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Brain Computer Interfaces 1 Foundations and methods
1st Edition Maureen Clerc Digital Instant Download
Author(s): Maureen Clerc, Laurent Bougrain, Fabien Lotte
ISBN(s): 9781848218260, 1848218265
Edition: 1
File Details: PDF, 11.10 MB
Year: 2016
Language: english
Brain–Computer Interfaces 1
Series Editor
Maureen Clerc
Brain–Computer Interfaces 1
Edited by
Maureen Clerc
Laurent Bougrain
Fabien Lotte
First published 2016 in Great Britain and the United States by ISTE Ltd and John Wiley & Sons, Inc.
Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as
permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced,
stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers,
or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms and licenses issued by the
CLA. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside these terms should be sent to the publishers at the
undermentioned address:
www.iste.co.uk www.wiley.com
Foreword . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xiii
José D EL R. M ILLAN
Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xv
Maureen C LERC, Laurent B OUGRAIN and Fabien L OTTE
1.7. Conclusions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23
1.8. Bibliography . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24
This wide range of fields that contribute to BCI makes it difficult, if not
impossible, to have a unified view covering all the facets of this fascinating
scientific and translational enterprise. Thus, a certain bias is always present and
openly acknowledged in our research. This book is no exception. It is edited
by signal processing and machine learning specialists. Yet, aiming to become
a reference for the French speaking research community, it gathers a collective
body of expertise from all the fields involved in BCI research and practice. We
consider this a challenge that the editors have successfully tackled, as the book
covers state-of-the-art research and results in a way that all other communities
can relate to. Furthermore, the curious layperson – I hope you are if you want
to live long with a healthy brain! – can also profit from a significant number
of chapters that do not require any specific background.
The book is organized into seven parts, distributed in two volumes. In the
first volume (Foundations and Methods) , readers walk along the path
covering the main principles of BCI, with all its subtle meanders which they
may decide to jump over or to explore in more details. This is a volume that
we may well need to read in several iterations as we go into detail into the
field and its different components. Part 1 provides all the necessary
background in anatomy and physiology of the brain and nervous system to
understand BCI from a neuroscience perspective. Part 2 covers the signal
processing and machine learning sides of BCI, while Part 3 deals with human
learning, and the interplay between the human and the machine.
José D EL R. M ILLÁN
Geneva
Switzerland
May 2016
Introduction
I.1. History
The idea of being able to control a device through mere thought is not new.
In the scientific world, this idea was proposed by Jacques Vidal in 1973 in an
article entitled “Toward Direct Brain–Computer Communications” [VID 73].
In this article, the Belgian scientist, who had studied in Paris and taught at the
University of California, Los Angeles, describes the hardware architecture
and the processing he sought to implement in order to produce a BCI through
electroencephalographic signals. In 1971, Eberhard Fetz had already shown
that it was possible to teach a monkey to voluntarily control motor cortex
brain activity by providing visual information according to discharge
rate [FET 71]. These two references show that since that time, BCIs could be
implemented in the form of invasive or non-invasive brain activity
measurements, that is, measurements of brain activity at the neural or scalp
levels. For a more comprehensive history of BCIs, the reader may refer to the
following articles: [LEB 06, VAA 09].
Although BCIs have been present in the field of research for over 40 years,
they have only recently come to the media’s attention, often described in catchy
headlines such as “writing through thought is possible” or “a man controls a
robot arm by thinking”. Beyond announcements motivated by journalists’ love
for novelty or by scientists and developers’ hopes of attracting the attention of
the public and of potential funding sources, what are the real possibilities for
BCIs within and outside research labs?
Applications
Feedback
Brain Translation
Wheel chair
activity into a
recording command
Prosthesis
Preprocessing Classification
Feature IT applications
extraction (text editors,
video games, etc.)
Two stages are usually necessary in order to use a BCI: (1) an offline
calibration stage, during which the system’s settings are determined, and (2)
an online operational stage, during which the system recognizes the user’s
xviii Brain–Computer Interfaces 1
brain activity patterns and translates them into application commands. The
BCI research community is currently searching for solutions to help avoid the
costly offline calibration stage (see, for example, [KIN 14, LOT 15]).
Let us now examine some systems that are generally related to BCIs.
Neuroprostheses are systems that link an artificial device to the nervous
system. Upper limb neuroprostheses analyze electric neuromuscular signals
to identify movements that the robotic limb will carry out. Neuroprostheses
are not BCIs if they do not employ brain activity, but rather, the peripheral
nervous system activity. Exoskeletons also make it possible to bring life to a
limb by equipping it with mechanical reinforcement, but to date they are very
seldom activated by brain activity1. Cochlear implants and artificial retinas
can be compared to neuroprostheses since they connect a device that replaces
1 However, the MindWalker project has started research in that direction; see
https://mindwalker-project.eu/.
xx Brain–Computer Interfaces 1
a defective organ with the central nervous system. However, these kinds of
implants differ from BCIs in their directionality, since they do not measure
neural activity, but rather stimulate it artificially.
I.2.4. Terminology
Several other terms are employed to refer to BCIs. In this regard, the term
“brain–machine interface” refers to the same idea, although the term is more
often used when the brain measurements are invasive. Although more rarely,
the term “direct neural interface” is also sometimes used to designate BCIs.
In this book, the term “brain–computer interface” will be employed because it
underscores the idea that the processing chain is not fixed; this is to say that
the system may adapt to evolutions in brain signals and the user’s preferences
through learning. The acronym BCI will also largely be used throughout the
book, since it is the most commonly employed.
This book seeks to give an account of the current state of advances in BCIs
by describing in detail the most common methods for designing and using
them. Each chapter is written by specialists in the field and is presented in
the most accessible way possible in order to address as large an audience as
possible. This book, Volume 1 (Foundations and Methods), is followed by a
second book, Volume 2 (Technology and Applications).
This first volume introduces the basic notions necessary to understand how
a BCI works.
The brain stands at the core of a BCI. It is an organ whose functioning still
remains largely beyond our understanding, although its basic principles are
known. The first part of the book, entitled “Anatomy and Physiology”,
explains the anatomical and physiological foundations of BCIs, as well as the
pathologies to which they can be applied. This part also explores devices that
make it possible to measure brain activity. Finally, it studies the
neurophysiological markers used in active or reactive BCIs, and in passive
interfaces.
Introduction xxi
MIRENO TO SILVERIA.
He who once gave unto thee
Most of all he did possess,
Unto thee now, shepherdess,
Sends what remnant there may be;
Even this poor paper where
Clearly written he hath shown
The faith that from thee hath gone,
What remains with him, despair.
But perchance it doth avail
Little that I tell thee this,
If my faith bring me no bliss,
And my woe to please thee fail;
Think not that I seek to mourn,
To complain that thou dost leave me;
'Tis too late that I should grieve me
For my early love forlorn.
Time was when thou fain wouldst hear
All my tale of misery;
If a tear were in my eye,
Thou therewith wouldst shed a tear:
Then Mireno was in truth
He on whom thine eyes were set,
Changed thou art and dost forget,
All the joyous time of youth!
Did that error but endure,
Tempered were my bitter sadness;
Fancied joy brings greater gladness
Than a loss well known and sure.
But 'twas thou that didst ordain
My misfortune and distress,
Making by thy fickleness
False my bliss and sure my pain.
From thy words so full of lies
And my ears that, weak, believed,
Fancied joys have I received,
And undoubted miseries.
Seeming pleasures once me crowned
With the buoyancy of youth,
But the evils in their truth
To my sorrow do redound.
Hence I judge and know full well
Hence I judge and know full well,
And it cannot be denied,
That its glory and its pride
Love hath at the gates of hell;
Whoso doth not set his gaze
Upon Love, from joy to pain
By oblivion and disdain
Is brought in a moment's space.
With such swiftness thou hast wrought
This mysterious transformation,
That already desperation
And not gain becomes my lot;
For methinks 'twas yesterday
Thou didst love me, or didst feign
Love at least, for this is plain,
What I must believe to-day.
Still thy pleasing voice I hear
Uttering sweet and witty things,
Still thy loving reasonings
Are resounding in my ear;
But these memories at last,
Though they please, yet torture more,
Since away the breezes bore
Words and works adown the blast.
Wert thou she who in her pride
Swore her days on earth should end,
If she did not love her friend
More than all she loved beside?
Wert thou she who to me showed
How she loved with such good-will,
That, although I was her ill,
She did hold me for her good?
Oh if but I could thee hate
As thou hatest me, thy name
Would I brand with fitting shame,
Since thou'rt thankless and ingrate;
Yet it useless is for me
Thus to hate thee and disdain,
Love to me is greater gain
Than forgetfulness to thee.
To my singing sad lament,
To my springtime winter's snow,
To my springtime winter s snow,
To my laughter bitter woe
Thy relentless hand hath sent
It has changed my joyous dress
To the garb of those that mourn,
Love's soft flower to poignant thorn,
Love's sweet fruit to bitterness.
Thou wilt say—thereat I bleed—
That thy marriage to this swain,
Thy forgetfulness again,
Is a noble honest deed;
If it were not known to thee
That in thy betrothal hour
My life ended evermore,
Then I might admit thy plea.
But thy pleasure in a word
Pleasure was; but 'twas not just,
Since my faith and loyal trust
Did but earn unjust reward;
For my faith, since it doth see
How to show its faithfulness,
Wanes not through thy fickleness,
Faints not through my misery.
None will wonder—surely no man,
When he comes to know the truth,
Seeing that I am a youth,
And, Silveria, thou art woman;
Ever in her, we believe,
Hath its home inconstancy;
Second nature 'tis to me
Thus to suffer and to grieve.
Thee a wedded bride I view
Now repentant, making moan,
For it is a fact well known
That thou wilt in naught be true;
Gladly seek the yoke to bear
That thou on thy neck didst cast,
For thou may'st it hate at last,
But for ever 'twill be there.
Yet so fickle is thy state,
And thy mood is so severe,
That what yesterday was dear
That what yesterday was dear
Thou must needs to-morrow hate;
Hence in some mysterious way,
'Lovely 'midst her fickleness,
Fickle 'midst her loveliness,'
He who speaks of thee will say.
The shepherds did not think ill of Mireno's verses, but of the
occasion for which they had been made, considering with what
rapidity Silveria's fickleness had brought him to the pass of
abandoning his beloved country and dear friends, each one fearful
lest, as the result of his suit, the same thing might happen to him.
Then, after they had entered the village and come to where Daranio
and Silveria were, the festivities began with as much joy and
merriment as had been seen for a long time on the banks of the
Tagus; for, as Daranio was one of the richest shepherds of all that
district, and Silveria one of the fairest shepherdesses of all the river-
side, all or most of the shepherds of those parts assisted at their
wedding. And so there was a fine gathering of discreet shepherds
and fair shepherdesses, and amongst those who excelled the rest in
many different qualities were the sad Orompo, the jealous Orfenio,
the absent Crisio, and the love-lorn Marsilio, all youths and all in
love, though oppressed by different passions, for sad Orompo was
tormented by the untimely death of his beloved Listea, jealous
Orfenio by the unbearable rage of jealousy, being in love with the
fair shepherdess Eandra, absent Crisio by seeing himself parted from
Claraura, a fair and discreet shepherdess, whom he counted his only
joy, and despairing Marsilio by the hatred against him existing in
Belisa's breast. They were all friends and from the same village;
each was not ignorant of the other's love, but, on the contrary, in
mournful rivalry they had ofttimes come together, each to extol the
cause of his torment, seeking each one to show, as best he could,
that his grief exceeded every other, counting it the highest glory to
be superior in pain; and all had such wit, or, to express it better,
suffered such grief, that, however they might indicate it, they
showed it was the greatest that could be imagined. Through these
disputes and rivalries they were famous and renowned on all the
banks of the Tagus, and had caused in Thyrsis and Damon desire to
know them; and, seeing them there together, they offered one
another courteous and pleasing greetings, all especially regarding
with admiration the two shepherds Thyrsis and Damon, up till then
only known to them by repute. At this moment came the rich
shepherd Daranio, dressed in mountain garb; he wore a high-necked
smock with pleated collar, a frieze vest, a green coat cut low at the
neck, breeches of fine linen, blue gaiters, round shoes, a studded
belt, and a quartered bonnet the colour of the coat. No less finely
adorned came forth his bride Silveria, for she came with skirt and
bodice of fawn, bordered with white satin, a tucker worked with blue
and green, a neckerchief of yellow thread sprinkled with silver
embroidery, the contrivance of Galatea and Florisa, who dressed her,
a turquoise-coloured coif with fringes of red silk, gilded pattens of
cork, dainty close-fitting shoes, rich corals, a ring of gold, and above
all her beauty, which adorned her more than all. After her came the
peerless Galatea, like the sun after the dawn, and her friend Florisa,
with many other fair shepherdesses, who had come to the wedding
to honour it; and amongst them, too, came Teolinda, taking care to
conceal her face from the eyes of Damon and Thyrsis, so as not to
be recognised by them. And straightway the shepherdesses,
following the shepherds their guides, to the sound of many rustic
instruments, made their way to the temple, during which time Elicio
and Erastro found time to feast their eyes on Galatea's fair
countenance, desiring that that way might last longer than the long
wandering of Ulysses. And, at the joy of seeing her, Erastro was so
beside himself, that addressing Elicio he said to him:
'What are you looking at, shepherd, if you are not looking at
Galatea? But how will you be able to look at the sun of her locks, the
heaven of her brow, the stars of her eyes, the snow of her
countenance, the crimson of her cheeks, the colour of her lips, the
ivory of her teeth, the crystal of her neck, and the marble of her
breast?'
'All this have I been able to see, oh Erastro,' replied Elicio, 'and
naught of all you have said is the cause of my torment, but it is the
hardness of her disposition, for if it were not such as you know, all
the graces and beauties you recognise in Galatea would be the
occasion of our greater glory.'
'You say well,' said Erastro; 'but yet you will not be able to deny to
me, that if Galatea were not so fair, she would not be so desired,
and if she were not so desired, our pain would not be so great, since
it all springs from desire.'
'I cannot deny to you, Erastro,' replied Elicio, 'that all grief and
sorrow whatsoever springs from the want and lack of that which we
desire; but at the same time I wish to tell you that the quality of the
love with which I thought you loved Galatea has fallen greatly in my
estimation, for if you merely love her because she is fair, she has
very little to thank you for, since there will be no man, however
rustic he be, who sees her but desires her, for beauty, wherever it
be, carries with it the power of creating desire. Thus no reward is
due to this simple desire, because it is so natural, for if it were due,
by merely desiring Heaven, we would have deserved it. But you see
already, Erastro, that the opposite is so much the case, as our true
law has shown to us; and granted that beauty and loveliness are a
principal factor in attracting us to desire them and to seek to enjoy
them, he who would be a true lover must not count such enjoyment
his highest good; but rather, though beauty causes this desire in
him, he must love the one only because the desire is honourable,
without any other interest moving him, and this can be called, even
in things of this life, perfect and true love, and is worthy of gratitude
and reward. Just as we see that the Maker of all things openly and
fittingly rewards those who, not being moved by any other interest,
whether of fear, pain, or hope of glory, love Him, worship Him, and
serve Him only because he is good and worthy of being worshipped;
and this is the last and greatest perfection contained in divine love,
and in human love, too, when one does not love except because
what one loves is good, without there being an error of judgment,
for ofttimes the bad seems to us good, and the good bad, and so we
love the one and abhor the other, and such love as this does not
deserve reward but punishment. I wish to imply from all I have said,
oh Erastro, that if you love and worship Galatea's beauty with intent
to enjoy it, and the goal of your desire stops at this point without
passing on to love her virtue, her increase of fame, her welfare, her
life and prosperity, know that you do not love as you ought, nor
ought you to be rewarded as you wish.'
Erastro would fain have replied to Elicio, and given him to
understand that he did not understand rightly concerning the love
with which he loved Galatea; but this was prevented by the sound of
the pipe of loveless Lenio, who also wished to be present at
Daranio's wedding, and to gladden the festivities with his song; and
so setting himself in front of the betrothed pair, whilst they were
going to the temple, to the sound of Eugenio's rebeck he went
singing these verses:
LENIO.
Unknown, ungrateful Love, that dost appal
At times the gallant hearts of all our race,
And with vain shapes and shades fantastical
In the free soul dost countless fetters place,
If, proud of godhead, thou thyself dost call
By such a lofty name, spurn in disgrace
Him, who, surrendered to the marriage tie,
To a new noose would yield his fantasy.
Already those who listened to the loveless Lenio as they went along
were wondering at seeing with what meekness he was treating the
things of Love, calling him a god, and of a mighty hand—a thing
they had never heard him say. But having heard the verses with
which he ended his song, they could not refrain from laughter, for it
already seemed to them that he was getting angry as he went on,
and that if he proceeded further in his song, he would deal with love
as he was wont at other times; but time failed him, for the way was
at an end. And so, when they had come to the temple, and the usual
ceremonies had been performed therein by the priests, Daranio and
Silveria remained bound in a tight and perpetual knot, not without
the envy of many who saw them, nor without the grief of some who
coveted Silveria's beauty. But every grief would have been surpassed
by that which the hapless Mireno would have felt, had he been
present at this spectacle. The wedded pair having returned from the
temple with the same company that had escorted them, came to the
village square, where they found the tables set, and where Daranio
wished publicly to make a demonstration of his wealth, offering to all
the people a liberal and sumptuous feast. The square was so
covered with branches, that it seemed a lovely green forest, the
branches interwoven above in such wise that the sun's keen rays in
all that compass found no entry to warm the cool ground, which was
covered with many sword-lilies and a great diversity of flowers.
There, then, to the general content of all was celebrated the liberal
banquet, to the sound of many pastoral instruments, which gave no
less pleasure than is wont to be given by the bands playing in
harmony usual in royal palaces; but that which most exalted the
feast was to see, that, on removing the tables, they made with much
speed in the same place a stage, because the four discreet and
hapless shepherds, Orompo, Marsilio, Crisio, and Orfenio, so as to
honour their friend Daranio's wedding, and to satisfy the desire
Thyrsis and Damon had to hear them, wished there in public to
recite an eclogue, which they themselves had composed on the
occasion of their own griefs. All the shepherds and shepherdesses
who were there being then arranged in their seats, after that
Erastro's pipe, and Lenio's lyre and the other instruments made
those present keep peaceful and marvellous silence, the first who
showed himself in the humble theatre was the sad Orompo, clad in
black skin-coat, and a crook of yellow box-wood in his hand, the end
of which was an ugly figure of Death. He came crowned with leaves
of mournful cypress, all emblems of grief which reigned in him by
reason of the untimely death of his beloved Listea; and after he had,
with sad look, turned his weeping eyes in all directions, with tokens
of infinite grief and bitterness he broke the silence with words like
these:
OROMPO.
Come from the depths of my grief-stricken breast,
Oh words of blood, with death commingled come,
Break open the left side that keeps you dumb,
If 'tis my sighs perchance that hold you fast.
The air impedes you, for 'tis fired at last
By the fierce poison of your utterance;
Come forth and let the breezes bear you hence,
As they have borne my bliss adown the blast.
For ye will lose but little when ye see
Yourselves lost, since your lofty theme has gone,
For whom in weighty style and perfect tone
Utterance ye gave to things of high degree.
Famed were ye once, of high renown were ye,
For sweetness, and for wittiness and gladness;
But now for bitterness, for tears and sadness,
Will ye by Heaven and earth appraisèd be.
Although ye issue trembling at my cry
With what words can ye utter what I feel,
If my fierce torment is incapable
Of being as 'tis painted vividly?
Alas, for neither means nor time have I
To express the pain and sinking at my heart;
But what my tongue doth lack to tell its smart,
My eyes by constant weeping may supply.
Oh death, who cuttest short by cruel guile
A thousand pleasant purposes of man,
And in a moment turnest hill to plain,
Making Henares equal unto Nile,
Why didst thou temper not thy cruel style,
Traitor, and why didst thou, in my despite,
Make trial on a bosom fair and white
Of thy fierce hanger's edge with fury vile?
How came it that the green and tender years
Of that fair lamb did, false one, thee displease?
Wherefore didst thou my woes by hers increase?
Why didst thou show thyself to her so fierce?
Enemy mine, friend of deceitful cares,
Goest thou from me who seek thee, and concealest
Thyself from me, while thou thyself revealest
To him who more than I thy evils fears?
On riper years thy law tyrannical
On riper years thy law tyrannical
Might well its giant vigour have displayed,
Nor dealt its cruel blow against a maid,
Who hath of living had enjoyment small;
But yet thy sickle which arrangeth all—
By no prayer turned aside nor word of power—
Moweth with ruthless blade the tender flower
E'en as the knotty reed, stalwart and tall.
When thou Listea from the world away
Didst take, thy nature and thy strength, thy worth,
Thy spirit, wrath and lordship to the earth
Thou didst by that proud deed alone display.
All that the earth possesseth fair and gay,
Graceful and witty, thou didst likewise doom,
When thou didst doom Listea; in her tomb
Thou didst with her this wealth of blisses lay.
My painful life grows longer, and its weight
I can no more upon my shoulders bear,
For without her I am in darkness drear;
His life is death who is not fortunate.
I have no hope in fortune nor in fate,
I have no hope in time, no hope in Heaven;
I may not hope for solace to be given,
Nor yet for good where evil is so great.
Oh ye who feel what sorrow is, come, find
In mine your consolation, when ye see
Its strength, its vigour and alacrity;
Then ye will see how far yours falls behind.
Where are ye now, shepherds graceful and kind,
Crisio, Marsilio, and Orfenio? What
Do ye? Why come ye not? Why count ye not
Mine greater far than troubles of your mind?
But who is this who cometh into sight,
Emerging at the crossing of yon path?
Marsilio 'tis, whom Love as prisoner hath,
The cause Belisa, her praise his delight.
The fierce snake of disdain with cruel bite
His soul doth ever gnaw and eke his breast,
He spends his life in torment without rest,
And yet not his but mine the blacker plight.
He thinks the ill that makes his soul complain
Is greater than the sorrow of my woe.
Is greater than the sorrow of my woe.
Within this thicket 'twill be well to go,
That I may see if he perchance complain.
Alas! to think to match it with the pain
That never leaves me is but vanity.
The road mine opens that to ill draws nigh,
Closing the pathway that doth bliss attain.
MARSILIO.
Oh steps that by steps bring
Me to death's agonies
I am constrained to blame your tardiness!
Unto the sweet lot cling,
For in your swiftness lies
My bliss, and in such hour of bitterness.
Behold, me to distress,
The hardness of my foe
Within her angry breast,
Hostile unto my rest,
Doth ever do what it was wont to do,
And therefore let us flee,
If but we can, from her dread cruelty.
To what clime shall I go,
Or to what land unknown
To make my dwelling there, that I may be
Safe from tormenting woe,
From sad and certain moan,
Which shall not end till it hath ended me?
Whether I stay or flee
To Libya's sandy plains
Or to the dwelling-place
Of Scythia's savage race,
One thing alone doth mitigate my pain;
That a contented mind
I do not in a change of dwelling find.
It wins me everywhere,
The rigorous disdain
Of her that hath no peer, my cruel foe,
And yet an issue fair
'Tis not for me to gain
From Love or hope amidst such cruel woe.
Belisa, daylight's glow,
Thou glory of our age,
If prayers of a friend
Have power thy will to bend,
Temper of thy right hand the ruthless rage!
The fire my breast doth hold,
May it have power in thine to melt the cold.
Yet deaf unto my cry,
Ruthless and merciless,
As to the wearied mariner's appeal
As to the wearied mariner s appeal
The tempest raging by
That stirs the angry sea,
Threatening to life the doom unspeakable,
Adamant, marble, steel,
And rugged Alpine brow,
The sturdy holm-oak old,
The oak that to the cold
North wind its lofty crest doth never bow,
All gentle are and kind
Compared unto the wrath in thee we find.
My hard and bitter fate,
My unrelenting star,
My will that bears it all and suffereth,
This doom did promulgate,
Thankless Belisa fair,
That I should serve and love thee e'en in death
Though thy brow threateneth
With ruthless, angry frown,
And though thine eyes so clear
A thousand woes declare,
Yet mistress of this soul I shall thee crown,
Until a mortal veil
Of flesh no more on earth my soul conceal.
Can there be good that vies
With my tormenting ill,
Can any earthly ill such anguish give?
For each of them doth rise
Far beyond human skill,
And without her in living death I live,
In disdain I revive
My faith, and there 'tis found
Burnt with the chilly cold.
What vanity behold,
The unwonted sorrow that my soul doth wound!
Can it be equal, see,
Unto the ill that fain would greater be?
But who is he who stirs
The interwoven boughs
Of this round-crested myrtle, thick and green?
OROMPO.
A shepherd who avers,
Reasoning from his woes,
Founding his words upon the truth therein,
That it must needs be seen
His sorrow doth surpass
The sorrow thou dost feel,
The higher thou mayst raise it,
Exalt it, and appraise it.
MARS.
Conquered wilt thou remain in such a deal,
Orompo, friend so true.
And thou thyself shalt witness be thereto.
If of my agonies,
If of my maddening ill,
The very smallest part thou didst but know,
Thy vanities would cease,
For thou wouldst see that still
My sufferings all are true, and thine but show.
OROMPO.
Deem thy mysterious woe
A phantom of the mind,
Than mine, that doth distress
My life, reckon thine less,
For I will save thee from thine error blind,
And the dear truth reveal,
That thy ill is a shadow, mine is real.
But, lo! the voice I hear
Of Crisio, sounding plain.
A shepherd he, whose views with thine agree,
To him let us give ear,
For his distressful pain
Maketh him swell with pride, as thine doth thee.
MARS.
To-day time offers me
Place and occasion where
I can display to both
And prove to you the truth
That only I misfortune know and care.
OROMPO.
Marsilio, now attend
Unto the voice and sad theme of thy friend.
CRISIO.
Ah! hard oppressive absence, sad and drear,
How far must he have been from knowing thee,
Who did thy force and violence compare
To death's invincible supremacy!
For when death doth pronounce his doom severe,
What then can he do more, so weak is he,
That to undo the knot and stoutest tether
That holdeth soul and body firm together?
Thy cruel sword to greater ill extends,
Since into two one spirit it doth part.
Love's miracles, which no man understands,
Nor are attained by learning or by art.
Oh let my soul with one who understands,
There leave its half, and bring the weaker part
Hither, whereby more ill I on me lay,
Than if from life I were far, far away!
Away am I from yonder eyes so fair,
Which calmed my torment in my hour of need,
Eyes, life of him who could behold them clear,
If they the fancy did not further lead;
For to behold and think of merit there
Is but a foolish, daring, reckless deed,
I see them not, I saw them to my wrong,
And now I perish, for to see I long.
Longing have I, and rightly, to behold—
The term of my distress to abbreviate—
This friendship rent in twain which hath of old
United soul to flesh with love so great,
That from the frame set free which doth it hold,
With ready speed and wondrous flight elate,
It will be able to behold again
Those eyes, relief and glory to its pain.
Pain is the payment and the recompense
That Love doth to the absent lover give;
Herein is summed all suffering and offence,
That in Love's sufferings we do perceive;
Neither to use discretion for defence,
Nor in the fire of loyal love to live
With thoughts exalted, doth avail to assuage
This torment's cruel pain and violent rage.
Raging and violent is this cruel distress
Raging and violent is this cruel distress,
And yet withal so long doth it endure,
That, ere it endeth, endeth steadfastness,
And even life's career, wretched and poor;
Death, jealousy, disdain, and fickleness,
An unkind, angry heart, do not assure
Such torment, nor inflict wounds so severe,
As doth this ill, whose very name is fear.
Fearful it were, did not a grief, so fierce
As this, produce in me such mortal grief;
And yet it is not mortal, since my years
End not, though I am absent from my life;
But I'll no more my woeful song rehearse,
For to such swains, in charm and wisdom chief,
As those I see before me, 'twill be right
That I should show to see them more delight.
OROMPO.
Delight thy presence gives us, Crisio friend,
And more, because thou comest at an hour,
When we our ancient difference may end.
CRISIO.
If it delights thee, come, let us once more
Begin, for in Marsilio of our strife
A righteous judge we have to plead before.
MARS.
Clearly ye show and prove your error rife,
Wherewith ye twain are so besotted, drawn
By the vain fancy that rules o'er your life,
Since ye wish that the sorrows ye bemoan,
Although so small, should be to mine preferred,
Bewailed enough, and yet so little known.
But that it may by earth and Heaven be heard,
How far your sorrows fall below the pain
That hath my soul beset and hope deferred,
I will the least my bosom doth contain,
Put forth, with all the feeble wit I have—
Methinks the victory in your strife I'll gain—
And unto you I shall the verdict leave,
To judge my ill whether it harroweth
More than the absence which doth Crisio grieve,
Or than the dread and bitter ill of death;
For each of you doth heedless make his plaint,
Bitter and brief he calls the lot he hath.
OROMPO.
Thereat I feel, Marsilio, much content,
Because the reason I have on my side,
Hath to my anguish hope of triumph sent.
CRISIO.
Although the skill is unto me denied
To exaggerate, when I my grief proclaim,
Ye will behold how yours are set aside.
MARS.
Unto the deathless hardness of my dame
What absence reaches? Though so hard is she,
Mistress of beauty her the world acclaim.
OROMPO.
At what a happy hour and juncture see,
Orfenio comes in sight! Be ye intent,
And ye will hear him weigh his misery.
'Tis jealousy that doth his soul torment,
A very knife is jealousy, the sure
Disturber of Love's peace and Love's content.
CRISIO.
Hearken, he sings the griefs he doth endure.
ORFENIO.
Oh gloomy shadow, thou that followest
My sorrowing and confused fancy still,
Thou darkness irksome, thou that, cold and chill,
Hast ever my content and light oppressed.
When will it be that thou thy bitterest
Wrath wilt assuage, cruel monster, harpy fell?
What dost thou gain to make my joy a hell?
What bliss, that thou my bliss dost from me wrest?
But if the mood thou dost upon thee take,
Leadeth thee on to seek his life to steal,
Who life and being unto thee did give,
Methinks I should not wonder thou dost wreak
Thy will upon me, and upon my weal,
But that despite my woes, I yet do live.
OROMPO.
If the delightful mead
Is pleasant to thee as 'twas wont to be
In times that now are dead,
Come hither; thou art free
To spend the day in our sad company.
He that is sad agrees
Easily with the sad, as thou must know;
Come hither, here one flees,
Beside this clear spring's flow,
The sun's bright rays that high in heaven glow.
Come and thyself defend,
As is thy custom, raise thy wonted strain,
Against each sorrowing friend.
For each doth strive amain
To show that his alone is truly pain.
I only in the strife
Must needs opponent be to each and all,
The sorrow of my life
I can indeed extol,
But cannot give expression to the whole.
ORFENIO.
The luscious grassy sward
Is not unto the hungry lamb so sweet,
Nor health once more restored
Doth he so gladly greet
Who had already held its loss complete,
As pleasant 'tis for me
In the contest that is at hand to show
That the cruel misery
My suffering heart doth know
Is far above the greatest here below.
Orompo, speak no word
Of thy great ill, Crisio, thy grief contain,
Let naught from thee be heard,
Marsilio; death, disdain,
Absence, seek not to rival jealous pain.
But if Heaven so desires
That we to-day should seek the battle-field,
Begin, whoso aspires,
And of his sorrow yield
Token with all the skill his tongue can wield.
A truthful history
In the pure truth doth find its resting-place.
For it can never be,
That elegance and grace
Of speech can form its substance and its base.
CRISIO.
Shepherd, in this great arrogance I feel
Thou wilt reveal the folly of thy life
When in this strife of passions we engage.
ORFENIO.
Thy pride assuage or show it in its hour,
Thine anguish sore is but a pastime, friend,
The souls that bend in grief, because they go
Away, their woe must needs exaggerate.
CRISIO.
So strange and great the torment is I moan,
That thou full soon thyself, I trust, wilt say
That nothing may with my fatigues compare.
MARS.
An evil star shone on me from my birth.
OROMPO.
Ere yet on earth I came, methinks e'en then
Misfortune, pain, and misery, were mine.
ORFENIO.
In me divine the greatest of ill-fortune.
CRISIO.
Thy ill is fortune, when to mine compared.
MARS.
When it is paired with my mysterious ill,
The wound that kills you is but glory plain.
OROMPO.
This tangled skein will soon be very clear,
When bright and clear my grief it doth reveal.
Let none conceal the pain his breast within,
For I the tale of mine do now begin.
In good ground my hopes were sown,
Goodly fruit they promised then,
But when their desire was known,
And their willingness was shown,
Heaven changed their fruit to pain.
I beheld their wondrous flower,
Eager happiness to shower
On me—thousand proofs it gave—
Death that envious did it crave
Plucked it in that very hour.
Like the labourer was I,
Who doth toil without relief
And with lingering energy,
Winning from his destiny
But the bitter fruit of grief:
Destiny doth take away
All hope of a better day,
For the Heaven that to him brings
Confidence of better things
It beneath the earth did lay.
If to this pass I attain,
That e'en now I live, despairing
Whether I shall glory gain.
Since I suffer beyond bearing,
'Tis a certain truth and plain:
That amidst the darkest gloom
Hope assures that there shall come
Yet a happier, brighter dawn.
Woe for him, whose hope is gone,
Buried in the hopeless tomb.
MARS.
From mine eyes the tear-drops fall
On a spot where many a thorn,
Many a bramble, hath been born
To my hurt, for, once and all,
They my loving heart have torn:
I am luckless, yes, 'tis I,
Though my cheeks were never dry
For a moment in my grief,
Yet nor fruit, nor flower, nor leaf,
Have I won, howe'er I try.
For my bosom would be stilled,
If I might a token see
Of some gain, small though it be;
Though it never were fulfilled,
I should win felicity:
For the worth I should behold
Of my fond persistence bold
Over her who doth so scorn,
That she at my chill doth burn,
At my fire is chilly cold.
But if all the toil is vain
Of my mourning and my sigh,
And I still cease not my cry,
With my more than human pain
What on earth can hope to vie?
Dead the cause is of thy grief,
This, Orompo, brings relief,
And thy sorrow doth suppress;
But when my grief most doth press
On me, 'tis beyond belief.
CRISIO.
Once the fruit that was the dower
Of my ceaseless adoration
I held in its ripest hour;
Ere I tasted it, occasion
Came and snatched it from my power:
I above the rest the name
Of unfortunate can claim,
Since to suffering I shall come,
For no longer lies my doom
Where I left my soul aflame.
When death robs us of our bliss,
We for ever from it part,
And we find relief in this.
Time can soften e'en the heart
Hard and firm against Love's cries.
But in absence we the pain
Of death, jealousy, disdain,
Feel with ne'er a glimpse of gladness,—
Strange it is—hence fear and sadness
With the absent one remain.
When the hope at hand is near,
And the accomplishment delays,
Harder is the pain we bear,
And affliction reacheth where
Hope doth never lift its gaze;
In the lesser pangs ye feel
'Tis the remedy of your ill
Not to hope for remedy,
But this solace faileth me,
For the pangs of absence kill.
ORFENIO.
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