'Raise your eyes, shepherds, and you will see who is the cause that has set my unfortunate wretch of a brother in so strange and desperate a plight.' The shepherds raised their eyes at what Maurisa said, and saw a graceful and comely shepherdess on a beetling rock that overhung the river, seated on the same crag, and watching with smiling countenance all that the shepherds were doing. She was straightway recognised by all as the cruel Gelasia. 'That loveless, that thankless girl, sirs,' went on Maurisa, 'is the mortal enemy of this my unhappy brother, who, as all these banks already know and you are not unaware, loves her, worships her and adores her; and in return for the ceaseless services he has always done her, and for the tears that he has shed for her, she this morning, with the most scornful and loveless disdain that could ever be found in cruelty, bade him go from her presence, and never return to her now or henceforth. And my brother wished to obey her so earnestly, that he sought to take away his life, to avoid the occasion of ever transgressing her bidding; and if these shepherds had not by chance come so quickly, the end of my happiness, and the end of my hapless brother's days would by now have come.' What Maurisa said set all those who listened to her in amazement, and they were more amazed when they saw that the cruel Gelasia, without moving from the spot where she was, and without taking account of all that company who had their eyes set on her, with a strange grace and spirited disdain, drew a small rebeck from her wallet, and stopping to tune it very leisurely, after a little while with a voice of great beauty began to sing in this wise: GELASIA. The pleasing herbs of the green shady mead, The cooling fountains, who will e'er forsake, And strive no more the fleet hare to o'ertake Or bristling wild-boar, following on with speed? Who will no more the friendly warblings heed Of the dear, simple birds within the brake? Who in the glowing noon-tide hour will make No more his couch within the woods at need, That he the fires may follow, and the fears, Jealousies, angers, rages, deaths, and pains, Of traitorous Love, that doth the world torment? Upon the fields are set my loving cares And have been, rose and jessamine my chains, Free was I born, on freedom am I bent.