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From my beloved Permessus I come to you,
illustrious heroes, noble scions of kings,
whose glorious deeds fame relates,
though falling short of the truth
since the target is too high.
I am Music,
who in sweet accents can calm each troubled heart,
and now with noble anger, now with love,
can kindle the most frigid minds.
Singing to a golden lyre I am wont
sometimes to charm mortal ears;
and in this way inspire souls with a longing
for the sonorous harmony of heaven's lyre.
Hence desire spurs me to tell you of Orpheus,
Orpheus who drew wild beasts to him by his singing
and who subjugated Hades by his entreaties,
the immortal glory of Pindus and Helicon.
Now while I alternate my songs,
now happy, now sad,
let no small bird stir among these trees,
no noisy wave be heard on these river banks,
and let each little breeze halt in its course.
On this happy and auspicious day,
which has put an end to the amorous torments of our demigod,
let us sing, shepherds, in such sweet accents
that our strains shall be worthy of Orpheus.
Today fair Eurydice's heart, formerly so disdainful,
has been touched with compassion.
Today Orpheus has been made happy in the *** of her
for whom he once sighed and wept so much amongst these woods.
Therefore, on so happy and auspicious a day,
which has put an end to the amorous torments of our demigod,
let us sing, shepherds, in such sweet accents
that our strains shall be worthy of Orpheus.
Come, ***, ah, come,
and let your fiery torch be like a rising sun
to bring these lovers peaceful days
and henceforth banish afar
the horrors and shadows of anguish and grief.
Ye Muses, the honour of Parnassus, beloved of heaven,
tender consolation to the dejected heart,
let your harmonious lyres rend the dark veil from every cloud.
And while we today, on well-tuned strings,
invoke ***'s favour upon our Orpheus
let your singing accord with our playing.
Leave the mountains, leave the fountains,
charming, happy nymphs,
and on these meads rejoice your fair feet
with your accustomed dances.
Here let the sun behold your roundelays, lovelier by far than those
which the stars in heaven dance to the moon in the darkness of night.
Leave the mountains, leave the fountains, charming, happy nymphs,
and on these meads rejoice your fair feet with your accustomed dances.
Then let these lovers' locks be honoured by you
with fair flowers,
that now they may rejoice, happy at the ending of torments,
satisfied in their desires.
But you, gentle singer, if once
you made these fields weep at your laments
why now do you not make the vales and hills
rejoice with you to the sound of your famous lyre?
Let some happy song that Love may inspire
bear witness to your heart.
Rose of heaven, light of the world,
and worthy offspring of him who holds the universe in thrall,
O sun, who dost encircle and see all
from thy celestial orbits, tell me:
hast thou ever seen a lover more joyful and fortunate than me?
Happy indeed was the day, my dearest, when first I saw you,
and happier still the hour when I sighed for you,
since you too sighed at my sighing;
happiest of all the moment when you gave me your white hand
as a pledge of pure faith.
Had I as many hearts as eternal heaven has eyes,
or these pleasant hills and verdant May have leaves,
all would be full to overflowing
with that joy which today delights me.
I will not say how great
is my joy at your rejoicing, Orpheus,
since my heart is no longer with me
but resides with you in the company of Love.
Ask of it, therefore, if you wish to know
how gladly it rejoices
and how much it loves you.
Leave the mountains, leave the fountains, charming, happy nymphs,
and on these meads rejoice your fair feet with your accustomed dances.
Here let the sun behold your roundelays, lovelier by far than those
which the stars in heaven dance to the moon in the darkness of night.
Come, ***, ah, come,
and let your fiery torch be like a rising sun
to bring these lovers peaceful days
and henceforth banish afar
the horrors and shadows of anguish and grief.
But if our joy derives from heaven,
as everything we encounter down here is from heaven,
it is surely meet that we should devoutly offer up incense and prayers.
Therefore let each turn his steps to the temple
to pray to him who holds the world in his right hand
that he may long preserve our well-being.
Let there be no one who, in despair, gives himself up as prey to grief
though at times it may powerfully
assail us and darken our lives.
After a malign cloud, its womb heavy
with a fearful storm, has affrighted the world
the sun displays more brightly his radiant beams.
And after the sharp frost of naked winter
spring decks the fields with flowers.
Here is Orpheus,
for whom but recently sighs were food
and tears drink.
Today he is so happy
that he has nothing more to long for.
See now, I return to you, dear woods and beloved hills,
made blessed by that sun through whom alone my darkness is lightened.
Look, Orpheus, how the shade of those beech trees invites us
now that Phoebus darts burning rays from heaven.
On these grassy banks let us rest and let each in his own way
let loose his voice to the murmur of the waters.
In this flowery meadow every sylvan deity
is often wont to linger for his pleasure.
Here Pan, the shepherds' god, has sometimes been heard lamenting,
sweetly recalling his unrequited loves.
Here the charming dryads, a company always decked with flowers,
have been seen gathering roses with white fingers.
Therefore, Orpheus, make worthy of the sound of your lyre
these fields, where there blows a breeze with the perfumes of Araby.
Do you recall, O shady woods,
my long, bitter torments
when the rocks, their hearts softened, replied to my laments?
Say, did I not then seem to you
more wretched than any other?
Now Fortune has changed her tune
and turned my woes into rejoicing.
Once I lived in sadness and sorrow:
now I rejoice, and those anxieties that I have suffered for so many years
make my present happy state more dear.
Through you alone, lovely Eurydice,
I bless my torments;
after sorrow, one is all the more content,
after woe, one is all the happier.
See, oh, see, Orpheus,
how all around
the woods and the meadow smile.
Then continue, with your golden plectrum,
to sweeten the air on so blessed a day.
Ah, bitter blow!
Ah, wicked, cruel fate!
Ah, baleful stars!
Ah, avaricious heaven!
What mournful sound disturbs this happy day?
Alas! Must I then,
while Orpheus delights heaven with his music,
pierce his heart with my words?
This is the gentle Sylvia,
fair Eurydice's sweetest companion.
Oh, what sadness is in her face!
What has happened now?
Ah, ye gods above, do not avert your kindly gaze from us!
Shepherd, cease your singing
for all our gaiety has turned to pain.
Whence do you come? Whither do you go? Nymph, what news do you bring?
I come to you, Orpheus, as an ill-fated bearer
of tidings still more ill-fated and more tragic.
Your lovely Eurydice...
Alas, what do I hear?
Your beloved bride...
is dead.
Woe is me!
In a flowery meadow, with her other companions,
she was wandering, gathering flowers to make of them a garland for her tresses
when a treacherous snake that was lurking in the grass
bit her in the foot with its venomous fangs.
And lo, immediately her fair face lost its colour
and in her eyes that lustre grew dim
with which she put the sun to shame.
Then we all, horrified and dismayed, were around her,
seeking to revive her ebbing spirits with cold water
and powerful spells.
But, alas, all was in vain
for opening her drooping eyes a little
and calling for you, Orpheus,
after a deep sigh
she expired in my arms;
and I was left
with my heart full of pity and fear.
Ah, bitter blow!
Ah, wicked, cruel fate!
Ah, baleful stars!
Ah, avaricious heaven!
At the bitter news the unhappy man seems dumb as a stone
for through excess of grief he cannot grieve.
Ah, he who did not feel pity for your adversity,
wretched lover, bereft of all your happiness,
would surely have the heart of a tiger or bear.
You are dead,
you are dead, my life,
and I still breathe?
You have gone from me,
you have gone from me, never more to return,
and I remain?
No, no,
for if my songs have any power at all
I will surely descend to the deepest abyss
and, having softened the heart of the King of Shadows,
will bring you back with me to see the stars again.
Or, if malign destiny denies me this,
I will remain with you in the company of death.
Farewell, earth,
farewell, sky,
and sun, farewell!
Ah, bitter blow!
Ah, wicked, cruel fate!
Ah, baleful stars!
Ah, avaricious heaven!
Let not mortal man trust in fleeting and frail happiness
for soon it flies away
and often the precipice is close to the highest summit.
But I, who in my tongue have borne the knife
that has slain Orpheus's loving heart,
abhorrent to the shepherds and the nymphs,
abhorrent to myself,
where shall I hide?
An ill-omened creature of the night, I will for ever shun the sun
and in a lonely cavern lead a life
in keeping with my sorrow.
Alas, who can console us?
Or rather, who will grant us a living fountain in our eyes
that we may weep as we should
on this mournful day
now all the sadder for having been more joyful?
Today a cruel blast
has extinguished the two brightest lights of our woods,
Eurydice and Orpheus,
one stung by a serpent,
the other, alas,
pierced by grief.
Ah, bitter blow!
Ah, wicked, cruel fate!
Ah, baleful stars!
Ah, avaricious heaven!
But where, ah, where now are
the lovely, cold limbs of the luckless nymph
in which that sweet soul chose her worthy dwelling,
that today has departed in the flower of her youth?
Let us go, shepherds,
let us reverently go to find them, and with bitter tears
let us pay due tribute, at least,
to her lifeless body.
Ah, bitter blow!
Ah, wicked, cruel fate!
Ah, baleful stars!
Ah, avaricious heaven!
Guided by thee, O goddess of hope,
O Hope, thou only solace of afflicted mortals,
I have at last reached these gloomy and sombre realms
where no ray of sunshine ever penetrated.
Thou, my companion and guide,
hast led my feeble and faltering steps
along such strange and unknown paths
where I still hope today to see once more those blessed orbs
which alone bring daylight to my eyes.
Here is the horrible quagmire, here the boatman
who ferries naked spirits to the far shore,
where Pluto has his vast realm of shadows.
Beyond that inky pool, beyond that river,
in those wastes of weeping and grief,
cruel destiny conceals the one who was everything to you.
Now you have need of a stout heart and an entrancing song.
Thus far I have led you
but further I may not come with you
for a harsh law forbids it,
a law inscribed in iron on hard stone
at the hideous threshold of the lowest kingdom,
which in these words declares its ruthless intent:
''Abandon all hope, ye who enter.”
Therefore, if you are still determined in your heart
to set foot in the city of sorrow,
I must hasten away and return to my usual abode.
Where, ah, where art thou going,
my heart's sole sweet comfort,
since now the goal of my long journey is in sight not far away?
Why dost thou turn and abandon me, alas, at this perilous stage?
What well-wisher now will help me on if thou dost desert me,
sweetest Hope?
O you who rashly approach these shores before death,
stay your steps.
It is not given to mortal man to plough these waves
nor can the living have shelter with the dead.
What? Perhaps, as an enemy of my lord,
you wish to drag Cerberus from the gates of Tartarus?
Or, your heart inflamed with lewd desire,
you long to abduct his dear consort?
Curb your foolish presumption, for never more
shall a living body enter my boat
for I still retain in my soul bitter memories
of former outrages, and just anger.
Mighty spirit
and fearsome deity,
without whom no soul, separated from its body,
can presume to gain passage to the other shore.
I am not living, no,
for since my dear wife
is deprived of life
my heart no longer remains with me
and, without a heart, how can it be that I am alive?
To her...
I have made my way
through the turbid air,
yet not to Hades, for wherever
such beauty is found
has paradise in it.
I am Orpheus,
who follow Eurydice's steps
through these murky deserts
where no mortal man has ever trod.
O serene light of my eyes,
if one glance from you can restore me to life,
ah, who would deny me solace in my anguish?
You alone, noble god, can give me aid
nor need to fear since I arm my fingers only
with sweet strings on a golden lyre,
against which the most obdurate spirit steels itself in vain.
Your lament and your song, inconsolable singer,
indeed somewhat seduce me and delight my heart.
But far, ah, far from my breast must pity lie,
a sentiment unworthy of my valour.
Ah, hapless lover that I am, may I not then hope
that the citizens of Avernus will hear my pleas?
Whither, like an unhappy errant shade of an unburied corpse,
shall I to be deprived of both heaven and hell?
Thus does pitiless destiny will
that in this horror of death, far from you, my beloved,
I should call your name in vain
and wear myself out in imploring and weeping?
Oh, give me back my love,
ye gods of Tartarus!
He is asleep
and even if my lyre cannot arouse pity in that stony heart
at least his eyes cannot avoid slumber at my singing.
Up then! Why do I tarry longer?
It is high time to land on the other shore
if there is no one to prevent it.
Let courage prevail if my prayers are to be in vain.
Opportunity is a fleeting flower of time that must be plucked at the right moment.
Whilst my eyes pour forth streams of bitter tears
give me back my love,
ye gods of Tartarus!
No enterprise by man is undertaken in vain
nor can nature further defend herself against him.
He has ploughed the waving fields of the uneven plain
and scattered the seed of his labour,
whence he has reaped golden harvests.
Wherefore, so that the memory of his glory shall live,
Fame has loosened her tongue to speak of him
who tamed the sea with fragile barque
and mocked the fury of the winds of the north and south.
My lord, this unhappy man
who wanders through these vast fields of death,
crying ''Eurydice!”,
and whom you too have just heard making such sweet lament,
has aroused such pity in my heart
that once again I return to beseech your godhead
to accede to his entreaties.
Oh, if ever you have drawn the sweetness of love from these eyes,
if the smoothness of this brow has pleased you that you call your heaven
and on which you swear not to envy Jove his lot,
I implore you
by that fire with which Love set your great soul aflame
permit Eurydice to return
to enjoy those days that she used to spend in festivity and song
and console the grief of the wretched Orpheus.
Although stern and unyielding fate
may oppose your wishes, dear wife,
yet nothing now may be denied to such beauty,
combined with such pleading.
Despite the fatal decree
Orpheus may recover
his beloved Eurydice.
But before his feet are clear of these abysses
he may not once turn his eager eyes towards her
for a single glance will inevitably bring about her eternal loss.
Thus I ordain it.
Now, my servants,
make known my will within my kingdom
so that Orpheus understand it and Eurydice understand it
and no one hope to change it.
O mighty king of the dwellers in eternal shadows,
your command shall be our law
for our thoughts may not seek
other hidden reasons for your will.
Will Orpheus lead his wife from these dreaded caverns?
Will he apply his mind
and not let it be overcome by youthful ardour
nor forget his solemn orders?
What thanks can I render you, my kind lord, now that you
have granted to my entreaties so noble a gift?
Blessed be the day when first I pleased you,
blessed the abduction and the sweet deception,
since, to my good fortune, while losing the sun
I gained you.
Your sweet words
revive in my heart the ancient wound of love.
Let not your soul become so desirous of heavenly delight
that it forsake the marriage bed.
Compassion and Love
triumph today in Hades.
Behold the noble singer
who leads his wife up to the skies above.
What honour will be worthy of you, my all-powerful lyre,
since you have softened every stubborn heart in the realm of Tartarus?
You shall have a place amid the loveliest images of the heavens
where the stars shall dance in circles, now slowly, now quickly, to your sound.
Completely happy through you, I shall see the beloved face
and be gathered today to my lady's snow-white breast.
But while I sing, alas,
who can assure me that she is following me?
Alas, who hides the sweet light of her beloved eyes from me?
Perhaps the gods of Avernus, impelled by envy,
so that I should not be fully happy down here,
prevent me from looking at you, blessed and radiant eyes,
which can bless others with a mere look?
But what do you fear, my heart?
What Pluto forbids, Love commands.
I must obey a more powerful divinity
who conquers both men and gods.
But what do I hear? Woe is me! Perhaps the enamoured Furies
are taking up arms against me to *** my treasure from me?
And I allow it?
O sweetest eyes, now I see you,
now I...
but alas! what eclipse obscures you?
You have broken the law and are unworthy of mercy.
Ah, sight too sweet
and too bitter!
Thus, then, through excess of love you lose me?
And I, unhappy one, lose
the power any longer to enjoy either light or life
and lose you too,
O my husband,
more precious than all else.
Return to the shadows of death, unhappy Eurydice,
and hope no more to see the stars again
for henceforth Hades is deaf to your prayers.
Where are you going, my life?
See, I follow you!
But who prevents me, alas? Am I dreaming or delirious?
What occult power among these horrors drags me against my will
from these horrors I love and leads me to the hateful light?
Virtue is a ray of celestial beauty,
prize of the soul, where alone it is valued.
It does not fear the ravages of time.
On the contrary, with man the years increase its splendour.
Orpheus conquered Hades
and then was conquered
by his emotions.
Worthy of eternal glory is only he who has victory over himself.
These are the plains of Thrace
and this the place where grief pierced my heart
at the bitter tidings.
Since I no longer have any hope of regaining my lost treasure
by pleading, weeping and sighing
what else can I do
but turn to you,
sweet woods, once the comfort of my anguish,
when it pleased heaven
to make you pine with me in pity
at my pining?
You grieved, O mountains, and you mourned,
ye rocks, at the departure of our sun.
And I will mourn with you evermore
and give myself up for ever to my pain and grief.
“...aye, grief!”
Kind, loving Echo, thou who art disconsolate
and dost seek to console me in my sorrow,
although these eyes of mine have already, through weeping, become two fountains,
in such grievous and cruel misery
I still have not tears enough.
“...enough!”
Had I the eyes of Argus
and all were to pour forth a sea of tears
their sorrow would not suffice for such woe.
“...oh!”
If thou hast pity for my misery
I thank thee for thy kindness.
But while I lament, ah,
why dost thou answer me only with my last syllables?
Return my laments to me in full.
But you, my dearest soul,
if ever your cold shade should return
to these friendly slopes
accept from me this final homage
for now I dedicate to you my lyre and my song
as, on the altar of the heart,
I already offered you my ardent spirit in sacrifice.
You were beautiful and wise
and to you bounteous heaven confided all its graces
while to all other women it was sparing of its gifts.
Every praise in every tongue for you is meet
for in your lovely body you harboured a soul still lovelier,
as modest as worthy of honour.
Now other women are haughty and faithless,
callous and fickle to those who adore them,
devoid of judgement and all nobility of thought
so that their conduct is, rightly, not praised.
Therefore may it never happen that Love
pierce my heart with his golden arrow for a worthless woman.
Why thus do you give yourself over as prey to anger and grief, my son?
A generous heart does not advise, no, it does not,
being a slave to its own passions.
Since I see you overcome by reproach and danger
I am come from heaven to give you aid.
Listen to me now
and you shall have praise and life.
Kindly father, you arrive at my time of direst need
for already anger and love had brought me,
in utmost grief, to a desperate end.
Here I am, then, attentive to your arguments,
heavenly father, now impose on me your will.
Far too greatly did you delight in your happy fortune,
now too greatly do you bewail your hard and bitter lot.
Do you still not know how, on earth, nothing that delights is lasting?
Therefore, if you wish to enjoy immortal life,
come with me to heaven, which invites you.
Shall I never more see the sweet eyes of my beloved Eurydice?
You can cherish her fair features in the sun and stars.
Of such a father I should indeed be an unworthy son
if I did not follow your true counsel.
Let us rise, let us rise,
singing, to heaven
where true virtue has its due reward:
joy and peace.
Go, Orpheus, in perfect happiness to enjoy celestial honours
there where good never fails, where sorrow has never existed,
whilst joyously and devotedly we offer you altars, incense and prayers.
Thus goes he who does not recoil at the call of an immortal god.
Thus he obtains grace in heaven who down below braved the inferno.
And he who sows in sorrow reaps the fruits of all grace.