As the agreeable music approached, they observed that it attended a stately triumphal car, drawn by six gray mules covered with white linen, and upon each of them rode a penitent of light, clothed also in white, and holding a lighted torch in his hand. The car was more than double the size of the others which had passed, and twelve penitents were ranged in order within it, all carrying lighted torches,—a sight which at once caused surprise and terror. Upon an elevated throne sat a nymph, covered with a thousand veils of silver tissue, bespangled with innumerable flowers of gold, so that her dress, if not rich, was gay and glittering. Over her head was thrown a transparent gauze, so thin that through its folds might be seen a most beautiful face; and from the multitude of lights, it was easy to discern that she was young as well as beautiful, for she was evidently under twenty years of age, though not less than seventeen. Close by her sat a figure, clad in a magnificent robe reaching to the feet, having his head covered with a black veil.
The moment this vast machine arrived opposite to where the duke and duchess and Don Quixote stood, the attending music ceased, as well as the harps and lutes within the car. The figure in the gown then stood up, and throwing open the robe and uncovering his face; displayed the ghastly countenance of death, looking so terrific that Don Quixote started, Sancho was struck with terror, and even the duke and duchess seemed to betray some symptoms of fear. This living Death, standing erect, in a dull and drowsy tone and with a sleepy articulation, spoke as follows:—
the enchanter's errand.
Merlin I am, miscalled the devil's son In lying annals, authorized by time; Monarch supreme, and great depositary Of magic art and Zoroastic skill; Rival of envious ages, that would hide The glorious deeds of errant cavaliers, Favored by me and my peculiar charge. Though vile enchanters, still on mischief bent, To plague mankind their baleful art employ, Merlin's soft nature, ever prone to good, His power inclines to bless the human race.
In Hades' chambers, where my busied ghost Was forming spells and mystic characters, Dulcinea's voice, peerless Tobosan maid, With mournful accents reached my pitying ears; I knew her woe, her metamorphosed form, From high-born beauty in a palace graced, To the loathed features of a cottage wench. With sympathizing grief I straight revolved The numerous tomes of my detested art, And in the hollow of this skeleton My soul enclosing, hither am I come, To tell the cure of such uncommon ills.
O glory thou of all that case their limbs In polished steel and fenceful adamant! Light, beacon, polar star, and glorious guide Of all who, starting from the lazy down, Banish ignoble sleep for the rude toil And hardy exercise of errant arms! Spain's boasted pride, La Mancha's matchless knight, Whose valiant deeds outstrip pursuing fame! Wouldst thou to beauty's pristine state restore The enchanted dame, Sancho, thy faithful squire, Must to his brawny buttocks, bare exposed, Three thousand and three hundred stripes apply, Such as may sting and give him smarting pain: The authors of her change have thus decreed, And this is Merlin's errand from the shades.
the parley about the penance.
"What!" quoth Sancho, "three thousand lashes! Odd's-flesh! I will as soon give myself three stabs as three single lashes, much less three thousand! The devil take this way of disenchanting! I cannot see what my buttocks have to do with enchantments. Before Heaven! if Signor Merlin can find out no other way to disenchant the lady Dulcinea del Toboso, enchanted she may go to her grave for me!"