BOOK VI.

Such is the cause of our grief-stricken moan, Not ours alone, but all the world's as well, Shepherds, your sad and mournful chant intone!

Let our sighs break the air, and let them swell E'en unto Heaven in wailings, fashionèd From righteous love and grief unspeakable!

Mine eyes the tender dew shall ever shed Of loving tears, until the memory, Meliso, of thine exploits shall be dead.

Meliso, worthy deathless history, Worthy to enjoy on holy Heaven's throne Glory and life through all eternity.

What time I raise myself to heights unknown That I may sing his deeds as I think best, Shepherds, your sad and mournful chant intone!

With welling tears, Meliso, that ne'er rest, As best I can, thy friendship I reward, With pious prayers, and holy incense blest.

Thy death, alas! our happiness hath marred, And hath to mourning changed our past delight, Unto a tender grief that presseth hard.

Those fair and blissful days when all was bright, When the world revelled in thy presence sweet, Have been transformed to cold and wretched night.

Oh Death, that with thy violence so fleet Didst such a life to lowly earth restore,— What man will not thy diligence defeat?

Since thou, oh Death, didst deal that blow with power, Which brought to earth our stay 'midst fortune's stress, Ne'er is the meadow clad with grass or flower.

Ever this woe remembering, I repress My bliss, if any bliss my feeling knows, Myself I harrow with new bitterness.

When is lost bliss recovered? Do not woes, E'en though we seek them not, ever assail? When amidst mortal strife find we repose?

When in the mortal fray did life prevail? And when was Time, that swiftly flies away, By harness stout withstood, or coat of mail?

Our life is but a dream, an idle play, A vain enchantment that doth disappear, What time it seemed the firmest in its day.

A day that darkeneth in mid career, And on its track close follows gloomy night, Veiled in shadows born of chilly fear.

But thou, renownèd shepherd, in a bright And happy hour didst from this raging sea Pass to the wondrous regions of delight.

After that thou hadst heard and judged the plea Of the great shepherd of the Spanish plain In the Venetian[117] sheepfold righteously.

And after thou hadst bravely borne the pain, E'en the untimely stroke of Fortune fell, Which made Italia sad, and even Spain.

After thou hadst withdrawn so long to dwell, With the nine maidens on Parnassus' crest, In solitude and calm unspeakable;

Despite the clang of weapons from the East And Gallic rage, thy lofty spirit lay Tranquil, naught moved it from its peaceful rest.

'Twas then Heaven willed, upon a mournful day, That the cold hand of wrathful death should come, And with thy life our bliss should snatch away.

Thy bliss was better, thou didst seek thy home, But we were left to bitterness untold, Unending and eternal was our doom.

The sacred maiden choir we did behold Of those that dwell upon Parnassus' height Rending in agony their locks of gold.

The blind boy's mighty rival by thy plight Was moved to tears; then to the world below He showed himself a niggard of his light.

Amidst the clash of arms, the fiery glow, By reason of the wily Greek's deceit, The Teucrians sad felt not so great a woe, As those who wept, as those who did repeat Meliso's name, the shepherds, in the hour When of his death the tidings did them greet.

Their brows with fragrant varied flowers no more Did they adorn, with mellow voice no song Sang they of love as in the days of yore. Around their brows the mournful cypress clung, And in sad oft-repeated bitter moan They chanted lays of grief with sorrowing tongue.

Wherefore, since we to-day once more have shown That we are mindful of our cruel wound, Shepherds, your sad and mournful chant intone! The bitter plight that fills with grief profound Our souls, is such that adamant will be The breast wherein no place for tears is found.

Let countless tongues the soul of constancy Extol in song, the loyal breast he showed, Undaunted ever in adversity. Against the cruel disdain that ever glowed Within the wrathful breast of Phyllis sweet, Firm as a rock against the sea, he stood.

The verses he hath sung let all repeat, Let them, as tokens of his genius rare, In the world's memory find eternal seat.

Let Fame, that spreadeth tidings everywhere, Through lands that differ far from ours, his name With rapid steps and busy pinions bear.

From his most chaste and love-enraptured flame Let the most wanton breast example take, And that which fire less perfect doth inflame.

Blessèd art thou, though fortune did forsake Thee countless times, for thou dost joyous live, No shadow now doth thy contentment break.

This mortal lowliness that thou didst leave Behind, more full of changes than the moon, Little doth weary thee, doth little grieve.

Humility thou changedst for the boon Of loftiness, evil for good, and death For life—thy fears and hopes were surely one.

He who lives well, though he in semblance hath Fallen, doth soar to Heaven on lofty wing, As thou, Meliso, by the flowery path. There, there, from throats immortal issuing, The voice resounds, that glory doth recite, Glory repeateth, glory sweet doth sing. There the serene fair countenance and bright We see, and in the sight thereof behold Glory's supreme perfection with delight. My feeble voice to praise thee waxeth bold, Yet, e'en as my desire doth greater grow, In check my fear, Meliso, doth it hold. For that which I, with mind uplifted, now View of that hallowed mind of thine, and see Exalted far above all human show, Hath made my mind a coward utterly; I may but press my lips together, may But raise my brows in wondering ecstasy.

When thou dost go, thou fillest with dismay All who their pleasure in thy presence sought; Evil draws nigh, for thou dost go away.

In days gone by the rustic shepherds taught Themselves thy wisdom, in that self-same hour They gained new understanding, wiser thought. But, ah! there came the inevitable hour, When thou departedst, and we did remain, With hearts dead, and with minds bereft of power. We celebrate this memory of pain, We who our love for thee in life have shown, E'en as in death we mourn thee once again. So to the sound of your confusèd moan, New breath the while receiving ceaselessly, Shepherds, your sad and mournful chant intone! Even as is the bitter agony, So be the welling tears, so be the sighs, Wherewith the wind is swollen that hastens by. Little I ask, little the boon I prize, But ye must feel all that my tongue to you Can now unfold with feeble, stammering cries. But Phoebus now departs, and robs of hue The earth that doth her sable mantle don. So till the longed-for dawn shall come anew, Shepherds, no more your mournful chant intone!

CALLIOPE'S SONG. To the sweet sound of my harmonious lyre, Shepherds, I pray you lend attentive ear, The hallowed breath of the Castalian choir Breathing therein and in my voice ye'll hear: Lo! it will make you wonder and admire With souls enraptured and with happy fear, What time I do recount to you on earth The geniuses that Heaven claims for their worth. It is my purpose but of those to sing Of whose life Fate hath not yet cut the thread, Of those who rightly merit ye should bring Their ashes to this place when they are dead, Where, despite busy Time on hasty wing, Through this praiseworthy duty renderèd By you, for countless years may live their fame, Their radiant work, and their renownèd name. And he who doth with righteous title merit Of high renown to win a noble store, Is DON ALONSO;[118] he 'tis doth inherit From holy Phoebus heavenly wisdom's flower, In whom shineth with lofty glow the spirit Of warlike Mars, and his unrivalled power, LEIVA his surname in whose glorious sound Italy, Spain herself, hath lustre found. Arauco's wars and Spanish worth hath sung Another who the name ALONSO hath. Far hath he wandered all the realms among Where Glaucus dwells, and felt his furious wrath; His voice was not untuned, nor was his tongue, For full of strange and wondrous grace were both, Wherefore ERCILLA[119] doth deserve to gain Memorial everlasting in this plain. Of JUAN DE SILVA[120] I to you declare That he deserves all glory and all praise, Not only for that Phoebus holds him dear, But for the worth that is in him always; Thereto his works a testimony clear Will be, wherein his intellect doth blaze With brightness which illumineth the eyes Of fools, dazzling at times the keen and wise. Be the rich number of my list increased By him to whom Heaven doth such favour show That by the breath of Phoebus is his breast Sustained, and by Mars' valour here below; Thou matchest Homer, if thou purposest To write, thy pen unto such heights doth go, DIEGO OSORIO,[121] that to all mankind Truly is known thy loftiness of mind. By all the ways whereby much-speaking fame A cavalier illustrious can praise, By these it doth his glorious worth proclaim, His deeds the while setting his name ablaze; His lively wit, his virtue doth inflame More than one tongue from height to height to raise FRANCISCO DE MENDOZA'S[122] high career, Nor doth the flight of time bring them to fear. Happy DON DIEGO, DE SARMIENTO[123] bright, CARVAJAL famous, nursling of our choir, Of Hippocrene the radiance and delight, Youthful in years, old in poetic fire; Thy name will go from age to age, despite The waters of oblivion, rising higher, Made famous by thy works, from grace to grace, From tongue to tongue, and from race unto race. Now chief of all I would to you display Ripeness of intellect in tender years, Gallantry, skill that no man can gainsay, A bearing courteous, worth that knows no fears; One that in Tuscan, as in Spanish, may His talent show, as he who did rehearse The tale of Este's line and did enthral, And he is DON GUTIERRE CARVAJAL.[124] LUIS DE VARGAS,[125] thou in whom I see A genius ripe in thy few tender days, Strive thou to win the prize of victory, The guerdon of my sisters and their praise; So near are thou thereto, that thou to me Seemest triumphant, for in countless ways Virtuous and wise, thou strivest that thy fame May brightly shine with clear and living flame. Honour doth Tagus' beauteous bank receive From countless heavenly spirits dwelling there, Who make this present age wherein we live, Than that of Greeks and Romans happier; Concerning them this message do I give That they are worthy of sepulture here, And proof thereof their works have to us given, Which point us out the way that leads to Heaven. Two famous doctors first themselves present, In Phoebus' sciences of foremost name, The twain in age alone are different, In character and wit they are the same; All near and far they fill with wonderment, They win amongst their fellows so much fame By their exalted wisdom and profound That soon they needs must all the world astound. The name that cometh first into my song, Of the twain whom I now to praise make bold, Is CAMPUZANO,[126] great the great among, Whom as a second Phoebus ye can hold; His lofty wit, his more than human tongue, Doth a new universe to us unfold Of Indies and of glories better far, As better than gold is wisdom's guiding star. Doctor SUÁREZ is the next I sing, And SOSA[127] is the name he adds thereto— He who with skilful tongue doth everything That free from blemish is and best, pursue; Whoso should quench within the wondrous spring His thirst, as he did, will not need to view With eye of envy learnèd Homer's praise, Nor his who sang to us of Troy ablaze. Of Doctor BAZA,[128] if of him I might Say what I feel, I without doubt maintain, That I would fill all present with delight; His learning, virtue, and his charm are plain First have I been to raise him to the height Where now he stands, and I am she who fain Would make his name eternal whilst the Lord Of Delos shall his radiant light afford. If fame should bring the tidings to your ear Of the strange works a famous mind displays, Conceptions lofty, well-ordered, and clear, Learning that would the listener amaze; Things that the thought checketh in mid career, And tongue cannot express, but straightway stays— Whene'er ye are in trouble and in doubt 'Tis the Licentiate DAZA[129] leads you out. Master GARAI'S[130] melodious works incite Me to extol him more than all beside; Thou, fame, excelling time of hasty flight, His celebration deem a work of praise; Fame, thou wilt find the fame he gives more bright Than is thine own in spreading far and wide His praise, for thou must, speaking of his fame, From many-tongued to truthful change thy name. That intellect, which, leaving far behind Man's greatest, doth to the divine aspire, Which in Castilian doth no pleasure find— The heroic verse of Rome doth him inspire; New Homer in Mantuan new combined Is Master CÓRDOVA.[131] Worthy his lyre Of praise in happy Spain, in every land, Where shines the sun, where ocean laves the strand. Doctor FRANCISCO DÍAZ,[132] I can well Assure my shepherds here concerning thee, That with glad heart and joy unspeakable They can thy praises sing unceasingly; And if I do not on thy praises dwell— The highest is thy due, and worthily— 'Tis that our time is short, nor do I know How I can e'er repay thee what I owe. LUJÁN,[133] who with thy toga merited Dost thine own Spain and foreign lands delight. Who with thy sweet and well-known muse dost spread Thy fame abroad to Heaven's loftiest height, Life shall I give thee after thou art dead, And I shall cause, in swift and rapid flight, The fame of thine unequalled mind to roll And spread from ours unto the opposing pole. His lofty mind doth a Licentiate show, And worth,—'tis a beloved friend of yours— I mean JUAN DE VERGARA,[134] whom ye know, An honour to this happy land of ours; By a clear open pathway he doth go, 'Tis I that guide aright his steps and powers. Unto his height to rise is my reward, His mind and virtue joy to me afford. That my bold song may praise and glory gain, Another shall I name to you, from whom My song to-day shall greater force attain And to the height of my desire shall come; And this it is that maketh me refrain From more than naming him and finding room To sing how lofty genius hath been sung By DON ALONSO DE MORALES'[135] tongue. Over the rugged steep unto the fane Where dwelleth fame, there climbs and draweth near A noble youth, who breaks with might and main Though every hindrance, though 'tis fraught with fear, And needs must come so nigh that it is plain That fame doth in prophetic song declare The laurel which it hath prepared ere now, HERNANDO MALDONADO,[136] is for thy brow. Adorned with noble laurel here ye see His learned brow, who hath such glory found In every science, every art, that he O'er all the globe is even now renowned; Oh golden age, oh happy century, With such a man as this worthily crowned! What century, what age doth with thee vie, When MARCO ANTONIO DE LA VEGA[137]'s nigh? A DIEGO is the next I call to mind, Who hath in truth MENDOZA[138] for his name, Worthy that history should her maker find In him alone, and soar as soars his fame; His learning and his virtue, which, enshrined In every heart, the whole world doth acclaim, Absent and present both alike astound, Whether in near or distant nations found. High Phoebus an acquaintance doth possess— Acquaintance say I? Nay, a trusty friend, In whom alone he findeth happiness, A treasurer of knowledge without end; 'Tis he who of set purpose doth repress Himself, so that his all he may not spend, DIEGO DURÁN,[139] in whom we ever find, And shall find, wisdom, worth, and force of mind. But who is he who sings his agonies With voice resounding, and with matchless taste? Phoebus, and sage Arion, Orpheus wise, Find ever their abode within his breast; E'en from the realms where first the dawn doth rise, Unto the distant regions of the west. Is he renowned and loved right loyally, For, LÓPEZ MALDONADO,[140] thou art he. Who could the praises, shepherds mine, recite Of him ye love, a shepherd crowned by fame, Brightest of all the shepherds that are bright, Who is to all known by FILIDA'S name? The skill, the learning and the choice delight, The rare intelligence, the heart aflame, Of LUIS DE MONTALVO[141] aye assure Glory and honour whilst the heavens endure. His temples now let holy Ebro bind With ivy evergreen and olive white, And with acanthus golden, may he find In joyous song his fame forever bright: The fruitful Nile hath his renown resigned, For Ebro's ancient worth to such a height PEDRO DE LIÑÁN'S[142] subtle pen doth lift, Sum of the bliss which is Apollo's gift. I think upon the lofty soul and rare By DON ALONSO DE VALDÉS[143] possessed, And am spurred on to sing and to declare That he excels the rarest and the best; This hath he shown already, and more clear By the elegance and grace wherewith his breast He doth reveal, with bitter pangs distraught, Praising the ill that cruel Love hath wrought. Before an intellect in wonder bow, Wherein all that the wish can ask is found. An intellect, that though it liveth now On earth, is with the pomp of Heaven crowned; All that I see and hear and read and know Of PEDRO DE PADILLA[144] the renowned, Whether he treat of peace or war's alarm, Brings fresh delight and wonder by its charm. GASPAR ALFONSO,[145] thou who wingst thy flight Unto the immortal realms, so orderest That I can scarce thy praises all recite, If I must praise thee as thou meritest; The pleasing, fruitful plants that on the height Of our renowned Parnassus find their nest, All offer wealthy laurels for a crown To circle and adorn thy brows alone. Of CRISTOVAL DE MESA[146] I can say That to your vale he will an honour be; While he is living, nay, when life away Hath fled, still ye can praise him fittingly; His lofty weighty style can win to-day Renown and honour, and the melody Of his heroic verse, though silent fame Remain, and I remember not his name. DON PEDRO DE RIBERA[147] doth, ye know, Wealth to your banks, and beauty, shepherds, bring, Wherefore give him the honour that ye owe, For I will be the first his praise to sing: His virtue, his sweet muse doth clearly show A noble subject, where, on noisy wing, Fame, hundred thousand fames, their powers might spend And strive his praises only to extend. Thou, who didst bring the treasure manifold Of verse in a new form the shores unto Of the fair fruitful stream, whose bed of gold Maketh it famous wheresoe'er it flow, Thy glorious fame I promise to uphold With the applause and reverence that we owe To thee, CALDERA,[148] and thy peerless mind; With laurel, ivy, I thy brows shall bind. Let fame, and let the memory I possess, For ever famous make the memory Of him who hath transformed to loveliness The glory of our Christian poesy; The knowledge and the charm let all confess, From the dayspring to where the day doth die, Of great FRANCISCO DE GUZMÁN,[149] whose are The arts of Phoebus as the arts of war. Of the Captain SALCEDO[150] 'tis quite clear That his celestial genius doth attain Unto the point most lofty, keen and rare, That can be fancied by the thought of man; If I compare him, him I do compare Unto himself—Comparisons, 'tis plain, Are useless, and to measure worth so true, All measures must be faulty, or askew. By reason of the wit and curious grace Of TOMÁS DE GRACIÁN,[151] I pray, permit That I should choose within this vale a place Which shall his virtue, knowledge, worth, befit; And if it run with his deserts apace, 'Twill be so lofty and so exquisite That few, methinks, may hope with him to vie, His genius and his virtues soar so high. Fain would BAPTISTA DE VIVAR[152] you praise, Sisters, with unpremeditated lyre; Such grace, discretion, prudence, he displays, That, muses though ye be, ye can admire; He will not hymn Narcissus in his lays Nor the disdains that lonely Echo tire, But he will sing his cares which had their birth 'Twixt sad forgetfulness and hope of mirth. Now terror new, now new alarm and fear Cometh upon me and o'erpowereth me, Only because I would, yet cannot bear Unto the loftiest heights of dignity Grave BALTASAR, who doth as surname wear TOLEDO,[153] though my fancy whispereth me That of his learned quill the lofty flight Must bear him soon to the empyrean height. There is a mind wherein experience shows That knowledge findeth fitting dwelling-place, Not only in ripe age amidst the snows, But in green years, in early youthful days; With no man shall I argue, or oppose A truth so plain, the more because my praise, If it perchance unto his ears be brought, Thine honour hath, LOPE DE VEGA,[154] sought. Now holy Betis to my fancy's eye Presents himself with peaceful olive crowned, Making his plaint that I have passed him by,— His angry words now in my ears resound— He asks that in this narrative, where I Speak of rare intellects, place should be found For those that dwell upon his banks, and so With voice sonorous I his will shall do. But what am I to do? For when I seek To start, a thousand wonders I divine. Many a Pindus' or Parnassus' peak, And choirs of lovelier sisters than the nine, Whereat my lofty spirits faint and weak Become, and more when by some strange design I hear a sound repeated as in echo, Whene'er the name is namèd of PACHECO.[155] PACHECO 'tis whom Phoebus calls his friend, On whom he and my sisters so discreet Did from his feeble tender years attend With new affection and new converse sweet; I too his genius and his writings send By strange paths never trod by mortal feet, And ever have sent, till they rise on high Unto the loftiest place of dignity. Unto this pass I come, that, though I sing With all my powers divine HERRERA'S[156] praise, My wearied toil but little fruit will bring, Although to the fifth sphere my words him raise; But, should friendship's suspicions to me cling, Upon his works and his true glory gaze, HERNANDO doth by learning all enthral From Ganges unto Nile, from pole to pole. FERNANDO would I name to you again DE CANGAS[157] surnamed, whom the world admires. Through whom the learning lives and doth sustain Itself that to the hallowed bays aspires; If there be any intellect that fain Would lift its gaze to the celestial fires, Let it but gaze on him, and it will find The loftiest and the most ingenious mind. Concerning CRISTÓVAL, who hath the name Of DE VILLAROEL,[158] ye must believe That he full well deserveth that his name Ne'er should oblivion's gloomy waters cleave; His wit let all admire, his worth acclaim With awe, his wit and worth let all receive As the most exquisite we can discover, Where'er the sun doth shine, or earth doth cover. The streams of eloquence which did of old Flow from the breast of stately Cicero, Which, gladdening the Athenian people bold, Did honour on Demosthenes bestow, The minds o'er whom Time hath already rolled— Who bore themselves so proudly long ago— Master FRANCISCO DE MEDINA,[159] now Let them before thy lofty learning bow. Rightly thou canst, renownèd Betis, now With Mincio, Arno, and with Tiber vie, Uplift in happiness thy hallowed brow, And spread thee in new bosoms spaciously: Since Heaven wished, that doth thy bliss allow, Such fame to give thee, honour, dignity, As he doth bring unto thy banks so fair, BALTASAR DEL ALCÁZAR,[160] who dwells there. Another ye will see, summed up in whom Apollo's rarest learning will ye see, Which doth the semblance of itself assume, When spread through countless others it may be; In him 'tis greater, in him it doth come To such a height of excellence that he, The Licentiate MOSQUERA[161] well can claim To rival e'en Apollo's self in fame. Behold! yon prudent man who doth adorn And deck with sciences his limpid breast, Shrinks not from gazing on the fountain born In wisdom's waters from our mountain's crest; In the clear peerless stream he doth not scorn To quench his thirst, and thus thou flourishest, DOMINGO DE BECERRA,[162] here on earth, For all recount the mighty doctor's worth. Words I might speak of famous ESPINEL[163] That pass beyond the wit of human kind, Concerning all the sciences that dwell, Nurtured by Phoebus' breath, within his mind; But since my tongue the least part cannot tell Of the great things that in my soul I find, I say no more save that he doth aspire To Heaven, whether he take his pen or lyre. If ruddy Phoebus ye would fain espy With blood-red Mars in equal balance weighed, On great CARRANZA[164] seek to cast an eye, In whom each hath his constant dwelling made; With such discretion, art, dexterity, Hath he his power o'er pen and lance displayed That the dexterity once cleft apart He hath brought back to science and to art. Of LÁZARO LUIS IRANZO,[165] lyre Than mine must needs be tuned with better art, To sing the good that Heaven doth inspire, The worth that Heaven fosters in his heart: By Mars' and Phoebus' path he doth inspire To climb unto the lofty heights apart Where human thought scarce reacheth, yet, despite Fortune and fate, he will reach them aright. BALTASAR DE ESCOBAR,[166] who doth adorn The famèd shores of Tiber's stream to-day, Whom the broad banks of hallowed Betis mourn, Their beauty lost when he is far away, A fertile wit, if he perchance return To his beloved native land, I pay Unto his youthful and his honoured brow The laurel and the honour that I owe. JUAN SANZ, called DE ZUMETA,[167] with what power, What honour, palm, or laurel shall be crowned, If from the Indian to the ruddy Moor No muse as his so perfect can be found? Here I anew his fame to him restore By telling you, my shepherds, how profound Will be Apollo's joy at any praise Which ye may bring to swell ZUMETA'S praise. Unto JUAN DE LAS CUEVAS[168] fitting place Give, shepherds, whensoever in this spot He shall present himself. His muse's grace And his rare wit this prize for him have wrought; His works I know, though Time may flee apace, In Time's despite, shall never be forgot, From dread oblivion they shall free his name, Which shall abide with bright and lofty fame. If him ye ever see, with honour greet The famous man, of whom I now shall tell, And celebrate his praise in verses sweet, As one who doth therein so much excel; BIBALDO he—to make my tale complete, ADAM BIBALDO[169]—who doth gild and swell The glory of this happy age of ours With the choice bloom of intellectual powers. E'en as is wont to be with varied flowers Adorned and wealthy made the flowery May, With many varied sciences and powers DON JUAN AGUAYO'S[170] intellect is gay; Though I in praising him might pass the hours, I say but this, that I now but essay, And at another time I shall unfold Things that your hearts with wonderment will hold. DON JUAN GUTIÉRREZ RUFO'S[171] famous name I wish in deathless memory to live, That wise and foolish may alike acclaim In wonderment his noble narrative; Let hallowed Betis give to him the fame His style doth merit, let them glory give To him, who know, may Heaven with renown Equal unto his towering flight him crown. In DON LUIS DE GÓNGORA[172] I show A rare and lively wit that hath no peer, His works delight me, their wealth I bestow Not on myself alone, but everywhere; And if I merit aught, because ye know My love for you, see that your praises bear To endless life his lofty love profound Despite the flight of time and death's cruel wound. Let the green laurel, let the ivy green, Nay, let the sturdy holm-oak crown the brow Of GONZALO CERVANTES,[173] for I ween Worthy of being crowned therewith art thou; More than Apollo's learning in thee seen, In thee doth Mars the burning ardour show Of his mad rage, yet with so just a measure That through thee he inspireth dread and pleasure. Thou, who with thy sweet plectrum didst extol Celidon's name and glory everywhere, Whose wondrous and well-polished verses call Thee unto laurels and to triumphs fair. GONZALO GRACIÁN,[174] take the coronal, Sceptre and throne from her who holds thee dear. In token that the bard of Celidon Deserveth to be Lord of Helicon. Thou, Darro, far renownèd stream of gold, How well thou canst thyself exalt on high, And with new current and new strength, behold, Thou canst e'en with remote Hydaspes vie! MATEO DE BERRÍO[175] maketh bold To honour thee with every faculty So that through him e'en now the voice of fame Doth spread abroad through all the world thy name. Of laurel green a coronal entwine, That ye therewith the worthy brows may crown Of SOTO BARAHONA,[176] shepherds mine, A man of wisdom, eloquence, renown; Although the holy flood, the fount divine Of Helicon, should BARAHONA drown, Mysterious chance! he yet would come to sight As if he were upon Parnassus' height. Within the realms antarctic I might say That sovereign minds eternal fame attain, For if these realms abound in wealth to-day, Minds more than human also they contain; In many now I can this truth display, But I can give you plenteous store in twain, One from New Spain, he an Apollo new, The other, a sun unrivalled from Peru. FRANCISCO DE TERRAZAS[177] is the name Of one, renowned in Spain and in the West, New Hippocrene his noble heart aflame Hath given to his happy native nest; Unto the other cometh equal fame, Since by his heavenly genius he hath blest Far Arequipa with eternal spring— DIEGO MARTÍNEZ DE RIBERA[178] I sing. Beneath a happy star a radiance bright Here did flash forth, so rich in signal worth That his renown its tiniest spark of light From East to West hath spread o'er all the earth; And when this light was born, all valorous might Was born therewith, PICADO[179] had his birth, Even my brother, Pallas' brother too, Whose living semblance we in him did view. If I must give the glory due to thee, Great ALONSO DE ESTRADA,[180] thou to-day Deservest that I should not hurriedly Thy wisdom and thy wondrous mind display; Thou dost enrich the land that ceaselessly To Betis doth a bounteous tribute pay, Unequal the exchange, for no reward Can payment for so fair a debt afford. DON JUAN, Heaven gave thee as the rare delight Of this fair country with no grudging hand, ÁVALOS' glory, and RIBERA'S[181] light, Honour of Spain, of every foreign land, Blest Spain, wherein with many a radiance bright Thy works shall teach the world to understand All that Nature can give us, rich and free, Of genius bright and rare nobility. He who is happy in his native land, In Limar's limpid waters revelling, The cooling winds and the renownèd strand With his divinest verses gladdening,— Let him come, straightway ye will understand From his spirit and discretion why I sing, For SANCHO DE RIBERA[182] everywhere Is Phoebus' self and Mars without a peer. A Homer new this vale of high renown Did once upon a time from Betis wrest, On whom of wit and gallantry the crown We can bestow—his greatness is confessed; The Graces moulded him to be their own, Heaven sendeth him in every grace the best, Your Tagus' banks already know his fame, PEDRO DE MONTESDOCA[183] is his name. Wonder the illustrious DIEGO DE AGUILAR[184] In everything the wish can ask inspires, A royal eagle he, who flieth far Unto a height whereto no man aspires; His pen 'mongst thousands wins the spoil of war, For before it the loftiest retires, Guanuco will his style, his valour tell Of such renown; Guanuco knows it well. A GONZALO FERNÁNDEZ[185] draweth near, A mighty captain in Apollo's host. In whose heroic name that hath no peer, SOTOMAYOR to-day doth make his boast; His verse is wondrous and his wisdom clear Where'er he is beheld from coast to coast, And if his pen doth so much joy afford, He is no less renownèd by his sword. HENRIQUE GARCÉS[186] the Peruvian land Enricheth. There with sweet melodious rhyme, With cunning, skilful, and with ready hand, In him the hardest task did highest climb; New speech, new praise he to the Tuscan grand Hath given in the sweet Spanish of our time; Who shall the greatest praises from him take, E'en though Petrarch himself again awake? FERNÁNDEZ DE PINEDA'S[187] talent rare And excellent, and his immortal vein Make him to be in no small part the heir Of Hippocrene's waters without stain; Since whatsoe'er he would therefrom, is ne'er Denied him, since such glory he doth gain In the far West, let him here claim the part He now deserveth for his mind and art. And thou that hast thy native Betis made, With envy filled, to murmur righteously, That thy sweet tuneful song hath been displayed Unto another earth, another sky, Noble JUAN DE MESTANZA,[188] undismayed Rejoice, for whilst the fourth Heaven shall supply Its light, thy name, resplendent in its worth, Shall be without a peer o'er all the earth. All that can e'er in a sweet vein be found Of charm, ye will in one man only find, Who bridleth to his muse's gladsome sound The ocean's madness and the hurrying wind; For BALTASAR DE ORENA[189] is renowned, From pole to pole his fame, swift as the wind, Doth run, and from the East unto the West, True honour he of our Parnassus' crest. A fruitful and a precious plant I know That hath been to the highest mountain found In Thessaly transplanted thence, and, lo! A plant ere this with happy fruitage crowned; Shall I be still nor tell what fame doth show Of PEDRO DE ALVARADO[190] the renowned? Renowned, yet no less brightly doth he shine, For rare on earth is such a mind divine. Thou, who with thy new muse of wondrous grace Art of the moods of love, CAIRASCO,[191] singing, And of that common varying fickleness, Where cowards 'gainst the brave themselves are flinging; If from the Grand Canary to this place Thou art thy quick and noble ardour bringing, A thousand laurels, for thou hast deserved, My shepherds offer, praises well-deserved. What man, time-honoured Tormes, would deny That thou canst e'en the Nile itself excel, If VEGA in thy praises can outvie E'en Tityrus who did of Mincio tell? DAMIÁN,[192] I know thy genius riseth high To where this honour doth thine honours swell, For my experience of many years Thy knowledge and thy virtue choice declares. Although thy genius and thy winning grace, FRANCISCO SÁNCHEZ,[193] were to give me leave, If I dared form the wish to hymn thy praise, Censure should I for lack of skill receive; None but a master-tongue, whose dwelling place Is in the heavens, can be the tongue to achieve The lengthy course and of thy praises speak, For human tongue is for this task too weak. The things that an exalted spirit show, The things that are so rare, so new in style, Which fame, esteem, and knowledge bring to view By hundred thousand proofs of wit and toil, Cause me to give the praises that are due To DON FRANCISCO DE LAS CUEVAS,[194] while Fame that proclaims the tidings everywhere, Seeks not to linger in her swift career. At such a time as this I would have crowned My sweet song gladly, shepherds, with the praise Of one whose genius doth the world astound, And could your senses ravish and amaze; In him the union and the sum is found Of all I have praised and have yet to praise; FRAY LUIS DE LEÓN[195] it is I sing, Whom I love and adore, to whom I cling. What means, what ways of praise shall I achieve, What pathways that yon great MATÍAS' name May in the world for countless ages live, Who hath ZUÑIGA[196] for his other name? Unto him all my praises let me give, Though he is man and I immortal am, Because his genius truly is divine, Worthily praise and honour in him shine. Turn ye the thought that passeth speedily Unto Pisuerga's lovely banks divine, Ye will see how the lofty minds whereby They are adorned, enrich this tale of mine; And not the banks alone, but e'en the sky, Wherein the stars resplendent ever shine, Itself assuredly can honour claim, When it receives the men whom now I name. Thou, DAMASIO DE FRÍAS,[197] canst alone Thy praises utter, for, although our chief, Even Apollo's self should praise thee, none But could be in thy praises all too brief; Thou art the pole-star that hath ever shone Certain and sure, that sendeth sweet relief From storm, and favouring gales, and safe to shore Brings him who saileth wisdom's ocean o'er. ANDRÉS SANZ DEL PORTILLO,[198] send to me That breath, I pray, whereby Phoebus doth move Thy learned pen, and lofty fantasy, That I may praise thee as it doth behove; For my rough tongue will never able be, Whate'er the ways it here may try and prove, To find a way of praising as I would All that I feel and see in thee of good. Happiest of minds, thou towerest in thy flight Above Apollo's highest, with thy ray So bright, thou givest to our darkness light, Thou guidest us, however far we stray; And though thou dost now blind me with thy light And hast my mind o'erwhelmèd with dismay, Glory beyond the rest I give to thee, For, SORIA,[199] glory thou hast given to me. If, famous CANTORAL,[200] so rich a meed Of praise thy works achieve in every part, Thou of my praises wilt have little need, Unless I praise thee with new mode and art; With words significant of noble deed, With all the skill that Heaven doth impart, I marvel, praise in silence, thus I reach A height I cannot hope to gain by speech. If I to sing thy praise have long delayed, Thou, VACA Y DE QUIÑONES,[201] mayst forgive The past forgetfulness I have displayed And the repentance I now show receive, For with loud cries and proclamation made O'er the broad world this task I shall achieve In open and in secret, that thy fame Shall spread abroad, and brightly gleam thy name. Thy rich and verdant strand no juniper Enricheth, nor sad cypress; but a crown Of laurels and of myrtles it doth wear, Bright Ebro, rich in waters and renown, As best I can, I now thy praise declare, Praising that bliss which Heaven hath sent down Unto thy banks, for geniuses more bright Dwell on thy banks e'en than the stars of night. Two brothers witnesses will be thereto, Two daysprings they, twin suns of poesy, On whom all that it could of art bestow And genius, Heaven lavished bounteously; Thoughts of wise age, though still in youthful glow, Converse mature, and lovely fantasy, Fashion a worthy, deathless aureola For LUPERCIO LEONARDO DE ARGENSOLA.[202] With envy blest, in holy rivalry Methinks the younger brother doth aspire To match the elder, since he riseth high To where no human eye e'er riseth higher; Wherefore he writes and sings melodiously Histories countless with so sweet a lyre That young BARTOLOMÉ[203] hath well deserved Whatever for LUPERCIO is reserved. If good beginning and a sequence fair Inspire the hope of an illustrious close In everything, my mind may now declare That thus thou shalt exalt o'er all its foes, COSME PARIENTE.[204] Thus thou canst with rare Confidence to thy wise and noble brows Promise the crown that rightly hath been gained By thy bright intellect and life unstained. MURILLO,[205] thou dost dwell in solitude, Heaven thy companion, and dost there display That other muses, cleverer and more good, Ne'er leave thy Christian side and go away; Thou from my sisters didst receive thy food, And now thou dost, this kindness to repay, Guide us and teach us heavenly things to sing, Pleasing to Heaven, and this world profiting. Turia, who loudly didst of old proclaim The excellence of the children born to thee, If thou shouldst hearken to the words I frame, Moved by no envy, by no rivalry. Thou wilt hear how by those whom I shall name, Thy fame is bettered; their presence with thee, Their valour, virtue, genius, are thy dower, And make thee o'er Indus and Ganges tower. DON JUAN COLOMA,[206] thou within whose breast Hath been enclosed so much of Heaven's grace, Who hast with bridle stern envy repressed, And given to fame a thousand tongues to blaze, From Tagus to the kingdom fruitfulest, Abroad thy name and worth in words of praise, COUNT DE ELDA, blest in all, thou dost bestow On Turia greater fame than that of Po. He in whose breast a spring that is divine Through him, doth ever copiously abound, To whom his choir of flashing lights incline, And rightly—they their Lord in him have found— Who should by all, from Ethiop 'neath the Line To Eskimo, with name unique be crowned, DON LUIS GARCERÁN[207] is peerless, bright, Grand Master of Montesa, world's delight. Within this famous vale he should receive A place illustrious, an abode renowned, He to whom fame the name would gladly give Wherewith his intellect is fitly crowned; Be it the care of Heaven to achieve His praise—from Heaven comes his worth profound— And laud what is beyond my faculties In DON ALONSO REBOLLEDO[208] wise. DOCTOR FALCÓN,[209] so lofty is thy flight That thou beyond the lordly eagle high Dost rise; thy genius unto Heaven's height Ascends, leaving this vale of misery; Wherefore I fear, wherefore I dread aright That, though I praise thee, thou wilt yet espy Cause of complaint in that for nights and days My voice and tongue I use not in thy praise. If e'en as fortune doth, sweet poesy Had but an ever-changing wheel possessed, Swifter in speed than Dian through the sky, Which was not, is not, ne'er shall be at rest, Thereon let MICER ARTIEDA[210] lie— The wheel unchanged the while amid the test— And he would ever keep the topmost place For knowledge, intellect, and virtue's grace. The goodly shower of praises thou didst pour Upon the rarest intellects and best. Alone thou meritest and dost secure, Alone thou dost secure and meritest; GIL POLO,[211] let thy hopes be firm and sure, That in this vale thy ashes will find rest In a new tomb by these my shepherds reared, Wherein they will be guarded and revered. CRISÓOBAL DE VIRUES,[212] since thou dost vaunt A knowledge and a worth like to thy years, Thyself the genius and the virtue chant Wherewith thou fleest the world's beguiling fears; A fruitful land and a well-nurtured plant— In Spain and foreign lands I shall rehearse And for the fruit of thy exalted mind Win fame and honour and affection kind. If like unto the mind he doth display SILVESTRE DE ESPINOSA'S[213] praise must be, A voice more skilled were needed and more gay A longer time and greater faculty; But since my voice he guideth on the way, This guerdon true shall I bestow, that he May have the blessing Delos' god doth bring To the choice flood of Hippocrene's spring. The world adorning as he comes in view Amongst them an Apollo I behold, GARCIA ROMERO,[214] discreet, gallant too, Worthiest of being in this list enrolled; If dark Peneus' child, whose story true Hath been in Ovid's chronicles retold, Had found him in the plains of Thessaly, Not laurel, but ROMERO[215] would she be. It breaks the silence and the hallowed bound, Pierces the air, and riseth to the sky, The heavenly, hallowed, and heroic sound That speaks in FRAY PEDRO DE HUETE'S[216] cry; Of his exalted intellect profound Fame sang, sings and shall sing unceasingly, Taking his works as witness of her song To spread amazement all the world among. Needs must I now to the last end draw near, And of the greatest deed I e'er designed Make a beginning now, which shall, I fear, Move unto bitter wrath Apollo kind; Since, although style be wanting, I prepare To praise with rustic and untutored mind Two suns that Spain, the country of their birth, Illumine, and moreover all the earth. Apollo's hallowed, honourable lore, Discretion of a courtier mature, And years well-spent, experience, which a store Of countless prudent counsels doth assure, Acuteness of intellect, a ready power To mark and to resolve whate'er obscure Difficulty and doubt before them comes,— Each of these in these twin suns only blooms. Now, shepherds, I in these two poets find An epilogue to this my lengthy lay; Though I for them the praises have designed Which ye have heard, I do not them repay; For unto them is debtor every mind, From them I win contentment every day, Contentment from them winneth all the earth E'en wonder, for 'tis Heaven gives them birth. In them I wish to end my melody, Yet I begin an admiration new, And if ye think I go too far, when I Say who they are, behold, I vanquish you; By them I am exalted to the sky, And without them shame ever is my due; 'Tis LÁINEZ,[217] FIGUEROA[218] 'tis I name Worthy eternal and unceasing fame.

For the impossible I fight, And, should I wish to retreat, Step nor pathway is in sight, For, till victory or defeat, Desire draweth me with might; Though I know that I must die, Ere the victory I achieve, When I most in peril lie, Then it is that I receive More faith in adversity. Never may I hope to gain Fortune; this is Heaven's decree. Heaven the works of hope hath ta'en And doth lavish aye on me Countless certainties of pain; But my breast of constancy, Which amidst Love's living flame Glows and melteth ceaselessly, In exchange this boon doth claim: More faith in adversity. Certain doubt and fickleness Traitorous faith and surest fear, Love's unbridled wilfulness, Trouble ne'er the loving care Which is crowned with steadfastness, Time on hasty wing may fly, Absence come, or disdain cold, Evil grow, tranquillity Fail, yet I as bliss will hold More faith in adversity. Certain folly is it not, And a madness sure and great, That I set my heart on what Fortune doth deny, and Fate, Nor is promised by my lot? Dread of everything have I, There is naught can give me pleasure, Yet amidst such agony Love bestows its chiefest treasure: More faith in adversity. Victory o'er my grief I gain, Which to such a pass is brought That it doth Love's height attain, And I find that from this thought Comes some solace to my pain; Although poor and lowly I, Yet relief so rich in woe To the fancy I apply, That the heart may ever know More faith in adversity. All the more that every ill Comes with every ill to-day, And that they my life may fill With more pain, though deadly they, They do keep me living still; But our life in dignity With a noble end is crowned, And in mine my fame shall lie, For in life, in death I found More faith in adversity.

Ah! 'tis easy for the wind All the hopes to bear away That could ever be designed And could their foundations lay On vain fancies of the mind; For all hopes of loving gain, All the ways Time doth uncover, Wholly are destroyed and slain; But the while in the true lover Faith, faith only, doth remain. It achieves such potency That, despite disdain which never Offereth security, Bliss it promiseth me ever, Bliss that keeps the hope in me; And, though Love doth quickly wane In the angry breast and white That increaseth so my pain, Yet in mine, in its despite, Faith, faith only, doth remain. Love, 'tis true thou dost receive Tribute for my loyalty, And so much dost thou achieve That my faith did never die, It doth with my works revive; My content—'tis to thee plain— And my glory all decays, As thy fury grows amain; In my soul as dwelling-place Faith, faith only, doth remain. But if it be truth declared And beyond all doubt have passed, That to faith glory is barred, I, who shall to faith hold fast, What hope I for my reward? Sense doth vanish with the pain That is pictured, all the bliss Flies and is not seen again, And amidst such miseries Faith, faith only, doth remain.

In my woe and suffering 'Midst the pleasures of my care, My faith is so choice a thing, That it flieth not from fear Neither unto hope doth cling; 'Tis not moved to agony, In its task of climbing high, To behold that joy hath fled, Nor to see that life is sped Where faith lives and hope is dead. This is wondrous 'midst my woe, Yet 'tis so that thus my bliss, If it comes, may come to show That amidst a thousand 'tis That to which the palm should go; Let not fame this truth deny But unto the nations cry With loud tongue that Love doth rest Firm and loyal in my breast Where faith lives and hope is dead. Ah! thy rigorous disdain And my merit, poor and low, So affright me that 'tis plain, Though I love thee, this I know, Yet I dare not tell my pain; Ever open I espy The gate to my agony, And that life doth slow depart, For thou heedest not the heart Where faith lives and hope is dead. Never doth my fancy frame Such a frenzied, foolish, thought As to think that I could claim Any bliss that I have sought By my faith and heart aflame; Thou canst know with certainty My surrendered soul doth try, Shepherdess, to love thee true, For 'tis there that thou wilt view Where faith lives and hope is dead.

If the loyal heart despair Of achieving happiness, Whoso faints in the career Of the loving passion's stress, What shall he as guerdon bear? I know not that any may Win delight and pleasure gay In the sudden rush of Love, If the greatest joys but prove 'Tis no faith that doth not stay. This undoubted truth we know That in battle and in love He that proud and bold is, though Conqueror he at first may prove, Sinks at last beneath the blow; And the wise man knows to-day That the victory ever lay 'Midst the strife in constancy, And he knows, whate'er it be 'Tis no faith that doth not stay. Whoso seeks in love to gain Nothing save his happiness, In his fickle thought and vain, Faith that shall withstand all stress Cannot for one hour remain; I myself these words would say, If my faith should not display Constancy amidst the storm Of ill, as when hope is warm: 'Tis no faith that doth not stay. Madness of a lover new, His impetuous hastening, Sighs and sadness, these, 'tis true, Are but fleeting clouds of spring, In a moment lost to view: 'Tis not love he doth display, Greed and folly lead astray, For he loves, yet loveth not, No man loves who dieth not, 'Tis no faith that doth not stay.

Thankless Amaryllis fair, Who shall make thee tender prove, If the faith of my true love And the anguish of my care Do thee but to hardness move? Maiden, 'tis to thee well known That the love which is in me Leads to this extremity: Save my faith in God alone Naught is faith but faith in thee. But although I go so high In love for a mortal thing, Such bliss to my woe doth cling That the soul I raise thereby To the land whence it doth spring; Thus this truth I know full well That my love remains in me In life, in death, ceaselessly, And, if faith in love doth dwell, Naught is faith but faith in thee. All the years that I have passed In my services of love, My soul's sacrifices prove All the cares that hold me fast And the faith that doth me move; Wherefore for the ill I bear I will ask no remedy, Should I ask it willingly, 'Tis because, my lady fair, Naught is faith but faith in thee. In my soul's tempestuous ocean Peace and calm I ne'er have found, And my faith is never crowned With that hope and glad emotion Whereon faith itself doth ground; Love and fortune I deplore Yet revenge is not for me, For they bring felicity In that, though I hope no more, Naught is faith but faith in thee.

Fickle Love, disdain thy chains Broke, and to my memory Hath restored the liberty Born from absence of thy pains; Let him, whoso would, accuse My faith as capricious, weak, And as best he thinketh, seek To convert me to his views. I my love did soon forsake, He may say, my faith was hung By a hair so finely strung That it e'en a breath could break; All the plaints Love did provoke, All my sighs, did feignèd prove, Nay the very shafts of Love Did not pierce beneath my cloke. For no torture 'tis for me To be callèd fickle, vain, If I may behold again My neck from the mad yoke free; Who Silena is, I know, And how strange her mood hath been, How her peaceful face serene Promise and deceit doth show. To her wondrous dignity, To her fair and downcast eyes, 'Tis not much to yield the prize Of the will, whose'er it be, For at first sight we adore; Now we know her, fain would we Life and more, if more could be, Give to see her nevermore. Ofttimes to her have I given Heaven's Silena and my dear For her name—she was so fair That she seemed the child of Heaven; Better now her name shall be— Now that I need fear no more— Not Silena, Heaven's flower, But false Siren of the sea. Earnest words, frivolities, Gazing eyes and ardent pen Of the lover, blind and vain,— Take a countless sum of these, And the last is ever first; Whoso hath in love surpassed, As the first loved, e'en at last Is by her disdain accursed. How much fairer would we deem Our Silena's beauteous grace, If her wisdom and her ways Did her fairness but beseem! She discretion hath at will, But a halter 'tis to slay The presumption of her way, For she useth it so ill. I speak not with shameless tongue, For it were but passion wild, But I speak as one beguiled, Who hath suffered grievous wrong; Passion doth no more me blind, Nor desire that she should wrong Suffer, for always my tongue Was in reason's bonds confined. Her caprices manifold, And her moods that ever change, From her every hour estrange Those who were her friends of old; Since Silena foes hath made In the many ways we see, Wholly good she cannot be, Or they must be wholly bad.

E'en as Love ever seeks the soul to entame, Tempting it by the semblance of delight, E'en so she from Love's deadly pangs in flight Turneth, who knows its name bestowed by fame. The breast that doth oppose his amorous flame, The breast with honourable resistance armed, By Love's unkindness is but little harmed, Little his fire and rigour doth inflame. Secure is she who never was beloved, Nor could love, from that tongue which in dispraise Of her honour, with subtle glow doth gleam. But if to love and not to love have proved Fruitful in harm, how shall she spend her days Who honour dearer e'en than life doth deem?

Bravely I took my courage as defence In the dread conflict and onslaught of Love, My boldness bravely raised to Heaven above Against the rigour of the clear offence. But yet so overwhelming and intense The battery, and withal so weak my power That, though Love seized me not, in one short hour Love brought me to confess his power immense. O'er worth, o'er honour, o'er a mind discreet, Shy modesty, a bosom of disdain, Love doth with ease achieve the victory; Wherefore, in order to escape defeat, Strength from no words of wisdom can we gain, Unto this truth an eye-witness am I.