342 [from Tasso’s Godfrey of Bulloigne Book 4]
3
The drearie trumpet blew a dreadfull blast,
And rombled through the lands and kingdomes under,
Through wastnes wide it roard, and hollowes vast,
And fild the deepe, with horror, feare and wonder,
5 Not halfe so dreadfull noise the tempests cast,
That fall from skies, with storms of haile and thunder,
Nor halfe so lowd the whistling winds doe sing,
Broke from the earthen prisons of their king.
4
The Peeres of Plutoes realme assembled beene
10 Amid the pallace of their angrie king,
In hideous formes and shapes, tofore unseene,
That feare, death, terror and amasement bring,
With ouglie pawes some trample on the greene,
Some gnaw the snakes that on their shoulders hing,
15 And some their forked tailes stretch forth on hie,
And teare the twinkling stars from trembling skie.
5
There were Cilenos foule and loathsome rout,
There Sphinges, Centaures, there were Gorgons fell,
There howling Scillaes, yawling round about,
20 There serpents hisse, there sev’n-mouth’d Hydraes yell,
Chimera there spues fire and brimstone out,
And Poliphemus blinde supporteth hell,
Besides ten thousand monsters therein dwels
Mis-shapt, unlike themselves, and like nought els.
6
25 About their Prince each tooke his wonted seat
On thrones red hot, ibuilt of burning brasse,
Pluto in middest heav’d his trident great,
Of rustie iron huge that forged was,
The rockes, on which the salt sea billowes beat,
30 And Atlas tops, the clouds in height that passe,
Compar’d to his huge person, mole-hils be,
So his rough front, his homes so lifted he.
7
The tyrant proud frown’d from his loftie cell,
And with his lookes made all his monsters tremble,
35 His eies, that full of rage and venome swell,
Two beacons seeme, that men to armes assemble,
His feltred lockes, that on his bosome fell,
On rugged mountaines briers and thornes resemble,
His yawning mouth, that fomed clotted blood,
40 Gapte like a whirlepoole wide in Stygian flood.
8
And as mount Etna vomits sulphur out,
With clifts of burning crags, and fire and smoke,
So from his mouth flew kindled coales about,
Hot sparks and smels, that man and beast would choke,
45 The gnarring porter durst not whine for dout,
Still were the Furies, while their soveraigne spoke,
And swift Cocytus staid his murmur shrill,
While thus the murdrer thundred out his will.
9
Ye powres infernall, worthier far to sit
50 Above the sunne, whence you your ofspring take,
With me that whilome, through the welkin flit,
Downe tombled headlong to this emptie lake,
Our former glorie, still remember it,
Our bold attemptes and war we once did make
55 Gainst him, that rules above the starrie sphere,
For which like traitors we lie damned here.
10
And now in stead of cleere and gladsome skie,
Of Titans brightnes, that so glorious is,
In this deepe darknes loe we helplesse lie,
60 Hopelesse againe to joy our former blis,
And more (which makes my grieves to multiplie)
That sinfull creature man, elected is,
And in our place, the heavens possesse he must,
Vile man, begot of clay, and borne of dust.
11
65 Nor this suffis’d, but that he also gave
His only sonne, his darling to be slaine,
To conquer so, hell, death, sinne and the grave,
And man condemned to restore againe,
He brake our prisons and would algates save
70 The soules that here should dwell in woe and paine,
And now in heav’n with him they live alwaies
With endlesse glorie crown’d, and lasting praise.
12
But why recount I thus our passed harmes?
Remembrance fresh makes weak’ned sorrowes strong,
75 Expulsed were we with injurious armes
From those due honours, us of right belong.
But let us leave to speake of these alarmes,
And bend our forces gainst our present wrong,
Ah see you not, how he attempted hath
80 To bring all lands, all nations to his faith?
13
Then, let us carelesse spend the day and night,
Without regard what haps, what comes or goes.
Let Asia subject be to Christians might,
A pray be Sion to her conquering foes,
85 Let her adore againe her Christ aright,
Who her before all nations whilome choes,
In brasen tables be his lore iwrit,
And let all tongues and lands acknowledge it.
14
So shall our sacred altars all be his,
90 Our holie Idols tombled in the mold,
To him the wretched man, that sinfull is,
Shall pray, and offer incense, myrrhe and gold;
Our temples shall their costly deckings mis,
With naked walles and pillars freezing cold,
95 Tribute of soules shall end, and our estate,
Or Pluto raigne in kingdoms desolate.
15
Oh, be not than the courage perisht cleene,
That whilome dwelt within your haughtie thought,
When, arm’d with shining fire and weapons keene,
100 Against the Angels of proud heav’n we fought,
I grant we fell on the Phlegrean greene,
Yet good our cause was, though our fortune nought;
For chance assisteth oft th’ignobler part,
We lost the field, yet lost we not our hart.
16
105 Goe then my strength, my hope, my spirits, goe,
These westren rebels, with your power withstand,
Plucke up these weedes, before they overgroe
The gentle garden of the Hebrewes land,
Quench out this sparke, before it kindle soe
110 That Asia burne, consumed with the brand.
Use open force, or secret guile unspied;
For craft is vertue gainst a foe defied.
17
Among the knights and worthies of their traine,
Let some like out-lawes wander uncouth waies,
115 Let some be slaine in field, let some againe
Make oracles of womens yeaes and naies,
And pine in foolish love, let some complaine
On Godfreyes rule, and mutines gainst him raise,
Turne each ones sword, against his fellowes hart,
120 Thus kill them all, or spoile the greatest part.
18
Before bis words the tyrant ended had,
The lesser devils arose with gastlie rore,
And thronged foorth about the world to gad,
Each land they filled, river, streame and shore,
125 The Goblins, Fairies, Feends and Furies mad,
Ranged in flowrie dales, and mountaines hore,
And under everie trembling leafe they sit,
Betweene the solid earth and welkin flit.
19
About the world they spread both far and wide,
130 Filling the thoughts of each ungodly hart,
With secret mischiefe, anger, hate and pride,
Wounding lost soules with sinnes impoyson’d dart.
But say (my muse) recount whence first they tride
To hurt the Christian Lords, and from what part,
135 Thou know’st of things perform’d so long agone,
This later age heares little troath or none.