[Footnote 1: companion.]
After this, Montanus felt his passions so extreme, that he fell into this exclamation against the injustice of Love:
Hélas, tyran, plein de rigueur,
Modère un peu ta violence:
Que te sert si grande dépense?
C'est trop de flammes pour un coeur.
Épargnez en une étincelle,
Puis fais ton effort d'émouvoir,
La fière qui ne veut point voir,
En quel feu je brûle pour elle.
Exécute, Amour, ce dessein,
Et rabaisse un peu son audace:
Son coeur ne doit être de glace,
Bien qu'elle ait de neige le sein.
Montanus ended his sonnet with such a volley of sighs, and such a stream of tears, as might have moved any but Phoebe to have granted him favor. But she, measuring all his passions with a coy disdain, and triumphing in the poor shepherd's pathetical humors, smiling at his martyrdom as though love had been no malady, scornfully warbled out this sonnet:
Phoebe's Sonnet, a Reply to Montanus' Passion
Down a down,
Thus Phyllis sung,
By fancy once distressed;
Whoso by foolish love are stung
Are worthily oppressed.
And so sing I. With a down, down, &c.
When Love was first begot,
And by the mover's will
Did fall to human lot
His solace to fulfil,
Devoid of all deceit,
A chaste and holy fire
Did quicken man's conceit,
And women's breast inspire.
The gods that saw the good
That mortals did approve,
With kind and holy mood
Began to talk of Love.
Down a down,
Thus Phyllis sung
By fancy once distressed, &c.
But during this accord,
A wonder strange to hear,
Whilst Love in deed and word
Most faithful did appear,
False-semblance came in place,
By Jealousy attended,
And with a double face
Both love and fancy blended;
Which made the gods forsake,
And men from fancy fly,
And maidens scorn a make,[1]
Forsooth, and so will I.
Down a down,
Thus Phyllis sung,
By fancy once distressed;
Who so by foolish love are stung
Are worthily oppressed.
And so sing I.
With down a down, a down down, a down a.