Chapter VIII: Book I (3)

'Your lovely presence, sweet shepherdesses, and pleasant converse,' replied Teolinda, 'make me hope so; but my poor fortune compels me to fear the contrary. Yet, come what may, I must now tell you what I have promised you. With the freedom I have told you, and in the pursuits I have related to you, I passed my life so joyously and peacefully that desire knew not what to bid me do, until avenging love came to exact from me a strict account for the small account in which I held him, wherein he vanquished me in such a way that though I am his slave I fancy that he is not yet paid nor satisfied. It happened then, that one day (which would have been for me the happiest of the days of my life, had not time and season brought such a decrease to my joys), I went with other shepherdesses of our village to cut branches and gather rushes and flowers and green sword-lilies to adorn the temple and streets of our native place; for the following day was a most high festival, and the inhabitants of our hamlet were bound by vow and promise to keep it. We chanced to pass all together through a delightful wood which is situated between the village and the river, where we found a group of graceful shepherds, who were spending the heat of the glowing noon-tide in the shade of the green trees. When they saw us, we were at once recognised by them, for they were all cousins or brothers or kinsmen of ours, and coming to meet us and learning from us the purpose we had in view, they persuaded and constrained us with courteous words not to go farther, for that some of them would fetch the branches and flowers for which we were going. And so, being overcome by their prayers--they were so earnest--we granted their desire, and forthwith six of the youngest, equipped with their bill-hooks, went off in great glee to bring us the green spoils we sought. We girls (there were six of us) went to where the other shepherds stood; and they received us with all courtesy, especially a strange shepherd who was there, known to none of us, who was of such noble grace and spirit that all stood wondering on seeing him, but I stood wondering and overcome. I know not what to tell you, shepherdesses, save that as soon as my eyes beheld him, I felt my heart grow tender and there began to course through all my veins a frost that set me aflame, and without knowing why, I felt my soul rejoice to have set eyes on the handsome face of the unknown shepherd; and, in a moment, though I was inexperienced in the ways of love, I recognised that it was love that had stricken me; straightway had I wished to make my plaint of him, if time and circumstances had permitted. In short I then remained as now I am, overcome and filled with love, though with more hope of recovery than I now possess. Ah! how often in that hour did I long to go to Lydia, who was with us, and say to her: "Forgive me, Lydia dear, for the discourteous reply I gave you the other day, for I would have you know that now I have more experience of the woe you complained of than you yourself!" One thing fills me with wonder, how all the maidens there failed to see from the workings of my face the secrets of my heart, and the cause of this must have been that all the shepherds turned to the stranger and begged him to finish the singing of a song he had begun before we came up. He, without waiting to be pressed, continued the song he had begun, with so exquisite and marvellous a voice that all who listened to it were transported at hearing it. Then at last I yielded myself all in all to all that love demanded, without there being left in me more desire than if I had never had any for anything in my life. And, although I was more entranced than all on hearing the shepherd's sweet melody, yet I did not fail to lend the greatest attention to what he sang in his verses; for love had already brought me to such a pass that it would have touched me to the soul, had I heard him singing a lover's themes, since I would have fancied that his thoughts were already engaged, and perchance in a quarter where mine might have no share in what they desired. But what he then sang was nothing but praises of the shepherd's lot and the peaceful life of the fields, and some useful counsels for the preservation of the flock; whereat I was not a little pleased; for it seemed to me that if the shepherd had been in love, he would have treated of naught but his love, since it is the way of lovers to think time ill-spent which is spent on aught save extolling and praising the cause of their griefs or joys. Mark, friends, in how short a space I became mistress in the school of love. The end of the shepherd's song and the first sight of those who came with the branches occurred at the same moment; and the youths, to one who saw them from afar, looked for all the world like a little hillock moving along trees and all, as they came in staid procession covered with branches. As they came near us, the six all raised their voices, and, one beginning and all replying, with tokens of the greatest joy and with many merry shouts, began a graceful chant. Amidst this joy and happiness they came nearer than I wished, for they deprived me of the happiness I felt at the sight of the shepherd. When they had laid down their green burden, we saw that each had a lovely garland entwined round his arm, composed of various charming flowers, which with graceful words they presented, one to each of us, offering to carry the branches to the village; but we, full of joy, thanked them for their fair courtesy and wished to return to the village, when Eleuco, an old shepherd who was there, said to us: "It will be well, fair shepherdesses, that you should repay us for what our youths have done for you by leaving us the garlands you are taking away over and above what you came to seek; but it must be on condition that you give them to whomsoever you think fit, with your own hands." "If you will be satisfied by so small a return from us," replied one of the maidens, "I for my part am content," and taking the garland with both hands placed it on the head of a gallant cousin of hers. The others, guided by this example, gave theirs to different youths who were there, all of them their kinsmen. I who remained to the last, and had no kinsman there, affecting a certain indifference, went up to the strange shepherd and placed the garland on his head, saying to him: "For two reasons I give you this, fair youth, one, for the pleasure you have given us all by your charming song, the other, because in our village it is our custom to honour strangers." All the bystanders were delighted with my action, but how can I tell you what my soul felt when I saw myself so near to him who had stolen it away? I can only say that I would have given any happiness I could have wished for at that moment (save that of loving him), to be able to encircle his neck with my arms as I encircled his brows with the garland. The shepherd bowed to me and with well-chosen words thanked me for the favour I did him, and as he took his leave of me, stealing the opportunity from the many eyes that were there, with low voice said to me: "I have rewarded you, fair shepherdess, better than you think, for the garland you have given me; you take a pledge with you, and if you know how to value it, you will perceive that you remain my debtor." I would gladly have answered him, but such was the haste my companions imposed on me that I had no chance of replying to him. In this wise I returned to the village with a heart so different from that wherewith I had set out that I myself marvelled at myself. Company was irksome to me, and every thought that came to me and did not tend to thinking of my shepherd, with much haste I strove forthwith to put away from my mind as unworthy to occupy the place that was full of loving cares. I know not how in so short a time I became changed into a being other than that of old; for I no longer lived in myself but in Artidoro (for such is the name of the half of my soul I go seeking). Wherever I turned my eyes, I seemed to see his face; whatever I heard, straightway his gentle music and melody sounded in my ears; nowhere did I move my feet but I had given my life, if he had desired it, to find him there; in food I did not find the wonted savour nor did my hands succeed in finding aught to give it. In a word, all my senses were changed from their former state, nor did my soul work through them as it was used to do. In the consideration of the new Teolinda who was born within me, and in the contemplation of the shepherd's grace that remained imprinted on my soul, all that day passed away from me, and the night preceding the solemn festival; and when this came, it was celebrated with the greatest rejoicing and enthusiasm by all the inhabitants of our village and of the neighbouring places. After the sacred offerings in the temple were ended and the ceremonies due performed, well-nigh most of the people of the hamlet came together in a broad square before the temple, beneath the shade of four ancient leafy poplars which were therein, and all forming a circle, left a space for the youths from near and far to disport themselves in honour of the festival in various pastoral games. Straightway on the instant a goodly number of fit and lusty shepherds showed themselves in the square, and giving joyous tokens of their youth and skill, began a thousand graceful games. Now they tossed the heavy caber, now they showed the lightness of their supple limbs in unwonted leaps, now they revealed their great strength and dexterous craft in complicated wrestling bouts, now they proved the swiftness of their feet in long races, each one striving so to acquit himself in all that he might win the first prize out of the many the chief men of the village had offered for the best who should excel in such sports; but in these I have mentioned, and in many others which I pass by so as not to be tedious, none of all the neighbours or men of the district present achieved as much as my Artidoro, who chose by his presence to honour and gladden our festival, and to carry off the highest honour and prize in all the games that were held. Such, shepherdesses, was his skill and spirit, so great the praises all gave him, that I grew proud, and an unwonted joy revelled in my breast at the mere reflection that I had known to fill my thoughts so well. But despite this it gave me very great grief that Artidoro, being a stranger, would have soon to depart from our village; and, if he went away without at least knowing what he took from me--that is, my soul--what a life would be mine in his absence, or how could I forget my sorrow, at least by lamenting, since I had no one to complain of save myself? Whilst I was occupied with these fancies, the festival and rejoicing ended; and when Artidoro would have taken leave of the shepherds, his friends, they all joined in asking him to spend with them the eight remaining days of the festival, if nothing more pleasing prevented it. "Nothing can give me greater pleasure, kind shepherds," replied Artidoro, "than to serve you in this and all else that your wish may be; for although it was my wish now to go and seek a brother of mine, who has for a few days been missing from our village, I will fulfil your desire, since it is I who gain thereby." All thanked him greatly, and were pleased at his remaining; but I was more so, thinking that in those eight days an opportunity could not fail to present itself to me, when I might reveal to him what I could no longer conceal. We spent nearly all that night in dances and games, and in telling one another the feats we had seen the shepherds perform that day, saying: "Such a one danced better than such a one, though so and so knew more turns than so and so; Mingo threw Bras, but Bras ran better than Mingo;" and finally, all came to the conclusion that Artidoro, the strange shepherd, bore off the palm from all, each one praising in detail his graces one by one; and all these praises, I have already said, redounded to my delight. When the morning of the day after the festival came, before fresh dawn lost the pearly dew from her lovely locks, and the sun had fully displayed his rays on the peaks of the neighbouring mountains, some twelve of us shepherdesses, the most admired of the village, came together, and, linking hands, to the sound of a flageolet and a bagpipe, weaving and unweaving intricate turns and dance-movements, we went from the village to a green meadow not far away, giving great pleasure to all who saw our mazy dance. And fortune, which so far was guiding my affair from good to better, ordained that in that same meadow we should find all the shepherds of the place, and Artidoro with them. When they saw us, straightway attuning the sound of a tabor they had to that of our pipes, they came forth to meet us with the same measure and dance, mingling with us in bewildering but well-ordered maze; and as the instruments changed their note, we changed the dance, so that we shepherdesses had to unlink and give our hands to the shepherds; and my good fortune willed that I should chance to give mine to Artidoro. I know not, my friends, how to describe fully to you what I felt at such a moment, unless by telling you that I was so perturbed, that I failed to keep fitting step in the dance; so much so that Artidoro was obliged to draw me violently after him, in order that the thread of the measured dance might not be broken if he let me go. Seizing the opportunity for it, I said to him: "Wherein has my hand offended you, Artidoro, that you press it so hard?" He replied in a voice that could be heard by none: "Nay, what has my soul done to you that you use it so ill?" "My offence is clear," I replied gently; "but for yours, neither do I see it, nor will it be seen." "This is just the mischief," replied Artidoro, "that you can see your way to do evil, but not to cure it." Herewith our discourse ended, for the dancing ended, and I remained happy and thoughtful at what Artidoro had said to me; and though I thought they were loving words, they did not convince me that they came from one in love. Straightway we all, shepherds and shepherdesses, sate down on the green grass; and when we had rested a while from the fatigue of the dances that were over, the aged Eleuco, attuning his instrument, which was a rebeck, to the pipe of another shepherd, asked Artidoro to sing something, for he should so rather than any other, since Heaven had bestowed such talent on him that it were ingratitude to wish to conceal it. Artidoro, thanking Eleuco for the praises he gave him, straightway began to sing some verses; and I fixed them in my memory, since the words he had spoken to me before had given me a suspicion, so that even now I have not forgotten them. Though it may be irksome to you to hear them, I shall have to repeat them to you, only because they are needful for you to understand, stage by stage, through what stages love has brought me to the pass in which I find myself. They are as follows:

Wild, close-confined and gloomy be his night,
Never may he behold the longed-for day,
Incessant and unending be his woe,
Far, far away from bliss, and joy, and laughter,
Ought he to be, wrapt in a living death,
Whoso without sweet Love shall spend his life.

Full though it be of joyousness, yet life
Naught save the shade can be of briefest night,
The veritable counterfeit of death,
If during all the hours that fill the day
It doth not silence every pang of woe,
And gladly, gladly welcome Love's sweet laughter.

Where liveth gentle Love, there liveth laughter,
And where Love dieth, dieth too our life,
Our choicest pleasure is transformed to woe,
Into the darkness of eternal night
Is changed the radiance of the peaceful day,
Life without Love is naught but bitter death.

Dangers wherein the issue is but death
The lover doth not flee: rather with laughter
He seeks his chance and longeth for the day,
When he may offer up his treasured life--
Until he shall behold the last calm night--
Unto Love's flame, and unto Love's sweet woe.

The woe that is of Love, we call not woe,
Nor yet the death that Love bestoweth, death:
Let none to Love's night give the name of night,
Nor call Love's laughter by the name of laughter.
His life alone can be accounted life,
Our only merriment his joyous day.

Oh blest, thrice-blest to me this happy day,
Whereon I can restrain my bitter woe,
Rejoicing that I have bestowed my life
On her who can bestow or life or death!
What will it be, what can I hope save laughter
From that proud face that turns the sun to night?

Love hath my cloudy night to cloudless day
Transformed, to laughter my increasing woe,
And my approaching death to length of life.

These were the verses, fair shepherdesses, which my Artidoro sang that day with wondrous grace and no less pleasure on the part of those that heard him. From them, and from the words he had spoken to me before, I took occasion to consider if by chance the sight of me had caused some new sensation of love in Artidoro's breast; and my suspicion did not turn out so vain, but that he himself justified it to me on our return to the village.'

Teolinda had reached this point in the tale of her love, when the shepherdesses heard a great uproar of shepherds shouting and dogs barking. This caused them to end the discourse they had begun, and to stop and observe through the branches what it was; in this way they saw a pack of hounds crossing a green plain on their right hand, in pursuit of a timid hare, that was coming with all speed to take shelter in the dense underwood. It was not long before the shepherdesses saw it coming to the same place where they were, and going straight to Galatea's side. There, overcome by the fatigue of its long course, and almost as it were safe from the peril nigh at hand, it sank down on the ground with such wearied breath, that it seemed on the point of breathing its last. The hounds pursued it by scent and track, until they came to where the shepherdesses were; but Galatea, taking the timid hare in her arms, checked the vengeful purpose of the eager hounds, for it seemed to her not to be right to fail to defend a creature that had sought her aid. Soon after there approached some shepherds, following the hounds and the hare; and amongst them came Galatea's father, out of respect for whom Florisa, Teolinda and she went out to meet him with due courtesy. He and the shepherds were filled with wonder at Teolinda's beauty, and desired to know who she was, for they saw clearly that she was a stranger. Galatea and Florisa were not a little annoyed at their approach, seeing that it had robbed them of the pleasure of learning the issue of Teolinda's love; and they asked her to be good enough not to leave their company for some days, if the accomplishment of her desires were not by chance hindered thereby.

'Nay, rather,' replied Teolinda, 'it suits me to remain a day or two on this bank, to see if they can be accomplished; and on this account, as also not to leave unfinished the story I have begun, I must do what you bid me.'

Galatea and Florisa embraced her, and offered her their friendship anew, and to serve her to the best of their power. Meanwhile Galatea's father and the other shepherds, having spread their cloaks on the margin of the clear stream, and drawn from their wallets some country fare, invited Galatea and her companions to eat with them. They accepted the invitation, and, sitting down forthwith, they sated their hunger, which was beginning to weary them as the day was already far spent. In the course of these doings, and of some stories the shepherds told to pass the time, the accustomed hour approached for returning to the village. Straightway Galatea and Florisa, returning to their flocks, collected them once more, and, in the company of fair Teolinda and the other shepherds, gradually made their way to the hamlet; and at the break of the hill where that morning they had happened on Elicio, they all heard the pipe of the unloving Lenio, a shepherd in whose breast love could never take up his abode; and thereat he lived in such joy and content, that in whatever converse or gathering of shepherds he found himself, his sole intent was to speak ill of love and lovers, and all his songs tended to this end. By reason of this strange disposition of his, he was known by all the shepherds in all those parts, and by some he was loathed, by others held in esteem. Galatea and those who came there stopped to listen, to see if Lenio was singing anything, as was his wont, and straightway they saw him give his pipe to a companion, and begin to sing what follows to its sound:

LENIO.
An idle careless thought that wanders free,
A foolish vaunting fancy of the mind,
A something that no being hath nor kind,
Nor yet foundation, nursed by memory,
A grief that takes the name of jollity,
An empty hope that passes on the wind,
A tangled night where none the day may find,
A straying of the soul that will not see.

These are the very roots wherefrom, I swear,
This old chimera fabled hath its birth,
Which beareth o'er the world the name of Love.
The soul that thus on Love doth set its care,
Deserveth to be banished from the earth,
And win no shelter in the heavens above.

At the time that Lenio was singing what you have heard, Elicio and Erastro had already come up with their flocks in the company of the hapless Lisandro; and Elicio, thinking that Lenio's tongue in speaking ill of love went beyond what was right, wished clearly to show him his error, and, adopting the very theme of the verses he had sung, at the moment Galatea, Florisa, Teolinda and the other shepherds came up, to the sound of Erastro's pipe he began to sing in this wise:

ELICIO.
Whosoever keepeth Love,
In his breast a prisoner close,
Hurl him down from heaven above,
Give him not on earth repose.

Love a virtue is unending,
Virtues many more attaining,
Semblance after semblance gaining,
To the primal cause ascending.
Whosoever from such love,
Shall be banished by his woes;
Hurl him down from heaven above,
Grant him not on earth repose.

A fair form, a lovely face,
Though but mortal, doomed to fade,
Are but copies, where portrayed
We may see the heavenly grace.
Grace on earth who doth not love,
Nor to it allegiance owes,
Shall be hurled from heaven above,
Nor on earth shall find repose.

Love, when taken quite apart,
And untainted with alloy,
Filleth all the world with joy,
Even as Apollo's dart,
Whoso hath mistrust of Love,
Love that hides its blessing close,
Shall not win to heaven above,
But in deepest earth repose.

For a thousand joys a debtor,
Each of us to Love is seen,
For 'tis Love that turns, I ween,
Bad to good, and good to better.
He who lets his fancies rove,
E'en a hair's breadth from Love's woes,
Shall not win to heaven above,
Nor on earth find sure repose.

Love indeed is infinite,
If but honour be its stay;
But the love that dies away
Is not love, but appetite.
Whoso shall the veil of love
Raise not, but his heart shall close,
Slay him, lightning from above!
Earth, permit him not repose!

The shepherds given to love felt no small pleasure at seeing how well Elicio defended his view: but the loveless Lenio did not on this account cease to remain firm in his opinion; nay, rather, he sought anew to resume his song and to show in what he sang how ineffectual Elicio's reasonings were to darken the bright truth which, following his judgment, he upheld. But Galatea's father, who was called Aurelio the venerable, said to him:

'Don't weary yourself for the present, discreet Lenio, in seeking to show us in your song what you feel in your heart, for the road from here to the village is short, and it seems to me more time is needed than you think to defend yourself against the many who hold a view contrary to yours. Keep your reasonings for a more convenient spot, for some day you and Elicio with other shepherds will be together at the spring of slates or the stream of palms, where, with greater ease and comfort, you may be able to discuss and make clear your different opinions.'

'The opinion Elicio holds is mere opinion,' replied Lenio, 'but mine is absolute knowledge, and proved, which, sooner or later, forced me to uphold it, seeing that it carried truth with it; but, as you say, there will not fail a time more fitting for this end.'

'This will I arrange,' answered Elicio, 'for it grieves me that so fine an intellect as yours, friend Lenio, should lack what might improve it and enhance it, like the pure and true love whose enemy you show yourself.'

'You are deceived, Elicio,' replied Lenio, 'if you think by specious words and sophisms to make me change principles I would not hold it manly to change.'

'It is as wrong,' said Elicio, 'to persist in wrong, as it is good to persevere in good, and I have always heard my elders say it is the part of the wise to take counsel.'

'I do not deny that,' answered Lenio, 'whenever I see that my judgment is not correct; but so long as experience and reason do not show me the contrary to what they have shown me hitherto, I believe that my opinion is as true as yours is false.'

'If the heretics of love were to be punished,' said Erastro at this point, 'I would begin from this moment, friend Lenio, to cut wood wherewith to burn you for the greatest heretic and enemy that love has.'

'And even though I saw naught of love, save that you, Erastro, follow it, and are of the band of lovers,' replied Lenio, 'that alone would suffice to make me renounce it with a hundred thousand tongues, if a hundred thousand I had.'

'Do you think then, Lenio,' answered Erastro, 'that I am not fit to be a lover?'

'Nay,' replied Lenio, 'I think that men of your disposition and understanding are fitted to be among love's servants; for he who is lame falls to the ground at the slightest stumble, and he who has little wisdom, wants but little time to lose it all; and as for those who follow the banner of this your valorous captain, I for my part hold that they are not the wisest in the world; and if they have been, they ceased to be it, the moment they fell in love.'

Great was the displeasure Erastro felt at what Lenio said, and thus he answered him:

'I think, Lenio, your insane reasonings deserve another punishment than words; but I hope that some day you will pay for what you have just said, without being aided by what you might say in your defence.'

'If I knew of you, Erastro,' answered Lenio, 'that you were as brave as you are fond, your threats would not fail to fill me with dread: but, as I know you are as backward in the one, as in the other you are to the fore, they cause laughter in me rather than terror.'

Here Erastro lost all patience, and if it had not been for Lisandro and Elicio, who placed themselves between, he had replied to Lenio with his fists; for by this time his tongue, confused with rage, could scarce perform its office. Great was the pleasure all felt at the sprightly quarrel of the shepherds, and more at the rage and displeasure Erastro displayed; for it was necessary that Galatea's father should make peace between Lenio and him, though Erastro, if it had not been for fear of losing the respect of his lady's father, would in no way have made it. As soon as the matter was ended, all with rejoicing went their way to the village, and whilst they were going, the fair Florisa, to the sound of Galatea's pipe, sang this sonnet:

FLORISA.
With increase may my tender lambs be crowned
Amidst the grassy mead or forest's fold:
Throughout the summer's heat or winter's cold
May herbage green and cooling streams abound.
May I through all my days and nights be found
Wrapt but in dreamings of a shepherd's life;
In no wise yielding to Love's petty strife,
Nor may his childish acts have power to wound.

Here one Love's countless blessings doth proclaim,
Love's fruitless cares another maketh known.
I cannot say if both be brought to shame,
Nor yet to whom to give the victor's crown.
This much I know: that many Love by name
May call, yet few are chosen for his own.

Short indeed was the road to the shepherds, beguiled and entertained by the charming voice of Florisa, who ceased not her song till they were quite near the village and the huts of Elicio and Erastro, who stopped there with Lisandro, first taking leave of the venerable Aurelio, Galatea, and Florisa, who went with Teolinda to the village, the remaining shepherds going each to where he had his hut. That same night the hapless Lisandro asked leave of Elicio to return to his country or to where he might, in harmony with his desire, finish the little of life that, as he thought, remained to him. Elicio with all the arguments he could urge on him, and with the endless offers of true friendship he made him, could by no means prevail on him to remain in his company even for a few days; and so the luckless shepherd, embracing Elicio with many tears and sighs, took leave of him, promising to inform him of his condition wherever he might be. Elicio, having accompanied him half a league from his hut, again embraced him closely; and making again fresh offers, they parted, Elicio being in great grief for what Lisandro suffered. And so he returned to his hut to spend the greater part of the night in amorous fancies and to await the coming day that he might enjoy the happiness the sight of Galatea caused him. And she, when she reached her village, desiring to learn the issue of Teolinda's love, arranged so that Florisa, Teolinda and she might be alone that night; and finding the opportunity she desired, the love-sick shepherdess continued her story as will be seen in the second book.