l! but that she made
Never her care, or beauty only weighed
In worth with virtue; and her worth acquired
A deeper charm from blooming in the shade,
Lovers she shunned, nor loved to be admired,
But from their praises turned to live a life retired."

Equally applicable to Tasso is that of Olindo, the lover who--

"Feared much, hoped little, and in nought presumed.
He could not or he durst not speak, but doomed
To voiceless thought his passion."

But during those "livelong summer days" the poet's passion was not
utterly voiceless. The _Amyntas_ is throughout a continual and
unequivocal expression, and he daringly in the very prelude makes the
god of love, who explains the scheme of the play, declare--

"For wheresoe'er I am, there I am Love,
No less in shepherds' than in heroes' hearts,
The _unequal lot grows equal_ at my will,
My chiefest vaunt, my miracle is this."

Openly and repeatedly Tasso asserts that while he is not indifferent to
literary distinction it is not the chief end which he has in view in
writing the _Amyntas._

"Deem not" (he says) "that all Love's bliss
At last is but a breath
Of fame that followeth.

Love's meed is love, it wooeth, _winneth_ this.
Nathless the lover steadfast to his end
Hath laud ofttimes and maketh Fame his friend."

Goethe makes Tasso confide this double aim to Leonora and her reply
shows that he did indeed win the meed he sought. "For what" the poet
asks her "is more deserving to survive and silently to last for
centuries than the confession of a noble love, confided modestly to
gentle song?"

We follow step by step that wooing, finding it in the exquisite
apostrophe to the golden age--which concludes:

"Then let us live as erst kind Nature's thralls
And let us love--since hearts
No truce of time may know, and youth departs:
Ay! let us love: suns sink but sink to soar--
On us, our brief day o'er,
Night falls and sleep descends for evermore."

Here again Goethe discovers the personal note, transcribing the poem
unscrupulously from its setting in the _Amyntas_ and making Leonora
reply with didactic coldness to Tasso's appeal--

"_Tasso:_

The golden age, ah! whither is it flown,
For which in secret every heart repines?
When every bird winging the limpid air
And every living thing o'er hill and dale
Proclaimed to man, What pleases is allowe