Chapter 22

The trump of Tartarus, with iron roar, Called to the dwellers the black regions under: Hell through its caverns trembled to the core, And the blind air rebellowed to the thunder: Never yet fiery bolt more fiercely tore The crashing firmament, like rocks, asunder; Nor with so huge a shudder earth's foundations Shook to their mighty heart, lifting the nations.

The tone of this stanza (suggested otherwise by Vida) was caught from a fine one in Politian, the passage in which about the Nile I ought to have called to mind at page 168.

"Con tal romor, qualor l'aer discorda, Di Giove il foco d'alta nube piomba: Con tal tumulto, onde la gente assorda, Da l'alte cataratte il Nil rimbomba: Con tal orror del Latin sangue ingorda Sonò Megera la tartarea tromba."

_Fragment on the Jousting of Giuliano de' Medici_.

Such is the noise, when through his cloudy floor The bolt of Jove falls on the pale world under; So shakes the land, where Nile with deafening roar Plunges his clattering cataracts in thunder; Horribly so, through Latium's realm of yore, The trump of Tartarus blew ghastly wonder.]

[Footnote 2:

"La bella Armida, di sua forma altiera, E de' doni del sesso e de l'etate, L' impresa prende: e in su la prima sera Parte, e tiene sol vie chiuse e celate: E 'n treccia e 'n gonna femminile spera Vincer popoli invitti e schiere armate."