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.

Earnest words, frivolities, Gazing eyes and ardent pen Of the lover, blind and vain,-- Take a countless sum of these, And the last is ever first; Whoso hath in love surpassed, As the first loved, e'en at last Is by her disdain accursed.

How much fairer would we deem Our Silena's beauteous grace, If her wisdom and her ways Did her fairness but beseem! She discretion hath at will, But a halter 'tis to slay The presumption of her way, For she useth it so ill.

I speak not with shameless tongue, For it were but passion wild, But I speak as one beguiled, Who hath suffered grievous wrong; Passion doth no more me blind, Nor desire that she should wrong Suffer, for always my tongue Was in reason's bonds confined.

Her caprices manifold, And her moods that ever change, From her every hour estrange Those who were her friends of old; Since Silena foes hath made In the many ways we see, Wholly good she cannot be, Or they must be wholly bad.

Lauso ended his song, and though he thought that no one understood him, through ignorance of Silena's disguised name, more than three of those who were there knew her, and even marvelled that Lauso's modest behaviour should have gone so far as to attack anyone, especially the disguised shepherdess with whom they had seen him so much in love. But in the opinion of his friend Damon he was fully excused, for he was acquainted with Silena's conduct, and knew how she had conducted herself towards Lauso, and wondered at what he left unsaid. Lauso finished, as has been said; and as Galatea had heard of the charm of Nisida's voice, she wished to sing first, so as to constrain her to do the same. And for this reason, before any other shepherd could begin, beckoning to Arsindo to continue sounding his flute, to its sound with her exquisite voice she sang in this wise:

GALATEA. E'en as Love ever seeks the soul to entame, Tempting it by the semblance of delight, E'en so she from Love's deadly pangs in flight Turneth, who knows its name bestowed by fame.

The breast that doth oppose his amorous flame, The breast with honourable resistance armed, By Love's unkindness is but little harmed, Little his fire and rigour doth inflame.

Secure is she who never was beloved, Nor could love, from that tongue which in dispraise Of her honour, with subtle glow doth gleam.

But if to love and not to love have proved Fruitful in harm, how shall she spend her days Who honour dearer e'en than life doth deem?

It could easily be seen in Galatea's song that she was replying to Lauso's malicious one, and that she was not against unfettered wills, but against the malicious tongues and wronged souls which, in not gaining what they desire, change the love they once showed to a malicious and detestable hatred, as she fancied in Lauso's case; but perhaps she would have escaped from this error, if she had known Lauso's good disposition, and had not been ignorant of Silena's evil one. As soon as Galatea ceased to sing, she begged Nisida with courteous words to do the same. She, as she was as courteous as beautiful, without letting herself be pressed, to the sound of Florisa's pipe sang in this fashion:

NISIDA. Bravely I took my courage as defence In the dread conflict and onslaught of Love, My boldness bravely raised to Heaven above Against the rigour of the clear offence.

But yet so overwhelming and intense The battery, and withal so weak my power That, though Love seized me not, in one short hour Love brought me to confess his power immense.

O'er worth, o'er honour, o'er a mind discreet, Shy modesty, a bosom of disdain, Love doth with ease achieve the victory;

Wherefore, in order to escape defeat, Strength from no words of wisdom can we gain, Unto this truth an eye-witness am I.

When Nisida ceased to sing and to fill with admiration Galatea and those who had been listening to her, they were already quite near the spot where they had determined to pass the noon-tide hour. But in that short time Belisa had time to fulfil Silveria's request, which was that she should sing something; and she, accompanied by the sound of Arsindo's flute, sang what follows:

BELISA. Fancy, that is fancy-free, Listen to the reason why Our fame groweth steadily, Pass the vain affection by, Mother of all injury; For whene'er the soul doth load Itself with some loving load, Bane that takes the life away, Mixed with juice of bitter bay, Is to it but pleasing food.

But our precious liberty Should not bartered be nor sold For the greatest quantity Of the best refinèd gold, Best in worth and quality; Shall we bring ourselves to bear Such a loss and heed the prayer Of a lover whom we scorn, If all blessings ever born Do not with such bliss compare?

If the grief we cannot bear When the body, free from love, Is confined in prison drear, Shall the pain not greater prove, When the very soul is there? Pain 'twill be of such a kind That no remedy we find For such ill in patience, time, Worth, or learning in its prime, Naught save death alone is kind.

Wherefore let my healthy mood From this madness flee away, Leave behind so false a good, Let my free will ever sway Every fancy as it would; Let my tender neck and free Never yield itself to be Placed beneath the loving yoke, Whereby peace is, at a stroke, Slain, and banished liberty.

The shepherdess's verses of freedom reached the soul of the hapless Marsilio, by reason of the little hope her words held out that her deeds would grow better; but as the faith with which he loved her was so firm, the noteworthy proofs of freedom he had heard uttered, could not but keep him as much without it as he had been before. At this point the road leading to the stream of palms ended, and though they had not had the intention of spending the noon-tide heat there, when they reached it and saw the comfort of the beautiful spot, it would have of itself compelled them not to go further. When they had come to it then, straightway the venerable Aurelio commanded all to seat themselves beside the clear and glassy stream, which was flowing in amongst the short grass, and had its birth at the foot of a very tall and ancient palm (for there being on all the banks of the Tagus only that one, and another which was beside it, that place and stream was called "of the palms"), and after sitting down, they were served by Aurelio's shepherds with more good-will and simplicity than costly victuals, satisfying their thirst with the clear cool waters that the pure stream offered them. And on ending the short and pleasant repast, some of the shepherds separated and departed to seek some shady place apart, where they might make up for the unslept hours of the past night; and there remained alone only those of Aurelio's company and village with Timbrio, Silerio, Nisida and Blanca, Thyrsis and Damon, to whom it appeared to be better to enjoy the fair converse that was expected there, than any other enjoyment that sleep could offer them. Aurelio then, guessing and almost knowing this their purpose, said to them:

'It will be well, sirs, that we, who are here, since we have not wished to yield ourselves to sweet sleep, should not fail to make use of this time we steal from it in something that may be more to our pleasure, and what, it seems to me, will not fail to give it us, is that each, as best he can, should here show the sharpness of his wits, propounding some question, or riddle, to whom the companion who may be at his side may be forced to reply; since with this pastime two things will be gained--one to spend with less tedium the hours we shall be here, the other, not to weary our ears so much with always hearing lamentations of love, and love-sick dirges.'

All straightway fell in with Aurelio's wish, and without any of them leaving the place where they were, the first who began to question was Aurelio himself, speaking in this wise:

AURELIO. Who is he, that mighty one, That from East to farthest West Winneth fame and high renown? Sometimes strong and self-possessed, Sometimes weak with courage gone; Health he gives and takes away, Strength on many every day He bestows or doth withhold, Stronger he when he is old Than when youth is bright and gay.

Changing where he changeth not By a strange preëminence, Strong men tremble, by him caught, He hath rarest eloquence Unto sullen dumbness brought; He his being and his name Measureth in different ways, From a thousand lands of praise He is wont to take his fame.

He unarmed hath conquerèd Armèd men, as needs he must, Who hath dealt with him is sped, Who would bring him to the dust, To the dust is brought instead; 'Tis a thing that doth astound That a champion should be found, In the field and in the town, 'Gainst a chief of such renown, Though he soon shall bite the ground.

The answering of this question fell to the old shepherd Arsindo, who was beside Aurelio; and having for a little while considered what it could denote, at last he said to him:

'It seems to me, Aurelio, that our age compels us to be more enamoured of that which your question denotes than of the most graceful shepherdess that might present herself to us, for, if I am not mistaken, the mighty and renowned one you mention is wine, and all the attributes you have given him tally with it.'

'You speak truth, Arsindo,' replied Aurelio, 'and I am inclined to say that I am sorry to have propounded a question which has been solved with much ease; but do you tell yours, for at your side you have one who will be able to unravel it for you, however knotty it may be.'

'I agree,' said Arsindo; and straightway he propounded the following:

ARSINDO. Who is he that loseth hue Where he most is wont to thrive, In a moment doth revive And his colour takes anew? In the birth hour he is grey, Afterwards black as a crow, Last, so ruddy is his glow That it maketh all men gay.

Laws nor charters doth he keep, To the flames a faithful friend, Oftentimes he doth attend E'en where lords and princes sleep; Dead he manhood doth assume, Living takes a woman's name, He at heart is lurid flame But in semblance deepest gloom.

It was Damon who was at Arsindo's side, and scarcely had the latter finished his question, when he said to him:

'It seems to me, Arsindo, that your query is not so dark as the thing it denotes, for if I am not wrong in it, it is charcoal of which you say that when dead it is called masculine, and when glowing and alive _brasa_,[219] which is a feminine noun, and all the other parts suit it in every respect, as this does; and if you are in the same plight as Aurelio, by reason of the ease with which your question has been understood, I am going to keep you company in it, since Thyrsis, to whom it falls to answer me, will make us equal.'

And straightway he spoke his:

DAMON. Who is she of courtly grace, Well-adorned, a dainty dame, Timorous, yet bold of face, Modest she, yet lacking shame, Pleasant, yet she doth displease? When in numbers, to astound, Masculine their name doth sound, And it is a certain thing That amongst them is the king, And with all men they are found.

'Verily, friend Damon,' said Thyrsis forthwith, 'your challenge comes true, and you pay the forfeit that Aurelio and Arsindo pay, if any there be; for I tell you I know that what your riddle conceals is a letter,[220] and a pack of cards.'

Damon admitted that Thyrsis was right. And straightway Thyrsis propounded his riddle thus:

THYRSIS. Who is she that is all eyes, All eyes she from head to foot, And, although she seeks it not, Sometimes causeth lovers' sighs? Quarrels too she doth appease, Though indeed she knows not why, And although she is all eye, Very few the things she sees. She doth call herself a grief Counted mortal, good and dire Evil worketh, and doth fire Love, and to love brings relief.

Thyrsis's riddle puzzled Elicio, for it was his turn to answer it, and he was on the point of 'giving up,' as the saying is; but in a little while he managed to say that it was jealousy, and, Thyrsis admitting it, Elicio straightway propounded the following:

ELICIO. 'Tis obscure, and yet 'tis clear, Thousand opposites containing, Truth to us at last explaining, Which it hides from far and near; Born at times from beauty rare Or from lofty fantasies, Unto strife it giveth rise, Though it deals with things of air.

Unto all its name is known, From the children to the old, 'Tis in numbers manifold, Divers are the lords they own; Every beldame doth possess One of them to make her gay, Things of pleasure for a day, Full of joy or weariness.

And to rob them of their sense Men of wisdom keep awake, Whatsoe'er the pains they take, Some are doomed to impotence; Sometimes foolish, sometimes witty; Easy, or with tangles fraught, Whether naught it be or not, Say, what is this thing so pretty?

Timbrio could not hit upon the thing which Elicio's question denoted, and he almost began to be ashamed at seeing that he delayed longer in answering than any one else, but not even this consideration made him come to a better perception of it; and he delayed so long that Galatea, who was after Nisida, said:

'If it is allowed to break the order which is given, and the one who should first know may reply, I say for my part that I know what the riddle propounded denotes, and I am ready to solve it, if señor Timbrio gives me leave.'

'Certainly, fair Galatea,' replied Timbrio, 'for I know that just as I lack, so you have a superabundance of, wit, to solve greater difficulties; but nevertheless I wish you to be patient until Elicio repeats it, and if this time I do not hit it, the opinion I have of my wit and yours, will be confirmed with more truth.'

Elicio repeated his question, and straightway Timbrio solved its meaning, saying:

'With the very thing by which I thought your query was obscured, Elicio, it appears to me to be solved, for the last line says, that they are to say what is this thing so pretty. And so I answer you in what you ask me, and say that your question means that which we mean by a pretty thing;[221] and do not be surprised that I have been long in answering, for, if I had answered sooner, I would have been more surprised at my wit; which will show what it is in the small skill of my question, which is this:

TIMBRIO. Who is he who to his pain Placeth his feet in the eyes, And although no hurt arise, Makes them sing with might and main? And to pull them out is pleasure, Though at times, who doeth so, Doth by no means ease his woe, But achieveth more displeasure.'

It fell to Nisida to reply to Timbrio's question, but neither she nor Galatea who followed her were able to guess it. And Orompo, seeing that the shepherdesses were wearying themselves in thinking what it denoted, said to them:

'Do not tire yourselves, ladies, nor weary your minds in solving this riddle, for it might well be that neither of you in all her life has seen the figure that the question conceals, and so it is no wonder that you should not hit upon it; for if it had been of a different kind, we were quite sure, as regards your minds, that in a shorter time you would have solved others more difficult. And therefore, with your leave, I am going to reply to Timbrio, and tell him that his query denotes a man in fetters, since when he draws his feet from those eyes he speaks of, it is either to set him free or to take him to execution; so that you may see, shepherdesses, if I was right in thinking that perhaps neither of you had seen in all her life jails or prisons.'

'I for my part can say,' said Galatea, 'that never have I seen any one imprisoned.'

Nisida and Blanca said the same. And straightway Nisida propounded her question in this form:

NISIDA. Fire it biteth, and its bite To its victim harm and good Bringeth; but it doth no blood Lose, although the blade doth smite; But if deep should be the wound, From a hand that is not sure, Death comes to the victim poor, In such death its life is found.

Galatea delayed little in answering Nisida, for straightway she said to her:

'I am quite sure that I am not mistaken, fair Nisida, if I say that your riddle can in no way be better applied than to candle-snuffers and to the taper or candle they snuff; and if this is true, as it is, and you are satisfied with my reply, listen now to mine, which I hope will be solved by your sister with no less ease than I have done yours.'

And straightway she spoke it, and it ran thus:

GALATEA. Children three, who love inspire, And the children of one mother, One was grandson of his brother, And another was his sire; These three children did distress And o'erwhelm her with such woes, That they gave her countless blows, Showing thus their skilfulness.

Blanca was considering what Galatea's riddle could denote, when they saw two gallant shepherds crossing at a run near the place where they were, showing by the fury with which they were running that something important constrained them to move their steps with such speed, and straightway at the same moment they heard some mournful cries, as of persons seeking help; and on this alarm all arose and followed the direction whence the cries sounded; and in a few steps they issued from that delightful spot and came out on the bank of the cool Tagus, which, close at hand, was flowing gently by. And scarcely did they see the river, when the strangest thing they could imagine was presented to their gaze; for they saw two shepherdesses seemingly of noble grace, who were holding a shepherd fast by the lappets of his coat with all the strength in their power, in order that the poor fellow might not drown himself, for he already had half his body in the river, and his head below the water, struggling with his feet to release himself from the shepherdesses, who were hindering his desperate purpose. They were already almost on the point of letting him go, being unable to overcome his obstinate determination with their feeble strength. But at this point the two shepherds approached, who had been coming at a run, and seizing the desperate man, drew him out of the water just as all the others were already approaching, astounded at the strange sight, and they were more so, when they learned that the shepherd who wished to drown himself was Artidoro's brother, Galercio, while the shepherdesses were his sister Maurisa and the fair Teolinda; and when these saw Galatea and Florisa, Teolinda ran with tears in her eyes to embrace Galatea, saying:

'Ah, Galatea, sweet friend and lady mine, how has this luckless wretch fulfilled the word she gave you to return to see you and tell you the news of her happiness!'

'I shall be as glad for you to have it, Teolinda,' replied Galatea, 'as you are assured by the good-will you know I have to serve you; but it seems to me that your eyes do not bear out your words, nor indeed do these satisfy me so as to make me imagine a successful issue to your desires.'

Whilst Galatea was thus occupied with Teolinda, Elicio and Artidoro with the other shepherds had stripped Galercio, and as they loosened his coat, which with all his clothes had been wetted, a paper fell from his bosom, which Thyrsis picked up, and, opening it, saw that it was verse; and not being able to read it because it was wet, he placed it on a lofty branch in the sun's ray so that it might dry. On Galercio they placed a cloak of Arsindo's, and the luckless youth was as it were astounded and amazed, without saying a word, though Elicio asked him what was the cause that had brought him to so strange a pass. But his sister Maurisa answered for him, saying:

'Raise your eyes, shepherds, and you will see who is the cause that has set my unfortunate wretch of a brother in so strange and desperate a plight.'

The shepherds raised their eyes at what Maurisa said, and saw a graceful and comely shepherdess on a beetling rock that overhung the river, seated on the same crag, and watching with smiling countenance all that the shepherds were doing. She was straightway recognised by all as the cruel Gelasia.

'That loveless, that thankless girl, sirs,' went on Maurisa, 'is the mortal enemy of this my unhappy brother, who, as all these banks already know and you are not unaware, loves her, worships her and adores her; and in return for the ceaseless services he has always done her, and for the tears that he has shed for her, she this morning, with the most scornful and loveless disdain that could ever be found in cruelty, bade him go from her presence, and never return to her now or henceforth. And my brother wished to obey her so earnestly, that he sought to take away his life, to avoid the occasion of ever transgressing her bidding; and if these shepherds had not by chance come so quickly, the end of my happiness, and the end of my hapless brother's days would by now have come.'

What Maurisa said set all those who listened to her in amazement, and they were more amazed when they saw that the cruel Gelasia, without moving from the spot where she was, and without taking account of all that company who had their eyes set on her, with a strange grace and spirited disdain, drew a small rebeck from her wallet, and stopping to tune it very leisurely, after a little while with a voice of great beauty began to sing in this wise:

GELASIA. The pleasing herbs of the green shady mead, The cooling fountains, who will e'er forsake, And strive no more the fleet hare to o'ertake Or bristling wild-boar, following on with speed?

Who will no more the friendly warblings heed Of the dear, simple birds within the brake? Who in the glowing noon-tide hour will make No more his couch within the woods at need,

That he the fires may follow, and the fears, Jealousies, angers, rages, deaths, and pains, Of traitorous Love, that doth the world torment?

Upon the fields are set my loving cares And have been, rose and jessamine my chains, Free was I born, on freedom am I bent.

Gelasia was singing, and showing in the motion and expression of her face her loveless disposition; but scarcely had she come to the last verse of her song, when she rose with a strange swiftness, and, as if she were fleeing from some terrible thing, she began to hurry down by the crag, leaving the shepherds amazed at her disposition and astounded at her swift course. But straightway they saw what was the cause of it, on seeing the enamoured Lenio, who with dragging step was ascending the same crag, with the intention of coming to where Gelasia was; but she was not willing to wait for him, so as not to fail in a single instance to act in accordance with the cruelty of her purpose. The wearied Lenio came to the summit of the crag, when Gelasia was already at its foot, and seeing that she did not check her steps, but directed them with more haste through the spacious plain, with spent breath and tired spirit he sat down in the same spot where Gelasia had been, and there began with desperate words to curse his fortune, and the hour in which he raised his eyes to gaze on the cruel shepherdess Gelasia, and in that same moment, repenting as it were of what he was saying, he turned to bless his eyes, and to extol the cause that placed him in such a pass. And straightway goaded and urged by a fit of frenzy, he flung his crook far from him, and, stripping off his coat, cast it into the waters of the clear Tagus, which followed close by the foot of the crag. And when the shepherds who were watching him saw this, they believed without a doubt that the violence of his love-passion was depriving him of reason; and so Elicio and Erastro began to ascend the crag to prevent him from doing any other mad act, that might cost him more dear. And though Lenio saw them ascending, he made no other movement save to draw his rebeck from a wallet, and with a new and strange calm sat down again; and turning his face to where his shepherdess heard, he began with a voice mellow and accompanied with tears to sing in this fashion:

LENIO. Who drives thee on, who leadeth thee aside, Who makes thee leave all loving thought behind, Who on thy feet hath rapid pinions tied, Wherewith thou runnest swifter than the wind? Wherefore dost thou my lofty thought deride And think but little of my loyal mind? Why fleest thou from me, why leavest me? Harder than marble to my agony!

Am I perchance so lowly in estate That I may not behold thy eyes so fair, Or poor or niggard? Have I proved ingrate Or false since I beheld their beauty rare? I am in naught changed from my former state, Does not my soul hang ever from thy hair? Then wherefore dost thou go so far from me? Harder than marble to my agony!

Let thy o'erweening pride a warning take, When it beholds my will, once free, subdued, My ancient daring, see, I now forsake, To loving purpose changed my former mood; Behold, the forest life, that doth not make A care of aught, 'gainst Love is nowise good, Now stay thy steps, why wearied should they be? Harder than marble to my agony!

Once I was as thou art, now I behold That I can ne'er be what I was before, The force of my desire doth wax so bold, So great my love, I love myself no more; Love can me now within his prison hold; This is thy palm, thy trophy in the war, Victorious o'er me, dost complain of me? Harder than marble to my agony!

While the hapless shepherd was intoning his piteous plaints, the other shepherds were reproving Galercio for his evil design, condemning the wicked purpose he had displayed. But the despairing youth replied to nothing, whereat Maurisa was not a little distressed, believing that, if left alone, he must carry out his evil thought. In the meantime Galatea and Florisa, going aside with Teolinda, asked her what was the cause of her return, and if by chance she had already heard of her Artidoro. To which she replied weeping:

'I know not what to say to you, friends and ladies mine, save that Heaven wished that I should find Artidoro, to lose him utterly; for you must know that that same unconsiderate and traitorous sister of mine, who was the beginning of my misfortune, has been the cause of the end and termination of my happiness. For learning, as we came with Galercio and Maurisa to their village, that Artidoro was on a mountain not far from there with his flock, she went away to look for him without telling me anything. She found him, and, pretending that she was I (since for this wrong alone Heaven ordained that we should be alike), with little difficulty gave him to understand that the shepherdess who had disdained him in our village was a sister of hers, who was exceedingly like her; in a word, she recounted to him, as though they were hers, all the actions I have done for his sake, and the extremes of grief I have suffered. And as the heart of the shepherd was so tender and loving, with far less than the traitress told him would she have been believed by him, as indeed he did believe her, so much to my hurt, that without waiting for fortune to mingle any new obstacle with his pleasure, straightway at the very moment he gave his hand to Leonarda, to be her lawful husband, believing he was giving it to Teolinda. Here you see, shepherdesses, where the fruit of my tears and sighs has ended; here you see all my hope already torn up by the root; and what I feel most is that it has been by the hand that was most bound to sustain it. Leonarda enjoys Artidoro by means of the false deception I have told you, and although he already knows it, though he must have perceived the trick, he has kept it to himself like a wise man. The tidings of his marriage came straightway to the village, and with them those of the end of my happiness; the stratagem of my sister was also known, who gave as excuse that she saw Galercio, whom she loved so much, going to ruin through the shepherdess Gelasia, and that therefore it seemed to her easier to bring to her will the loving will of Artidoro than Galercio's despairing one, and that since the two were but one as regards outward appearance and nobility, she counted herself happy and fortunate, indeed, with Artidoro's companionship. With this the enemy of my bliss excuses herself, as I have said; and so I, not to see her enjoy that which was rightly due to me, left the village and Artidoro's presence, and accompanied by the saddest fancies that can be fancied, came to give you the news of my misery in the company of Maurisa, who likewise comes with the intention of telling you what Grisaldo has done since he learnt Rosaura's abduction. And this morning at sunrise we fell in with Galercio, who with tender and loving words was urging Gelasia to love him well; but she with the strongest disdain and scorn that can be told, bade him leave her presence, nor dare ever to speak to her. And the hapless shepherd, crushed by so harsh a bidding, and by cruelty so strange, wished to fulfil it, doing what you have seen. All this is what has happened to me, my friends, since I went from your presence. Think now whether I have more to weep for than before, and whether the cause has grown for you to busy yourselves in consoling me, if perchance my woe might admit of consolation.'

Teolinda said no more, for the countless tears that came to her eyes, and the sighs she wrung from her soul, hindered her tongue in its office; and though the tongues of Galatea and Florisa wished to show themselves skilful and eloquent in consoling her, their toil was of little avail. And while this converse was passing between the shepherdesses, the paper which Thyrsis had taken from Galercio's bosom became dry, and being anxious to read it he took it and saw that it ran thus:

GALERCIO TO GELASIA.

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 brought And set these sad lines among.

I write, not to move thine heart, Since against thy breast of mail Prayers nor cleverness avail, Loyal service hath no part; But that thou the wrong mayst see Which thou dost inflict, I write, And how ill thou dost requite All the worth there is in thee.

Just it is that liberty Thou shouldst praise, and thou art right, Yet, behold, 'tis held upright Only by thy cruelty; Just it is not to ordain That thou wouldst be free from strife, And yet thine unfettered life On so many deaths sustain.

That all men should love thee well Do not fancy 'tis dishonour, Do not fancy that thine honour In the use of scorn doth dwell; Nay, the cruelty restrain Of the wrongs that thou dost do, And be pleased with lovers few, Thus a better name attain.

For thy rigour doth proclaim That wild beasts did give thee birth, That the mountains of the earth Formed thee, harsh, whom none may tame. For therein is thy delight, In the moorland and the mead, Where thou canst not find indeed One 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 view Thou 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 might Hope that Heaven for my delight Would thee change to woman fair! For Pygmalion could not be So devoted to his queen, As I am and aye have been And 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 abroad In the way thou treatest me, Life it gives me thee to see, Thou dost slay me by thy mood.

Of that breast which maketh bold Love's encounters to despise, May the fire that in my sighs Gloweth, somewhat melt the cold, May my tears this boon obtain, Tears that never, never, rest, That for one short hour thy breast May be sweet and kind again.

Well I know thou wilt declare That I am too long; 'tis true, My desire make less, I too Then will lesser make my prayer; But according to the way Thou dost deal with my requests, Thee it little interests Whether less or more I pray.

If I might in words essay To reproach thy cruelty, And that sign point out to thee Which our weakness doth display, I would say, when I did learn What 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, know That 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 that the 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 TO ELICIO.

'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 TO GALATEA.

'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, neither fear 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 he would 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 profound Of 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, I Shall 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 soul Sweet, to the body wholesome, that no measure Can 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 was saying 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 the _Canto de Calíope_ have been numbered consecutively throughout. J. F.-K.]

FOOTNOTES:

[117] As the _Canto de Calíope_ professes to deal solely with living poets--_algunos señalados varones que en esta vuestra España viven, y algunos en las apartadas Indias á ella sujetas_--the Diego Mendoza mentioned in the twentyfifth stanza cannot refer to the celebrated historian who died ten years before the _Galatea_ was published. But the above lament for Meliso is unquestionably dedicated to his memory. The phrase _el aprisco veneciano_ is an allusion to Diego Hurtado de Mendoza's embassy in Venice (1539-1547). It is not generally known that Mendoza visited England as special Plenipotentiary in 1537-1538 with the object of arranging two marriages: one between Mary Tudor and Prince Luiz of Portugal, and one between Henry VIII. and Charles V.'s handsome, witty niece, Dorothea of Denmark (afterwards Duchess of Milan), who declined the honour on the ground that she had only one head. Mendoza's mission was a diplomatic failure: nor does he seem to have enjoyed his stay here. He was made much of, was banqueted at Hampton Court, and confessed that life in England was pleasant enough; but he sighed for Barcelona, and was glad to pass on to the Low Countries and thence to Venice. See the _Calendar of State Papers (Spain)_, vol. v. J. F.-K.

[118] Leiva's work would seem to have disappeared. In the _Casa de Memoria_, which forms part of the _Diversas Rimas_ (1591), Espinel refers to an Alonso de Leiva in much the same terms as Cervantes uses here:--

El ánimo gentil, el dulce llanto, El blando estilo, con que enternecido Don Alonso de Leyva quando canta A Venus enamora, á Marte espanta.

[119] Alonso de Ercilla y Zúñiga was born at Madrid in 1533. He was page to Philip II at the latter's marriage with Mary Tudor in Winchester Cathedral. He sailed for South America in 1555, served against the Araucanos under García Hurtado de Mendoza, Marqués de Cañete, quarrelled with a brother officer named Juan de Pineda, was sentenced to death, reprieved at the last moment, and is said to have been exiled to Callao. Ercilla returned to Spain in 1562, bringing with him the First Part of his epic poem, _La Araucana_, which he had composed during his campaigns. The original draft was scribbled on stray pieces of paper and scraps of leather: "que no me costó después poco trabajo juntarlos." This First Part was published at Madrid in 1569: the Second Part appeared in 1578, and the Third in 1590. The author died, a disappointed man, in 1594. For a sound appreciation of his talent see _L'Araucana, poème épique por D. Alonso de Ercilla y Zúñiga. Morceaux choisis précedés d'une étude biographique et littéraire, suivis de notes grammaticales, et de versification et de deux lexiques_ (Paris, 1900) by M. Jean Ducamin. A critical edition of _La Araucana_ by the eminent Chilean scholar, Sr. D. José Toribio Medina, is in preparation.

Cervantes expresses the highest opinion of _La Araucana_ in _Don Quixote_ (Part I., chap. vi.) where he brackets it with Rufo's _Austriada_ and Virués's _Monserrate_:--"These three books," said the curate, "are the best that have been written in Castilian in heroic verse, and they may compare with the most famous of Italy; let them be preserved as the richest treasures of poetry that Spain possesses."

[120] Barrera believed that the reference is to Juan de Silva, Conde de Portalegre, afterwards Governor and Captain-General of the Kingdom of Portugal. A collection of his letters is said to be in the Biblioteca Nacional at Madrid: Silva is further stated to have revised the manuscript of Hurtado de Mendoza's _Historia de la Guerra de Granada_, first published (posthumously) by Luis de Tribaldos de Toledo at Lisbon in 1627. He certainly wrote the introduction to Tribaldos de Toledo's edition.

Juan de Silva, Conde de Portalegre, is said by Jacques-Charles Brunet (_Manuel du libraire et de l'amateur de livres_, Paris, 1861-1880, vol. ii., col. 217) to be the author of a work entitled _Dell' unione del regno di Portogallo alla corona di Castiglia, istoria del Sig. Ieronimo di Franchi Conestaggio, gentilhuomo genovese_ (Genova, 1585). This volume was in Montaigne's library (see M. Paul Bonnefon's valuable contribution--_La Bibliothèque de Montaigne_--in the _Revue d'Histoire littéraire de la France_, Paris, 1895, vol. ii., pp. 344-345): so also was the Spanish version of López de Castanheda's _Historia_ (M. Paul Bonnefon, _op. cit._, p. 362). A trace of both these works is observable in the 1595 edition of the _Essais_ (liv. ii., chap. 21, _Contre la fainéantise_).

[121] The soldier, Diego Santisteban y Osorio, is known as the author of a sequel to Ercilla's _Araucana_: his fourth and fifth parts were published in 1597.

[122] Barrera conjectures that the allusion is to Francisco Lasso de Mendoza who wrote a prefatory sonnet for Luis Gálvez de Montalvo's _Pastor de Fílida_: see note 24.

[123] Barrera states that Diego de Sarmiento y Carvajal contributed verses to the _Primera parte de la Miscelánea austral de don Diego d'Avalós y Figueroa en varios coloquios_ (Lima, 1603). I have not seen this work.

[124] Barrera fails to give any particulars of Gutierre Carvajal of whom, also, I find no trace in recent bibliographies.

[125] Prefatory sonnets by the Toledan soldier, Luis de Vargas Manrique, are found in Cervantes's _Galatea_ and in López Maldonado's _Cancionero_, both published in 1585: see notes 23 and 34.

[126] Francisco Campuzano practised medicine at Alcalá de Henares, Cervantes's birthplace. In 1585 he contributed to López Maldonado's _Cancionero_ and to Padilla's _Jardín espiritual_: another copy of his verses precedes Gracián Dantisco's _Galateo español_ (1594): see notes 23, 27, and 34.

[127] Francisco Suárez de Sosa, a native of Medina del Campo, practised as a physician. Barrera states that Suárez de Sosa wrote _Del arte como se ha de pelear contra los turcos_ (1549) and _De las ilustres mujeres que en el mundo ha habido_; but I do not understand him to say that either of these works was printed. Barrera conjectures that Suárez de Sosa is introduced in the _Galatea_ under the name of Sasio.

[128] Nothing seems to be known of Doctor Baza.

[129] I have not succeeded in identifying the Licenciado Daza with any of the Dazas mentioned by Bartolomé José Gallardo, _Ensayo de una biblioteca española de libros raros y curiosos_ (Madrid, 1863-1889), vol. ii., cols. 750-754.

[130] The Maestro Garay, praised as a _divino ingenio_ in Lope de Vega's _Arcadia_, is represented by a _glosa_, a copy of _redondillas_, and five sonnets in Manuel Rivadeneyra's _Biblioteca de autores españoles_, vol. xlii., pp. 510-511.

[131] Cervantes's praise of the Maestro Córdoba is confirmed by Lope de Vega in the _Laurel de Apolo_ (silva iv.):--

Hoy á las puertas de su templo llama Una justa memoria, Digna de honor y gloria, Antes que pase el alto Guadarrama, Que mi maestro Córdoba me ofrece, Y las musas latinas me dan voces, Pues con tan justa causa la merece.

[132] Francisco Díaz, lecturer on philosophy and medicine at the University of Alcalá de Henares, published a _Compendio de Cirujia_ (Madrid, 1575). In 1588 Cervantes contributed a complimentary sonnet to Díaz' treatise on kidney disease: _Tratado nuevamente impreso acerca de las enfermedades de los riñones_. The occasion is certainly singular. It does not seem that Díaz himself published any verse.

[133] No trace of Luján's writings has, to my knowledge, been discovered. It seems unlikely that Cervantes can refer to the Pedro de Luján whose _Coloquios matrimoniales_ were published at Seville as early as 1550: see Gallardo, _op. cit._, vol. iii., col. 553.

[134] A prefatory sonnet by Juan de Vergara is found in López Maldonado's _Cancionero_: see note 23.

[135] It may be to this writer that Agustín de Rojas Villandrando alludes in the _Viaje entretenido_ (1603):--

De los farsantes que han hecho farsas, loas, bayles, letras son Alonso de Morales, Grajales, Zorita Mesa, etc.

Two romances by an Alonso de Morales are given in Rivadeneyra, vol. xvi., p. 248.

[136] This prophecy has not been fulfilled: Hernando Maldonado's writings appear to be lost.

[137] Lope de Vega also finds place in the _Laurel de Apolo_ (silva iii.) for

Aquel ingenio, universal, profundo, El docto Marco Antonio de la Vega, Ilustre en verso y erudito en prosa.

[138] This can scarcely refer to the famous diplomatist who died in 1575. Possibly Cervantes may have alluded here to Captain Diego de Mendoza de Barros, two of whose sonnets are included in Pedro Espinosa's collection entitled _Flores de poetas ilustres de España_ (1605). The sonnet on f. 65--

"Pedís, Reyna, un soneto, ya lo hago--"

may have served as Lope de Vega's model for the celebrated Sonnet on a Sonnet in _La Niña de plata_. A still earlier example in this kind was given by Baltasar del Alcázar: see note 43. For French imitations of this sonnet, see M. Alfred Morel-Fatio's article in the _Revue d'Histoire littéraire de la France_ (Paris, July 15, 1896), pp. 435-439. See also Father Matthew Russell's _Sonnets on the Sonnet_ (London, 1898), and a note in Sr. D. Adolfo Bonilla y San Martín's Castilian version of my _History of Spanish Literature_ (Madrid, 1901), p. 344.

[139] Diego Durán contributed a prefatory poem to López Maldonado's _Cancionero_: see note 23. Casiano Pellicer conjectured that Durán figures in the _Galatea_ as Daranio: see the _Introduction_ to the present version, p. xlviii, _n._ 2.

[140] López Maldonado seems to have been on very friendly terms with Lope de Vega and, more especially, with Cervantes. In _Don Quixote_ (Part I., chap. vi), the latter writes:--"es grande amigo mio." Lope and Cervantes both contributed prefatory verses to López Maldonado's _Cancionero_ (1586) of which the Priest expressed a favourable opinion when examining Don Quixote's library:--"it gives rather too much of its eclogues, but what is good was never yet plentiful: let it be kept with those that have been set apart."

[141] Luis Gálvez de Montalvo is best remembered as the author of the pastoral novel, _El Pastor de Fílida_ (1582); see the _Introduction_ to the present version, pp. xxvi and xxxi.

[142] Pedro Liñán de Riaza's poems have been collected in the first volume of the _Biblioteca de escritores aragoneses_ (Zaragoza, 1876). Concerning some supplementary pieces, omitted in this edition, see Professor Emilio Teza, _Der Cancionero von Neapel_, in _Romanische Forschungen_ (Erlangen, 1893), vol. vii., pp. 138-144. Sr. D. Adolfo Bonilla y San Martín conjectures that Liñán de Riaza may have had some part in connection with Avellaneda's spurious continuation of _Don Quixote_: see the elaborate note in his Castilian version of my _History of Spanish Literature_ (Madrid, 1901), pp. 371-374.

[143] Alonso de Valdés wrote a prologue in praise of poetry to Vicente Espinel's _Diversas rimas_: see note 46.

[144] Pedro de Padilla and Cervantes were on excellent terms: "es amigo mio," says the latter in _Don Quixote_ (Part I., chap. vi). Cervantes contributed complimentary verses to Padilla's _Romancero_ (1583), to his _Jardín espiritual_ (1585), and to his posthumous _Grandezas y Excelencias de la Virgen_ (1587). Padilla died in August 1585, shortly after the publication of the _Galatea_: his _Romancero_ has been reprinted (1880) by the Sociedad de Bibliófilos españoles.

[145] I have met with no other allusion to Gaspar Alfonso.

[146] The _heróicos versos_ of Cristóbal de Mesa are of no remarkable merit. Besides translations of Virgil, and the tragedy _Pompeyo_ (1615), he published _Las Navas de Tolosa_ (1594), _La Restauración de España_ (1607), the _Valle de lágrimas_ (1607), and _El Patrón de España_ (1611).

[147] Many Riberas figure in the bibliographies, but apparently none of them is named Pedro.

[148] Benito de Caldera's translation of Camões's _Lusiadas_ was issued at Alcalá de Henares in 1580. Láinez, Garay, Gálvez de Montalvo, and Vergara--all four eulogized in this _Canto de Calíope_--contributed prefatory poems.

[149] Besides a well-known _glosa_ on Jorge Manrique's _Coplas_, Francisco de Guzmán published the _Triumphos Morales_ and the _Decretos de Sabios_ at Alcalá de Henares in 1565.

[150] This stanza is supposed by Barrera to refer to Juan de Salcedo Villandrando who wrote a prefatory sonnet for Diego d'Avalós y Figueroa's _Miscelánea austral_ (Lima, 1602).

[151] This Tomás Gracián Dantisco was the grandson of Diego García, _camarero mayor_ at the court of the Catholic Kings, and son of Diego Gracián de Alderete, Secretary of State and official Interpreter during the reigns of Charles V. and Philip II. The latter studied at the University of Louvain where his name was wrongly Latinized as Gratianus (instead of Gracianus), and, on his return to Spain, he adopted the form Gracián. He married a daughter of Johannes de Curiis, called (from his birthplace) Dantiscus, successively Bishop of Culm (June, 1530) and of West Ermeland (January, 1538), and Polish ambassador at the court of Charles V.: see Leo Czaplicki, _De vita et carminibus Joannis de Curiis Dantisci_ (Vratislaviae, 1855). Some of Diego Gracián de Alderete's letters are included by Sr. D. Adolfo Bonilla y San Martín in his very interesting collection entitled _Clarorum Hispaniensium epistolae ineditae_ (Paris, 1901), printed in the _Revue Hispanique_ (Paris, 1901), vol. viii., pp. 181-308.

Tomás Gracián Dantisco succeeded his father as official Interpreter, and published an _Arte de escribir cartas familiares_ (1589). His brother, Lucás Gracián Dantisco, signed the _Aprobación_ to the _Galatea_: see the _Introduction_ to the present version, p. x, _n._ 4. Another brother, Antonio Gracián Dantisco, secretary to the King, was a good Greek scholar. He translated a treatise by Hero of Alexandria under the title _De los Pneumaticos, ó machuinas que se hazen por atraccion de vacio_. The manuscript has apparently disappeared; but it existed as late as the time of Nicolás Antonio (_Bibliotheca Hispana_, Romae, 1672, vol. i., p. 98). See also Charles Graux' _Essai sur les origines du fonds grec de l'Escurial_ (Paris, 1880), which forms the 46th _fascicule_ of the _Bibliothèque de l'École des Hautes Etudes_, and an interesting note by M. Alfred Morel-Fatio in the _Bulletin hispanique_ (Bordeaux, 1902), vol. iv., p. 282.

[152] In the _Dorotea_ (Act iv. sc. ii.) Lope de Vega speaks of "Bautista de Vivar, monstruo de naturaleza en decir versos de improviso con admirable impulso de las musas"; but Vivar's merits must be taken on trust, for his writings have not been printed. A certain Vivar, author of some verses _á lo divino_, is mentioned by Gallardo (_op. cit._, vol. i., col. 1023), but no specimens are given from the manuscript which was in existence as late as November 1, 1844.

The phrase--_monstruo de naturaleza_--applied by Lope to Vivar was applied by Cervantes to Lope in the preface to his _Ocho Comedias y ocho entremeses nuevos_ (Madrid, 1615). It occurs also in Lope's _Hermosa Ester_, the autograph of which, dated April 5, 1610, is in the British Museum Library, Egerton MSS. 547. Mr. Henry Edward Watts (_Miguel de Cervantes, his life & works_, London, 1895, p. 109) contends that Cervantes uses the expression "in bad part" (i.e. in a sense derogatory to Lope), and cites as a parallel case the employment of it in _Don Quixote_ (Part I. chap. xlvi) where Sancho Panza is described as "monstruo de naturaleza, almario de embustes, silo de bellaquerías, inventor de maldades, publicador de sandeces," and so forth. The words _monstruo de naturaleza_ are, no doubt, open to two interpretations. It is, however, inconceivable that Cervantes would offer so gross an insult to his successful rival as is thus imputed to him. In his bickerings with Lope, Cervantes may sometimes forget himself, as will happen to the best of men at times; but such vulgarity as this is absolutely unlike him. It may be as well to note that the expression--_monstruo de naturaleza_--was current as a compliment long before either Cervantes or Lope used it; it will be found in Pedro de Cáceres y Espinosa's preliminary _Discurso_ to the poems of Gregorio Silvestre published in 1582.

Students of Spanish literary history will remember that Vivar's name was introduced by one of the witnesses who appeared against Lope de Vega when the latter was prosecuted for criminal libel at the beginning of 1588. Luis Vargas de Manrique (mentioned in note 8) was reported by this witness as saying that, on the internal evidence, one of the scandalous ballads which formed the basis of the charge might be attributed to four or five different persons: "it may be by Liñán (mentioned in note 25) who is not here, or by Cervantes, and he is not here, and, since it is not mine, it may be by Vivar, or by Lope de Vega, though Lope de Vega, if he had written it, would not so malign himself." See the _Proceso de Lope de Vega por libelo contra unos cómicos_ (Madrid, 1901) by the Sres. Tomillo and Pérez Pastor.

[153] Baltasar de Toledo's writings have not been traced.

[154] Lope Félix de Vega Carpio was born at Madrid on November 25, 1562, and died there on August 27, 1635. A soldier, a poet, a novelist, a dramatist, and a priest, he ranks next to Cervantes in the history of Spanish literature. It is impossible to give any notion of his powers within the compass of a note. According to Pérez de Montalbán, Lope was the author of 1800 plays and 400 _autos_: some 400 plays and some 50 _autos_ survive, apart from innumerable miscellaneous works. Lope's _Obras completas_ are now being issued by the Royal Spanish Academy under the editorship of Sr. D. Marcelino Menéndez y Pelayo, and each succeeding volume--thirteen quarto volumes have already been issued to subscribers--goes to justify his immense reputation. A short summary of his dramatic achievement is given in my lecture on _Lope de Vega and the Spanish Drama_ (Glasgow and London, 1902); for fuller details of this amazing genius and his work see Professor Hugo Albert Rennert's admirable biography (Glasgow, 1903).

[155] Francisco Pacheco, uncle of the author of the _Arte de la pintura_, was born in 1535 and died in 1599. Some specimens of his skill in writing occasional Latin verses are extant in Seville Cathedral--of which he was a canon. A Latin composition from the same pen will be found in Herrera's edition of Garcilaso, for which see note 39.

[156] Fernando de Herrera, the chief of the Seville school of poets, was born in 1534 and died in 1597. Herrera, who was a cleric but not a priest, dedicated many of his poems (1582) to the Condesa de Gelves, and there is interminable discussion as to whether these verses are to be taken in a Platonic sense, or not. Besides being a distinguished lyrical poet, Herrera proved himself an excellent critic in the _Anotaciones_ in his edition of Garcilaso de la Vega (1580). This commentary was the occasion of a clever, scurrilous attack, circulated under the pseudonym of Prete Jacopín, by Juan Fernández de Velasco, Conde de Haro, who resented the audacity of an Andaluz in presuming to edit a Castilian poet. Haro evidently thought that invective was an ornament of debate, for in _Observación XI._ he calls his opponent _ydiotíssimo_, and in _Observación XXVII._ he calls Herrera an ass: "sois Asno y no León."

Cervantes was a great admirer of Herrera whose death he commemorated in a sonnet. Moreover, he wove into the short dedication of the First Part of _Don Quixote_ (to the Duque de Béjar) phrases borrowed from the dedication in Herrera's edition of Garcilaso: see vol. iii. of the present edition (Glasgow, 1901), pp. 3-4.

[157] That _el culto Cangas_ had a high reputation appears from the allusion in the _Restauración de España_ (lib. x. est. 108) of Cristóbal de Mesa who also dedicated a sonnet to him in the _Rimas_ (Madrid, 1611), f. 230.

[158] Two sonnets by Cristóbal de Villaroel are given in Espinosa's _Flores de poetas ilustres de España_ (1605). This extremely rare work, together with the supplementary _Flores_ (1611) gathered by Juan Antonio Calderón, has been edited with great skill by Sr. D. Francisco Rodríguez Marín who, fortunately for students, undertook to finish the work begun by Sr. D. Juan Quirós de los Ríos. Two additional sonnets by Villaroel precede Enrique Garcés's rendering of Petrarch: see note 68.

[159] Francisco de Medina was born at Seville about 1550 and died there in 1615. This pleasing poet was of great assistance to Herrera in the work of editing Garcilaso. Herrera's edition, which includes examples of Medina's verse, also contains a preface by Medina which was utilized by Cervantes in the dedication of the _First Part of Don Quixote_: see note 39 and vol. iii. of the present edition (Glasgow, 1901), pp. 3-4.

[160] Baltasar del Alcázar was born in 1540 and died in 1606. His graceful, witty poems were reissued in 1878 by the Sociedad de Bibliófilos Andaluces. Alcázar's Sonnet on a Sonnet (see note 21) lacks a line in the version printed by Gallardo, _op. cit._, vol. i., col. 75.

[161] Cristóbal Mosquera de Figueroa was born in 1553 and died in 1610. He is best known as the author of a _Comentario en breve compendio de disciplina militar_ (Madrid, 1596) for which Cervantes wrote a sonnet on the famous Marqués de Santa Cruz. Specimens of Mosquera de Figueroa's verse are to be found in Herrera's edition of Garcilaso.

[162] The Sevillian priest, Domingo de Becerra, as appears from Fernández de Navarrete's _Vida de Cervantes Saavedra_ (Madrid, 1819, pp. 386-387), was a prisoner in Algiers with Cervantes, and was ransomed at the same time as the latter. Becerra was then (1580) forty-five years of age. He translated Giovanni Della Casa's _Il Galateo_, and published his version at Venice in 1585.

[163] Vicente Espinel was born in 1550 and is conjectured to have died between 1624 and 1634. He is said to have added a fifth string to the guitar, and to have introduced _espinelas_: "perdónesele Dios," is Lope's comment in the _Dorotea_ (act. i. sc. vii.). Espinel's _Diversas rimas_ (1591) are now only known to students; but his picaresque novel, _Marcos de Obregón_ (Madrid, 1618), still finds, and deserves to find, many readers. In the 1775 edition of the _Siècle de Louis XIV._ Voltaire alleged that _Gil Blas_ was "entièrement pris du roman espagnol _La Vidad de lo Escudiero Dom Marcos d'Obrego_." It will be observed that, in transcribing the title, Voltaire makes almost as many mistakes as the number of words allows. His statement is a grotesque exaggeration, but it had the merit of suggesting a successful practical joke to José Francisco de Isla. This sly wag translated _Gil Blas_ into Spanish, mischievously pretending that the book was thus "restored to its country and native language by a jealous Spaniard who will not allow his nation to be made fun of." Unluckily, the naughty Jesuit did not live to see the squabbles of the learned critics who fell into the trap that he had baited for them. It is, by the way, a curious and disputed point whether the Comte de Neufchâteau's celebrated _Examen de la question de savoir si Lesage est l'auteur de Gil Blas ou s'il l'a pris de l'espagnol_ (1818) was, or was not, taken word for word from a juvenile essay by Victor Hugo: see _Victor Hugo raconté par un témoin de sa vie_ (Bruxelles and Leipzig, 1863), vol. i., p. 396. In the _Adjunta al Parnaso_ Cervantes calls Espinel "uno de los más antiguos y verdaderos amigos que yo tengo." In his _Rimas_ Espinel had been most complimentary to Cervantes. But Pellicer and Fernández de Navarrete have spoken harshly of him for being (as they imagined) jealous of the success of _Don Quixote_; and Mr. Henry Edward Watts (_op. cit._, p. 157, _n._ 1) asserts that Espinel "took occasion after Cervantes' death to speak of his own _Marcos de Obregón_ ... as superior to _Don Quixote_." This is not so. There may be authors who suppose that their immortal masterpieces are superior to the ephemeral writings of everybody else: but they seldom say this--at least, in print. Nor did Espinel. It must suffice, for the moment, to note that the above-mentioned fable is mainly based on the fact that the Gongoresque poet and preacher, Hortensio Félix Paravicino y Arteaga, wrote as follows in his _Aprobación to Marcos de Obregón_: "El Libro del Escudero, que escriuio el Maestro Espinel, y V. M. me manda censurar, he visto, y no hallo en el cosa que se oponga à nuestra santa Fè Catolica Romana, ni ofenda à la piedad de las buenas costumbres della, antes de los libros deste género, que parece de entretenimiento comun, es el que con más razón deue ser impreso, por tener el prouecho tan cerca del deleyte, que sin perjudicar enseña, y sin diuertir entretiene: el estilo, la inuencion, el gusto de las cosas, y la moralidad, que deduze dellas, arguyen bien la pluma que la ha escrito, tan justamente celebrada en todas naciones. A mi alomenos de los libros deste argumento me parece la mejor cosa que nuestra lengua tendrà, y que V.m. deue darle vna aprouacion muy honrada. Guarde nuestro Señor à V. M."

It is Paravicino, not Espinel, who speaks: and the eulogistic phrases which he uses do not exceed the limits of the recognized convention on such occasions.

[164] Jerónimo Sánchez de Carranza was introduced to England by Ben Jonson as an authority on honour and arms. Bobadil, in _Every Man in his humour_ (Act 1, sc. 4) says:--"By the foot of Pharaoh, an' 'twere my case now I should send him a chartel presently. The bastinado, a most proper and sufficient dependence, warranted by the great Carranza." Carranza wrote the _Philosophia y destreza de las armas_ (Sanlúcar de Barrameda, 1582); a later treatise, the _Libro de las grandezas de la espada_ (Madrid, 1600) was issued by the counter-expert of the next generation, Luis Pacheco de Narváez. I need scarcely remind most readers that Pacheco de Narváez, the famous fencing-master, was ignominiously disarmed by Quevedo--an incomparable hand with the foil, despite his lameness and short sight. Pacheco naturally smarted under the disgrace, and seems to have shown his resentment in an unpleasant fashion whenever he had an opportunity. The respective merits of Carranza and Pacheco divided Madrid into two camps. Literary men were prominent in the fray. Suárez de Figueroa, Vélez de Guevara, and Ruiz de Alarcón declared for Pacheco. Among Carranza's partisans were Luis Mendoza de Carmona and, as might be expected, Quevedo who mentions the _Libro de las grandezas de la espada_ in his _Historia de la vida del Buscón_ (lib. i. cap. viii.).

[165] Two sonnets by Lázaro Luis Iranzo are given in Rivadeneyra, _op. cit._, vol. iv., pp. 180, 364.

[166] Baltasar de Escobar is represented in Espinosa's _Flores de poetas ilustres_: a complimentary letter addressed by Escobar to Cristóbal de Virués is printed in Rivadeneyra, _op. cit._, vol. lxii., p. 37.

[167] A sonnet on the sack of Cádiz by Juan Sanz de Zumeta is given in Juan Antonio Pellicer's edition of _Don Quixote_ (Madrid, 1797-1798), vol. i., p. lxxxvi.

[168] The correct, full form of this writer's name seems to be Juan de la Cueva de Garoza. He is conjectured to have been born in 1550 and to have died in 1609. This interesting dramatist was among the most distinguished of Lope de Vega's immediate predecessors, and in such plays as _El Cerco de Zamora_ he comes near anticipating Lope's methods. In his _Exemplar poético_ (1609) Cueva declares that he was the first to bring kings upon the stage, an innovation that was censured at the time:--

A mi me culpan de que fuí el primero que Reyes y Deydades di al teatro de las Comedias traspasando el fuero.

Evidently Cueva did not know that Torres Naharro introduces a king in his _Aquilana_. A reprint of Cueva's plays is urgently needed: his purely poetic work is of slight value. An edition of _El Viage de Sannio_, with an admirable Introduction by Professor Fredrik Amadeus Wulff will be found in the _Acta Universitatis Lundensis_ (Lund, 1887-1888), (Philosophi, Språkvetenskap och Historia), vol. xxiii.

[169] Nothing by Adán Vivaldo has survived, apparently. Cervantes assigns this surname to a minor character in _Don Quixote_ (Part I., chap. xiii.).

[170] It would be interesting to know how far this panegyric on Juan Aguayo was justified. I have failed to find any information concerning him or his works.

[171] The dates of the birth and death of the Cordoban poet, Juan Rufo Gutiérrez, are given conjecturally as 1530 and 1600. Cervantes esteemed Rufo's _Austriada_ inordinately: see note 2. In truth the _Austriada_ is a tedious performance, being merely a poor rhythmical arrangement of Diego Hurtado de Mendoza's _Guerra de Granada_. Mendoza's history was not published till 1627, long after the author's death (1575). It was issued at Lisbon by Luis Tribaldos de Toledo who, in the previous year, had brought out a posthumous edition of the poems of Francisco de Figueroa--the Tirsi of the _Galatea_. Evidently, then, Rufo read the _Guerra de Granada_ in manuscript: see M. Foulché-Delbosc's article in the _Revue hispanique_ (Paris, 1894), vol. i., pp. 137-138, _n._

[172] Luis de Góngora y Argote was born in 1561 and died in 1627. His father, Francisco de Argote, was Corregidor of Córdoba, and it has been generally stated that the poet assumed his mother's maiden name. However, the Sra. Doña Blanca de los Ríos y de Lampérez alleges that Góngora's real name was Luis de Argote y Argote: see an article entitled _De vuelta de Salamanca in La España moderna_ (Madrid, June 1897). I do not know precisely upon what ground this statement is made. Despite the perverse affectations into which his _culteranismo_ led him, Góngora is one of the most eminent Spanish poets, and unquestionably among the greatest artists in Spanish literature. A passage in the _Viaje del Parnaso_ (cap. vii.) seems to imply that Cervantes admired Góngora's very obscure work, the _Polifemo_:--

De llano no le déis, dadle de corte, Estancias Polifemas, al poeta Que no os tuviere por su guía y norte. Inimitables sois, y á la discreta Gala que descubrís en lo escondido Toda elegancia puede estar sujeta.

M. Foulché-Delbosc has in preparation a complete edition of Góngora's works.

[173] Barrera conjectures that this Gonzalo Cervantes Saavedra may be the author of a novel entitled _Los Pastores del Betis_, published at Trani in 1633-4. I do not know this work, which may have been issued posthumously. It seems unlikely that Gonzalo Cervantes Saavedra began novel-writing when over seventy years old: for we may take it that he was over twenty when his namesake praised him, as above, in 1585.

[174] Gonzalo Gómez de Luque wrote the _Libro primero de los famosos hechos del príncipe Don Celidon de Iberia_ (Alcalá de Henares, 1583); but the only works of his with which I am acquainted are the verses in Padilla's _Jardín espiritual_ and López Maldonado's _Cancionero_: see notes 27 and 23.

[175] Two sonnets by Gonzalo Mateo de Berrío are included in Espinosa's _Flores de poetas ilustres_. Espinel refers to him in the preface to _Marcos de Obregón_: Lope mentions him in the _Laurel de Apolo_ (silva ii.) and in the _Dorotea_ (Act iv., sc. ii.) Berrío signed the _Aprobación_ to Cairasco de Figueroa's _Templo militante_: see note 73.

[176] Luis Barahona de Soto was born in 1548 at Lucena (Lucena de Córdoba and not Lucena del Puerto, as Barrera supposed). After some wanderings he settled at Archidona where he practised medicine. He is said to have died _ab intestato_ on November 6, 1595. A complimentary sonnet by him appears in Cristóbal de Mesa's _Restauración de España_ (Madrid, 1607): it would seem, therefore, that Mesa's _Restauración_ must have been in preparation for at least a dozen years. Some verses by Barahona de Soto are given in Espinosa's _Flores de poetas ilustres_: four of his satires, and his _Fábula de Acteón_ are printed in Juan José López de Sedano's _Parnaso Español_ (Madrid, 1768-1778), vol. ix., pp. 53-123. Barahona de Soto's best known work is _La primera parte de la Angélica_ (Granada, 1586) which, in the colophon, has the alternative title of _Las lágrimas de Angélica_. There is a famous allusion to this work in _Don Quixote_ (Part I., chap. vi.):--"I should have shed tears myself," said the curate when he heard the title, "had I ordered that book to be burned, for its author was one of the famous poets of the world, not to say of Spain, and was very happy in the translation of some of Ovid's fables." As Mr. Ormsby observed:--"The anti-climax here almost equals Waller's:--

'Under the tropic is our language spoke, And part of Flanders hath received our yoke'."

See vol. iii. of the present edition (Glasgow, 1901), p. 53, _n._ 3. It has often been questioned whether Barahona de Soto ever wrote a Second Part of the _Angélica_. Since the publication of the _Diálogos de la Montería_ (Madrid, 1890) by the Sociedad de Bibliófilos Españoles, under the editorship of Sr. D. Francisco R. de Uhagón, it seems practically certain that he at all events began the Second Part, if he did not finish it. The _Diálogos de la Montéria_ contain numerous passages quoted from the Second Part; and in a biographical, bibliographical and critical study, which Sr. D. Francisco Rodríguez Marín is now correcting for the press, it will be shown that Barahona de Soto was, in all probability, himself the author of these _Diálogos_.

[177] A sonnet by Francisco de Terrazas figures in Pedro Espinosa's _Floresta de poetas ilustres de España_: three more sonnets by Terrazas will be found in Gallardo, vol. i., _op. cit._, cols. 1003-1007.

[178] Barrera does not help us to discover anything of Martínez de Ribera, who may have published in the Indies.

[179] Barrera vaguely infers from the text that Alonso Picado was a native of Peru.

[180] Alonso de Estrada is conjectured by Barrera to have been born in the Indies.

[181] Nothing seems to be known of Avalos y de Ribera.

[182] I have never met with any of Sancho de Ribera's writings: a sonnet to him is found among Garcés's translations from Petrarch: see note 68.

[183] A sonnet by Pedro de Montesdoca, _El Indiano_, is prefixed to Vicente Espinel's _Diversas rimas_ (1591).

[184] A sonnet by Diego de Aguilar precedes Garcés's translation of Camões's _Lusiadas_: see note 68. I presume him to be the author of another prefatory sonnet in López Maldonado's _Cancionero_.

[185] No information is forthcoming as to Gonzalo Fernández de Sotomayor or his works.

[186] Henrique Garcés published _Los sonetos y canciones del Poeta Francisco Petrarcha_ (Madrid, 1591), and _Los Lusiadas de Luys de Camoes_ (Madrid, 1591).

[187] The _vena inmortal_ of Rodrigo Fernández de Pineda does not seem to have expressed itself in print.

[188] The name of Juan de Mestanza recurs in the _Viaje del Parnaso_ (cap. vii.).

[189] An American, so Barrera thinks: there is no trace of his writings.

[190] Another American, according to Barrera; there is no trace of his writings either.

[191] Bartolomé Cairasco de Figueroa was born at the Canaries in 1540, became Prior of the Cathedral there, and died in 1610. His _Templo militante, flos santorum, y triumphos de sus virtudes_ was issued in four parts: (Valladolid, 1602), (Valladolid, 1603), (Madrid, 1609), and (Lisbon, 1614). Selections are given in Juan José López de Sedano's _Parnaso español_ (Madrid, 1768-1778), vol. v., pp. 332-363, and vol. vi., pp. 191-216. Cairasco de Figueroa wrote a prefatory poem to Carranza's _Libro de las grandezas de la espada_: see note 47. According to the Spanish annotators of Ticknor's _History_, Cairasco left behind him a version (unpublished) of Ariosto's _Gerusalemme_.

[192] Barrera states that a sonnet by Damián de Vega is prefixed to Juan Bautista de Loyola's _Viaje y naufragios del Macedonio_ (Salamanca, 1587). I do not know this work.

[193] The celebrated scholar, Francisco Sánchez, usually called _El Brocense_ from his native place, was born at Las Brozas (Extremadura) in 1523, became professor of Greek and Rhetoric at Salamanca, and died in 1601. He edited Garcilaso (Salamanca, 1581), Juan de Mena (Salamanca, 1582), Horace (Salamanca, 1591), Virgil (Salamanca, 1591), Politian's _Silvae_ (Salamanca, 1596), Ovid (Salamanca, 1598), Persius (Salamanca, 1599). To these should be added the _Paradoxa_ (Antwerp, 1582), and a posthumous commentary on Epictetus (Pamplona, 1612). _A Practical Grammar of the Latin Tongue_, based on Sánchez, was published in London as recently as 1729. _El Brocense_ was prosecuted by the Inquisition in 1584, and again in 1588. The latter suit was still dragging on when Sánchez died. See the _Colección de documentos inéditos para la historia de España_ (Madrid, 1842, etc.), vol. ii., pp. 5-170.

[194] The lawyer Francisco de la Cueva y Silva was born at Medina del Campo about 1550. His verses appear in Pedro Espinosa's _Flores de poetas ilustres de España_; he wrote a prefatory poem for Escobar Cabeza de Vaca's _Luzero de la tierra sancta_, and is said to be the author of a play entitled _El bello Adonis_. Lope de Vega's _Mal Casada_ is dedicated to Cueva whose high professional reputation may be inferred from the closing lines of a well-known sonnet by Quevedo:--

Todas las leyes, con discurso fuerte Venció; y ansí parece cosa nueva, Que le vinciese, siendo ley, la muerte.

Cueva is mentioned, together with Berrío (see note 58), in the _Dorotea_ (Act. iv. sc. ii.): "Don Francisco de la Cueva, y Berrío, jurisconsultos gravísimos, de quien pudiéramos decir lo que de Dino y Alciato, interpretes consultísimos de las leyes y poetas dulcísimos, escribieron comedias que se representaron con general aplauso."

[195] The famous mystic writer and poet Luis Ponce de León was born at Belmonte (Cuenca) in 1527, joined the Augustinian Order in 1544, and was appointed professor of theology at Salamanca in 1561. He became involved in an academic squabble and was absurdly suspected of conspiring with the professors of Hebrew, Martín Martínez de Cantalapiedra and Juan Grajal, to interpret the Scriptures in a rabbinical sense. A plot seems to have been organized against him by Bartolomé de Medina, and, perhaps, by León de Castro, the professor of Greek at Salamanca. Luis de León was likewise accused of having translated the _Song of Songs_ in the vernacular, and it has hitherto been thought that this charge told most heavily against him in the eyes of the Holy Office. It now appears that the really damaging accusation in the indictment referred to the supposed heterodoxy of Fray Luis's views as to the authority of the Vulgate: see a learned series of chapters entitled _Fray Luis de León; estudio biográfico y crítico_ published by the Rev. Father Francisco Blanco García (himself an Augustinian monk) in _La Ciudad de Dios_ (from January 20, 1897 onwards, at somewhat irregular intervals). Luis de León was arrested in March 1572 and imprisoned till December 1576, when he was discharged as innocent. In 1579 he was appointed to the chair of Biblical History at Salamanca, his chief competitor being Fray Domingo de Guzmán, son of the great poet Garcilaso de la Vega. In 1582 Fray Luis was once more prosecuted before the Inquisition because of his supposed heterodoxy concerning the question _de auxiliis_: see the _Segundo proceso instruído por la Inquisición de Valladolid contra Fray Luis de León_ (Madrid, 1896), annotated by the Rev. Father Francisco Blanco García. In 1591 Fray Luis was elected Provincial of the Augustinian Order: he died ten days later. While in jail he wrote what is, perhaps, the noblest mystic work in the Spanish language, _Los Nombres de Cristo_, the first two books of which were published in 1583--the complete work (including a third book) being issued in 1585. In 1583 also appeared his _Perfecta casada_. Fray Luis, in a fortunate hour for mankind, edited the writings of Santa Teresa, rescuing from the rash tamperings of blunderers works which he instantly recognized as masterpieces. His verses were published by Quevedo in 1631: they at once gave Fray Luis rank as one of the great Spanish poets, though he himself seems to have looked upon them as mere trifles.

[196] Matías de Zúñiga, whose genius Cervantes here declares to have been divine, does not appear to have published anything.

[197] Certain poems ascribed to Damasio de Frías are given by Juan José López de Sedano in _El Parnaso Español_ (Madrid, 1768-1778), vols. ii. and vii.

[198] Barrera merely states that Andrés Sanz del Portillo resided in Castilla la Vieja: his writings have not reached us.

[199] Possibly this writer may be identical with the Pedro de Soria who contributed a sonnet to Jerónimo de Lomas Cantoral's _Obras_: see note 83.

[200] The _Obras_ of Jerónimo de Lomas Cantoral appeared at Madrid in 1578. They include translations of three _canzoni_ by Luigi Tansillo.

[201] Jerónimo Vaca y de Quiñones contributed a sonnet to Pedro de Escobar Cabeza de Vaca's _Luzero de la tierra sancta, y grandezas de Egypto, y monte Sinay_ (Valladolid, 1587): see note 77.

[202] Lupercio Leonardo de Argensola was born in 1559, and died in 1613 at Naples, whither he had accompanied the Conde de Lemos three years earlier. His admirable poems, and those of his brother, were issued posthumously in 1634: see note 86. His _Isabela_, _Fílis_ and _Alejandra_ are praised in _Don Quixote_ as "three tragedies acted in Spain, written by a famous poet of these kingdoms, which were such that they filled all who heard them with admiration, delight, and interest, the ignorant as well as the wise, the masses as well as the higher orders, and brought in more money to the performers, these three alone, than thirty of the best that have since been produced": see vol. iv. of the present edition (Glasgow, 1901), p. 214. The _Fílis_ seems to be lost. The _Isabela_ and _Alejandra_, neither of them very interesting, were first published in 1772 by Juan José López de Sedano in _El Parnaso Español_ (Madrid, 1768-1778), vol. vi., pp. 312-524. There may be a touch of friendly exaggeration in Cervantes's account of their success on the boards. At all events, the author of these pieces soon abandoned the stage, and, when the theatres were closed on the death of the Queen of Piedmont, he was prominent among those who petitioned that the closure might be made permanent. A Royal decree in that sense was issued on May 2, 1598. In the following year Lupercio Leonardo de Argensola was appointed chief chronicler of Aragón. The _Isabela_ and _Alejandra_ are reprinted in the first volume of the Conde de la Viñaza's edition of the Argensolas' _Poesías sueltas_ (Madrid, 1889).

[203] Bartolomé Leonardo de Argensola was born in 1562 and died in 1631. He took orders, became Rector of Villahermosa, and succeeded his brother as official chronicler of Aragón. He published the _Conquista de las Islas Malacas_ (Madrid, 1609), and the _Anales de Aragón_ (Zaragoza, 1631)--the latter being a continuation of Jerónimo de Zurita's _Anales de la Corona de Aragón_ (1562-1580). The poems of both brothers were issued by Lupercio's son, Gabriel Leonardo de Albión, in a volume entitled _Las Rimas que se han podido recoger_ _de Lupercio, y del Doctor Bartolomé Leonardo de Argensola_ (Zaragoza, 1634). Lope de Vega had a great esteem for the Argensolas whose polished diction, rare in men of Aragonese birth, he regarded as an antidote to the extravagances--the _frases horribles_, as he says--of _culteranismo_. The very considerable merits of the Argensolas were likewise appreciated by Cervantes who, however, seems to have cooled somewhat towards the brothers when the Conde de Lemos, on his appointment as Viceroy of Naples, attached them to his household. It is said that Cervantes himself hoped to form part of Lemos's suite, and that he was annoyed with the Argensolas for not pushing his claims as vigorously as he expected of them. At this distance of time, it is impossible for us to know what really happened; but a passage in the _Viaje del Parnaso_ (cap. iii.) does appear to imply that Cervantes had a grievance of some kind against the Argensolas:--

Que no sé quien me dice, y quien me exhorta, Que tienen para mi, á lo que imagino, La voluntad, como la vista corta.

[204] The writings of Cosme Pariente are unknown to Barrera, and to later bibliographers.

[205] Diego Murillo was born at Zaragoza about 1555, joined the Franciscans, and became a popular preacher. He is the author of the _Instruccion para enseñar la virtud á los principiantes_ (Zaragoza, 1598), the _Escala espiritual para la perfección evangélica_ (Zaragoza, 1598), the _Vida y excelencias de la Madre de Dios_ (Zaragoza, 1610), and six volumes of _Discursos predicables_, published at Zaragoza and Lisbon between 1602 and 1611. The most accessible of Murillo's works are the _Fundación milagrosa de la capilla angélica y apostólica de la Madre de Dios del Pilar_ (Barcelona, 1616), and a volume entitled _Divina, dulce y provechosa poesía_ (Zaragoza, 1616). His verse (some specimens of which are given in Böhl de Faber's _Floresta de rimas antiguas castellanas_) is better than his prose, but in neither does he fulfil the expectations raised by Cervantes's compliments.

[206] Juan Coloma, Conde de Elda, is responsible for a _Década de la Pasión de Jesu Christo_ (Cádiz, 1575).

[207] Pedro Luis Garcerán de Borja is also introduced by Gil Polo in the _Canto del Turia_: see note 94. He held the appointment of Captain-General of Oran, where Cervantes may have met him: at the time of his death in 1592 he was Captain-General of Catalonia.

[208] Alonso Girón y de Rebolledo is likewise introduced by Gil Polo in the _Canto del Turia_: see note 94. His _Pasión de nuestro Señor Jesu Christo según Sanct Joan_ (Valencia, 1563) met with considerable success. It contains a complimentary sonnet by Gil Polo: in the following year Girón y de Rebolledo repaid the attention by contributing a sonnet to Gil Polo's _Diana enamorada_.

[209] Jaime Juan de Falcon, like Garcerán de Borja and Girón y de Rebolledo, figures in Gil Polo's _Canto del Turia_: see note 94. He was born in 1522 and died in 1594, having (as he believed) squared the circle. Amongst other works he published the _Quadratura circuli_ (Valencia, 1587): his _Obras poéticas latinas_ (Madrid, 1600) appeared posthumously.

[210] Andrés Rey de Artieda was born in 1549 and died in 1613. His youth was one of rare promise. Though not yet fourteen years old when Gil Polo wrote the _Diana enamorada_, he is introduced to us as a poet in the _Canto del Turia_:--

y prometernos han sus tiernas flores frutos entre los buenos los mejores.

This phrase may have been in Cervantes's mind when writing of his own play, _La Confusa_: "la cual, con paz sea dicho de cuantas comedias de capa y espada hasta hoy se han representado, bien puede tener lugar señalado par buena entre las mejores" (see the _Adjunta al Parnaso_).

Artieda graduated in arts at the University of Valencia in 1563, and studied later at Lérida and Tolosa, taking his degree as doctor of both civil and canonical law at the age of twenty. This brilliant academic success was received _con aplauso y pronósticos extraños_, and a great future seemed to await him. However, he was something of a rolling stone. He practised for a short while at the bar, but abandoned the profession in disgust and entered the army. Here, again, he seemed likely to carry all before him. In his first campaign he was promoted at a bound to the rank of captain, but his luck was now run out. Like Cervantes, he received three wounds at Lepanto. He was present at the relief of Cyprus, and served under Parma in the Low Countries. His intrepidity was proverbial, and he is said to have swum across the Ems in midwinter, his sword gripped between his teeth, under the enemy's fire. These heroic feats do not appear to have brought him advancement, and, in the _Viaje del Parnaso_ (cap. iii.), Cervantes, who would seem to have known him personally, speaks of Artieda grown old as--

Más rico de valor que de moneda.

Artieda is said to have written plays entitled _El Príncipe vicioso_, _Amadís de Gaula_, and _Los Encantos de Merlín_: he is the author of a mediocre tragedy, _Los Amantes_ (Valencia, 1581) which may have been read by Tirso de Molina before he wrote _Los Amantes de Teruel_. Artieda published an anthology of his verses under the pseudonym of Artemidoro: _Discursos, epístolas y epigramas de Artemidoro_ (Zaragoza, 1605). Some passages in this collection express the writer's hostility to the new drama, and betray a certain pique at the success of his former friend, Lope de Vega. Lope, however, praises Artieda very generously in the _Laurel de Apolo_ (silva ii.).

[211] Gaspar Gil Polo published the _Diana enamorada_ at Valencia in 1564. The Priest in _Don Quixote_ decided that it should "be preserved as if it came from Apollo himself": see vol. iii. of the present edition (Glasgow, 1901), p. 51. It is unquestionably a work of unusual merit in its kind, but some deduction must be made from Cervantes's hyperbolical praise: he evidently succumbed to the temptation of playing on the words Polo and Apollo.

Gaspar Gil Polo is said by Ticknor to have been professor of Greek at Valencia. There was a Gil Polo who held the Greek chair in the University of that city between 1566 and 1574: but his name was not Gaspar. Nicolás Antonio and others maintain that the author of the _Diana enamorada_ was the celebrated lawyer, Gaspar Gil Polo, who appeared to plead before the Cortes in 1626. This Gaspar Gil Polo was a mere boy when the _Diana enamorada_ was issued sixty-two years earlier. He was probably the son of the author: see Justo Pastor Fuster, _Biblioteca Valenciana de las escritores que florecieron hasta nuestros días_ (Valencia, 1827-1830), vol. i., pp. 150-155, and--more especially--Professor Hugo Albert Rennert, _The Spanish Pastoral Romances_ (Baltimore, 1892), p. 31.

As already stated in note 91, Gil Polo contributed a sonnet to Girón y de Rebolledo's _Pasión_, which appeared a year before the _Diana enamorada_. Another of his sonnets is found in Sempere's _Carolea_ (1560). In the _Serao de Amor_, Timoneda speaks of him as a celebrated poet; but, as we see from the _Canto de Calíope_ itself, these flourishes and compliments often mean next to nothing. It is somewhat strange that Gil Polo, who is said to have died at Barcelona in 1591, did not issue a sequel to his _Diana enamorada_ during the twenty-seven years of life which remained to him after the publication of the First Part in 1564. At the end of the _Diana enamorada_ he promised a Second Part as clearly as Cervantes, after him, promised a Second Part of the _Galatea_: "Las quales (fiestas) ... y otras cosas de gusto y de provecho están tratadas en la otra parte deste libro, que antes de muchos días, placiendo á Dios, será impresa." Gil Polo is believed to have been absorbed by his official duties as Maestre Racional of the Royal Court in the Kingdom of Valencia. His _Canto del Turia_, inserted in the third book of the _Diana enamorada_, is one of the models--perhaps the chief model--of the present _Canto de Calíope_. Cervantes follows Gil Polo very closely.

[212] The dramatist, Cristóbal de Virués, was born in 1550 and died in 1610. Like Cervantes and Artieda, he fought at Lepanto. His _Obras trágicas y líricas_ (Madrid, 1609) are more interesting than his somewhat repulsive _Historia del Monserrate_ (Madrid, 1587-1588) which Cervantes praises beyond measure: see note 2.

[213] I have failed to find any example of Silvestre de Espinosa's work.

[214] García Romeo (the name is sometimes given as García Romero) appears to have escaped all the bibliographers.

[215] _Romero_ in Spanish means _rosemary_. A. B. W.

[216] The Jeromite monk, Pedro de Huete, contributed a sonnet to the _Versos espirituales_ (Cuenca, 1597) of the Dominican friar, Pedro de Encinas.

[217] Pedro de Láinez joined with Cervantes in writing eulogistic verses for Padilla's _Jardín espiritual_: see note 27. Examples of his skill are given in Pedro Espinosa's _Flores de poetas ilustres de España_ (1605). Fernández de Navarrete, in his biography of Cervantes, states (p. 116) that Láinez died in 1605: he is warmly praised by Lope de Vega in the _Laurel de Apolo_ (silva iv.).

His widow, Juana Gaitán, lived at Valladolid in the same house as Cervantes and his family: she is mentioned, not greatly to her credit, in the depositions of some of the witnesses examined with reference to the death of Gaspar de Ezpeleta; but too much importance may easily be given to this tittle-tattle. Luisa de Montoya, a very respectable widow, corroborated the evidence of other witnesses who assert that the neighbours gossiped concerning the visits paid to Láinez's widow by the Duque de Pastrana and the Conde de Concentaina--"que venian a tratar de un libro que había compuesto un fulano Laynez, su primer marido."

The contemptuous phrase--_un fulano Laynez_--would imply that Luisa de Montoya was not a person of literary tastes: she was, however, widow of the chronicler, Esteban de Garibay Zamalloa, author of the _Ilustraciones genealogicas de los catholicos reyes de las Españas, y de los christianissimos de Francia, y de los Emperadores de Constantinopla, hasta el Catholico Rey nuestro Señor Don Philipe el II y sus serenissimos hijos_ (Madrid, 1596). The words--_su primer marido_--which are likewise used by another witness (Cervantes's niece, Costanza de Ovando), might be taken, if construed literally, to mean that Láinez's widow had married again shortly after her husband's death: for the evidence was taken on June 29, 1605. But, apparently, the inference would be wrong. When examined in jail, to which she was committed with Cervantes and others, Juana Gaitán described herself as over thirty-five years of age, and as the widow of the late Pedro Láinez. She accounted for Pastrana's visits, which had given rise to scandal, by saying that she intended to dedicate to him two books by her late husband, and that Pastrana had merely called to thank her in due form. A reference to Pastrana in the _Viaje del Parnaso_ (cap. viii.) seems to suggest that Pastrana was a munificent patron:--

Desde allí, y no sé cómo, fuí traído Adonde ví al gran Duque de Pastrana Mil parabienes dar de bien venido; Y que la fama en la verdad ufana Contaba que agradó con su presencia, Y con su cortesía sobrehumana:

Que fué nuevo Alejandro en la excelencia Del dar, que satisfizo á todo cuanto Puede mostrar real magnificencia.

It is a little unlucky that these works by Láinez, concerning the publication of which the author's zealous widow consulted Pastrana, should not after all have found their way into print. For details of the evidence in the Ezpeleta case, see Dr. Pérez Pastor's _Documentos Cervantinos hasta ahora inéditos_ (Madrid, 1902), vol. ii., pp. 455-527.

[218] Francisco de Figueroa, _el Divino_, was born at Alcalá de Henares in 1536 and is conjectured to have died as late as 1620. Very little is known of this distinguished poet. He is said to have served as a soldier in Italy where his verses won him so high a reputation that he was compared to Petrarch. He married Doña María de Vargas on February 14, 1575, at Alcalá de Henares, and travelled with the Duque de Terranova through the Low Countries in 1597. After this date he disappears. He is stated to have died at Lisbon, and to have directed that all his poems should be burned. Such of them as were saved were published at Lisbon in 1626 by Luis Tribaldos de Toledo. As noted in the _Introduction_ (p. xxxi. _n._ 2) to the present version, Figueroa is the Tirsi of the _Galatea_. There is a strong family likeness between the poems of Figueroa and those of the Bachiller Francisco de la Torre, whose verses were issued by Quevedo in 1631. So marked is this resemblance that, as M. Ernest Mérimée has written:--"Un critique, que le paradoxe n'effraierait point, pourrait, sans trop de peine, soutenir l'identité de Francisco de la Torre et de Francisco de Figueroa." See his admirable _Essai sur la vie et les œuvres de Francisco de Quevedo_ (Paris, 1886), p. 324.

[219] _Brasa_, f., means red-hot coal. The word for 'charcoal' is _carbón_, m.

[220] The Spanish for 'letter' is _carta_, f.; for a 'pack of cards' _pliego de cartas_, m.

[221] i.e. a riddle. The Spanish is _¿qué es cosa y cosa?_ a phrase equivalent to our 'What may this pretty thing be?'

END OF GALATEA.

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GLASGOW: PRINTED AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS BY ROBERT MACLEHOSE AND CO.