BOOK III.
The joyful uproar there was that night in the village, on the occasion of Daranio's wedding, did not prevent Elicio, Thyrsis, Damon and Erastro from settling down together in a place where, without being disturbed by anyone, Silerio might continue the story he had begun, and he, when all together had given him pleasing silence, continued in this wise:
'From the feigned stanzas to Blanca, which I have told you I repeated to Timbrio, he was satisfied that my pain proceeded not from love of Nisida, but of her sister; and with this assurance, begging my forgiveness for the false idea he had had about me, he again entrusted me with his cure; and so I, forgetful of my own, did not neglect in the least what concerned his. Some days passed, during which fortune did not show me an opportunity as open as I could wish for disclosing to Nisida the truth of my thoughts, though she kept asking me how it was going with my friend in his love-affair, and if his lady as yet had any knowledge of it. In reply to this I said to her that the fear of offending her still kept me from venturing to tell her anything; whereat Nisida was very angry, calling me coward and of little sense, and adding to this that since I was playing the coward, either Timbrio did not feel the grief I reported of him, or I was not so true a friend of his as I said. All this induced me to make up my mind and reveal myself at the first opportunity, which I did one day when she was alone. She listened with strange silence to all I had to say to her, and I, as best I could, extolled to her Timbrio's worth, and the true love he had for her, which was so strong that it had brought me to take up so lowly a pursuit as that of a buffoon, merely to have an opportunity of telling her what I was telling her. To these I added other reasonings which Nisida must needs have thought were not without reason; but she would not show by words then what she could not afterwards keep concealed by deeds; rather with dignity and rare modesty she reproved my boldness, rebuked my daring, blamed my words and daunted my confidence, but not in such a way as to banish me from her presence, which was what I feared most; she merely ended by telling me to have henceforward more regard for what was due to her modesty, and to see to it that the artifice of my false dress should not be discovered—an ending this which closed and finished the tragedy of my life, since I understood thereby that Nisida would give ear to Timbrio's plaints. In what breast could or can be contained the extremity of grief that was then concealed in mine, since the end of its greatest desire was the finish and end of its happiness? I was gladdened by the good beginning I had given to Timbrio's cure, and this gladness redounded to my hurt, for it seemed to me, as was the truth, that, on seeing Nisida in another's power, my own was ended. Oh mighty force of true friendship, how far dost thou extend! how far didst thou constrain me! since I myself, impelled by thy constraint, by my own contriving whetted the knife which was to cut short my hopes, which, dying in my soul, lived and revived in Timbrio's, when he learned from me all that had passed with Nisida. But her way with him and me was so coy that she never showed at all that she was pleased with my solicitude or Timbrio's love, nor yet was she disdainful in such a manner that her displeasure and aversion made us both abandon the enterprise. This went on till it came to Timbrio's knowledge that his enemy Pransiles, the gentleman he had wronged in Xeres, being desirous of satisfying his honour, was sending him a challenge, indicating to him a free and secure field on an estate in the Duke of Gravina's territory, and giving him a term of six months from that date to the day of the combat. The care induced by this news did not cause him to become careless in what concerned his love-affair, but rather, by fresh solicitude on my part and services on his, Nisida came to demean herself in such a way that she did not show herself disdainful though Timbrio looked at her and visited at the house of her parents, preserving in all a decorum as honourable as befitted her worth. The term of the challenge now drawing near, Timbrio, seeing that the journey was inevitable for him, determined to depart, and before doing so, he wrote to Nisida a letter, of such a kind that with it he ended in a moment what I during many months and with many words had not begun. I have the letter in my memory, and to render my story complete, I will not omit to tell you that it ran thus:
TIMBRIO TO NISIDA
All hail to Nisida, from a loving swain
Who is not hale nor ever hopes to be,
Until his health from thine own hand he gain.
These lines, I fear, will surely gain for me,
Though they be written in my very blood,
The abhorred reproach of importunity.
And yet I may not, e'en although I would,
Escape Love's torment, for my passions bear
My soul along amidst their cruel flood.
A fiery daring and a chilly fear
Encompass me about, and I remain,
Whilst thou dost read this letter, sad and drear;
For when I write to thee, I do but gain
Ruin if thou dost scorn my words, ah woe!
And spurn my awkward phrases with disdain.
True Heaven is my witness and doth know
If I have not adored thee from the hour
I saw the lovely face that is my foe.
I saw thee and adored—What wouldst thou more?
The peerless semblance of an angel fair
What man is there but straightway would adore?
Upon thy beauty, in the world so rare,
My soul so keenly gazed that on thy face
It could not rest its piercing gaze, for there
Within thy soul it was upon the trace
Of mighty loveliness, a paradise
Giving assurance of a greater grace.
On these rich pinions thou to Heaven dost rise
And on the earth thou sendest dread and pain
Unto the simple, wonder to the wise.
Happy the soul that doth such bliss contain,
And no less happy he who to Love's war
Yields up his own that blissful soul to gain!
Debtor am I unto my fatal star,
That bade me yield to one who doth possess
Within so fair a frame a soul so fair.
To me thy mood, oh lady, doth confess
That I was wrong when I aspired so high,
And covereth with fear my hopefulness.
But on my honest purpose I rely,
I turn a bold face to despondency,
New breath I gain when I to death am nigh.
They say that without hope Love cannot be.
'Tis mere opinion: for I hope no more
And yet the more Love's force doth master me.
I love thee for thy goodness, and adore,
Thy beauty draws me captive in its train,
It was the net Love stretched in love's first hour
That with rare subtlety it might constrain
This soul of mine, careless and fancy-free,
Unto the amorous knot, to know its strain.
Love his dominion and his tyranny
Within some breasts sustains by beauty's aid,
But not within the curious fantasy,
Which looks not on Love's narrow noose displayed
In ringlets of fine gold that satisfy
The heart of him who views them undismayed,
Nor on the breast that he who turns his eye
On breast alone, doth alabaster call
Nor on the wondrous neck of ivory;
But it regards the hidden all in all
And contemplates the thousand charms displayed
Within the soul that succour and enthral.
The charms that are but mortal, doomed to fade,
Unto the soul immortal bring not balm,
Unless it leave the light and seek the shade.
Thy peerless virtue carrieth off the palm,
It maketh of my thoughts its spoil and prey,
And all my lustful passions it doth calm.
They are content and willingly obey,
For by the worth thy merits ever show
They seek their hard and bitter pain to weigh.
I plough the sea and in the sand I sow
When I am doomed by passion's mystic stress
Beyond the viewing of thy face to go.
I know how high thou art; my lowliness
I see, and where the distance is so great,
One may not hope, nor do I hope possess.
Wherefore I find no cure to heal my state,
Numerous my hardships as the stars of night,
Or as the tribes the earth that populate.
I understand what for my soul is right,
I know the better, and the worse attain,
Borne by the love wherein I take delight.
But now, fair Nisida, the point I gain,
Which I with mortal anguish do desire,
Where I shall end the sorrow I sustain.
Uplifted is the hostile arm in ire,
The keen and ruthless sword awaiteth me,
Each with thine anger 'gainst me doth conspire.
Thy wrathful will soon, soon, avenged will be
Upon the vain presumption of my will,
Which was without a reason spurned by thee.
No other pangs nor agonies would fill
With agitation dread my mournful thought,
Though greater than death's agonizing chill,
If I could in my short and bitter lot
But see thee towards my heart-felt wishes kind,
As the reverse I see, that thou art not.
Narrow the path that leads to bliss, I find,
But broad and spacious that which leads to pain;
By my misfortune this hath been designed,
And death, that buttressed is on thy disdain,
By this in anger and in haste doth run,
Eager its triumph o'er my life to gain.
By yonder path my bliss, well-nigh undone,
Departs, crushed by the sternness thou dost show,
Which needs must end my brief life all too soon.
My fate hath raised me to the height of woe
Where I begin e'en now to dread the scorn
And anger of my sore-offended foe.
'Tis that I see the fire wherein I burn
Is ice within thy breast, and this is why
At the last moment I a coward turn.
For if thou dost not show thee my ally,
Of whom will my weak hand be not afraid,
Though strength and skill the more accompany?
What Roman warrior, if thou dost but aid,
Or what Greek captain would oppose my might?
Nay, from his purpose he would shrink dismayed.
I would escape e'en from the direst plight,
And from death's cruel hand away I'd bear
The spoils of victory in his despite.
Thou, thou, alone my lot aloft canst rear
Above all human glory, or abase
Unto the depths below—no bliss is there.
For if, as pure Love had the power to raise,
Fortune were minded to uphold my lot
Safe 'midst the dangers of its lofty place,
My hope which lieth where it hopeth naught,
Itself would see exalted to a height
Above the heaven where reigns the moon, in thought.
Such am I that I now account delight
The evil that thine angry scorn doth give
Unto my soul in such a wondrous plight,
If in thy memory I might see I live,
And that perchance thou dost remember, sweet,
To deal the wound which I as bliss receive.
'Twere easier far for me the tale complete
To tell of the white sands beside the sea,
Or of the stars that make the eighth heaven their seat,
Than all the pain, the grief, the anxiety,
Whereto the rigour of thy cruel disdain
Condemns me, though I have not wounded thee.
Seek not the measure of thy worth to gain
From my humility; if we compare
Loftiness with thee, 'twill on earth remain.
Such as I am I love thee, and I dare
To say that I advance in loving sure
Unto the highest point in Love's career,
Wherefore in merit I am not so poor
That as an enemy thou shouldst me treat—
Rather, methinks, my guerdon should endure.
So great a cruelty doth ill befit
Such loveliness, and where we do perceive
Such worth, there doth ingratitude ill sit.
On thee fain would I call account to give
Of a soul yielded thee; where was it thrown?
How, when my soul is gone, do I yet live?
Didst thou not deign to make my heart thy throne?
What can he give thee more who loves thee more?
Herein how well was thy presumption shown!
I have been soulless from the earliest hour
I saw thee for my bliss and for my pain,
For all were pain if I saw thee no more.
There I of my free heart gave thee the rein,
Thou rulest me, for thee alone I live,
And yet thy power can more than this attain.
Within the flame of pure Love I revive
And am undone, since from the death of Love
I, like a phœnix, straightway life receive.
This would I have thee think all things above,
In faith of this my faith, that it is sure
That I live glowing in the fire of Love,
And that thou canst e'en after death restore
Me unto life, and in a moment guide
From the wild ocean to the peaceful shore.
For Love in thee and power dwell side by side,
And are united, reigning over me.
They waver not nor falter in their pride—
And here I end lest I should weary thee.
'I know not whether it was the reasonings of this letter, or the many I had urged before on Nisida, assuring her of the true love Timbrio had for her, or Timbrio's ceaseless services, or Heaven that had so ordained it, that moved Nisida's heart to call me at the moment she finished reading it, and with tears in her eyes to say to me: "Ah, Silerio, Silerio! I verily believe that you have at the cost of my peace sought to gain your friend's! May the fates that have brought me to this pass make Timbrio's deeds accord with your words; and if both have deceived me, may Heaven take vengeance for my wrong, Heaven which I call to witness for the violence desire does me, making me keep it no longer concealed. But, alas, how light an acquittal is this for so weighty a fault! since I ought rather to die in silence so that my honour might live, than by saying what I now wish to say to you to bury it and end my life." These words of Nisida's made me confused, and yet more the agitation with which she uttered them; and desiring by mine to encourage her to declare herself without any fear, I had not to importune her much, for at last she told me that she not only loved, but adored Timbrio, and that she would always have concealed that feeling had not the compulsion of Timbrio's departure compelled her to disclose it. It is not possible to describe fitly the state I was in, shepherds, on hearing what Nisida said, and the feeling of love she showed she bore to Timbrio; and indeed it is well that a grief which extends so far should be beyond description. Not that I was grieved to see Timbrio loved, but to see myself rendered incapable of ever having happiness, since it was, and is clear, that I neither could nor can live without Nisida; for to see her, as I have said at other times, placed in another's arms, was to sever myself from all pleasure, and if fate granted me any at this pass, it was to consider the welfare of my friend Timbrio, and this was the cause why my death and the declaration of Nisida's love did not occur at one and the same moment. I listened to her as well as I could, and assured her as well as I knew how of the integrity of Timbrio's breast, whereat she replied to me that there was no need to assure her of that, for that she was of such a mind that she could not, nor ought she to, fail to believe me, only asking me, if it were possible, to manage to persuade Timbrio to seek some honourable means to avoid a combat with his foe: and when I replied that this was impossible without his being dishonoured, she was calmed, and taking from her neck some precious relics, she gave them to me that I might give them to Timbrio from her. As she knew her parents were to go and see Timbrio's fight, and would take her and her sister with them, but as she would not have the courage to be present at Timbrio's dire peril, it was also agreed between us that she should pretend to be indisposed, on which pretext she would remain in a pleasure-house where her parents were to lodge, which was half a league from the town where the combat was to take place, and that there she would await her bad or good fortune, according to Timbrio's. She bade me also, in order to shorten the anxiety she would feel to learn Timbrio's fortune, take with me a white kerchief which she gave me, and, if Timbrio conquered, bind it on my arm, and come back to give her the news; and, if he were vanquished, not to bind it, and so she would learn from afar by the token of the kerchief the beginning of her bliss or the end of her life. I promised her to do all she bade me, and taking the relics and the kerchief I took leave of her with the greatest sadness and the greatest joy I ever felt; my little fortune caused the sadness; Timbrio's great fortune the gladness. He learnt from me what I brought him from Nisida, whereat he was so joyous, happy, and proud, that the danger of the battle he awaited he counted as naught, for it seemed to him that in being favoured by his lady, not even death itself would be able to gainsay him. For the present I pass by in silence the exaggerated terms Timbrio used to show himself grateful for what he owed to my solicitude; for they were such that he seemed to be out of his senses while discoursing thereon. Being cheered, then, and encouraged by this good news, he began to make preparations for his departure, taking as seconds a Spanish gentleman, and another, a Neapolitan. And at the tidings of this particular duel countless people of the kingdom were moved to see it, Nisida's parents also going there, taking her and her sister Blanca with them. As it fell to Timbrio to choose weapons, he wished to show that he based his right, not on the advantage they possessed, but on the justice that was his, and so those he chose were the sword and dagger, without any defensive weapon. But few days were wanting to the appointed term, when Nisida and her father, with many other gentlemen, set out from the city of Naples; she, having arrived first, reminded me many times not to forget our agreement; but my wearied memory, which never served save to remind me of things alone that were unpleasing to me, so as not to change its character, forgot as much of what Nisida had told me as it saw was needful to rob me of life, or at least to set me in the miserable state in which I now see myself.'
The shepherds were listening with great attention to what Silerio was relating, when the thread of his story was interrupted by the voice of a hapless shepherd, who was singing among some trees, nor yet so far from the windows of the dwelling where they were, but that all that he said could not fail to be heard. The voice was such that it imposed silence on Silerio, who in no wise wished to proceed, but rather asked the other shepherds to listen to it, since for the little there remained of his story, there would be time to finish it. This would have annoyed Thyrsis and Damon, had not Elicio said to them:
'Little will be lost, shepherds, in listening to the luckless Mireno, who is without doubt the shepherd that is singing, and whom fortune has brought to such a pass that I fancy he hopes for nothing in the way of his happiness.'
'How can he hope for it,' said Erastro, 'if to-morrow Daranio marries the shepherdess Silveria, whom he thought to wed? But in the end Daranio's wealth has had more power with Silveria's parents than the abilities of Mireno.'