2990And truly on my faith I am persuaded
A virgin-lady with these weeds is shaded.
I, moved to pity by her streaming tears,—
Her sighing gales, loud threnes, and sad laments,
Won by her beauty, and her tender years,
Have promised aid, confirmed by your assents,
And in all haste will tell her father's grace
What clouds of woe bemist Felice's face.
She promised me when as her freedom's sealed,
When she shall re-enjoy the glorious light,