XLIV

O Dulcinea may be proud, That plump and lusty maid; For she alone hath had the power A tiger fierce to tame. And she for this shall famous be From Tagus to Jarama, From Manzanares to Genil, From Duero to Arlanza. Fain would I change with her, and give A petticoat to boot, The best and bravest that I have, All trimmed with gold galloon. O for to be the happy fair Thy mighty arms enfold, Or even sit beside thy bed And scratch thy dusty poll! I rave⁠—to favours such as these Unworthy to aspire; Thy feet to tickle were enough For one so mean as I. What caps, what slippers silver-laced, Would I on thee bestow! What damask breeches make for thee; What fine long holland cloaks! And I would give thee pearls that should As big as oak-galls show; So matchless big that each might well Be called the great “Alone.” Manchegan Nero, look not down From thy Tarpeian Rock Upon this burning heart, nor add The fuel of thy wrath. A virgin soft and young am I, Not yet fifteen years old; (I’m only three months past fourteen, I swear upon my soul). I hobble not nor do I limp, All blemish I’m without, And as I walk my lily locks Are trailing on the ground.