BOOK VI.

Scarce had the rays of golden Phoebus begun to break through the

lowest line of our horizon, when the aged and venerable Telesio made

the piteous sound of his horn come to the ears of all that were in

the village--a signal which moved those who heard it to leave the

repose of their pastoral couches, and hasten to do what Telesio bade.

But the first who led the way in this were Elicio, Aurelio, Daranio,

and all the shepherds and shepherdesses who were with them, the fair

Nisida and Blanca, and the happy Timbrio and Silerio not being absent,

with a number of other gallant shepherds and beauteous shepherdesses,

who joined them, and might reach the number of thirty. Amongst them

went the peerless Galatea, new miracle of beauty, and the lately-wed

Silveria, who brought with her the fair and haughty Belisa, for whom

the shepherd Marsilio suffered such loving and mortal pangs. Belisa

had come to visit Silveria, and to congratulate her on her newly

attained estate, and she wished likewise to be present at obsequies

so celebrated as she hoped those would be that shepherds so great

and so famous were celebrating. All then came out together from the

village, outside which they found Telesio, with many other shepherds

accompanying him, all clad and adorned in such wise that they clearly

showed that they had come together for a sad and mournful business.

Straightway Telesio ordained, so that the solemn sacrifices might

that day be performed with purer intent and thoughts more calm, that

all the shepherds should come together on their side, and apart from

the shepherdesses, and that the latter should do the same: whereat

the smaller number were content, and the majority not very satisfied,

especially the fond Marsilio, who had already seen the loveless Belisa,

at sight of whom he was so beside himself and so rapt, as his friends

Orompo, Crisio, and Orfenio clearly perceived, and when they saw him in

such a state, they went up to him, and Orompo said to him:

'Take courage, friend Marsilio, take courage, and do not by your

faint-heartedness cause the small spirit of your breast to be revealed.

What if Heaven, moved to compassion of your pain, has at such a time

brought the shepherdess Belisa to these banks that you may heal it?'

'Nay rather the better to end me, as I believe,' replied Marsilio,

'will she have come to this place, for this and more must needs be

feared from my fortune; but I will do, Orompo, what you bid, if by

chance in this hard plight reason has more power with me than my

feelings.'

And therewith Marsilio became again somewhat more calm, and straightway

the shepherds on one side, and the shepherdesses on another, as

was ordained by Telesio, began to make their way to the valley of

cypresses, all preserving a wondrous silence; until Timbrio, astonished

to see the coolness and beauty of the clear Tagus by which he was

going, turned to Elicio who was coming at his side, and said to him:

'The incomparable beauty of these cool banks, Elicio, causes me no

small wonder; and not without reason, for when one has seen as I have

the spacious banks of the renowned Betis, and those that deck and adorn

the famous Ebro, and the well-known Pisuerga, and when one in foreign

lands has walked by the banks of the holy Tiber, and the pleasing banks

of the Po, made noted by the fall of the rash youth, and has not failed

to go round the cool spots of the peaceful Sebeto, it must needs have

been a great cause that should move me to wonder at seeing any others.'

'You do not go so far out of the way in what you say, as I believe,

discreet Timbrio,' answered Elicio, 'as not to see with your eyes how

right you are to say it; for without doubt you can believe that the

pleasantness and coolness of the banks of this river excel, as is well

known and recognised, all those you have named, though there should

enter among them those of the distant Xanthus, and of the renowned

Amphrysus, and of the loving Alpheus. For experience holds and has

made certain, that almost in a straight line above the greater part of

these banks appears a sky bright and shining, which with a wide sweep

and with living splendour seems to invite to joy and gladness the heart

that is most estranged from it; and if it is true that the stars and

the sun are sustained, as some say, by the waters here below, I firmly

believe that those of this river are in a large measure the cause that

produces the beauty of the sky that covers it, or I shall believe that

God, for the same reason that they say He dwells in Heaven, makes here

His sojourn for the most part. The earth that embraces it, clad with

a thousand green adornments, seems to make festival and to rejoice at

possessing in itself a gift so rare and pleasing, and the golden river

as though in exchange, sweetly interweaving itself in its embraces,

fashions, as if with intent, a thousand windings in and out, which

fill the soul of all who behold them with wondrous pleasure; whence

it arises that, though the eyes turn again to behold it many a time,

they do not therefore fail to find in it things to cause them new

pleasure and new wonder. Turn your eyes then, valiant Timbrio, and

see how much its banks are adorned by the many villages and wealthy

farmhouses, which are seen built along them. Here in every season of

the year is seen the smiling spring in company with fair Venus, her

garments girded up and full of love, and Zephyrus accompanying her,

with his mother Flora in front, scattering with bounteous hand divers

fragrant flowers; and the skill of its inhabitants has wrought so much

that nature, incorporated with art, is become an artist and art's

equal, and from both together has been formed a third nature to which

I cannot give a name. Of its cultivated gardens, compared with which

the gardens of the Hesperides and of Alcinous, may keep silence, of

the dense woods, of the peaceful olives, green laurels, and rounded

myrtles, of its abundant pastures, joyous valleys, and covered hills,

streamlets and springs which are found on this bank, do not expect me

to say more, save that, if in any part of the earth the Elysian fields

have a place, it is without doubt here. What shall I say of the skilful

working of the lofty wheels, by the ceaseless motion of which men draw

the waters from the deep river, and copiously irrigate the fields which

are distant a long way? Let there be added to this that on these banks

are nurtured the fairest and most discreet shepherdesses that can be

found in the circle of the earth; as a proof of which, leaving aside

that which experience shows us, and what you, Timbrio, do, since you

have been on them and have seen, it will suffice to take as an example

that shepherdess whom you see there, oh Timbrio.'

And, saying this, he pointed with his crook to Galatea; and without

saying more, left Timbrio wondering to see the discretion and words

with which he had praised the banks of the Tagus and Galatea's beauty.

And he replied to him that nothing of what was said could be gainsaid,

and in these and other things they beguiled the tedium of the road,

until, coming in sight of the valley of cypresses, they saw issuing

from it almost as many shepherds and shepherdesses as those who were

with them. All joined together and with peaceful steps began to enter

the sacred valley, the situation of which was so strange and wondrous

that even in the very ones who had seen it many a time, it caused new

admiration and pleasure. On one portion of the bank of the famous Tagus

there rise in four different and opposite quarters four green and

peaceful hills, walls and defenders as it were of a fair valley which

they contain in their midst, and entrance into it is granted by four

other spots. These same hills close together in such a way that they

come to form four broad and peaceful roads, walled in on all sides by

countless lofty cypresses, set in such order and harmony that even the

very branches of each seem to grow uniformly, and none dares in the

slightest to exceed or go beyond another. The space there is between

cypress and cypress is closed and occupied by a thousand fragrant

rose-bushes and pleasing jessamine, so close and interwoven as thorny

brambles and prickly briars are wont to be in the hedges of guarded

vineyards. From point to point of these peaceful openings are seen

running through the short green grass clear cool streamlets of pure

sweet waters, which have their birth on the slopes of the same hills.

The goal and end of these roads is a wide round space formed by the

declivities and cypresses, in the midst of which is placed a fountain

of cunning workmanship, built of white and costly marble, made with

such skill and cunning that the beauteous fountains of renowned Tibur,

and the proud ones of ancient Trinacria cannot be compared to it.

With the water of this wondrous fountain are moistened and sustained

the cool grasses of the delightful spot, and what makes this pleasing

situation the more worthy of esteem and reverence is that it is exempt

from the greedy mouths of simple lambs and gentle sheep, and from any

other kind of flock; for it serves alone as guardian and treasure-house

of the honoured bones of any famous shepherds, who, by the general

decree of all the survivors in the neighbourhood are determined and

ordained to be worthy and deserving of receiving burial in this famous

valley. Therefore there were seen between the many different trees that

were behind the cypresses, in the space and expanse there was from

them to the slopes of the hills, some tombs, made one of jasper and

another of marble, on the white stones of which one read the names of

those who were buried in them. But the tomb which shone most above all,

and that which showed itself most to the eyes of all, was that of the

famous shepherd Meliso, which, apart from the others, was seen on one

side of the broad space, made of smooth black slates and of white and

well-fashioned alabaster. And at the very moment the eyes of Telesio

beheld it, he turned his face to all that pleasing company, and said to

them with peaceful voice and piteous tones:

'There you see, gallant shepherds, discreet and fair shepherdesses,

there you see, I say, the sad tomb wherein repose the honoured bones of

the renowned Meliso, honour and glory of our banks. Begin then to raise

to Heaven your humble hearts, and with pure purpose, copious tears and

deep sighs, intone your holy hymns and devout prayers, and ask Heaven

to consent to receive in its starry abode the blessed soul of the body

that lies there.'

As he said this, he went up to one of the cypresses, and cutting some

branches, he made from them a mournful garland wherewith he crowned

his white and venerable brow, beckoning to the others to do the same.

All, moved by his example, in one moment crowned themselves with the

sad branches, and guided by Telesio, went up to the tomb, where the

first thing Telesio did was to bend the knee and kiss the hard stone of

the tomb. All did the same, and some there were who, made tender by

the memory of Meliso, left the white marble they were kissing bedewed

with tears. This being done, Telesio bade the sacred fire be kindled,

and in a moment around the tomb were made many, though small, bonfires,

in which only branches of cypress were burned; and the venerable

Telesio began with solemn and peaceful steps to circle the pyre, and

to cast into all the glowing fires a quantity of sacred sweet-smelling

incense, uttering each time he scattered it, some short and devout

prayer for the departed soul of Meliso, at the end of which he would

raise his trembling voice, all the bystanders with sad and piteous

tone replying thrice 'Amen, amen,' to the mournful sound of which the

neighbouring hills and distant valleys re-echoed, and the branches of

the tall cypresses and of the many other trees of which the valley was

full, stricken by a gentle breeze that blew, made and formed a dull

and saddest whisper, almost as if in token that they for their part

shared the sadness of the funereal sacrifice. Thrice Telesio circled

the tomb, and thrice he uttered the piteous prayers, and nine times

more were heard the mournful tones of the amen which the shepherds

repeated. This ceremony ended, the aged Telesio leaned against a lofty

cypress which rose at the head of Meliso's tomb, and by turning his

face on every side caused the bystanders to attend to what he wished

to say, and straightway raising his voice as much as the great number

of his years could allow, with marvellous eloquence he began to praise

Meliso's virtues, the integrity of his blameless life, the loftiness

of his intellect, the constancy of his soul, the graceful gravity of

his discourse, and the excellence of his poetry, and above all the

solicitude of his breast to keep and fulfil the holy religion he had

professed, joining to these other virtues of Meliso of such a kind and

so great that, though the shepherd had not been well known by all who

were listening to Telesio, merely by what he was saying, they would

have been inspired to love him, if he had been alive, and to reverence

him after death. The old man then ended his discourse saying:

'If the lowliness of my dull understanding, famous shepherds, were to

attain to where Meliso's excellences attained, and to where attains

the desire I have to praise them, and if the weak and scanty strength

begotten by many weary years did not cut short my voice and breath,

sooner would you see this sun that illumines us bathing once and again

in the mighty ocean, than I should cease from my discourse begun; but

since in my withered age this is not allowed, do you supply what I

lack, and show yourselves grateful to Meliso's cold ashes, praising

them in death as the love constrains you that he had for you in life.

And though a part of this duty touches and concerns us all in general,

those whom it concerns more particularly are the famous Thyrsis and

Damon, as being so well acquainted with him, such friends, such

intimates; and so I beg them, as urgently as I can, to respond to this

obligation, supplying in song with voice more calm and resounding what

I have failed to do by my tears with my faltering one.'

Telesio said no more, nor indeed had there been need to say it in

order that the shepherds might be moved to do what he bade them, for

straightway, without making any reply, Thyrsis drew forth his rebeck,

and beckoned to Damon to do the same. They were accompanied straightway

by Elicio and Lauso, and all the shepherds who had instruments there;

and in a little while they made music so sad and pleasing, that though

it delighted the ears, it moved the hearts to give forth tokens of

sadness with the tears the eyes were shedding. To this was joined the

sweet harmony of the little painted birds, that were flitting through

the air, and some sobs that the shepherdesses, already made tender and

moved by Telesio's discourse, and by what the shepherds were doing,

wrung from time to time from their lovely breasts; and it was of such

a kind that the sound of the sad music and that of the sad harmony of

the linnets, larks, and nightingales, and the bitter sound of the deep

groans joining in unison, all formed together a concert so strange and

mournful, that there is no tongue that could describe it. A little

while after, the other instruments ceasing, only the four of Thyrsis,

Damon, Elicio, and Lauso were heard. These going up to Meliso's tomb,

placed themselves on its four sides, a token from which all present

understood that they were about to sing something. And so they lent

them silence marvellous and subdued, and straightway the famous

Thyrsis, aided by Elicio, Damon, and Lauso, began, with voice loud, sad

and resounding, to sing in this wise:

THYRSIS.

Such is the cause of our grief-stricken moan,

Not ours alone, but all the world's as well,

Shepherds, your sad and mournful chant intone!

DAMON.

Let our sighs break the air, and let them swell

E'en unto Heaven in wailings, fashionèd

From righteous love and grief unspeakable!

ELICIO.

Mine eyes the tender dew shall ever shed

Of loving tears, until the memory,

Meliso, of thine exploits shall be dead.

LAUSO.

Meliso, worthy deathless history,

Worthy to enjoy on holy Heaven's throne

Glory and life through all eternity.

THYRSIS.

What time I raise myself to heights unknown

That I may sing his deeds as I think best,

Shepherds, your sad and mournful chant intone!

DAMON.

With welling tears, Meliso, that ne'er rest,

As best I can, thy friendship I reward,

With pious prayers, and holy incense blest.

ELICIO.

Thy death, alas! our happiness hath marred,

And hath to mourning changed our past delight,

Unto a tender grief that presseth hard.

LAUSO.

Those fair and blissful days when all was bright,

When the world revelled in thy presence sweet,

Have been transformed to cold and wretched night.

THYRSIS.

Oh Death, that with thy violence so fleet

Didst such a life to lowly earth restore,--

What man will not thy diligence defeat?

DAMON.

Since thou, oh Death, didst deal that blow with power,

Which brought to earth our stay 'midst fortune's stress,

Ne'er is the meadow clad with grass or flower.

ELICIO.

Ever this woe remembering, I repress

My bliss, if any bliss my feeling knows,

Myself I harrow with new bitterness.

LAUSO.

When is lost bliss recovered? Do not woes,

E'en though we seek them not, ever assail?

When amidst mortal strife find we repose?

THYRSIS.

When in the mortal fray did life prevail?

And when was Time, that swiftly flies away,

By harness stout withstood, or coat of mail?

DAMON.

Our life is but a dream, an idle play,

A vain enchantment that doth disappear,

What time it seemed the firmest in its day.

ELICIO.

A day that darkeneth in mid career,

And on its track close follows gloomy night,

Veiled in shadows born of chilly fear.

LAUSO.

But thou, renownèd shepherd, in a bright

And happy hour didst from this raging sea

Pass to the wondrous regions of delight.

THYRSIS.

After that thou hadst heard and judged the plea

Of the great shepherd of the Spanish plain

In the Venetian[117] sheepfold righteously.

DAMON.

And after thou hadst bravely borne the pain,

E'en the untimely stroke of Fortune fell,

Which made Italia sad, and even Spain.

ELICIO.

After thou hadst withdrawn so long to dwell,

With the nine maidens on Parnassus' crest,

In solitude and calm unspeakable;

LAUSO.

Despite the clang of weapons from the East

And Gallic rage, thy lofty spirit lay

Tranquil, naught moved it from its peaceful rest.

THYRSIS.

'Twas then Heaven willed, upon a mournful day,

That the cold hand of wrathful death should come,

And with thy life our bliss should snatch away.

DAMON.

Thy bliss was better, thou didst seek thy home,

But we were left to bitterness untold,

Unending and eternal was our doom.

ELICIO.

The sacred maiden choir we did behold

Of those that dwell upon Parnassus' height

Rending in agony their locks of gold.

LAUSO.

The blind boy's mighty rival by thy plight

Was moved to tears; then to the world below

He showed himself a niggard of his light.

THYRSIS.

Amidst the clash of arms, the fiery glow,

By reason of the wily Greek's deceit,

The Teucrians sad felt not so great a woe,

As those who wept, as those who did repeat

Meliso's name, the shepherds, in the hour

When of his death the tidings did them greet.

DAMON.

Their brows with fragrant varied flowers no more

Did they adorn, with mellow voice no song

Sang they of love as in the days of yore.

Around their brows the mournful cypress clung,

And in sad oft-repeated bitter moan

They chanted lays of grief with sorrowing tongue.

ELICIO.

Wherefore, since we to-day once more have shown

That we are mindful of our cruel wound,

Shepherds, your sad and mournful chant intone!

The bitter plight that fills with grief profound

Our souls, is such that adamant will be

The breast wherein no place for tears is found.

LAUSO.

Let countless tongues the soul of constancy

Extol in song, the loyal breast he showed,

Undaunted ever in adversity.

Against the cruel disdain that ever glowed

Within the wrathful breast of Phyllis sweet,

Firm as a rock against the sea, he stood.

THYRSIS.

The verses he hath sung let all repeat,

Let them, as tokens of his genius rare,

In the world's memory find eternal seat.

DAMON.

Let Fame, that spreadeth tidings everywhere,

Through lands that differ far from ours, his name

With rapid steps and busy pinions bear.

ELICIO.

From his most chaste and love-enraptured flame

Let the most wanton breast example take,

And that which fire less perfect doth inflame.

LAUSO.

Blessèd art thou, though fortune did forsake

Thee countless times, for thou dost joyous live,

No shadow now doth thy contentment break.

THYRSIS.

This mortal lowliness that thou didst leave

Behind, more full of changes than the moon,

Little doth weary thee, doth little grieve.

DAMON.

Humility thou changedst for the boon

Of loftiness, evil for good, and death

For life--thy fears and hopes were surely one.

ELICIO.

He who lives well, though he in semblance hath

Fallen, doth soar to Heaven on lofty wing,

As thou, Meliso, by the flowery path.

There, there, from throats immortal issuing,

The voice resounds, that glory doth recite,

Glory repeateth, glory sweet doth sing.

There the serene fair countenance and bright

We see, and in the sight thereof behold

Glory's supreme perfection with delight.

My feeble voice to praise thee waxeth bold,

Yet, e'en as my desire doth greater grow,

In check my fear, Meliso, doth it hold.

For that which I, with mind uplifted, now

View of that hallowed mind of thine, and see

Exalted far above all human show,

Hath made my mind a coward utterly;

I may but press my lips together, may

But raise my brows in wondering ecstasy.

LAUSO.

When thou dost go, thou fillest with dismay

All who their pleasure in thy presence sought;

Evil draws nigh, for thou dost go away.

THYRSIS.

In days gone by the rustic shepherds taught

Themselves thy wisdom, in that self-same hour

They gained new understanding, wiser thought.

But, ah! there came the inevitable hour,

When thou departedst, and we did remain,

With hearts dead, and with minds bereft of power.

We celebrate this memory of pain,

We who our love for thee in life have shown,

E'en as in death we mourn thee once again.

So to the sound of your confusèd moan,

New breath the while receiving ceaselessly,

Shepherds, your sad and mournful chant intone!

Even as is the bitter agony,

So be the welling tears, so be the sighs,

Wherewith the wind is swollen that hastens by.

Little I ask, little the boon I prize,

But ye must feel all that my tongue to you

Can now unfold with feeble, stammering cries.

But Phoebus now departs, and robs of hue

The earth that doth her sable mantle don.

So till the longed-for dawn shall come anew,

Shepherds, no more your mournful chant intone!

Thyrsis, who had begun the sad and mournful elegy, was the one who

ended it, without any of those that had listened to the lamentable song

ending their tears for a good while. But at this moment the venerable

Telesio said to them:

'Since we have in part, gallant and courteous shepherds, complied with

the debt we owe the blessed Meliso, impose silence for the nonce on

your tender tears, and give some truce to your grievous sighs, since by

neither can we make good the loss we bewail; and though human sorrow

cannot fail to show sorrow when ill befalls, yet it is necessary to

temper the excess of its attacks with the reason that attends on the

discreet. And although tears and sighs are tokens of the love cherished

for him who is bewailed, the souls for which they are shed gain more

profit by the pious sacrifices and devout prayers which are offered

for them, than if all the ocean main were to be made tears and distil

through the eyes of all the world. And for this cause and because we

must give some relief to our wearied bodies, it will be well to leave

what remains for us to do till the coming day, and for the present to

make a call on your wallets, and comply with what nature enjoins on

you.'

And in saying this, he gave orders for all the shepherdesses to abide

on one side of the valley near Meliso's tomb, leaving with them six

of the oldest shepherds who were there, and the rest were in another

part a little way from them. And straightway with what they carried in

their wallets and with the water of the clear spring they satisfied

the common necessity of hunger, ending at a time when already night

was clothing with one same colour all things contained beneath our

horizon, and the shining moon was showing her fair and radiant face in

all the fulness she has when most her ruddy brother imparts to her his

rays. But a little while after, a troubled wind arising, there began

to be seen some black clouds, which in a measure hid the light of the

chaste goddess, making shadows on the earth; tokens from which some

shepherds who were there, masters in rustic astrology, expected some

coming hurricane and tempest. But all ended only in the night remaining

grey and calm, and in their settling down to rest on the cool grass,

yielding their eyes to sweet and peaceful slumber, as all did save

some who shared as sentinels the guardianship of the shepherdesses,

and save the guardian of some torches that were left blazing round

Meliso's tomb. But now that calm silence prevailed through all that

sacred valley, and now that slothful Morpheus had with his moist branch

touched the brows and eyelids of all those present, at a time when the

wandering stars had gone a good way round our pole, marking out the

punctual courses of the night: at that moment from the very tomb of

Meliso arose a great and wondrous fire, so bright and shining that in

an instant all the dark valley was in such brightness, as if the very

sun had illumined it. By which sudden marvel the shepherds who were

awake near the tomb, fell astonished to the ground dazzled and blind

with the light of the transparent fire, which produced a contrary

effect in the others who were sleeping; for when they were stricken by

its rays, heavy slumber fled from them, and they opened, though with

some difficulty, their sleeping eyes, and seeing the strangeness of the

light that revealed itself to them, remained confounded and amazed;

and so, one standing, another reclining, another kneeling, each gazed

on the bright fire with amazement and terror. Telesio seeing all this,

arraying himself in a moment in the sacred vestments, accompanied by

Elicio, Thyrsis, Damon, Lauso, and other spirited shepherds, gradually

began to draw nigh to the fire, with the intention of seeking with some

lawful and fitting exorcisms to extinguish, or to understand whence

came the strange vision which showed itself to them. But when they

were drawing nigh to the glowing flames, they saw them dividing into

two parts, and in their midst appearing a nymph so fair and graceful,

that it set them in greater wonder than the sight of the blazing fire;

she appeared clad in a rich and fine web of silver, gathered and drawn

up at the waist in such wise that half of her legs revealed themselves

arrayed in buskins or close-fitting foot-gear, gilded and full of

countless knots of variegated ribbons. Over the silver web she wore

another vestment of green and delicate silk, which, wafted from side to

side by a light breeze that was gently blowing, seemed most exquisite.

She wore scattered over her shoulders the longest and the ruddiest

locks that human eyes ever saw, and upon them a garland made of green

laurel only. Her right hand was occupied by a tall branch of the yellow

palm of victory, and her left with another of the green olive of peace.

And with these adornments she showed herself so fair and wonderful,

that all that beheld her she kept rapt by her appearance in such wise

that, casting from them their first fear, they approached with sure

steps the neighbourhood of the fire, persuading themselves that from so

fair a vision no harm could happen to them. And all being, as has been

said, ravished to see her, the beauteous nymph opened her arms on each

side, and made the divided flames divide the more and part, to give an

opportunity that she might the better be seen; and straightway raising

her calm countenance, with grace and strange dignity she began words

such as these:

'By the results that my unexpected appearance has caused in your

hearts, discreet and pleasing company, you can gather that it is not by

virtue of evil spirits that this form of mine has been fashioned which

presents itself here to you; for one of the means by which we recognise

whether a vision be good or bad, is by the results it produces on the

mind of him who beholds it. For in the case of the good, though it

cause in him wonder and alarm, such wonder and alarm comes mingled with

a pleasant disturbance which in a little while calms and satisfies

him, contrary to what is caused by the malignant vision, which brings

alarm, discontent, terror, but never assurance. Experience will make

clear to you this truth when you know me, and when I tell you who I am,

and the cause that has moved me to come from my distant dwelling-place

to visit you. And because I do not wish to keep you in suspense with

the desire you have to know who I am, know, discreet shepherds and

beauteous shepherdesses, that I am one of the nine maidens, who on the

lofty and sacred peaks of Parnassus have their own and famous abode.

My name is Calliope, my duty and disposition it is to favour and aid

the divine spirits, whose laudable practice it is to busy themselves

in the marvellous and never duly lauded science of poetry. I am she

who made the old blind man of Smyrna, famous only through him, win

eternal fame; she who will make the Mantuan Tityrus live for all the

ages to come, until time end; and she who makes the writings, as

uncouth as learned, of the most ancient Ennius, to be esteemed from the

past to the present age. In short, I am she who favoured Catullus, she

who made Horace renowned, Propertius eternal, and I am she who with

immortal fame has preserved the memory of the renowned Petrarch, and

she who made the famous Dante descend to the dark circles of Hell, and

ascend to the bright spheres of Heaven. I am she who aided the divine

Ariosto to weave the varied and fair web he fashioned; she who in this

country of yours had intimate friendship with the witty Boscan, and

with the famous Garcilaso, with the learned and wise Castillejo, and

the ingenious Torres Naharro, by whose intellects and by their fruits

your country was enriched and I satisfied. I am she who moved the pen

of the celebrated Aldana, and that which never left the side of Don

Fernando de Acuña; and she who prides herself on the close friendship

and converse she always had with the blessed soul of the body that lies

in this tomb. The funeral rites performed by you in his honour not only

have gladdened his spirit, which now paces through the eternal realm,

but have so satisfied me that I have come perforce to thank you for

so laudable and pious a custom as this is, which is in use among you.

Therefore I promise you, with the sincerity that can be expected from

my virtue, in reward for the kindness you have shown to the ashes of

my dear beloved Meliso, always to bring it to pass that on your banks

there may never be wanting shepherds to excel all those of the other

banks in the joyous science of poetry. I will likewise always favour

your counsels, and guide your understanding so that you may never

give an unjust vote, when you decide who is deserving of being buried

in this sacred valley; for it will not be right that an honour, so

special and distinguished, and one which is only deserved by white and

tuneful swans, should come to be enjoyed by black and hoarse crows. And

so it seems to me that it will be right to give you some information

now about some distinguished men who live in this Spain of yours, and

about some in the distant Indies subject to her; and if all or any one

of these should be brought by his good fortune to end the course of

his days on these banks, without any doubt you can grant him burial

in this famous spot. Together with this I wish to warn you not to

think the first I shall name worthy of more honour than the last, for

herein I do not intend to keep any order, because, though I understand

the difference between the one and the other, and the others among

themselves, I wish to leave the decision of it in doubt, in order that

your intellects may have something to practise on in understanding the

difference of theirs, of which their works will give proof. I shall

go through their names as they come to my memory, so that none may

claim that it is a favour I have done him in having remembered him

before another, for, as I tell you, discreet shepherds, I leave you to

give them afterwards the place which seems to you to be due to them of

right; and, in order that with less trouble and annoyance you may be

attentive to my long narration, I will make it of such a kind that you

may only feel displeasure at its brevity.'

The fair nymph, having said this, was silent and straightway took a

harp she had beside her, which up till that time had been seen by no

one, and, as she began to play it, it seemed that the sky began to

brighten, and that the moon illumined the earth with new and unwonted

splendour; the trees, despite a gentle breeze that was blowing, held

their branches still; and the eyes of all who were there did not dare

to lower their lids, in order that for the little while they lingered

in raising, they might not be robbed of the glory they enjoyed in

beholding the beauty of the nymph, and indeed all would have wished all

their five senses to be changed into that of hearing only; with such

strangeness, with such sweetness, with so great a charm did the fair

muse play her harp. After she had sounded a few chords, with the most

resounding voice that could be imagined, she began with verses such as

these:

CALLIOPE'S SONG.

To the sweet sound of my harmonious lyre,

Shepherds, I pray you lend attentive ear,

The hallowed breath of the Castalian choir

Breathing therein and in my voice ye'll hear:

Lo! it will make you wonder and admire

With souls enraptured and with happy fear,

What time I do recount to you on earth

The geniuses that Heaven claims for their worth.

It is my purpose but of those to sing

Of whose life Fate hath not yet cut the thread,

Of those who rightly merit ye should bring

Their ashes to this place when they are dead,

Where, despite busy Time on hasty wing,

Through this praiseworthy duty renderèd

By you, for countless years may live their fame,

Their radiant work, and their renownèd name.

And he who doth with righteous title merit

Of high renown to win a noble store,

Is DON ALONSO;[118] he 'tis doth inherit

From holy Phoebus heavenly wisdom's flower,

In whom shineth with lofty glow the spirit

Of warlike Mars, and his unrivalled power,

LEIVA his surname in whose glorious sound

Italy, Spain herself, hath lustre found.

Arauco's wars and Spanish worth hath sung

Another who the name ALONSO hath.

Far hath he wandered all the realms among

Where Glaucus dwells, and felt his furious wrath;

His voice was not untuned, nor was his tongue,

For full of strange and wondrous grace were both,

Wherefore ERCILLA[119] doth deserve to gain

Memorial everlasting in this plain.

Of JUAN DE SILVA[120] I to you declare

That he deserves all glory and all praise,

Not only for that Phoebus holds him dear,

But for the worth that is in him always;

Thereto his works a testimony clear

Will be, wherein his intellect doth blaze

With brightness which illumineth the eyes

Of fools, dazzling at times the keen and wise.

Be the rich number of my list increased

By him to whom Heaven doth such favour show

That by the breath of Phoebus is his breast

Sustained, and by Mars' valour here below;

Thou matchest Homer, if thou purposest

To write, thy pen unto such heights doth go,

DIEGO OSORIO,[121] that to all mankind

Truly is known thy loftiness of mind.

By all the ways whereby much-speaking fame

A cavalier illustrious can praise,

By these it doth his glorious worth proclaim,

His deeds the while setting his name ablaze;

His lively wit, his virtue doth inflame

More than one tongue from height to height to raise

FRANCISCO DE MENDOZA'S[122] high career,

Nor doth the flight of time bring them to fear.

Happy DON DIEGO, DE SARMIENTO[123] bright,

CARVAJAL famous, nursling of our choir,

Of Hippocrene the radiance and delight,

Youthful in years, old in poetic fire;

Thy name will go from age to age, despite

The waters of oblivion, rising higher,

Made famous by thy works, from grace to grace,

From tongue to tongue, and from race unto race.

Now chief of all I would to you display

Ripeness of intellect in tender years,

Gallantry, skill that no man can gainsay,

A bearing courteous, worth that knows no fears;

One that in Tuscan, as in Spanish, may

His talent show, as he who did rehearse

The tale of Este's line and did enthral,

And he is DON GUTIERRE CARVAJAL.[124]

LUIS DE VARGAS,[125] thou in whom I see

A genius ripe in thy few tender days,

Strive thou to win the prize of victory,

The guerdon of my sisters and their praise;

So near are thou thereto, that thou to me

Seemest triumphant, for in countless ways

Virtuous and wise, thou strivest that thy fame

May brightly shine with clear and living flame.

Honour doth Tagus' beauteous bank receive

From countless heavenly spirits dwelling there,

Who make this present age wherein we live,

Than that of Greeks and Romans happier;

Concerning them this message do I give

That they are worthy of sepulture here,

And proof thereof their works have to us given,

Which point us out the way that leads to Heaven.

Two famous doctors first themselves present,

In Phoebus' sciences of foremost name,

The twain in age alone are different,

In character and wit they are the same;

All near and far they fill with wonderment,

They win amongst their fellows so much fame

By their exalted wisdom and profound

That soon they needs must all the world astound.

The name that cometh first into my song,

Of the twain whom I now to praise make bold,

Is CAMPUZANO,[126] great the great among,

Whom as a second Phoebus ye can hold;

His lofty wit, his more than human tongue,

Doth a new universe to us unfold

Of Indies and of glories better far,

As better than gold is wisdom's guiding star.

Doctor SUÁREZ is the next I sing,

And SOSA[127] is the name he adds thereto--

He who with skilful tongue doth everything

That free from blemish is and best, pursue;

Whoso should quench within the wondrous spring

His thirst, as he did, will not need to view

With eye of envy learnèd Homer's praise,

Nor his who sang to us of Troy ablaze.

Of Doctor BAZA,[128] if of him I might

Say what I feel, I without doubt maintain,

That I would fill all present with delight;

His learning, virtue, and his charm are plain

First have I been to raise him to the height

Where now he stands, and I am she who fain

Would make his name eternal whilst the Lord

Of Delos shall his radiant light afford.

If fame should bring the tidings to your ear

Of the strange works a famous mind displays,

Conceptions lofty, well-ordered, and clear,

Learning that would the listener amaze;

Things that the thought checketh in mid career,

And tongue cannot express, but straightway stays--

Whene'er ye are in trouble and in doubt

'Tis the Licentiate DAZA[129] leads you out.

Master GARAI'S[130] melodious works incite

Me to extol him more than all beside;

Thou, fame, excelling time of hasty flight,

His celebration deem a work of praise;

Fame, thou wilt find the fame he gives more bright

Than is thine own in spreading far and wide

His praise, for thou must, speaking of his fame,

From many-tongued to truthful change thy name.

That intellect, which, leaving far behind

Man's greatest, doth to the divine aspire,

Which in Castilian doth no pleasure find--

The heroic verse of Rome doth him inspire;

New Homer in Mantuan new combined

Is Master CÓRDOVA.[131] Worthy his lyre

Of praise in happy Spain, in every land,

Where shines the sun, where ocean laves the strand.

Doctor FRANCISCO DÍAZ,[132] I can well

Assure my shepherds here concerning thee,

That with glad heart and joy unspeakable

They can thy praises sing unceasingly;

And if I do not on thy praises dwell--

The highest is thy due, and worthily--

'Tis that our time is short, nor do I know

How I can e'er repay thee what I owe.

LUJÁN,[133] who with thy toga merited

Dost thine own Spain and foreign lands delight.

Who with thy sweet and well-known muse dost spread

Thy fame abroad to Heaven's loftiest height,

Life shall I give thee after thou art dead,

And I shall cause, in swift and rapid flight,

The fame of thine unequalled mind to roll

And spread from ours unto the opposing pole.

His lofty mind doth a Licentiate show,

And worth,--'tis a beloved friend of yours--

I mean JUAN DE VERGARA,[134] whom ye know,

An honour to this happy land of ours;

By a clear open pathway he doth go,

'Tis I that guide aright his steps and powers.

Unto his height to rise is my reward,

His mind and virtue joy to me afford.

That my bold song may praise and glory gain,

Another shall I name to you, from whom

My song to-day shall greater force attain

And to the height of my desire shall come;

And this it is that maketh me refrain

From more than naming him and finding room

To sing how lofty genius hath been sung

By DON ALONSO DE MORALES'[135] tongue.

Over the rugged steep unto the fane

Where dwelleth fame, there climbs and draweth near

A noble youth, who breaks with might and main

Though every hindrance, though 'tis fraught with fear,

And needs must come so nigh that it is plain

That fame doth in prophetic song declare

The laurel which it hath prepared ere now,

HERNANDO MALDONADO,[136] is for thy brow.

Adorned with noble laurel here ye see

His learned brow, who hath such glory found

In every science, every art, that he

O'er all the globe is even now renowned;

Oh golden age, oh happy century,

With such a man as this worthily crowned!

What century, what age doth with thee vie,

When MARCO ANTONIO DE LA VEGA[137]'s nigh?

A DIEGO is the next I call to mind,

Who hath in truth MENDOZA[138] for his name,

Worthy that history should her maker find

In him alone, and soar as soars his fame;

His learning and his virtue, which, enshrined

In every heart, the whole world doth acclaim,

Absent and present both alike astound,

Whether in near or distant nations found.

High Phoebus an acquaintance doth possess--

Acquaintance say I? Nay, a trusty friend,

In whom alone he findeth happiness,

A treasurer of knowledge without end;

'Tis he who of set purpose doth repress

Himself, so that his all he may not spend,

DIEGO DURÁN,[139] in whom we ever find,

And shall find, wisdom, worth, and force of mind.

But who is he who sings his agonies

With voice resounding, and with matchless taste?

Phoebus, and sage Arion, Orpheus wise,

Find ever their abode within his breast;

E'en from the realms where first the dawn doth rise,

Unto the distant regions of the west.

Is he renowned and loved right loyally,

For, LÓPEZ MALDONADO,[140] thou art he.

Who could the praises, shepherds mine, recite

Of him ye love, a shepherd crowned by fame,

Brightest of all the shepherds that are bright,

Who is to all known by FILIDA'S name?

The skill, the learning and the choice delight,

The rare intelligence, the heart aflame,

Of LUIS DE MONTALVO[141] aye assure

Glory and honour whilst the heavens endure.

His temples now let holy Ebro bind

With ivy evergreen and olive white,

And with acanthus golden, may he find

In joyous song his fame forever bright:

The fruitful Nile hath his renown resigned,

For Ebro's ancient worth to such a height

PEDRO DE LIÑÁN'S[142] subtle pen doth lift,

Sum of the bliss which is Apollo's gift.

I think upon the lofty soul and rare

By DON ALONSO DE VALDÉS[143] possessed,

And am spurred on to sing and to declare

That he excels the rarest and the best;

This hath he shown already, and more clear

By the elegance and grace wherewith his breast

He doth reveal, with bitter pangs distraught,

Praising the ill that cruel Love hath wrought.

Before an intellect in wonder bow,

Wherein all that the wish can ask is found.

An intellect, that though it liveth now

On earth, is with the pomp of Heaven crowned;

All that I see and hear and read and know

Of PEDRO DE PADILLA[144] the renowned,

Whether he treat of peace or war's alarm,

Brings fresh delight and wonder by its charm.

GASPAR ALFONSO,[145] thou who wingst thy flight

Unto the immortal realms, so orderest

That I can scarce thy praises all recite,

If I must praise thee as thou meritest;

The pleasing, fruitful plants that on the height

Of our renowned Parnassus find their nest,

All offer wealthy laurels for a crown

To circle and adorn thy brows alone.

Of CRISTOVAL DE MESA[146] I can say

That to your vale he will an honour be;

While he is living, nay, when life away

Hath fled, still ye can praise him fittingly;

His lofty weighty style can win to-day

Renown and honour, and the melody

Of his heroic verse, though silent fame

Remain, and I remember not his name.

DON PEDRO DE RIBERA[147] doth, ye know,

Wealth to your banks, and beauty, shepherds, bring,

Wherefore give him the honour that ye owe,

For I will be the first his praise to sing:

His virtue, his sweet muse doth clearly show

A noble subject, where, on noisy wing,

Fame, hundred thousand fames, their powers might spend

And strive his praises only to extend.

Thou, who didst bring the treasure manifold

Of verse in a new form the shores unto

Of the fair fruitful stream, whose bed of gold

Maketh it famous wheresoe'er it flow,

Thy glorious fame I promise to uphold

With the applause and reverence that we owe

To thee, CALDERA,[148] and thy peerless mind;

With laurel, ivy, I thy brows shall bind.

Let fame, and let the memory I possess,

For ever famous make the memory

Of him who hath transformed to loveliness

The glory of our Christian poesy;

The knowledge and the charm let all confess,

From the dayspring to where the day doth die,

Of great FRANCISCO DE GUZMÁN,[149] whose are

The arts of Phoebus as the arts of war.

Of the Captain SALCEDO[150] 'tis quite clear

That his celestial genius doth attain

Unto the point most lofty, keen and rare,

That can be fancied by the thought of man;

If I compare him, him I do compare

Unto himself--Comparisons, 'tis plain,

Are useless, and to measure worth so true,

All measures must be faulty, or askew.

By reason of the wit and curious grace

Of TOMÁS DE GRACIÁN,[151] I pray, permit

That I should choose within this vale a place

Which shall his virtue, knowledge, worth, befit;

And if it run with his deserts apace,

'Twill be so lofty and so exquisite

That few, methinks, may hope with him to vie,

His genius and his virtues soar so high.

Fain would BAPTISTA DE VIVAR[152] you praise,

Sisters, with unpremeditated lyre;

Such grace, discretion, prudence, he displays,

That, muses though ye be, ye can admire;

He will not hymn Narcissus in his lays

Nor the disdains that lonely Echo tire,

But he will sing his cares which had their birth

'Twixt sad forgetfulness and hope of mirth.

Now terror new, now new alarm and fear

Cometh upon me and o'erpowereth me,

Only because I would, yet cannot bear

Unto the loftiest heights of dignity

Grave BALTASAR, who doth as surname wear

TOLEDO,[153] though my fancy whispereth me

That of his learned quill the lofty flight

Must bear him soon to the empyrean height.

There is a mind wherein experience shows

That knowledge findeth fitting dwelling-place,

Not only in ripe age amidst the snows,

But in green years, in early youthful days;

With no man shall I argue, or oppose

A truth so plain, the more because my praise,

If it perchance unto his ears be brought,

Thine honour hath, LOPE DE VEGA,[154] sought.

Now holy Betis to my fancy's eye

Presents himself with peaceful olive crowned,

Making his plaint that I have passed him by,--

His angry words now in my ears resound--

He asks that in this narrative, where I

Speak of rare intellects, place should be found

For those that dwell upon his banks, and so

With voice sonorous I his will shall do.

But what am I to do? For when I seek

To start, a thousand wonders I divine.

Many a Pindus' or Parnassus' peak,

And choirs of lovelier sisters than the nine,

Whereat my lofty spirits faint and weak

Become, and more when by some strange design

I hear a sound repeated as in echo,

Whene'er the name is namèd of PACHECO.[155]

PACHECO 'tis whom Phoebus calls his friend,

On whom he and my sisters so discreet

Did from his feeble tender years attend

With new affection and new converse sweet;

I too his genius and his writings send

By strange paths never trod by mortal feet,

And ever have sent, till they rise on high

Unto the loftiest place of dignity.

Unto this pass I come, that, though I sing

With all my powers divine HERRERA'S[156] praise,

My wearied toil but little fruit will bring,

Although to the fifth sphere my words him raise;

But, should friendship's suspicions to me cling,

Upon his works and his true glory gaze,

HERNANDO doth by learning all enthral

From Ganges unto Nile, from pole to pole.

FERNANDO would I name to you again

DE CANGAS[157] surnamed, whom the world admires.

Through whom the learning lives and doth sustain

Itself that to the hallowed bays aspires;

If there be any intellect that fain

Would lift its gaze to the celestial fires,

Let it but gaze on him, and it will find

The loftiest and the most ingenious mind.

Concerning CRISTÓVAL, who hath the name

Of DE VILLAROEL,[158] ye must believe

That he full well deserveth that his name

Ne'er should oblivion's gloomy waters cleave;

His wit let all admire, his worth acclaim

With awe, his wit and worth let all receive

As the most exquisite we can discover,

Where'er the sun doth shine, or earth doth cover.

The streams of eloquence which did of old

Flow from the breast of stately Cicero,

Which, gladdening the Athenian people bold,

Did honour on Demosthenes bestow,

The minds o'er whom Time hath already rolled--

Who bore themselves so proudly long ago--

Master FRANCISCO DE MEDINA,[159] now

Let them before thy lofty learning bow.

Rightly thou canst, renownèd Betis, now

With Mincio, Arno, and with Tiber vie,

Uplift in happiness thy hallowed brow,

And spread thee in new bosoms spaciously:

Since Heaven wished, that doth thy bliss allow,

Such fame to give thee, honour, dignity,

As he doth bring unto thy banks so fair,

BALTASAR DEL ALCÁZAR,[160] who dwells there.

Another ye will see, summed up in whom

Apollo's rarest learning will ye see,

Which doth the semblance of itself assume,

When spread through countless others it may be;

In him 'tis greater, in him it doth come

To such a height of excellence that he,

The Licentiate MOSQUERA[161] well can claim

To rival e'en Apollo's self in fame.

Behold! yon prudent man who doth adorn

And deck with sciences his limpid breast,

Shrinks not from gazing on the fountain born

In wisdom's waters from our mountain's crest;

In the clear peerless stream he doth not scorn

To quench his thirst, and thus thou flourishest,

DOMINGO DE BECERRA,[162] here on earth,

For all recount the mighty doctor's worth.

Words I might speak of famous ESPINEL[163]

That pass beyond the wit of human kind,

Concerning all the sciences that dwell,

Nurtured by Phoebus' breath, within his mind;

But since my tongue the least part cannot tell

Of the great things that in my soul I find,

I say no more save that he doth aspire

To Heaven, whether he take his pen or lyre.

If ruddy Phoebus ye would fain espy

With blood-red Mars in equal balance weighed,

On great CARRANZA[164] seek to cast an eye,

In whom each hath his constant dwelling made;

With such discretion, art, dexterity,

Hath he his power o'er pen and lance displayed

That the dexterity once cleft apart

He hath brought back to science and to art.

Of LÁZARO LUIS IRANZO,[165] lyre

Than mine must needs be tuned with better art,

To sing the good that Heaven doth inspire,

The worth that Heaven fosters in his heart:

By Mars' and Phoebus' path he doth inspire

To climb unto the lofty heights apart

Where human thought scarce reacheth, yet, despite

Fortune and fate, he will reach them aright.

BALTASAR DE ESCOBAR,[166] who doth adorn

The famèd shores of Tiber's stream to-day,

Whom the broad banks of hallowed Betis mourn,

Their beauty lost when he is far away,

A fertile wit, if he perchance return

To his beloved native land, I pay

Unto his youthful and his honoured brow

The laurel and the honour that I owe.

JUAN SANZ, called DE ZUMETA,[167] with what power,

What honour, palm, or laurel shall be crowned,

If from the Indian to the ruddy Moor

No muse as his so perfect can be found?

Here I anew his fame to him restore

By telling you, my shepherds, how profound

Will be Apollo's joy at any praise

Which ye may bring to swell ZUMETA'S praise.

Unto JUAN DE LAS CUEVAS[168] fitting place

Give, shepherds, whensoever in this spot

He shall present himself. His muse's grace

And his rare wit this prize for him have wrought;

His works I know, though Time may flee apace,

In Time's despite, shall never be forgot,

From dread oblivion they shall free his name,

Which shall abide with bright and lofty fame.

If him ye ever see, with honour greet

The famous man, of whom I now shall tell,

And celebrate his praise in verses sweet,

As one who doth therein so much excel;

BIBALDO he--to make my tale complete,

ADAM BIBALDO[169]--who doth gild and swell

The glory of this happy age of ours

With the choice bloom of intellectual powers.

E'en as is wont to be with varied flowers

Adorned and wealthy made the flowery May,

With many varied sciences and powers

DON JUAN AGUAYO'S[170] intellect is gay;

Though I in praising him might pass the hours,

I say but this, that I now but essay,

And at another time I shall unfold

Things that your hearts with wonderment will hold.

DON JUAN GUTIÉRREZ RUFO'S[171] famous name

I wish in deathless memory to live,

That wise and foolish may alike acclaim

In wonderment his noble narrative;

Let hallowed Betis give to him the fame

His style doth merit, let them glory give

To him, who know, may Heaven with renown

Equal unto his towering flight him crown.

In DON LUIS DE GÓNGORA[172] I show

A rare and lively wit that hath no peer,

His works delight me, their wealth I bestow

Not on myself alone, but everywhere;

And if I merit aught, because ye know

My love for you, see that your praises bear

To endless life his lofty love profound

Despite the flight of time and death's cruel wound.

Let the green laurel, let the ivy green,

Nay, let the sturdy holm-oak crown the brow

Of GONZALO CERVANTES,[173] for I ween

Worthy of being crowned therewith art thou;

More than Apollo's learning in thee seen,

In thee doth Mars the burning ardour show

Of his mad rage, yet with so just a measure

That through thee he inspireth dread and pleasure.

Thou, who with thy sweet plectrum didst extol

Celidon's name and glory everywhere,

Whose wondrous and well-polished verses call

Thee unto laurels and to triumphs fair.

GONZALO GRACIÁN,[174] take the coronal,

Sceptre and throne from her who holds thee dear.

In token that the bard of Celidon

Deserveth to be Lord of Helicon.

Thou, Darro, far renownèd stream of gold,

How well thou canst thyself exalt on high,

And with new current and new strength, behold,

Thou canst e'en with remote Hydaspes vie!

MATEO DE BERRÍO[175] maketh bold

To honour thee with every faculty

So that through him e'en now the voice of fame

Doth spread abroad through all the world thy name.

Of laurel green a coronal entwine,

That ye therewith the worthy brows may crown

Of SOTO BARAHONA,[176] shepherds mine,

A man of wisdom, eloquence, renown;

Although the holy flood, the fount divine

Of Helicon, should BARAHONA drown,

Mysterious chance! he yet would come to sight

As if he were upon Parnassus' height.

Within the realms antarctic I might say

That sovereign minds eternal fame attain,

For if these realms abound in wealth to-day,

Minds more than human also they contain;

In many now I can this truth display,

But I can give you plenteous store in twain,

One from New Spain, he an Apollo new,

The other, a sun unrivalled from Peru.

FRANCISCO DE TERRAZAS[177] is the name

Of one, renowned in Spain and in the West,

New Hippocrene his noble heart aflame

Hath given to his happy native nest;

Unto the other cometh equal fame,

Since by his heavenly genius he hath blest

Far Arequipa with eternal spring--

DIEGO MARTÍNEZ DE RIBERA[178] I sing.

Beneath a happy star a radiance bright

Here did flash forth, so rich in signal worth

That his renown its tiniest spark of light

From East to West hath spread o'er all the earth;

And when this light was born, all valorous might

Was born therewith, PICADO[179] had his birth,

Even my brother, Pallas' brother too,

Whose living semblance we in him did view.

If I must give the glory due to thee,

Great ALONSO DE ESTRADA,[180] thou to-day

Deservest that I should not hurriedly

Thy wisdom and thy wondrous mind display;

Thou dost enrich the land that ceaselessly

To Betis doth a bounteous tribute pay,

Unequal the exchange, for no reward

Can payment for so fair a debt afford.

DON JUAN, Heaven gave thee as the rare delight

Of this fair country with no grudging hand,

ÁVALOS' glory, and RIBERA'S[181] light,

Honour of Spain, of every foreign land,

Blest Spain, wherein with many a radiance bright

Thy works shall teach the world to understand

All that Nature can give us, rich and free,

Of genius bright and rare nobility.

He who is happy in his native land,

In Limar's limpid waters revelling,

The cooling winds and the renownèd strand

With his divinest verses gladdening,--

Let him come, straightway ye will understand

From his spirit and discretion why I sing,

For SANCHO DE RIBERA[182] everywhere

Is Phoebus' self and Mars without a peer.

A Homer new this vale of high renown

Did once upon a time from Betis wrest,

On whom of wit and gallantry the crown

We can bestow--his greatness is confessed;

The Graces moulded him to be their own,

Heaven sendeth him in every grace the best,

Your Tagus' banks already know his fame,

PEDRO DE MONTESDOCA[183] is his name.

Wonder the illustrious DIEGO DE AGUILAR[184]

In everything the wish can ask inspires,

A royal eagle he, who flieth far

Unto a height whereto no man aspires;

His pen 'mongst thousands wins the spoil of war,

For before it the loftiest retires,

Guanuco will his style, his valour tell

Of such renown; Guanuco knows it well.

A GONZALO FERNÁNDEZ[185] draweth near,

A mighty captain in Apollo's host.

In whose heroic name that hath no peer,

SOTOMAYOR to-day doth make his boast;

His verse is wondrous and his wisdom clear

Where'er he is beheld from coast to coast,

And if his pen doth so much joy afford,

He is no less renownèd by his sword.

HENRIQUE GARCÉS[186] the Peruvian land

Enricheth. There with sweet melodious rhyme,

With cunning, skilful, and with ready hand,

In him the hardest task did highest climb;

New speech, new praise he to the Tuscan grand

Hath given in the sweet Spanish of our time;

Who shall the greatest praises from him take,

E'en though Petrarch himself again awake?

FERNÁNDEZ DE PINEDA'S[187] talent rare

And excellent, and his immortal vein

Make him to be in no small part the heir

Of Hippocrene's waters without stain;

Since whatsoe'er he would therefrom, is ne'er

Denied him, since such glory he doth gain

In the far West, let him here claim the part

He now deserveth for his mind and art.

And thou that hast thy native Betis made,

With envy filled, to murmur righteously,

That thy sweet tuneful song hath been displayed

Unto another earth, another sky,

Noble JUAN DE MESTANZA,[188] undismayed

Rejoice, for whilst the fourth Heaven shall supply

Its light, thy name, resplendent in its worth,

Shall be without a peer o'er all the earth.

All that can e'er in a sweet vein be found

Of charm, ye will in one man only find,

Who bridleth to his muse's gladsome sound

The ocean's madness and the hurrying wind;

For BALTASAR DE ORENA[189] is renowned,

From pole to pole his fame, swift as the wind,

Doth run, and from the East unto the West,

True honour he of our Parnassus' crest.

A fruitful and a precious plant I know

That hath been to the highest mountain found

In Thessaly transplanted thence, and, lo!

A plant ere this with happy fruitage crowned;

Shall I be still nor tell what fame doth show

Of PEDRO DE ALVARADO[190] the renowned?

Renowned, yet no less brightly doth he shine,

For rare on earth is such a mind divine.

Thou, who with thy new muse of wondrous grace

Art of the moods of love, CAIRASCO,[191] singing,

And of that common varying fickleness,

Where cowards 'gainst the brave themselves are flinging;

If from the Grand Canary to this place

Thou art thy quick and noble ardour bringing,

A thousand laurels, for thou hast deserved,

My shepherds offer, praises well-deserved.

What man, time-honoured Tormes, would deny

That thou canst e'en the Nile itself excel,

If VEGA in thy praises can outvie

E'en Tityrus who did of Mincio tell?

DAMIÁN,[192] I know thy genius riseth high

To where this honour doth thine honours swell,

For my experience of many years

Thy knowledge and thy virtue choice declares.

Although thy genius and thy winning grace,

FRANCISCO SÁNCHEZ,[193] were to give me leave,

If I dared form the wish to hymn thy praise,

Censure should I for lack of skill receive;

None but a master-tongue, whose dwelling place

Is in the heavens, can be the tongue to achieve

The lengthy course and of thy praises speak,

For human tongue is for this task too weak.

The things that an exalted spirit show,

The things that are so rare, so new in style,

Which fame, esteem, and knowledge bring to view

By hundred thousand proofs of wit and toil,

Cause me to give the praises that are due

To DON FRANCISCO DE LAS CUEVAS,[194] while

Fame that proclaims the tidings everywhere,

Seeks not to linger in her swift career.

At such a time as this I would have crowned

My sweet song gladly, shepherds, with the praise

Of one whose genius doth the world astound,

And could your senses ravish and amaze;

In him the union and the sum is found

Of all I have praised and have yet to praise;

FRAY LUIS DE LEÓN[195] it is I sing,

Whom I love and adore, to whom I cling.

What means, what ways of praise shall I achieve,

What pathways that yon great MATÍAS' name

May in the world for countless ages live,

Who hath ZUÑIGA[196] for his other name?

Unto him all my praises let me give,

Though he is man and I immortal am,

Because his genius truly is divine,

Worthily praise and honour in him shine.

Turn ye the thought that passeth speedily

Unto Pisuerga's lovely banks divine,

Ye will see how the lofty minds whereby

They are adorned, enrich this tale of mine;

And not the banks alone, but e'en the sky,

Wherein the stars resplendent ever shine,

Itself assuredly can honour claim,

When it receives the men whom now I name.

Thou, DAMASIO DE FRÍAS,[197] canst alone

Thy praises utter, for, although our chief,

Even Apollo's self should praise thee, none

But could be in thy praises all too brief;

Thou art the pole-star that hath ever shone

Certain and sure, that sendeth sweet relief

From storm, and favouring gales, and safe to shore

Brings him who saileth wisdom's ocean o'er.

ANDRÉS SANZ DEL PORTILLO,[198] send to me

That breath, I pray, whereby Phoebus doth move

Thy learned pen, and lofty fantasy,

That I may praise thee as it doth behove;

For my rough tongue will never able be,

Whate'er the ways it here may try and prove,

To find a way of praising as I would

All that I feel and see in thee of good.

Happiest of minds, thou towerest in thy flight

Above Apollo's highest, with thy ray

So bright, thou givest to our darkness light,

Thou guidest us, however far we stray;

And though thou dost now blind me with thy light

And hast my mind o'erwhelmèd with dismay,

Glory beyond the rest I give to thee,

For, SORIA,[199] glory thou hast given to me.

If, famous CANTORAL,[200] so rich a meed

Of praise thy works achieve in every part,

Thou of my praises wilt have little need,

Unless I praise thee with new mode and art;

With words significant of noble deed,

With all the skill that Heaven doth impart,

I marvel, praise in silence, thus I reach

A height I cannot hope to gain by speech.

If I to sing thy praise have long delayed,

Thou, VACA Y DE QUIÑONES,[201] mayst forgive

The past forgetfulness I have displayed

And the repentance I now show receive,

For with loud cries and proclamation made

O'er the broad world this task I shall achieve

In open and in secret, that thy fame

Shall spread abroad, and brightly gleam thy name.

Thy rich and verdant strand no juniper

Enricheth, nor sad cypress; but a crown

Of laurels and of myrtles it doth wear,

Bright Ebro, rich in waters and renown,

As best I can, I now thy praise declare,

Praising that bliss which Heaven hath sent down

Unto thy banks, for geniuses more bright

Dwell on thy banks e'en than the stars of night.

Two brothers witnesses will be thereto,

Two daysprings they, twin suns of poesy,

On whom all that it could of art bestow

And genius, Heaven lavished bounteously;

Thoughts of wise age, though still in youthful glow,

Converse mature, and lovely fantasy,

Fashion a worthy, deathless aureola

For LUPERCIO LEONARDO DE ARGENSOLA.[202]

With envy blest, in holy rivalry

Methinks the younger brother doth aspire

To match the elder, since he riseth high

To where no human eye e'er riseth higher;

Wherefore he writes and sings melodiously

Histories countless with so sweet a lyre

That young BARTOLOMÉ[203] hath well deserved

Whatever for LUPERCIO is reserved.

If good beginning and a sequence fair

Inspire the hope of an illustrious close

In everything, my mind may now declare

That thus thou shalt exalt o'er all its foes,

COSME PARIENTE.[204] Thus thou canst with rare

Confidence to thy wise and noble brows

Promise the crown that rightly hath been gained

By thy bright intellect and life unstained.

MURILLO,[205] thou dost dwell in solitude,

Heaven thy companion, and dost there display

That other muses, cleverer and more good,

Ne'er leave thy Christian side and go away;

Thou from my sisters didst receive thy food,

And now thou dost, this kindness to repay,

Guide us and teach us heavenly things to sing,

Pleasing to Heaven, and this world profiting.

Turia, who loudly didst of old proclaim

The excellence of the children born to thee,

If thou shouldst hearken to the words I frame,

Moved by no envy, by no rivalry.

Thou wilt hear how by those whom I shall name,

Thy fame is bettered; their presence with thee,

Their valour, virtue, genius, are thy dower,

And make thee o'er Indus and Ganges tower.

DON JUAN COLOMA,[206] thou within whose breast

Hath been enclosed so much of Heaven's grace,

Who hast with bridle stern envy repressed,

And given to fame a thousand tongues to blaze,

From Tagus to the kingdom fruitfulest,

Abroad thy name and worth in words of praise,

COUNT DE ELDA, blest in all, thou dost bestow

On Turia greater fame than that of Po.

He in whose breast a spring that is divine

Through him, doth ever copiously abound,

To whom his choir of flashing lights incline,

And rightly--they their Lord in him have found--

Who should by all, from Ethiop 'neath the Line

To Eskimo, with name unique be crowned,

DON LUIS GARCERÁN[207] is peerless, bright,

Grand Master of Montesa, world's delight.

Within this famous vale he should receive

A place illustrious, an abode renowned,

He to whom fame the name would gladly give

Wherewith his intellect is fitly crowned;

Be it the care of Heaven to achieve

His praise--from Heaven comes his worth profound--

And laud what is beyond my faculties

In DON ALONSO REBOLLEDO[208] wise.

DOCTOR FALCÓN,[209] so lofty is thy flight

That thou beyond the lordly eagle high

Dost rise; thy genius unto Heaven's height

Ascends, leaving this vale of misery;

Wherefore I fear, wherefore I dread aright

That, though I praise thee, thou wilt yet espy

Cause of complaint in that for nights and days

My voice and tongue I use not in thy praise.

If e'en as fortune doth, sweet poesy

Had but an ever-changing wheel possessed,

Swifter in speed than Dian through the sky,

Which was not, is not, ne'er shall be at rest,

Thereon let MICER ARTIEDA[210] lie--

The wheel unchanged the while amid the test--

And he would ever keep the topmost place

For knowledge, intellect, and virtue's grace.

The goodly shower of praises thou didst pour

Upon the rarest intellects and best.

Alone thou meritest and dost secure,

Alone thou dost secure and meritest;

GIL POLO,[211] let thy hopes be firm and sure,

That in this vale thy ashes will find rest

In a new tomb by these my shepherds reared,

Wherein they will be guarded and revered.

CRISÓOBAL DE VIRUES,[212] since thou dost vaunt

A knowledge and a worth like to thy years,

Thyself the genius and the virtue chant

Wherewith thou fleest the world's beguiling fears;

A fruitful land and a well-nurtured plant--

In Spain and foreign lands I shall rehearse

And for the fruit of thy exalted mind

Win fame and honour and affection kind.

If like unto the mind he doth display

SILVESTRE DE ESPINOSA'S[213] praise must be,

A voice more skilled were needed and more gay

A longer time and greater faculty;

But since my voice he guideth on the way,

This guerdon true shall I bestow, that he

May have the blessing Delos' god doth bring

To the choice flood of Hippocrene's spring.

The world adorning as he comes in view

Amongst them an Apollo I behold,

GARCIA ROMERO,[214] discreet, gallant too,

Worthiest of being in this list enrolled;

If dark Peneus' child, whose story true

Hath been in Ovid's chronicles retold,

Had found him in the plains of Thessaly,

Not laurel, but ROMERO[215] would she be.

It breaks the silence and the hallowed bound,

Pierces the air, and riseth to the sky,

The heavenly, hallowed, and heroic sound

That speaks in FRAY PEDRO DE HUETE'S[216] cry;

Of his exalted intellect profound

Fame sang, sings and shall sing unceasingly,

Taking his works as witness of her song

To spread amazement all the world among.

Needs must I now to the last end draw near,

And of the greatest deed I e'er designed

Make a beginning now, which shall, I fear,

Move unto bitter wrath Apollo kind;

Since, although style be wanting, I prepare

To praise with rustic and untutored mind

Two suns that Spain, the country of their birth,

Illumine, and moreover all the earth.

Apollo's hallowed, honourable lore,

Discretion of a courtier mature,

And years well-spent, experience, which a store

Of countless prudent counsels doth assure,

Acuteness of intellect, a ready power

To mark and to resolve whate'er obscure

Difficulty and doubt before them comes,--

Each of these in these twin suns only blooms.

Now, shepherds, I in these two poets find

An epilogue to this my lengthy lay;

Though I for them the praises have designed

Which ye have heard, I do not them repay;

For unto them is debtor every mind,

From them I win contentment every day,

Contentment from them winneth all the earth

E'en wonder, for 'tis Heaven gives them birth.

In them I wish to end my melody,

Yet I begin an admiration new,

And if ye think I go too far, when I

Say who they are, behold, I vanquish you;

By them I am exalted to the sky,

And without them shame ever is my due;

'Tis LÁINEZ,[217] FIGUEROA[218] 'tis I name

Worthy eternal and unceasing fame.

Scarce had the fair nymph ended the last accents of her delightful song,

when the flames which were divided, uniting once more, enclosed her

in the midst, and straightway, as they were gradually consumed, the

glowing fire in a little while vanished, and the discreet muse from

before the eyes of all, at a time when already the bright dawn was

beginning to reveal her cool and rosy cheeks over the spacious sky,

giving glad tokens of the coming day. And straightway the venerable

Telesio, setting himself on Meliso's tomb, and surrounded by all the

pleasing company who were there, all lending him a pleasing attention

and strange silence, began to speak to them in this wise:

'What you have seen this past night in this very spot and with your

eyes, discreet and gallant shepherds, and fair shepherdesses, will have

given you to understand how acceptable to Heaven is the laudable custom

we have of performing these yearly sacrifices and honourable funeral

rites, for the happy souls of the bodies which by your decree deserved

to have burial in this famous valley. I say this to you, my friends, in

order that henceforth with more fervour and diligence you may assist in

carrying out so holy and famous a work, since you now see how rare and

lofty are the spirits of which the beauteous Calliope has told us, for

all are worthy not only of your, but of all possible praises. And think

not that the pleasure is small I have felt in learning from so true a

narration how great is the number of the men of divine genius who live

in our Spain to-day; for it always has been and is held by all foreign

nations that the spirits are not many, but few, that in the science

of poetry show that they are of lofty spirit, the real fact being as

different as we see, since each of those the nymph has named excels

the most subtle foreigner, and they would give clear tokens of it, if

poetry were valued as highly in this Spain of ours as it is in other

regions. And so for this reason the renowned and clear intellects that

excel in it, because of the little esteem in which the princes and the

common people hold them, by their minds alone communicate their lofty

and strange conceptions, without daring to publish them to the world,

and I hold for my part that Heaven must have ordained it in this way

because the world does not deserve, nor does our heedless age, to enjoy

food so pleasant to the soul. But, since it seems to me, shepherds,

that the little sleep of the past night and our long ceremonies will

have made you somewhat wearied and desirous of repose, it will be well,

after doing the little that remains to us to fulfil our purpose, for

each to return to his hut or to the village, carrying in his memory

what the muse has enjoined on us.'

And, saying this, he descended from the tomb, and crowning himself once

more with new funereal branches, he went again round the pyre three

times, all following him and accompanying him in some devout prayers

he was uttering. This being done, all having him in their midst, he

turned his grave face to each side, and, bowing his head, and showing

a grateful countenance and eyes full of love, he took leave of all the

company, who, going some by one and some by another side of the four

outlets that place had, in a little while all dispersed and divided,

only those of Aurelio's village remaining, and with them Timbrio,

Silerio, Nisida, and Blanca, with the famous shepherds, Elicio,

Thyrsis, Damon, Lauso, Erastro, Daranio, Arsindo, and the four hapless

ones, Orompo, Marsilio, Crisio, and Orfenio, with the shepherdesses

Galatea, Florisa, Silveria and her friend Belisa, for whom Marsilio was

dying. All these then being together, the venerable Aurelio told them

that it would be well to depart at once from that place in order to

reach the stream of palms in time to spend the noon-tide heat there,

since it was so suitable a spot for it. What Aurelio was saying seemed

good to all, and straightway they went with peaceful steps towards

where he said. But as the fair appearance of the shepherdess Belisa

would not permit Marsilio's spirits to rest, he would fain, if he had

been able, and it had been allowed him, have approached her and told

her of the injustice she used towards him; but, not to break through

the respect which was due to Belisa's modesty, the mournful swain was

more silent than his desire required. Love produced the same effects

and symptoms in the souls of the lovers Elicio and Erastro, who each

for himself would fain have told Galatea what she well knew already. At

this moment Aurelio said:

'It does not seem to me well, shepherds, that you should show

yourselves so greedy as not to be willing to respond to and repay what

you owe to the larks and nightingales and to the other painted little

birds that amongst these trees are delighting and gladdening you by

their untaught wondrous harmony. Play your instruments and uplift your

sounding voices, and show them that your art and skill in music excel

their native music, and with such a pastime we shall feel less the

tedium of the journey and the rays of the sun which already seem to be

threatening the violence with which they must needs strike the earth

during this noon-tide heat.'

But little was necessary for Aurelio to be obeyed, for straightway

Erastro played his pipe and Arsindo his rebeck, to the sound of which

instruments, all giving the lead to Elicio, he began to sing in this

wise:

ELICIO.

For the impossible I fight,

And, should I wish to retreat,

Step nor pathway is in sight,

For, till victory or defeat,

Desire draweth me with might;

Though I know that I must die,

Ere the victory I achieve,

When I most in peril lie,

Then it is that I receive

_More faith in adversity_.

Never may I hope to gain

Fortune; this is Heaven's decree.

Heaven the works of hope hath ta'en

And doth lavish aye on me

Countless certainties of pain;

But my breast of constancy,

Which amidst Love's living flame

Glows and melteth ceaselessly,

In exchange this boon doth claim:

_More faith in adversity_.

Certain doubt and fickleness

Traitorous faith and surest fear,

Love's unbridled wilfulness,

Trouble ne'er the loving care

Which is crowned with steadfastness,

Time on hasty wing may fly,

Absence come, or disdain cold,

Evil grow, tranquillity

Fail, yet I as bliss will hold

_More faith in adversity_.

Certain folly is it not,

And a madness sure and great,

That I set my heart on what

Fortune doth deny, and Fate,

Nor is promised by my lot?

Dread of everything have I,

There is naught can give me pleasure,

Yet amidst such agony

Love bestows its chiefest treasure:

_More faith in adversity_.

Victory o'er my grief I gain,

Which to such a pass is brought

That it doth Love's height attain,

And I find that from this thought

Comes some solace to my pain;

Although poor and lowly I,

Yet relief so rich in woe

To the fancy I apply,

That the heart may ever know

_More faith in adversity_.

All the more that every ill

Comes with every ill to-day,

And that they my life may fill

With more pain, though deadly they,

They do keep me living still;

But our life in dignity

With a noble end is crowned,

And in mine my fame shall lie,

For in life, in death I found

_More faith in adversity_.

It seemed to Marsilio that what Elicio had been singing accorded with

his mood so well that he wished to follow him in the same idea, and so,

without waiting for anyone else to take the lead in it, to the sound of

the same instruments, he began to sing thus:

MARSILIO.

Ah! 'tis easy for the wind

All the hopes to bear away

That could ever be designed

And could their foundations lay

On vain fancies of the mind;

For all hopes of loving gain,

All the ways Time doth uncover,

Wholly are destroyed and slain;

But the while in the true lover

_Faith, faith only, doth remain_.

It achieves such potency

That, despite disdain which never

Offereth security,

Bliss it promiseth me ever,

Bliss that keeps the hope in me;

And, though Love doth quickly wane

In the angry breast and white

That increaseth so my pain,

Yet in mine, in its despite,

_Faith, faith only, doth remain_.

Love, 'tis true thou dost receive

Tribute for my loyalty,

And so much dost thou achieve

That my faith did never die,

It doth with my works revive;

My content--'tis to thee plain--

And my glory all decays,

As thy fury grows amain;

In my soul as dwelling-place

_Faith, faith only, doth remain_.

But if it be truth declared

And beyond all doubt have passed,

That to faith glory is barred,

I, who shall to faith hold fast,

What hope I for my reward?

Sense doth vanish with the pain

That is pictured, all the bliss

Flies and is not seen again,

And amidst such miseries

_Faith, faith only, doth remain_.

With a profound sigh the hapless Marsilio ended his song, and

straightway Erastro, handing over his pipe, without further delaying

began to sing thus:

ERASTRO.

In my woe and suffering

'Midst the pleasures of my care,

My faith is so choice a thing,

That it flieth not from fear

Neither unto hope doth cling;

'Tis not moved to agony,

In its task of climbing high,

To behold that joy hath fled,

Nor to see that life is sped

_Where faith lives and hope is dead_.

This is wondrous 'midst my woe,

Yet 'tis so that thus my bliss,

If it comes, may come to show

That amidst a thousand 'tis

That to which the palm should go;

Let not fame this truth deny

But unto the nations cry

With loud tongue that Love doth rest

Firm and loyal in my breast

_Where faith lives and hope is dead_.

Ah! thy rigorous disdain

And my merit, poor and low,

So affright me that 'tis plain,

Though I love thee, this I know,

Yet I dare not tell my pain;

Ever open I espy

The gate to my agony,

And that life doth slow depart,

For thou heedest not the heart

_Where faith lives and hope is dead_.

Never doth my fancy frame

Such a frenzied, foolish, thought

As to think that I could claim

Any bliss that I have sought

By my faith and heart aflame;

Thou canst know with certainty

My surrendered soul doth try,

Shepherdess, to love thee true,

For 'tis there that thou wilt view

_Where faith lives and hope is dead_.

Erastro became silent, and straightway the absent Crisio, to the sound

of the same instruments, began to sing in this fashion:

CRISIO.

If the loyal heart despair

Of achieving happiness,

Whoso faints in the career

Of the loving passion's stress,

What shall he as guerdon bear?

I know not that any may

Win delight and pleasure gay

In the sudden rush of Love,

If the greatest joys but prove

_'Tis no faith that doth not stay_.

This undoubted truth we know

That in battle and in love

He that proud and bold is, though

Conqueror he at first may prove,

Sinks at last beneath the blow;

And the wise man knows to-day

That the victory ever lay

'Midst the strife in constancy,

And he knows, whate'er it be

_'Tis no faith that doth not stay_.

Whoso seeks in love to gain

Nothing save his happiness,

In his fickle thought and vain,

Faith that shall withstand all stress

Cannot for one hour remain;

I myself these words would say,

If my faith should not display

Constancy amidst the storm

Of ill, as when hope is warm:

_'Tis no faith that doth not stay_.

Madness of a lover new,

His impetuous hastening,

Sighs and sadness, these, 'tis true,

Are but fleeting clouds of spring,

In a moment lost to view:

'Tis not love he doth display,

Greed and folly lead astray,

For he loves, yet loveth not,

No man loves who dieth not,

_'Tis no faith that doth not stay_.

All approved of the order the shepherds were keeping in their songs,

and with desire they were waiting for Thyrsis or Damon to begin; but at

once Damon satisfied them, for, as Crisio finished, to the sound of his

own rebeck, he sang thus:

DAMON.

Thankless Amaryllis fair,

Who shall make thee tender prove,

If the faith of my true love

And the anguish of my care

Do thee but to hardness move?

Maiden, 'tis to thee well known

That the love which is in me

Leads to this extremity:

Save my faith in God alone

_Naught is faith but faith in thee_.

But although I go so high

In love for a mortal thing,

Such bliss to my woe doth cling

That the soul I raise thereby

To the land whence it doth spring;

Thus this truth I know full well

That my love remains in me

In life, in death, ceaselessly,

And, if faith in love doth dwell,

_Naught is faith but faith in thee_.

All the years that I have passed

In my services of love,

My soul's sacrifices prove

All the cares that hold me fast

And the faith that doth me move;

Wherefore for the ill I bear

I will ask no remedy,

Should I ask it willingly,

'Tis because, my lady fair,

_Naught is faith but faith in thee_.

In my soul's tempestuous ocean

Peace and calm I ne'er have found,

And my faith is never crowned

With that hope and glad emotion

Whereon faith itself doth ground;

Love and fortune I deplore

Yet revenge is not for me,

For they bring felicity

In that, though I hope no more,

_Naught is faith but faith in thee_.

Damon's song fully confirmed in Timbrio and in Silerio the good opinion

they had formed of the rare wit of the shepherds who were there; and

the more when, at the persuasion of Thyrsis and of Elicio, the now free

and disdainful Lauso, to the sound of Arsindo's flute, released his

voice in verses such as these:

LAUSO.

Fickle Love, disdain thy chains

Broke, and to my memory

Hath restored the liberty

Born from absence of thy pains;

Let him, whoso would, accuse

My faith as capricious, weak,

And as best he thinketh, seek

To convert me to his views.

I my love did soon forsake,

He may say, my faith was hung

By a hair so finely strung

That it e'en a breath could break;

All the plaints Love did provoke,

All my sighs, did feignèd prove,

Nay the very shafts of Love

Did not pierce beneath my cloke.

For no torture 'tis for me

To be callèd fickle, vain,

If I may behold again

My neck from the mad yoke free;

Who Silena is, I know,

And how strange her mood hath been,

How her peaceful face serene

Promise and deceit doth show.

To her wondrous dignity,

To her fair and downcast eyes,

'Tis not much to yield the prize

Of the will, whose'er it be,

For at first sight we adore;

Now we know her, fain would we

Life and more, if more could be,

Give to see her nevermore.

Ofttimes to her have I given

Heaven's Silena and my dear

For her name--she was so fair

That she seemed the child of Heaven;

Better now her name shall be--

Now that I need fear no more--

Not Silena, Heaven's flower,

But false Siren of the sea.