'What will you say,' Teolinda then replied, 'when you see all this surpassed by the excellence of their poetry, which is of such a kind that for the one it has already gained the epithet of divine, and for the other that of superhuman?' The shepherdesses, whilst engaged in this discourse, saw, on the slope of the vale along which they themselves were going, two shepherds appear, of gallant bearing and abounding spirit, one a little older than the other; so well dressed, though in shepherd's garb, that in their carriage and appearance they seemed more like brave courtiers than mountain herdsmen. Each wore a well-cut garment of finest white wool, trimmed with tawny red and grey, colours which their shepherdesses fancied most. Each had hanging from his shoulder a wallet no less handsome and adorned than the garments. They came crowned with green laurel and cool ivy, with their twisted crooks placed under their arms. They brought no companion, and came so rapt in their music that they were for a long while without seeing the fixed shepherdesses, who were wending their way along the same slope, wondering not a little at the gentle grace and charm of the shepherds, who, with voices attuned to the same chant, one beginning and the other replying, sang this which follows: DAMON. THYRSIS. DAMON. Thyrsis, who dost in loneliness depart With steps emboldened, though against thy will, From yonder light wherewith remains thine heart, Why dost thou not the air with mourning fill? So great indeed thy cause is to complain Of the fierce troubler of thy life so still. THYRSIS. Damon, once let the life be rent in twain, If the grief-stricken body go away, And yet the higher half behind remain, What virtue or what being will essay My tongue to move, already counted dead? For where my soul was, there my life doth stay. I see, I hear, I feel, 'tis truth indeed, And yet I am a phantom formed by love, My only stay is hope that hath not fled.