Prompt:
Dulcina
As at noone Dulcina rested
In her sweete and shady bower;
Came a shepherd, and requested
In her lapp to sleepe an hour.
But from her looke
A wounde he tooke
So deepe, that for a further boone
The nymph he prayes.
Whereto shee sayes,
Forgoe me now, come to me soone.
But in vayne shee did conjure him
To depart her presence soe;
Having a thousand tongues to allure him,
And but one to bid him goe:
Where lipps invite,
And eyes delight,
And cheekes, as fresh as rose in June,
Persuade delay;
What boots, she say,
Forgoe me now, come to me soone?
He demands what time for pleasure
Can there be more fit than now:
She sayes, night gives loves that leysure,
Which the day cannot allow.
He sayes, the sight
Improves delight.
Which she denies: Night's mirkie noone
In Venus' playes
Makes bold, shee sayes;
Forgoe me now, come to me soone.
But what promise or profession
From his hands could purchase scope?
Who would sell the sweet possession
Of such beautye for a hope?
Or for the sight
Of lingering night
Forgoe the present joyes of noone?
Though ne'er so faire
Her speeches were,
Forgoe me now, come to me soone.
How, at last, agreed these lovers?
Shee was fayre; and he was young:
The tongue may tell what th' eye discovers;
Joyes unseene are never sung.
Did she consent,
Or he relent:
Accepts he night, or grants she noone;
Left he her a mayd,
Or not; she sayd
Forgoe me now, come to me soone.
The young shepherd leaned on his crook and scanned the valley for the last of his sheep. The low hills were like rising waves on a green sea, spread out in gentle ripples all the way to the river. There. Like a fleck of white foam on the crest of one of those waves was the lost sheep.
He set off to collect his wayward charge, sighing deeply. The shepherd’s legs sung with weariness as he crossed the hills, his tired footsteps plodding. His fluffy wards seemed to enjoy nothing more than to scatter across the valley, taunting him to come and herd them together again. The young shepherd wished for the hundredth time that he had a dog at his side to help him.
“There you are, all by yourself,” The youth said to the sheep. “Aren’t you all supposed to do the same thing? Then why is it that every time I turn my back, just one of you decides to wander off?”
The animal cropped at the grass on the hillside without acknowledging his presence. Sighing again, the young man scratched the sheep behind the ears and stood for a moment, enjoying the shade provided by a spreading oak on the top of the hill. He gave himself a moment of rest under the tree before tapping the wooly rebel with his crook and sending it trotting back towards the rest of the herd at the bottom of the hill.
He was about to set off after his charge, they did need constant guidance to keep them moving in the right direction after all, when he felt a cool breeze at his back. Out of all proportion to the temperature of the wind, his skin prickled with goosebumps and she shivered. He turned around slowly, knowing that he would see something more there than an old oak, but clueless as to what it would be.
There, in the deep shade beneath the thick canopy was a young woman. The noonday shadows seemed deeper and darker than they should have been, dimming the reclining shape under the tree. The shepherd drew in a long breath, but did not take another for some time as he gazed at her.
She was slender and young, her face caught between the gentle roundness of youth and the stark beauty of womanhood. Her unbound hair was long and dark, laying against her white shoulders in sable waves. She wore a dress of summer blue that flowed against the curves of her body like water. But as beautiful as she appeared to be, the shadows under the oak’s bower cast a dark mask over her face.
“G-good afternoon, my lady…” the shepherd stammered. The bleating of the sheep faded from his mind.
The woman laughed sweetly, her head tilted. The shepherd wished he could see her smile, knowing that it would be the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Why were the shadows so dark? It was noon and bright.
“Good afternoon, young sir. I am Dulcina…” She said. Her voice was as musical as her laugh. The shepherd’s heart beat faster.
“My lady… the day is hot and my work is hard…may I be so bold as to beg a favor?” His voice trembled, sounding harsh and crude in his ears after the sweetness of her laughter. But the brave words tumbled from his lips regardless. Heedless.
“Grant me the softness of your lap for just an hour of sleep.”
“Boldness deserves its reward…” Dulcina said.
Her eyes glinted through the shadows for just a moment. But a moment was all it took for him to fall in love.
He walked to her and knelt down in the grass at the edge of the shadows.
“Then let me be bolder still, dear Dulcina. I love you. Come here to me and we will lay with each other beneath the sun. I would see your face. I could ask no greater gift.”
Dulcina almost reached out to him, her heart equally stolen. But her pale fingers did not cross the line between shadow and bright sunlight.
“My love,” she said to him. “Come back tonight, after the sun has set, and I shall be yours. But I cannot come to you now.”
“Love cannot be denied,” the young shepherd insisted and he reached to take her hand. To pull her into his arms and lay with her on the sweet grass. As his fingers penetrated the shows beneath the old tree he felt only coldness, as if he were dipping his hand into a cool stream. He could not feel the softness of her hand, her caress was like smoke.
“Love cannot be denied,” Dulcina whispered, “but love can be delayed. I am not part of your world, beloved, but belong to another. If I leave these shadows and enter the light, then your world claims me and I shall be no more than a human girl, I cannot go back.”
Dulcina lowered her hand slowly, reluctantly. Though she argued delay, she longed with all her heart to give herself to him. The shepherd withdrew his hand and looked at it in awe. Awe and sadness, for his heart had been stolen by a spirit.
“Come to me tonight, dear one, and enter my world. I shall give myself to you then, and we can be together forever.”
They knelt on the grass, one in shadow and one in light, like lovers separated by a vast ocean, though no more than a blade of grass could have passed between them.
“Leave my world?” The youth moaned. His parents, his brothers and sisters, everything that he knew was here under the sun. Could he leave it all behind to follow his heart into to the shadow? Though he could not see her face, he knew the same war was being fought in her heart.
Through the day he pleaded with her to step into the light so he could see her, to join him in his world, and always she argued that he wait and come back that night. Dusk arrived and the sun was reduced to a flaming crescent on the horizon, spilling fiery rays over the green hills. Day gave way to night.
But love cannot be denied. Just as the last sunlight disappeared from the earth, two lovers stepped together into one world.
4 comments:
Nicely done. It really gives new meaning to the phrase "under the sun" when talking about the two worlds existing in seperate lights.
When the narrative mentions that he sees her eyes glimmer from the shadows, and it was enough to make him love her, it makes me think his love is unnatural or caused by some kind of magic hidden in her face. But if that is the case, why does she love him? Is there also magic in his eyes? The fact that she also fell for him is mentioned, but not really explained. I'm not sure I'm enough of a romantic to simply accept that she really does love him, especially as she's reluctant to become human for him.
I wonder which world they chose after all... I like to think it was her world (otherwise they'd have waited all day for nothing).
Something to think about: endings impact what readers walk away from the story with. I'm uncertain with this ending whether I'm supposed to be glad they finally joined together, or whether I'm supposed to worry about which world they stepped into.
Couple of edits: "As his fingers penetrated the shows (should be shadows) beneath the old tree he felt only coldness, as if he were dipping his hand into a cool stream. He could not feel the softness of her hand, (and/but/other prep. phrase needed here) her caress was like smoke."
Thanks for the edits. I meant to run it by Erica first, to remove those simple mistakes that get in the way, but I sent it out at the end of the day at work (on Friday no less) - the time of the week when my brain is running at it's lowest capacity.
In hindsight, I should have described Dulcina falling in love as well (and the fact that the shepherd was just as reluctant to become a spirit as she was to become human). The poem is romantic and melodramatic, and I interpreted the poem as love at first sight. I felt like I was fumbling with the prompt, though so I'm not surprised there are a lot of areas that need to be strengthened.
The poem ends ambiguously, so I ended the story in doubt of which world they decided on too. I think that in a longer piece I might have tried to build up some more tension about the two worlds and made which one they joined more important. Basically all I did here was change the poem into prose.
I feel that my main accomplishment with this piece was writing it, though I'm glad it came out this well.
Thanks for your comments and help!
:)
I found I empathize more with the young shepherd. I mean, he's got a family and a flock of sheep that depend on him. I can understand giving things up for love, but I feel like he'd be the one making all the sacrifices. What's she got to lose?
Other than that, I enjoyed reading this. I liked that she was from a different world, that her little pool of shade was like a pocket dimension inside our world.
Whoops, I totally forgot to post any comments here >.< I gave them all in person.
I loved the story, it was a really cool interpretation. I would have suggested naming the shepherd... finding that many ways to say "young shepherd" got a little awkward.
<< In addition to the comments I emailed ;)
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