Tasso's AMINTA (AMYNTAS): Act III, Scene 1

Review the cast of characters here.

ACT III

Scene 1

Tyrsis, Chorus

 

TYRSIS   O arrant cruelty, ungrateful heart, ungrateful woman; o three and four times most ungrateful sex! And you, Nature, negligent mistress, you would put in women's faces and forms all that is gentle, comely, and kind, yet you would forget their other parts? Perhaps the wretch has killed himself; he has not come. For three hours now, I have searched and searched again for him in the place and surroundings where I left him; but I cannot find him for his footprints. Ah, he has surely killed himself! I will ask news of him from those shepherds I see there. Friends, have you seen Amyntas, or perhaps heard news of him?

CHORUS   How distraught you seem. What is it afflicts you? Whence this sweat and anxiety? Are you ill? Tell us.

TYRSIS   I fear the worst for Amyntas. Have you seen him?

CHORUS   We have not seen him since he left with you a good while ago. Of what are you afraid?

TYRSIS   That he may have killed himself.

CHORUS   Killed himself? But why? What do you believe is the reason?

TYRSIS   Hatred and Love.

CHORUS   Two powerful enemies indeed. When put together, what can they not do? But explain further.

TYRSIS   He loved a nymph too much and was too much hated by her.

CHORUS   Come, tell all. This is a well-trod path; perhaps someone will come who has news of him. Perhaps even he himself will come.

TYRSIS   I will tell you gladly, for it is not right that such inexplicable ingratitude should stand without reproach.

I had informed Amyntas (and I was, alas, the one who apprised and led him; now I am sorry for it) that Sylvia would go with Daphne to bathe in a certain spring. So he went there, doubtful and uncertain, moved not by his heart but only by my insistent prodding; he often turned back in doubt, but I urged him forward against his will. Then the spring was near; behold, we heard a womanly wail; and almost at once, we saw Daphne beating her palms together. When she saw us, she raised her voice: "Ah, haste!" she cried, "Sylvia has been assaulted!"

Hearing this, the lovelorn Amyntas sprang forth like a leopard, and I followed. There naked as she was born, we saw the young girl tied to a tree, and her hair was the rope that bound her: her very hair was wrapped around the tree in a thousand knots, and her lovely girdle which once protected her virginal breast had assisted in accomplishing this violent act, for it bound both her hands to the hard trunk. The tree itself provided bonds against her: a twist of a pliable branch held each of her soft legs.

We saw before her a villainous satyr who had just then finished tying her. She defended herself as much as she could; but how long could she have struggled? Amyntas, an arrow in his hand, hurled himself like a lion, and I meanwhile had filled my tunic with stones. Then the satyr fled, and in doing so, gave way for Amyntas' gaze. Amyntas turned his lovesome eyes upon those graceful limbs, which seemed soft and white as lilies that tremble with dew. I saw his whole face glow; then he approached her softly and shyly and said:

"O lovely Sylvia, forgive these hands, if they dare too much in approaching your sweet limbs; but harsh necessity urges them: the necessity to loosen these knots. This is the grace that fortune grants them, be it against your will."

CHORUS   Words to soften a heart of stone. But what did she say then?

TYRSIS   She said nothing; but scornful and ashamed, she lowered her face to the ground and, twisting herself as much as she could, hid her delicate bosom. He, coming forward, began to loosen the blond tresses, saying: "Such a rough trunk was never worthy of such lovely knots. What advantage do lovers have, if they share with the trees that tie which binds them to the ones they love? Cruel tree, could you offend these fair locks, that did you such honor?" Then with his hands he loosened her own in such a way that he seemed to fear even touching them; yet at the same time, he desired them. Then he bent to untie her feet; but when Sylvia's hands were freed she said scornfully: "Shepherd, do not touch me. I belong to Diana; I know how to free my own feet."

CHORUS   Such pride resides in the nymph's heart? A gracious act so ungraciously rewarded! 

TYRSIS   He kept himself away respectfully, not even raising his eyes to look at her, denying himself his pleasure in order to save her the trouble of denying him of it. I who was hidden, and saw and heard everything, was then about to cry out, but restrained myself. Now hear something strange. After much effort, she freed herself; and as soon as she was loose, without even saying "farewell," she began to flee like a deer; yet she had no cause to fear, for she noted Amyntas' respect.

CHORUS   Then why did she flee?

TYRSIS   Sylvia wanted to attribute her escape to her own fleetness, not to Amyntas' timid love.

CHORUS   Then she is ungrateful also in this. What did the wretched boy do then? What did he say?

TYRSIS   I know not; for I, full of disgust, ran to catch her, but in vain, for I lost her. Then returning to the spring where I had left Amyntas, I did not find him, but my heart foresees something bad. I know he had been ready to die even before this occurred.

CHORUS   It is the custom and the cunning of every lover to threaten to die, but rarely do they do so.

TYRSIS   May God grant that he will not be the rare exception.

CHORUS   No, he will not be.

TYRSIS   I will go to the cave of the wise Elpinus. If Amyntas is alive, perhaps he has taken refuge there, where often the bitterest suffering is sweetened at the sound of the clear pipes which, being heard, draws the stones from the heights and makes the rivers run with pure milk, and distills honey from the hard trunk.

To be continued.



From My Big Orange Book: Sara Teasdale

I am so weak a thing, praise me for this,
That in some strange way I was strong enough
To keep my love unuttered and to stand
Altho' I longed to kneel to you that night
You looked at me with ever-calling eyes.
Was I not calm? And if you guessed my love
You thought it something delicate and free,
Soft as the sound of fir-trees in the wind,
Fleeting as phosphorescent stars in foam.
Yet in my heart there was a beating storm
Bending my thoughts before it, and I strove
To say too little lest I say too much,
And from my eyes to drive love's happy shame.
Yet when I heard your name the first far time
It seemed like other names to me, and I
Was all unconscious, as a dreaming river
That nears at last its long predestined sea;
And when you spoke to me, I did not know
That to my life's high altar came its priest.
But now I know between my God and me
You stand forever, nearer God than I,
And in your hands with faith and utter joy
I would that I could lay my woman's soul.

                                                             ~ from "From the Sea"

Tasso's AMINTA (AMYNTAS): Act II, Scene 3

For the cast of characters, click here.

ACT II

Scene 3

Amyntas, Tyrsis

 

AMYNTAS   I want to see what Tyrsis has accomplished. If he has accomplished nothing, then I would rather kill myself before that cruel girl's eyes than waste away with love. She who so enjoys my heart's wound, inflicted by her beautiful eyes, will likewise have to enjoy the wound of my breast, inflicted by my own hand.

TYRSIS     Amyntas, I have comforting news to announce: cease now this excessive lamenting.

AMYNTAS   What are you saying? What news do you bring? Life or death?

TYRSIS   I bring health and life, if you will dare to make yourself face them. But you will need to be a man, Amyntas, a daring man.

AMYNTAS   What do I need dare, and to face what?

TYRSIS   If your beloved were in the midst of a wood surrounded by the highest cliffs, which gave lodging to tigers and lions, would you go there?

AMYNTAS   I would go there more sure and bold than the merry village girl to the dance.

TYRSIS   And if she were among bandits and weapons, would you go there?

AMYNTAS   I would go there more gladly and readily than the thirsty hind to the fountain.

TYRSIS   An even greater daring is needed for this great test.

AMYNTAS   I would go into the midst of the rapid torrents when the snow melts and sends them swollen to the sea; I would go into the fires of Hell, whenever she may go there, if such a beautiful thing can be found in Hell. Come, tell me everything.

TYRSIS   Listen.

AMYNTAS   Quickly, tell me!

TYRSIS   Sylvia is waiting for you at a spring, naked and alone.

AMYNTAS   What did you say? Sylvia is waiting for me, naked and alone?

TYRSIS   Alone, save Daphne, who supports us.

AMYNTAS   She is waiting for me, naked?

TYRSIS   Yes, but ...

AMYNTAS   But what? You are silent, you are torturing me.

TYRSIS   But she does not yet know that you will be there.

AMYNTAS   Bitter conclusion, that poisons all the past sweetness! With what cunning, cruel one, do you torment me? Does it not seem to you, then, that I am not so very unhappy, and you come to increase my misery?

TYRSIS   If you do as I advise, you will be happy.

AMYNTAS   What do you advise?

TYRSIS   That you take what friendly fortune offers you.

AMYNTAS   God would not wish me to do anything which displeases her; I have never done anything that displeased her except to love her; but this was forced upon me by her beauty and was no fault of mine. I will always try as I can to please her.

TYRSIS   Then you would love her against her will, were you capable of not loving her.

AMYNTAS   Not against her will—but I would still love her.

TYRSIS   Against her wishes, then.

AMYNTAS   Certainly, yes.

TYRSIS   Though it may at first pain her, why not then dare against her wishes and take from her that which in the end would be precious and dear to her because you have taken it?

AMYNTAS   Ah, Tyrsis, Love will answer for me, for he speaks from so deep within my heart, I cannot answer for myself. You by now are too shrewd through long habit to discuss love. That which binds my heart also binds my tongue.

TYRSIS   Then we do not want to go?

AMYNTAS   I want to go, but not where you believe.

TYRSIS   Where, then?

AMYNTAS   To death, since you have not done anything else in my favor other than what you now tell me.

TYRSIS   And this seems so little to you? Then do you believe, fool, that Daphne would ever have advised you to go if she had not glimpsed, at least in part, Sylvia's heart? And though she may know her heart, perhaps she may not want others to know that she knows. If you seek Sylvia's approval, do you not know that you seek what would most displease her? Of what use, then, is this desire of yours to please her? And if she wills your happiness to be stolen or abducted, and not given through her mercy, why should the one method matter more than the other?

AMYNTAS   But who can assure me that she wills it thus?

TYRSIS   Oh, folly! You still ask for the assurance that it will displease her and it must rightly displease her, so you must not attempt. Yet who would assure you that she is as you say? And what if she were, and you did not go? The doubt and the risk are the same, yet it is better to die bravely than cowardly. You are silent; you are beaten. Now admit your loss, for your admission may bring about great victory. Let us go.

AMYNTAS   Wait.

TYRSIS   Why wait? Do you not know that time is flying?

AMYNTAS   Well, let us first think of what must be done, and how.

TYRSIS   Let us think on the way of what remains to be done; but he who thinks too much accomplishes nothing.

CHORUS   Love, in what school, from what teacher, does one learn your intricate and mysterious art? Who can teach us to express what the soul understands as it flies to the heavens on your wings? Not even the learned Athena, nor Lyceus can explain it to us; nor Phoebus on Helicon, who considers Love to be as he teaches: he speaks of it coldly and rarely; he does not have the ardent voice that would be worthy of you; he does not elevate his thoughts to the heights of your mysteries. Love, you alone are the only teacher of yourself. You teach the simplest rustics to read those wondrous things that you write with your own hand in amorous letters within the eyes of others. With eloquent words you loosen the tongues of your faithful followers, and often (oh, strange and singular eloquence of Love!) with confused and broken words, one better expresses one's heart and moves another more deeply; for one cannot accomplish this with embellished and expert phrases, and silence is always filled with words and pleas. Love, others may still read the Socratic papers, but I will learn your art from two lovely eyes. The poems from the wisest pens may be lost, but I will have my simple ones, inscribed on rough bark by a rough hand.

To be continued. 



These are a few (!) of my favorite things ...

     'Tis the season for The Sound of Music to be shown on TV, though I'm not quite sure what-all it has to do with Christmas. Perhaps because it's a "family" movie, it seems appropriate to air it during a "family" time of year.

     At any rate, 'tis also the season for making lists (and, yes, checking them twice).

     My favorite novels and films are already listed in the left sidebar. So here are more of my favorite things:

 

Non-fiction books: Practically everyone who knows me knows I love everything Helene Hanff wrote. In fact, I wrote a whole post about her and her delightfully chatty, autobiographical books. They know, too, how much I love the ever-amusing travel memoirist Emily Kimbrough, of whom I wrote in this post. Like Helene Hanff, I am a tremendous Anglophile, so I also love Beverley Nichols (a man, not a woman, in case you didn't know), especially A Thatched Roof, A Village in a Valley, and his trilogy Merry Hall/Laughter on the Stairs/Sunlight on the Lawn.

 

Food stuff: Wowee. Let's see. I could eat pasta every single day. I like it simply prepared, though if you offered me a plate of cannelloni, I wouldn't spit in your eye. Seafood is a biggie with me, especially salmon, halibut, monkfish, shrimp, scallops, and lobster. And I looooove a good steak, prime rib or rib eye, medium rare. I'd have to say my favorite overall cuisine is Italian (oh, big surprise), then French and Chinese. I only like Filipino if it's my mother's. No one else's can compare. I never go out to Filipino restaurants anymore (heck, I have a hard time even finding Filipino restaurants) because they simply don't measure up to my mom's cooking.

     My most favorite dessert in the whole world (probably) is coconut cream pie. Not coconut meringue – coconut cream. Chocolate silk pie. Chocolate mousse. Chocolate pot de crème. Cream puffs, St. Honoré, St. Tropez (just about anything with pastry cream; I just love pastry cream).

 

Music: Baroque, baroque, and baroque for relaxation and "mood." Corelli first of all, Bach, Handel, Purcell, Monteverdi, all that ilk. I prefer instrumental, however; surprisingly, I seldom listen these days to vocal or choral. Piano repertoire – Mozart, Chopin, Beethoven, Brahms, Rachmaninov, whatever. I'm not fond of Debussy, Ravel, Prokofiev. As to non-classical, I like old standards and singers such as Nat King Cole, Ella Fitzgerald, Jane Morgan, Vera Lynn, Rosemary Clooney, early Doris Day, Helen Ward, Helen Forrest, Mel Torme, Vic Damone. I never tire of the Beatles, especially early to mid-Beatles. Vintage Judy Collins, Joni Mitchell, Bob Dylan. Peter, Paul, and Mary. A special fondness for Blood, Sweat, and Tears and Crosby, Stills, and Nash. Yes, I am a child of the 60's and early 70's.

 

TV: Come on; do you even have to ask? Okay, besides Frasier: The Mary Tyler Moore Show, M*A*S*H, The Paper Chase, The Antiques Roadshow, Chopped!, Iron Chef America, House Hunters International and, of course, Dancing with the Stars. I used to love Candace Olsen's old show Divine Design, and that great travel show of the early to mid-90's, Travelers. I miss Samantha Brown's European show. She's a kook.

 

Ways to spend time: Reading, antiquing, book hunting (in antiquarian bookstores), discovering great restaurants. Movies.

     My favorite part of the day is when I'm in prayer. I dedicate the first hour and a half of the morning to God, plus an hour in the evening and a half hour before bedtime. Nothing, however, compares to sitting in silent adoration before Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament, either exposed in the monstrance or hidden in the tabernacle. If I could, I would spend hours a day doing just that.

Spiritual writers: My favorite go-to books in this area are the ones written by, mysteriously, "A Carthusian," particularly They Speak by Silences. This beautiful little volume is comprised of very short (most of them shorter than one page) meditations and instructions written by a Carthusian monk to a novice. G. K. Chesterton, C. S. Lewis, Elisabeth Leseur, Peter Kreeft, Scott Hahn, Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI (also his writings as Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger) are others I consult regularly. Among the canon of Saints: Catherine of Siena, Thérèse of Lisieux, Teresa of Avila, Francis de Sales, and Pope John Paul II are my top faves. Of course, Thomas a Kempis' great classic Imitation of Christ; and I have also begun to use the Carmelite book of meditation Divine Intimacy by Father Gabriel of Saint Mary Magdalen.

 

Scripture: I find endless strength in the Gospels of John and Luke, as well as John's first epistle and Revelation, Romans (most particularly chapter 8), Galatians, Ephesians, the epistles of Peter, most of Isaiah, much of Jeremiah, Sirach, and of course the Psalms. So much more; impossible to list here.

Tasso's AMINTA (AMYNTAS): Act II, Scene 2

For the cast of characters, click here. 

ACT TWO

Scene 2

Daphne, Tyrsis

 

DAPHNE     Tyrsis, as I have told you, I had noticed that Amyntas loves Sylvia; and God knows I have endeavored to persuade her and gladly continue to do so, just as you now add your prayers. But I would prefer rather to tame a young ox, a bear, or tiger, than to tame a simple girl, a girl as stupid as she is beautiful, who does not yet realize how arousing the weapons of her beauty are, and how sharp; but, with her laughter and her tears she is killing him, without knowing that she does so.

TYRSIS     But what girl, once out of swaddling, is so simple that she does not learn the art of looking beautiful and of pleasing, of tormenting by pleasing, and of knowing which weapon wounds, which one kills, and which one restores life?

DAPHNE     Who is the teacher of such an art?

TYRSIS     You jest and try me: it is she who teaches the birds to sing and fly, the fish to swim, the ram to butt, the bull to use his horns, and the peacock to spread the display of his eyed feathers.

DAPHNE     What is this great teacher's name?

TYRSIS     Daphne.

DAPHNE     Liar!

TYRSIS     And why not? Are you not qualified to teach a thousand girls? Although, to tell the truth, they do not need a teacher. Nature is their teacher, but their mothers and wet nurses also do their part.    
DAPHNE     For goodness' sake, you are both stupid and wicked. Now, to tell you truthfully, I am not certain if Sylvia is as simple as she seems in word and deed. Yesterday I saw something that puts me in doubt of it. I found her near the city in those vast fields where between ponds lies a little island. Just over a clear, tranquil pool she leaned as if to admire herself, and at the same time, to ask advice of the waters about how she should arrange her hair over her brow, and her veil over her hair, and over her veil the flowers that she held in her lap. From time to time she took a privet, then a rose, and put them up to her lovely white neck and to her rosy cheeks, comparing the colors; and then, as though glad of her victory, a smile burst forth which seemed to say: "I still conquer you. I do not wear you for my adornment, but only to shame you, so that they shall see how inferior you are to my beauty." But, while she adorned and admired herself, she chanced to look up and noticed that I had seen her; and she sprang to her feet in shame, letting her flowers fall. Meanwhile, I laughed at her blush and she blushed still more at my laugh. But because she had gathered a part of her hair and the rest had been left scattered loose, once or twice she consulted the spring with her eyes, and looked at herself almost furtively, as if fearing that I would see her look. She saw she was unkempt, yet she was pleased, for she also saw that she was still beautiful. I too saw, and fell silent.

TYRSIS     You tell me what I already knew. Did I not know it?
DAPHNE     Certainly you did. Yet I hear it said that at one time there were no shepherdesses or nymphs so spiteful; nor was I such in my girlhood. The world gets older, and as it does so, becomes more and more cruel.
TYRSIS     Perhaps in the past the city folk did not often frequent the woods and fields, nor did our country women habitually go into the city. Now they and their customs are mixed. But let us abandon this subject. Now, will you not someday make Sylvia happy, if only in your presence, that Amyntas thinks of her?
DAPHNE     I know not. Sylvia is unusually reluctant.
TYRSIS     And Amyntas is unusually cautious.
DAPHNE     A cautious lover is done for; advise him then to take another occupation, since he is so cautious. He who wishes to learn how to love must unlearn caution; he must dare, ask, plead, bother, and in the end, steal; and if this is not enough, he must then abduct her. Do you not know how woman is made? She flees, yet wants others to catch her; she denies, yet wants others to take what she denies; she fights, yet wants others to conquer her. You see, Tyrsis, I speak to you in confidence. Do not repeat what I tell you. And above all, do not put it into verse. You know that I would know how to deal with you in one way or another.
TYRSIS     You have no reason to believe that I would say anything that would displease you. But I pray you, Daphne, for the sweet memory of your fresh youth, help me to help poor Amyntas, who is wasting away.
DAPHNE     Oh, what kind spell has conjured up this fool to recall my youth, the past joy, and the present pain! What would you have me do?
TYRSIS     Knowledge and acuity you do not lack. You need only be ready and willing.
DAPHNE     Come then, I will tell you: Sylvia and I must go in a little while to the spring of Diana, where on the calm waters cool shade is made by that plane tree, inviting the huntresses to rest. There I am sure she will plunge her lovely bare limbs.
TYRSIS     And what of that?
DAPHNE     What of that? Spoken like a dullard! If you have any good sense, you shall need it.
TYRSIS     I do understand, but I do not know if he would be so bold.
DAPHNE     If not, then let him stay away and wait for someone to fetch him.
TYRSIS     He may require that; he is so timid.
DAPHNE     But don't we want to talk a little of you yourself? Come now, Tyrsis, do not you want to fall in love? You are still young enough. You are almost twenty-nine, but you remember when you were a youth. Do you want to live indolent and joyless? For only by loving does man know what joy is.
TYRSIS     The man who avoids love does not flee the delights of Venus, but reaps and enjoys the sweetness of love without the bitterness.
DAPHNE     Flavorless is that sweetness whose spice is not somewhat bitter; it satisfies too quickly.
TYRSIS     It is better to satisfy oneself than to be always famished during the meal and after.
DAPHNE     But he is not famished who possesses and likes the meal; and once tasted, it tempts him to taste again.
TYRSIS     But who possesses that which pleases him so that he has it always ready to satisfy his hunger?
DAPHNE     Who finds the treasure, if he does not seek it?
TYRSIS     It is folly to look for something that so amuses when found, but torments much more when not found. Thus you shall never see Tyrsis as lover, for Love on his throne will always disregard his tears and sighs. I have already wept and sighed enough. Let someone else do so.
DAPHNE     But you have not yet enjoyed enough.
TYRSIS     I do not wish to enjoy, if it costs so dear.
DAPHNE     Even if you do not wish, Love will force you.
TYRSIS     He cannot be forced who remains distant.
DAPHNE     But who remains distant from Love?
TYRSIS     He who fears him and flees.
DAPHNE     What use is it to flee Love, since he has wings?
TYRSIS     Love, when born, has short wings. But he can barely hold them up, and cannot spread them to fly.
DAPHNE     Man may not notice when Love is born, and when he does notice, Love is already grown and flies.
TYRSIS     He cannot notice if he has never before seen Love born.
DAPHNE     We shall see, Tyrsis, if you have the ability to flee and the sharp eyes you claim to have. I declare to you that when you become the sharp-eyed runner, I shall not move a step to help you; not a finger, a word, or a single eyelid.
TYRSIS     Cruel woman, you would have the heart to see me dead? If you really want me to love, then you love me: let us agree to make love!
DAPHNE     You mock me, and perhaps you do not deserve such a lover. Ah, now that smooth blushing face betrays you!
TYRSIS     I am not in jest; but you, with such declaration, do not accept my love. Yet that is how all women are. If you do not want me, I shall live without love.
DAPHNE     You will live happier than you ever were, o Tyrsis; for you live now in leisure, and in leisure Love always sprouts.

TYRSIS     Oh, Daphne, my lord made this leisure for me that I may worship him here, where the vast herds and flocks graze from one sea to the other, throughout the most fertile countries' cultivated lands, throughout the rugged peaks of the Apennines. He told me when he gathered me to his flock: "Tyrsis, one man may drive away wolves and thieves, or guard my walled pens; another may give out punishments and rewards to my ministers; and others may feed and tend the flocks; some have care of the wools and milk, and other the larders. You may sing, now you are at leisure." It is surely right, therefore, that I sing not of earthly Love's caprices, but of the forebears of my lord. I know not as I should call him Apollo or Jove, since in deeds and face he resembles both. My lord's forebears are worthier that Saturn or Uranus. My poetry is too coarse to exalt his dignity; yet, though it sound loud or raucous, he does not spurn it. I do not sing of him since I cannot worthily honor him except through silence and reverence; but may his altars never be without my flowers or without the sweet fumes of fragrant incense. And this simple, devoted faith will be torn from my heart only when deer feed on air, and when the Persian has drunk the Saone and the Gallican has drunk the Tigris, changing their beds and courses.

DAPHNE     Oh, you are going too high: come back down a little to our subject.
TYRSIS     The point is this: that you, in going to the spring with her, will try to soften her; and I, meanwhile, will make sure that Amyntas comes. My task will perhaps be more difficult than yours. Now go.
DAPHNE     I go, but someone else has heard our plan
TYRSIS     If I discern the face well from afar, it is Amyntas who emerges there. Yes, it is he.

END SCENE

To be continued. 



1 Thessalonians 5:17

"Pray unceasingly."

I wake and kneel I kneel to pray
My prayer be raised this rise of day

When day is risen rain or sun
This day be prayer thy work be done

When day is set this work is done
So may I rest come rest of sun

I raise my prayer at set of day
To wake come rise of sun to pray


© Leticia Austria 2013
First published in Time of Singing

Tasso's AMINTA (AMYNTAS): Act II, Scene 1

SATYR (alone)

Small is the bee, yet he makes with his small bite wounds truly deep and harmful. But what is smaller than Love, that invades and hides in every small space? Now beneath the shadow of the eyelids, now among the small waves of a blond crown, now in the dimples which a sweet smile makes in a fair cheek; yet it makes wounds so large, so mortal, and so unbearable.

Ah, me, my heart is all wounded and bloodied, and Sylvia's eyes hold a thousand of harsh Love's darts! Cruel is Love, but Sylvia is more cruel and pitiless than these woods! Oh, how your name suits you, and how perceptive was he who gave it you!

Serpents, lions, and bears hide within the green of the woods, and you hide hatred, disdain, and callousness in your comely breast, beasts worse than serpents, lions, and bears, and which cannot be tamed by supplication or gift. When I bring you fresh flowers, you refuse them, contrary girl: perhaps because you have more beautiful flowers in your lovely face. when I bring you pretty apples, you refuse them disdainfully: perhaps because you have prettier apples upon your breast. When I offer you sweet honey, you spurn it spitefully: perhaps because you have sweeter honey on your lips.

But if my poverty cannot give you anything more beautiful and sweet than that which you already possess, I give you myself. Now why, unjust girl, do you scorn and abhor my gift? I am not to be spurned, for I saw myself in the waters of the sea, when day before yesterday the winds were quiet, and it lay calm. This ruddy face, these broad shoulders, this hairy chest, these furry thighs, are signs of virility and health; and if you do not believe this, try them. What would you do with these swains whose soft, downy cheeks have just flowered and who artfully arrange their hair in perfect order? They are feminine in appearance and strength. Yet now you say that they may follow you through the woods and mountains, and fight against the bears and wild boars for you. I am not ugly, no; nor do you spurn me because of how I am made, but only because I am poor. Ah, the villages follow the example of the great cities, and truly this is the golden century, since gold alone conquers and rules.

Whoever you were, the first who learned to sell love, may your buried ashes and cold bones be damned, and may there be no shepherd or nymph who will say in passing: "Have peace." May the rain soak them and the winds stir them, and the crowd tread and wander over them with dirty feet. You made the nobility of love the object of buying and selling; you embittered that sweet happiness. Mercenary love, servant of gold, is the greatest monster, the most abominable and foul, that the earth or the waves in the sea produces.

But why do I complain in vain? Each creature uses those weapons which Nature has given him for his well-being; the hind uses his speed, the lion his claws, the slobbering boar his tusks; and beauty and grace are woman's weapons. As for me, why do I not use violence for my well-being, since Nature has made me fit to do violence and to steal? I will try: I will steal that which she denies me, ungrateful one, as reward for my love. For, as a goatherd told me a little while ago, who has observed her habits, she often goes to refresh herself in a spring, and he showed me the spot. There I plan to submerge myself among the shrubs and bushes, and wait till she comes; and when I see my chance, I will run up behind her.

How could a young girl run away from me, so fleet and powerful? She may weep and wail, use every effort to ask pity, use her beauty; but, if I can entangle my hand in her tresses, she cannot therefore flee: not before I stain my weapon with her blood in revenge.

To be continued.