34 Antonio's love song; 



that broad faced incarnation of humour, inimitable Sancho, without 

 thought of high degree or knightly bearing ; thy spirit too fond to 

 be unkind even though Amadis himself should reprove thee for thy 

 familiarity. I see the swarthy goatherds sitting round their skins 

 and acorns, looking on thee with dull admiration and wonder ; I 

 see the amorous Dapple fondling in vain with the neck of his com- 

 panion in arms, the good steed Rozinante, who is too nearly famish- 

 ed to be unchaste. Admirable pairs ! 



There is no noise to disturb the solitude ; the light long branches 

 of the cork trees wave themselves over thee as a canopy. The pic- 

 ture is made. The flesh-pots are empty ; the goatherds pour the 

 acorns before their guests. Taking one between his finger and 

 thumb, the knight breaks forth, "happy times and happy ages, 

 those to which the ancients gave the name of 'golden,' when 

 meum and tuum were sounds unknown in the universal benefac- 

 tion." The knight's sorrowful tones yet breathe the last words 

 of the golden age. The goatherds listen, admiring the manner 

 of their guest. The knight holds an acorn between his finger and 

 thumb ; the images of that blissful period which his imagination 

 had recalled, yet filled his mind — a thousand creations float around 

 him — not as a mere dream, but the delightsome realities of the mo- 

 ment ; for to him all was reality in the shadowy realms of fancy — 

 a moonlight of the mind, when real existencies are lost in the gi- 

 gantic shadows which they cast, not beheld as shadows, but incor- 

 porated in the object. 



The talismanic acorn is still held between his finger and thumb, 

 when the rough tones of the goatherd shock his sensations and dis- 

 pel the dream. The knight looks up — the acorn falls to the ground. 

 " That your worship, Signor Knight-errant, may the more truly 

 say that we entertain you with a ready good will, we will give you 

 some diversion and amusement by making one of our comrades sing, 

 who will soon be here." The tinkling sounds of a rebeck are heard 

 in the distance : — Antonio, welcome. A rustic lover is Antonio ; 

 " a very intelligent lad and deeply enamoured, and, above all, can 

 read and write, and plays on the rebeck to your heart's content.'' 

 Antonio sits himself down upon a little green mound, under the 

 spreading branches of an old oak, and tunes his rebeck with a sin- 

 gular good grace. The broad, good-humoured faced Sancho sets 

 himself more at ease on his haunches ; he fixes his eyes on the sus- 

 pended wine skin. God bless thee, thou simple-minded Squire 



thou who art lost in the delights of hope and ease ! Antonio, thy 

 song : Antonio sings of love—what the acorn was to the knight's 



