Chrysanthus (to Daria). 
If my boldness so may dare it,
I desire to ask, senora,
If thou art this heaven’s Aurora,
If the goddess of this fountain,
If the Juno of this mountain,
If of these bright flowers the Flora,
So that I may rightly know
In what style should speak to thee
My hushed voice . . . but pardon me
Now I would not thou said’st so. 
Looking at thee now, the glow
Of thy beauty so excelleth,
Every charm so plainly telleth
Thou Diana’s self must be;
Yes, Diana’s self is she,
Who within her grove here dwelleth.

Daria. 
If, before you spoke to me,
You desired my name to know,
I in your case act not so,
Since I speak, whoe’er you be,
Forced, but most unwillingly
(As to listening heaven is plain)
To reply:—­a bootless task
Were it in me, indeed, to ask,
Since, whoe’er you be, my strain
Must be one of proud disdain. 
So I pray you, cavalier,
Leave me in this lonely wood,
Leave me in the solitude
I enjoyed ere you came here.

Chrysanthus. 
Sweetly, but with tone severe,
Thus my error you reprove—­
That of asking in this grove
What your name is:  you ’re so fair,
That, whatever name you bear,
I must tell you of my love.

Daria. 
Love! a word to me unknown,
Sounds so strangely in my ears,
That my heart nor feels nor hears
Aught of it when it has flown.

Chrysanthus. 
Then there is no rashness shown
In repeating it once more,
Since to hear or to ignore
Suits alike your stoic coldness.

Daria. 
Yes, the speech, but not the boldness
Of the speaker I pass o’er,
For this word, whate’er it be,
When it breaks upon my ear,
Quick ’t is gone, although I hear.

Chrysanthus. 
You forget it?

Daria. 
                Instantly.

Chrysanthus. 
What! love’s sweetest word! ah, me! 
Canst forget the mightiest ray
Death can dart, or heaven display?

Daria. 
Yes, for lightning, entering where
Naught resists, is lost in air.

Chrysanthus. 
How? what way?

Daria. 
                Well, in this way: 
If two doors in one straight line
Open lie, and lightning falls,
Then the bolt between the walls
Passes through, and leaves no sign. 
So ’t is with this word of thine;
Though love be, which I do n’t doubt,
Like heaven’s bolt that darts about,
Still two opposite doors I ’ve here,
And what enters by one ear
By the other ear goes out.

Chrysanthus. 
If this lightning then darts through
Where no door lies open wide
To let it pass at the other side,
Must not fire and flame ensue? 
This being so, ’t is also true
That the fire of love that flies
Into my heart, in flames must rise,
Since without its feast of fire
The fatal flash cannot retire,
That has entered by the eyes.