Where hope diminisheth and faith doth grow,
There one can see and know the lofty aims
That loyal love proclaims; for he whose thought
Hath confidence but sought in love so pure,
Of a reward secure and certain is,
Which shall with truest bliss his soul delight.
ERASTRO.
The wretched suffering wight, whom illness swayeth
And with cruel anguish slayeth, is contented,
When he is most tormented by his grief,
With any small relief, though soon 'tis gone:
But when more dull hath grown at last the pain,
He calls on health, and fain would have it sound.
Not otherwise is found the tender breast
Of the lover oppressed with grievous sadness,
Who says his pain doth gladness find herein,
In that the light serene of the fair eyes
To which as spoil and prize he gave his days,
Should on him truly gaze or feignedly;
Soon as love sets him free and makes him strong,
He seeks with clamorous tongue more than before.
ELICIO.
Now the fair sun sinks o'er the hill to rest,
The growing gloom doth, best of friends, invite
Us to repose, the night is drawing nigh.
ERASTRO.
The village draweth nigh, for rest I long.
ELICIO.
Let us put silence to our wonted song.
Those who were listening to Elicio and Erastro would have held it a good thing that the way should be prolonged in order to enjoy more the agreeable song of the love-sick shepherds; but the closing-in of night and their coming to the village caused them to cease from it, and Aurelio, Galatea, Rosaura, and Florisa to betake themselves to their house. Elicio and Erastro likewise went to theirs, with the intention of going forthwith to where Thyrsis and Damon and the other shepherds were, for so it was agreed between them and Galatea's father. They were only waiting until the white moon should banish the darkness of the night; and as soon as she showed her fair face, they went to seek Aurelio, and all together made their way towards the hermitage, where there happened to them what will be seen in the following book.