Her taper fingers long and fair to see,
From every rising vein and swelling free;
And from her vest below, with new delight,
Her slender foot attracts the lover's sight.
Not Argus' self her other charms could spy,
So closely veil'd from every longing eye;
Yet may we judge the graces she reveal'd
Surpass'd not those her modest garb conceal'd,
Which strove in vain from fancy's eye to hide,
Each angel charm that seem'd to heaven ally’d.
In all she did her ready snares were hung, Whether she spoke, or mov'd, or laugh'd, or sung. 110 No wonder then Rogero's heart was caught
By her, whose show of love enslav'd his thought.
No more he can the myrtle's counsel trust,
No more believe her cruel and unjust.
He thinks deceit can never find a place
In the soft smiles of such a lovely face;
But rather now believes Alcina's power
Had justly chang'd Astolpho on the shore;
That rage and envy made the knight defame
With lying tales the fair Alcina's name.
The damsel whom he once so dearly held,
Is, of a sudden, from his heart expell'd.
The secret, by her art, the fairy found
To heal his breast of every former wound:
Then let Rogero some indulgence claim,
Since magic charms expung'd his virtuous flame.
Now, while they feast, the lute and tuneful lyre
Th' enraptur'd soul with harmony inspire:
Through the wide dome the trembling music floats,
And undulating air conveys the notes..
One with soft lays would tender bosoms move,
And paints the passions, and the joys of love;
Or sweetly bids inventive fancy rise,
That brings poetic visions to the eyes.
Not all the festivals in story told,
By Syrian luxury prepar'd of old;
Not that which Cleopatra's royal board
With pomp display'd before her Latian lord,
Could with this sumptuous banquet claim regard, Which for the knight th' enamour'd dame prepar'd: 140. Not such is seen, when Ganymede above
Ilis service ministers to mighty Jove!
The tables now and viands thence convey'd,
The joyous train a pleasing circle made;
While each soft whisper'd in the other's ear,
Some secret, sweet to tell, or sweet to hear!
A grateful sport! by which, from all conceal'd,
The lovers well their amorous thoughts reveal'd;
Till both, at length, impell'd by soft desire,
That night agreed t' indulge their mutual fire.
This gentle pastime done, the pages came
Before their usual hour, with torches' flame
To chase the night: a rich retinue led
The brave Rogero to a stately bed.
Ver. 136. By Syrian luxury-] The successors of Ninus, first king of the Assyrians, to Sardanapalus, were famous for their luxury and effeminacy, and delighted in costly banquets.
Ver. 138.--her Latian lord,] The poet is said here to mean Julius Cæsar, who, after the death of Pompey, was entertained by Cleopatra, with a most magnificent banquet: or, perhaps, by this may be understood Marc Anthony, with whom she was known to have lived in the most amazing prodigality.
There they partook a slight repast anew
Of wine and fruits, and then the train withdrew;
And, due obedience paid their gallant guest,
All to their several rooms retir'd to rest.
Now lay the knight in sheets that breath'd perfume,
And seem'd the labour of Arachne's loom ;
Impatient, listening with attentive ear;
At every sound he deems Alcina neår;
Each fancy'd tread alarms his beating breast;
Now rais'd by wishes, now by doubts deprest!
Th' alluring fair, bedew'd with odours sweet,
Prepar'd at length the longing knight to meet;
And, when each eye was clos'd, with glowing charms
She stole in secret to Rogero's arms.
When the fond youth, that held Astolpho's place,
Survey'd the beauties of that heavenly face;
And drank the poison from her sparkling eyes;
Through every vein a sudden lightning flies!
Then leaping from the couch, with eager haste,
His clasping arms enfold her lovely waste:
He gluts his ravish'd sight! the nymph undrest
Was cover'd only with a sarc'net vest,
Which o'er a thin and spotless lawn she threw,
Of finest texture and of snowy hue.
Around a plant to wreathe their curling green,
As twin'd in wanton folds the lovers lay,
And in soft murmurs breath'd their souls away,
While from their lips such balmy sweets they drew
As Ind, with all her spices, never knew.
Thus liv'd in wanton bliss the lawless pair;
While, through the palace, with officious care,
All, at Rogero's nod, obsequious stand,
For so th' enamour'd fairy gives command.
Whate'er can charm the heart, or lure the sense
To full delight, these happy seats dispense.
The feast, the game, the race their joys enhance, 195
The scene, the bath, the tilting and the dance.
Now, by clear streams, with grateful shade o’ercast,
They read the amorous lays of ages past:
Now with barb'd hook, or meshy net they try
From quiet floods to drag the scaly fry.
While thus Rogero lives a joyous guest,
King Agramant and Charles are hardly prest;
Whose story shall not yet escape my mind,
Nor must I leave fair Bradamant behind;
Who long, ah! long, bewail'd her dearest knight,
By strange adventure ravish'd from her sight.
To her, before the rest, I turn my strain,
And tell, how far she sought with fruitless pain
Through cities, towns and camps; how far she pass'd O'er mountains, plains, and many a dreary waste; 210
In vain each day of all she met, enquir'd;
She heard no news of what her soul desir'd.
Oft to the host of Saracens she went,
And sought her lover there from tent to tent:
Between her lips the wondrous ring she held,
Which kept her safe from every eye conceal'd:
She cannot, dares not yet believe him dead,
For such a warrior's death had doubtless spread
From where the tide of fam'd Hydaspes flows,
To where the sun descends to his repose.
Uncertain of his fate; she hopes, she fears:
Her sad companions are her sighs and tears!
At length she fix'd once more the cave to seek,
Where Merlin, from his tomb, was wont to speak, 230
And round the shrine such deep affliction show,
The marble cold should soften at her woe.
There might she learn if yet her knight surviv'd,
Or lay, by doom severe, of life depriv'd ;
And thence, inform'd, her future course pursue,
As from the sage her counsel best she drew.
With this intent she took her lonely way
Tow'rds the thick forest that by Poictiers lay;
Where deep the vocal tomb of Merlin stood,
Hid in drear caves, surrounded by a wood.
But that enchantress, whose benignant mind
Reveal'd to Bradamant her race design'd,
Each day desir'd to learn the virgin's state,
And often try'd her art t' explore her fate.
Rogero freed and lost again she knew,
And how to India's distant climes he flew :
She saw him living in luxurious peace,
In wanton feasting and inglorious ease ;
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