Thankless Amaryllis fair, Who shall make thee tender prove, If the faith of my true love And the anguish of my care Do thee but to hardness move? Maiden, 'tis to thee well known That the love which is in me Leads to this extremity: Save my faith in God alone _Naught is faith but faith in thee_. But although I go so high In love for a mortal thing, Such bliss to my woe doth cling That the soul I raise thereby To the land whence it doth spring; Thus this truth I know full well That my love remains in me In life, in death, ceaselessly, And, if faith in love doth dwell, _Naught is faith but faith in thee_. All the years that I have passed In my services of love, My soul's sacrifices prove All the cares that hold me fast And the faith that doth me move; Wherefore for the ill I bear I will ask no remedy, Should I ask it willingly, 'Tis because, my lady fair, _Naught is faith but faith in thee_. In my soul's tempestuous ocean Peace and calm I ne'er have found, And my faith is never crowned With that hope and glad emotion Whereon faith itself doth ground; Love and fortune I deplore Yet revenge is not for me, For they bring felicity In that, though I hope no more, _Naught is faith but faith in thee_. Damon's song fully confirmed in Timbrio and in Silerio the good opinion they had formed of the rare wit of the shepherds who were there; and the more when, at the persuasion of Thyrsis and of Elicio, the now free and disdainful Lauso, to the sound of Arsindo's flute, released his voice in verses such as these: LAUSO. Fickle Love, disdain thy chains Broke, and to my memory Hath restored the liberty Born from absence of thy pains; Let him, whoso would, accuse My faith as capricious, weak, And as best he thinketh, seek To convert me to his views. I my love did soon forsake, He may say, my faith was hung By a hair so finely strung That it e'en a breath could break; All the plaints Love did provoke, All my sighs, did feignèd prove, Nay the very shafts of Love Did not pierce beneath my cloke.