these cool banks, and all this while I have learnt no tidings of what I desire; and may it please God that when I learn them, it may not be the worst I forebode. Here you see, discreet maidens, the mournful issue of my life of love. I have now told you who I am and what I seek; if you have any tidings of my happiness, may fortune grant you the greatest you desire, so that you do not withhold it from me.' With such tears did the loving shepherdess accompany the words she uttered, that he would have had a heart of steel who had not grieved at them. Galatea and Florisa, who were naturally of a pitying disposition, could not hold theirs back, nor yet did they fail to comfort her with the most soothing and helpful words in their power, counselling her to remain some days in their company; that perhaps her fortune would in the meantime cause her to learn some tidings of Artidoro, since Heaven would not allow a shepherd so discreet as she depicted him by reason of so strange an error to end the course of his youthful years; that it might be that Artidoro, his thought having in course of time returned to better course and purpose, might return to see the native land he longed for and his sweet friends; and that she might, therefore, hope to find him there better than elsewhere. The shepherdess, somewhat consoled by these and other reasonings, was pleased to remain with them, thanking them for the favour they did her, and for the desire they showed to secure her happiness. At this moment the serene night, urging on her starry car through the sky, gave token that the new day was approaching; and the shepherdesses, in desire and need of rest, arose and repaired from the cool garden to their dwellings. But scarce had the bright sun with his warm rays scattered and consumed the dense mist, which on cool mornings is wont to spread through the air, when the three shepherdesses, leaving their lazy couches, returned to the wonted pursuit of grazing their flock, Galatea and Florisa with thoughts far different from that cherished by the fair Teolinda, who went her way so sad and thoughtful that it was a marvel. And for this reason, Galatea, to see if she might in some way distract her, begged her to lay aside her melancholy for a while, and be so good as to sing some verses to the sound of Florisa's pipe. To this Teolinda replied: 'If I thought that the great cause I have for weeping, despite the slight cause I have for singing, would be diminished in any way, you might well forgive me, fair Galatea, for not doing what you bid me; but as I already know by experience that what my tongue utters in song, my heart confirms with weeping, I will do what you wish, since thereby I shall satisfy your desire without going contrary to mine.' And straightway the shepherdess Florisa played her pipe, to the sound of which Teolinda sang this sonnet: