National Epics by Kate Milner Rabb

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To the camp of Godfrey at Emmaus came two ambassadors from the king of
Egypt, Alethes, a supple crafty courtier of low lineage, and Argantes, a
haughty and powerful warrior. But their efforts to keep Godfrey from
Jerusalem, first by persuasion, and then by threats, were in vain.
They were dismissed from the camp, and the army proceeded on its way.

When the walls and towers of the city where Messias died came in sight,
the Christian army, crying "All Hail, Jerusalem!" laid aside their
casques, and, shedding tears, trod barefoot the consecrated way.

At sight of the Franks, the pagans hastened to strengthen the
fortifications of their city, and Aladine from a lofty tower watched
Clorinda attack a band of Franks returning from a foray. At his side was
the lovely Erminia, daughter of the King of Antioch, who had sought
Jerusalem after the downfall of her city.

Erminia instructed Aladine of the various crusaders, and when she pointed
out the noble Tancred, who had treated her with such consideration in
Antioch, she felt her love for him revive, though she pretended to the
king to hate him for his cruelty. Tancred recognized among the leaders of
the pagans Clorinda, bereft of her helmet, and for love of her, refused to
fight her. The pagans, driven back by the Christians, were rallied by
Argantes, but only to be met by the matchless Adventurers under Dudon.
When Dudon fell, the troops under Rinaldo, burning for revenge,
reluctantly obeyed Godfrey's summons to return.

The funeral rites over, the artificers were sent to the forest to fell the
trees, that engines might be fabricated for the destruction of the city
walls.

Angry at the success of the Franks, Satan stirred up the infernal regions,
and set loose his friends to work destruction to the Christians. One he
despatched to the wizard Idraotes, at Damascus, who conceived the scheme
of sending his beautiful niece Armida to ensnare the Christians. In a few
days Armida appeared among the white pavilions of the Franks, attracting
the attention and winning the love of all who saw her. Her golden locks
appeared through her veil as the sunshine gleams through the stormy skies;
her charms were sufficiently hidden to make them the more alluring. So
attired, modestly seeking the camp of Godfrey, she was met by Eustace, his
young brother, and taken to the prince.

With many tears and sighs, she told her pitiful story. She had been driven
from her kingdom, an orphan, by the envy and wickedness of her uncle, and
had come to ask the Christians to aid her in regaining her rights.
Unfortunately for her success, she and her uncle had not calculated on
Godfrey's absorption in his divine undertaking. He was proof against her
charms, and was determined not to be delayed longer in laying siege to the
city. It required the utmost persuasion of Eustace to induce him to permit
ten of the Adventurers to accompany her. Armida, though disappointed in
Godfrey's lack of susceptibility, employed her time so well while in camp
that when she departed with the ten Adventurers chosen by lot, she was
followed secretly by Eustace and many others who had not been chosen, but
who were madly in love with her.

Before his departure, Eustace, jealous of Rinaldo, whom he was fearful
Armida might admire, had persuaded him to aspire to the place of Dudon, to
whom a successor must be elected. Gernando of Norway desired the same
place, and, angry that the popular Rinaldo should be his rival, scattered
through the camp rumors disparaging to his character: Rinaldo was vain and
arrogant; Rinaldo was rash, not brave; Rinaldo's virtues were all vices.
At last, stung past endurance by his taunts and insinuations, Rinaldo gave
the lie to his traducer, and slew him in fair fight. False reports were
taken to Godfrey by Rinaldo's enemies; and the ruler determined to punish
the youth severely; but he, warned by his friends, escaped from camp and
fled to Antioch. To Godfrey, deprived thus of Rinaldo and many of his
brave Adventurers, was brought the tidings that the Egyptian expedition
was on its way, and that a ship laden with provisions had been intercepted
on its way to his camp.

The bold Argantes, weary of the restraint of the siege, sent a challenge
to the Christians, saying he would meet any Frank, high-born or low, in
single combat, the conditions being that the vanquished should serve the
victor. A thousand knights burned to accept the challenge, but Godfrey
named Tancred, who proudly buckled on his armor and called for his steed.
As he approached the field, he saw among the pagan hosts, who stood around
to view the combat, the fair face of Clorinda, and stood gazing at her,
forgetful of all else. Otho, seeing his delay, spurred on his horse, and
fought till vanquished. Then Tancred woke from his stupor, and, burning
with shame, rushed forward. The battle raged until night fell, and the
weary warriors ceased, pledging themselves to return on the morrow.

Erminia, shut up in Jerusalem, mourned over the wounds of Tancred. She
knew many healing balms, by which, were she with him, she might heal him
and make him ready for the morrow's fight; but she was forced to
administer them to his enemy instead. Unable to endure the suspense
longer, she put on her friend Clorinda's armor and fled to the Christian
camp to find her beloved. The Franks, who spied her, supposed her
Clorinda, and pursued her; but she succeeded in reaching a woodland
retreat, where she determined to remain with the kind old shepherd and his
wife who had fled from the disappointments of the court and had here
sought and found peace in their humble home. When Tancred heard from his
followers that they had driven Clorinda from the camps, he determined to
pursue and speak with her. Rising from his bed he sought the forest only
to fall into the wiles of Armida, and be lured into a castle, in whose
dungeon he lay, consumed with shame at the thought of his unexplained
absence from the morrow's combat.

When morning dawned and Tancred did not appear, the good old Count Raymond
went forth to meet Argantes. When he was about to overcome his antagonist,
an arrow shot from the pagan ranks brought on a general conflict, in which
the Christians were successful until a storm, summoned by the powers of
darkness, put an end to the battle. The next morning a knight came to the
camp of Godfrey to tell of Sweno's defeat and slaughter. He, the sole
survivor of the band, had been commissioned by some supernatural visitants
to bring Sweno's sword to Rinaldo.

While Godfrey's heart was wrung by this disaster, the camp of Italians,
led to suppose by some bloody armor found in a wood that Rinaldo had been
treacherously slain with the connivance of Godfrey, accused the chief and
stirred up the camp to revolt; but Godfrey, praying to Heaven for strength
to meet his enemies, walked through the camp firmly and unfalteringly,
unarmed and with head bare, his face still bright with the heavenly light
left there by spiritual communion, and silenced the tumult by a few
well-chosen words. His arch-accuser Argillan he sentenced to death; the
others crept back to their tents in shame.

The Soldan Solyman, driven from Nice at its capture, had joined the Turks,
and, spurred on by hate and fury, made a night attack on the Frankish
camp. The Franks, saved only by the interposition of the angel Michael,
and by the troops just returned, released from Armida's enchantment,
fought fiercely, and at dawn put Solyman to flight. By the arts of Ismeno
he was conveyed to Jerusalem by a secret way, where he cheered the
discouraged Aladine.

Before attempting to storm the city, the Christian troops, by the advice
of Peter the Hermit, walked in a long procession to Mt. Olivet, filling
the heavens with melody, and there partook of the communion administered
by the warrior priests, William and Ademar. The next morning, Godfrey, in
the light armor of a foot-soldier, appeared with his barons, prepared for
the storm. The troops were arranged carefully, the huge engines were moved
forward, and the Franks made a bold attempt against the walls, from the
top of which Clorinda aimed her arrows, wounding and slaying many men.
Godfrey himself was wounded, but was healed by divine aid, and immediately
returned to the field to rally his troops. Night fell, and the contest was
deferred until another day.

Clorinda, burning to distinguish herself, determined to fire the huge
towers of the Christians. Her eunuch tried to dissuade her because he had
been warned in a dream that she would this night meet her death. He told
her her history. Her mother was a Christian who had been compelled to put
her infant away from her. This eunuch had rescued her from death and
brought her up, failing, however, to obey an angel's command to have her
baptized a Christian.

Clorinda would not heed his caution, but went forth and fired the Frankish
machines. She and the fleeing pagans were pursued by the Christians; and
while her companions reached the city in safety, she was accidentally shut
out and met Tancred in mortal combat. She refused to tell her name until
she felt her death-wound, and then she prayed her enemy to baptize her,
that she might die a Christian. The broken-hearted Tancred fell fainting
on her corpse, and was found there the next morning by the Franks. Neither
his comrades, nor Godfrey and Peter the Hermit, were able to rouse him
from his melancholy.

Their machines destroyed, timbers were needed by the Franks to construct
new ones. Knowing this, Ismeno laid spells on the forest, so that the
warriors sent thither by Godfrey were frightened away by the sights they
saw therein. Even Tancred was put to flight when one of the demons took
the form of his beloved Clorinda. To add to the discomfort of the Franks,
excessive heat overpowered them, and they suffered tortures from lack of
water until the prayers of Godfrey moved the Ruler of the Earth with pity,
and He sent down the longed-for showers.

Delighted with the piety of Godfrey, the Great King sent him a dream by
which he might know the will of Heaven. Lifted through the whirling
spheres, his ears charmed with their music, his eyes dazzled by the
brilliancy of the stars, he saw Duke Hugo, who told him that Rinaldo must
be sought out before the conquest of Jerusalem could be accomplished. The
same Power influenced the princes in council so that by the will of all,
two knights, one of them him to whom Sweno's sword had been given, were
despatched to seek Rinaldo. Instructed by Peter the Hermit, they sought
the sea-coast, and found a wizard, who, after showing them the splendor of
his underground abode beneath the river's bed, revealed to them the way in
which they were to overcome the wiles of Armida.

A beautiful maid with dove-like eyes and radiant smile received them in
her small bark, and they were soon flying over the sea, marvelling at the
rich cities and vast fleets by which they passed. Leaving rich Cadiz and
the Pillars of Hercules, they sped out into the unknown sea, while the
maiden told them of how some day Columbus would venture into unknown seas
to find a new continent. On, on they flew, past the Happy Isles, the
Fortunate, long the song of the poet; where the olive and honey made happy
the land, and the rivers swept down from the mountains in silver
streamlets; where every bird-song was heavenly music, a place so divine
that there were placed of old the Elysian fields. To one of these islands
the lady steered, and the knights disembarked, and started on their
perilous journey up the mountain. Following the wizard's instructions,
they waved the golden rod at the monstrous serpents hissing in their
pathway, and they vanished; they steeled their hearts against the charms
of the voluptuous maids bathing in the lake, and passed without tasting
the fountain of laughter. Then the spacious palace met their eyes. Built
round a garden, its marble courts and unnumbered galleries formed a
trackless maze through which they could never have found their way without
the aid of the wizard's map. As they trod the marble floors they paused
many times to view the matchless carvings on the silver doors, which told
anew the beautiful old stories of love triumphant.

Once through the winding ways, they entered the wonderful garden which art
and nature combined to render the most beautiful spot on earth. The same
trees bore ripe fruit, buds, and blossoms; the birds sang joyfully in the
green bowers; and the faint breezes echoed their song. One bird sang a
song of love, and when the tender melody was done the other birds took it
up and sang until the forest rang with melody, and all was love, love,
love. Then the knights saw Rinaldo, lying in the grove, his head in the
lap of the enchantress. His sword was gone from his side, and in its place
hung a mirror in which he sometimes gazed at Armida's reflection. When
Armida left him alone for a few hours, the knights surprised Rinaldo, and
turned the wizard's diamond shield upon him. For the first time he saw
himself as others saw him, and, blushing with shame, announced himself
ready to return with them to rescue Jerusalem. Tearing off his ornaments,
he hastened down the mountain, but not soon enough to escape Armida.
Tears, prayers, threats she used in vain. She had captured him when he
fled from the camp, intending to slay him; but moved by his beauty, she
had spared him, and falling in love with him, had reared this palace that
they might in it revel in love's pleasures. Now, miserable, she saw him
desert her, and destroying the beautiful haunt, she drove her swift
chariot across the seas to the camp of the Egyptian king, who was
hastening towards Jerusalem. Intent on the slaughter of Rinaldo, her love
for whom had changed to bitter hate, she offered the warriors of the
Egyptian king, all of whom had fallen victims to her charms, her hand as a
reward to the slayer of Rinaldo.

When Rinaldo and his rescuers reached the abode of the wizard they found
him waiting with new arms for the young hero. The sage reproached him
gently for his dalliance, and then, seeing the blush of shame upon his
countenance, showed him the shield, which bore the illustrious deeds of
his ancestors of the house of Este. Great as were their past glories,
still greater would be those of the family which he should found, greatest
of whom would be the Duke Alphonso.

Rinaldo, having told his story to Godfrey, and confessed his wrong-doing
to Peter the Hermit, proceeded to the enchanted forest; and though as
beauteous scenes, and as voluptuous sirens displayed themselves to him as
dwelt in Armida's garden, yea, though one tree took the semblance of
Armida herself, he boldly hacked the trunk and broke the magic spell.
Joyfully the Franks set to work to fell the huge trees and construct
vaster, stronger engines than before, under the direction of a master
mechanic. At the same time, Vafrino, a cunning squire of Tancred, was
commissioned to go forth in disguise and inspect the camp of the coming
Egyptian king. Even before he departed, a carrier pigeon, driven back by a
hawk, fell into Godfrey's hands, bearing a message to Aladine from Egypt,
saying that in four or five days he would be with him in Jerusalem.

Godfrey, determined to take the city before that day should come, made the
utmost exertions to have the machines completed. In Jerusalem, also, great
preparations were made, machines built, and a fearful fire concocted by
Ismeno with which to drive the assaulters from the wall.

Shriven by the priests, the Christian army went forth to battle. Godfrey
took his stand against the northern gate; Raymond was assigned to the
steep sharp crags at the southwest walls, and Guelph and the two Roberts
were stationed on the track to Gaza to watch for the Egyptians.

The pagans fought with great fury, bringing out new instruments to oppose
the huge battering rams, raining down arrows, and throwing the suffocating
fire. But Rinaldo, to whom all this work appeared too slow, urged on his
bold Adventurers to form a tortoise, hastened to the wall, seized a
scaling ladder, and, unmoved by any missile, mounted the wall and assisted
his followers, in spite of the multitudes who surrounded him, attempting
to hurl him down. But as Godfrey advanced, Ismeno launched his terrible
fire-balls, more horrible than the flames of Mt. Etna; they affected even
the vast tower, swelling and drying the heavy skins that covered its sides
until protecting Heaven sent a breeze that drove the flames back to the
city. Ismeno, accompanied by two witches, hurried to the wall, but was
crushed by a stone that ground his and their bones to powder. Godfrey,
inspired by a vision of the slain soldiery fighting in his ranks, leaped
upon the wall and planted the red-cross flag. Raymond was also successful,
and the Christians rushed over the walls into the town, following Aladine,
who hastened to shut himself up in the citadel.

While the battle was raging, but success was assured to the Christians,
Tancred and the terrible Argantes met, and glad of an opportunity to
settle their quarrel, withdrew to a glade in the forest. Tancred, stung by
the taunts of cowardice for his former failure to keep his appointment,
fought bitterly. He had not the sheer strength of his antagonist, but his
sleight at last overcame, and Argantes fell. Weakened by pain and loss of
blood, Tancred fell senseless, and was thus found by Erminia, who had met
Vafrino the spy in the camp of the Egyptians and had fled with him. They
revived Tancred, and carried him home to be nursed by the delighted
Erminia.

Vafrino had seen Armida in the camp and had learned through Erminia not
only the princes' designs on Rinaldo, but also that they meant to assume
the signs of the red-cross knights and thus reach the neighborhood of
Godfrey and slay him. On this intelligence Godfrey changed the signs of
his men that they might recognize the Egyptians on the following day and
put them to death.

Terrible to the Franks was the sight of the Egyptian army when they opened
their eyes upon it next morning. Clouds of dust obscured all the heavens,
hills, and valleys, so great was the coming host. But Godfrey, with an
eloquence that fired each soul, told them of the helplessness of the
enemy, of how many of them were slaves, scourged to the battle, and
reminded them of the great undertaking before them, the saving of the
Sepulchre, until fired with zeal, and burning to fight, they rushed into
battle and dispersed the Egyptians. Many of the Christians fell by the
sword of the terrible Soldan, among them Gildippe and her husband, united
in death as in life. Rinaldo, hearing of their slaughter, speedily avenged
it by laying the Soldan low on the battle-field.

One after another of Armida's champions attacked Rinaldo, determined to
win the prize, but his good sword sent them to earth, and Armida was left
alone and unprotected. Rinaldo, having seen her fly away over the plain
and knowing the victory achieved, followed and found her ready to put
herself to death in a lonely glade. He snatched the sword from her hand
and speedily changed back her hate to love. She fell upon his breast, and
with the promise to become a Christian and give her life to him,
accompanied him back to the city.

During the battle, Aladine and those who were imprisoned in the citadel
overpowered Count Raymond, and rushed out to battle, only to be overcome
and slain. Prince Altamore, who, covered with blood, remained alone on the
field, yielded himself to Godfrey, and was given his life and his kingdom.

Then, from the field covered with spoil and floating with blood, the
conquering troops, clad in their bloody armor, marched in solemn cavalcade
to the Temple and paid their, vowed devotions at the sacred tomb.

SELECTION FROM THE JERUSALEM DELIVERED.

SOPHRONIA AND OLINDO.

At the instigation of the wizard Ismeno, Aladine, king of Jerusalem, stole
an image of the Virgin from the temple of the Christians and put it in his
mosque in order to render the city impregnable. When morning dawned the
image was gone, and no search could reveal any clue to the theft.

In every temple, hermitage, and hall,
A long and eager search the monarch made,
And tortures or rewards decreed to all
Who screened the guilty, or the guilt betrayed;
Nor ceased the Sorcerer to employ in aid
Of the inquiry all his arts, but still
Without success; for whether Heaven conveyed
The prize away, or power of human will,
Heaven close the secret kept, and shamed his vaunted skill.

But when the king found all expedients vain
To trace th' offender, then, beyond disguise,
Flamed forth his hatred to the Christians; then,
Fed by wild jealousies and sharp surmise,
Immoderate fury sparkled in his eyes;
Follow what may, he will revenge the deed,
And wreak his rage: "Our wrath shall not," he cries,
"Fall void, but root up all th' accursed seed;
Thus in the general doom the guilty yet shall bleed!

"So that he 'scapes not, let the guiltless die!
But wherefore thus of guiltlessness debate?
Each guilty is, nor 'mongst them all know I
One, well-affected to the faith and state;
And what if some be unparticipate
In this new crime, new punishment shall pay
For old misdeeds; why longer do ye wait,
My faithful Mussulmans? up! up! away!
Hence with the torch and sword: seize, fire, lay waste, and slay!"

Thus to the crowd he spake, the mandate flew,
And in the bosoms of the Faithful shed
Astonishment and stupor; stupor threw
On every face the paleness of the dead;
None dared, none sought to make defence; none fled,
None used entreaty, none excuse; but there
They stood, like marble monuments of dread,
Irresolute,--but Heaven conceived their prayer,
And whence they least had hope, brought hope to their despair.

Of generous thoughts and principles sublime
Amongst them in the city lived a maid,
The flower of virgins in her ripest prime,
Supremely beautiful! but that she made
Never her care, or beauty only weighed
In worth with virtue; and her worth acquired
A deeper charm from blooming in the shade;
Lovers she shunned, nor loved to be admired,
But from their praises turned, and lived a life retired.

Yet could not this coy secrecy prevent
Th' admiring gaze and warm desires of one
Tutored by Love, nor yet would Love consent
To hide such lustrous beauty from the sun;
Love! that through every change delight'st to run,
The Proteus of the heart I who now dost blind,
Now roll the Argus eyes that nought can shun!
Thou through a thousand guards unseen dost wind,
And to the chastest maids familiar access find.

Sophronia hers, Olindo was his name;
Born in one town, by one pure faith illumed;
Modest--as she was beautiful, his flame
Feared much, hoped little, and in nought presumed;
He could not, or he durst not speak, but doomed
To voiceless thought his passion; him she slighted,
Saw not, or would not see; thus he consumed
Beneath the vivid fire her beauty lighted;
Either not seen ill known, or, known, but ill requited.

And thus it was, when like an omen drear
That summoned all her kindred to the grave,
The cruel mandate reached Sophronia's ear,
Who, brave as bashful, yet discreet as brave,
Mused how her people she from death might save;
Courage inspired, but virginal alarm
Repressed the thought, till maiden shyness gave
Place to resolve, or joined to share the harm;
Boldness awoke her shame, shame made her boldness charm.

Alone amidst the crowd the maid proceeds,
Nor seeks to hide her beauty, nor display;
Downcast her eyes, close veiled in simple weeds,
With coy and graceful steps she wins her way:
So negligently neat, one scarce can say
If she her charms disdains, or would improve,--
If chance or taste disposes her array;
Neglects like hers, if artifices, prove
Arts of the friendly Heavens, of Nature, and of Love.

All, as she passed unheeding, all, admire
The noble maid; before the king she stood;
Not for his angry frown did she retire,
But his indignant aspect coolly viewed:
"To give,"--she said, "but calm thy wrathful mood,
And check the tide of slaughter in its spring,--
To give account of that thou hast pursued
So long in vain, seek I thy face, O king!
The urged offence I own, the doomed offender bring!"

The modest warmth, the unexpected light
Of high and holy beauty, for a space
O'erpowered him,--conquered of his fell despite,
He stood, and of all fierceness lost the trace.
Were his a spirit, or were hers a face
Of less severity, the sweet surprise
Had melted him to love; but stubborn grace
Subdues not stubborn pride; Love's potent ties
Are flattering fond regards, kind looks, and smiling eyes.

If 't were not Love that touched his flinty soul,
Desire it was, 't was wonder, 't was delight:
"Safe be thy race!" he said, "reveal the whole,
And not a sword shall on thy people light."
Then she: "The guilty is before thy sight,--
The pious robbery was my deed; these hands
Bore the blest Image from its cell by night;
The criminal thou seek'st before thee stands,--
Justice from none but me her penalty demands."

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