Original
Modern English
Alas! and would you take the letter of her? Might you not know she would do as she has done, By sending me a letter? Read it again.
Oh no! Would you really accept her letter? Didn’t you know she would do exactly what she did, By sending me this letter? Read it again.
[Reads] I am Saint Jaques’ pilgrim, thither gone: Ambitious love hath so in me offended, That barefoot plod I the cold ground upon, With sainted vow my faults to have amended. Write, write, that from the bloody course of war My dearest master, your dear son, may hie: Bless him at home in peace, whilst I from far His name with zealous fervor sanctify: His taken labours bid him me forgive; I, his despiteful Juno, sent him forth From courtly friends, with camping foes to live, Where death and danger dogs the heels of worth: He is too good and fair for death and me: Whom I myself embrace, to set him free.
[Reads] I am a pilgrim to Saint James, gone there: Ambitious love has so offended me, That I walk barefoot on the cold ground, With a sacred vow to make up for my faults. Write, write, that from the bloody course of war My dearest master, your dear son, may escape: Bless him at home in peace, while I, from far away, Sanctify his name with zealous devotion: His hardships ask him to forgive me; I, his spiteful Juno, sent him out From courtly friends, to live with camping foes, Where death and danger chase the worthy: He is too good and fair for death and me: I, who embrace him, set him free.
Ah, what sharp stings are in her mildest words! Rinaldo, you did never lack advice so much, As letting her pass so: had I spoke with her, I could have well diverted her intents, Which thus she hath prevented.
Oh, how sharp the pain in her gentlest words! Rinaldo, you’ve never lacked advice as much, As when you let her do this: had I spoken with her, I could have easily changed her mind, But now she’s done it anyway.
Pardon me, madam: If I had given you this at over-night, She might have been o’erta’en; and yet she writes, Pursuit would be but vain.
Pardon me, madam: If I had given you this last night, She might have been stopped; and yet she writes, Any pursuit now would be useless.
What angel shall Bless this unworthy husband? he cannot thrive, Unless her prayers, whom heaven delights to hear And loves to grant, reprieve him from the wrath Of greatest justice. Write, write, Rinaldo, To this unworthy husband of his wife; Let every word weigh heavy of her worth That he does weigh too light: my greatest grief. Though little he do feel it, set down sharply. Dispatch the most convenient messenger: When haply he shall hear that she is gone, He will return; and hope I may that she, Hearing so much, will speed her foot again, Led hither by pure love: which of them both Is dearest to me. I have no skill in sense To make distinction: provide this messenger: My heart is heavy and mine age is weak; Grief would have tears, and sorrow bids me speak.
What angel will Bless this unworthy husband? He can’t succeed, Unless her prayers, which heaven loves to hear And grants, save him from the wrath Of ultimate justice. Write, write, Rinaldo, To this unworthy husband of his wife; Let every word carry the weight of her worth, Since he takes it too lightly: my greatest sorrow. Though he feels little of it, make it clear. Send the quickest messenger: When he hears she is gone, He’ll return; and I hope that she, Hearing this, will hurry back, Guided by pure love: whichever of them Is dearest to me. I can’t decide Between them: prepare this messenger: My heart is heavy, and my age is frail; Grief calls for tears, and sorrow makes me speak.