Galatea

by Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra

Lo, the letters I shall write
On the rough bark of this tree—
Firmer than did faith with thee,
Will they grow in time's despite.
On thy lips thy faith was set,
On thy promises so vain;
Firmer 'gainst the wind-tossed main
Is the rock the gale hath met.

Fearsome art thou, full of bane
As the viper which we press
Under foot—ah, shepherdess,
False as fair, my charm and pain!
Whatsoe'er thy cruelty
Biddeth, I without delay
Will perform; to disobey
Thy command was ne'er in me.

I shall far in exile die
That contented thou mayst live,
But beware lest Love perceive
How thou scorn'st my misery.
In Love's dance, though Love may place
Loyal heart in bondage strait,
Yet it may not change its state,
But must stay, to shun disgrace.

Thou in beauty dost excel
Every maiden on this earth,
And I thought that from thy worth
Thou wert firm in love as well.
Now my love the truth doth know
'Twas that Nature wished to limn
In thy face an angel, Time
In thy mood that changes so.

Wouldst thou know where I have gone,
Where my woeful life shall end,
Mark my blood, thy footsteps bend
By the path my blood hath shown.
And though naught with thee doth well
Of our love and harmony
Do not to the corse deny
E'en the sad and last farewell.

Thou wilt be without remorse,
Harder than the diamond stone,
If thou makest not thy moan,
When thou dost behold my corse.
If in life thou hatedst me,
Then amidst my hapless plight
I shall count my death delight
To be dead and wept by thee.

'What words will suffice, shepherdesses, to make you understand the extremity of grief that seized upon my heart, when I clearly understood that the verses I had read were my beloved Artidoro's? But there is no reason why I should make too much of it to you, since it did not go as far as was needed to end my life, which thenceforward I have held in such loathing, that I would not feel, nor could there come to me, a greater pleasure than to lose it. So great and of such a kind were the sighs I then gave forth, the tears I shed, the piteous cries I uttered, that none who had heard me but would have taken me for mad. In short, I remained in such a state, that, without considering what I owed to my honour, I determined to forsake my dear native land, beloved parents and cherished brothers, and to leave my simple flock to take care of itself; and, without heeding aught else save what I deemed to be necessary for my satisfaction, that very morning, embracing a thousand times the bark where my Artidoro's hand had been, I departed from that place with the intent to come to these banks where I know Artidoro has and makes his abode, to see if he has been so inconsiderate and cruel to himself, as to put into practice what he left written in his last verses: for if it were so, henceforward I promise you, my friends, that the desire and haste with which I shall follow him in death, shall be no less than the willingness with which I have loved him in life. But, woe is me! I verily believe there is no foreboding which may be to my hurt but will turn out true, for it is now nine days since I came to these cool banks, and all this while I have learnt no tidings of what I desire; and may it please God that when I learn them, it may not be the worst I forebode. Here you see, discreet maidens, the mournful issue of my life of love. I have now told you who I am and what I seek; if you have any tidings of my happiness, may fortune grant you the greatest you desire, so that you do not withhold it from me.'

With such tears did the loving shepherdess accompany the words she uttered, that he would have had a heart of steel who had not grieved at them. Galatea and Florisa, who were naturally of a pitying disposition, could not hold theirs back, nor yet did they fail to comfort her with the most soothing and helpful words in their power, counselling her to remain some days in their company; that perhaps her fortune would in the meantime cause her to learn some tidings of Artidoro, since Heaven would not allow a shepherd so discreet as she depicted him by reason of so strange an error to end the course of his youthful years; that it might be that Artidoro, his thought having in course of time returned to better course and purpose, might return to see the native land he longed for and his sweet friends; and that she might, therefore, hope to find him there better than elsewhere. The shepherdess, somewhat consoled by these and other reasonings, was pleased to remain with them, thanking them for the favour they did her, and for the desire they showed to secure her happiness. At this moment the serene night, urging on her starry car through the sky, gave token that the new day was approaching; and the shepherdesses, in desire and need of rest, arose and repaired from the cool garden to their dwellings. But scarce had the bright sun with his warm rays scattered and consumed the dense mist, which on cool mornings is wont to spread through the air, when the three shepherdesses, leaving their lazy couches, returned to the wonted pursuit of grazing their flock, Galatea and Florisa with thoughts far different from that cherished by the fair Teolinda, who went her way so sad and thoughtful that it was a marvel. And for this reason, Galatea, to see if she might in some way distract her, begged her to lay aside her melancholy for a while, and be so good as to sing some verses to the sound of Florisa's pipe. To this Teolinda replied:

'If I thought that the great cause I have for weeping, despite the slight cause I have for singing, would be diminished in any way, you might well forgive me, fair Galatea, for not doing what you bid me; but as I already know by experience that what my tongue utters in song, my heart confirms with weeping, I will do what you wish, since thereby I shall satisfy your desire without going contrary to mine.'

And straightway the shepherdess Florisa played her pipe, to the sound of which Teolinda sang this sonnet: