We might well call by that name this abode, where the hours flew by,
without account, in ever-new delights. The bare idea of satiety, want,
and, above all, of age, never entered the minds of the inhabitants.
They experienced no sensations except those of luxury and gayety; the
cup of happiness seemed for them ever-flowing and exhaustless. The two
young damsels to whom Rogero owed his deliverance from the hobgoblins
conducted him to the apartment of their mistress. The beautiful Alcina
advanced, and greeted him with an air at once dignified and courteous.
All her court surrounded the paladin, and rendered him the most
flattering attentions. The castle was less admirable for its
magnificence than for the charms of those who inhabited it. They were
of either sex, well matched in beauty, youth, and grace; but among this
charming group the brilliant Alcina shone, as the sun outshines the
stars. The young warrior was fascinated. All that he had heard from the
myrtle-tree appeared to him but a vile calumny. How could he suspect
that falsehood and treason veiled themselves under smiles and the
ingenuous air of truth? He doubted not that Astolpho had deserved his
fate, and perhaps a punishment more severe; he regarded all his stories
as dictated by a disappointed spirit, and a thirst for revenge. But we
must not condemn Rogero too harshly, for he was the victim of magic
power.
They seated themselves at table, and immediately harmonious lyres and
harps waked the air with the most ravishing notes. The charms of poetry
were added in entertaining recitals; the magnificence of the feast
would have done credit to a royal board. The traitress forgot nothing
which might charm the paladin, and attach him to the spot, meaning,
when she should grow tired of him, to metamorphose him as she had done
others. In the same manner passed each succeeding day. Games of
pleasant exercise, the chase, the dance, or rural sports, made the
hours pass quickly; while they gave zest to the refreshment of the
bath, or sleep.
Thus Rogero led a life of ease and luxury, while Charlemagne and
Agramant were struggling for empire. But I cannot linger with him while
the amiable and courageous Bradamante is night and day directing her
uncertain steps to every spot where the slightest chance invites her,
in the hope of recovering Rogero.
I will therefore say that, having sought him in vain in fields and in
cities, she knew not whither next to direct her steps. She did not
apprehend the death of Rogero. The fall of such a hero would have
reechoed from the Hydaspes to the farthest river of the West; but, not
knowing whether he was on the earth or in the air, she concluded, as a
last resource, to return to the cavern which contained the tomb of
Merlin, to ask of him some sure direction to the object of her search.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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