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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=531496" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Jerusalem Delivered - Book 03 - part 05</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">LXI<br>&quot;Presages, ah too true:&quot; with that a space<br>He sighed for grief, then said, &quot;Fain would I know<br>The man in red, with such a knightly grace,<br>A worthy lord he seemeth by his show,<br>How like to Godfrey looks he in the face,<br>How like in person! but some-deal more low.&quot;<br>&quot;Baldwin,&quot; quoth she, &quot;that noble baron hight,<br>By birth his brother, and his match in might.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">LXII<br>&quot;Next look on him that seems for counsel fit,<br>Whose silver locks betray his store of days,<br>Raymond he hight, a man of wondrous wit,<br>Of Toulouse lord, his wisdom is his praise;<br>What he forethinks doth, as he looks for, hit,<br>His stratagems have good success always:<br>With gilded helm beyond him rides the mild<br>And good Prince William, England's king's dear child.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">LXIII<br>&quot;With him is Guelpho, as his noble mate,<br>In birth, in acts, in arms alike the rest,<br>I know him well, since I beheld him late,<br>By his broad shoulders and his squared breast:<br>But my proud foe that quite hath ruinate<br>My high estate, and Antioch opprest,<br>I see not, Boemond, that to death did bring<br>Mine aged lord, my father, and my king.&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">LXIV<br>Thus talked they; meanwhile Godfredo went<br>Down to the troops that in the valley stayed,<br>And for in vain he thought the labor spent,<br>To assail those parts that to the mountains laid,<br>Against the northern gate his force he bent,<br>Gainst it he camped, gainst it his engines played;<br>All felt the fury of his angry power,<br>That from those gates lies to the corner tower.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">LXV<br>The town's third part was this, or little less,<br>Fore which the duke his glorious ensigns spread,<br>For so great compass had that forteress,<br>That round it could not be environed<br>With narrow siege -- nor Babel's king I guess<br>That whilom took it, such an army led --<br>But all the ways he kept, by which his foe<br>Might to or from the city come or go.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">LXVI<br>His care was next to cast the trenches deep,<br>So to preserve his resting camp by night,<br>Lest from the city while his soldiers sleep<br>They might assail them with untimely flight.<br>This done he went where lords and princes weep<br>With dire complaints about the murdered knight,<br>Where Dudon dead lay slaughtered on the ground.<br>And all the soldiers sat lamenting round.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">LXVII<br>His wailing friends adorned the mournful bier<br>With woful pomp, whereon his corpse they laid,<br>And when they saw the Bulloigne prince draw near,<br>All felt new grief, and each new sorrow made;<br>But he, withouten show or change of cheer,<br>His springing tears within their fountains stayed,<br>His rueful looks upon the corpse he cast<br>Awhile, and thus bespake the same at last;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">LXVIII<br>&quot;We need not mourn for thee, here laid to rest,<br>Earth is thy bed, and not the grave the skies<br>Are for thy soul the cradle and the nest,<br>There live, for here thy glory never dies:<br>For like a Christian knight and champion blest<br>Thou didst both live and die: now feed thine eyes<br>With thy Redeemer's sight, where crowned with bliss<br>Thy faith, zeal, merit, well-deserving is.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">LXIX<br>&quot;Our loss, not thine, provokes these plaints and tears:<br>For when we lost thee, then our ship her mast,<br>Our chariot lost her wheels, their points our spears,<br>The bird of conquest her chief feather cast:<br>But though thy death far from our army hears<br>Her chiefest earthly aid, in heaven yet placed<br>Thou wilt procure its help Divine, so reaps<br>He that sows godly sorrow, joy by heaps.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">LXX<br>&quot;For if our God the Lord Armipotent<br>Those armed angels in our aid down send<br>That were at Dothan to his prophet sent,<br>Thou wilt come down with them, and well defend<br>Our host, and with thy sacred weapons bent<br>Gainst Sion's fort, these gates and bulwarks rend,<br>That so by hand may win this hold, and we<br>May in these temples praise our Christ for thee.&quot;<br>LXXI<br>Thus he complained; but now the sable shade<br>Ycleped night, had thick enveloped<br>The sun in veil of double darkness made;<br>Sleep, eased care; rest, brought complaint to bed:<br>All night the wary duke devising laid<br>How that high wall should best be battered,<br>How his strong engines he might aptly frame,<br>And whence get timber fit to build the same.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">LXXII<br>Up with the lark the sorrowful duke arose,<br>A mourner chief at Dudon's burial,<br>Of cypress sad a pile his friends compose<br>Under a hill o'ergrown with cedars tall,<br>Beside the hearse a fruitful palm-tree grows,<br>Ennobled since by this great funeral,<br>Where Dudon's corpse they softly laid in ground,<br>The priest sung hymns, the soldiers wept around.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">LXXIII<br>Among the boughs, they here and there bestow<br>Ensigns and arms, as witness of his praise,<br>Which he from Pagan lords, that did them owe,<br>Had won in prosperous fights and happy frays:<br>His shield they fixed on the hole below,<br>And there this distich under-writ, which says,<br>&quot;This palm with stretched arms, doth overspread<br>The champion Dudon's glorious carcase dead.&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">LXXIV<br>This work performed with advisement good,<br>Godfrey his carpenters, and men of skill<br>In all the camp, sent to an aged wood,<br>With convoy meet to guard them safe from ill.<br>Within a valley deep this forest stood,<br>To Christian eyes unseen, unknown, until<br>A Syrian told the duke, who thither sent<br>Those chosen workmen that for timber went.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">LXXV<br>And now the axe raged in the forest wild,<br>The echo sighed in the groves unseen,<br>The weeping nymphs fled from their bowers exiled,<br>Down fell the shady tops of shaking treen,<br>Down came the sacred palms, the ashes wild,<br>The funeral cypress, holly ever green,<br>The weeping fir, thick beech, and sailing pine,<br>The married elm fell with his fruitful vine.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">LXXVI<br>The shooter grew, the broad-leaved sycamore,<br>The barren plantain, and the walnut sound,<br>The myrrh, that her foul sin doth still deplore,<br>The alder owner of all waterish ground,<br>Sweet juniper, whose shadow hurteth sore,<br>Proud cedar, oak, the king of forests crowned;<br>Thus fell the trees, with noise the deserts roar;<br>The beasts, their caves, the birds, their nests forlore.</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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&quot;Presages, ah too true:&quot; with that a space
He sighed for grief, then said, &quot;Fain would I know
The man in red, with such a knightly grace,
A worthy lord he seemeth by his show,
How like to Godfrey looks he in the face,
How like i..."></div>
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