Classic Poem

BOOK III.

The eastern breeze, fresh harbinger of dawn,
Sprung from the surge, and whisper'd o'er the lawn:
Aurora waked, suffused with early dew,
And round her form the purpling vesture threw;
Her orient locks increasing glory shed,
And Eden's rose adorn'd her radiant head.
The soldiers arm; ten thousand shouts arise,
Ring through the camp, and burst upon the skies;
Triumphant clarions answer to the sound,
And boundless joy and clamour pours around.

Wild were the transports of the madding host,
Wild as the waves on the Trinacrian coast,
Or winds that o'er the ridgy mountain sweep,
That rend the clouds, and rush upon the deep:
Yet to their Chief the ranging troops conform,
He rules the rapture, and directs the storm;
In ordered file arrays the impetuous train;
Rapid they march, but rapid with the rein.

Wing'd were their hearts, with previous transport fleet,
And wing'd, like feather'd Mercury, their feet;
Nor travel tires, nor obstacles impede,
So warm their ardour and so swift their speed.
But when careering up the etherial road,
The disk of heaven with rising fervour glow'd,
Jerusalem the ravish'd squadrons spy,
" Jerusalem! " triumphing thousands cry;
Jerusalem, their acclamations sweet,
Expanding arms, and reaching raptures, greet.

So when beneath the keen Septentrion pole,
Or where the tides of Austrial oceans roll,
Adventurous mariners, a desperate band,
Roam in the search of yet untrodden land,
Where skies unknown the dreary prospect bound,
With gulphs that gape, and storms that rage around;
If, haply, now some azure hill they spy,
How is the voice responsive to the eye!
Their cheeks with mutual gratulation glow,
And shouts in scorn dismiss all former woe.

To the first hurry of that wild delight
When Salem rose transporting to their sight,
Contrition soon with reverent check succeeds;
With dulcet anguish every bosom bleeds:
Their humble eyes all trembling they with-hold
From walls too dear, too aweful to behold,
Where Christ his seat of mortal passion chose,
Expiring suffer'd, and renew'd arose:
Griefs, joys, unknown, their mingling soul possest,
And thrill'd the nerve in every martial breast.
Soft is their step along the sacred ground,
And hoarse and deep the murmuring accents sound —
Hoarse as the rustling of autumnal breeze;
Deep as the break of rough asswaging seas,
Where denser woods the shattering blast oppose,
Or craggy shores the surging spume enclose.

The warriors, by their Chief's example led,
With naked feet the sultry causeway tread;
Of boastful trim their arms they all divest,
And all unplumed is every bending crest;
Timid their voice, and sweet their whispering woe,
Short breathe their sighs, and fast their eyes o'erflow,
While thus the penitent, the dear distress,
Low faultering tongues and speaking hearts express:

" O Lamb! who here for all the living died,
" Love's purple fountain issuing from thy side,
" Whose currents through the Maze of Mercy ran,
" To wash the ways, the sinful ways of man;
" Receive, receive the contrite tears we shed,
" Due tribute where our Suffering Saviour bled;
" Nor common tears should thy memorial keep,
" But pour'd to Thee our bleeding hearts should weep! "

Mean-while, the watch, who, from his towery stand,
In spacious prospect held the neighbouring land,
To right, to left, slow gathering on the skies,
Perceived wide wreaths of curling dust arise.

As fraught with coming storm when clouds ascend
And sable wing'd from north to east extend,
The nimble lightnings pour upon the sight,
And the dark vapour labours with the light;
So, thro' the eclipse, shields, helms, and corslets gleam,
Thick ported spears project a quivering beam,
With man and steed the wide-womb'd cloud is fill'd,
And glittering arms the sleinted region gild.

The hasty sentinel the town alarms —
" To arms, ye citizens, " he cries, " to arms!
" Heavens! what a horrid cloud involves the sky!
" What ranks of steely war, what hosts I spy!
" Up, up, the foe's at hand, your walls ascend;
" Your law, your lives, your native rights defend! "

The female's feeble sex, and silver'd sage,
Too soft by nature, or unnerved by age,
With trembling infants to the mosques repair,
And tire their Prophet with a length of prayer.
But those of limb assured, and courage bold,
Seiz'd their keen weapons with a hasty hold:
Some run to line the portals, some the wall;
The King informs, directs, and governs all.
Then to a tower that brow'd the northern coast,
And front to front o'erlook'd the approaching host,
His city here, and here his foe in view,
The Monarch, to inspect the whole, withdrew.

Erminia, to his royal house allied,
Erminia, gentle charmer! graced his side,
Whom late (her kingdom seiz'd, and slain her sire)
The victor's chain permitted to retire.

Mean-time Clorinda issuing at their head,
The force of many a gallant warrior led;
While, with his squadron couch'd, Argantes lay,
Prepared to fally, and sustain the day.
Clorinda's daring voice each ear inspired;
Each eye, her warlike presence fill'd, and fired:
" This day, " she cried, " let grateful Asia bless,
" That to our arms assigned the first success. "
She said — when strait appear'd a Christian band,
Whose search with early forage scour'd the land,
And now returning with the lowing prey,
To the main host they held their hasty way.
The Virgin, by intemperate valour push'd,
Full on the troop, but first on Guardo, rush'd,
Their mighty leader, famed for strength in fight,
But much too weak to match her matchless might:
Him from his seat, in either army's view,
O'erturn'd behind his steed Clorinda threw;
Glad omen hence the Pagan hosts portend,
And shouts, by shouts upborn, to heaven ascend:
But she, where join'd the thickest squadrons, prest,
Cleft the bright helm and tore the plaited breast;
Her men fast followed on the road she made,
And fought secure beneath her conquering shade.

Repeal'd with speed, the Christians quit the spoil,
And step by step their shatter'd powers recoil;
Till the kind summit of a hill they gain'd,
And rallying thence the stronger foe sustain'd:
When lo! impetuous as loosed whirlwinds rise,
Or the red bolt that shoots athwart the skies,
His arms and eager eyes ejecting flame,
Far wing'd before his squadron Tancred came.

As in a tempest stands some stable mast,
Braced to the board yet labouring in the blast;
So great, so firm, the spear which Tancred takes,
Sits in his grasp, and in his anger shakes.

The King beheld him dreadful in his charms,
Blooming in strength, and eminent in arms.
His presence fill'd the careful Monarch's breast,
Who thus Erminia, trembling maid, addrest:
" Well should thy eye, through long acquaintance, know
" The hated shape of each distinguish'd foe;
" Say then, what's he, whose hot and warlike form
" Before him sends the terror of a storm? "

He said; nor answer save the sigh received,
That in the whiteness of her bosom heaved,
That half supprest in its sweet prison lay,
And through her lips half wing'd its odorous way;
While round her eyes the crimson circlets glow'd,
And bright, within, the liquid anguish flow'd.

At length o'er Love she threw Aversion's cloke,
And thus, with feign'd yet real passion, spoke:
" Ah me! too well, too well his form I know
" Whose steed so proudly bears my deadliest foe;
" Him from my eyes not mingling hosts can hide,
" Him from my thoughts nor time nor place divide.
" Great Prophet! in what heaps from Antioch's wall,
" Beneath that arm I saw my people fall!
" The wound he gives no mortal may endure,
" No armour ward, and ah! — no med'cine cure.
" Tancred his name, — O! cruel, — may he live,
" And 'scape the death he knows too well to give,
" Till captive once, and to my rage assigned,
" He feels how strait a woman's chains can bind:
" A thousand deaths my vengeful thoughts prepare,
" And one, which Heaven avert! would only spare. "
She said; involuntary sighs expire,
And just, though great, the Monarch deem'd her ire;
But ah! how sweet the vengeance she designed!
How soft the fetters! and the rage how kind!

Mean time Clorinda eyed the warrior's speed,
And full to thwart the tempest urg'd her steed.
Couch'd at the head each aim'd a deadly stroke;
Her weapon, shiver'd to the gauntlet, broke:
But the rude welcome of the hero's spear,
Nor silken thongs nor golden buckles bear;
From her fair front the plumed helm he cast,
Her hair dishevelling revell'd in the blast;
Gem'd in the curling radiance shone her face,
The fiercest ardor and the sweetest grace.

Forth from her glance keen flash'd the living fire;
Ah! what her smiles — since lovely was her ire?
Why, Tancred! wherefore stops thy late career?
Here's but one foe, and can the mighty fear?
Or can a face like spelful magic charm,
Freeze the bold nerve, and chain the lifted arm?
Yes, Tancred's eye bears witness to his heart,
And owns a charm beyond the mystic art;
Still on that heart, indelibly imprest,
Still lived that form which now his eyes confest:
The shade, ill sheltering, to his soul returns,
And gazing now, as at the fount he burns.

Her shield she rais'd, and on the warrior flew;
Fierce she advanced, and gentle he withdrew:
On other foes he would his force have tried;
But " Here! turn here! " the threatful Virgin cried.
Ah, barbarous Maid! one death would not suffice;
Thy sword would trace the progress of thy eyes.

Furious she strikes, while faintly he defends,
And only to her killing face attends:
" Ah, " thought the Chief, " sweet combatant forbear!
" 'Tis not thy sword that Tancred knows to fear;
" Far deeper than the wounds thy arms impart,
" Thou'st found the way to reach thy soldier's heart.
" Strong though thy arm, the strongest arm may fail;
" But fate is in thy eyes, and must prevail.

Yet, e're he died, determined yet to tell,
Why thus the unresisting victim fell;
Half timorous, half embolden'd by despair,
With troubled accent he addrest the Fair:
" If the steel'd ranks of this embattel'd field,
" No apter object of thy prowess yield;
" If me alone thy vengeance would pursue,
" Thy valour combat, and thy arms subdue;
" Hence from the mingling hosts with me retire,
" And prove whose arm can best express our ire. "
The Maid assented, though unhelm'd her head,
And rode intrepid where the challenge led.
And now she aim'd, and now discharg'd a stroke,
When, scarce preventing, thus the warrior spoke:
" Hold! lovely heroine, hold! and let thy rage
" First hear the terms that won me to engage. "

She staid; his faultering tongue despair made bold,
And gave the love long latent to unfold:
" Ah my fair foe, " the impassion'd Tancred cried,
" Since peace is in thy endless wrath denied,
" The terms of war to speedy conquest lead,
" Give you to strike and me alone to bleed;
" Too blest, if so I may thy rage appease,
" And learn, so hap'ly, learn in death to please.
" Long since, the joys of irksome life are fled,
" Nor mine the heart you pierce, or blood you shed:
" Mistaken Maid! in every part you reign,
" And pour the vital flood through every vein.
" Of me, more nearly than thyself, possest,
" Thine's all the interest in thy Tancred's breast!
" See to thy sword his bosom I impart;
" Too well thou know'st thy passage to the heart —
" Strike, strike! it leaps to bleed at thy command,
" And welcomes death endear'd beneath thy hand. "

Yet, Tancred! further had thy lips essay'd,
And haply touch'd the much admiring Maid;
But here, by luckless interruption, led,
Before their foes some routed Paynims fled.
A Gallic soldier, as he past the Fair,
Mark'd the bright flow of her redundant hair;
His coward hand the base advantage seiz'd,
And high in air the cruel steel he rais'd;
But Tancred on his weapon caught the stroke,
And the first force of its encounter broke;
Yet lightly edg'd the glancing sabre bit,
Where the fair head and pillar'd neck were knit.

As when, prepared some regal brow to grace,
Or raise the lustre of some fair one's face,
An artist bids the golden circlets shine,
And calls the ruby from the blushing mine;
So the bright drops of bleeding crimson shew'd,
And gem'd amid her mingling tresses glow'd.

Then, then, no limit Tancred's fury knew,
But launch'd in vengeance on the russian flew;
As swiftly loosed to flight he urg'd his steed,
For instant fear gave feathers to his speed.
Suspensed a while, and much at both amazed,
On the strange chase the thoughtful Virgin gazed;
But turn'd, she saw her shatter'd squadrons yield,
And changed the fortune of the flying field:
With shame, grief, rage, all kindling at the sight,
She rush'd to turn her routed bands from flight;
Now, singly bold, against a host made head,
And now, o'erpower'd by pressing numbers, fled;
Yet mutual flight to her pursuers taught,
For still she flew, and as she fled she fought.

As on the wilds of Plessa's bordering wood,
Or where broad Volga rolls a deepening flood,
The savage Ure, by circling mastiffs prest,
Shakes the dread dewlap of his bellowing chest;
Outnumber'd, now prepares his flanks for flight,
Now wheeling lifts his horny front in fight;
Clorinda so, half chasing, and half chased,
Repelling, and repell'd, now fled, now faced;
When flying fear'd, and fatal tho' pursued,
She rather seem'd subduing than subdued.

The Pagans, push'd before the Christian powers,
Now reach'd the bases of their sheltering towers;
Whence rallied, for the field again they burn,
And with a shout upon their hunters turn.

Mean time Argantes with his troop impends,
And plumed in horror from the mount descends,
Well might the stoutest tremble at the sight,
For fearful rush'd the giant famed in fight:
Pierc'd by his sword, or by his lance o'erthrown,
The prostrate ranks beneath his fury groan;
Deform'd, the battle bleeds at every vein,
And man and steed lie tumbled on the plain.
With equal death Clorinda heap'd the field,
And made the pride of manly prowess yield.
Ardelio, whose brave spirit, warm though sage,
Felt a fresh spring in his autumnal age,
With rash essay adventuring to repel,
A victim to the fond presumption fell.
Two sons he had who felt their father's fire,
Two valiant sons to guard a valiant sire;
But wounded lay the brave Alcander's might,
And scarce was Poliphernes saved by flight.

But Tancred, who untimely o'er the plain
Pursued the russian, but pursued in vain,
Now turning saw the unequal combat waged,
And his brave troop by circling hosts engaged:
With double grief his error pierc'd his sight,
But double valour would restore the fight;
He ran, he shot, confirm'd his fainting bands,
Recall'd their hearts, and fortified their hands.

Nor he alone; for now, by Dudon led,
The Adventurous Troop their dreaded ensigns spread.
Strength of their strength, and in himself a host,
Their flower, their nerve, their beauty, and their boast,
Whom by his mien and arms Erminia knew,
Before the foremost young Rinaldo flew.
" Behold, " she cried, " behold Rinaldo there,
" Than man more valiant, more than woman fair!
" Whose fame is full e're promise could presage,
" And shames in infancy the toils of age.
" His arm more forceful than an engine falls,
" And threats more ruin to these tottering walls.
" Had Europe sent six champions to the field,
" Six boys like this could ample Europe yield,
" The world were conquer'd to the southern pole;
" Beneath their yoke should India's Ganges roll,
" In chains all Niger's tawny kings should tread,
" And Nile in vain would hide his sacred head.

" But turn where Dudon thy attention claims,
" Who there in gold and mingling verdure flames!
" He rules yon band whose actions task belief,
" Where every soldier is himself a chief;
" Yet justly his experienced step precedes,
" And hundreds that were born to empire leads.

" Lo there (unprais'd who in his prowess prides)
" The brother of imperial Norway rides,
" Gernando, whose huge stature loads the plain!
" What boots to say he's valiant, since he's vain? "

" But here, O king, in radiant silver drest,
" Fair as the faith that whitens in their breast,
" Behold, ah sweet associates! side by side,
" Two friends espoused, the lover and the bride;
" Gildippe, Edward, paradised in bliss,
" Her Edward that, and his Gildippe this!
" No force can foil them, and no fate can part,
" Famed in the fight, and wedded in the heart. "

While thus she gave due honour to the foe,
Wild was the riot in the vale below:
For now in Tancred and Rinaldo's ire,
The slaughter rages and the ranks expire;
Through the firm depth of hemming foes they broke,
And some arm'd Paynim died on every stroke;
Not even Argantes could the shock sustain,
But, fallen beneath Rinaldo, spread the plain.
And now, O mighty Chief, in arms surpast,
This thy first foil had haply proved thy last,
But chance deprived the victor of his prey,
Who prest beneath his prostrate courser lay.

Mean-time pale fear deform'd the face of fight,
And, mingling, wing'd the Pagan feet for flight;
All, save Argantes and the martial Maid,
Who still to stem the conquering army staid;
The bank and bulwark of their host they rose,
And each stood equal to a thousand foes.
Nor so restrain'd, the impetuous Dudon flew,
Still urged the chace, and still the hindmost slew:
Swift, as the victor by Tigranes past,
Lopp'd from the trunk the headed helm he cast:
What, Corban, what, Algazar, could avail,
Your casque well temper'd, and your circling mail?
For his keen sword cleft Corban to the chest,
And through Algazar's back transfix'd the breast:
Beneath his steel Mahammed prest the plain,
Almanzer's bulk was number'd with the stain:
Before the Chief great Amurath expired,
And even Argantes slow, and stern, retired.
With bridled wrath the indignant warrior burn'd,
He labour'd, raged, withdrew, stopp'd, chafed and turn'd;
Till now the wish'd advantage he essay'd,
And in brave Dudon's bosom sheathed the blade;
Prone o'er the field his sullied armour rung,
And o'er his eyes the eternal slumber hung.

Thrice, to the cheer of heaven's all-dulcet light,
He lift the pain'd and sickly lids of sight;
And thrice, vain toil, he struggled to arise,
And thrice he fell, and closed his umber'd eyes:
From the cold limbs the vital heat retired,
And in a parting sigh his soul expired.

Back stepp'd the stern Circassian from the dead,
And shook the reeking steel, and scornful said:
" Go, warriors, let the generous Godfrey know,
" What quick effusions from his bounty flow!
" When to our arm this weapon he assigned,
" Wife was the trust, as sure the gift was kind;
" Nor can he learn, without a secret pride,
" To what rare use his favours are applied:
" Freely he gave, nor I his bounty spare,
" Which here return'd his foremost champions share:
" Yet, tell him, yet I languish for that day,
" When hand to hand I shall in person pay.

He spoke, when hundreds on the boaster prest,
And launch'd a mingling tempest at his breast;
But prudence timely prompted to evade,
And the tall towers held forth their friendly shade.

Now, shower'd tempestuous from the embattel'd wall,
Stones, darts, and flints, and engined quarries fall;
Wing'd from the nerve of many a bending bow,
Death points a cloud and rains the storm below;
The Christian powers receding seek the plain,
And their wide gates the cover'd Pagans gain.
When disencumber'd now Rinaldo rose,
To vengeance loosed he pour'd upon his foes;
For Dudon's fate had reach'd the warrior's ear,
And gave a fury which e'en friends might fear.
" On, on! " he cried, " why, wherefore stop? O shame!
" Your arms, revenge, revenge and Dudon claim.
" In vain their ramparts veil yon trembling rout,
" Walls rise in vain to keep the valiant out;
" Though fenced with adamant, or towers of steel,
" Argantes should my entering vengeance feel. "
He said, and forward on the ramparts sprung;
A storm of darts around his temples sung:
Yet he gave all his dauntless front to view;
Even danger awed before his eye withdrew;
The towers appear'd to totter at the sight,
And quailing thousands trembled from their height.

But Sigiere now by royal Godfrey sent,
(Sage herald) bade the rage of war relent:
" Retire, retire, nor vainly hope, " he cried,
" That one day's arm shall Salem's fate decide:
" Steep are her towers and boldly mann'd her walls;
" And dire must be the shock by which she falls. "
They staid reluctant — As the fiery steed
Rein'd in his pride and lorded in his speed,
So fared Rinaldo's fury, scarce represt;
And still the battle struggled in his breast.

Mean-time, with dust deform'd and stain'd with gore,
Brave Dudon from the fated field they bore;
The soldiers press to touch his great remains,
And round his corse the copious sorrow rains.
But Bulloign, from a summit's neighbouring height,
Survey'd fair Solyma's imperial site;
Her powers, her force, and her defects he scann'd,
And the deep schemes of future conquest plann'd.

High eminent amid the circling lands,
Fair Solyma in ancient glory stands:
Rear'd on two hills her regal spires arise;
Between, a vale in rich expansion lies:
From three proud sides she overlooks her foe,
And smiles, impervious, on the war below;
But, weak by nature on the northern part,
She stoops to arm her in the strength of art.

The frugal trough and cistern's vase retain
Her watery stores of heaven descending rain;
Around her walls no lively verdures grow;
Few founts to slake the sultry region flow;
No grove extends its hospitable shade
To the tired pilgrim or the feverish glade,
Save where, two leagues divided from the town,
A baleful forest rears its umbrage brown,
Whose silent shades in antique horrors rise,
Brood o'er the soil, and intercept the skies.

Clear to the dawning of the eastern beam,
The hallow'd Jordan pours a plenteous stream;
A sanded billow bounds the western side,
And rolls alternate on the midland tide;
Samaria stretch'd upon the north expands,
Where Bethel in opprobrious prospect stands;
But Bethlem, Israel's gem and Judah's boast,
Rears to the south, and consecrates the coast.

While Bulloign thus surveys the hostile ground,
And sends his eye in large experience round,
Metes the proud height of Sion's tower'd wall,
Marks her defects and meditates her fall;
Erminia intermitted silence breaks,
And thus observant of the Hero speaks.

" Behold, O King, in regal purple drest,
" Strength in his arm, and wisdom in his breast,
" Behold where Godfrey takes his aweful stand,
" All form'd for fame, to act as to command!
" In him the hero and the sage unite,
" The clue of conduct, and the force of fight:
" Raimond alone, of yon unumber'd hosts,
" A rival in the nightly council boasts;
" Alike young Tancred's and Rinaldo's charms,
" Their flame of courage, and their force of arms!

" I know, " the Monarch with a sigh replied,
" I know him well, and saw his prowess tried.
" When I the seals of Egypt's sultan bore,
" And trod a friend upon the Gallic shore,
" A stripling in the lists, he struck my eyes,
" And matchless bore from every arm the prize;
" Then, e're his spring of bearded down began,
" In every excellence a more than man:
" Too sure presages of impending woe
" To such, whom fate should mark for Bulloign's foe!

But say, what's he, whose scarf with Tyrian pride,
" Flows o'er his arms and glows at Godfrey's side?
" Though Godfrey treads superior to the sight,
" In mien and majesty they both unite.
" I see, 'tis Baldwin, " cried the princely Dame,
" His brother, less in features, than in fame.

" But mark, intently turn'd how Godfrey hears,
" While Raimond speaks the judgment of his years,
" Whose hostile hairs bring terrors to my sight,
" Grown sage in war, and in experience white;
" Beyond ten thousand hands that head alarms,
" The ward and leading wisdom of their arms.

" There William, England's younger hope, behold,
" His figured buckler, and his casque of gold!
" Guelfo the next, whose thirst of glory springs
" From a long race of heroes and of kings;
" I know him well, amid a host exprest,
" By his square shoulders and his ample chest.
" But ah! in vain I send my eyes about,
" To find my foe the cruel Boemond out;
" The dire usurper, whose relentless hand
" Slew my great sire, and seiz'd my native land! "

Thus while they spoke observant of the foe,
The Duke descends, and joins his host below:
For now resolv'd, and hopeless to prevail
Where Salem's eminence o'erlook'd the vale,
Incumbent on the opener north he lay,
Spread out his camp, and made his engines play,
Where every rampart shook beneath his power
From the far portal to the utmost tower —
In compass near a third; for such the space
That circles Sion in a wide embrace;
Not with thin ensigns lengthening tow'rd the mound,
Could Godfrey's army hem the wondrous round:
Yet every lane and every pass he barr'd,
And fix'd the frequent terrors of a guard;
Around his camp the spacious lines he drew,
And broad and deep his guardian trenches threw,
To shield his legions from untimely fight,
And every dark hostility of night.

These orders given, the General held his way
Where Dudon, much lamented hero, lay:
High on a bier, with warlike honours graced,
In woful pomp the Great Remains were placed;
Snapp'd arms and sable ensigns spread the ground,
And mingling princes pour'd their griefs around.

At Bulloign's sight, the sadly silent croud,
Renew'd in rising sorrows, wept aloud;
But he, with majesty that bore the show
Of dirge in triumph, or of cheer in woe,
Approaching, touch'd the bier, represt his grief;
And thus pathetic spoke the mourning Chief.

" Hail Dudon! hail to thy eternal birth,
" Revived in Heaven from all thy toils on earth!
" Nor yet shall Heaven the total hero claim,
" Still found on earth, immortal in his fame!
" In life, my friend, in death thou didst excel;
" Valiant you fought, and valiantly you fell!
" Closed is thy warfare, finish'd is thy fight,
" And stars of living glory crown thy might!
" Not, not for thee, this sable cloud of woe;
" But for ourselves our juster sorrows flow:
" Our arm of war's unnerv'd upon thy bier,
" And broke with thine is every pointless spear;
" Despoil'd of thee, thou chiefest earthly aid,
" Our banners droop, and all our laurels fade!
" Yet the Great Cause that might inform the dead,
" The Cause survives, for which thy bosom bled;
" Survives to warm thee with its wonted charms,
" And wing thy soul assistant to our arms,
" When in the powers of heavenly mission bright,
" Once more thou shalt descend to rule the fight,
" In terrors wrap'd to thunder on the foe,
" To lay the pride of all oppressors low,
" To raze the height of yon embattel'd wall,
" And lift thy friends victorious from thy fall! "
He said — And now the slumberous dew of night
Mix'd with the shade, and sunk upon the sight;
O'er care-swoln lids effused the balm of sleep,
And closed those eyes that daily learn'd to weep.
But Bulloign on his pensive pillow lay,
Revolv'd through every labour of the day,
While forming in his wakeful round of thought
Machines arose, and novel combats fought.

The bright-eyed morn from early vapour won,
Saw Godfrey arm'd, and orient with the sun;
At Dundon's herse, the friendly melting Chief
Pour'd the last tribute of attending grief.
Him a long train of funeral pomp convey'd,
And low in earth the warrior's corse they laid,
Where a tall palm its branching honours spread,
Wove in the wind, and worship'd o'er the dead;
His dust the priestly consecration blest,
And sung the great departed soul to rest.

High o'er his tomb, amid the branches strung,
Ensigns, and arms, and blazon'd trophies hung,
The pride and spoils of many a valiant knight,
Seiz'd by the Victor in his days of fight.
Full on the trunk his proper arms were placed,
His plumy helm the joining corslet graced;
And thus the marble bore his sacred name —
" Here Dudon lies — yet fills the world with fame. "

The last sad rites of social woes exprest,
And Dudon left to his eternal rest,
The Chief of chiefs, on public cares intent,
A convoy to the secret forest sent,
Where silent grew its unfrequented shade,
Now by a Syrian to the Duke betray'd,
Who meditates from hence on Sion's fall,
And plans machines the rivals of her wall.

The Woodmen now dispose their ranging bands,
The alternate axe high brandish'd in their hands;
Unwonted noise the affrighted forest fills,
And Echo sighs from all the circling hills.
Beneath their strokes the victor palms subside;
Down falls the pine from its aerial pride;
Still breathes the cedar o'er a length of ground;
The firs in weeping amber mourn around;
Fell'd with her elm the viney consort lies,
And faithful o'er the folded trunk she dies.

The poplar, beech, and alder's watery shade,
Sink on the marsh, or wither o'er the glade:
Imperial oaks, that, through ten ages past,
Had braved heaven's bolt and rough encountering blast,
The period now of mortal glory feel,
And fall subdued beneath the conquering steel:
The exiled pard abjures his wonted den,
And every feather flies the voice of men:
Wide lie the realms of long usurping night,
And scenes unfold that never saw the light!