Il pastor fido The faithfull shepherd : a pastorall / written in Italian by Baptista Guarini, a Knight of Italie ; and now newly translated out of the originall.

Scena sexta.

TIRENIO, MONTANO, CARINO.

Tir.

MAke haste my Son; yet tread secure, that I May without stumbling trace thee through this wry And craggy way, with my old feet and blind. Thou art their eyes, as I am to thy mind. And when thou comest where the Priest is, there Arrest thy pace.

Mont.

Hah! whom do I see here? Is't not our Reverend Tirenio? hee Whose eyes are seel'd up earthward, but heav'n see? Some great thing draws him from his sacred Cell, Whence to behold him is a miracle.

Car.

May the good Gods pleas'd in their bounty be To make his coming prosperous to thee.

Mont.

Father Tirenio, what miracle Is this? What mak'st thou from thy holy Cell? Whom dost thou seek? what news?

Tir.

I come to speak With thee: and news I bring, and news I seek.

Mont.

But why comes not the holy Order back With the purg'd offering, and what doth lack Besides to th' interrupted Sacrifice?

Tir.

" O how much often doth the want of eyes " Adde to the inward sight! for then the soul " ••••••••-gadding forth, but recollected whole

" Into it self, is wont to recompence " With the mind's eyes the blindnes of the sense! " It is not good to passe so slightly over " Some great events unlookt for which discover " In humane businesses an hand Divine, " Which through a cloud of seeming chance doth shine. " For Heav'n with Earth will not familiar be, " Nor face to face talk with Mortality. " But those great wondrous things which us amaze, " And on blind chance the more blind vulgar layes, " Are but Heav'ns voice: the deathlesse Gods affect " To speak to mortals in that Dialect. " It is their language; mute unto our ears, " But loud to him whose understanding hears. (A thousand times most happy is that wight That hath an understanding pitcht so right). The good Nicandro (as thou gav'st command) Was ready now to bring the sacred Band, Whom I withheld by reason of a change That fell out in the Temple. Which so strange Event, comparing with what happen'd here At the same time to thee, 'twixt hope and fear I know not how, strook and amaz'd I stand: Whereof by how much lesse I understand The cause, so much the more I hope and fear Some happinesse, or some great danger neer.

Mon.

That which thou understandest not, I do Too well, and to my sorrow feel it too.

But is there ought in hidden Fate can shun Thy all divining Spirit?

Tir.

O my Son! " If the Divine use of prophetick light " Were arbitrary, it would then be hight " The gift of Nature, not of Heav'n. I find (Tis true) within my undigested mind That there is something hidden in the deep Bosome of Fate, which she from me doth keep, And this hath mov'd me to come now to thee To be inform'd more cleerly who is he That's found to be the Father of the youth To dye now; if Nicandro told us truth.

Mon.

Thou knowst him but too well, Tirenio: How wilt thou wish anon that thou didst know Or love him lesse?

Tir.

" I praise thee O my Son, " For taking pity and compassion " On the afflicted: 'tis humanity. How-ere let me speak with him.

Mon.

Now I see Heav'n hath suspended in thee all that skill In Prophecie, which it was wont t' instill. That Father whom thou seek'st to speak withall, Am I.

Tir.

Art thou his Father, that should fall To Dian now an Immolation?

Mon.

The wretched Father of that wretched Son.

Tir.

Of that same Faithfull Shepherd, who to give Life to another, would himself not live?

Mon.

Of him who dies his Murthresse life to save, And Murthers me, who unto him life gave.

Tir.

But is this true?

Mo.

Behold the witnesse.

Car.

That Which he hath told thee is most true.

Tir.

And what Art thou that speak'st?

Car.

Carino, thought to be Till now the young mans Father.

Tir.

Was that he The Flood took from thee long agoe?

Mon.

Yes, yes, Tirenio.

Tir.

And dost thou stile for this Thy self a wretched Father? " O how blind " Is an unhallow'd and terrestriall mind! " In what thick mists of errour, how profound " A night of Ignorance are our souls drown'd, " Till thou enlighten them, from whom the Sun " Receives his lustre, as from him the Moon! Vain men, how can you boast of knowledge so? " That part of us by which we see and know, " Is not our vertue, but deriv'd from Heav'n, " That gives it, and can take what it hath giv'n. O in thy mind, Montano, blinder far, Then I am in mine eyes! What Juggler, What dazeling Divell will not let thee see That if this noble youth was born of thee, Thou art the happiest Father and most deer To the immortall Deities, that e're Begot Son in the world? Behold the deep Secret, which Fate did from my knowledge keep▪ Behold the happy day, with such a flood Expected of our tears, and of our blood! Behold the bessed end of all our pain! Where art thou man? come to thy self again.

How is it that thou onely dost forget That famous happy Oracle that's writ In all Arcadian hearts? How can it be That with thy deer son's lightning upon thee This day, thy sense is not prepar'd and cleer The thunder of that heav'nly voice to hear; Your Woe shall end when two of Race Divine Love shall Combine: — (Tears of delight in such abundance flow Out of my heart, I cannot speak.) Your Woe — Your Woe shall end when two of Race Divine Love shall Combine: And for a faithlesse Nymph's apostate state A Faithfull Shepherd supererogate. Now tell me thou: This Shepherd here of whom We speak, and that should dye, is he not come Of Divine Race (Montano) if hee's thine? And Amarillis too of Race Divine? Then who I pray but Love hath them combin'd? Silvio by parents and by force was joyn'd To Amarillis, and is yet as far From loving her, as Love and Hatred are. Then scan the rest, and 't will be evident, The fatall voice none but Mirtillo meant. For who indeed, since slain Aminta, hath Express'd such Love as he? such constant Faith? Who but Mirtillo for his Mistresse wou'd Since true Aminta, spend his deerest bloud?

This is that work of Supererogation: This is that faithfull Shepherds expiation For the Apostate false Lucrina's fact. By this admir'd and most stupendious Act More then with humane blood the wrath of heav'n Is pacifi'ed, and satisfaction giv'n Unto eternall Justice for th' offence Committed 'gainst it by a woman. Hence It was, that he no sooner came to pay Devotions in the Temple, but streightway All monstrous omens ceas'd; No longer stood Th' eternall Image in a sweat of blood, The earth no longer shook, the holy Cave No longer stank, and shrikes no longer gave; But such sweet harmony and redolence As Heav'n affords (if Heav'n affect the sense). O Providence eternall! O ye Powers That look upon us from yon azure Towers! If all my words were souls, and every soule Were sacrific'd upon your Altars whole, It were too poor a Hecatombe to pay So great a blessing with: but as I may (Behold!) I tender thanks, and with my knee Touching the earth in all humilitie Look up on you that sit in thron'd in heav'n. How much am I your debtor, that have giv'n Me leave to live till now! I have run o're Of my life's race a hundred yeers and more,

Yet never liv'd till now, could never deem My life worth keeping till this instant time. Now I begin my life, am born to day. But why in words do I consume away That time that should be spent in works? Help Son To lift me up: Thou art the motion Of my decayed limbs.

Mon.

Tirenio, I have a lightnesse in my bosom so Lock't in, and petrifi'd with wonder, that I find I'm glad, yet scarcely know at what. My greedy soule unto her self alone Keeps all her joy, and lets my sense have none. O miracle of Heav'n! farre, farre beyond All we have seen, or e're did understand! O unexampled Bounty! O the great Great mercy of the Gods! O fortunate Arcadia! O earth, of all that e're The Sun beheld or warm'd, most blest, most deer To Heav'n! Thy weal's so deer to me, mine own I cannot feel, nor think upon my Son (Twice lost and found) nor of my self buoy'd up Out of the depth of sorrow, to the top Of blisse, when I consider thee: but all My private joy, set by the generall, Is like a little drop in a great stream Shuffled and lost. O happy dream! (no dream, But a Celestiall vision.) Now agin Shall my Arcadia (as thou said'st) be in

A flourishing Estate: But why dost thou Stay here, Montano? Heav'n expects not now More humane Sacrifice from us. No more Th' are times of wrath and vengeance (as before) But times of grace and love; glad nuptiall bands, Not horrid Sacrifices at our hands Our Goddesse now requires.

Tir.

How long to night?

Mon.

An hour, or little more.

Tir.

We burn day-light: Back to the holy Temple let us go; There let the daughter of old Titiro And thy Son interchange their Marriage vow To become Man and Wife, of Lovers now. Then let him bring her to his Father's straight, Where 'tis Heav'ns pleasure, that these fortunate Descendents of two Gods, should henceforth run United in one stream.— Lead me back, Son: And thou Montano, follow me.

Mon.

But stay: That faith which formerly she gave away To Silvio, she cannot now withdraw And give Mirtillo, without breach of Law.

Car,

'Tis Silvio still, Mirtillo was call'd so At first (thy man told me) and Silvio By mee chang'd to Mirtillo, to which hee Consented.

Mon.

True: (now I remember me) And the same name I gave unto the other, To keep alive the memory of's Brother.

Tir.

'Twas an important doubt. Follow me now.

Mon.

Carino, to the temple too come thou.

Henceforth Mirtillo shall two Fathers own: Thou hast a Brother found, and I a Son.

Car.

To thee a Brother in his love, a Father To him, a Servant (in respect) to either Carino will be alwayes: And since I Find thee to me so full of courtesie, I will the boldnesse take to recommend Unto thy love my second self, my friend.

Mon.

Share me between you.

Car.

O eternall Gods, " Between our pray'rs slow-winding paths, what odds " There is (by which we climb to Heav'n) and those " Directer lines by which to us Heav'n bowes!