him in wrath, but falls in love with him.
PART III.--The magician Ismeno succeeds in frightening the Christians in
their attempt to cut wood from the Enchanted Forest. Rinaldo is sent for,
as the person fated to undo the enchantment.
PART IV.--Rinaldo and Armida, in love with each other, pass their time in
a bower of bliss. He is fetched away by two knights, and leaves her in
despair.
PART V.--Rinaldo disenchants the forest, and has the chief hand in the
taking of Jerusalem. He meets and reconciles Armida. RINALDO AND ARMIDA,
ETC.
Part the First
ARMIDA IN THE CHRISTIAN CAMP.
The Christians had now commenced their attack on Jerusalem, and brought a
great rolling tower against the walls, built from the wood of a forest in
the neigbbourhood; when the Malignant Spirit, who has never ceased his
war with Heaven, cast in his mind how he might best defeat their purpose.
It was necessary to divide their forces; to destroy their tower; to
hinder them from building another; and to make one final triumphant
effort against the whole progress of their arms.
Forgetting how the right arm of God could launch its thunderbolts, the
Fiend accordingly seated himself on his throne, and ordered his powers to
be brought together. The Tartarean trumpet, with its hoarse voice, called
up the dwellers in everlasting darkness. The huge black caverns trembled
to their depths, and the blind air rebellowed with the thunder. The bolt
does not break forth so horribly when it comes bursting after the flash
out of the heavens; nor had the world before ever trembled with such an
earthquake.[1]
The gods of the abyss came thronging up on all sides through the
gates;--terrible-looking beings with unaccountable aspects, dispensers of
death and horror with their eyes;--some stamping with hoofs, some rolling
on enormous spires,--their faces human, their hair serpents. There were
thousands of shameless Harpies, of pallid Gorgons, of barking Scyllas,
of Chimeras that vomited ashes, and of monsters never before heard or
thought of, with perverse aspects all mixed up in one.
The Power of Evil sat looking down upon them, huger than a rock in the
sea, or an alp with forked summits. A certain horrible majesty augmented
the terrors of his aspect. His eyes reddened; his poisonous look hung in
the air like a comet; the mouth, as it opened in the midst of clouds of
beard, seemed an abyss of darkness and blood; and out of it, as from a
volcano, issued fires, and vapours, and disgust.
Satan laid forth to his dreadful hearers his old quarrel with Heaven,
and its new threats of an extension of its empire. Christendom was to be
brought into Asia; their worshippers were to perish; souls were to be
rescued from their devices, and Satan's kingdom on earth put an end to.
He exhorted them therefore to issue forth once for all and prevent this
fatal consummation by the destruction of the Christian forces. Some of
the leaders he bade them do their best to disperse, others to slay,
others to draw into effeminate pleasures, into rebellion, into the ruin
of the whole camp, so that not a vestige might remain of its existence.
The assembly broke up with the noise of hurricanes. They issued forth
to look once more upon the stars, and to sow seeds every where of
destruction to the Christians. Satan himself followed them, and entered
the heart of Hydraotes, king of Damascus.
Hydraotes was a wizard as well as a king, and held the Christians in
abhorrence. But he was wise enough to respect their valour; and with
Satan's help he discerned the likeliest way to counteract it. He had a
niece, who was the greatest beauty of the age. He had taught her his art:
and he concluded, that the enchantments of beauty and magic united would
prove irresistible. He therefore disclosed to her his object. He told her
that every artifice was lawful, when the intention was to serve one's
country and one's faith; and he conjured her to do her utmost to separate
Godfrey himself from his army, or in the event of that not being
possible, to bring away as many as she could of his noblest captains.
Armida (for that was her name), proud of her beauty, and of the unusual
arts that she had acquired, took her way the same evening, alone, and by
the most sequestered paths,--a female in gown and tresses issuing forth
to conquer an army.[2]
She had not travelled many days ere she came in sight of the Christian
camp, the outskirts of which she entered immediately. The Frenchmen all
flocked to see her, wondering who she was, and who could have sent them
so lovely a messenger. Armida passed onwards, not with a misgiving air,
not with an unalluring, and yet not with an immodest one. Her golden
tresses she suffered at one moment to escape from under her veil, and
at another she gathered them again within it. Her rosy mouth breathed
simplicity as well as voluptuousness. Her bosom was so artfully draped,
as to let itself be discerned without seeming to intend it. And thus she
passed along, surprising and transporting every body. Coming at length
among the tents of the officers, she requested to be shewn that of the
leader; and Eustace eagerly stepped forward to conduct her.
Eustace was the younger brother of Godfrey. He had all the ardour of his
time of life, and the gallantry, in every respect, of a Frenchman. After
paying her a profusion of compliments, and learning that she was a
fugitive in distress, he promised her every thing which his brother's
authority and his own sword could do for her; and so led her into
Godfrey's presence.
The pretended fugitive made a lowly obeisance, and then stood mute and
blushing, till the general re-assured her. She then told him, that she
was the rightful queen of Damascus, whose throne was usurped by an uncle;
that her uncle sought her death, from which she had been saved by the man
who was bribed to inflict it; and that although her creed was Mahometan,
she had brought her mind to conclude, that so noble an enemy as Godfrey
would take pity on her condition, and permit some of his captains to aid
the secret wishes of her people, and seat her on the throne. Ten selected
chiefs would overcome, she said, all opposition; and she promised in
return to become his grateful and faithful vassal.
The leader of the Christian army sat a while in deliberation. His heart
was inclined to befriend the lady, but his prudence was afraid of a Pagan
artifice. He thought also that it did not become his piety to turn aside
from the enterprise which God had favoured. He therefore gave her a
gentle refusal; but added, that should success attend him, and Jerusalem
be taken, he would instantly do what she required.
Armida looked down, and wept. A mixture of indignation and despair
appeared to seize her; and exclaiming that she had no longer a wish to
live, she accused, she said, not a heart so renowned for generosity as
his, but Heaven itself which had steeled it against her. What was she to
do? She could not remain in his camp. Virgin modesty forbade that. She
was not safe out of its bounds. Her enemies tracked her steps. It was fit
that she should die by her own hand.
An indignant pity took possession of the French officers. They wondered
how Godfrey could resist the prayers of a creature so beautiful; and
Eustace openly, though respectfully, remonstrated. He said, that if ten
of the best of his captains could not be spared, ten others might;
that it especially became the Christians to redress the wrongs of the
innocent; that the death of a tyrant, instead of being a deviation from
the service of God, was one of the directest means of performing it; and
that France would never endure to hear, that a lady had applied to her
knights for assistance, and found her suit refused.
A murmur of approbation followed the words of Eustace. His companions
pressed nearer to the general, and warmly urged his request.
Godfrey assented to a wish expressed by so many, but not with perfect
goodwill. He bade them remember, that the measure was the result of their
own opinion, not his; and concluded by requesting them at all events, for
his sake, to moderate the excess of their confidence. The transported
warriors had scarcely any answer to make but that of congratulations to
the lady. She, on her side, while mischief was rejoicing in her heart,
first expressed her gratitude to all in words intermixed with smiles and
tears, and then carried herself towards every one in particular in the
manner which she thought most fitted to ensnare. She behaved to this
person with cordiality, to that with comparative reserve; to one with
phrases only, to another with looks besides, and intimations of secret
preference. The ardour of some she repressed, but still in a manner to
rekindle it. To others she was all gaiety and attraction; and when others
again had their eyes upon her, she would fall into fits of absence, and
shed tears, as if in secret, and then look up suddenly and laugh, and put
on a cheerful patience. And thus she drew them all into her net.
Yet none of all these men confessed that passion impelled them; every
body laid his enthusiasm to the account of honour--Eustace particularly,
because he was most in love. He was also very jealous, especially of the
heroical Rinaldo, Prince of Este; and as the squadron of horse to which
they both belonged--the greatest in the army--had lately been deprived of
its chief, Eustace cast in his mind how he might keep Rinaldo from going
with Armida, and at the same time secure his own attendance on her, by
advancing him to the vacant post. He offered his services to Rinaldo for
the purpose, not without such emotion as let the hero into his secret;
but as the latter had no desire to wait on the lady, he smilingly
assented, agreeing at the same time to assist the wishes of the lover.
The emissaries of Satan, however, were at work in all quarters. If
Eustace was jealous of Rinaldo as a rival in love, Gernando, Prince of
Norway, another of the squadron that had lost its chief, was no less
so of his gallantry in war, and of his qualifications for being his
commander. Gernando was a haughty barbarian, who thought that every sort
of pre-eminence was confined to princes of blood royal. He heard of
the proposal of Eustace with a disgust that broke into the unworthiest
expressions. He even vented it in public, in the open part of the camp,
when Rinaldo was standing at no great distance; and the words coming to
the hero's ears, and breaking down the tranquillity of his contempt,
the latter darted towards him, sword in hand, and defied him to single
combat. Gernando beheld death before him, but made a show of valour, and
stood on his defence. A thousand swords leaped forth to back him, mixed
with as many voices; and half the camp of Godfrey tried to withhold the
impetuous youth who was for deciding his quarrel without the general's
leave. But the hero's transport was not to be stopped; he dashed through
them all, forced the Norwegian to encounter him, and after a storm of
blows that dazzled the man's eyes and took away his senses, ran his sword
thrice through the prince's body. He then sent the blade into its sheath
reeking as it was, and, taking his way back to his tent, reposed in the
calmness of his triumph.
The victor had scarcely gone, when the general arrived on the ground. He
beheld the slain Prince of Norway with acute feelings of regret. What was
to become of his army, if the leaders thus quarrelled among themselves,
and his authority was set at nought? The friends of the slain man
increased his anger against Rinaldo, by charging him with all the blame
of the catastrophe. The hero's friend, Tancred, assuaged it somewhat by
disclosing the truth, and then ventured to ask pardon for the outbreak.
But the wise commander skewed so many reasons why such an offence could
not be overlooked, and his countenance expressed such a determination to
resent it, that the gallant youth hastened secretly to his friend, and
urged him to quit the camp till his services should be needed. Rinaldo at
first called for his arms, and was bent on resisting every body who came
to seize him, had it been even Godfrey himself; but Tancred shewing
him how unjust that would be, and how fatal to the Christian cause, he
consented with an ill grace to depart. He would take nobody with him but
two squires; and he went away raging with a sense of ill requital for
his achievements, but resolving to prove their value by destroying every
infidel prince that he could encounter.
Armida now tried in vain to make an impression on the heart of Godfrey.
He was insensible to all her devices; but she succeeded in quitting the
camp with her ten champions. Lots were drawn to determine who should go;
and all who failed to be in the list--Eustace among them--were so jealous
of the rest, that at night-time, after the others had been long on
the road, they set out to overtake them, each by himself, and all in
violation of their soldierly words. The ten opposed them as they came up,
but to no purpose. Armida reconciled them all in appearance, by feigning
to be devoted to each in secret; and thus she rode on with them many a
mile, till she came to a castle on the Dead Sea, where she was accustomed
to practise her unfriendliest arts.
Meanwhile news came to Godfrey that his Egyptian enemies were at hand
with a great fleet, and that his caravan of provisions had been taken by
the robbers of the desert. His army was thus threatened with ruin from
desertion, starvation, and the sword. He maintained a calm and even a
cheerful countenance; but in his thoughts he had great anxiety.
Part the Second.
ARMIDA'S HATE AND LOVE.
The castle to which Armida took her prisoners occupied an island close to
the shore in the loathsome Dead Sea. They entered it by means of a narrow
bridge; but if their pity had been great at seeing her forced to take
refuge in a spot so desolate and repulsive, how pleasingly was it changed
into as great a surprise at finding a totally different region within the
walls! The gardens were extensive and lovely; the rivulets and fountains
as sweet as the flowery thickets they watered; the breezes refreshing,
the skies of a sapphire blue, and the birds were singing round about them
in the trees. Her riches astonished them no less. The side of the castle
that looked on the gardens was all marble and gold; a banquet awaited
them beside a water on a shady lawn, consisting of the exquisitest viands
on the costliest plate; and a hundred beautiful maidens attended them
while they feasted. The enchantress was all smiles and delight; and such
was her art, that although she bestowed no favour on any body beyond his
banquet and his hopes, every body thought himself the favoured lover.
But no sooner was the feast over, than the greatest and worst of their
astonishments ensued. The lady quitted them, saying she should return
presently. She did so with a troubled and unfriendly countenance, having
a book in one hand, and a little wand in the other. She read in the book
in a low voice, and while she was reading shook the little wand; and the
guests, altering in every part of their being, and shrinking into minute
bodies, felt an inclination, which they obeyed, to plunge into the water
beside them. They were fish. In a little while they were again men,
looking her in the face with dread and amazement. She had restored them
to their humanity. She regarded them with a severe countenance, and said
"You have tasted my power; I can exercise it far more terribly--can put
you in dungeons for ever--can turn you to roots in the ground--to flints
within the rock. Beware of my wrath, and please me; quit your faiths for
mine, and fight against the blasphemer Godfrey."
Every Christian but one rejected her alternative with abhorrence. Him she
made one of her champions; the rest were tied and bound, and after being
kept a while in a dungeon were sent off as a present to the King of
Egypt, with an escort that came from Damascus to fetch them.
Exulting was left the fair and bigoted magician; but she little guessed
what a new fortune awaited them on the road. The discord with which the
powers of evil had seconded her endeavours to weaken the Christian camp,
had turned in this instance against herself. It had made Rinaldo a
wanderer; it had brought his wanderings into this very path; and he now
met the prisoners, and bade defiance to the escort. A battle ensued, in
which the hero won his accustomed victory. The Christians, receiving the
armour of their foes, joyfully took their way back to the camp; and one
of the escort, who escaped the slaughter, returned to Armida with news of
the deliverance of her captives.
The mortified enchantress took horse and went in pursuit of Rinaldo, with
wrath and vengeance in her heart. She tracked him from place to place,
till she knew he must arrive on the banks of the Orontes; and there,
making a stealthy circuit, she cast a spell, and lay in wait for him in a
little island which divided the stream in two.[3]
Rinaldo came up with his squires; he beheld on the bank a pillar of white
marble, and beside it on the water a little boat. The pillar presented
an inscription, inviting travellers to cross to the island and behold a
wonder of the world. The hero accepted the invitation; but as the boat
was too small to hold more than one person, and the circumstance probably
an appeal to his courage, he bade his squires wait for him, and proceeded
by himself.
On reaching the island and casting his eyes eagerly round about, the
adventurer could discern nothing but trees and grottos, flowers and
grass, and water. He thought himself trifled with; but as the spot was
beautiful and refreshing, he took off his helmet, resolving to stay a
little and repose. He crossed to the farther side of the island, and lay
down on the river-side. On a sudden he observed the water bubble and
gurgle in a manner that was very strange; and presently the top of a head
arose with beautiful hair, then the face of a damsel, then the bosom.
The fair creature stood half out of the stream, and warbled a song so
luxurious and so lulling, that the little wind there was seemed to
fall in order to listen; and the young warrior was so drowsed with the
sweetness, that languor crept through all his senses, and he slept.
Armida came from out a thicket and looked on him. She had resolved that
he should perish. But when she saw how placidly he breathed, and what an
intimation of beautiful eyes there was in his very eyelids, she hung over
him, still looking.
In a little while she sat down by his side, always looking. She hung over
him as Narcissus did over the water, and indignation melted out of her
heart. She cooled his face with her veil; she made a fan of it; she gave
herself up to the worship of those hidden eyes. Of an enemy she became a
lover.[4]
Armida gathered trails of roses and lilies from the thickets around her,
and cast a spell on them, and made bands with which she fettered his
sleeping limbs; and then she called her nymphs, and they put him into her
ear, and she went away with him through the air far off, even to one of
the Fortunate Islands in the great ocean, where her jealousy, assisted by
her art, would be in dread of no visitors, no discovery. She bore him to
the top of a mountain, and cast a spell about the mountain, to make the
top lovely and the sides inaccessible. She put shapes of wild beasts
and monsters in the woods of the lowest region, and heaps of ice in the
second, and alluring and betraying shapes and enchantments towards the
summit; and round the summit she put walls and labyrinths of inextricable
error; and in the heart of these was a palace by a lake, and the
loveliest of gardens.
Mere Rinaldo was awaked by love and beauty; and here for the present he
is left.
Part the Third.
THE TERRORS OF THE ENCHANTED FOREST.
Meantime the siege of the Holy City had gone on, with various success on
either side, but chiefly to the loss of the Christians. The machinations
of Satan were prevailing. Rinaldo, in his absence, was thought to have
been slain by the contrivance of Godfrey, which nearly produced a revolt
of the forces. Godfrey was himself wounded in battle by Clorinda: and now
the great wooden tower was burnt, and Clorinda slain in consequence (as
you have heard in another place), which oppressed the courage of Tancred
with melancholy.
On the other hand, the Powers of Evil were far from being as prosperous
as they wished. They had lost the soul of Clorinda. They had seen Godfrey
healed by a secret messenger from Heaven, who dropt celestial balsam
into his wound. They had seen the return of Armida's prisoners, who had
arrived just in time to change the fortune of a battle, and drive the
Pagans back within their walls. And worse than all, they had again felt
the arm of St. Michael, who had threatened them with worse consequences
if they reappeared in the contest.
The fiends, however, had colleagues on earth, who plotted for them
meanwhile. The Christians had set about making another tower; but in
this proceeding they were thwarted by the enchanter Ismeno, who cast his
spells to better purpose this time than he had done in the affair of the
stolen image. The forest in which the Christians obtained wood for these
engines lay in a solitary valley, not far from the camp. It was very old,
dark, and intricate; and had already an evil fame as the haunt of impure
spirits. No shepherd ever took his flock there; no Pagan would cut a
bough from it; no traveller approached it, unless he had lost his way:
he made a large circuit to avoid it, and pointed it out anxiously to his
companions.
The necessity of the Christians compelled them to defy this evil repute
of the forest; and Ismeno hastened to oppose them. He drew his line, and
uttered his incantations, and called on the spirits whom St. Michael had
rebuked, bidding them come and take charge of the forest--every one of
his tree, as a soul of its body. The spirits delayed at first, not only
for dread of the great angel, but because they resented the biddings of
mortality, even in their own cause. The magician, however, persisted; and
his spells becoming too powerful to be withstood, presently they came
pouring in by myriads, occupying the whole place, and rendering the very
approach to it a task of fear and labour. The first party of men that
came to cut wood were unable to advance when they beheld the trees, but
turned like children, and became the mockery of the camp. Godfrey sent
them back, with a chosen squadron to animate them to the work; but the
squadron themselves, however boldly they affected to proceed, lead no
sooner approached the spot, than they found reason to forgive the fears
of the woodcutters. The earth shook; a great wind began rising, with a
sound of waters; and presently, every dreadful noise ever heard by man
seemed mingled into one, and advancing to meet them--roarings of lions,
hissings of serpents, pealings and rolls of thunder. The squadron went
back to Godfrey, and plainly confessed that it had not courage enough to
enter such a place.
A leader, of the name of Alcasto, shook his head at this candour with a
contemptuous smile. He was a man of the stupider sort of courage, without
mind enough to conceive danger. "Pretty soldiers," exclaimed he, "to be
afraid of noises and sights! Give the duty to me. Nothing shall stop
Alcasto, though the place be the mouth of hell."