“Non, ton père à Paris ne fut point boulanger,
Et tu n’es point du sang de Gervais, l’horloger;
Ta mère ne fut point la maîtresse d’une coche:
Caucase dans ses flancs te forma d’une roche,
Une tigresse affreuse en quelque antre ecarté,
Te fit sucer son lait avec sa cruauté.”
I do not think the circumstances in which Armida pours forth her reproaches are judiciously selected. The Ariadne of Catullus vents her complaints when her betrayer is beyond reach of hearing, and Dido, though in his presence, before he had taken his departure: But Armida runs after, and overtakes Rinaldo, in which there is something degrading. She expresses, however, more tenderness and amorous devotedness amid her revilings, than any of her predecessors—
“Struggi la fede nostra; anch’io t’affretto;
Che dico nostra? Ah non più mia: fedele
Sono a te solo, idolo mio crudele!”