At this Alinda smiled, and upon this they agreed, and presently gathered up all their jewels, which they trussed up[1] in a casket, and Rosalynde in all haste provided her of robes, and Alinda, from her royal weeds, put herself in more homelike attire. Thus fitted to the purpose, away go these two friends, having now changed their names, Alinda being called Aliena, and Rosalynde Ganymede. They travelled along the vineyards, and by many by-ways at last got to the forest side, where they travelled by the space of two or three days without seeing any creature, being often in danger of wild beasts, and pained with many passionate sorrows. Now the black ox[2] began to tread on their feet, and Alinda thought of her wonted royalty; but when she cast her eyes on her Rosalynde, she thought every danger a step to honor. Passing thus on along, about midday they came to a fountain, compassed with a grove of cypress trees, so cunningly and curiously planted, as if some goddess had entreated nature in that place to make her an arbor. By this fountain sat Aliena and her Ganymede, and forth they pulled such victuals as they had, and fed as merrily as if they had been in Paris with all the king's delicates, Aliena only grieving that they could not so much as meet with a shepherd to discourse them the way to some place where they might make their abode. At last Ganymede casting up his eye espied where on a tree was engraven certain verses; which as soon as he espied, he cried out: "Be of good cheer, mistress, I spy the figures of men; for here in these trees be engraven certain verses of shepherds, or some other swains that inhabit hereabout." [Footnote 1: packed.] [Footnote 2: ill-luck.] With that Aliena start up joyful to hear these news, and looked, where they found carved in the bark of a pine tree this passion: _Montanus's Passion_ Hadst thou been born whereas perpetual cold Makes Tanais hard, and mountains silver old; Had I complained unto a marble stone, Or to the floods bewrayed my bitter moan, I then could bear the burthen of my grief. But even the pride of countries at thy birth, Whilst heavens did smile, did new array the earth With flowers chief. Yet thou, the flower of beauty blessed born, Hast pretty looks, but all attired in scorn. Had I the power to weep sweet Mirrha's tears, Or by my plaints to pierce repining ears; Hadst thou the heart to smile at my complaint, To scorn the woes that doth my heart attaint, I then could bear the burthen of my grief: But not my tears, but truth with thee prevails, And seeming sour my sorrows thee assails: Yet small relief; For if thou wilt thou art of marble hard, And if thou please my suit shall soon be heard.