From Orlando Furioso by Ludovico Ariosto
 

From the outer gates stepped forth beauteous Alcina . . . so beautifully modeled, no painter, however much he applied himself, could have achieved anything more perfect . . . Snow white was her neck, milky her breast; her neck was round, her breast broad and full. A pair of apples, not yet ripe, fashioned in ivory, rose and fell like the sea-swell at times when a gentle breeze stirs the ocean. Argus [with his hundred eyes] himself could not see them entire, but you could easily judge that what lay hidden did not fall short of what was exposed to view . . .
     Little wonder that Ruggiero was ensnared, finding her, as he did, so entrancing. Little did it profit him to have been warned of her evil, treacherous nature -- it did not seem to him possible for deceit and perfidy to keep company with so charming a smile . . .
     Ruggiero was escorted to his downy bed in a little bedroom . . . [he] slipped between the perfumed sheets, which might well have been the handiwork of Arachne herself; he strained his ears to listen for the approach of lovely Alcina. At the slightest movement he heard, he would raise his head, hoping it was she; often he heard sounds when in fact there was nothing to hear -- and then he would realize his mistake and sigh. Now and then he would jump out of bed, open the door and look outside, but there was nothing to be seen. Endlessly he cursed weary time for moving so sluggishly. Often he would tell himself: "Now she has set out" -- and he would start counting the steps which must separate Alcina's room from the one where he awaited her. These and other vain fancies occupied him in the interval before she came, and frequently he feared lest some obstacle be placed between his hand and the fruit. Alcina all the while was steeping herself in precious perfumes; she put an end to these labors once all was at peace in the household and there was no need for further delay. Now she slipped out of her room and stole by a secret passage to where Ruggiero awaited her; in his heart all this time hope and fear fought many a round.
     [Ruggiero] looked up to see the joyful-twinkling suns of Alcina's eyes, he felt as though hot sulfur were coursing through his veins . . . He jumped out of bed and gathered her in his arms, quite unable to wait for her to undress -- for she was wearing neither gown nor petticoat: she had come in a light mantle which she had thrown over a white nightgown of gossamer texture. The mantle she abandoned to Ruggiero as he embraced her; this left only the insubstantial gossamer-gown which, before and behind, concealed no more than would a pane of glass placed before a spray of roses or lilies. Ivy never clung so tightly to the stem round which it was entwined as did the two lovers cling to each other, drawing from each other's lips pollen so fragrant that it will be found on no flower which grows in the scented Indian or Arabian sands. And I would describe their pleasure, but it would be more fit for them to do so, for they each often had a second tongue in their mouth.