his amour propre, he kills the haughty Gernando, his fellow-soldier; and to escape the penalty, forsakes the camp and sets free the Crusading champions who had been enslaved by the sorceress Armida. He himself afterwards falls into the power of this sorceress. Geoffrey sends to liberate him, and has him brought back to the camp. In overcoming the incantation of the forest, and in slaying the fiercest enemies, he bears a principal part in the final triumph.

A third action is hinged on Tancred,- a historic character, one of the principal Normans born in Italy, the type of a bold and courteous warrior; who is enamored of Clorinda, a hostile female warrior, but without response from her. He has a duel with Argantes, the mightiest of the Mussulman champions, and comes off wounded. The beautiful Erminia, a saved princess of conquered and sacked Antioch, once his prisoner and now free in Jerusalem, impelled by a most passionate love goes to him to cure him. He, through her disguise believing that she is Clorinda, follows her steps, and is left a slave of Armida. Freed from Armida's snares with her other victims, by the prowess of Rinaldo, he returns to the camp. He afterwards by mistake kills Clorinda herself, who has come disguised — in armor with false bearings-to set on fire a wooden tower of the Christians. In despair he meditates suicide, but by Peter the Hermit is persuaded to resignation. In the final and successful assault upon Jerusalem, having been cured of his wounds by Erminia, though. still weak he kills Argantes, and contributes his full share to the ultimate triumph of the Crusaders.

Besides this, the "machinery" of the poem-the intervention of the supernatural—is made up on the one hand, of the plots of every kind which Satan, with the advice and aid of an assembled council of demons, prepares against the Christians,-loves, arms, storms, incantations; on the other hand, of the miraculous doings of the angels, who by Divine command oppose themselves to the Infernal king.

Here were plainly three actions, although woven into one unbroken and indivisible web: and three heroes, two of them officially subordinated to Geoffrey, but not inferior to him, perhaps even his superiors in their exploits. This multiplicity, which was pleasing to the multitude because they found in the 'Jerusalem' almost the variety of romance, did not seem rhetorically right to the learned critics, and still less to Tasso himself. First, it seemed to an unjustifiable degree to sacrifice the "unity of action." The "unity of place" as well was offended in making Rinaldo go into the island of Armida, situated on the extreme boundary of the world. Still further, so many loves, often very tenderly described,- of Christians for Armida, of Armida for Rinaldo, of Tancred for Clorinda, and of Erminia for Tancred,—were adjudged unsuited to the gravity of the heroic poem and

to the sanctity of the argument. Beyond this, the dissatisfied critics found that the poet had wandered too far from the facts of history; and that even his style was in some parts mannered, labored, and dry, and in others had an overplus of lyric ornamentation, which was unsuited to epic gravity.

These and similar censures, piled mountain-high by the severe critics, from the first and long afterwards, on this magnificent and delightful poem, never for a moment persuaded the multitude of readers: but alas, it did persuade Tasso himself; and while Italy and all Christendom was ringing with delight and applause over the poem as it was, the distressed author set himself in the last years of his life to make over the poem. He began with the very title, which had been criticized, and produced the 'Gerusalemme Conquistata in twenty-four books; four more than were contained in the 'Liberata,' which the whole world has nevertheless gone on reading and applauding, while the Conquistata' is almost forgotten. How far the world. and the centuries have been justified in their own delight and in their applause of the poet, the reader will be surely able to judge for himself from the following selections.

JF.

F. Bingham

(

FROM JERUSALEM DELIVERED'

THE CRUSADERS' FIRST SIGHT OF THE HOLY CITY

HE purple morning left her crimson bed,

THE

And donned her robe of pure vermilion hue;
Her amber locks she crowned with roses red,

In Eden's flowery gardens gathered new:
When through the camp a murmur shrill was spread;
Arm, arm! they cried; arm, arm! the trumpets blew;
Their merry noise prevents the joyful blast:

So hum small bees, before their swarms they cast.

Their captain rules their courage, guides their heat,
Their forwardness he stays with gentle rein:

And yet more easy, haply, were the feat,

To stop the current near Charybdis's main,
Or calm the blustering winds on mountains great,
Than fierce desires of warlike hearts restrain:
He rules them yet, and ranks them in their haste,
For well he knows disordered speed makes waste.

Feathered their thoughts, their feet in wings were dight;

Swiftly they marched, yet were not tired thereby, For willing minds make heaviest burdens light:

But when the gliding sun was mounted high, Jerusalem, behold, appeared in sight,

Jerusalem they view, they see, they spy; Jerusalem with merry noise they greet, With joyful shouts and acclamations sweet.

As when a troop of jolly sailors row,

Some new-found land and country to descry;
Through dangerous seas and under stars unknown,
Thrall to the faithless waves and trothless sky;
If once the wishèd shore begin to show,

They all salute it with a joyful cry,
And each to other show the land in haste,
Forgetting quite their pains and perils past.

To that delight which their first sight did breed,
That pleased so the secret of their thought,
A deep repentance did forthwith succeed,

That reverend fear and trembling with it brought.
Scantly they durst their feeble eyes dispread

Upon that town where Christ was sold and bought,

Where for our sins he, faultless, suffered pain,

There where he died, and where he lived again.

Soft words, low speech, deep sobs, sweet sighs, salt tears, Rose from their breasts, with joy and pleasure mixt; For thus fares he, the Lord aright that fears.

Fear on devotion, joy on faith is fixt;

Such noise their passions make, as when one hears
The hoarse sea-waves roar hollow rocks betwixt;

Or as the wind in hoults and shady greaves
A murmur makes among the boughs and leaves.

Their naked feet trod on the dusty way,

Following th' ensample of their zealous guide; Their scarfs, their crests, their plumes, and feathers gay, They quickly doft and willing laid aside:

Their molten hearts their wonted pride allay,

Along their watery cheeks warm tears down slide; And then such secret speech as this they used.

While to himself each one himself accused:

"Flower of goodness, root of lasting bliss,

Thou well of life, whose streams were purple blood
That flowed here, to cleanse the foul amiss

Of sinful man,- behold this brinish flood,

That from my melting heart distilled is;

Receive in gree these tears, O Lord so good:
For never wretch with sin so overgone

Had fitter time or greater cause to moan.' >>

Translation of Edward Fairfax.

EPISODE OF OLINDO AND SOPHRONIA

[An image of the Virgin Mary is stolen from one of the Christian churches, and set up in the royal mosque. The statue is stolen. The Moslem king, unable to discover the thief, threatens to massacre all his Christian subjects. Sophronia, a young Christian lady of great beauty and virtue, willing to sacrifice herself for her people, accuses herself to the king as the thief, and is ordered to be burnt alive. Her lover Olindo contradicts her, declares himself the perpetrator, and wishes to suffer in her stead. They are both bound, naked and back to back, to the same stake. The flames are kindled; but by the arrival of Clorinda they are saved, and married in the presence of the crowd of spectators on the spot.]

MONG them dwelt, her parents' joy and pleasure,

AMO

A maid whose fruit was ripe, not over-yeared;

Her beauty was her not-esteemèd treasure,

The field of love, with plow of virtue eared.

Her labor goodness, godliness her leisure;

Her house the heaven by this full moon aye cleared,— For there, from lover's eyes withdrawn, alone

With virgin beams this spotless Cinthia shone.

But what availed her resolution chaste,

Whose soberest looks were whetstones to desire?
Nor love consents that beauty's field lie waste:
Her visage set Olindo's heart on fire.

O subtle love! a thousand wiles thou hast,
By humble suit, by service, or by hire,
To win a maiden's hold; a thing soon done,

For nature framed all women to be won.

Sophronia she, Olindo hight the youth,

Both of one town, both in one faith were taught:

She fair,-he full of bashfulness and truth,

Loved much, hoped little, and desirèd naught;

He durst not speak, by suit to purchase ruth,—

She saw not, marked not, wist not what he sought; Thus loved, thus served he long, but not regarded,Unseen, unmarked, unpitied, unrewarded.

To her came message of the murderment,

Wherein her guiltless friends should hopeless serve. She that was noble, wise, as fair and gent,

Cast how she might their harmless lives preserve: Zeal was the spring whence flowed her hardiment, From maiden's shame yet was she loth to swerve; Yet had her courage ta'en so sure a hold, That boldness shamefast, shame had made her bold.

And forth she went,- a shop for merchandise,
Full of rich stuff, but none for sale exposed;
A veil obscured the sunshine of her eyes,

The rose within herself her sweetness closed.
Each ornament about her seemly lies,

By curious chance or careless art composed; For what she most neglects, most curious prove,So beauty's helped by nature, heaven, and love.

Admired of all, on went this noble maid

Until the presence of the king she gained; Nor for he swelled with ire was she afraid,

But his fierce wrath with fearless grace sustained. "I come," quoth she,-"but be thine anger stayed,

And causeless rage 'gainst faultless souls restrained,—

I come to show thee and to bring thee, both,
The wight whose fact hath made thy heart so wroth.»

Her modest boldness, and that lightning ray

Which her sweet beauty streamèd on his face,
Had strook the prince with wonder and dismay,
Changed his cheer and cleared his moody grace,
That had her eyes disposed their looks to play,
The king had snarèd been in love's strong lace:
By wayward beauty doth not fancy move;
A frown forbids, a smile engendereth love.

It was amazement, wonder, and delight,

Although not love, that moved his cruel sense. "Tell on," quoth he: "unfold the chance aright; Thy people's lives I grant for recompense."