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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=531488" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Jerusalem Delivered - Book 02 - part 04</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXXI<br>Thus spake the nymph, yet spake but to the wind,<br>She could not alter his well-settled thought;<br>O miracle! O strife of wondrous kind!<br>Where love and virtue such contention wrought,<br>Where death the victor had for meed assigned;<br>Their own neglect, each other's safety sought;<br>But thus the king was more provoked to ire,<br>Their strife for bellows served to anger's fire.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXXII<br>He thinks, such thoughts self-guiltiness finds out,<br>They scorned his power, and therefore scorned the pain,<br>&quot;Nay, nay,&quot; quoth he, &quot;let be your strife and doubt,<br>You both shall win, and fit reward obtain.&quot;<br>With that the sergeants hent the young man stout,<br>And bound him likewise in a worthless chain;<br>Then back to back fast to a stake both ties,<br>Two harmless turtles dight for sacrifice.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXXIII<br>About the pile of fagots, sticks and hay,<br>The bellows raised the newly-kindled flame,<br>When thus Olindo, in a doleful lay,<br>Begun too late his bootless plaints to frame:<br>&quot;Be these the bonds? Is this the hoped-for day,<br>Should join me to this long-desired dame?<br>Is this the fire alike should burn our hearts?<br>Ah, hard reward for lovers' kind desarts!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXXIV<br>&quot;Far other flames and bonds kind lovers prove,<br>But thus our fortune casts the hapless die,<br>Death hath exchanged again his shafts with love,<br>And Cupid thus lets borrowed arrows fly.<br>O Hymen, say, what fury doth thee move<br>To lend thy lamps to light a tragedy?<br>Yet this contents me that I die for thee,<br>Thy flames, not mine, my death and torment be.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXXV<br>&quot;Yet happy were my death, mine ending blest,<br>My torments easy, full of sweet delight,<br>It this I could obtain, that breast to breast<br>Thy bosom might receive my yielded sprite;<br>And thine with it in heaven's pure clothing drest,<br>Through clearest skies might take united flight.&quot;<br>Thus he complained, whom gently she reproved,<br>And sweetly spake him thus, that so her loved:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXXVI<br>&quot;Far other plaints, dear friend, tears and laments<br>The time, the place, and our estates require;<br>Think on thy sins, which man's old foe presents<br>Before that judge that quits each soul his hire,<br>For his name suffer, for no pain torments<br>Him whose just prayers to his throne aspire:<br>Behold the heavens, thither thine eyesight bend,<br>Thy looks, sighs, tears, for intercessors send.&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXXVII<br>The Pagans loud cried out to God and man,<br>The Christians mourned in silent lamentation,<br>The tyrant's self, a thing unused, began<br>To feel his heart relent, with mere compassion,<br>But not disposed to ruth or mercy than<br>He sped him thence home to his habitation:<br>Sophronia stood not grieved nor discontented,<br>By all that saw her, but herself, lamented.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXXVIII<br>The lovers standing in this doleful wise,<br>A warrior bold unwares approached near,<br>In uncouth arms yclad and strange disguise,<br>From countries far, but new arrived there,<br>A savage tigress on her helmet lies,<br>The famous badge Clorinda used to bear;<br>That wonts in every warlike stowre to win,<br>By which bright sign well known was that fair inn.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXXIX<br>She scorned the arts these silly women use,<br>Another thought her nobler humor fed,<br>Her lofty hand would of itself refuse<br>To touch the dainty needle or nice thread,<br>She hated chambers, closets, secret news,<br>And in broad fields preserved her maidenhead:<br>Proud were her looks, yet sweet, though stern and stout,<br>Her dam a dove, thus brought an eagle out.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XL<br>While she was young, she used with tender hand<br>The foaming steed with froary bit to steer,<br>To tilt and tourney, wrestle in the sand,<br>To leave with speed Atlanta swift arear,<br>Through forests wild, and unfrequented land<br>To chase the lion, boar, or rugged bear,<br>The satyrs rough, the fauns and fairies wild,<br>She chased oft, oft took, and oft beguiled.<br>XLI<br>This lusty lady came from Persia late,<br>She with the Christians had encountered eft,<br>And in their flesh had opened many a gate,<br>By which their faithful souls their bodies left,<br>Her eye at first presented her the state<br>Of these poor souls, of hope and help bereft,<br>Greedy to know, as is the mind of man,<br>Their cause of death, swift to the fire she ran.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XLII<br>The people made her room, and on them twain<br>Her piercing eyes their fiery weapons dart,<br>Silent she saw the one, the other 'plain,<br>The weaker body lodged the nobler heart:<br>Yet him she saw lament, as if his pain<br>Were grief and sorrow for another's smart,<br>And her keep silence so, as if her eyes<br>Dumb orators were to entreat the skies.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XLIII<br>Clorinda changed to ruth her warlike mood,<br>Few silver drops her vermeil cheeks depaint;<br>Her sorrow was for her that speechless stood,<br>Her silence more prevailed than his complaint.<br>She asked an aged man, seemed grave and good,<br>&quot;Come say me, sir,&quot; quoth she, &quot;what hard constraint<br>Would murder here love's queen and beauty's king?<br>What fault or fare doth to this death them bring?&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XLIV<br>Thus she inquired, and answer short he gave,<br>But such as all the chance at large disclosed,<br>She wondered at the case, the virgin brave,<br>That both were guiltless of the fault supposed,<br>Her noble thought cast how she might them save,<br>The means on suit or battle she reposed.<br>Quick to the fire she ran, and quenched it out,<br>And thus bespake the sergeants and the rout:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XLV<br>&quot;Be there not one among you all that dare<br>In this your hateful office aught proceed,<br>Till I return from court, nor take you care<br>To reap displeasure for not making speed.&quot;<br>To do her will the men themselves prepare,<br>In their faint hearts her looks such terror breed;<br>To court she went, their pardon would she get,<br>But on the way the courteous king she met.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Torquato+Tasso">Torquato Tasso</a><div class=q>
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Thus spake the nymph, yet spake but to the wind,
She could not alter his well-settled thought;
O miracle! O strife of wondrous kind!
Where love and virtue such contention wrought,
Where death the victor had for meed assigned;
Their own neglec..."></div>
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