All the shepherds replied together that it would be a great joy to them to hear him. And straightway Marsilio, moved by the desire he had to listen to him, played his pipe, to the sound of which Lauso began to sing in this wise: LAUSO. Unto the ground I sink on bended knee, My suppliant hands clasped humbly, and my breast Filled with a righteous and a loving zeal; Holy disdain, I worship thee; in thee Are summed the causes of the dainty feast Which I in calm and ease enjoy full well; For, of the rigour of the poison fell Which Love's ill doth contain, Thou wert the certain and the speedy cure, Turning my ruin sure To good, my war to healthy peace again. Wherefore not once, but times beyond all measure, I do adore thee as my kindliest treasure. Through thee the light of these my wearied eyes, Which was so long troubled and even lost, Hath turned again to what it was before; Through thee again I glory in the prize Which from my will and life at bitter cost Love's ancient tyranny in triumph bore. 'Twas thou that didst my error's night restore To bright unclouded day, 'Twas thou that ledd'st the reason, which of old Foul slavery did hold, Into a peaceful and a wiser way; Reason, now mistress, guideth me to where Eternal bliss doth show and shine more clear. From thee I learned, disdain, how treacherous, How false and feigned had been those signs of love, Which the fair maid did to my eyes display, And how those words and whispers amorous, That charmed the ear so much, and caused to rove The soul, leading it from itself astray, Were framed in falsehood and in mockery gay; How the glance of those eyes, So sweet and tender, did but seek my doom, That unto winter's gloom Might be transformed my springtime's sunny skies, What time I should be clearly undeceived; But, sweet disdain, thou hast the wound relieved. Disdain, disdain, ever the sharpest goad That urges on the fancy to pursue After the loving, long-desirèd need, In me changed is thy practice and thy mood, For, by thee led, the purpose I eschew Which once I followed hard with unseen speed; And, though Love, ill-contented with my deed, Doth never, never, rest, But spreads the noose to seize me as before, And, to wound me the more, Aimeth a thousand shafts against my breast, 'Tis thou, disdain, alone that art my friend, Thou canst his arrows break, his meshes rend.