Galatea

by Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra

Scarce the blessing from on high
Had unto my fancy come,
When, as gently they passed by,
Heaven, fate, and bitter doom,
With it from my soul did fly.
Whoso for my grievous plight
Fain would mourn, let him strike sail,
Into the haven of delight
Glide more gently 'fore the gale
Than Time that passes swift of flight.

Who that hath such woe as mine
Would not faint beneath his fate?
From such woes we may divine
Joy to be a featherweight,
Sorrow lead from deepest mine.
Though my fortune be not gay,
Though I falter to my knees,
Yet this blessing is my stay:
He who robbed me of my peace
Soon my life will take away.

Soon the shepherdess ended her song, but not the tears which made it more sad. Moved to compassion thereby, Galatea and Florisa came out from where they lay concealed, and with loving and courteous words greeted the sad shepherdess, saying to her among other things:

'So may Heaven, fair shepherdess, show itself favourable to what you would ask of it, and so may you obtain from it what you desire, if you tell us (allowing that it be not displeasing to you), what fortune or what destiny has brought you to this region, for, according to the experience we have of it, we have never seen you on these banks. Now that we have heard what you have just sung, gathering from it that your heart has not the calm it needs, and by reason of the tears you have shed, of which your lovely eyes gave witness, in the name of fair courtesy we are bound to give you all the solace in our power; and if your evil be of those that do not permit of consolation you will at least perceive in us a good will to serve you.'

'I know not, fair maidens,' replied the strange shepherdess, 'how I shall be able to repay you save by silence for the courteous offers you make me, unless by saying no more about it, and being grateful for it, and valuing them as much as they deserve it, and by not withholding from you what you wish to learn from me, although it would be better for me to pass by in silence the circumstances of my misfortunes, than to tell them and give you cause to count me immodest.'

'Your countenance and the gentle bearing that Heaven has given you,' replied Galatea, 'do not betoken an intellect so coarse as to make you do a thing in telling which afterwards you must needs lose reputation; and since your appearance and words have in so short a time made this impression on us, that we already count you discreet, prove to us, by telling us your life, whether your misfortune comes up to your discretion.'

'As far as I believe,' replied the shepherdess, 'both are on a level, unless, indeed, fate has given me more judgment, the more to feel the griefs that present themselves; but I am quite sure that my woes exceed my discretion, in the same degree as all my craft is overcome by them, since I have none wherewith to cure them. And that experience may set you right, if you wish to hear me, fair maidens, I will tell you, in as few words as possible, how, from the great understanding you judge I possess, has sprung the woe which surpasses it.'

'With nothing will you better satisfy our desires, discreet maiden,' replied Florisa, 'than with telling us what we have asked you.'

'Let us retire, then,' said the shepherdess, 'from this spot, and seek another, where, without being seen or disturbed, I may be able to tell you what it grieves me to have promised you, for I foresee that it will not cost more to lose the good opinion I have gained with you, than to reveal my thoughts to you, however late, if perhaps yours have not been touched by the affliction I am suffering.'

Desirous that the shepherdess should fulfil her promise, straightway the three arose, and betook themselves to a secret and retired place, known already to Galatea and Florisa, where, beneath the pleasant shade of some leafy myrtles, without being seen by anybody, all three could be seated. Forthwith, with exquisite grace and charm, the strange shepherdess began to speak in this wise: