The miscellaneous works (1739)

Erminia , by the centinels surpriz'd,
Fled all the night, in burnish'd arms disguis'd;
And all the day thro' pathless woods she stray'd,
Of ev'ry whisp'ring breath of wind afraid:
But now the sun his shining progress ends,
Deserts the skies, and to the sea descends;
The nymph arrives where wealthy Jordan flows,
And on his flow'ry borders seeks repose;
Soft sleep, that wish'd relief to mortals brings,
Spreads o'er the beauteous maid his downy wings;

But restless love his empire still maintains,
And o'er her dreams in airy triumph reigns.
At last the birds salute the rising light,
And wanton winds the rosy morn invite;
They curl the streams, and dance along the waves,
Glide thro' the woods, and whisper in the leaves:
Each painted blossom opens to the day,
With them, Erminia's eyes their charms display:
With pensive looks, the prospect round she view'd,
The shepherds tents, and rural solitude;
Each ruffling noise awakes her former fears,
'Till thro' the boughs a tuneful note she hears:
The fields and floods the chearful sound retain,
And sportive echoes mock the jovial swain;
Who careless near the banks of Jordan sate,
Nor fear'd the stars, nor curs'd relentless fate:
Pleas'd with his honest art, he baskets wove;
Three sprightly boys to imitate him strove.
The princess nearer drew, with wild affright
The children fled the unaccustom'd sight,
'Till the bright helmet from her head she took,
Reveal'd a female face, and modest look;
The golden tresses o'er her shoulders fell,
And all their fears her charming eyes dispel:
Her face no more a martial terror boasts,
When thus the wond'ring shepherd she accosts.

Thrice happy man! the gods peculiar care
Protects thee from the wasteful rage of war:
I come not here to offer hostile wrongs,
To interrupt thy labours, or thy songs;

But by what methods hast thou found defence,
Against the sword's impartial violence;
While clashing arms, and the shrill trumpet's sound,
With endless jars, perplex the regions round?

My humble state, fair maid, the swain replies,
Beneath the turns of changing fortune lies:
While lightning blasts the mountain's lofty brow,
The humble valley smiles secure below.
From all the tumults which distract the great,
We live exempt in this obscure retreat;
The gods themselves the rural life approve,
And kindly guard the innocence they love:
In groves we sleep, from spoil and rapine free,
Content with little, blest in poverty.
This life (which yet ambitious men despise)
Before a court's licentious joys, I prize:
Nor pride, nor sordid avarice, molest
The soft tranquility within my breast.
Unartful meats supply my frugal board,
And drink the pure, untainted springs afford;
No poisons thro' their channels are convey'd,
Nor are we here in golden cups betray'd:
These youths, my sons, to labour us'd, like me,
Attend my flocks with chearful industry.
Nor think these shades can no delights afford;
With various harmless beasts the woods are stor'd,
Among the boughs melodious birds reside,
And scaly fish along the rivers glide.

Yet other motives did my youth engage,
And wild ambition fir'd my blooming age;

I scorn'd the peasant's care and humble toils,
And left my native shores, for foreign soils;
And in th' Egyptian court my suit preferr'd:
My suit the condescending noble heard.
The royal gardens soon were made my care;
I learn'd the fatal snares of greatness there,
Its impious methods, and unconstant state;
But learn'd, alas! the dear mistake too late:
My prime was past, my airy wishes cross'd,
And all my dreams of rising fortune lost,
With weeping eyes, the country scenes I view'd,
And bless'd my once inglorious solitude;
The smooth tranquility, the gay content,
In which my former happy days were spent.
Resolv'd again those pleasures to pursue,
With just remorse, I bid the court adieu.
The day was doubly fortunate for me,
Which set me from its gaudy bondage free.

His wise discourse th' attentive princess pleas'd,
And half the tempest of her soul appeas'd:
She now resolves to try, far from the strife
Of factious courts, an unambitious life.
She paus'd ------ then thus, with gentle words, began
T'address the hoary venerable man.

If, by the disappointments thou hast prov'd,
Thy kind relief, and pity may be mov'd,
Conduct me to some hospitable cell,
And let me in these calm recesses dwell:
There quiet shades, perhaps, will ease my grief,
And give my restless passions some relief.

By thy example taught, I shall grow wise;
With that, a tear grac'd her prevailing eyes:
Some pitying drops the careful shepherd shed,
And to his cottage the fair stranger led.
A father's kind indulgence fills his breast;
His wife, with joy, receives the royal guest;
Who now her nodding helmet lays aside,
Her gilded arms, and ornamental pride;
Then in a sylvan dress, the graceful maid,
All negligent, her decent limbs array'd;
But nothing rustic in her careless mien,
The princess still thro' all disguise was seen:
Majestic beauty lighten'd in her face,
She mov'd, and spoke, with an unvulgar grace;
An air of grandeur, not to be suppress'd,
Her noble mind and high descent confess'd.
Yet to the fold her bleating flocks she drove,
And with her native delicacy strove:
Sometimes along the fresh enamel'd meads,
Her harmless charge, with gentle pace she leads;
And, oft beneath some laurel's shade reclin'd,
With Tancred's name, she wounds the tender rind:
Each tree that flourish'd in the conscious grove,
The records bore of her successless love.
And when the tragic story she review'd,
The sad description all her grief renew'd;
With love and melting sorrow in her eyes,
Ye verdant plants, the pensive charmer cries,
Ye pines, and spreading laurels, as ye grow,
Retain the deep inscriptions of my woe;
Some wretched maid, undone by love, like me,
Shall mourn my injur'd faith, and partial destiny.

But if my charming hero here should stray,
As grant, ye blest propitious powers, he may!
And wand'ring, find in ev'ry shade his name,
My secret care, and undiscover'd flame,
Long after death has clos'd my wretched eyes,
And in the grave this mortal relick lies;
Some tender sigh, some grateful tear may prove
The late success of my unblemish'd love.
My hov'ring ghost, pleas'd with that soft return,
The rigour of my fate no more should mourn.

With these complaints, she sooths her fond desires,
And vainly to the fields and shades retires;
The fields and shades indulge her fatal fires:
While Tancred, yet a stranger to her charms,
Among the toils of war, and fierce alarms,
Pursues a nobler fate in military arms.

University of Virginia Library

The story of Erminia. Translated from the seventh Book of Tasso's Jerusalem.