The Christians, in their siege of Jerusalem, had brought a huge rolling tower against the walls, from which they battered and commanded the city with such deadly effect, that the generous Amazon Clorinda resolved to go forth in disguise and burn it.  She disclosed her design to the chieftain Argantes, for the purpose of recommending to him the care of her damsels, in case any misfortune should happen to her; but the warrior, jealous of the glory of such an enterprise, insisted on partaking it.  The old king, weeping for gratitude, joyfully gave them leave; and the Soldan of Egypt, with a generous emulation, would fain have joined them.  Argantes was about to give him a disdainful refusal, when the king interposed, and persuaded the Soldan to remain behind, lest the city should miss too many of its best defenders at one time; adding, that the risk of sallying forth should be his, in case the burners of the tower were pursued on their return.  Argantes and the Amazon then retired to prepare for the exploit, and the magician Ismeno compounded two balls of sulphur for the work of destruction.

Clorinda took off her beautiful helmet, and her surcoat of cloth of silver, and laid aside all her haughty arms, and dressed herself (hapless omen!) in black armour without polish, the better to conceal herself from the enemy.  Her faithful servant, the good old eunuch Arsetes, who had attended her from infancy, and was now following her about as well as he could with his accustomed zeal, anxiously noticed what she was doing, and guessing it was for some desperate enterprise, entreated her, by his white hairs and all the love he had shewn her, to give it up.  Finding his prayers to no purpose, he requested with great emotion that she would give ear to certain matters in her family history, which he at length felt it his duty to disclose.  “It would then,” he said, “be for herself to judge, whether she would persist in the enterprise or renounce it.”  Clorinda, at this, looked at the good man, and listened with attention.

“Not long ago,” said he, “there reigned in Ethiopia, and perhaps is still reigning, a king named Senapus, who in common with his people professed the Christian religion.  They are a black though a handsome people, and the king and his queen were of the salve colour.  The king loved her dearly, but was unfortunately so jealous, that he concealed her from the sight of mankind.  Had it been in his power, I think he would have hindered the very eyes of heaven from beholding her.  The sweet lady, however, was wise and humble, and did every thing she could to please him.

“I was not a Christian myself.  I was a Pagan slave, employed among the women about the queen, and making one of her special attendants.

“It happened, that the royal bed-chamber was painted with the story of a holy knight saving a maiden from a dragon;[1] and the maiden had a face beautifully fair, with blooming cheeks.  The queen often prayed and wept before this picture; and it made so great an impression on her, particularly the maiden’s face, that when she bore a child, she saw with consternation that the infant’s skin was of the same fair colour.  This child was thyself. [2]