Bridging the Continental divide: neo-Latin and its cultural role in Jacobean Scotland, as seen in the Delitiae Poetarum Scotorum (1637)

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Sylva II: a giving of thanks to James Stewart, regent of Scotland, in the name of Amaryllis, on his return from England to his homeland

1Rejoicing shepherds, bind the crown of poplar-wood to the brow, and you boys mixed with maidens, and girls with boys, celebrate with blithe dances. The feast day comes, the golden light hoped for so often in my prayers, behold good Menalcas comes. I used to tie up flowers for myself, and carry them for myself alone, and only allow kisses in our embraces: and truly what more in mind or in prayer could shapely Amaryllis have than that which now, although rashly, she demands, when she rejoices that her loves are restored to her unhurt? Speak to me, Menalcas, more beloved than my mind and eyes: who restored you to us at this time of tumult? Was it the goddess a who feeds the snowy lambs in the neighbouring pastures, and who deceptively sports in human form: was it the virgin, thoroughly moved by the groaning of her suitors and by our tears, who grieved at our sorrow (a conscious flame which burns right through to our marrow), and returned you to the shores of your nation?   [p164] Or was it rather, as I prefer it, our mutual love that drew you back, and the passion that enflames our vital parts in equal measure?

20Alas! How quickly after your departure did the flowers fall from my hair, and my former beauty abandoned me, and even my voice, rivalling the woodland Nymphs, which soothed the wild beasts, and which moved the unfeeling rocks (a sight in itself), with a sweet modulation laughed at nothing. And I who before happily sang then began to sing songs with a dying voice, like the voice with which the dying swan sings. b Indeed, often I began to wander, fleeing the daily business of the hated mob, and took shade in the bowers of an empty wood, as if the solemn crowd and these places alone could alleviate sorrow, and in vain I attempted to alleviate quiet sorrow with song. But neither the deserted dens of wild beasts, nor the songs diminished my frenzied sorrows. Such a passion for he who was absent, such love for Menalcas tormented me. Or even if I began to blow upon fragile reeds, or the pipe was brought near to my lips, they always echoed back tearfully, and your name sang out from the reed: the pipe taken up began to call the name of shapely Menalcas. But even then, having set down the reeds, as I began to attempt with sonorous voice to sooth my sad soul with sweet tune, sad sighs interrupted my frolicsome singing, and with these prayers I began invoking the gods and the surrounding countryside: c

42'O gods, whichever of you rural deities equal the gods of Faunus, d if both true piety and faith have power, if we burdened the sacred altars with a tender lamb, Amaryllis has not frustrated the gods of their deserved honour; yield a single gift easily for her due reward: you know that the other part of our soul is detained on foreign shores; keep safe, o you deities, the half part of my soul; keep Menalcas safe. And tell me, you masters of the sky-blue south sea, does our love survive intact, and press equally upon his noble mind, and does he burn with our heat? Or does a mistress make him linger with her bewitching song, and has ruinous oblivion taken the place of passion for me? e Ah, what use is my lamenting? Sooner will the Nereids live in caves, and the Dordonids abandon their caves and inhabit the glassy sea, f   [p165] Germany will first tear apart the Caledonian woods, and discordant Cornwall drink of the Forth, than love for him depart from our breast. He used to prefer my figure to all his girlfriends, and he always seemed the most handsome to me. But it is burdensome to submit to slow delays, and to bear continual weariness; please allow me to see his pleasing face: then new life will be poured into my half-dead limbs.' Sorrow prompted these and many other things as her tears welled up.

66Yet often when sleep detained my limbs in peaceful slumber, my fleeting dreams themselves kept putting your face before me, to remind me of kisses (sweet visions), and to no avail I clung to those desired embraces: then, when sorrow was renewed at the sun's rising, I made bitter curses against lying sleep. What shall I do? This robber of my love has not appeared, who gathers his locks that flow with gold around his neck, and who displays his stunning body without blemish, and rosy cheeks, and hands and feet for praise: neither can I provide him with mealy chestnuts or golden apples, or lay hold of new flowers from a blessed garden. And for that reason the partner has been separated as the vine that wilts upon the earth from the elm, and refuses pleasing grapes to its cultivators: so I, my life, while I look (but in vain) for you, have sunk from elegant appearance into exhausted ugliness.

82This love for you was not just in my breast; the anxiety was tormenting livestock and the masters of livestock alike. Foul scabies infected the sheep, and a worse plague the goats, and the little lambs fell with their mothers. Often the wolf was in the stables, often he laid in wait upon the sheep-pen; and the wild lions who inhabit isolated caves set upon the flock with hungry mouth, and the unarmed shepherd who follows them equally becomes fair game for bear and lion. Nay indeed, our sorrows are just like living floods, and the green fields, well planted, lie untilled; the woods have dropped their foliage, and the gardens are stripped of their flowers, and the woodland gods have refused to beat time to sweet songs. Then the blithe dances of the Nymphs stopped, the mute nightingale is silent, Acanthis yielded to wailing, g   [p166] and Phoebus turned his chariot against the opposing south winds. No wonder, as God himself - who ruled the livestock and the masters of the livestock, to whom the wood with its foliage, to whom the bower with its fruits, the vines with their crimson grapes, to whom the gardens with their flowers, to whom the rivers with their rushing, to whom the land with its pleasing produce was charming, whom Pan with his song, and the Nymphs with their dances and the shepherds with me among them used to fill with delight - was absent, alas, wandering on far-off shores. Now, handsome Menalcas, after such sorrow it is right to see your face, and to touch your longed-for hand: grief will depart, and sorrowful worries fall away from my breast: and new joys take precedence in my anxious mind. Nay indeed, feelings of joy come to the shepherds themselves, and the livestock rejoice, and welcome their lord: even the earth itself truly looks bright, with the gentle west winds soothing the air: the woodland takes up again the honours it had set down, and grace full of praise returns to resurrected fields: but my chiefest desire, my life, when I see you, is to embrace you when you return to your native soil.

115Thus behold, wherever you put your feet, you will tread on scattered flowers, lest harsh rocks bruise your soles, or prickly thorns tear at your arms. Your body, surrounded by soft fabric, will bind up these well-omened times in the purple flower. h And for your safe return, as love dictates, we will dispense the established prayers, and we will appease the gods with prayers, and the sacred altars with the spilled blood of an innocent lamb. Now I know how proper it is for girls to be unwavering in their love, and not to prefer a beautiful vision to he who is absent, when the hour so dear does not come to those awaiting it. For recently wealthy Amyntas, with his handsome face, proferred himself before me, seeing my sad expression on a peaceful shore-side, my cheeks fouled with tears, and face with filth, and held me spellbound with expensive gifts; the show-off threatens the plunder of my effort and of my beauty, but neither desire for his promised gift nor threats began to move me. Let Amyntas flourish far from my sight. It is not right for me (so the enduring wisdom prevails upon my mind) to love others, nor has it ever been right to hate Menalcas.  [p167] But hurry yourself, beloved Menalcas, with swift step, to come under my roof, and enter into my most private hiding-places. i Blushing excessively with the bashfulness of a maiden, and hiding from laughter and gossip behind the trees, I do not reveal myself. Neither do I conceal passion in my look, or silent rage in my mind: but I extend my pale arms, once covered, and my snowy bosom to you, far sweeter than delights you've sought up to now (caring nothing for what spiteful rumour says about me), while I may say you are the dearest of the dear nymphs. This also might encourage you to hurry back faster: little Iolas, that tiny boy, your playmate in the national court, whom you often used to prefer to Narcissus and to Iulus, whose kisses poured ambrosia and nectar perfumed with sweet nard upon you, calls out more sweetly and invites your lips upon his little lips, with your arms extended around his milky neck. But look! My entreaties to fortune and pleas to those above has resulted in the happy fates, previously unmoved, giving us leave: so God (have I heard correctly? or does love instead fashion more empty dreams for me?) but so he replied from the deepest cave: 'now go Nymph, most beloved to God; and handsome Menalcas, as husband, father and son, will pass through happy years with you, beautiful Amaryllis.'