Cheaply, dear ladies mine, is wisdom bought By those who wit at other's cost are taught.

VII Of those in the first flower of youth beware, Whose visage is so soft and smooth to sight: For past, as soon as bred, their fancies are; Like a straw fire their every appet.i.te.

So the keen hunter follows up the hare In heat and cold, on sh.o.r.e, or mountain-height; Nor, when 'tis taken, more esteems the prize; And only hurries after that which flies.

VIII Such is the practise of these striplings who, What time you treat them with austerity, Love and revere you, and such homage do, As those who pay their service faithfully; But vaunt no sooner victory, than you From mistresses shall servants grieve to be; And mourn to see the fickle love they owed, From you diverted, and elsewhere bestowed.

IX I not for this (for that were wrong) opine That you should cease to love; for you, without A lover, like uncultivated vine, Would be, that has no prop to wind about.

But the first down I pray you to decline, To fly the volatile, inconstant rout; To make your choice the riper fruits among, Nor yet to gather what too long has hung.

X A daughter they have found (above was said) Of the proud king who ruled the Friesland state; That with Bireno's brother was to wed, As far as rumour tells; but to relate The truth, a longing in Bireno bred The sight of food so pa.s.sing delicate; And he to talk his palate deemed would be, For other's sake, a foolish courtesy.

XI The gentle damsel had not past fourteen, Was beautiful and fresh, and like a rose, When this first opening from its bud is seen, And with the vernal sun expands and grows.

To say Bireno loved the youthful queen Were little; with less blaze lit tinder glows, Or ripened corn, wherever envious hand Of foe amid the grain has cast a brand,

XII Than that which on Bireno's bosom fed, And to his marrow burned; when, weeping sore The fate of her unhappy father dead, He saw her bathed in ceaseless tears deplore: And, as cold water, on the cauldron shed, Shops short the bubbling wave, which boiled before; So was the raging rife Olympia blew Within his breast, extinguished by a new.

XIII Nor feels Bireno mere satiety; He loathes her so, he ill endures her sight; And, if his hope he long deferred, will die: For other such his fickle appet.i.te!

Yet till the day prefixed to satisfy His fond desire, so feigns the wary knight, Olympia less to love than to adore He seems, and but her pleasure to explore.

XIV And if the other he too much caress, Who cannot but caress her, there are none See evil in the deed, but rather guess It is in pity, is in goodness done: Since to raise up and comfort in distress Whom Fortune's wheel beats down in changeful run, Was never blamed; with glory oftener paid; -- So much the more, a young -- a harmless maid.

XV Almighty G.o.d! how fallible and vain Is human judgment, dimmed by clouds obscure!

Bireno's actions, impious and profane, By others are reputed just and pure.

Already stooping to their oars, the train Have loosed his vessel from the port secure, And with the duke and his companions steer For Zealand through the deep, with meery cheer.

XVI Already Holland and its headlands all Are left astern, and now descried no more; Since to shun Friesland they to larboard hawl.

And keep their course more nigh the Scottish sh.o.r.e: When they are overtaken by a squall, And drive three days the open sea before: Upon the third, when now, near eventide, A barren and unpeopled isle is spied.

XVII As soon as they were harboured in a hight, Olympia landed and the board was spread; She there contented, with the faithless knight, Supt, unsuspecting any cause for dread.

Thence, with Bireno, where a tent was pight In pleasant place, repaired, and went to bed.

The others of their train returned abroad, And rested in their ship, in haven moored.

XVIII The fear and late sea sorrow, which had weighed So long upon the dame and broke her rest, The finding herself safe in greenwood shade Removed from noise, and, for her tranquil breast (Knowing her lover was beside her laid) No further thoughts, no further cares molest, Olympia lap in slumber so profound, No sheltered bear or dormouse sleeps more sound.

XIX The lover false, who, hatching treason lies, Stole from his bed in silence, when he knew She slept: his clothes he in a bundle ties, Nor other raiment on his body threw.

Then issuing forth from the pavilion hies, As if on new-born wings, towards his crew; Who, roused, unmoor without a cry, as he Commands, and loosen thence and put to sea.

XX Behind the land was left; and there to pine Olympia, who yet slept the woods among; Till from her gilded wheels the frosty rhine Aurora upon earth beneath had flung; And the old woe, beside the tumbling brine, Lamenting, halcyons mournful descant sung; When she, 'twixt sleep and waking, made a strain To reach her loved Bireno, but in vain.

XXI She no one found: the dame her arm withdrew; She tried again, yet no one found; she spread Both arms, now here, now there, and sought anew; Now either leg; but yet no better sped.

Fear banished sleep; she oped her eyes: in view Was nothing: she no more her widowed bed Would keep, but from the couch in fury sprung, And headlong forth from the pavilion flung.

XXII And seaward ran, her visage tearing sore, Presaging, and now certain of her plight: She beat her bosom, and her tresses tore, And looked (the moon was shining) if she might Discover any thing beside the sh.o.r.e; Nor, save the sh.o.r.e, was any thing in sight.

She calls Bireno, and the caverns round, Pitying her grief, Bireno's name rebound.

XXIII On the far sh.o.r.e there rose a rock; below Scooped by the breaker's beating frequently: The cliff was hollowed underneath, in show Of arch, and overhung the foaming sea.

Olympia (MIND such vigour did bestow) Sprang up the frowning crest impetuously, And, at a distance, stretched by favouring gale, Thence saw her cruel lord's departing sail.

XXIV Saw it, or seemed to see: for ill her eyes, Things through the air, yet dim and hazy, view.

She falls, all-trembling, on the ground, and lies With face than snow more cold and white in hue: But when she has again found strength to rise, Guiding her voice towards the bark which flew, Calling with all her might, the unhappy dame Calls often on her cruel consort's name.

XXV Where unavailing was the feeble note, She wept and clapt her hands in agony.

"Without its freight," she cried, "thy ship does float.

-- Where, cruel, dost thou fly so swiftly? -- Me Receive as well: -- small hinderance to thy boat, Which bears my spirit, would my body be."

And she her raiment waving in her hand, Signed to the frigate to return to land.

XXVI But the loud wind which, sweeping ocean, bears The faithless stripling's sail across the deep, Bears off as well the shriek, and moan, and prayers Of sad Olympia, sorrowing on the steep.

Thrice, cruel to herself, the dame prepares From the high rock amid the waves to leap.

But from the water lifts at length her sight, And there returns where she had pa.s.sed the night.

XXVII Stretched on the bed, upon her face she lay, Bathing it with her tears. "Last night in thee Together two found shelter," did she say; "Alas! why two together are not we At rising? False Bireno! cursed day That I was born! What here remains to me To do? What can be done? -- Alone, betrayed -- Who will console me, who afford me aid?

XXVIII "Nor man I see, nor see I work, which shows That man inhabits in this isle; nor I See ship, in which (a refuge from my woes), Embarking, I from hence may hope to fly.

Here shall I starve; nor any one to close My eyes, or give me sepulture, be by, Save wolf perchance, who roves this wood, a tomb Give me, alas! in his voracious womb.

XXIX "I live in terror, and appear to see Rough bear or lion issue even now, Or tiger, from beneath the greenwood tree, Or other beast with teeth and claws: but how Can ever cruel beast inflict on me, O cruel beast, a fouler death than thou?

Enough for them to slay me once! while I Am made by thee a thousand deaths to die.

x.x.x "But grant, e'en now, some skipper hither fare, Who may for pity bear me hence away; And that I so eschew wolf, lion, bear, Torture, and dearth, and every horrid way Of death; to Holland shall he take me, where For thee is guarded fortilage and bay; Or take me to the land where I was born, If this thou hast from me by treachery torn?

x.x.xI "Thou, with pretence, from me my state didst wrest Of our connection and of amity; And quickly of my land thy troops possest, To a.s.sure the rule unto thyself. Shall I Return to Flanders where I sold the rest, Though little, upon which I lived, to buy Thee needful succour and from prison bear?

Wretch, whither shall I go? -- I know not where.

x.x.xII "Can I to Friesland go, where I to reign As queen was called, and this for thee forewent; Where both my brethren and my sire were slain, And every other good from me was rent? -- Thee would I not, thou ingrate, with my pain Reproach, not therefore deal thee punishment: As well as I, the story dost thou know; Now, see the meed thou dost for this bestow!

x.x.xIII "Oh! may I but escape the wild corsair, Nor taken be, and after sold for slave!

Rather than this may lion, wolf, or bear, Tiger, or other beast, if fiercer rave, Me with his claws and rushes rend and tear, And drag my bleeding body to his cave."

So saying she her golden hair offends, And lock by lock the scattered tresses rends.

x.x.xIV She to the sh.o.r.e's extremest verge anew, Tossing her head, with hair dishevelled, run; And seemed like maid beside herself, and who Was by ten fiends possessed, instead of one; Of like the frantic Hecuba, at view Of murdered Polydore, her infant son; Fixed on a stone she gazed upon the sea, Nor less than real stone seemed stone to be.

x.x.xV But let her grieve till my return. To show Now of the Child I wish: his weary way Rogero, in the noon's intensest glow, Takes by the sh.o.r.e: the burning sunbeams play Upon the hill and thence rebound; below Boils the white sand; while heated with the ray, Little is wanting in that journey dire, But that the arms he wears are all on fire.

x.x.xVI While to the warrior thirst and labour sore, Still toiling through that heavy sand, as he Pursued his path along the sunny sh.o.r.e, Were irksome and displeasing company, Beneath the shadow of a turret h.o.a.r, Which rose beside the beach, amid the sea, He found three ladies of Alcina's court, As such distinguished by their dress and port.

x.x.xVII Reclined on Alexandrian carpets rare The ladies joyed the cool in great delight; About them various wines in vessels were, And every sort of comfit nicely dight; Fast by, and sporting with the ripple there, Lay, waiting on their needs, a pinnace light, Until a breeze should fill her sail anew: For then no breath upon the waters blew.

x.x.xVIII They, who beheld along the shifting sand Rogero wend, upon his way intent, And saw thirst figured on his lips, and scanned His troubled visage, all with sweat besprent, Began to pray, 'on what he had in hand He would not show his heart so deeply bent, But that he in the cool and grateful shade Would rest his weary limbs, beside them laid.'

x.x.xIX To hold the stirrup one approaching near, Would aid him to alight: the other bore A cup of chrystal to the cavalier, With foaming wine, which raised his thirst the more; But to the music of their speech no ear He lent, who weened if he his way forbore For anything, each lett would time supply To Alcina to arrive, who now was nigh.

XL Now so saltpetre fine and sulphur pure, Touched with the fiery spark, blaze suddenly; Not so loud ocean raves, when the obscure Whirlwind descends and camps in middle sea, As viewing thus the knight proceed secure Upon his journey, and aware that he Scorns them, who yet believe they beauteous are, Kindled the third of those three damsels fair.

XLI As loud as she could raise her voice, she said, "Thou art not gentle, nor art thou a knight; And hast from other arms and horse conveyed: Which never could be thine by better right.

So be thy theft, if well I guess, appaid By death, which this may worthily requite!

Foul thief, churl, haughty ingrate, may I thee Burned, gibbeted, or cut in quarters see!"

XLII Beside all these and more injurious cries, Which the proud damsel at the warrior throws, Though to her taunts Rogero nought replies, Who weens small fame from such a contest flows; She with her sisters to the frigate hies, Which waits them, and aboard the tender goes; And plying fast her oars, pursues the knight Along the sandy beach, still kept in sight.