These flowers, whose varied and shining beauty you so much admire, are the tears of Aurora. […] I laugh your power, and his who sent you here, To lowest scorn. […] Thus, do you bear me to my native isle? […] at last she hears him call, And she straight answers him, ‘where are you all?’ […] Again the mournful Echo answers, ‘I,’ ‘Why come not you,’ he said, ‘appear in view,’ She hastily returns, ‘why come not you?’