RINALDO AND ARMIDA. TO A LADY SINGING. Sir James Marriott Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T116245 1135 K093079.002 Pearch, G. A collection of poems in four volumes. By several hands. Vol. II. [The second edition]. London printed for G. Pearch 1770 pp. 307-308. 4v. ; 8⁰.

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RINALDO AND ARMIDA . TO A LADY SINGING . BY THE SAME . THE goldfinch swells his little throat , And loudly pours his rural note ; High poiz'd above his nest in air , The shrill lark chaunts his matins clear ; At evening brown , in woodland dale Soft gurgling trills her amorous tale The solitary nightingale ; But what avails , ye feather'd throng Of warblers wild , your feeble song ? Our varying passions can ye move With warmer hope , or fonder love ? Or run your notes th' enchanting round Through all the labyrinths of sound ? As breathes some soft angelic strain , When Midnight spreads her solemn reign , Entranc'd the lonely hermit lies , And tastes ideal paradise , When at Armida's feet he lay , So sigh'd Rinaldo's soul away ; His tongue in mute attention bound , His ear in rapture drank the sound , While magic numbers lull'd the sense , And held swift thought in sweet suspence . The mimic voice repeat the gales That sigh along the flowery vales ; The flowery vales , the falling floods , The rising rocks , and waving woods To the sighing gales reply , Redoubling all the harmony . The Zephyrs , ever mild and fair , Who lightly fan the vernal air , Learn from Armida's voice the strain , And whispering tell it to the main . Whene'er , the foaming billows flowing , The wintry storms are fiercely blowing , When sable clouds invade the pole , And lightnings dart , and thunders roll , Th' enchantress can the rage appease , And clear the skies , and smooth the seas . When hurried to th' infernal coast , His beauteous bride the Thracian lost , Sure , hapless youth ! so sweet a spell Once more had charm'd the powers of hell ; Or if such had been the song Which warbled erst the syren throng , For councils sage the chief renown'd His warrior limbs had vainly bound ; His eyes by love entranc'd , no more Had seen with joy their native shore ; The cords had loos'd ; the magic tale Had stay'd his oars , and furl'd his sail .