I

  Wretched that evil man who lives in trust

  His secret sin is safe in his possession!

  Since, if nought else, the air, the very dust

  In which the crime is buried, makes confession,

  And oftentimes his guilt compels the unjust,

  Though sometime unarraigned in worldly session,

  To be his own accuser, and bewray,

  So God has willed, deeds hidden from the day.

  II

  The unhappy Polinesso hopes had nursed,

  Wholly his secret treason to conceal.

  By taking off Dalinda, who was versed

  In this, and only could the fact reveal;

  And adding thus a second to his first

  Offence, but hurried on the dread appeal,

  Which haply he had stunned, at least deferred;

  But he to self-destruction blindly spurred.

  III

  And forfeited estate, and life, and love

  Of friends at once, and honour, which was more.

  The cavalier unknown, I said above,

  Long of the king and court entreated sore,

  At length the covering helmet did remove,

  And showed a visage often seen before,

  The cherished face of Ariodantes true,

  Of late lamented weeping Scotland through;

  IV

  Ariodantes, whom with tearful eye

  His brother and Geneura wept as dead,

  And king, and people, and nobility:

  Such light his goodness and his valour shed.

  The pilgrim therefore might appear to lie

  In what he of the missing warrior said.

  Yet was it true that from a headland, he

  Had seen him plunge into the foaming sea.

  V

  But, as it oft befalls despairing wight,

  Who grisly Death desires till he appear;

  But loathes what he had sought, on nearer sight;

  So painful seems the cruel pass and drear.

  Thus, in the sea engulphed, the wretched knight,

  Repentant of his deed, was touched with fear;

  And, matchless both for spirit and for hand,

  Beat back the billows, and returned to land.

  VI

  And, now despising, as of folly bred,

  The fond desire which did to death impell,

  Thence, soaked and dripping wet, his way did tread,

  And halted at a hermit's humble cell:

  And housed within the holy father's shed,

  There secretly awhile designed to dwell;

  Till to his ears by rumour should be voiced,

  If his Geneura sorrowed or rejoiced.

  VII

  At first he heard that, through excess of woe,

  The miserable damsel well-nigh died:

  For so abroad the doleful tidings go,

  'Twas talked of in the island, far and wide:

  Far other proof than that deceitful show,

  Which to his cruel grief he thought he spied!

  And next against the fair Geneura heard

  Lurcanio to her sire his charge preferred:

  VIII

  Nor for his brother felt less enmity

  Than was the love he lately bore the maid;

  For he too foul, and full of cruelty,

  Esteemed the deed, although for him essayed;

  And, hearing after, in her jeopardy,

  That none appeared to lend the damsel aid,

  Because so puissant was Lurcanio's might,

  All dreaded an encounter with the knight,

  IX

  And that who well the youthful champion knew,

  Believed he was so wary and discreet,

  That, had what he related been untrue,

  He never would have risqued so rash a feat,

  — For this the greater part the fight eschew,

  Fearing in wrongful cause the knight to meet —

  Ariodantes (long his doubts are weighed)

  Will meet his brother in Geneura's aid.

  X

  "Alas! (he said) I cannot bear to see

  Thus by my cause the royal damsel die;

  My death too bitter and too dread would be,

  Did I, before my own, her death descry;

  For still my lady, my divinity

  She is; — the light and comfort of my eye.

  Her, right or wrong, I cannot choose but shield,

  And for her safety perish in the field.

  XI

  "I know I choose the wrong, and be it so!

  And in the cause shall die: nor this would move;

  But that, alas! my death, as well I know,

  Will such a lovely dame's destruction prove,

  To death I with one only comfort go,

  That, if her Polinesso bears her love,

  To her will manifestly be displayed,

  That hitherto he moves not in her aid.

  XII

  "And me, so wronged by her, the maid shall view

  Encounter death in her defence; and he,

  My brother, who such flames of discord blew,

  Shall pay the debt of vengeance due to me.

  For well I ween to make Lurcanio rue

  (Informed of the event) his cruelty,

  Who will have thought to venge me with his brand,

  And will have slain me with his very hand."

  XIII

  He, having this concluded in his thought,

  Made new provision of arms, steed, and shield;

  Black was the vest and buckler which he bought,

  Where green and yellow striped the sable field:

  By hazard found, with him a squire he brought,

  A stranger in that country; and, concealed

  (As is already told) the unhappy knight,

  Against his brother came, prepared for fight.

  XV

  And yielding to his natural inclination,

  And at the suit of all his court beside,

  And mostly at Rinaldo's instigation,

  Assigned the youth the damsel as his bride.

  Albany's duchy, now in sequestration,

  Late Polinesso's, who in duel died,

  Could not be forfeited in happier hour;

  Since this the monarch made his daughter's dower.

  XVI

  Rinaldo for Dalinda mercy won;

  Who from her fault's due punishment went free.

  She, satiate of the world, (and this to shun,

  The damsel so had vowed) to God will flee:

  And hence, in Denmark's land, to live a nun,

  Straight from her native Scotland sailed the sea.

  But it is time Rogero to pursue,

  Who on his courser posts the welkin through.

  XVII

  Although Rogero is of constant mind,

  Not from his cheek the wonted hues depart.

  I ween that faster than a leaf i' the wind

  Fluttered within his breast the stripling's heart.

  All Europe's region he had left behind

  In his swift course; and, issuing in that part,

  Passed by a mighty space, the southern sound

  Where great Alcides fixed the sailor's bound.

  XVIII

  That hippogryph, huge fowl, and strange to sight,

  Bears off the warrior with such rapid wing,

  He would have distanced, in his airy flight,

  The thunder bearing bird of Aether's king:

  Nor other living creature soars such height,

  Him in his mighty swiftness equalling.

  I scarce believe that bolt, or lightning flies,

  Or darts more swiftly from the parted skies.

  XIX

  When the huge bird his pinions long had plied,

  In a straight line, without one stoop or bend,

  He, tired of air, with sweeping wheel and wide,

  Began upon an island to descend;

  Like that fair region, whither, long unspied

  Of him, her wayward mood did long offend,

  Whilom in vain, through strange and secret sluice,

  Passed under sea the Virgin Arethuse.

  XX

  A more delightful place, wherever hurled

  Through the whole air, Rogero had not found:

  And, had he ranged the universal world,

  Would not have seen a lovelier in his round,

  Than that, where, wheeling wide, the courser furled

  His spreading wings, and lighted on the ground,

  'Mid cultivated plain, delicious hill,

  Moist meadow, shady bank, and crystal rill.

  XXI

  Small thickets, with the scented laurel gay,

  Cedar, and orange, full of fruit and flower,

  Myrtle and palm, with interwoven spray,

  Pleached in mixed modes, all lovely, form a bower;

  And, breaking with their shade the scorching ray,

  Make a cool shelter from the noontide hour.

  And nightingales among those branches wing

  Their flight, and safely amorous descants sing.

  XXII

  Amid red roses and white lilies there,

  Which the soft breezes freshen as they fly,

  Secure the cony haunts, and timid hare,

  And stag, with branching forehead broad and high.

  These, fearless of the hunter's dart or snare,

  Feed at their ease, or ruminating lie:

  While, swarming in those wilds, from tuft or steep

  Dun deer or nimble goat, disporting, leap.

  XXIII

  When the hyppogryph above the island hung,

  And had approached so nigh that landscape fair,

  That, if his rider from the saddle sprung,

  He might the leap with little danger dare,

  Rogero lit the grass and flowers among,

  But held him, lest he should remount the air:

  And to a myrtle, nigh the rolling brine,

  Made fast, between a bay-tree and a pine.

  XXIV

  And there, close-by where rose a bubbling fount,

  Begirt the fertile palm and cedar-tree,

  He drops the shield, the helmet from his front

  Uplifts, and, either hand from gauntlet free,

  Now turning to the beach, and now the mount,

  Catches the gales which blow from hill or sea,

  And, with a joyous murmur, lightly stir

  The lofty top of beech, or feathery fir:

  XXV

  And, now, to bathe his burning lips he strains;

  Now dabbles in the crystal wave, to chase

  The scorching heat which rages in his veins,

  Caught from the heavy corslet's burning case.

  Nor is it marvel if the burden pains;

  No ramble his in square or market-place!

  Three thousand miles, without repose, he went,

  And still, at speed, in ponderous armour pent.

  XXVI

  Meanwhile the courser by the myrtle's side,

  Whom he left stabled in the cool retreat,

  Started at something in the wood descried,

  Scared by I know not what; and in his heat

  So made the myrtle shake where he was tied,

  He brought a shower of leaves about his feet;

  He made the myrtle shake and foliage fall,

  But, struggling, could not loose himself withal.

  XXVII

  As in a stick to feed the chimney rent,

  Where scanty pith ill fills the narrow sheath,

  The vapour, in its little channel pent,

  Struggles, tormented by the fire beneath;

  And, till its prisoned fury find a vent,

  Is heard to hiss and bubble, sing and seethe:

  So the offended myrtle inly pined,

  Groaned, murmured, and at last unclosed its rind:

  XXVIII

  And hence a clear, intelligible speech

  Thus issued, with a melancholy sound;

  "If, as thy cheer and gentle presence teach,

  Thou courteous art and good, his reign unbound,

  Release me from this monster, I beseech:

  Griefs of my own inflict sufficient wound:

  Nor need I, compassed with such ills about,

  Other new pain to plague me from without."

  XXIX

  At the first sound, Rogero turns to see

  Whence came the voice, and, in unused surprise,

  Stands, when he finds it issues from the tree;

  And swiftly to remove the courser hies.

  Then, with a face suffused with crimson, he

  In answer to the groaning myrtle, cries;

  "Pardon! and, whatsoe'er thou art, be good,

  Spirit of man, or goddess of the wood!

  XXX

  "Unweeting of the wonderous prodigy

  Of spirit, pent beneath the knotty rind,

  To your fair leaf and living body I

  Have done this scathe and outrage undesigned.

  But not the less for that, to me reply,

  What art thou, who, in rugged case confined,

  Dost live and speak? And so may never hail

  From angry heaven your gentle boughs assail!

  XXXI

  "And if I now or ever the despite

  I did thee can repair, or aid impart,

  I, by that lady dear, my promise plight,

  Who in her keeping has my better part,

  To strive with word and deed, till thou requite

  The service done with praise and grateful heart."

  Rogero said; and, as he closed his suit,

  That gentle myrtle shook from top to root.

  XXXII

  Next drops were seen to stand upon the bark,

  As juice is sweated by the sapling-spray,

  New-severed, when it yields to flame and spark,

  Sometime in vain kept back and held at bay.

  And next the voice began: "My story dark,

  Forced by thy courteous deed, I shall display; —

  What once I was — by whom, through magic lore,

  Changed to a myrtle on the pleasant shore.

  XXXIII

  "A peer of France, Astolpho was my name,

  Whilom a paladin, sore feared in fight;

  Cousin I was to two of boundless fame,

  Orlando and Rinaldo. I by right

  Looked to all England's crown; my lawful claim

  After my royal father, Otho hight.

  More dames than one my beauty served to warm,

  And in conclusion wrought my single harm.

  XXXIV

  "Returning from those isles, whose eastern side

  The billows of the Indian ocean beat,

  Where good Rinaldo and more knights beside

  With me were pent in dark and hollow seat,

  Thence, rescued by illustrious Brava's pride,

  Whose prowess freed us from that dark retreat,

  Westward I fared along the sandy shores,

  On which the stormy north his fury pours.

  XXXV

  "Pursuing thus our rugged journey, we

  Came (such our evil doom) upon the strand,

  Where stood a mansion seated by the sea:

  Puissant Alcina owned the house and land.

  We found her, where, without her dwelling, she

  Had taken on the beach her lonely stand;

  And though nor hook nor sweeping net she bore,

  What fish she willed, at pleasure drew to shore.

  XXXVI

  "Thither swift dolphins gambol, inly stirred,

  And open-mouthed the cumbrous tunnies leap;

  Thither the seal or porpus' wallowing herd

  Troop at her bidding, roused from lazy sleep;

  Raven-fish, salmon, salpouth, at her word,

  And mullet hurry through the briny deep,

  With monstrous backs above the water, sail

  Ork, physeter, sea-serpent, shark, and whale.

  XXXVII

  "There we behold a mighty whale, of size

  The hugest yet in any water seen:

  More than eleven paces, to our eyes,

  His back appears above the surface green:

  And (for still firm and motionless he lies,

  And such the distance his two ends between)

  We all are cheated by the floating pile,

  And idly take the monster for an isle.

  XXXVIII

  "Alcina made the ready fish obey

  By simple words and by mere magic lore:

  Born with Morgana — but I cannot say

  If at one birth, or after or before.

  As soon as seen, my aspect pleased the fay;

  Who showed it in the countenance she wore:

  Then wrought with art, and compassed her intent,

  To part me from the friends with whom I went.

  XXXIX

  "She came towards us with a cheerful face,

  With graceful gestures, and a courteous air,

  And said: 'So you my lodging please to grace,

  Sir cavalier, and will with me repair,

  You shall behold the wonders of my chace,

  And note the different sorts of fish I snare;

  Shaggy or smooth, or clad in scales of light,

  And more in number than the stars of night:

  XL

  " 'And would you hear a mermaid sing so sweet,

  That the rude sea grows civil at her song,

  Wont at this hour her music to repeat,

  (With that she showed the monster huge and long

  — I said it seemed an island — as her seat)

  Pass with me where she sings the shoals among.'

  I, that was always wilful, at her wish,

  I now lament my rashness, climb the fish.

  XLI

  "To Dudon and Rinaldo's signal blind,

  I go, who warn me to misdoubt the fay.

  With laughing face Alcina mounts behind,

  Leaving the other two beside the bay.

  The obedient fish performs the task assigned,

  And through the yielding water works his way.

  Repentant of my deed, I curse the snare,

  Too far from land my folly to repair.

  XLII

  "To aid me swam Mount Alban's cavalier,

  And was nigh drowned amid the waves that rise;

  For a south-wind sprang up that, far and near,

  Covered with sudden darkness seas and skies.

  I know not after what befel the peer:

  This while Alcina to console me tries,

  And all that day, and night which followed, me

  Detained upon that monster in mid-sea,

  XLIII

  "Till to this isle we drifted with the morn,

  Of which Alcina keeps a mighty share;

  By that usurper from a sister torn,

  Who was her father's universal heir:

  For that she only was in wedlock born,

  And for those other two false sisters were

  (So well-instructed in the story, said

  One who rehearsed the tale) in incest bred.

  XLIV

  "As these are practised in iniquity,

  And full of every vice and evil art;

  So she, who ever lives in chastity,

  Wisely on better things has set her heart.

  Hence, leagued against her, in conspiracy,

  Those others are, to drive her from her part:

  And more than once their armies have o'errun

  Her realm, and towns above a hundred won.

  XLV

  "Nor at this hour a single span of ground

  Would Logistilla (such her name) command,

  But that a mountain here, and there a sound,

  Protects the remnant from the invading band.

  'Tis thus the mountain and the river bound

  England, and part it from the Scottish land.

  Yet will the sisters give their foe no rest,

  Till of her scanty remnant dispossest.

  XLVI

  "Because in wickedness and vice were bred

  The pair, as chaste and good they loath the dame.

  But, to return to what I lately said,

  And to relate how I a plant became;

  Me, full of love, the kind Alcina fed

  With full delights; nor I a weaker flame

  For her, within my burning heart did bear,

  Beholding her so courteous and so fair.

  XLVII

  "Clasped in her dainty limbs, and lapt in pleasure,

  I weened that I each separate good had won,

  Which to mankind is dealt in different measure,

  Little or more to some, and much to none.

  I evermore contemplated my treasure,

  Nor France nor aught beside I thought upon:

  In her my every fancy, every hope

  Centered and ended as their common scope.

  XLVIII

  "By her I was as much beloved, or more;

  Nor did Alcina now for other care;

  She left her every lover; for before,

  Others, in truth, the fairy's love did share:

  I was her close adviser evermore;

  And served by her, where they commanded were.

  With me she counselled, and to me referred;

  Nor, night nor day, to other spake a word.

  XLIX

  "Why touch my wounds, to aggravate my ill,

  And that, alas! without the hope of cure?

  Why thus the good possessed remember still,

  Amid the cruel penance I endure?

  When kindest I believed Alcina's will,

  And fondly deemed my happiness secure,

  From me the heart she gave, the fay withdrew,

  And yielded all her soul to love more new.

  L

  "Late I discerned her light and fickle bent,

  Still loving and unloving at a heat:

  Two months, I reigned not more, no sooner spent,

  Than a new paramour assumed my seat;

  And me, with scorn, she doomed to banishment,

  From her fair grace cast out. 'Tis then I weet

  I share a thousand lovers' fate, whom she

  Had to like pass reduced, all wrongfully.

  LI

  "And these, because they should not scatter bruits,

  Roaming the world, of her lascivious ways,

  She, up and down the fruitful soil, transmutes

  To olive, palm, or cedar, firs or bays.

  These, as you see me changed, Alcina roots;

  While this transformed into a monster strays;

  Another melts into a liquid rill;

  As suits that haughty fairy's wanton will.

  LII

  "Thou, too, that to this fatal isle art led

  By way unwonted and till now unknown,

  That some possessor of the fairy's bed,

  May be for thee transformed to wave or stone,

  Thou shalt, with more than mortal pleasures fed,

  Have from Alcina seigniory and throne;

  But shalt be sure to join the common flock,

  Transformed to beast or fountain, plant or rock.

  LIII

  "I willingly to thee this truth impart,

  Not that I hope with profit to advise:

  Yet 'twill be better, that informed, in part,

  Of her false ways, she harm not by surprise.

  Perhaps, as faces differ, and in art

  And wit of man an equal difference lies,

  Thou may'st some remedy perchance apply

  To the ill, which thousand others could not fly."

  LIV

  The good Rogero, who from Fame had learned

  That he was cousin to the dame he wooed,

  Lamented much the sad Astolpho, turned

  From his true form, to barren plant and rude:

  And for her love, for whom so sore he burned,

  Would gladly serve the stripling if he cou'd:

  But, witless how to give the wished relief,

  Might but console the unhappy warrior's grief.

  LV

  As best he could, he strove to soothe his pain;

  Then asked him, if to Logistil's retreat

  Were passage, whether over hill or plain;

  That he might so eschew Alcina's seat.

  — `There was a way', the myrtle said again,

  — `But rough with stones, and rugged to the feet —

  If he, some little further to the right,

  Would scale the Alpine mountain's very height:

  LVI

  `But that he must not think he shall pursue

  The intended journey far; since by the way

  He will encounter with a frequent crew,

  And fierce, who serve as rampart to the fay,

  That block the road against the stranger, who

  Would break her bounds, and the deserter stay.'

  Rogero thanked the tree for all, and taught,

  Departed thence with full instructions fraught.

  LVII

  The courser from the myrtle he untied,

  And by the bridle led behind him still;

  Nor would he, as before, the horse bestride,

  Lest he should bear him off against his will:

  He mused this while how safely he might find

  A passage to the land of Logistil;

  Firm in his purpose every nerve to strain,

  Lest empire over him Alcina gain.

  LVIII

  He to remount the steed, and through the air

  To spur him to a new career again

  Now thought; but doubted next, in fear to fare

  Worse on the courser, restive to the rein.

  "No, I will win by force the mountain stair,"

  Rogero said; (but the resolve was vain)

  Nor by the beach two miles his way pursued,

  Ere he Alcina's lovely city viewed.

  LIX

  A lofty wall at distance meets his eye

  Which girds a spacious town within its bound;

  It seems as if its summit touched the sky,

  And all appears like gold from top to ground.

  Here some one says it is but alchemy

  — And haply his opinion is unsound —

  And haply he more wittily divines:

  For me, I deem it gold because it shines.

  LX

  When he was nigh the city-walls, so bright,

  The world has not their equal, he the straight

  And spacious way deserts, the way which dight

  Across the plain, conducted to the gate;

  And by that safer road upon the right,

  Strains now against the mountain; but, in wait,

  Encounters soon the crowd of evil foes,

  Who furiously the Child's advance oppose.

  LXI

  Was never yet beheld a stranger band,

  Of mien more hideous, or more monstrous shape.

  Formed downwards from neck like men, he scanned

  Some with the head of cat, and some of ape;

  With hoof of goat that other stamped the sand;

  While some seemed centaurs, quick in fight and rape;

  Naked, or mantled in outlandish skin.

  These doting sires, those striplings bold in sin.

  LXII

  This gallops on a horse without a bit;

  This backs the sluggish ass, or bullock slow;

  These mounted on the croup of centaur sit:

  Those perched on eagle, crane, or estridge, go.

  Some male, some female, some hermaphrodit,

  These drain the cup and those the bungle blow.

  One bore a corded ladder, one a book;

  One a dull file, or bar of iron shook.

  LXIII

  The captain of this crew, which blocked the road,

  Appeared, with monstrous paunch and bloated face;

  Who a slow tortoise for a horse bestrode,

  That passing sluggishly with him did pace:

  Down looked, some here, some there, sustained the load,

  For he was drunk, and kept him in his place.

  Some wipe his brows and chin from sweat which ran,

  And others with their vests his visage fan.

  LXIV

  One, with a human shape and feet, his crest,

  Fashioned like hound, in neck and ears and head,

  Bayed at the gallant Child with angry quest,

  To turn him to the city whence he fled.

  "That will I never, while of strength possessed

  To brandish this," the good Rogero said:

  With that his trenchant faulchion he displayed,

  And pointed at him full the naked blade.

  LXV

  That monster would have smote him with a spear,

  But swiftly at his foe Rogero sprung,

  Thrust at his paunch, and drove his faulchion sheer

  Through his pierced back a palm; his buckler flung

  Before him, and next sallied there and here:

  But all too numerous was the wicked throng.

  Now grappled from behind, now punched before,

  He stands, and plies the crowd with warfare sore.

  LXVI

  One to the teeth, another to the breast,

  Of that foul race he cleft; since no one steeled

  In mail, his brows with covering helmet dressed,

  Or fought, secured by corslet or by shield;

  Yet is he so upon all quarters pressed,

  That it would need the Child, to clear the field,

  And to keep off the wicked crew which swarms,

  More than Briareus' hundred hands and arms.

  LXVII

  If he had thought the magic shield to show,

  (I speak of that the necromancer bore,

  Which dazed the sight of the astonished foe,

  Left at his saddle by the wizard Moor)

  That hideous band, in sudden overthrow,

  Blinded by this, had sunk the knight before.

  But haply he despised such mean as vile,

  And would prevail by valour, not by guile.

  LXVIII

  This as it may: the Child would meet his fate,

  Ere by so vile a band be prisoner led;

  When, lo! forth issuing from the city's gate,

  Whose wall appeared like shining gold I said,

  Two youthful dames, not born in low estate,

  If measured by their mien and garb, nor bred

  By swain, in early wants and troubles versed;

  But amid princely joys in palace nursed!

  LXIX

  On unicorn was seated either fair,

  A beast than spotless ermine yet more white;

  So lovely were the damsels, and so rare

  Their garb, and with such graceful fashion dight,

  That he who closely viewed the youthful pair,

  Would need a surer sense than mortal sight,

  To judge between the two. With such a mien

  Embodied Grace and Beauty would be seen.

  LXX

  Into the mead rode this and the other dame,

  Where the foul crew opposed the Child's retreat.

  The rabble scattered as the ladies came,

  Who with extended hand the warrior greet.

  He, with a kindling visage, red with shame,

  Thanked the two damsels for their gentle feat;

  And was content upon their will to wait,

  With them returning to that golden gate.

  LXXI

  Above, a cornice round the gateway goes,

  Somedeal projecting from the colonnade,

  In which is not a single part but glows,

  With rarest gems of India overlaid.

  Propp'd at four points, the portal did repose

  On columns of one solid diamond made.

  Whether what met the eye was false or true,

  Was never sight more fair or glad to view.

  LXXII

  Upon the sill and through the columns there,

  Ran young and wanton girls, in frolic sport;

  Who haply yet would have appeared more fair,

  Had they observed a woman's fitting port.

  All are arrayed in green, and garlands wear

  Of the fresh leaf. Him these in courteous sort,

  With many proffers and fair mien entice,

  And welcome to this opening Paradise:

  LXXIII

  For so with reason I this place may call,

  Where, it is my belief, that Love had birth;

  Where life is spent in festive game and ball,

  And still the passing moments fleet in mirth.

  Here hoary-headed Thought ne'er comes at all,

  Nor finds a place in any bosom. Dearth,

  Nor yet Discomfort, never enter here,

  Where Plenty fills her horn throughout the year.

  LXXIV

  Here, where with jovial and unclouded brow,

  Glad April seems to wear a constant smile,

  Troop boys and damsels: One, whose fountains flow,

  On the green margin sings in dulcet style;

  Others, the hill or tufted tree below,

  In dance, or no mean sport the hours beguile.

  While this, who shuns the revellers' noisy cheer,

  Tells his love sorrows in his comrade's ear.

  LXXV

  Above the laurel and pine-tree's height,

  Through the tall beech and shaggy fir-tree's spray,

  Sport little loves, with desultory flight:

  These, at their conquests made, rejoiced and gay:

  These, with the well-directed shaft, take sight

  At hearts, and those spread nets to catch their prey;

  One wets his arrows in the brook which winds,

  And one on whirling stone the weapon grinds.