While from her eyes a briny torrent ran,
Still shrinking from his glance she thus began―
'Cruel at parting or returning, say,
What adverse fortune hither guides thy way?
"Tis strange that thou, the author of my death,
Shouldst now hold back by force my parting breath.
Seek'st thou to save my life? what untried woe,
What shame, what torture, must Armida know?
Thy deep and treacherous art I well descry;
But she is weak indeed who dares not die.
Tarnish'd forsooth would be thy great renown,
Unless thy boasted victory to crown,
Were shown, in servile bonds, a captive maid,
By force made captive now, as once betray'd.
Time was I sued for life, I sued for peace;
Now welcome death shall bid my sufferings cease.
But this from thee I deign not to demand;
All gifts were hateful at thy hated hand.
Yes-with no aid of thine I hope to flee,
Self-rescued, from thy heartless cruelty:
And if the prison where thou bidd'st me lie
The friendly noose, the precipice deny,
Nor to a spirit bent on death afford
The bowl envenom'd nor the deadly sword,
Yet to my choice more certain ways are given,
Beyond thy power to thwart: I thank thee, Heaven!
Cease, cease; no more thy false endearments show!
Ah! how he mocks my hopes, and tampers with
my woe !'
'Twas thus she mourn'd; and with the copious
dew
Which from her eyes discordant passions drew, His sympathizing tears the warrior join'd, Tears where with pity modest love combined,
And softly thus replied: Armida, cease;
Lull'd be the tempest of thy soul to peace.
On thee no insult, scorn, dishonour, wait;
My aid shall give thee back thy kingly state;
In me a friend, a pledged protector know,
Thy champion and thy servant, not thy foe.
If to believe my tongue thy heart denies,
Look up, and read Truth's language in mine eyes.
That crown which glitter'd on thy father's brow,
I swear, is thine: And oh! would Heaven allow
Its saving grace, and with some kindly ray
Purge from thine eye the Pagan mist away!
Then in all Asia's realms no female name
Should match thy princely splendour or thy fame.'
So spoke the youth; and with entreaties kind,
Tears such as heroes weep, and sighs, he join'd.
As yields the flaky snow, and melts away,
Warm'd by the tepid breeze, or solar ray,
So ceased Armida's wrath, at once repress'd,
And softer passions woke within her breast.
'Behold thy slave; thy will my law shall be,'
She said; I rest my destinies on thee.'
FROM THE ITALIAN OF TASSO.
DAMES, that in the dazzling glow
Of your youth and beauty go;
Ye who, in your strength, defy
Love with all his archery;
Ye who stand unconquer'd still,
Conquering others as ye will—
Ye shall bend at last before
The iron sceptre of my power.
Mine shall be your glories then,
Mine the triumphs of your train,
Mine the trophy and the crown,
Mine the hearts which ye have won;
And your beauty's waning ray
Shall wax feeble and decay;
And your souls too proudly soaring, To see the prostrate world adoring. Time, imperial Time, am I;
Time, your lord and enemy,
Time, whose passing wing can blight,
With the shadow of its flight,
More than Love in all his pride,
With his thousands by his side.
While I speak the moments fly,
And my spirit silently
Creeps into your sparkling eyes,
And amidst your tresses lies—
Here the wreathed knots untwining,
There bedimming beauty's shining,
Blunting all the piercing darts
Which the amorous eye imparts,
And wearing loveliness away
To crumble with its kindred clay.
On I fly; I speed away,
On for ever and for aye-
But, alas! ye take no heed
To the swiftness of my speed,
Bearing like a mighty river,
In its downward course for ever,
All your gay and glittering throng,
Honours, titles, names along,
Mortal hopes and mortal pride,
With the stillness of its tide.
Soon shall come that fatal hour
When, beneath my arm of power,
Lowly shall ye bend the knee.
Soon shall Love the palace flee,
Where he sits enthroned on high
In the lustre of your eye;
And their victor standard there
Age and chill Reserve shall rear.
Soon, like captives, shall ye learn
Ways less wild and laws more stern;
Gone shall be your smiling glances,
Hush'd your carols and your dances;
And your golden robes of pride
All too soon be laid aside,
For the vesture gray and sere,
Which my humbled captives wear.
And I now proclaim your fate,
That reflecting ere too late,
How when youthful years are gone,
Hoary ills come hasting on,
Ye may stoop your pride of soul,
Holding earth in strong control,
Deeming that the world contains
None deserving of your chains.
Bend ye then to Reason's sway,
Go where Pity points the way;
While with wing unflagging I
Keep my course eternally.
Days and nights, and years, and ye,
My swift-winged family,
Whom the All-creating Hand
Framed ere earth itself was plann'd,
Up, and still untiring hold
Your triumphant course of old;
And still your rapid cars be driven
O'er the boundless paths of heaven.
ODE TO THE FOUNTAIN OF VALCHIUSA.
FROM THE ITALIAN OF PETRARCH.
YE clear and sparkling streams!
(Warm'd by the sunny beams)
Through whose transparent crystal Laura play'd;
Ye boughs, that deck the grove,
Where Spring her chaplets wove, While Laura lay beneath the quivering shade;
Sweet herbs! and blushing flowers!
That crown yon vernal bowers,
For ever fatal, yet for ever dear;
And ye, that heard my sighs
When first she charm'd my eyes,
Soft-breathing gales! my dying accents hear.
If Heaven has fix'd my doom,
That Love must quite consume
My bursting heart, and close my eyes in death;.
Ah! grant this slight request-
That here my urn may rest,
When to its mansion flies my vital breath.
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