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Chapter 1
Shipwreck and Loss
Young Strephon and wise Claius, two shepherds, reach the coast of Laconia (in Greece) across from Cythera (the island of Venus, goddess of love), where they muse on their memories of Urania (“heavenly spirit”). Now they see Musidorus (“gift of the muses”) floating in the sea, clinging to a casket. As soon as he revives, Musidorus seeks to rescue his friend Pyrocles (“fiery glory”), who floats on a broken mast, waving his sword. Pirates foil the rescue. Another ship besets the pirates.
It was in the time of year when the earth puts on her new apparel against the approach of her lover, and the sun, running a most even course, becomes an indifferent arbiter between the night and the day, that the hopeless shepherd Strephon came to the sands across from the island of Cythera. Viewing the place with a heavy kind of delight and sometimes casting his eyes isleward, he called unto him his friendly rival, the pastor Claius, setting down in his darkened countenance a doleful copy of what he would speak.
“My Claius,” said he, “hither we are come to pay the rent for which we are called by over-busy remembrance. Remembrance, restless remembrance, claims not only this duty of us, but will have us forget ourselves.
“I pray you, when we were amid our flock and that of other shepherds, some running after their sheep strayed beyond their bounds, some delighting their eyes with seeing them nibble upon the short and sweet grass, some medicining their sick ewes, some setting a bell for an ensign of a sheepish squadron, some (with more leisure) inventing games to exercise their bodies and sport their wits, did remembrance grant us any holiday? When have we had time for amusements or devotion, nay, for necessary food or natural rest but that remembrance forced our thoughts to work upon this place where we last graced our eyes upon Urania’s ever-flourishing beauty (alas, that the word last should so long last)? Did not remembrance cry within us, ‘Ah, you base-minded wretches, are your thoughts so deeply mired in the trade of ordinary worldlings (to gain what some paltry wool may yield you) that you let so much time pass without knowing perfectly Urania’s estate, especially in so troublesome a season? You left the shore unsaluted from which you may see to the island where she dwells. You left unkissed those steps on which Urania printed the farewell of all beauty.
“Well, then, remembrance commanded; we obeyed. And here we find that as our remembrance came to us always clothed in the form of this place, so this place gives new heat to the fever of our languishing remembrance. Yonder, my Claius, Urania alighted (the very horse, methought, bewailed to be so disburdened). And as for thee, poor Claius, when thou wentst to help her down, I saw reverence and desire so divide thee that thou didst blush and quake at one instant, and instead of bearing her, thou wert ready to fall thyself.
“There she sat, vouchsafing2 my cloak under her, making it gorgeous.
“At yonder rising of the ground she turned and looked back toward her wonted abode with much sorrow in her eyes because of her parting, but her eyes were so naturally cheerful that even sorrow seemed to smile. She turned and spoke to all of us, opening the cherry of her lips, and Lord, how greedily my ears fed upon the sweet words she uttered. She laid her hand over your eyes when she saw the tears springing up in them, as if she would conceal them from others while yet she herself felt some of your sorrow.
“Over there she put her foot into a boat, and at that instant she divided her heavenly beauty between the earth and the sea. Don’t you remember how the winds whistled and the seas danced for joy when she embarked? The sails swelled with pride because they had Urania, O Urania, blessed be thou, Urania—the sweetest fairness, and the fairest sweetness!” With that word, his voice broke so with sobbing that he could speak no further.
Then Claius answered: “Alas, my Strephon, what’s the point of this reckoning, if only to total our losses? What doubt is there—the very light of this place calls our thoughts to appear at the court of affection held by that racking steward, remembrance. As well may sheep forget to fear when they spy wolves as we can miss such fancies when we see any place made happy by her treading. Who that saw her can help but remember where she stayed, where she walked, where she turned, where she spoke?
“So what is all this? Only that, as this place serves to remind us of those things, so those things serve as places to call to memory more excellent matters.
“No, no, let us think with consideration, and consider with acknowledgement, and acknowledge with admiration, and admire with love, and love with joy in the midst of all woes. Thus we should consider how our poor eyes were enriched to behold, and our low hearts exalted to love, a maid whose beauty is the greatest thing the world can show, while it’s the least thing about her that may be praised.
“Her eyelids were more pleasant to behold than two white kids climbing up a fair tree and browsing on its most tender branches. Yet her eyes were nothing compared to the day-shining stars contained in them, her breath sweeter than a gentle southwest wind, which comes creeping over flowery fields and shadowed waters in the extreme heat of summer, and yet it was nothing compared to the honey-flowing speech her breath carried. Our eyes having seen her, now whatever else they shall see is but the dry stubble of clover-grass. But then nothing our eyes saw of her can match the flock of indescribable virtues delightfully penned in that best-built fold.
“Indeed, as we can better consider the sun’s beauty by marking how he gilds these waters and mountains than by looking upon his face (too glorious for our weak eyes), so it may be that our conceits (unable to bear her sun-staining excellence) will better weigh Urania by her effect on meaner subjects.
“And who, alas, are better witnesses than we, whose experience is grounded upon feeling? Has not our love for her made us (being silly ignorant shepherds) raise our thoughts above the ordinary level of the world, so that great clerks do not disdain our conversation? Has not the desire to seem worthy in her eyes made us stay awake to view the course of the heavens, while others were sleeping? When others were running bases, we ran over learned writings. When others were marking their sheep, we were marking ourselves. Has she not bridled, as it were, our desires with reason, and given eyes to blind Cupid? Has any beloved besides her ever maintained friendship between rivals? Has any beauty but hers taught the beholders chastity?”
He was going on with his praises, but Strephon bade him pause and look out to sea, where they both perceived a thing which floated and drew nearer and nearer to the shore, moved by the favorable current of the sea and not its own workings.
They wondered a while what it might be, until it was cast up directly before them, at which time they fully saw that it was a man. When for pity’s sake they ran to him, they found his hands—more constant friends to his life than his memory—gripping hard on the edge of a small, square coffer under his chest but otherwise in him no sign of life, the box but a bier carrying him to land, to his sepulcher. They drew him up, a young man of so goodly shape and well-pleasing face that one would think death in him had a lovely countenance and that, even though he was naked, nakedness was to him clothing. That sight increased their compassion, and their compassion called up their care. Lifting his feet above his head, they made a great deal of salt water come out of his mouth, then laid him upon some of their garments and began to rub and chafe him till they brought him to recover both breath (the servant of living) and warmth (its companion).
At length he opened his eyes and gave a great groan, a doleful note but a pleasant ditty, for by that they found not only life in him, but strength of life. They therefore continued their charitable business until, his spirits having well returned to him, he got up without so much as thanking them for their trouble
