And a didactic poem by Luigi Alamanni (born 1495), called _Husbandry_, has: 'O blessed is he who dwells in peace, the actual tiller of his joyous fields, to whom, in his remoteness, the most righteous earth brings food, and secure in well-being, he rejoices in his heart. If thou art not surrounded by society rich with purple and gems, nor with houses adorned with costly woods, statues, and gold;... at least, secure in the humble dwelling of wood from the copse hard by, and common stones collected close at hand, which thine own hand has founded and built, whenever thou awakenest at the approach of dawn, thou dost not find outside those who bring news of a thousand events contrary to thy desires.... Thou wanderest at will, now quickly, now slowly, across the green meadow, through the wood, over the grassy hill, or by the stream. Now here, now there ... thou handlest the hatchet, axe, scythe, or hoe.... To enjoy in sober comfort at almost all seasons, with thy dear children, the fruits of thine own tree, the tree planted by thyself, this brings a sweetness sweet beyond all others.' These didactic writings, inspired by Virgilian Georgics, show a distinct preference for the idyllic. Sannazaro's _Arcadia_ went through sixty editions in the sixteenth century alone. Tasso reckoned with the prevalent taste of his day in _Aminta_, which improved the then method of dramatizing a romantic idyll. The whole poem bears the stamp of an idealizing and romantic imagination, and embodies in lyric form his sentimental idea of the Golden Age and an ideal world of Nature. Even down to its details _Aminta_ recalls the pastorals of Longos; and Daphne's words (Act I. Scene 1) suggest the most feeling outpourings of Kallimachos and Nonnos: And callest thou sweet spring-time The time of rage and enmity, Which breathing now and smiling, Reminds the whole creation, The animal, the human, Of loving! Dost thou see not How all things are enamoured Of this enamourer, rich with joy and health? Observe that turtle-dove, How, toying with his dulcet murmuring, He kisses his companion. Hear that nightingale Who goes from bough to bough Singing with his loud heart, 'I love!' 'I love!'... The very trees Are loving. See with what affection there, And in how many a clinging turn and twine, The vine holds fast its husband. Fir loves fir, The pine the pine, and ash and willow and beech Each towards the other yearns, and sighs and trembles. That oak tree which appears So rustic and so rough, Even that has something warm in its sound heart; And hadst thou but a spirit and sense of love, Thou hadst found out a meaning for its whispers. Now tell me, would thou be Less than the very plants and have no love? One seems to hear Sakuntala and her friends talking, or Akontios complaining. So, too, when the unhappy lover laments (Aminta):