Again all-anxious to her home she turns,
Again expects him, and again she mourns. Now twenty suns had risen, nor yet appears Her tardy lord, nor tidings yet she hears:
While such her plaints, that in the realms below The snaky fiends had wept to hear her woe: With piteous sighs she rends her golden hairs, Nor her fair face or heaving bosom spares.
Then thus---Ah! wretched, wretched maid (she cries) To follow one, who, while thou follow'st, flies!
Him wilt thou prize who treats thee thus in scorn,
Or him implore who never makes return? Shall he my heart possess who bears me hate? Who holds his virtues at so high a rate, Some goddess must forsake her seats above To kindle in his breast the flames of love? He knows to him my heart, my vows I give, Nor will he yet my heart or vows receive:
For him I bleed, for him, alas! I die,
Yet he obdurate can relief deny.
Ile flies me now---nor more attends my pain
Than the deaf adder heeds the charmer's strain.
Ah! Love!--repress his speed who leads the race
So swift, while I pursue with tardy pace;
Or to her happy state a maid restore,
Ere her fond bosom own'd another's power.
But wherefore should I hope in vain to move With prayers or plaints the ruthless God of love?
Ver. 136. Than the deaf adder--] An expression drawn from the verse in the Psalms:-" the adder refuses to hear the voice of the charmer."
That God, to whom my anguish transport gives, Who drinks my tears, and in my suffering lives! Ah! luckless maid! of what shall I complain, But the vain prospect of desire as vain; Desire that lifts me to so bold a flight, My pinions shrivel in the sultry height: All unsupported now I fall from Heaven; Nor here a period to my fate is given: Again I soar, again I catch the flame: My daring endless, and my fall the same! Yet more than all must I condemn the breast That such desire could harbour for her guest: A guest that Reason from her seat compell'd, And every sense subdu'd in bondage held. From bad to worse my wretched soul is tost, Nor can I passion rule where rule is lost! Yet wherefore should I now myself reprove?
What crimes, alas! are mine but crimes of love?
What wonder that the soft, the frailer sense Of womankind should make but weak defence?
Was I requir'd t'oppose with wisdom's arms
His looks, his speech, his more than manly charms? Most wretched he, forbid with longing sight
To view the beams of Sol's all-cheering light!
Not destiny alone impell'd my course, Another's words, and words of mighty force,
From this beginning love foretold my doom, My future bliss and great events to come.
Ver. 148. My pinions shrivel---] Rather an obscure allusion to the fable of Icarus, whose wings were melted in his flight too near the sun.
If Merlin's prophecy no credit claim'd, If every counsel for deceit was fram'd, Him may I well reproach---but never more Can free my soul from him my thoughts adore. All, all my plaints (for ever fix'd to mourn) To Merlin and Melissa must return,
Who brought, by help of many a hellish spright, Fallacious visions to deceive my sight
With unborn sons; and with expectance vain Involv'd me thus in love's perplexing chain: Yet, ah! what cause could thus excite their hate, But envy of my happy virgin state?
Thus she; while with despair and grief opprest, She seem'd to banish comfort from her breast: But soon the flatterer Hope intruding brought Delusive aid, recalling to her thought Rogero's parting words, and bade her still (Whatever fears her gentle soul might fill)
Await his wish'd return; and thus with wiles
Beyond the twenty days fond Hope beguiles
Her easy heart, and soothes her to behold Another month in expectation roll'd.
With mind more calm, as on a certain day (Such was her wont) she pass'd the public way
To meet her lord, she heard what must destroy Each little glimpse of every promis'd joy. For near Albano's walls the noble dame Beheld a knight of Gascony, who came From Afric's camp, a prisoner there confin'd What time near Paris walls the battle join'd.
With him she commun'd, much of him inquir'd
To lead him to the point she most desir'd:
Rogero nam'd, her wish no further sought, On him alone hung every anxious thought. The knight who knew the peers of Afric well, Reveal'd whate'er the noble youth befel, Whom late he saw with Mandricardo stand Oppos'd in combat, when with conquering hand The chief he slew, and from that glorious day A tedious month with wounds enfeebled lay. Here had he clos'd, his tale had well explain'd The cause that good Rogero thus detain'd. To this he adds, that to the canıp there came A gallant maid, Marphisa was her name, No less renown'd for beauty than for arms; In valour first, and first in female charms : That her Rogero, she Rogero lov❜d,
Scarce ever seen apart---that all approv'd
Their growing loves---and prince and peer believ'd That each from each the pledge of faith receiv'd;
And hop'd the knight recover'd from his bed Of pain and sickness, would the virgin wed; From which fair union warriors yet unborn In future ages might the world adorn.
This wish'd alliance spread from man to man In loud report that through the country ran, By signs confirm'd--with good Rogero came In aid of Agramant the martial dame; And when Marphisa from the camp in scorn (As late I told) had false Brunello borne, Uncall'd she back resum'd her former way, When in his bed Rogero wounded lay. On him alone seem'd bent her anxious mind; To him alone her visits seem'd design'd;
For oft beside his couch from morning light Till evening shade she watch'd the wounded knight. Each wonder'd much that she whose soul despis'd All human race, nor power, nor riches priz'd, Should for Rogero vail her wonted pride, Should smile on him, and frown on all beside.
While thus the Gascon knight confirms his tale, At every word heart-rending pangs assail The wretched Bradamant: a chillness creeps
Through all her veins, and scarce her seat she keeps. Without a word she turns her courser's rein, While wrath and jealousy within maintain A mingled war: each hope dissolv'd in air, Back to her home she hastes in wild despair. Behold all arm'd the wretched virgin spread With face declin'd upon her lonely bed! From listening ears to hide her grief she tries, Her grief that seeks to break in plaintive cries; Till oft revolving what the knight had told, No longer can her breast its anguish hold.
Then thus-In whom hereafter shall I trust? All, all are false, ungrateful and unjust! Since, dear Rogero, thou canst faithless prove, Rogero once so priz'd for truth and love. Of all the sorrows, all the tears that flow From public sufferings or domestic woe, My wrongs are first--and since no living knight Excels thy mien in peace, thy arm in fight; Since none with thee for prowess can compare, For courtly grace, for all that wins the fair, Why can we not amidst thy palms entwine Another wreath, and constancy be thine?
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