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,
Stops short the bubbling wave, which boiled before;
So was the raging fire Olympia blew
Within his breast, extinguished by a new.
XIII.
Nor feels Bireno mere satiety;
He loaths her so, he ill endures her sight;
And, if his hope be long deferred, will die:
For other such his fickle appetite!
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.
