Chè sovente addivien che 'l saggio e 'l forte Fabbro a se stesso è di beata sorte. - Torquato Tasso

Love calls it folly, what so wisdom saith.

Now don't you know how woman is made?
She flees, and fleeing wants to be caught;
she denies, and denying wants to be carried off;
she fights, and fighting wishes to be vanquished.

Armida smiles to hear, but keeps her gaze
fixed on herself, love's labours to behold.
Her locks she braided and their wanton ways
in lovely order marshalled and controlled.
She wound the curls of her fine strands with sprays
of flowers, like enamel worked on gold,
and made the stranger rose join with her pale
breast's native lily, and composed her veil.