Yet, strangely, them this passion overmasters,
[400]That neither they could ask, nor he could show it;
As though an Incubus with vap'rous throngs
Enclasped their bosoms and unvoiced their tongues.
At length Don Fuco cried, 'Bellama cruel,
What evil planet revelled at thy birth,
Or what incensèd god provided fuel
To make me feel hell's torture upon earth?
Was there no way to punish me for sin
But by a maid? No, there our woes begin.