Stories from the Italian Poets: With Lives of the Writers, Vol. 2 - Leigh Hunt
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Armida came sweetly towards him, with a countenance at once grieving and
rejoicing, but expressing above all infinite affection. "And do I indeed
see thee again?" she said; "and wilt thou not fly me a second time? am
I visited to be consoled, or to be treated again as an enemy? is poor
Armida so formidable, that thou must needs close up thine helmet when
thou beholdest her? Thou mightest surely have vouchsafed her once more a
sight of thine eyes. Let us be friends, at least, if we may be nothing
more. Wilt thou not take her hand?"
Rinaldo's answer was, to turn away as from a cheat, to look towards the
myrtle-tree, to draw his sword, and proceed with manifest intentions of
assailing it. She ran before him shrieking, and hugged it round. "Nay,
thou wilt not," she said, "thou wilt not hurt my tree--not cut and slay
what is bound up with the life of Armida? Thy sword must pass first
through her bosom."
Armida writhed and wailed; Rinaldo nevertheless raised his sword, and it
was coming against the tree, when her shape, like a thing in a dream,
was metamorphosed as quick as lightning. It became a giant, a Briareus,
wielding a hundred swords, and speaking in a voice of thunder. Every
one of the nymphs at the same instant became a Cyclops; tempest and
earthquake ensued, and the air was full of ghastly spectres.
Rinaldo again raised his arm with a more vehement will; he struck, and
at the same instant every horror disappeared. The sky was cloudless; the
forest was neither terrible nor beautiful, but heavy and sombre as of
old--a natural gloomy wood, but no prodigy.
Rinaldo returned to the camp, his aspect that of a conqueror; the silver
wings of his crest, the white eagle, glittering in the sun. The hermit
Peter came forward to greet him; a shout was sent up by the whole camp;
Godfrey gave him high reception; nobody envied him. Workmen, no longer
trembling, were sent to the forest to cut wood for the machines of war;
and the tower was rebuilt, together with battering-rams and balistas, and
catapults, most of them an addition to what they had before. The tower
also was now clothed with bulls-hides, as a security against being set on
fire; and a bridge was added to the tower, from which the besiegers could
at once step on the city-walls.
With these long-desired invigorations of his strength, the commander of
the army lost no time in making a general assault on Jerusalem; for
a dove, supernaturally pursued by a falcon, had brought him letters
intended for the besieged, informing them, that if they could only hold
out four days longer, their Egyptian allies would be at hand. The Pagans
beheld with dismay the resuscitated tower, and all the new engines coming
against them. They fought valiantly; but Rinaldo and Godfrey prevailed.
The former was the first to scale the walls, the latter to plant his
standard from the bridge. The city was entered on all sides, and the
enemy driven, first into Solomon's Temple, and then into the Citadel, or
Tower of David. Before the assault, Godfrey had been vouchsafed a sight
of armies of angels in the air, accompanied by the souls of those who had
fallen before Jerusalem; the latter still fighting, the former rejoicing;
so that there was no longer doubt of triumph; only it still pleased
Heaven that human virtue should be tried.
And now, after farther exploits on both sides, the last day of the war,
and the last hope of the Infidels, arrived at the same time; for the
Egyptian army came up to give battle with the Christians, and to restore
Jerusalem, if possible, to its late owners, now cramped up in one corner
of it--the citadel. The besiegers in their narrow hold raised a shout of
joy at the sight; and Godfrey, leaving them to be detained in it by an
experienced captain, went forth to meet his new opponents. Crowns of
Africa and of Persia were there, and the king of the Indies; and in the
midst of all, in a chariot surrounded by her knights and suitors, was
Armida.
The battle joined, and great was the bravery and the slaughter on both
sides. It seemed at first all glitter and gaiety--its streamers flying,
its arms flashing, drums and trumpets rejoicing, and horses rushing with
their horsemen as to the tournament. Horror looked beautiful in the
spectacle. Out of the midst of the dread itself there issued a delight.
But soon it was a bloody, and a turbulent, and a raging, and a groaning
thing:--pennons down, horses and men rolling over, foes heaped upon one
another, bright armour exchanged for blood and dirt, flesh trampled, and
spirit fatigued. Brave were the Pagans; but how could they stand against
Heaven? Godfrey ordered every thing calmly, like a divine mind; Rinaldo
swept down the fiercest multitudes, like an arm of God. The besieged in
the citadel broke forth, only to let the conquerors in. Jerusalem was won
before the battle was over. King after king fell, and yet the vanquished
did not fly. Rinaldo went every where to hasten the rout; and still had
to fight and slay on. Armida beheld him coming where she sat in the midst
of her knights; he saw her, and blushed a little: she turned as cold as
ice, then as hot as fire. Her anger was doubled by the slaughter of her
friends; and with her woman's hand she sent an arrow out of her bow,
hoping, and yet even then hoping not, to slay or to hurt him. The arrow
fell on him like a toy; and he turned aside, as she thought, in disdain.
Yet he disdained not to smite down her champions. Hope of every kind
deserted her. Resolving to die by herself in some lonely spot, she got
down from her chariot to horse, and fled out of the field. Rinaldo saw
the flight; and though one of the knights that remained to her struck him
such a blow as made him reel in his saddle, he despatched the man with
another like a thunderbolt, and then galloped after the fugitive.
Armida was in the act of putting a shaft to her bosom, in order to die
upon it, when her arm was arrested by a mighty grasp; and turning round,
she beheld with a shriek the beloved face of him who had caused the ruin
of her and hers. She closed her disdainful eyes and fainted away. Rinaldo
supported her; he loosened her girdle; he bathed her bosom and her
eyelids with his tears. Coming at length to herself, still she would
not look at him. She would fain not have been supported by him. She
endeavoured with her weak fingers to undo the strong ones that clasped
her; she wept bitterly, and at length spoke, but still without meeting
his eyes.
"And may I not," she said, "even die? must I be followed and tormented
even in my last moments? What mockery of a wish to save me is this! I
will not be watched; I believe not a syllable of such pity; and I will
not be made a sight of, and a by-word. I ask my life of thee no longer;
I want nothing but death; and death itself I would not receive at such
hands; they would render even that felicity hateful. Leave me. I could
not be hindered long from putting an end to my miseries, whatever
barbarous restraint might be put upon me. There are a thousand ways of
dying; and I will be neither hindered, nor deceived, nor flattered--oh,
never more!"
Weeping she spoke--weeping always, and sobbing, and full of wilful words.
But yet she felt all the time the arm that was round her.
"Armida," said Rinaldo, in a voice full of tenderness, "be calm, and know
me for what I am--no enemy, no conqueror, nothing that intends thee shame
or dishonour; but thy champion, thy restorer--he that will preserve thy
kingdom for thee, and seat thee in house and home. Look at me--look in
these eyes, and see if they speak false. And oh, would to Heaven thou
wouldst indeed be as I am in faith. There isn't a queen in all the East
should equal thee in glory."
His tears fell on her eyelids as he spoke--scalding tears; and she looked
at him, and her heart re-opened to its lord, all love and worship; and
Armida said, "Behold thy handmaid; dispose of her even as thou wilt."
And that same day Godfrey of Boulogne was lord of Jerusalem, and paid his
vows on the sepulchre of his Master.
[Footnote 1:
"Chiama gli abitator' de l'ombre eterne
Il rauco suon de la tartarea tromba.
Treman le spaziose atre caverne,
E l'aer cieco a quel romor rimbomba.
Ne si stridendo mai da le superne
Regioni del cielo il folgor piomba:
Ne si scossa gia mai trema la terra,
Quando i vapori in sen gravida serra."
Canto iv. st. 3.
The trump of Tartarus, with iron roar,
Called to the dwellers the black regions under:
Hell through its caverns trembled to the core,
And the blind air rebellowed to the thunder:
Never yet fiery bolt more fiercely tore
The crashing firmament, like rocks, asunder;
Nor with so huge a shudder earth's foundations
Shook to their mighty heart, lifting the nations.
The tone of this stanza (suggested otherwise by Vida) was caught from a
fine one in Politian, the passage in which about the Nile I ought to have
called to mind at page 168.
"Con tal romor, qualor l'aer discorda,
Di Giove il foco d'alta nube piomba:
Con tal tumulto, onde la gente assorda,
Da l'alte cataratte il Nil rimbomba:
Con tal orror del Latin sangue ingorda
Sono Megera la tartarea tromba."
_Fragment on the Jousting of Giuliano de' Medici_.
Such is the noise, when through his cloudy floor
The bolt of Jove falls on the pale world under;
So shakes the land, where Nile with deafening roar
Plunges his clattering cataracts in thunder;
Horribly so, through Latium's realm of yore,
The trump of Tartarus blew ghastly wonder.]
[Footnote 2:
"La bella Armida, di sua forma altiera,
E de' doni del sesso e de l'etate,
L' impresa prende: e in su la prima sera
Parte, e tiene sol vie chiuse e celate:
E 'n treccia e 'n gonna femminile spera
Vincer popoli invitti e schiere armate."
Canto iv. st. 27.]
[Footnote 3:
"That sweet grove
Of Daphne by Orontes."
_Parad. Lost_, b. iv.
It was famous for the most luxurious worship of antiquity. Vide Gibbon,
vol. iii. p. 198.]
[Footnote 4: I omit a point about "fires" of love, and "ices" of the
heart; and I will here observe, once for all, that I omit many such in
these versions of Tasso, for the reason given in the Preface.]
[Footnote 5: In the original, an impetuous gust of wind carries away the
sword of Tancred; a circumstance which I mention because Collins admired
it (see his Ode on the Superstitions of the Highlands). I confess I
cannot do so. It seems to me quite superfluous; and when the reader
finds the sword conveniently lying for the hero outside the wood, as he
returns, the effect is childish and pantomimic. If the magician wished
him not to fight any more, why should he give him the sword back? And if
it was meant as a present to him from Clorinda, what gave her the
power to make the present? Tasso retained both the particulars in the
_Gerusalemme Conquistata_.]
[Footnote 6:
"Giace l'alta Cartago: appena i segni
De l'alte sue ruine il lido serba.
Muoiono le citta: muoiono i regni:
Copre i fasti e le pompe arena ed erba:
E l'uom d'esser mortal par che si sdegni.
Oh nostra mente cupida e superba!"
Canto xv. st. 20.
Great Carthage is laid low. Scarcely can eye
Trace where she stood with all her mighty crowd
For cities die; kingdoms and nations die;
A little sand and grass is all their shroud;
Yet mortal man disdains mortality!
O mind of ours, inordinate and proud!
Very fine is this stanza of Tasso; and yet, like some of the finest
writing of Gray, it is scarcely more than a cento. The commentators call
it a "beautiful imitation" of a passage in Sannazzaro; and it is; but the
passage in Sannazzaro is also beautiful. It contains not only the "Giace
Cartago," and the "appena i segni," &c., but the contrast of the pride
with the mortality of man, and, above all, the "dying" of the cities,
which is the finest thing in the stanza of its imitator.
"Qua devictae Carthaginis arces
Procubuere, jacentque infausto in littore turres
Eversae; quantum ille metus, quantum illa laborum
Urbs dedit insultans Latio et Laurentibus arvis!
Nunc passim vix reliquias, vix nomina servans,
Obruitur propriis non agnoscenda ruinis.
Et querimur genus infelix, humana labare
Membra aevo, cum regna palam moriantur et urbes."
_De Partu Virginis_, lib. ii.
The commentators trace the conclusion of this passage to Dante, where he
says that it is no wonder families perish, when cities themselves "have
their terminations" (termin hanuo): but though there is a like germ of
thought in Dante, the mournful flower of it, the word "death," is not
there. It was evidently suggested by a passage (also pointed out by the
commentators) in the consolatory letter of Sulpicius to Cicero, on the
death of his daughter Tullia;--"Heu nos homunculi indignamur, si quis
nostrum interiit, aut occisus est, quorum vita brevior esse debet, cum
uno loco tot oppidorum cadavera projecta jaceant." (Alas! we poor human
creatures are indignant if any one of us dies or is slain, frail as are
the materials of which we are constituted; and yet we can see, lying
together in one place, the dead bodies of I know not how many cities!)
The music of Tasso's line was indebted to one in Petrarch's _Trionfo del
Tempo, v. 112
_" Passan le signorie, passano i regni;"
and the fine concluding verse, "Oh nostra mente," to another perhaps
in his _Trionfo della Divinita, v. 61_, not without a recollection of
Lucretius, lib. ii. v. 14:
"O miseras hominum menteis! o pectora caeca!"]
[Footnote 7: A fountain which caused laughter that killed people is in
Pomponius Mela's account of the Fortunate Islands; and was the origin of
that of Boiardo; as I ought to have noticed in the place.]
[Footnote 8: All this description of the females bathing is in the
highest taste of the voluptuous; particularly the latter part:
"Qual mattutina stella esce de l'onde
Rugiadosa e stillante: o come fuore
Spunto nascendo gia da le feconde
Spume de l'ocean la Dea d'Amore:
Tale apparve costei: tal le sue bionde
Chiome stillavan cristallino umore.
Poi giro gli occhi, e pur allor s'infinse
Que' duo vedere, e in se tutta si strinse:
E 'l crin the 'n cima al capo avea raccolto
In un sol nodo, immantinente sciolse;
Che lunghissimo in giu cadendo, e folto,
D'un aureo manto i molli avori involse.
Oh che vago spettacolo e lor tolto!
Ma mon men vago fu chi loro il tolse.
Cosi da l'acque e da capelli ascosa,
A lor si volse, lieta e vergognosa.
Rideva insieme, e insieme ella arrossia;
Ed era nel rossor piu bello il riso,
E nel riso il rossor, the le copria
Insino al mento il delicato viso."
Canto xv. st. 60.
Spenser, among the other obligations which it delighted him to owe to
this part of Tasso's poem, has translated these last twelve lines:
"With that the other likewise up arose,
And her fair locks, which formerly were bound
Up in one knot, she low adown did loose,
Which, flowing long and thick, her cloth'd around,
And th' ivory in golden mantle gown'd:
So that fair spectacle from him was reft;
Yet that which reft it, no less fair was found.
So hid in locks and waves from looker's theft,
Nought but her lovely face she for his looking left.
Withal she laughed, and she blush'd withal;
That blushing to her laughter gave more grace,
And laughter to her blushing."
Fairy Queen, book ii. canto 12, St. 67.
Tasso's translator, Fairfax, worthy both of his original and of Spenser,
has had the latter before him in his version of the passage, not without
a charming addition of his own at the close of the first stanza:
"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 would she turn and twine.
Withal she smiled, and she blush'd withal;
Her blush her smiling, smiles her blushing graced."]
[Footnote 9:
"E quel che 'l bello e 'l caro accresce a l'opre,
L'arte, the tutto fa, nulla si scopre.
Stimi (si misto il culto e col negletto)
Sol naturali e gli ornamenti e i siti.
Di natura arte par, the per diletto
L'imitatrice sua scherzando imiti."
The idea of Nature imitating Art, and playfully imitating her, is in
Ovid; but that of a mixture of cultivation and wildness is, as far as I
am aware, Tasso's own. It gives him the honour of having been the first
to suggest the picturesque principle of modern gardening; as I ought
to have remembered, when assigning it to Spenser in a late publication
(_Imagination and Fancy, p. 109_). I should have noticed also, in the
same work, the obligations of Spenser to the Italian poet for the passage
before quoted about the nymph in the water.]
[Footnote 10:
"Par che la dura quercia e 'l casto alloro,
E tutta la frondosa ampia famiglia,
Par the la terra e l'acqua e formi e spiri
Dolcissimi d'amor sensi e sospiri."
St. 16.
Fairfax in this passage is very graceful and happy (in the first part of
his stanza he is speaking of a bird that sings with a human voice--which
I have omitted):
"She ceased: and as approving all she spoke,
The choir of birds their heavenly tunes renew;
The turtles sigh'd, and sighs with kisses broke;
The fowls to shades unseen by pairs withdrew;
It seem'd the laurel chaste and stubborn oak,
And all the gentle trees on earth that grew,
It seem'd the land, the sea, and heaven above,
All breath'd out fancy sweet, and sigh'd out love."]
[Footnote 11:
"Ecco tra fronde e fronde il guardo avante
Penetra, e vede, o pargli di vedere,
Vede per certo," &c.
St. 17.]
[Footnote 12: The line about the peacock,
"Spiega la pompa de l'occhiute piume,"
Opens wide the pomp of his eyed plumes,
was such a favourite with Tasso, that he has repeated it from the
_Aminta_, and (I think) in some other place, but I cannot call it to
mind.]
[Footnote 13:
"Teneri sdegni, e placide e tranquille
Repulse, e cari vezzi, e liete paci,
Sorrisi, e parolette, e dolci stille
Di pianto, e sospir' tronchi, e molli baci." St. 5
This is the cestus in Homer, which Venus lends to Juno for the purpose of
enchanting Jupiter
Greek: N kai apo staethesphin elusato keston himanta
Poikilon' entha de ohi thelktaeria panta tetukto'
Enth' heni men philotaes, en d' himeras, en d' oaristus,
Parphasis, hae t' eklepse noon puka per phroneonton.]
Iliad, lib. xiv. 214.
She said; and from her balmy bosom loosed
The girdle that contained all temptinguess--
Love, and desire, and sweet and secret talk
Lavish, which robs the wisest of their wits.]
APPENDIX
* * * * *
No. I.
THE DEATH OF AGRICAN.
BOIARDO.
Orlando ed Agricane un' altra fiata
Ripreso insieme avean crudel battaglia,
La piu terribil mai non fu mirata,
L'arme l'un l'altro a pezzo a pezzo taglia.
Vede Agrican sua gente sbarattata,
Ne le puo dar aiuto, che le vaglia.
Pero che Orlando tanto stretto il tiene,
Che star con seco a fronte gli conviene.
Nel suo segreto fe questo pensiero,
Trar fuor di schiera quel Conte gagliardo;
E poi Che ucciso l'abbia in su 'l sentiero,
Tornare a la battaglia senza tardo;
Pero che a lui par facile e leggiero
Cacciar soletto quel popol codardo;
Che tutti insieme, e 'l suo Re Galafrone,
Non li stimava quanto un vil bottone.
Con tal proposto si pone a fuggire,
Forte correndo sopra la pianura;
Il Conte nulla pensa a quel fallire,
Anzi crede che 'l faccia per paura.
Senz' altro dubbio se 'l pone a seguire,
E gia son giunti ad una selva scura
Appunto in mezzo a quella selva piana,
Era un bel prato intorno a una fontana.
Fermossi ivi Agricane a quella fonte,
E smonto de l'arcion per riposare,
Ma non si tolse l'elmo da la fronte,
Ne piastra, o scudo si volse levare;
E poco dimoro, che giunse 'l Conte,
E come il vide a la fonte aspettare,
Dissegli: Cavalier, tu sei fuggito,
E si forte mostravi e tanto ardito!
Come tanta vergogna puoi soffrire,
A dar le spalle ad un sol cavaliero!
Forse credesti la morte fuggire,
Or vedi che fallito hai il pensiero;
Chi morir puo onorato dee morire;
Che spesse volte avviene e di leggiero,
Che, per durar in questa vita trista,
Morte e vergogna ad un tratto s'acquista.
Agrican prima rimonto in arcione,
Poi con voce soave rispondia
Tu sei per certo il piu franco Barone,
Ch'io mai trovassi ne la vita mia,
E pero del tuo scampo fia cagione
La tua prodezza e quella cortesia,
Che oggi si grande al campo usato m'hai,
Quando soccorso a mia gente donai.
Pero ti voglio la vita lasciare,
Ma non tornasti piu per darmi inciampo.
Questo la fuga mi fe simulare,
Ne v'ebbi altro partito a darti scampo.
Se pur ti piace meco battagliare,
Morto ne rimarrai su questo campo;
Ma siami testimonio il cielo e 'l sole,
Che darti morte mi dispiace e duole.
Il Conte gli rispose molto umano,
Perche avea preso gia di lui pietate;
Quanto sei, disse, piu franco e soprano,
Piu di te mi rincresce in veritate,
Che sarai morto, e non sei Cristiano,
Ed anderai tra l'anime dannate;
Ma se vuoi il corpo e l'anima salvare,
Piglia battesmo, e lascierotti andare.
Disse Agricane, e riguardollo in viso:
Se tu sei Cristiano, Orlando sei.
Chi mi facesse Re del Paradiso,
Con tal ventura non la cangierei;
Ma sin or ti ricordo e dotti avviso,
Che non mi parli de' fatti de' Dei,
Perche potresti predicar invano;
Difenda it suo ciascun co 'l brando in mano.
Ne piu parole; ma trasse Tranchera,
E verso Orlando con ardir s'affronta.
Or si comincia la battaglia fiera,
Con aspri colpi, di taglio e di ponta;
Ciascun e di prodezza una lumiera,
E sterno insieme, com'il libro conta,
Da mezzo giorno insino a notte scura,
Sempre piu franchi a la battaglia dura.
Ma poi che 'l sol avea passato il monte
E cominciossi a far il ciel stellato,
Prima verso del Re parlava it Conte;
Che farem, disse, the 'l giorno n'e andato?
Disse Agricane, con parole pronte:
Ambi ci poseremo in questo prato,
E domattina, come il giorno appare,
Ritorneremo insieme a battagliare.
Cosi d'accordo il partito si prese;
Lega il destrier ciascun come gli piace,
Poi sopra a l'erba verde si distese:
Come fosse tra loro antica pace,
L'uno a l'altro vicino era e palese.
Orlando presso al fonte isteso giace,
Ed Agricane al bosco piu vicino
Stassi colcato, a l'ombra d'un gran pino.
E ragionando insieme tutta via
Di cose degne e condecenti a loro,
Guardava il Conte il ciel, poscia dicia:
Questo the ora veggiamo, e un bel lavoro,
Che fece la divina Monarchia,
La luna d'argento e le stelle d'oro,
E la luce del giorno e 'l sol lucente,
Dio tutto ha fatto per l'umana gente.
Disse Agricane: Io comprendo per certo,
Che to vuoi de la fede ragionare;
Io di nulla scienza son esperto,
Ne mai sendo fanciul, volsi imparare;
E ruppi il capo al maestro mio per merto;
Poi non si pote un altro ritrovare,
Che mi mostrasse libro, ne scrittura,
Tanto ciascun avea di me paura.
E cosi spesi la mia fanciullezza,
In caccie, in giochi d'arme e in cavalcare;
Ne mi par che convenga a gentilezza,
Star tutto il giorno ne' libri a pensare;
Ma la forza del corpo e la destrezza
Conviensi al cavaliero esercitare;
Dottrina al prete, ed al dottor sta bene;
Io tanto saccio quanto mi conviene.
Rispose Orlando: Io tiro teco a un seguo,
Che l'armi son del'uomo il primo onore;
Ma non gia che 'l saper faccia un men degno,
Anzi l'adorna com' un prato il fiore;
Ed e simile a un bove, a un sasso, a un legno,
Che non pensa a l'eterno Creatore;
Ne ben si puo pensar, senza dottrina,
La somma maestade, alta e divina.
Disse Agricane: Egli e gran scortesia
A voler contrastar con avvantaggio.
Io t' ho scoperto la natura mia,
E to conosco, the sei dotto e saggio;
Se piu parlassi, io non risponderia;
Piacendoti dormir, dormiti ad aggio;
E se meco parlar hai pur diletto,
D'arme o d' amor a ragionar t' aspetto.
Ora ti prego, che a quel ch' io domando
Risponda il vero, a fe d' uomo pregiato;
Se in se' veramente quell' Orlando,
Che vien tanto nel mondo nominato;
E perche qui sei giunto, e come, e quando;
E se mai fosti ancora innamorato;
Perche ogni cavalier, ch'e senza amore,
Se in vista e vivo, vivo senza core.