On the invasion of Hungary by Solyman, in 1532, the emperor repaired to Vienna to undertake the war in person. The campaign was carried on without any action of moment; but Garcilaso was engaged in various skirmishes, and saw enough of war to fill him with horror at its results.
At this time, however, he fell into disgrace at court. One of his cousins, a son of don Pedro Lasso, aspired clandestinely to the hand of donna Isabel, daughter of don Luis de la Cueva, maid of honour to the empress. We are ignorant of the reason wherefore Charles was opposed to this marriage, and the consequent necessity of carrying on the amour secretly. Garcilaso befriended the lovers. The intrigue being discovered, the emperor was highly incensed; he banished the cousin, and exiled Garcilaso to an island of the Danube, an imprisonment which he commemorates in an ode, of which we may quote some stanzas from Mr. Wiffen's translation, which characterise the disposition of the man; no courtier or man of the world he, repining at disgrace and disappointment; but a poet, ready to find joy in solitude, and to adorn adversity with the rainbow hues of the imagination.
"TO THE DANUBE.
With the mild sound of clear swift waves, the Danube's arms of foam
Circle a verdant isle which peace has made her chosen home;
Where the fond poet might repair from weariness and strife,
And in the sunshine of sweet song consume his happy life.
Here evermore the smiling spring goes scattering odorous flowers,
And nightingales and turtle doves, in depth of myrtle bowers,
Turn disappointment into hope, turn sadness to delight,
With magic of their fond laments, which cease not day nor night.
Here am I placed, or sooth to say, alone, 'neath foreign skies,
Forced in arrest, and easy 'tis in such a paradise
To force a meditative man, whose own desires would doom
Himself with pleasure to a world all redolence and bloom.
One thought alone distresses me, if I whilst banished sink
'Midst such misfortunes to the grave, lest haply they should think
It was my complicated ills that caused my death, while I
Know well that if I die 'twill be because I wish to die.
* * * *
River divine, rich Danube! thou the bountiful and strong,
That through fierce nations roll'st thy waves rejoicingly along,
Since only but by rushing through thy drowning billows deep,
These scrolls can hence escape to tell the noble words I weep.
If wrecked in undeciphered loss on some far foreign land,
They should by any chance be found upon the desert sand,
Since they upon thy willowed shore must drift, where'er they are,
Their relics let the kind blue waves with murmured hymns inter.
Ode of my melancholy hours! last infant of my lyre!
Although in booming waves it be thy fortune to expire,
Grieve not, since I, howe'er from holy rites debarred,
Have seen to all that touches thee with catholic regard.
Less, less had been thy life, if thou hadst been but ranked among
Those without record, that have risen and died upon my tongue;
Whose utter want of sympathy, and haughtiness austere.
Has been the cause of this—from me thou very soon shalt hear."
It is not known how long his exile endured, but certainly not long; he was recalled, and attended the emperor in his expedition against Tunis.
The son of a potter of Lesbos, turning corsair, raised himself to notice and power under the name of Barbarossa. He possessed himself of Algiers by treachery, and then, protected by the grand signor, he attacked Tunis, and drove out the king Muley Hassan. Muley solicited the aid of the emperor, and Charles, animated by a desire to punish a pirate whose cruelties had desolated many a Christian family, put himself at the head of an armament to invade Tunis. Barbarossa exerted himself to defend the city, and, in particular, fortified the citadel, named Goletta, and garrisoned it with 6000 Turks. Immediately on landing, the emperor invested the city; sallies and skirmishes became frequent, in one of which Garcilaso was wounded in the face and hand. Goletta fell, despite the vigorous defence; but Barbarossa did not despair: he assembled an army of 150,000 men, and, confiding in numbers, resolved to offer battle to the Christians. Garcilaso served on this occasion in a division of the imperial army, commanded by the marquis de Mondejar, a division at first left as a rear guard, but ordered afterwards to advance to support some newly raised Spanish regiments commanded by the duke of Alva. The marquis de Mondejar was badly wounded and carried from the field; Garcilaso, seeing the danger to which the troops were exposed in the absence of the general, rushed forward to support them by the example of his valour. His gallantry had nearly proved fatal: he was wounded and surrounded, and must have been slain, but for a Neapolitan noble, Federigo Carafa, who rescued him at the peril of his life. By great efforts he succeeded in dispersing the multitude, and bore him back in safety, half spent with toil, thirst, and loss of blood.[17] The day ended in the defeat of Barbarossa; Muley Hassan was restored to his throne; and Charles returned to Italy in triumph.
After this expedition, Garcilaso spent some time at Naples and Sicily. During his residence there, he is said to have written his eclogues and elegies, which are the most beautiful of his poems. There is something so truly poetic in the site, the clime, the atmosphere of Naples, that the most prosaic spirit must feel its influence. There Petrarch was examined by king Robert, and declared worthy of the laurel crown; there he delivered that oration on poetry that won the king to admire the heretofore neglected art, and inspired the young Boccaccio with that enthusiastic love for the Muses, which lasted to his dying day. There (and Garcilaso seems to have felt deeply the influence of these poets) Virgil and Sannazar wrote. The Spanish poet particularly loved and admired Virgil. Imbued by his spirit, he emulated his elegance and harmony, while he surpassed him in tender pathos.
One of his elegies to Boscan is dated from the foot of Etna. It does not rank among the best of his poems; but it is agreeable to preserve proofs of friendship between these gifted men. It a little jars, however, with our feelings, that he in it alludes to some lady of his love, though he was now married; however, there is a sort of poetic imaginative hue thrown over this elegy, which permits us to attribute his love complaints rather to the memory of past times and the poetic temperament, than to inconstancy of disposition. Garcilaso's poetry is refined and pure in all its sentiments, though full, at the same time, of tenderness. I subjoin a few stanzas from the elegy in question, such as give individuality and interest to the character of the poet:—
"Boscan! here where the Mantuan has inurned
Anchises' ashes to eternal fame,
We, Cæsar's hosts, from conquests are returned;
Some of their toils the promised fruit to claim—
Some to make virtue both the end and aim
Of action,—or would have the world suppose
And say so, loud in public to declaim
Against such selfishness; whilst yet heaven knows
They act in secret all the meanness they oppose.
For me, a happy medium I observe,
For never has it entered in my scheme,
To strive for much more silver than may serve
To lift me gracefully from each extreme
Of thrifty meanness, thriftless pride; I deem
The men contemptible that stoop to use
The one or other, that delight to seem
Too close, or inconsiderate in their views:
In error's moonlight maze their way both worthies find.
* * * *
Yet leave I not the Muses, but the more
For this perplexity with them commune,
And with the charm of their delicious love
Vary my life, and waste the summer noon;
Thus pass my hours beguiled; but out of tune
The lyre will sometimes be, when trials prove
The anxious lyrist: to the country soon
Of the sweet Siren shall I hence remove,
Yet, as of yore, the land of idlesse, ease, and love.
* * * *
But how, O how shall I be sure, that here
My evil genius, in the change I seek,
Is not still sworn against me? this strong fear
It is that chills my heart, and renders weak
The wish I feel to visit that antique
Italian city, whence my eyes derive
Such exquisite delight, with tears they speak
Of the contrasting griefs my heart that rive;
And with them up in arms against me here I strive.