GALERCIO TOGELASIA.
Angel in the guise of maid,Fury with a lady's face,Cold, and yet a glowing blaze,Wherein my soul is assayed;Hearken to the bitter wrong,By thy lack of passion wrought,Which hath from my soul been broughtAnd set these sad lines among.I write, not to move thine heart,Since against thy breast of mailPrayers nor cleverness avail,Loyal service hath no part;But that thou the wrong mayst seeWhich thou dost inflict, I write,And how ill thou dost requiteAll the worth there is in thee.Just it is that libertyThou shouldst praise, and thou art right,Yet, behold, 'tis held uprightOnly by thy cruelty;Just it is not to ordainThat thou wouldst be free from strife,And yet thine unfettered lifeOn so many deaths sustain.That all men should love thee wellDo not fancy 'tis dishonour,Do not fancy that thine honourIn the use of scorn doth dwell;Nay, the cruelty restrainOf the wrongs that thou dost do,And be pleased with lovers few,Thus a better name attain.For thy rigour doth proclaimThat wild beasts did give thee birth,That the mountains of the earthFormed thee, harsh, whom none may tame.For therein is thy delight,In the moorland and the mead,Where thou canst not find indeedOne to set thy wish alight.Once I saw thee all alone,Seated in a pleasant glade,And, as I beheld, I said:''Tis a statue of hard stone.'Thou didst move and thus my viewThou didst prove to be mistaken,'Yet in mood,' I said, unshaken,'She is more than statue, true.'Would that thou a statue were,Made of stone, for then I mightHope that Heaven for my delightWould thee change to woman fair!For Pygmalion could not beSo devoted to his queen,As I am and aye have beenAnd shall ever be to thee.Thou repayest, as is due,Good and ill, I murmur not,Glory for the good I wrought,Suffering for the ill I do.And this truth is shown abroadIn the way thou treatest me,Life it gives me thee to see,Thou dost slay me by thy mood.Of that breast which maketh boldLove's encounters to despise,May the fire that in my sighsGloweth, somewhat melt the cold,May my tears this boon obtain,Tears that never, never, rest,That for one short hour thy breastMay be sweet and kind again.Well I know thou wilt declareThat I am too long; 'tis true,My desire make less, I tooThen will lesser make my prayer;But according to the wayThou dost deal with my requests,Thee it little interestsWhether less or more I pray.If I might in words essayTo reproach thy cruelty,And that sign point out to theeWhich our weakness doth display,I would say, when I did learnWhat thou art, no longer blind:'Thou art rock, bear this in mind,And to rock thou must return.'Whether rock or steel thou art,Adamant or marble hard,Steel, I am thy loving bard,Rock, I love with all my heart;Angel veiled, or fury, knowThat the truth is all too plain,I live, by the angel slain,By the fury brought to woe.
Angel in the guise of maid,Fury with a lady's face,Cold, and yet a glowing blaze,Wherein my soul is assayed;Hearken to the bitter wrong,By thy lack of passion wrought,Which hath from my soul been broughtAnd set these sad lines among.I write, not to move thine heart,Since against thy breast of mailPrayers nor cleverness avail,Loyal service hath no part;But that thou the wrong mayst seeWhich thou dost inflict, I write,And how ill thou dost requiteAll the worth there is in thee.Just it is that libertyThou shouldst praise, and thou art right,Yet, behold, 'tis held uprightOnly by thy cruelty;Just it is not to ordainThat thou wouldst be free from strife,And yet thine unfettered lifeOn so many deaths sustain.That all men should love thee wellDo not fancy 'tis dishonour,Do not fancy that thine honourIn the use of scorn doth dwell;Nay, the cruelty restrainOf the wrongs that thou dost do,And be pleased with lovers few,Thus a better name attain.For thy rigour doth proclaimThat wild beasts did give thee birth,That the mountains of the earthFormed thee, harsh, whom none may tame.For therein is thy delight,In the moorland and the mead,Where thou canst not find indeedOne to set thy wish alight.Once I saw thee all alone,Seated in a pleasant glade,And, as I beheld, I said:''Tis a statue of hard stone.'Thou didst move and thus my viewThou didst prove to be mistaken,'Yet in mood,' I said, unshaken,'She is more than statue, true.'Would that thou a statue were,Made of stone, for then I mightHope that Heaven for my delightWould thee change to woman fair!For Pygmalion could not beSo devoted to his queen,As I am and aye have beenAnd shall ever be to thee.Thou repayest, as is due,Good and ill, I murmur not,Glory for the good I wrought,Suffering for the ill I do.And this truth is shown abroadIn the way thou treatest me,Life it gives me thee to see,Thou dost slay me by thy mood.Of that breast which maketh boldLove's encounters to despise,May the fire that in my sighsGloweth, somewhat melt the cold,May my tears this boon obtain,Tears that never, never, rest,That for one short hour thy breastMay be sweet and kind again.Well I know thou wilt declareThat I am too long; 'tis true,My desire make less, I tooThen will lesser make my prayer;But according to the wayThou dost deal with my requests,Thee it little interestsWhether less or more I pray.If I might in words essayTo reproach thy cruelty,And that sign point out to theeWhich our weakness doth display,I would say, when I did learnWhat thou art, no longer blind:'Thou art rock, bear this in mind,And to rock thou must return.'Whether rock or steel thou art,Adamant or marble hard,Steel, I am thy loving bard,Rock, I love with all my heart;Angel veiled, or fury, knowThat the truth is all too plain,I live, by the angel slain,By the fury brought to woe.
Angel in the guise of maid,Fury with a lady's face,Cold, and yet a glowing blaze,Wherein my soul is assayed;Hearken to the bitter wrong,By thy lack of passion wrought,Which hath from my soul been broughtAnd set these sad lines among.
I write, not to move thine heart,Since against thy breast of mailPrayers nor cleverness avail,Loyal service hath no part;But that thou the wrong mayst seeWhich thou dost inflict, I write,And how ill thou dost requiteAll the worth there is in thee.
Just it is that libertyThou shouldst praise, and thou art right,Yet, behold, 'tis held uprightOnly by thy cruelty;Just it is not to ordainThat thou wouldst be free from strife,And yet thine unfettered lifeOn so many deaths sustain.
That all men should love thee wellDo not fancy 'tis dishonour,Do not fancy that thine honourIn the use of scorn doth dwell;Nay, the cruelty restrainOf the wrongs that thou dost do,And be pleased with lovers few,Thus a better name attain.
For thy rigour doth proclaimThat wild beasts did give thee birth,That the mountains of the earthFormed thee, harsh, whom none may tame.For therein is thy delight,In the moorland and the mead,Where thou canst not find indeedOne to set thy wish alight.
Once I saw thee all alone,Seated in a pleasant glade,And, as I beheld, I said:''Tis a statue of hard stone.'Thou didst move and thus my viewThou didst prove to be mistaken,'Yet in mood,' I said, unshaken,'She is more than statue, true.'
Would that thou a statue were,Made of stone, for then I mightHope that Heaven for my delightWould thee change to woman fair!For Pygmalion could not beSo devoted to his queen,As I am and aye have beenAnd shall ever be to thee.
Thou repayest, as is due,Good and ill, I murmur not,Glory for the good I wrought,Suffering for the ill I do.And this truth is shown abroadIn the way thou treatest me,Life it gives me thee to see,Thou dost slay me by thy mood.
Of that breast which maketh boldLove's encounters to despise,May the fire that in my sighsGloweth, somewhat melt the cold,May my tears this boon obtain,Tears that never, never, rest,That for one short hour thy breastMay be sweet and kind again.
Well I know thou wilt declareThat I am too long; 'tis true,My desire make less, I tooThen will lesser make my prayer;But according to the wayThou dost deal with my requests,Thee it little interestsWhether less or more I pray.
If I might in words essayTo reproach thy cruelty,And that sign point out to theeWhich our weakness doth display,I would say, when I did learnWhat thou art, no longer blind:'Thou art rock, bear this in mind,And to rock thou must return.'
Whether rock or steel thou art,Adamant or marble hard,Steel, I am thy loving bard,Rock, I love with all my heart;Angel veiled, or fury, knowThat the truth is all too plain,I live, by the angel slain,By the fury brought to woe.
Galercio's verses seemed better to Thyrsis than Gelasia's disposition, and wishing to show them to Elicio, he saw him so changed in hue and countenance that he seemed the image of death. He went up to him, and when he wished to ask him if any grief were distressing him, there was no need to await his reply in order to learn the cause of his pain, for straightway he heard it announced amongst all those who were there. Now the two shepherds who helped Galercio, were friends of the Lusitanian shepherd to whom the venerable Aurelio had agreed to marry Galatea, and they were coming to tell him how the fortunate shepherd would come in three days' time to his village to conclude that most happy betrothal. And straightway Thyrsis saw that this news must needs cause in Elicio's soul newer and stranger symptoms than had been caused; but nevertheless he went up to him and said to him:
'Now it is necessary, good friend, that you should know how to make use of the discretion you have, since in the greatest peril hearts show themselves courageous, and I assure you that there is something assures me that this business must have a better end than you think. Dissemble and be silent, for if Galatea's will takes no pleasure in conforming wholly with her father's, you will satisfy yours, by availing yourself of ours, and also of all the favour that can be offered you by all the shepherds there are on the banks of this river, and on those of the gentle Henares. And this favour I offer you, for I feel quite sure thatthe desire all know I have to serve them, will constrain them to act so that what I promise you here may not turn out vain.'
Elicio remained amazed, seeing the generous and true offer of Thyrsis, and could not nor did he know how to reply to him save by embracing him closely and saying to him:
'May Heaven reward you, discreet Thyrsis, for the consolation you have given me, by which and by Galatea's will, which, as I think, will not differ from ours, I understand without doubt that so notorious a wrong as is being done to all these banks in banishing from them the rare beauty of Galatea, shall not go further.'
And, as he turned to embrace him, the lost colour returned to his face. But it did not return to Galatea's, to whom hearing of the shepherds' embassy was as if she heard her death-sentence. Elicio noted it all, and Erastro could not ignore it, nor yet the discreet Florisa, nor indeed was the news pleasing to any of those who were there. At this hour the sun was already descending by his wonted course, and therefore for this reason, as well as because they saw that the love-sick Lenio had followed Gelasia, and there was nothing else left to do there, all that company, taking Galercio and Maurisa with them, bent their steps towards the village, and on coming close to it, Elicio and Erastro remained in their huts, and with them remained Thyrsis, Damon, Orompo, Crisio, Marsilio, Arsindo and Orfenio, with some other shepherds. The fortunate Timbrio, Silerio, Nisida, and Blanca took leave of them all with courteous words and offers, telling them that on the morrow they intended to set out for the city of Toledo, where the end of their journey was to be; and embracing all who were remaining with Elicio, they departed with Aurelio, with whom went Florisa, Teolinda and Maurisa, and the sad Galatea, so heart-broken and thoughtful that with all her discretion she could not fail to give tokens of strange unhappiness. With Daranio departed his wife Silveria and the fair Belisa. Thereon the night closed in, and it seemed to Elicio that all the roads to his pleasure were closed with it, and had it not been for welcoming with cheerful mien the guests he had in his hut that night, he would have spent it so badly that he would have despaired of seeing the day. The wretched Erastro was passing through the same trouble, though with more relief, for, without regarding anyone, with loud cries and piteous words he cursed his fortune and Aurelio's hasty resolve. This being so, when the shepherds had satisfied their hunger with some rustic victuals, and some of them had yielded themselves to the arms of peaceful sleep, the fair Maurisa came to Elicio's hut, and finding Elicio at the door of his hut, took him aside and gave him a paper, telling him it was from Galatea, and that he should read it at once, for, since she was bringing it at such an hour, he should understand that what it must contain was important. The shepherd, wondering at Maurisa's coming, and more at seeing in his hands a paper from his shepherdess, could not rest for a moment until he read it, and entering his hut, read it by the light of a splinter of resinous pine, and saw that it read thus:
GALATEA TOELICIO.
'In my father's hasty resolve lies the resolve I have taken to write to you, and in the violence he uses towards me lies the violence I have used towards myself to reach this extreme. You well know in what an extreme pass I am, and I know well that I would gladly see myself in a better, that I might reward you somewhat for the much I know I owe you. But if Heaven wishes me to remain in this debt, complain of it, and not of my will. My father's I would gladly change, if it were possible, but I see that it is not, and so I do not try it. If you think of any remedy in that quarter, so long as prayers have no part in it, put it into effect with the consideration you owe to your reputation and hold due to my honour. He whom they are giving me as husband, he who shall give me burial, is coming the day after to-morrow; little time remains for you to take counsel, though sufficient remains to me for repentance. I say no more save that Maurisa is faithful and I unhappy.'
The words of Galatea's letter set Elicio in strange confusion, as it seemed to him a new thing both that she should write to him, since up till then she had never done so, and that she should bid him seek a remedy for the wrong that was being done her. But, passing over all these things, he paused only to think how he should fulfil what was bidden him, though he should hazard therein a thousand lives, if he had so many. And as no other remedy offered itself to him save that which he was awaiting from his friends, he made bold, trusting in them, to reply to Galatea by a letter he gave to Maurisa, which ran in this manner:
ELICIO TOGALATEA.
'If the violence of my strength came up to the desire I have to serve you, fair Galatea, neither that which your father uses towards you, nor the greatest in the world, would have power to injure you. But, be that as it may, you will see now, if the wrong goes further, that I do not lag behind in doing your bidding in the best way the case may demand. Let the faithfulness you have known in me, assure you of this, and show a good face to present fortune, trusting in coming prosperity, for Heaven which has moved you to remember me and write to me, will give me strength to show that I merit in part the favour you have done me, for, if only it be obeying you, neitherfear nor dread will have power to prevent me putting into effect what befits your happiness, and is of such import to mine. No more, for what more there is to be in this, you will learn from Maurisa, to whom I have given account of it; and if your opinion does not agree with mine, let me be informed, in order that time may not pass by, and with it the season of our happiness, which may Heaven give you as it can and as your worth deserves.'
Having given this letter to Maurisa, as has been said, he told her also how he was intending to assemble as many shepherds as he could, and that all should go together to speak to Galatea's father, asking him as a signal favour to be so kind as not to banish from those meadows her peerless beauty; and, should this not suffice, he was intending to place such obstacles and terrors before the Lusitanian shepherd that he himself would say that he was not content with what had been agreed; and, should prayers and stratagems be of no avail, he was resolved to use violence and thereby set her at liberty, and that with the consideration for her reputation which could be expected from one who loved her so much. With this resolve Maurisa went away, and the same was taken straightway by all the shepherds that were with Elicio, for he gave to them account of his intentions, asking for favour and counsel in so difficult a plight. Straightway Thyrsis and Damon offered to be those who should speak to Galatea's father. Lauso, Arsindo, and Erastro, with the four friends, Orompo, Marsilio, Crisio and Orfenio, promised to look for their friends and assemble them for the following day, and to carry out with them whatsoever should be bidden them by Elicio. In discussing what was best suited to the case, and in taking this resolve, the greater part of that night passed away. And, the morning having come, all the shepherds departed to fulfil what they had promised, save Thyrsis and Damon, who remained with Elicio. And that same day Maurisa came again to tell Elicio how Galatea was resolved to follow his opinion in everything; Elicio took leave of her with new promises and confidences; and with joyous countenance and strange gaiety he was awaiting the coming day to see the good or evil issue fortune was bestowing on his work. With this night came on, and, Elicio repairing with Damon and Thyrsis to his hut, they spent almost all of it in testing and taking note of all the difficulties that could arise in that affair, if perchance Aurelio was not moved by the arguments Thyrsis intended to bring before him. But Elicio, in order to give the shepherds opportunity for repose, went out of his hut, and ascended a green hill that rose before it; and there, girt round with solitude, he was revolving in his memory all that he had suffered for Galatea, and what he feared hewould suffer, if Heaven did not favour his plans. And without leaving this train of thought, to the sound of a soft breeze that was gently blowing, with a voice sweet and low he began to sing in this wise:
ELICIO.
If 'midst this boiling sea and gulf profoundOf madness, 'midst the tempest's threatening strife,I from so cruel a blow rescue my life,And reach the haven, fortunate and sound,Each hand uplifted to the air around,With humble soul and will contented, IShall make Love know my thanks, and Heaven on high,For the choice bliss wherewith my life is crowned.Then fortunate shall I my sighings call,My tears shall I account as full of pleasure,The flame wherein I burn, refreshing cold.Love's wounds, I shall declare, are to the soulSweet, to the body wholesome, that no measureCan mete his bliss, which boundless I behold.
If 'midst this boiling sea and gulf profoundOf madness, 'midst the tempest's threatening strife,I from so cruel a blow rescue my life,And reach the haven, fortunate and sound,Each hand uplifted to the air around,With humble soul and will contented, IShall make Love know my thanks, and Heaven on high,For the choice bliss wherewith my life is crowned.Then fortunate shall I my sighings call,My tears shall I account as full of pleasure,The flame wherein I burn, refreshing cold.Love's wounds, I shall declare, are to the soulSweet, to the body wholesome, that no measureCan mete his bliss, which boundless I behold.
If 'midst this boiling sea and gulf profoundOf madness, 'midst the tempest's threatening strife,I from so cruel a blow rescue my life,And reach the haven, fortunate and sound,
Each hand uplifted to the air around,With humble soul and will contented, IShall make Love know my thanks, and Heaven on high,For the choice bliss wherewith my life is crowned.
Then fortunate shall I my sighings call,My tears shall I account as full of pleasure,The flame wherein I burn, refreshing cold.
Love's wounds, I shall declare, are to the soulSweet, to the body wholesome, that no measureCan mete his bliss, which boundless I behold.
When Elicio ended his song, the cool dawn, with her fair cheeks of many hues, was beginning to reveal herself by the Eastern gates, gladdening the earth, sprinkling the grass with pearls, and painting the meadows; whose longed-for approach the chattering birds straightway began to greet with thousand kinds of harmonious songs. Thereon Elicio arose and, stretching his eyes over the spacious plain, discovered not far away two troops of shepherds, who, as it seemed to him, were making their way towards his hut, as was the truth, for he straightway recognised that they were his friends Lauso and Arsindo with others whom they were bringing with them. And the others were Orompo, Marsilio, Crisio and Orfenio, with as many of their friends as they could assemble. Elicio then recognising them, descended from the hill to go and welcome them; and when they came near to the hut, Thyrsis and Damon, who were going to look for Elicio, were already outside it. In the meantime all the shepherds came up and welcomed each other with joyous countenance. And straightway Lauso, turning to Elicio, said to him:
'In the company we bring, you can see, friend Elicio, whether we are beginning to give tokens of our wish to fulfil the word we gave you; all whom you see here, come with the desire to serve you, though they should hazard their lives therein. What is wanting is that you should not be wanting in what may be most essential.'
Elicio, with the best words he could, thanked Lauso and the others for the favour they were doing him, and straightway told them all that it had been agreed with Thyrsis and Damon to do in order to succeed in that enterprise. What Elicio wassaying seemed good to the shepherds; and so, without more delay, they made their way towards the village, Thyrsis and Damon going in front, and all the others following them, who might be some twenty shepherds, the bravest and most graceful that could be found on all the banks of the Tagus, and all were minded, if the reasonings of Thyrsis did not move Aurelio to act reasonably in what they asked him, to use force instead of reason, nor to consent that Galatea should yield herself to the foreign shepherd; whereat Erastro was as happy, as if a fair issue to that demand were to redound to his happiness alone, for, rather than lose sight of Galatea, absent and unhappy, he held it a good bargain that Elicio should win her, as he thought he would, since Galatea must needs be so much indebted to him.
The end of this loving tale and history, with what happened to Galercio, Lenio and Gelasia, Arsindo, Maurisa, Grisaldo, Artandro and Rosaura, Marsilio and Belisa, with other things which happened to the shepherds mentioned hitherto, is promised in the Second Part of this history. Which, if it sees this First received with favourable wishes, will have the boldness shortly to come out in order to be seen and judged by the eyes and understanding of mankind.
[The following brief notes, based on Barrera's commentary, and corrected or supplemented in the light of subsequent research, have been drawn up in the hope that they may be of use to the general reader. In a certain number of cases it has, unfortunately, been impossible to trace the writings of those mentioned in the text. I should gratefully receive any information concerning the men or their works. In dealing with famous authors like Lope de Vega or Góngora, whose subsequent careers have fulfilled Cervantes's prophecies, it has been thought unnecessary to give details which can be found in every history of Spanish literature. It has occasionally happened that a writer is made the subject of a longer note than his actual importance might seem, at first sight, to deserve. The justification for this lies in the fact that such minor authors are more or less intimately associated with Cervantes, or that the mention of their names affords a convenient opportunity for discussing some point of interest in connexion with his life or writings.For the sake of convenience in referring from one author to another, the notes to theCanto de CalÃopehave been numbered consecutively throughout. J. F.-K.]
[The following brief notes, based on Barrera's commentary, and corrected or supplemented in the light of subsequent research, have been drawn up in the hope that they may be of use to the general reader. In a certain number of cases it has, unfortunately, been impossible to trace the writings of those mentioned in the text. I should gratefully receive any information concerning the men or their works. In dealing with famous authors like Lope de Vega or Góngora, whose subsequent careers have fulfilled Cervantes's prophecies, it has been thought unnecessary to give details which can be found in every history of Spanish literature. It has occasionally happened that a writer is made the subject of a longer note than his actual importance might seem, at first sight, to deserve. The justification for this lies in the fact that such minor authors are more or less intimately associated with Cervantes, or that the mention of their names affords a convenient opportunity for discussing some point of interest in connexion with his life or writings.
For the sake of convenience in referring from one author to another, the notes to theCanto de CalÃopehave been numbered consecutively throughout. J. F.-K.]