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V. Si de mi baja lira :: If the sound of my simple
Ode ad ﬂorem Gnidi
If the sound of my simple
lyre had such power that in one moment
it could calm the anger
of the violent wind and
the fury of the sea, the sea’s turbulence,
and if in the wilderness
with sweet singing I could melt the savage hearts
of the ﬁercest animals,
and so move the trees that
they approach, stirred and bewildered by the sound,
do not suppose, beautiful
lily of Knidos, that I would sing of
the deeds of angry Mars,
dedicated to death,
his countenance stained with powder, blood and sweat,
nor of the captains would I
sing, who ride in state, seated in high chariots,
by whom the German princes,
their proud necks tied to the yoke,
and French ones too, are tamed and put on show.
No, for I would sing of
nothing but the power of your beauty,
though occasionally too
I might put on record
the cold-heartedness which is your dread weapon,
y cómo por ti sola,
y por tu gran valor y hermosura,
convertida en viola,
llora su desventura
el miserable amante en su ﬁgura.
Hablo de aquel cativo,
de quien tener se debe más cuidado,
que está muriendo vivo,
al remo condenado,
en la concha de Venus amarrado.
Por ti, como solía,
del áspero caballo no corrige
la furia y gallardía,
ni con freno le rige,
ni con vivas espuelas ya le aﬂige.
Por ti, con diestra mano
no revuelve la espada presurosa,
y en el dudoso llano
huye la polvorosa
palestra como sierpe ponzosa.
Por ti, su blanda musa,
en lugar de la cítara sonante,
tristes querellas usa,
que con llanto abundante
hacen bañar el rostro del amante.
Por ti, el mayor amigo
le es importuno, grave y enojoso;
yo puedo ser testigo,
que ya del peligroso
naufragio fuí su puerto y su reposo.
and tell how only through you,
for the sake of your quality, your beauty,
the wretched lover is turned
into a pale violet
your namesake, and weeps for his ill fortune.
It is of that captive
I speak who deserves more consideration,
for his is a living death,
sentenced and chained to the oar,
a slave caught and bound to the shell of Venus;
because of you, no longer
does he correct the ﬁerce rebellion
of the restless stallion
or control him with the rein
or harry him with sharply pricking spurs;
because of you, he does not
brandish with expert skill the hasty sword,
and on the training ground
he ﬂees the dusty lists
as if anxious to avoid a poisonous snake;
because of you, his gentle
muse abandons her sonorous lyre
for melancholy complaints,
which cause the lover’s face
to be inundated with copious tears;
because of you, he ﬁnds
his best friend importunate, a bore, a burden;
as I can testify, who
once was in time of peril
and shipwreck his refuge and safe haven,
Y agora en tal manera
vence el dolor a la razón perdida,
que ponzoñosa ﬁera
nunca fué aborrecida
tanto como yo dél, ni tan temida.
No fuiste tú engendrada
ni producida de la dura tierra;
no debe ser notada
que ingratamente yerra
quien todo el otro error de sí destierra.
el caso de Anajerete, y cobarde,
que de ser desdosa
se arrepintió muy tarde;
y así, su alma con su mármol arde.
del mal ajeno el pecho empedernido,
cuando abajo mirando,
el cuerpo muerto vido
del miserable amante, allí tendido.
Y al cuello el lazo atado,
con que desenlazó de la cadena
el corazón cuitado,
que con su breve pena
compró la eterna punición ajena.
Sintió allí convertirse
en piedad amorosa el aspereza.
¡Oh tarde arrepentirse!
¡Oh última terneza!
¿Cómo te sucedió mayor dureza?
and now to such degree
is his lost reason overcome by grief
that no poisonous beast
was ever so much hated
as I by him, nor ever so much shunned.
You were not engendered from,
nor fashioned out of the hard earth; it is not
right that one should be known for
the sin of ingratitude,
who has banished from herself all other faults.
It were better you should fear
Anaxarete’s outcome and avoid it,
who of her disdainfulness
too late repented and whose
soul therefore is burning with her marble ﬂesh.
Her ﬂinty heart exulted,
taking its pleasure in another’s pain,
till chancing to turn her eyes
downward she saw the corpse
of the wretched lover stretched upon the ground,
and tied about his neck
the noose, by means of which he had released
the pained heart from its chains
and with this brief suﬀering
purchased another’s lasting punishment.
Right there she felt her harshness
converted into tender loving pity.
O repentance come too late!
O tenderness at the last!
What then of the greater hardness soon to come?
Los ojos se enclavaron
en el tendido cuerpo que allí vieron,
los huesos se tornaron
más duros y crecieron,
y en sí toda la carne convirtieron;
las entras heladas
tornaron poco a poco en piedra dura;
por las venas cuitadas
la sangre su ﬁgura
iba desconociendo y su natura;
hasta que, ﬁnalmente,
en duro mármol vuelta y trasformada,
hizo de sí la gente
no tan maravillada
cuanto de aquella ingratitud vengada.
No quieras tú, señora,
de Némesis airada las saetas
probar, por Dios, agora;
baste que tus perfetas
obras y hermosura a los poetas
den inmortal materia,
sin que también en verso lamentable
celebren la miseria
de algún caso notable
que por ti pase triste y miserable.
Her eyes became ﬁxed
on the lifeless body that they saw; then
her bones still further hardened
and grew, until they engrossed
all the ﬂesh, taking it into themselves,
her frozen organs little
by little converted into solid stone;
in the anguished veins the blood
was beginning to forget
its proper form and function, its true nature;
until at the end she was
nothing but hard marble, metamorphosed,
and to the people less
a wonder to behold
than welcome proof of ingratitude avenged.
Do not you then, my lady,
tempt the arrows of angry Nemesis!
Avoid them for God’s sake,
and let it be enough that
your perfect deeds, your beauty, should supply
the poets with immortal
inspiration, without their being obliged
in sad verses to record
some horrible disaster
laid at your door, some wretched tragedy.
The tomb of Garcilaso and his father at St. Peter the Martyr in Toledo, Spain.
Elegies and Epistle to Boscán
The two elegies, in tercetos, were written some time in 1535, after
the Tunis campaign (see Sonnet XXXIII). The Epistle to Boscán
is a little earlier, written most likely in the summer of 1534, when
Garcilaso was returning to Naples after a mission to the court in
Spain—probably to report the capture of Tunis by Barbarossa.
All three poems are formally freer than Garcilaso’s best-known
work and in some sense more personal: they oﬀer interesting
insights into his situation and state of mind.
Elegy I commemorates Don Bernaldino, the duke of Alba’s
younger brother, who died of an illness at Trapani in Sicily. It can
be a little confusing because it addresses diﬀerent people at different times. I have supplied some breaks in the layout that are
not present in the original, mainly to help identify the changes
in the person addressed. Brieﬂy, the opening addresses don Fernando, the present duke of Alba; lines 76–96 are a meditation
on war; line 101 (English 102) shows that the poet has switched
to addressing don Bernaldino, the dead brother; lines 130–80
speak of the mother and sisters, and then the river Tormes (personiﬁed) and nymphs and satyrs of the region, eventually urging
the latter to stop mourning and try to console the family; line 181
returns to don Fernando, giving him reasons why he too should
stop grieving. The end, from line 289, addresses don Bernaldino
in heaven, promising that he will not be forgotten on earth (if
heaven is kind enough to preserve the poet’s work).
It may also be worth noting that the duke was a young man,
a little younger than Garcilaso, whose older friend Boscán had
been his ayo, or “tutor,” for manners and worldly accomplishments.
It is written in terza rima, known in Spanish as tercetos encadenados, or “linked tercets.” In my translation I have only sporadically attempted to reﬂect the rhyming, which in the Spanish
gives to the form a certain tightness and unity that may seem
lacking in the subject matter.
Elegy II, which is more of an epistle than an elegy and describes
the poet’s feelings about various aspects of his situation, refers
explicitly to the period just after the North African campaign
when the emperor’s army was resting in Sicily before the return
to Naples. It is also in written in tercets, and I have made a more
sustained eﬀort to follow the rhyme scheme in my translation.
The Epistle to Boscán follows the epistles of Horace and is the
ﬁrst poem in Spanish written in endecasílabos sueltos, or “blank
verse” (though this equates it with the Latin hexameter rather
than Elizabethan blank verse).