Don Quixote
Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra
TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE Page 7
But it is, after all, the humour of "Don Quixote" that distinguishes it from all other books of the romance kind. It is this that makes it, as one of the most judicial-minded of modern critics calls it, "the best novel in the world beyond all comparison." It is its varied humour, ranging from broad farce to comedy as subtle as Shakespeare's or Moliere's that has naturalised it in every country where there are readers, and made it a classic in every language that has a literature.
SOME COMMENDATORY VERSES
URGANDA THE UNKNOWN
To the book of Don Quixote of la Mancha
If to be welcomed by the good, O Book! thou make thy steady aim, No empty chatterer will dare To question or dispute thy claim. But if perchance thou hast a mind To win of idiots approbation, Lost labour will be thy reward, Though they'll pretend appreciation.
They say a goodly shade he finds Who shelters 'neath a goodly tree; And such a one thy kindly star In Bejar bath provided thee: A royal tree whose spreading boughs A show of princely fruit display; A tree that bears a noble Duke, The Alexander of his day.
Put no vain emblems on thy shield; All figures--that is bragging play. A modest dedication make, And give no scoffer room to say, "What! Alvaro de Luna here? Or is it Hannibal again? Or does King Francis at Madrid Once more of destiny complain?"
Be not a meddler; no affair Of thine the life thy neighbours lead: Be prudent; oft the random jest Recoils upon the jester's head. Thy constant labour let it be To earn thyself an honest name, For fooleries preserved in print Are perpetuity of shame.
A furtcounsel bear in mind: If that thy roof be made of glass, It shows small wit to pick up stones To pelt the people as they pass. Win the attention of the wise, And give the thinker food for thought; Whoso indites frivolities, Will but by simpletons be sought.
AMADIS OF GAUL To Don Quixote of la Mancha
SONNET
DON BELIANIS OF GREECE To Don Quixote of la Mancha
SONNET
In slashing, hewing, cleaving, word and deed, I was the foremost knight of chivalry, Stout, bold, expert, as e'er the world did see; Thousands from the oppressor's wrong I freed; Great were my feats, eternal fame their meed; In love I proved my truth and loyalty; The hugest giant was a dwarf for me; Ever to knighthood's laws gave I good heed. My mastery the Fickle Goddess owned, And even Chance, submitting to control, Grasped by the forelock, yielded to my will. Yet--though above yon horned moon enthroned My fortune seems to sit--great Quixote, still Envy of thy achievements fills my soul.
THE LADY OF ORIANA To Dulcinea del Toboso
SONNET
GANDALIN, SQUIRE OF AMADIS OF GAUL, To Sancho Panza, squire of Don Quixote
SONNET
All hail, illustrious man! Fortune, when she Bound thee apprentice to the esquire trade, care and tenderness of thee displayed, Shaping thy course from misadventure free. No longer now doth proud knight-errantry Regard with scorn the sickle and the spade; Of towering arrogance less count is made Than of plain esquire-like simplicity. I envy thee thy Dapple, and thy name, And those alforjas thou wast wont to stuff With comforts that thy providence proclaim. Excellent Sancho! hail to thee again! To thee alone the Ovid of our Spain Does homage with the rustic kiss and cuff.
FROM EL DONOSO, THE MOTLEY POET,
On Sancho Panza and Rocinante
ON SANCHO
ON ROCINANTE
I am that Rocinante fa--, Great-grandson of great Babie--, Who, all for being lean and bon--, Had one Don Quixote for an own--; But if I matched him well in weak--, I never took short commons meek--, But kept myself in corn by steal--, A trick I learned from Lazaril--, When with a piece of straw so neat-- The blind man of his wine he cheat--.
SONNET
If thou art not a Peer, peer thou hast none; Among a thousand Peers thou art a peer; Nor is there room for one when thou art near, Unvanquished victor, great unconquered one! Orlando, by Angelica undone, Am I; o'er distant seas condemned to steer, And to Fame's altars as an offering bear Valour respected by Oblivion. I cannot be thy rival, for thy fame And prowess rise above all rivalry, Albeit both bereft of wits we go. But, though the Scythian or the Moor to tame Was not thy lot, still thou dost rival me: Love binds us in a fellowship of woe.
THE KNIGHT OF PHOEBUS
To Don Quixote of La Mancha
My sword was not to be compared with thine Phoebus of Spain, marvel of courtesy, Nor with thy famous arm this hand of mine That smote from east to west as lightnings fly. I scorned all empire, and that monarchy The rosy east held out did I resign For one glance of Claridiana's eye, The bright Aurora for whose love I pine. A miracle of constancy my love; And banished by her ruthless cruelty, This arm had might the rage of Hell to tame. But, Gothic Quixote, happier thou dost prove, For thou dost live in Dulcinea's name, And famous, honoured, wise, she lives in thee.
FROM SOLISDAN To Don Quixote of La Mancha
SONNET
DIALOGUE Between Babieca and Rocinante
SONNET
B. "How comes it, Rocinante, you're so lean?" R. "I'm underfed, with overwork I'm worn." B. "But what becomes of all the hay and corn?" R. "My master gives me none; he's much too mean." B. "Come, come, you show ill-breeding, sir, I ween; 'T is like an ass your master thus to scorn." R. He is an ass, will die an ass, an ass was born; Why, he's in love; what's what's plainer to be seen?" B. "To be in love is folly?"--R. "No great sense." B. "You're metaphysical."--R. "From want of food." B. "Rail at the squire, then."--R. "Why, what's the good? I might indeed complain of him, I grant ye, But, squire or master, where's the difference? They're both as sorry hacks as Rocinante."