And as he fastened his on her fair eyes, His Bradamant he called to mind again.
Pity and love within his bosom rise At once, and ill he can from tears refrain:
And in soft tone he to the damsel cries, (When he has checked his flying courser's rein)
"O lady, worthy but that chain to wear, With which Love's faithful servants fettered are, XCVIII
"And most unworthy this or other ill, What wretch has had the cruelty to wound And gall those snowy hands with livid stain, Thus painfully with griding fetters bound?"
At this she cannot choose but show like grain, Of crimson spreading on an ivory ground;
Knowing those secret beauties are espied, Which, howsoever lovely, shame would hide;
