shepherdess? The cruel way in which she had left him afflicted him so deeply that he had not the power to follow her. Before he could join her he had swooned, and he remained a long time insensible at the foot of the tree where Brilliante saw him fall. At length the coolness of the ground, or some unknown power, brought him to himself: he did not dare to seek her that day at her own home, and revolving in his mind the words she had said to him,
"Were my absence caused by hate,
Would my anguish be as great?"
He drew from them more flattering hopes, and trusted time and attention might win for him a little gratitude. But what were his feelings when, on going next day to the old shepherdess with whom Brilliante lodged, he heard that she had never been seen since the previous evening! He was ready to die with anxiety. He wandered away overwhelmed by a thousand conflicting thoughts. He seated himself sadly by the side of the river; he was tempted a hundred times to fling himself into it, and to end his misfortunes with his life. At length he took a bodkin, and scratched the following verses on the bark of a nettle-tree:[1]—
"Lovely fountain, river clear,
Smiling valley, fertile plain,
Scenes erewhile to me so dear,
Alas, ye but increase my pain!
The beauteous maid for whom I burn,
To whom your every charm ye owe,
Has left ye, never to return,
And me to weep for ever mo!
When Morning in the East appears,
She brings my spirit no relief;
No sun can dry my ceaseless tears,
No night in slumber lull my grief.
Forgive me, O thou gentle tree,
That on thy breast her name I grave;
How slight the wound to that which she,
The cruel one, my bosom gave!
My steel thy life untouch'd hath left—
Her cipher makes thee seem more fair;
But of his darling's sight bereft,
For death alone sighs poor Sans-pair."
He could not write any more, being accosted by a little old woman, who had a ruff round her neck, and wore a farthingale, a roll under her white hair, and a velvet hood. Her ancient appearance had something venerable in it. "My son," said she to him, "your lamentations are very grievous.
- ↑ Alisier, vide note, p. 28.
