«Vattene pur, crudel, con quella pace
che lasci a me; vattene, iniquo, omai.
Me tosto ignudo spirto, ombra seguace
indivisibilmente a tergo avrai.
Nova Furia, co’ serpi e con la face
tanto t’agiterò quanto t’amai.
E s’è destin ch’esca del mar, che schivi
gli scogli e l’onde e che a la pugna arrivi,
là tra ’l sangue e le morti egro giacente
mi pagherai le pene, empio guerriero.
Per nome Armida chiamerai sovente
ne gli ultimi singulti: udir ciò spero.»
Or qui mancò lo spirto a la dolente,
né quest’ultimo suono espresse intero;
e cadde tramortita e si diffuse
di gelato sudore, e i lumi chiuse.
«Set off then, cruel one, with this peace
that you leave me; set off now, wicked one.
You will soon have my pure spirit, a tenacious shadow,
forever haunting you behind your shoulders.
A new Fury, with serpents and the torch,
I will haunt you as much as I loved you.
And if Fate should allow you to escape the sea, to dodge
the rocks and waves and arrive in time for battle,
there, fallen suffering amidst the blood and the dead,
you will pay for my sorrows, cruel warrior.
Frequently you will call by name Armida
in your final sobs; that's what I hope to hear.»
Then the strength left her, sorrowful,
she didn't even finish this last sound;
and fell, stunned and was overcome
by a freezing sweat, and closed her eyes.
- Translation by Campelli, with corrections by Gerhard Weydt
"Go cruel, go, go with such peace, such rest,
Such joy, such comfort, as thou leavest me here:
My angry soul discharged from this weak breast,
Shall haunt thee ever, and attend thee near,
And fury-like in snakes and firebrands dressed,
Shall aye torment thee, whom it late held dear:
And if thou 'scape the seas, the rocks, and sands
And come to fight among the Pagan bands,
There lying wounded, mongst the hurt and slain,
Of these my wrongs thou shalt the vengeance bear,
And oft Armida shalt thou call in vain,
At thy last gasp; this hope I soon to hear:"
Here fainted she, with sorrow, grief and pain,
Her latest words scant well expressed were,
But in a swoon on earth outstretched she lies,
Stiff were her frozen limbs, closed were her eyes.
Translated by Edward Fairfax (1560-1635)