Virtues History
The source for this document is https://quod.lib.umich.edu/e/eebo/A11081.0001.001
Project Note
This is licensed under Creative Commons CC BY-NC-ND. This license allows reusers to copy and distribute the material in any medium or format in unadapted form only, for noncommercial purposes only, and only so long as attribution is given to the creator.
The source of this document is the Early English Books Online (EEBO-TCP) website. Those books were transcribed in a character for character manner and can be very cumbersome to read since there was no standard spelling during that time. Many spelling variations such as "unlesse", "vnlesse", and "vnles" regularly appear.
This project was conceived to clean up those books as much as possible and make them more accessible to the interested reader, leading to the creation of a massive list of variant spellings and their corrections. This was used to clean up the text, but is of course only as complete as the list itself. Because of the nature of the original transcription, some words have missing characters or places where the original language (e.g., Greek) was not transcribed. This effort does not change that. Be aware that the original transcription can also be faulty and in some cases entire sentences may be missing.
Although this is no substitute for a properly compared, proofed, and scholarly edition, I believe that the result is a document which is far more accessible, particularly for searching for terms using standard spelling. The document has been cleaned and presented in what I hope is a pleasing and useful format for the vast majority of Christian brothers and sisters who just want access to read these spiritually nourishing works.
However, a word of warning: The Puritans were a very diverse group of people and their age was characterized with godliness, but also much upheaval, disputation and strife. They disagreed on many doctrines and some of these works contain less orthodox or Scriptural views than others. The reader is strongly advised to read with discernment, particularly if it is unknown whether author is trustworthy.
This project took a huge amount of time and skill to bring to fruition. I would particularly like to thank David Jonescue for the initial list of Puritans he found on EEBO and the concept behind this project as well as the continuous, unceasing efforts toward seeing this complete. Without his labor, this would not be available. Alex Sarrouf was invaluable in providing the initial list of over 7,000 spelling variations he had identified and corrected, as well as continuing to review more than 16,000 additions to that list for any typos.
Logan West
(with David Jonescue and Alex Sarrouf)
www.puritansearch.org
THVLE, Or Virtues History.
To the Honorable and virtuous Mistress AMY AVDELY. By F. R.
At London Printed by Felix Kingston, for Humfrey Lownes. 1598.
To the Reader.
NOr lift I crave the gentle Readers praise,
Nor make base prayers to the Critick ears,
Nor humbly beg for undeserved bayes,
My bolder Muse no cruel censure fears:
Let starueling Poets and that baser sort,
To wrested favor witles heads exhort.
Nor do I fear those
Scyllaes
dogged heads,
Which still are barking at the passingers;
And sat their thirsty jaws on worthier deeds,
Scorning the bones of threedbare carrion verse:
My Muse shall fly those Basilisks aspect,
Which with their poysned rays all things infect.
The sixteenth spring had with her flowrie veil
Wrapt all the earth, warmed with th'approaching Sun,
And did gainst winters ragged force prevail;
Who straight to cold
Cocitus
streams did run:
Where in congealed frost for deep disgrace,
He willful hides his blushing hoary face.
When I too young do drive this chariot,
Plowd up the furrows of my fruitless wit,
And in this spring this timely child begot,
And to men's favors now adventure it:
Where let it hazard for more lucky chance,
And with his worth his humble name advance.
Where infant fly the lowering brows of age,
Auoyd the wrinkles of his furrowed face,
Thy state fits not their graver carriage,
But to the younger sort direct thy pace:
Where while thou sitst thy loved peers among,
Bid them or not correct or mend thy song.
And fly the earthly poets servile soul,
That sels the Muses for each peasants brass;
Those mercenaries faults thou mayest control,
Whose deeds fair
Helicons
sweet streams debase:
And thou more glorying in immunity,
Fly far the name of prentise-poetrie.
Next scorn the scorner of a Poets pen,
That counts it base in tuned lines to sing,
And leaves it for the poor and needy men,
That hope to gain by rimed flattering:
Tell him not all
Parnassus
yet is sold,
But yet one head the lovely Muses hold.
Which heau'nly
Sydney
living did adorn,
And Scottish
James
bedeckt with princely writ,
Whose names black envy and deaths force do scorn,
Eterniz'd with the glory of their wit:
Whose hallowed steps not to be trodden more,
Following a far full humbly I adore.
The Prologue unto the first Book.
THese have I careless writ with running hand,
Whom art not shadoweth, but as clearest light,
Wanting none
Oedipus
all open stand,
Fit for the dimmer eyes and weaker sight.
But they whose Eagle-eyes can dare the Sun,
And love high soaring from the lowly ground,
Let them not blame what I have willful done,
Some better like the Oaten rural sound.
And let those curious eyes a while await,
Until the second service shall begin,
Where we will seek for some more dainty meat,
And stranger fruits then on this table been:
Where if they list they may their thirst appease,
Which songs my Muse to higher tunes shall raise.
The Argument.
OF that same I will which darkness long hath chaind
In gloomy prison of obscurity;
Islandia
I mean, so long retaind
From human view by times impiety;
Olde stories newly shall be intertaind.
Freed from the silent graves impurity,
To tell the virtuous though their days do end,
Yet on their fall their glory doth ascend.
Of which th'
Italian
swan sung long ago,
Whose Queen the lothed wcoers did beguile,
And causde them for a shield to
Paris
go,
And for her sake to suffer Loves exile,
Exagitate by dangers to and fro:
From thence my pen must fetch her foreign tasks,
And thence transport my hidden stories masks.
Only (sweet you) to whom this show shall come,
Hearken attentive to the strangers tale
Summond thus lately from Obliuions tomb,
Expecting for your favors gentle gale:
Else shall he wish that he had still been dumb,
Nor raysde his pitch from out that lowly vale:
Where love enioynd him for a while to dwell,
To paint the torments of that burning hell.
CANT. I.
Aged
Sobrinus
and his wife
Are tane a sleep, their daughter flies:
The Captain riddes his mates of life,
Because they quarrels do devise.
At last the stately fort they burnd;
And with
Erona
thence he turned.
D
Owne in a valley lies a bushy wood,
Of mighty trees in order fair composde,
Within whose center stately buildings stood,
In this air-climbing Siluan wall enclosde,
And seemde their equal tops each other wooed,
That Art to Nature all her strength opposed:
And Nature scorning at her servants pride,
With a dim shadow did her beauty hide.
Within this Castle dwelt an aged Sire,
Who with his years had learned experience,
And though he wanted youths now-quenched fire,
Yet had a holy flame, sweet residence,
And kindled in his heart a pure desire,
To do good works and far from all offense:
Sobrinus
was his name, his nature such,
He thought his alms too few, his wealth too much.
And yet he gave to poor continual plenty,
Filling the bellies which were long vnsed;
And quickly made his treasure coffers empty,
Sparing himself to give the needy bread;
Such was his goodness, such his liberal bounty,
As still he paid though still he borrowed;
Their port was small he and his wife alone,
A daughter and a maid but servants none.
Thus had they spent the tenor of their days
In mirth, with reason, and in joy with mean;
He never felt sad sickness sharp disease,
And she from any grief was ever clean,
Both post the troubles of life's weary ways,
And scapit those dangers which do others pain,
Sleeping securely each in others breast,
No fear their careless minds had ere oppressed.
Until when Night the counselor of ill,
Had lift her cloudy head from pitchy deeps,
And did with darkness all th'Horizon fill,
Mischiefe the hellish witch that never sleeps,
When everything besides is calm and still,
From out her snaky cabin ugly creeps;
And took with her a box of devilish drugs,
Which issue from her venom▪nourished dugs.
Sister she is of hell begotten Night,
Her eyes by day are dim, and still she lies
Within her cell, removed from the light:
But when the tired Sun to bedward hyes,
Then doth she bristle up her wings for flight,
As soon as she her sister once espyes:
And going thence she flies with double haste,
And comes back mourning that her joy doth waste.
And now this hag of Hell, foul loathsome spright,
Crawling from out her gore-bedewed nest;
And having set her skalie pineons right,
Trauailes when other things from labor ceased,
And to a grove adjoining takes her flight,
Where after boles of wine and riotous feast,
Buried in sleep the thieves and robbers lay,
Forgetting that the night had brought their day.
She having entered to this cell of sin,
Her self more sinful then sins loathsome cell,
To sprinkle all their bodies doth begin,
And charm them with this soul-perverting spell:
Which done she lifts her on her double sin,
And slowly flies unto her vices Hell:
Which done she weeps upon her pitchie door,
That she should in ere she had mischief'd more.
The while that rout of mischief-tainted thieves,
Rouzing each other from their cabinets,
One pulls the other by their venom'd sleeves,
And with more poison all his hand be wets,
Which with more stings his egged conscience greeues,
That this their stay should interpose more lets:
At last all wakit, all into counsel fall,
And which hurteth most, that pleaseth all.
At length their Captain
Bonauallant
hight,
Riseth from out their hellish counsel-house,
And takes a golden cup with pearls bedight,
And drinking to his mates a full carrouse,
Tels them, let never danger you affright,
Nor let your harts great hills bring forth a mouse;
But follow me that still have happy been,
(The worser hap for some such hap was seen.)
Then all arising like the studious Bees,
That for the golden honey follow fast:
Each hopes to gain his serious labors fees,
And everyone doth scorn to follow last,
Least he his hoped fruits perhaps might leese,
Therefore each strives to make more speedy hast:
At length they come unto this stately fort,
And each to mischief doth his friend exhort.
Even as when good
Aeneas
crossed the seas,
And
Aeolus
sent his whirling servants out;
Neptune
awaked from his nightly ease,
Calde all his
Tritons
and his guard about,
And counseld all the tumults to appease,
And be reueng'd on that unruly rout:
So do these rau'n-tongd birds of
Plutoes
quier,
Complot to spoil that holy sleeping sier.
At last with violence and open force,
They brake the posternes of the Castle gate,
And entered spoiling all without remorse,
Nor could old
Sobrin
now resist his fate,
But stiff with fear eu'n like a senceles corse,
Whom grisly terror doth so much amate,
He lies supine upon his fatal bed,
Expecting every minute to be dead.
While as
Deuota
his religious wife,
Sent prayers the sweet ambassadors to God,
The heralds to prepare a better life:
For now approacheth deaths deuasting rod,
Sharper then sharpest edge of keenest knife,
That with his stroke denies life's long abode:
Which now is settled in these butchers hands,
That bound in chains of sin pass conscience bands.
Up rushing now unto the lodge they run,
Striuing who first should work this cruel deed:
Nor could their prayers stay what was begun,
But still they prosecute with greater speed,
And long it seemed before their fact was done,
So much did blood their hellish hunger feed,
That to invent some kind of cruel death,
They added loathed respite to their breath.
At last one bellowed from his wolvish throat,
This bloody doom the brat of savage mind,
Quoth he, Then let this old gray-haired goat
Be set in grave alive, and there be pinde,
And to this varlet, which for age doth dote,
To be beheaded only is assignde:
So is he buried ere his corps be dead,
And she with cruel blow parts from her head.
So have I seen the chaste and purest dove,
Striken by cruel fowlers shiuering shot,
Disseuerd from her nere-forsaken love,
Fall on the ground ere she her self had wot,
And with one spraule for sweetest living strove,
But all her piteous struggling helped her not:
So have I seen that purest bird to die,
As here doth this sweet carcass mangled lie.
Now whiles this wicked pageant thus is played,
Viceina
daughter to this reverend man,
Viewing these facts and of the like afraid,
As fast as tender thighs transport her can,
Flies comfortless, and poor forsaken maid,
Her look with former terror pale and wan:
But her mis-haps when these black deeds are told,
In sequent lines more fit I will unfold.
The house all ransacked, and the coffers torn,
They found
Sobrinus
maid
Erona
calde,
Whom
Bonauallant
thence would straight have borne,
For she was fair and then with fear appalde,
She added doule grace to that beforne,
Which with sharp stings his burning stomach galde,
That with this ouerscorching passion fired,
To carry her closely thence he straight conspired.
But they whose eyes soul lawles lust had taught,
Moued with envy at so fair a pray,
Told him that he false treachery had wrought,
In seeking thus to steal the prize away,
Since it was common, and in common caught,
He should unto the common laws obey.
Which is, that what so ere by force was gaind,
Should to their common use still be retaind.
But he whom beauty, and these words commou'd,
Drew out his often-blood-embrewed sword,
And cries; here take the sport so much ye loved;
This lasse shall kisses to your lips afford,
And with that speech his mighty valor prou'd;
And cloue ones skull like to a riuen bord:
The second laying down the ware he found,
Left ware, and crazed head upon the-ground.
Their fellows seeing this their mates mis-hap,
Left all their treasure, and their gains behind,
And fearing some ensuing thunderclap,
In coward swiftness do their safety find,
While he triumphing in this lucky hap,
Taught by the maid two coursers doth vnbind,
Which in a room with mighty cords were tied,
And long had there lain still unoccupied.
Then doth he set much sewell all about,
Encompassing the walls of all the towers:
And that no flame might quench the fire out,
He lightens all the wood-ingraued bowers,
Which joined to the wall full fair and stout,
And perished quickly built in many hours;
While he and she in dawning of the day,
Mounted aloft and parted thence away.
The fuming vapors mount unto the sky,
Where turned into tear-distilling rain,
They mourn their masters helpless misery,
Returning to the former seat again:
But viewing there the spoils of injury,
In trickling streams they mourn his torturing pain,
While raging
Phoebus
wrapped in duskie clouds,
Angry with fates his mantled visage shrowdes.
CANT. 2.
Viceina
wanders all forlorn,
In midst darkness of the night:
But at the rising of the morne,
She meets the wicked lustful knight;
Whom once well known she defies,
Hating those sensual vanities.
THus reigns deep sacrilege and wicked arms,
Yspent in persecuting virtuous souls:
The fire is quenched, which with his vigor warms
Distressed hearts, now truth doth hide in hoales,
Afraid of falsehoods terrifying alarms,
Whose envious force her sweetest rest controules:
Justice from out the gored earth is flown,
And left her virtues offspring all alone.
From which poor stock this sweet
Viceina
bred,
Wanders unhappy virgin all forlorn,
Foule cares do deadly wrack that blessed head,
Whose brain in streaming tears is much forworne,
For pity that her steps are so misled
In blackest night, and cannot see the morne:
Yet still she hopes on that sweet Sun of light,
Which leads her soul in all this earthly night.
At length the Mornings chariot climbd aloft,
Bringing sweet comfort to this pilgrim maid,
The grateful light which she so long had sought,
To guide her errant footsteps far astrayd,
When viewing whither now her feet were brought,
Her sighing heart was drerily dismayd,
And sorrow surrow'd her sweet countenance,
With black remembrance of her sad mischance.
Yet still she moves in vnaccustom'd pace,
And means to try fatal misfortunes worst,
Plunged in various thoughts distorting case,
And tortured thus by envy most accurst,
At last she spide a Deere that fled apace,
Whose bleeding side a piercing dart had burst,
And fled and ran, and as he ran and fled,
Moued with grief down trickling tears he shed.
When follows on a lusty courser set,
A goodly knight (as seemed) and fair of look,
That strives in swiftest course his game to get:
But quickly all his game and course forsook,
When once he saw, then dear a dearer let,
And to this Pilgrim back his journey took,
And from his horse dismounted to the ground,
Comforts her with his words alluring sound.
And then her state he curious doth inquire,
Asking the cause of her distressed plight,
When she Sir knight replide, let me desire,
Not to torment an over-tired wight,
With new memorial of her fates so dire,
Rubbing my soul with a fresh tragick sight,
Only (fair sir) help this my poor estate,
And I your service ever will awaite.
Moued with pity much, but more with lust,
He dared not countermand her sad demands,
But from his heart with pleasures flames combust,
Vollied these words scarce shut in virtues bands:
Come (sayre) and to my gentle mercy trust,
And yield thy body to my embracing hands,
I will lead thee where in pleasure thou shalt dwell,
Remoued from black melancholies hell.
Viceina
whose most pure milk-washed heart
Never supposde what fraud before did plot,
Told him to ease her souls tormenting smart,
And that she thought such look maintained not
Foule knighthoods shame, to work her sorrows part,
Agreed to take her offered fortunes lot:
Then hand in hand conioynd they forward went,
And in sweet talk their tedious ways they spent.
Foule evil on his cursed heart alight,
For thus seducing thence the virgins feet,
For this same knight
Philedonus
is hight,
And he to pleasure giu'n for men unmeet:
Yet fair he seemeth at the sudden sight,
Yet soul he is at last when men him weete;
Under a pleasing hew and civil hood,
He carries poison'd baits and venom'd food.
With which sly crafts and flatteries deceiu'd,
Unto his castel she agrees to go;
Where coming they full fairly were received
Of one
Makerus,
who down binding low,
Told her that happily she was arriu'd,
And many grateful speeches did bestow:
At last unto a stately hall he brought her,
Glad that within his limits he had caught her.
Foule wight he was that at his masters gate,
Which open stood upon a beaten way,
All comers passage careful did awaite,
And when he spide them like a cock at day,
He lifting up his ugly carrion pate,
To trap them with sweet music doth assay:
For he an Eunuch is, and sweetly sings,
And to their ears deep rauishment he brings.
But hoping now that this new guest is sure,
Prepares no prologue for his Comedy,
And as already taught to know the lure,
He leads her to a lodging by and by:
But as they past, sights did her eyes allure,
Her eyes, but not her heart to vanity:
For she full wary was what ere she did,
Resisting still to what delight did bid.
But this that now her careless eyes did view,
Was how within the spacious built hall,
She saw fair youths and maidens in a rew,
Treading sweet measures at the musicks call,
And then anon as fetching forces new,
Into each others arms they kissing fall:
Where quenching pleasures thirst with beauties dew,
Their wonted dancing they again renew.
But turning quickly thence her loathing eyes,
She follows where her wicked captain guides,
Who nimbly moved with hellish pleasure flies,
And at the last into a lodging slides,
Whose fairer richest art cannot devise,
Nor ever can be found in earth besides:
Where placed for a while
Makerus
left her,
While joyful thoughts by sorrow are berest her.
And she detesting this unseemly place,
Wisheth that rather she had died abroad,
Then ever seen this knights deceiving face,
And thinks how she might shorten her abode:
But here of force she must abide a space,
So quickly she can never rid her load;
Which keeps her blessed heart in languor pinde,
Because no way to scape her soul can find.
And in that fit the night approaching nye,
Unto her bed which there was fair prepared,
As wanting rest she presently doth hye,
But following cares her sweetest rest debarred,
That she in these great woes was near to die:
And certes like it was she ill had far'd,
Had not the heau'ns foreseen and sent their aid,
To comfort weakened heart well-nigh dismayd.
For when her fathers house in pleasure stood,
And in the pleasant fields adioynd she went,
There came a holy Hermit from the wood,
That all his time in godly precepts spent,
Who as he told of words and doings good,
His chain of beads about his arm vnbent,
And said; this stone doth cares and grief expel,
And gave it to her and then bad fare-well.
This stone is Elpine calde, whose virtue is,
To drive away great grieuings and despair:
Or what-soere doth lead the heart amiss,
With sweetest influence it doth repair,
Which now applied reduc'th her former bliss,
And much diminisheth her cruel care:
Blest be the heavens which did thus provide,
To ease those tortures which she did abide.
Thus somewhat freede from these tormenting woes,
To sleep her senses all she doth address,
But ere her wearied members took repose,
She was disturbed from her quietness:
For to her chamber up a consort goes,
That thought to comfort her all comfortless,
And rather to enchant then to delight,
They thought, but now they want their wonted might.
And yet well near these fiends had luld asleep,
With charming Music that diuinest wight,
But that strong virtue still sure watch did keep,
And put sond pleasures yielding thoughts to flight:
For she still marking how delight did creep,
And by allurements, not by force did fight,
Stopt with her fingers her imprisond ears,
And with stout courage all temptations bears.
At length these Crocodiles their harping ended,
And she is left to prosecute her grief:
For rest is banished thence by thoughts offended,
Which do accuse her for this nights relief,
And cruciate themselves that condescended,
To feigned words without some further priefe;
That twixt her thoughts and guilts fierce perturbation,
Her soul is cast into a wrestles passion.
That little sleep she took, but when she slept,
Dreams of her fault and feigned phantasies,
Into the closet of her sweet soul crept:
And thus the night deludes her watching eyes,
Care all the gates of troubled senses kept,
Which made her think it long ere day did rise:
So vice and virtue strive together met,
They cannot rest within one cabinet.
At length though long this length the morning star,
Told that the night was fled from out the air,
When she more glad then trauailers that far.
Spying some to wer their fainting course repair,
Thinking that there their longed dwellings are:
But when they nearer come again despair,
And seeing they mis-took that happy place,
Stumble again in their fore-wonted pace.
So was she caught with hopes disguisde attire,
When black despair went masking all within:
For now she saw no hope of her desire,
Nor could she free her self once closed in:
So many eyes hath lust, so hot the fire,
Which kindles burning flames in scorched skin:
Though
Argus
hundred eyes in watch doth keep,
Yet lust at length will lull them all asleep.
So is she watched with never resting eyes;
The former hope of liberty is gone,
And now
Philedonus
doth all devise,
For to entangle her thus left alone;
Foule lust within his breast gins to arise,
And from his heart fair blushing shame is flown:
And he begins with words sole-tempting sound,
To cast her chastity unto the ground.
But by the happy fortune which befell,
At last her soul was set at liberty:
But how it chanced yet I may not tell,
Though I am loath so long to let thee lie,
(Sweet maid) within the torments of this hell:
But that same thief so fast away doth fly,
That I shall never see
Erona
more,
Vnles I go and fetch her back before.
CANT. 3.
Erona
and her new found love,
Come to the bower of fond delight:
But thence by warning they remove.
And in a Castle spent the night:
In morne she faines dissembled pain,
He leaves her and goes back again.
WHat ere thou be that to a woman's care,
Commitst affairs or matters of import,
Too rashly to adventure do not dare,
Vnles upon some certain truths report;
For constancy in most is found but rare,
And they will change their thoughts for wanton sport:
But some there be (blest he that some can find)
To whom fair graces virtue hath assignde.
Amongst which thou rare virgin of these days,
(Whom only this my wandering muse hath found)
Meritst eternal volumes of thy praise,
For loving Muses and their sweetest found,
Accepting kindly rude mis-tuned lays,
Which else had lain long buried under ground:
Be not (kind) angry at this mayds disgrace,
That Muse thy gifts shall praise, that doth her faults deface.
For she is worthy of perpetual blame,
For condiscending to this thieves request:
For now she curseth still her masters name,
Swearing she never could obtain her rest,
Until this happy news unto her came:
And now she says she'le follow his behest,
Go where he will, and stay where he commands,
And lay her opend soul before his hands.
And he seduced by her flattery,
And blinded quite with lust and lewd desire,
His love is bounded by no mean degree,
He swears through freezing cold and burning fire,
To be her champion for her beauties see,
She says she ready is when he will try her:
Thus in fond pleasure they consume their days,
And after sport still walk their wonted ways.
But as they climbd the hills ascending side,
The scortching Sun sent down fire-darting rays,
That they vnneath this seruence could abide,
Therefore they seek some cooler shado wed ways:
At last down in the vale a lake they spide,
By which there was a bower of thorn and bayes,
A bower whose ground was set with Cammomill,
Whose banks the sweetest rose and flowers did fill.
Where entered there they see a graven stone,
In which a history was fairly writ:
The picture of a Lady was upon,
And verses which were written under it."
Here lies the fairest Lady of the I will,"
Whom from sweet rest fond pleasure did exile,"
To warn the rest, who yet are kept vnstaind,"
To fly that plague, which keeps the soul enchaind."
The these enamor'd on that lovely hew,
Which niggard arts weak force had much defaced,
Would needs the substance of that shadow view,
And would the curious tombstone have displac'd:
But from this deed a noise his fancy drew,
And rushing of the lake as with a blast:
Where looking there they saw the fairest face,
Whose lovely feature did the Swannes disgrace.
But by the pictures likeness straight they knew,
This was the Ghost of that entombed maid,
When she: O cause not wretch more grief to rew,
And trouble not the bones for rest up laid,
But fly this place least it procure to you,
For which my soul deer punishment hath paid.
When seemed her head to droupe as in a sown,
And with new racking grief to sink adowne.
But straight he cried: O tell (sweet Lady) tell,
What danger doth attend this fearful place,
And how to thee this wicked hap befell,
And how thou camest into this woeful case?
Then she: as long as messengers of hell,
Which still attending stand before my face,
Shall suffer me to stay with you above,
I will show you what with grief myself did prove.
Here by this river is a gaping pit,
Which leads unto the floods of
Acheron
:
And on the mouth thereof a witch doth sit,
That dwelleth in a room there built upon;
Getica
she is calde, who by her wit,
Hath damned to wrestles dolours many one:
And she (before
Persephone
was Queen)
Had
Plutoes
Concubine long season been.
But now to her this dwelling is assignde,
Where she hath leave to charm each truest heart,
And in eternal torturing to bind,
The souls she hath entrapped by her art;
And she enraged, that men sweet joy should find,
Not bearing any of her torments part,
Assayes by all the means she can invent,
To make them fellows in her punishment.
And every year once she a feast doth make,
Within that bower, where you now do lie:
Whither full many a knight his way doth take,
And many a Lady thitherward doth hye:
When she her loathed house doth soon forsake,
Attir'd in robes and portly majesty,
And to the banquet house doth solemn come,
Welcomming all with voice, and kissing some.
And after meat a service all of wine,
Is brought before the guests, when thus she says;
My wish (sweet friends) is you should better dine,
And have some cheer that were more worthy praise:
But this I hope shall rest as loves sure sign,
The rest shall be supplied in other ways:
Only the while take this in gentle part,
From one desiring to get more desert.
Here are as many cups as you are here,
Fild with some liquor of so forciue might,
That what-soere you love or hold most deer,
As beauty, magic, riches, pleasing sight,
Or lengthened youth, until full forty year,
Whither it good shall be, or things vnright,
It shall be given you without delay,
Ere second night drive hence the darkened day.
On this condition that when all the date,
(Which is the space of forty years ore past)
Shall be expirde, then shall you pay the rate
Of all th'accounts, which I this while shall cast;
Nor may ye then resist the common fate,
For joy long may endure, not ever last:
This said, all those that wish for any good,
Drink up that Philter poisoning all their blood,
Amongst those birds was I caught in the net,
Layd to entrap the frayiltie of youth,
And at a little price my soul did set,
Now all bedewd into late coming ruth,
And I admonish you vnchaind as yet,
To credit what my soul doth find for truth:
Make speedy haste to get yourselves away,
Tomorrow comes that hellish banquet day.
This said, she sunk into the drowning waves,
Drowned almost with flowing tears before,
Like
Phaetusa,
while she madly raues,
Playning that she could see the boy no more:
And while his sweetest company she craves,
A spreading root her feeble feet vpbore,
A surrow'd rind encompassed all her skin,
A tree she was without, a maid within.
So doth she seem to melt in liquid tears,
For where before that sayrest substance stood,
Nothing but bubbling water now appears:
And while they look upon the billowing flood,
Wonder their eyes possess'th, their hearts deep fears,
That in their face appears no livelihood:
At last each plucking by the others arm,
Give warning both of that ensuing harm.
And mounted thence, they assay to climb the hill,
Whose bended steepnes causde them take much pain,
And though they mainly strive with labor still,
Yet in much striving they do little gain;
The nature of the place resists their will:
For so it is where pleasure doth remain,
That with a current in his arms we fall,
But back full few can creep, or none at all.
Nor can these now attain their minds desier,
But forced they turn their Palfreyes heads aside,
And sory they can climb the hill no higher,
Upon the conuex, all along they ride,
At last by smokie sparkles of a fire,
A chimney top far off they have espyde:
And now the Sun was driving to the west,
And they were glad they found some hope of rest.
Forward they pricked, and shortly there they came,
For all the way was plain as eye might see,
And lighting down he and his wanton dame,
Go in to know if they might lodged be,
And he no sooner had discried his name,
But all the knights salute him by degree:
For all the house with knights and dames was fraught,
Which meant to travel for their mornings draught.
Reioycing thus that they so fit were met,
And striving who should show most curtesy,
They spend the time till on the bord was set,
The daintyest feast that ever curious eye
Could view, or wealth, or all the I will could get,
Such was this feast of filthy luxury,
And they as prompt to take as that to bring,
Sit down: some eat, some drink, some play, some sing.
Their heads persuaded by the suming wine,
After the empty dishes all were sacked,
Do condescend their places to resign,
And yield to sleep, which as it seemed they lackt;
For so the sum their ey-lids doth combine,
That they vnneath can keep themselves awakt,
And still the ground as prosring them a bed,
With a kind knocking kiss salutes their head.
At last some by the little remnant of their fight,
And some by others help to bed are got,
Where drownd in sleep they spend the sliding night,
And had almost in morne their care forgot:
But wickedness that ever-haunting spright,
Rung in their ears and warned them of their lot:
And they afraid their happy chance to lose,
Shooke sluggard sleep away and straight arose.
But false
Erona
fearing of her mate,
That if he should unto the banquet go,
He would forsake his choice, and change his fate,
And leave her quite, and so procure her woe,
Faines that a sudden grief doth her amate,
Wounded with piereing sickness
Ebon
bow,
And says she cannot move from out her bed,
And prays him not to leave her almost dead.
Sweet love (quoth she) whom in my tender arms,
So oft I have embraced and ever loved,
O leave me not alone to following harms,
But if that ere thy mind fair
Many
moved,
Or yielded to delights, or fancies charms,
Or if my soul doth love thee ever prou'd,
Then do: and with that word so deeply sighit,
As though death on her brokenheart did light.
He thinking that her griefs extremity
Did interrupt the office of her tung,
And moved with her words did seem to pity,
When falling down upon her neck he hung,
And says, if my delaying could acquit ye
From this sharp grievance, that your heart hath stung,
I would not leave you for the worlds wealth,
Nor work disparagement unto your health.
But this delay can work you no redress,
But hurt me with the sight of this your pain,
And all the other knights themselves address,
To go unto the feast where I would fain
Accompany them, as my oth express
Doth bind me, but I will return again,
Before the sun remove his fiery wheels,
Turning unto our view his panting Palfreyes heels.
This said, he went from out her burning sight,
Stopping his ears unto her playning cries,
And she still prays to pity woeful wight,
But like the faithless Troian Knight he flies,
Leauing sweet
Dido
swelling in despite,
Who pouring raging playnts self-wounded dies.
So is this Knight from out her hearing gone,
And she can only hope he comes anon.
But how he sped, and she was left alone,
The sequence of the story shall declare,
But sweet
Viceina
doth so deeply groan,
Burdened with ouerpressing load of care,
That sure my heart relents to hear her mone,
And I will assay to cause her better fare,
For what hard heart would not all service do,
To help a sayre, a chaste, a woman too?
CANT. 4.
A stranger knight the maid doth free,
Which long had layne in pleasures bands:
While she her foemans death doth see,
Loosde by good fate from cursed hands,
And with that knight her way doth take,
Glad that foul prison to forsake.
THough deep distress still threaten heavy fall,
And stormy clouds thy fortunes wrack presage,
Let not white-liver'd fear thy thoughts appall,
A power there is that can all storms asswage,
That makes the thunder bellow at his call,
And parbreake sulphur vapors in his rage:
This power is present still to aid the just,
Though hembde in hosts they be of hellish lust.
So is the virgin here preseru'd from shame,
Which like a blood hound haunts her hallowed feet,
For since unto this shameless knight she came;
She cannot turn but still he doth her meet,
Tempting her soul to yield to foulest shame,
With fairest words that Pandors art did weete;
But still she keeps her bulwark of defense,
Hoping some happy day will rid her hence.
But long she watchit to see that happy day,
Before misfortune left her tyranny,
The sliding glass of time doth spend away,
And there with all her wasting hope doth fly,
But he that in just weights doth all things way;
Viewing the poor oppressed with cruelty,
Sent means whose thought dispayring thoughts did pas,
To help that dying Saint: And thus it was.
Sobrinus
fame through all the I will was blown,
(For he was borne of royal pedigree)
And his fair daughters name to all was known,
That holy were and hated vanity,
Amongst the rest her virtuous praise was flown,
Unto a Lady of no mean degree,
Whose spotles heart was pureness purest pure,
Whose soul no sensual thoughts could ere allure.
Aguria
was this holy widows name,
For she had laid her husband in the grave,
And since like Ancres, or a Vestal dame,
To heavenly thoughts her mind she wholly gave:
But her sweet son a jolly knight became,
Great thoughts to try his valiance him drave,
And he was meek to those that hated ill,
But to the wicked he was fearful still.
This knight was moved by this damsels fame,
And with his mothers leave departed thence,
Vowing by heavens-makers fearful name,
As long as life should stay, or lively sense,
Not ever to return from whence he came,
Before (as sign of his benevolence)
He shall salute this Lady face to face,
And with his arms that Saint-like Nymph embrace.
Thus purposde forth he goes, as errant knight,
In glistering arms yclad and mighty lance,
While under him in trappings gorgeous dight,
A sturdy courser all the way doth dance,
And as compacted of a lively spright,
His trampling hoofs aloft he doth advance,
And for adventures armed in warlike wise,
He pricks his palsreys sides and forward tries.
But what great dangers in his weary way,
Or what he saw or did, my Muse must pass,
For they would much my stories course delay:
Besides they are ingrau'd in during brass,
By one who doth antiquity bewray,
Writing what ever in that Island was:
Let this suffice that he now journeys nye,
Unto that place whereas this Dame doth lie.
But Night had spread her gloomy wings abroad,
Which forced thoughts of ease into his breast:
Therefore with swifter pace he faster road,
Hoping to get some place of gentle rest:
But while an easy gale unto him blowd,
The sweetest sound that ever ear possessed,
Which made him turn his horse toward the noise,
At last he came where he had heard the voice.
And asked if lodging for a Knight there were,
Quoth he that sung, straight leaping from his seat,
None can approach (fair Sir) more welcome here,
Then those that errant are, whom knightly hear
Enforc'th to seek adventures far and near:
And with this filed speech did work deceit,
The Knight full glad he had a harbor found,
Dismounted straight and lighted to the ground.
But little did he think that fairest maid,
Was prisoner in this cell of riotise:
For this same castle where he now is stayed,
Is that where poor
Viceina
captive lies,
And sure they thought to have this Knight betrayd,
But his sweet thought did frustrate their surmise:
Yet in this foolish hope up was he led,
Into a chamber fairly Arrased.
Where after delicates and curious feast,
Full weary of his way and toilsome watch,
To pleasing sleep his body he addrest,
Least during labor should him overmatch:
When he no sooner settled him to rest,
But slumber in his senses seat did hatch,
Partly by toil wherewith he now was sore,
Partly by Music sounding at his door.
Thus half her light fair
Cynthia
had spent,
And he in sleep had spent half
Cynthias
light,
Until a cry unto his ear was sent,
Which did his tumbling senses all affright,
It seemed to come from heart in peecesrent,
The woeful offspring of a wretched wight:
But thus the plaint was formed in doleful sort,
Carrying unto his ears a sad report.
Haples
Viceina,
whom thy father lost,
Ynough tormented not, though dearly loved,
Nor sad remembrance of thy mothers ghost,
Though she to tears mine eyes hath often moved,
Nor thine own harm which grieveth others most,
Ynough thy hearts great patience hath prou'd:
But here dispoyld of sweet virginity,
Thy spotted soul in ugly sin shall die.
But rather let the consort of dread Night,
(Which sing sad notes before her chariot,
When she in progress rides to chase the light)
Fear me before I take Sins filthy blot,
The scriching Owl race out my loathed sight,
Before it see that sight of wretched lot;
The ravens of darkness take my corse for pray,
That they may hide it from the blushing day.
And to those ghastly shades which haunt my soul,
And to the Night consenting to this ill,
My latest testament I will vnroule,
The dreery sum of my death-graven will,
They shall my servants be my bell to toule,
To ring the doleful accents of my knill,
Death be the head, and Shame shall be the next,
Then Night, and Guilt which holds my heart perplexed.
These on their damned backs shall bear my corse,
Unto the funeral which is prepared,
My soul provide thyself against remorse,
From hope of better death thou art debarred;
For Sin still threatens his ungentle force,
To wound thee deeply which had else been spared:
But till death come take solace in the Night,
For darkened soul there fits no better light.
This said, a bitter sigh euapour'd out
The sad conclusion of a sadder tale,
When gan the Knight his thoughts to stir about,
Pondring what wight thus lay in sorry bale:
But while he wauered in uncertain doubt,
He soon unto his troubled mind did call,
How that maid had her self
Viceina
hight,
Wherewith he gan to burst with raging spite.
As
Tereus
in the banquet of his son,
When he a while his hungry womb had fed,
Knowing the bloody mischief that was done,
And that he ate him whom before he bred,
Into a headlong rage along did run,
And curs'th the living execrates the dead,
In such a fury was this knight distraught,
With thoughts of blood and vengeance fully fraught.
But well he could his raging senses tame,
And thought this time was not so fit to get
The freedom of this soul-diseased dame;
The night and sudden noise his deed would let,
Therefore he rested till the morning came,
When to this act himself he ready set,
And watched to see the Lady of his love,
That from this fear he might her soul remove.
But he not long had sought the Lady fair,
Ere he had spide where as that lozell mate
Walkt with her in the garden for the air;
And he of lust and filthy sin did prate,
The Knight went straight unto that loving pair,
Not able longer to refrain his hate,
When she straight blusht to see her self alone,
Except this villain compani'd of none.
Then lightened with revenge thus gan the Knight;
Thou foulest shame of all that breath this air,
How darest thou to abuse this sacred wight,
Inclosing her in den of black despair?
Either defend thy deed in martial fight,
Or else here die, my mind can like no prayer:
Her champion I, and
Aidon
is my name,
Thou or thy kind that dare defend the same.
But straight he quailing sunk unto the ground,
For he of war before had never heard,
The name of death straight cast him in a swound,
His heart did pant, he was so much afeard,
The while Sir
Aidon
gave a deadly wound
Unto his heart, that all the ground besmeard
With filthy blood, his foulest pleasures price,
The nourishment of his ungodly vice.
His soul sunk down gnashing for furious mad,
That she should lose the pleasures of her bower,
Repining at the cursed fate she had,
Thus to be banished in vnlookt for hour:
This while the Knight unto that Lady sad,
Told why and whence he came, who thanked that power,
Whose providence prevented her mis-hap,
Sheelding her soul from deaths fierce thunderclap.
But thence departing to the hall they went,
Where mingled wanton troops of either kind,
Dallied together in their merriment,
He that most filthy is, he seems most kind:
The Knight could not refrain his discontent,
But drawing forth his sword, doth bid them find
Some fitter kind of mirth, or fitter place:
When all affrighted forth they fled apace.
All fled, he sets on fire those walls of lust,
Whose air infected was with filthy sent,
Down fall the walls consumed to fruitless dust,
With eating flames of firy force yspent,
While
Venus
wept to see her fort combust,
And those foundations from the bottom rent:
But that fair virgin with the errant Knight,
Left those foul dwellings, glad they met so right.
But look the Captain now had changed his face,
And out of knowledge he will shortly grow,
If that I do not follow him apace,
A gown he now hath got full hanging low:
But wonder not at this his changed case,
The hap which did befall, you straight shall know:
But let me breath a while, it needs no haste,
For yet I pant with chasing him so fast.
CANT. 5.
Th'enchanter on a plain doth lie,
And while he looketh all abroad,
He sees a Lady passing by,
To whom enforst with lust he r
•
de,
Fidamours
love and
Philarets
charge,
Phucerus
cruelty is told at large.
DEare soul, what ever wandrest here below,
Chaind in the sinful bodies sensual bands,
Yield not thyself to what doth fairest show,
Nor walking in these worldly
Nile
sands,
Give listening to the tunes that sweet do blow:
It is easy falling into pleasures hands,
But at dear rate he selleth all his ware,
The entrance pleaseth, but the end is care.
This hast thou found thou ever-damned ghost,
And payest dearly for thy merchandise,
Gnashing thy teeth in that infernal coast,
Rowling to banished heaven thy glowing eyes:
Now doth he curse what once did please him most,
Seeing his accounts to such a fumme to rise,
And in deep horror from his bowels cries,
To learn justice, nor the God's despise.
But all too late he moans his wicked deed,
Now was it time all evil to prevent,
Before foul sin had hatched his cursed seed,
Better he had his guts in famine spent,
Then with this feast his poisoned flesh to feed,
But what to do himself did not repent,
Shall not much grieve my warned mind to tell,
Better to hear then do what is not well.
After his faithless heart had her forsook,
That still ingeminates his hated name,
With the other knights he forth his journey took,
And to
Geticas
bower at length they came,
Where they inscrib'd their names in cursed book,
Incorporated in the city of defame,
The city which foul shame on earth hath built,
To trap men's souls in sins accusing guilt.
And everyone his sundry choice had gaind,
As each man's liking doth him most direct,
But wicked
B
•
nanallant
hath obtained,
To be of
Hecates
accursed sect,
Taught now to bold grim
Di
•
and Spirits chaind,
And plague the furies for his words neglect,
And foul
Meg
•••
at his kindled breast,
Will rack men's tortured souls in sad unrest.
No sooner doth he move his charmed wan,
But hell eructs foul Spirits which attend,
To work the will of this accursed man,
He can with deadly charms earths belly rend,
And with swift wings the sliding eyes fan,
Making stern
Pluto
at his words to bend,
One hour this Pole shall see his charmed wings,
And in the same he to th'Antartique: flings.
But now upon a fair plain he doth lie,
Harbourd within his charm-enchaunted wall,
Where on a tower he sees who passeth by,
Hoping at length some purchase will befall,
On whom to work his cursed witchery,
To which a sudden sight his sense doth call,
For a far off he sees a Lady bright,
That armed was and all arayd for fight.
Her face like
Phoebus
at the sudden rise,
Gaue such a glister in her beauties morne,
As made him hope some vnaccustom'd price,
And richer treasure then he saw beforne,
Therefore his cursed art he now applies,
Hoping he should this game away have borne;
And armed with infernal spirits might,
Thus he assayd to close this blessed wight.
Out from his cell he flies with greatest haste,
Like stormy
Notus
on his dewy plumes,
And from his castles sight he quite is past,
Where hid in charmed fogs and ch
•
unted fumes,
Like to a Snake his skin he off doth cast,
And feigned shape and form he now assumes,
Upon a hackney he is fairly set,
Whose sides his feet not stirropt staggring beat.
His hoary beard down snowing on his breast,
And swanny locks the chronicles of age,
Witness that elder years have him oppressed,
But that his sword doth tell that youthful rage,
Within his haughty heart is not deceast:
Thus doth he go as in a pilgrimage,
Even like
Silenus
now he doth appear,
But he a tankard▪ this a sword doth bear.
Thus doth he march toward that fairest d
•
me,
His horse scarce moving his untoward feet,
When as the Sun unto his lodging came,
And did no soones his fair
Thetis
greete,
But this
Tithonus
settled for his gain,
Did fairer far then fair
Aurora
meet,
And careless seemed he to pass aside,
But though his horse go'th forth, his heart doth back abide.
When she back turning her celestial spheres,
(In one of which sweet
Venus
darts her rays,
In the other
Mars
and warlike love appears)
Father (quoth she) know you how far awayes
Is fair
Doledra,
where
Phucerus
bears
The Diadem in these unhappy days?
Well do I know (quoth he) but tis so far,
You cannot there come by the light of star.
Then pointing to this witches charmed place,
(Quoth she) what Knight dwells in those goodly walls,
Or will he offer Lady this one grace▪
(Because the night me so untimely calls)
To entertain me for this little space?
And if at any time the like befalls,
Which may requite his gentle courtesy,
I will try to quite his great humanity.
Even like to
Jupiter
when once he brought,
That fair
Europa
on his back did sit,
Daunc'd through the flowery fields, glad he had caught
His game, applauding his successive wit:
So doth this carle at this good news, he sought,
And to the Lady thus his speech doth fit:
Well may you go, none are more welcome there,
Then those that for true cause do armor bear.
And to assure you here myself will lead,
Vnworthie loadstarre of so fair a Sun,
Unto that castle where I sure aread,
Not common kindne
•
to you will be done:
She hearkening to his speech the path doth tread,
Which to this labyrinth of shame doth run,
Where pleasing doub
•
••
th lead her to the center,
But these soul
〈◊〉
will her encounter.
But least long wonder might your thoughts possess,
Who was this Lady, and from whence she came,
And why here she her journey did address,
I will unfold the story of this Dame;
Strong love her bounden heart doth much oppress,
Which any thought of danger overcame:
Not many fights and perils do her move,
She counts them all but pleasures for her love.
Upon
Eumorphos
plains a castle stands,
Where dwelt an ancient and a comely Knight,
Which all the country bordering commands:
But that which greatest raisde his glories hight,
Was not his treasure, nor far stretched lands:
But three fair daughters, lights most brightest light,
Whose wondrous beauty lookers did amaze,
That in one heaven so many Suns did blaze.
Amongst these lookers, one there did surprise
An uncouth heat of undermining love,
Who knowing that stopped fire more hotly fries,
And with his own light doth his cloak remove,
Made known the Comet which withdrew his eyes,
And to his Lady did his passions prove:
She
Philaret
was calde, the eldest maid,
The Knight Sir
Fidamour
thus ill apayd.
With earnest suit an answer he hath gaind,
The golden shaft shot forth from
Cupids
bow,
That if the victory he have obtained,
In that adventure which this maid shall show,
His gentle proffers shall be entertaind,
And happy match between these loves shall grow▪
But if he do not, then all former band
Came back as free into the makers hand.
Down in the western coast there dwelt a king,
Phucerus
he is hight, his goodly seat,
Is calde
Doledra,
whose high towers do sing
Soft murmuring tunes, when winds then gently beat,
And loftio turrets mighty tops do bring,
Unto the skye which never saw so great,
That dared to look upon the starry skye,
And lift their masses in the air so hye.
Within this town a prophesy did pass,
That from
Eumorphos
should a maiden come,
Whose hand should change the kingdom whence it was,
Which made the king in private charge to some,
That whosoere could bring that countries lasse,
Unto th'appointed
Eumorphean
tomb,
He should be recompenc'd with liberal see,
Beside the grace in which he still should be.
Thus had he slain and tombde in bloody pit,
Many that guiltless came with no pretence,
And
Philaret
glad to be reuengde of it,
Enioynd the knight these deeds to recompense,
And to provoke them more he should him fit,
Woman's apparel which breeds more offense.
And thus with spear and targe he forth should go,
To be revenged on his wicked foe.
Forth is he gone (the gods him prosper fair)
And to this castle is this journey spent,
Where I must leave him to his fortunes fare,
But still imagine that he forward went,
For strongest love imprints a deepest care,
That nothing can withdraw his hearts intent;
But let him go as fast as love him drives,
I will overtake him ere he home ariue
•
.
CANT. 6.
Eronaes
craft and filed tung,
And pleasing look and flattring face,
Deogines
his heart hath stung;
Aidon
doth find in woeful case,
His mother kept in bondage chain,
In whose defense himself is slain.
THou sacred Muse which with thy silver spring,
A little sprinklest my scarce-moistened brow,
Help me in ampler field my verse to bring,
These deeds do grow to larger number now,
Nor can this little pipe them fully sing,
Therefore my limits with my song must grow:
The diverse webs are now so diverse spun,
They cannot end so near as they begun.
Whither defiled souls thus run ye mad?
Wallowing in filthy shames sink most obscene:
What? see you not how
Adrastea
sad,
With iron whips inflicting hellish peine,
Still houereth over, marking what is bad,
And like
Celaeno
clasps her wings unclean,
For joy that she a subject fit hath found,
On whom revengement deeply may rebound.
This is
Erona
had considered than,
When she first yielded her to sins delight,
And drawn her feet again when she began,
This sorrow had not vext her troubled spright,
Now desolate left off that cursed man:
But since none other way is found in sight,
Unto her wonted art she runs again,
And modesty in poisoned heart doth fain.
After the castle was left desolate,
And all betook them to that wicked way,
Faine would she after go but tis too late,
So shall her sleights appear as bright as day,
Therefore she doth invent all desperate,
This path or none for helping to assay,
All clad in black like mourning for the dead,
Or Pilgrim that is all disquieted.
A hood of black upon her head she wore,
Which fought against the Sun her form to shield,
And on her back a mourning gown she bore,
Which loosely flagging swept the verdant field,
And at her breast a book there hung before,
Whose back nor painting clad nor gold did guild;
But black it was without and so within,
Only the letters white in all were seen.
Thus is the Ancres gone to seek her fate,
Clad in the clouds of sorrow and despair,
Which to eclipse these rays which shinde of late;
Yet in this battle of her bewties fair,
Opposde to black this white supports more state,
Which little teary dimples do repair;
So that or now, or never so divine,
Doth this fair
Cynthia
at her fullest shine.
So long she had the playnes and valleys trasit,
That
Phoebus
gallopt down the western hill,
Seeing his fiery torches so to wast,
And she then hoping for no lesser ill,
Then in some outcast harbor far displasit,
To lie, while night keeps all in silent still;
Goes forward seeking for some shady place,
To hide her from the view of men's disgrace.
But see an aged man this way doth ride,
Upon a lusty Palfrey fayrely set,
Who though his hairs in ages grain are dyde,
Proues that his heart the mastery doth get,
And that some heat within his breast doth bide,
Not full remou'd from out his wonted seat,
Even to this damsel is he come at last
Whence fiery darts into his eyes are cast.
Sometimes he looks, yet straight looks back again,
Sorry his heart should be captiu'd with love,
Sometimes he views yet not to view doth fain,
He fix'th his eyes, yet straight he doth remove,
His thoughts be gone, yet thoughts he would restrain,
Which battle in his flaming breast doth prove:
That though he fight and strive with his desire,
Dry sticks must needs consume once put to fire.
Faine would he pass, but burning love denies,
And makes him see he strives against his heart,
Therefore this medicine he now applies,
And hopes to win his love by loves desert,
He doth inquire which way her journey lies,
And if her business binds not to depart:
Even near (quoth he) my castle fair doth stand,
Which shall be ready at thy sweet command.
She then replies a pilgrim maid I am,
And sins deep spot far buried in my breast,
Tells me I never can clean purge the same,
Except I banish quite the bodies rest,
Which still provokes the soul to endless shame,
But for this profer and your kind request,
One night with you fair friend I may remain,
So in the morne I shall return again.
Even as the baited hook in Thamis waves,
Floteth along and swimmeth fast away,
As if no gainful hindrance he craves,
And when the fish his guileful course doth stay,
Playing a while his tangled life he saves,
But at the last he takes him for a pray:
So doth this maid seem careless for her gain,
But he shall feel her craft to greater pain.
This Knight now widow'd had a comely wife,
Whose fayrenes with his fierceness badly met,
The chastest Vestall lived no chaster life
Then did this Lady, yet he still did fret,
A strangers look would set them both at strife,
He thinks she doth her vowed love forget,
Which made her weary of her prison'd breath,
And with a sword her soul vnburdeneth.
Her ghost embrued in that crimson gore,
Still plains to
Rhadamant
with ceaseless cry,
For fierce revenge to make him once deplore,
That wrought her that accursed misery,
Who deeply moved, wild her weep no more,
And bad revenge unto the earth to fly:
Where he should get him still desired food,
Of cruel torments and new issuing blood.
Now hath he got this feigned penitent,
To play the pageant of his plotted ill,
Who though she seemeth inly to repent,
Yet sins
abyssus
there remaineth still,
The filthy dregs of shame whose noisome sent,
With poysened humors shall her lover fill:
But since his heart a wooing needs must go,
I will leave him to his wooing and his woe.
Now change thy Myrtle for a Cypress bow,
Put on thy mourning weeds, come mourn my Muse,
With Ebon die vailing thy smiling brow,
Loth would I tell it, yet I cannot choose,
And tis too late to help thy losses now,
Floods of my tears cannot thy joy reduce:
Ah good Sir
Aidon
whose untimely fate,
Makes me to mourn even fast by pleasures gate.
After this Knight returnde with victory,
Into the country where he first was borne,
It chanced as he did arrive full nigh
His castle, day was fled, and double horn
Of
Cynthia
gan advance their tops full hie,
When weariness their limbs had much for worn,
And the Suns scorching (now ore-passed heat)
With labor made their panting hearts to beat.
But now a Crystal well they have espide,
In whose clear streams beauties fair looking glass,
Phoebe,
when in her circuit she did ride,
Would joy to see the glory of her face,
Where they alight, and by the fountain side
Do lay them down upon the pleasant grass:
And while they hark how
Zephire
soft doth sing,
A murmur to their ears these words doth bring.
You goodly boughs of youth which proudly bear
Your climbing tops unto the smiling air,
Think how fierce winter shall your garments tear,
And with his storms ore-shadow all your fair,
The goodliest vesture which you ere shall wear,
Times aged feathers basely shall impayre,
Your joy the mornings smile, but sable night
Shall drown in sorrows floods your most delight.
The worlds great pride shall have a greater fall,
Vncertaine men have no possession sure,
He that is nearest death is best of all,
The lesser troubles hath he to endure,
He that doth sit attirde in princely pall,
Cannot the purchase of one day procure;
When our joys Sun from
Tethis
waves doth wade,
It is sign there was, and shall again be shade.
Therefore thou body which dost pine away,
Which age hath furrow'd with his iron plow,
Rejoice that thou shalt see that glorious day,
Whose bright Suns Chariot shall not downward bow,
But lighten beams which black night doth obey,
So chainde she never can from darkness glow;
And while thou drawest this thy fainting breath,
Weep for to wash thy sins, not for thy death.
This mournful voice with hoarce and hollow sound,
Sayled full gently to their listening ears,
Whose noise that did from out the cave rebound,
Brought to their stonied hearts affrighting fears,
At last by earnest thought the Knight hath found,
What wracked wight this doleful music bears;
And knew that this his mother dear had been,
Grieuing her woe, and not her self is seen.
Distracted quight about the place he goes,
Like
Bacchus
priests whom holy
Thyrse
had raught,
But now the sound with crying he doth lose,
And with the sound the place so much he saught,
But then he thinks some wicked foreign foes,
His castle have and her both captive caught:
Therefore unto the Castle he doth fly,
As one intranced in an ecstacy.
He fiercely knocks against the castle gate,
He knocks again as fury doth him drive,
At last one comes, and cries who dares thus late
With troubling noise hither to ariue:
No sooner saw he him, but vrgde with hate,
(With which his passions do all vainly strive)
He with a mighty blow stroke at his head,
Thinking even then tohave sent his soul to bed.
The other voiding drew his fiery blade,
And here (quoth he) go to thy mothers ghost,
His mothers loved name such entry made,
As he for thought thereof gan faint almost,
In which deep trance he doth the Knight invade,
And stroke him deeply to the utmost cost:
Down falls the Knight as if he dead had been,
The other left him so and entered in.
After
Viceina
softly followeth,
At last she comes, where she doth weeping view
The mournful picture of ungentle death:
Nor doth she look upon his plight to rue,
But with a linen closely covereth
The wound, and doth a little life renew;
Where helped by the stopping of his blood,
He went with her unto a joining wood.
Yet knows he not how this ungentle deed
Was wrought, nor who abusde his mothers right;
It was a bloody man that did exceed
In furious wrath, each word would make him fight:
Yet mighty was he, and his happy speed
Causde him of any foes to make but light:
And still his jaws like smoky
Orcus
cave,
Would reeke forth oaths when he did curse and rave.
This furious
Aiax
when the drowsy night
Had covered all things with her pitchy veil,
Comes to this castle where he doth alight,
And cries for entry, but his cry doth fail:
Then swelling deep with rage and great despite,
The gates with violence he doth assail:
Which broken down, he takes the sleeping Nun,
And shuts her in a cave, and roules a stone upon.
But now good
Aidon
like the dying swan,
Knew that the time of death approached near:
Therefore to sing sweet tunes he now began,
The tunes which please the great Creators ear,
The cruel fates have burnt the lively bran,
With whose consuming breath and life doth wear
Cruel
Althea,
death rest of unrest,
Leauing the earth-worms carrying hence the best.
But as his eyes had almost rolde the last,
To him his mothers shadow doth appear,
Quoth she; rejoice thou soul worlds woe is past,
This burden now no longer shalt thou bear,
Our lives account in heavens book is cast,
Throw hence earths cloak, and follow me my dear:
This heard, he fix'th his standing eyes on hye,
His winged ghost to heavens bower doth fly.
As fair
Creusa
in consumed
Troy,
Fled from
Aeneas
lifted in the air,
Rauisht with heavens over-pleasing joy,
And left him crying in his loves despair,
Freed from these troubles and the worlds annoy,
So hath this ghost now set in starry chair,
Left her that with the shrilnes of her cry,
Pierced resisting air and stroke the sky.
The greatest woe that heart did ever bear,
With grisly tallants gripeth on her soul,
Sorrow her inward parts doth fiercely tear,
And in griefs cover doth her heart enroule,
And when the least relenting doth appear,
Then doth deaths visnomie her peace control:
The Sun of love hath set her heart on fire,
The smoke is sighs, the flame is her desire.
As when in open field a mounting flame,
Halfe-quenched with the clouds distilling rain,
Doubles anon his height, and with the same
Yeelds forth fresh vapors to the clouds again,
Till they ore-burdned send them whence they came,
Rebating so th'aspiring fire amaine:
So sighs and tears run still this weeping source,
And end themselves, but never end their course.
Strike rocky soul (quoth she) a teary shower,
From out the hollow of my stony breast,
And all thy moisture into rivers pour,
For him that did procure thy sweetest rest,
And melt in tears until thy latest hour,
Because thy dearest Deare is now deceast:
And on his tomb show that thou still doest mourn.
While thou thrice-blessed soul in happy peace,
Shalt sing sweet accents ravishing consent,
In tunes whose harmony shall never cease,
But still endure with thy still-during seat,
While nothing shall my heart from grief release,
Till with my woe my life shall be expleate:
Fayre days shall tell me of thy fairest hue,
And cloudy gloome shall bid me ever rue.
This said, a shade encompassed all the wood,
Her darkened sight abroad can nothing see:
So by
Lyrcaean
grove fair
Io
stood,
Enuellop'd with a shady Canopee,
While she thus masked in this pitchie hood,
Was forst the great gods concubine to be:
But at the last at once this cloudy night
Is chased by the Suns new rising light.
But where before that Sainted Temple lay,
Nothing appears and where the blood did stain,
The died grass, there now fair Roses stay,
The damaske colourd in a ruddy grain,
That blusheth at the rising of the day,
To see her beauty naked all remain:
And purple violets never growing right,
But seek to hide their form from common sight,
Thus is the Mother and her holy Son,
The truest types of chastity and shame,
Dead ere new offspring from their loins begun,
To propagate fair virtues sacred name:
Which is the reason that th'all-seeing Sun,
Seldom hath seen a chaste and spotles Dame:
Except
Eliza
that celestial wight,
And you whose tapers burn pure virgin-light.
But fair
Viceina
now doth walk alone,
Faine would I bring thee to some lodging place,
For courtesy denies to hear thee moan,
And thus to leave thee in this woeful case,
Forsaken and accompanide of none:
But take it not I pray thee for disgrace,
I see some riding here with might and main,
I will but examine them and come again.
CANT. 7.
Adonia
goes toavenge her Knight,
After her charming naught prevails:
Deogin
seeing
Erona
light,
Amidst the waves his chance bewails:
Erona
on the sea doth float,
Changed by a charm into a boat.
WHen in th'
Aegaeum
of thy wandering days,
Fortune full softly fills thy swelling sails,
Let no
Circaeas
hinder quite thy ways,
Nor let her cups against thy heart prevail,
Then virtue of thy spotted soul decays,
Blinded in worldly pleasures cloudy veil:
This pleasing draught shall so bewitch thy will,
Well mayst thou see the good, but do the ill.
Which doth appear in this most wretched wight,
Who after
Aidon
had their Captain slain,
Returneth to the dregs of fond delight,
Hoping tohave found their carpet knight again,
And bring her ancient customs new to light:
But as she sought him with incessant pain,
At last a mangled carcass she had spide,
With scarlet blood and filthy gore bedide.
As
Peleus
daughters, when they saw their sire
Vanisht from earth into a gastly shade,
Their raging thoughts wrapped up in furies gire,
Curst heaven and earth, and that life-loosing blade,
And then themselves which first the motion made:
So doth this furnace burning hellish flame,
Breath curses gainst great heau'ns fate-ruling name.
Foule fiends (quoth she) which gnash your fretting jaws,
Enuying at men's dying felicity,
Go, heeres a subject for your rending claws,
Ascend to heaven and raze his hateful eye,
That bloody Sun which with his influence draws
The tossed ship of life to misery:
With sulphur smoke darken each quenched star,
Which could behold this bloody act so far.
And on your Dragon backs lift
Neptune
hye,
Into the heavens with his watery train,
That down perpetual showers still may fly,
The fates ungentle power to complain:
Let earth decay, let all things earthly die,
Till with their moans my love return again:
Inuest thee here air-ouerspreading Night,
Now he is dead, all is none other light.
And take you vestures which black
Stixes
wave,
Seven times hath died in his sable flood,
And let each star a pitchy garment have,
And let these suits attire all heavens brood,
Where in a progress they shall mourning crave,
The dear renewing of this blessed blood,
And break the distaff of death-guiding fate,
Loosing the souls from out hell prison gate.
But look, the Sun sends down his smiling rays,
Laughing to scorn the sorrow of my heart,
Words cannot bring him to his sweetest days,
No power pities my tormenting smart:
Therefore I will try some soul-enchanting ways,
Whose might shall make the fates their doom reuart:
And since they move not with my mourning tears,
With deadly charms I will pierce their glowing ears.
Seven days she mournd about her dearest love,
The seventh night she wandered far away,
And all the sorts of lively herbs did prove,
Gathering the dew from leaves of springing bay,
And all the spices which might calour move,
And Serpents skin which summer last did lay:
Only she could not get a Deeres warm heart,
Whose want confounded all her charming art.
Now back she goes, when as the wakened Sun
Gathred his horses from the Western plain,
And softly up the Eastern mount did run,
When she unto her Knight returnde again,
Where, when in order all her charm was done,
She loos'th about her head her tressie train:
And laying in his mouth, and in his wound,
Her charm she runneth seven times around.
Then seven times these words she doth repeat,
By the great secrets which in
Memphis
lie,
And by the bloody waves which
Pharus
beat,
By three-formd
Hecates
great Deity,
By pitchy
Stixes
heaven-feared seat,
And by the labors of thy Lunacie:
Phoebe
recur'd by
Temesaean
brass,
I charge this soul to come where first it was.
This said, a Crystal glass she forth doth take,
Holding it right against the shining Sun,
That beams contracted might a fire make,
Whose smoke into a lively soul might run:
The charm is kindled and he seems to wake,
But wanting force the charm is straight undone:
She did but trouble his affrighted ghost,
Lacking the thing which help
Medea
most.
Now sits she down, all help and hope is gone,
Reuenge can only now his soul acquit:
Therefore on vengeance she doth think alone,
To be revenged on that holy Knight:
And as she plots she spies an armed one,
Ready prepared as seemed for bloody fight;
His lofty spear he doth advance on hie,
As though he menac'd war unto the sky.
This pecocke irond thus of every side,
A coward is unfit of manly spear,
Never in ought he hath his valor tried,
But is so faint and humble slave to fear,
That when the shadow of his lance he spide,
His fainting carcass downward gan to bear:
And if deaths thought had not him rousde away,
No doubt for famine he should there decay.
And now he went into this filthy land,
Where Knights but seldom vsde their prowess try,
And now the maid of him doth this demand,
That sharp revenge might quite this injury:
Then lifting out his vow confirming hand,
Lady (if this same caitiff hidden lie
Under the compass of this empty air)
This hand thy losses fully shall repair.
Out in
Tartaria
when a mighty host
Encompast me: but then bespoke the maid,
No further of thy deeds I pray thee boast,
Well do I trust thee for thy gentle aid,
Though he had never been in any coast,
Which in a new Meridian is laid:
But traversing the Island up and down,
Never did worthy deed in field nor town.
The maid up mounted led him in the way,
Which to Sir
Aidons
fort directly brought:
Where come by breaking of the blushing day,
He bid the maid stay back till he had fought,
The battle which her foes in dust should lay:
Which done, he very studious bethought,
How he the battle any way might fly,
Or if he fought, some place of flight espy.
Thus musing straight he sees the portall shut,
And hoping none were remanent within,
With spear he gave the gates a mighty butt,
And cries, what are you fled for fear your sin,
Reueng'd with death my hungry spear should glut?
Or of my coming have fore warned been?
Then forth
Tigranes
comes that furious Knight,
And cries, what peasant troubles my delight.
No harm (quoth he) forsooth an humble friend,
Come to congratulate your victory,
And here this captive maid a pledge do send,
Yeelding her to you with humility:
Let not I pray my boldness you offend,
But take this maid a pledge of fealty.
The Knight appeasde, them gently entertaind,
And they a place of rest have now obtained.
Now had
Viceina
past this bloody seat,
And wandered thorough way-less woods and dales,
When in a vale a cottage she hath met,
Wherein a Hermit still in prayer calls,
To cleanse his soul and wickedness forget,
Whose thought the thoughts of his sweet conscience galls:
Thus did he spend the day and watch the night,
Still listing up for grace his troubled spright.
Who seeing such a modest Lady by,
Told her if cottage might not be disdaind,
Nor herbal fare which in his house dothly,
Of him she gladly should be entertaind:
Who finding comfort of extremity,
Told him she gladly hath his lodging gaind:
Where we will leave them to their hearty prayer,
And old minds griefs with joy new to repair.
But see how fair
Erona
change'th her coat,
And taught the seigniour with a clearer breast,
To sing his tunes unto a higher note:
She that but one night in his house would rest,
Least wicked sin her holy soul should blot,
She thinks to tarie here is far the best:
And
Deogin
enamourd on her face,
With many sports hath made her like the place.
But he is come unto his wonted rate,
His eyes are ever glistering with fire,
He ever thinks she hath another mate,
And other loves do kindle her desire,
Which often causeth strife and great debate,
But she will gently quite her jealous sire:
And since he stumbles thus without a stone,
She means to give him rocks to fall one.
Even by this Castle
Neptune
once in love
Of a wood Nymph, did follow fast his game:
But she to fly his kisses mainly strove,
And to her woods of harbor flying came:
Neptune
enraged, his trident mace vphoue,
And mainly stroke the harbor of the Dame:
The earth gan melt, and trees consumed away,
Neptune
rusht in and caught the swimming Iay.
So now a lake it is, once firmest land,
And Knights much vsde to cross this watery way:
But once arriu'd a Knight unto the strand,
About the darkening of the conquerd day,
And at this castle lodging did demand:
The carle was loath, but threatenings did affray,
That in he goes into that burning gate,
The tragick actor of the churles fate.
When supper comes all do themselves address,
To saciate with food their natures need:
But this grim sir doth sit all supperlesse,
And on his gnawed guts apace doth feed,
And when he eats, he mindeth nothing less:
For on the Knight his eyes kept careful heed,
That sometimes when his meat he should devide,
The knife awry into his flesh doth slide.
Thus passeth forth the prologue of his woe,
But the next morne brings forth his tragedy:
For that same Knight his wife had handled so,
That in a chamber now they both do lie:
But still
Deogines
goes to and fro,
To see if he his loving mates can spy:
At last he sees the flame whose firy dart
Kindles the sulphur of his fueld heart.
About he runs and cries I burn I burn,
And in black famine all his bones doth spend:
At last unto the river he doth turn,
Thinking to give this flame a watery end:
But he so light is grown, each wave doth spurn,
And any way his sliding course doth bend:
At last fair sailing with a Northern blast,
This barebond feend on
Britain's
sands was cast.
But now
Erona
will her course betake,
As she was wont to lust and filthy shame;
A whirty on that river she doth make,
And she her self the passenger became,
Ferrying each knight upon that gulfie lake,
That condiscends unto her damned game:
The rest by cunning of her ioynted boat,
She lays in waves and makes ore bord to float.
For in two parts her boat she doth devide,
She in the first doth row, and that behind
With a sleight vise unto the first is tide,
Which with a pin she can both loose and bind:
Now while upon the waves they rowing slide,
If any Knight resist her filthy mind,
Then doth she loose her pin, he falleth down,
And drenching waves his haples carcass drown.
If he unto her dalliance do yield,
Then doth she pass him safely to the land,
And gently sets him on the other field:
And thus her days consumed like dustie sand,
Which
Boreas
to and fro with blasts doth wield,
And is not seen where it before did stand:
So doth her body so her soul consume,
Dide ugly black in sins still-reeking fume.
Nor doth her guilt escape vnpunisht quite;
For as it fell this way her Captain came,
Old
Bonauallant,
once her dear delight,
But now new-changed in another frame:
Who when she ferried, and with pleasing sight
Woo'd to agree to deeds of black defame:
He hearkened not to her vntam'd desire,
Which kindled in her breast revenges fire.
But he had spide how she with turning vice
Was loosing down the dead-fall of her hate,
And with a charm did cross her first device,
Giving her punished soul a new-found fate;
Into a boat her breast, her legs, her thighs
Are changed, and bound by charm for endless date:
That since she had delighted still to carry,
Here in eternal carriage she should tarry.
Her arms the oars do cut the fleeting sea,
And pass each traveler to the furtherd side:
Her face in which sweet beauty once did play,
The plowed waves in furrows doth devide:
So the Propaetides that common lay.
And passers violence did still abide,
Because their face no ruddy shame could print,
Were turned to a never blushing flint.
But let me quickly to
Doledra
fly,
Vnles I thither make the greater hast,
Fidamour
homeward doth so hasty hie,
That all the marriage will be over-past,
The feast and triumphs of his victory,
And tilts unto their latest day will wast:
But I will after on my thoughts swift wing,
And in triumphing tunes his trophees sing.
CANT. 8.
Fidamour
from th'Inchanter fled,
With fair
Doledraes
King doth fight:
She victor doth her foe behead,
And to
Eumorphos
takes her flight,
Where at the marriage suddenly,
Th'Inchanter down to bell doth fly.
AS when
Ioues
lightning on a tower doth fall,
No humor can allay his firy might,
But with his hungry jaws consumeth all,
On which his rending tallands can alight:
So doth this filthy flame unnatural,
Burn in this witches heart in hearts despite:
His thoughts like water in
Pyracm
•
ns
forge,
Make his fire-breathing throat more flames disgorge.
When in the castle all the night was spent,
In morne they hasted to depart away,
Which deeply wrought th'enchanters discontent,
And by these means doth seek their course delay:
He takes a potion from
Cocitus
sent,
Whose force in weakened heart deep love will lay:
This had he mingled in some fatal wine,
Hoping to make her heart in fury pine.
But
Epimel
her careful watching page,
(Which still about his mistress did attend)
Had spide the witches faithless carriage,
And quickly bad her on her steed ascend:
She kindled with disdain and mighty rage,
Unto
Doledra
now her course doth bend:
Where come, without in suburbs she doth stay,
And to
Phucerus
thence sends mortal fray.
The king that never thought in open fight,
He and his kingdom should be overthrown:
But that some maid would by her subtle slight,
Or other policy undermine his throne,
Went forth full fraught with rage and high despite:
And though his loves about him still did mone,
And curtizans about him ever cry,
The sad event of woeful flight to fly.
Yet he respected not their vain request,
But marched forth to meet this warlike Dame:
And at his sight she kindling in her breast,
The Pyramis of an ascending flame,
Straight open enmity to him professed,
And with well couched lance toward her came:
Their flashing spears that from their breasts rebound,
Made echo tell the horror of the sound.
The flinty flakes drop from the riuen plate,
And make the hollow earth from deep to groan,
Whose noise the trembling spirits did amate,
Fearing their covering would have fallen upon:
So angry
Jove
inflamed with ruthles hate,
Darts from the heau'ns a mighty thunderstone,
And in his rage from out a cloud doth roar,
That
Atlas
limbs do quake which heau'n vpbore.
But at the first encounter deeply fell
On
Fidamours
left side a heavy blow,
Which woeful news unto her heart did tell:
But at the next she him requited so,
His soul was wasted half the way to hell,
And made his conquerd corps her valor know:
Whom from his palfrey fayrely she vpheau'd,
And of the greeting earth a kiss received.
The feeble soul from out his breast was fled,
Wandering through gloomy ways of hellish shade,
While with her sword she martyreth his head:
The ensign which her victory displaide,
And with her loving page she homewards sped.
But what great joy this overthrow hath made,
Let them declare who do their love obtain,
This pleasure in my heart did near remain.
Go whistling winds with easy murmuring bring
This happy Lady to her hearts desire,
And all the way let sweetest music sing,
Melodious consent in love-carols by her,
And go my thoughts thorough sliding air fling,
And view the heat of her deep printed fire:
Burn not yourselves, nor come the flame too nigh,
Icarus
once drowned can teach you how to fly.
Thus in triumphing to
Eumorphos
brought,
All do applaud the fortune of his fight:
The ransom which they still before had sought,
To free them from
Phucorus
foul despite:
But sudden joy so much his Lady raught,
Her heart drew exhalations of delight,
Which kindled by her love enkindled flame
Unto her Knight, as darted Sunbeames came.
She gives him kisses, pledges of her heart,
Sweeter then
Jove
receives of
Ganymed,
While them between sweet Nectar down doth move,
The honey dew with which fair love is fed:
Such is the billing of the Cyprian dove,
Their mouths in others mouth emprisoned:
But she with talk loosing that rosiall bind,
Drew back her lips, but left her heart behind.
Now all things for the Marriage are prepared,
As when great
Perseus
married
Andromede,
No cost nor any ornament is spared,
With which the marriage may be beautifide:
No Knight nor commer is from hence debard,
To see the band which shall these lovers wed:
Shine bright sweet Sun, now comes that happy day,
That in the port these gladfull loves shall lay.
Now for that holy Hermit have they sent,
With whom
Viceina
all this while hath stayed,
Who both invited to
Eumorphos
went,
Where stands the Knight and that diuinest maid,
Ready to be conioynd with one consent:
The Hermit many holy prayers said,
While fair
Viceina
by the pair doth stand,
And holds a torch in her ambrosiall hand.
But
Bonauallant,
whom ny forty years
With foul
Geticas
date had near oppressed,
Thought ere he went to hurt these faithful pheares,
And with his charms to trouble holy rest:
But when this Hermits godly speech he hears,
His charms are frustrate and enchaunting ceased,
Thus in despite of envies stormy wrath,
These loves are settled in their quiets path.
Now all things for the tilting ready are,
And many Knights are gatherd from about,
And fierce
Tigranes
hitherward doth fare:
But poor
Anander
wraps a filthy clout
About his hand, and says this cloth he ware,
Because a wound hath peare'd his hand throughout:
But he received no wound in field nor fight,
This is his cowardice accustomed slight.
He with
Tigranes
comes unto the feast,
But says he cannot run for grievous pain:
Tigranes
doth believe the cowards jest,
And with him comes unto the tilting plain,
Where stood two Knights with ready spears in rest
To try who could most valours glory gain:
They run and fairly break each others spear,
And thoroughly pass as if no let there were.
After run many whose part youthful heat,
Drew to express the fire of their heart:
Others whom love taught in this warlike feat,
To prove before their Ladies loves desert:
As if in telling how their love was great,
They begged some easing of impatient smart,
Which with emprezaes they do fairly show,
Fitting their outward to their inward hew.
One hath a Salamander in the fire,
The word upon fair beauty is the flame:
The next a Linnet in a cage of wire,
The mot my prisond thoughts still sing the same,
To show the firmness of his chaste desire:
The third, small birds that to the fire came,
The saying there conioynd: my light my night,
To show he pines consumed with beauties light.
Thus most had tried their valor and their might,
And to
Anander
all are come anon,
Desiring him to do the Marriage right,
And that his fame and credit stood thereon,
To prove himself a stout and valiant knight,
And not in looking let the time be gone:
For they perceived not yet his cowardice,
Thoughts are not known certain by the eyes.
Anander
thus beset as bird of night,
Compast with smaller foul in time of day,
Began to rub his pulse and pluck his spright,
And closely pulls his winding cloth away,
(Quoth he) I stay not for I fear their fight,
For thousands by this right hand conquered lay.
But with my valiance to conclude the just,
A thing not ending well, is laid in dust.
Now is he on a gallant Palfrey plaste,
And ready to encounter with his foe:
The other Knight (good Knight too much debast
With coward braggart to encounter so)
Spurring with spear in rest toward him past,
But forth he empty to the ende doth go,
For good
Anander
meaneth harm to none,
But forth another way in haste is gone.
When first the Courser gan to lift his feet,
He shuts his locked eyes with all his might;
And with his spurs a main the horse doth greete:
The Palfray blindly driven and vnright,
Makes him unawares, with spear a wall to meet,
With whose rebut stands up the horse on hight,
Down on the earth his carcass doth rebound,
And laid his crauen comb along the ground.
The Knight enraged with his soul disgrace,
Tolde to
Tigranes
'twas no knightly part,
To bring such cowards and the iusts deface;
Who rending open earths disseuerd heart,
Catching pale
Stix
by her infected face,
(Quoth he) by
Erebs
wife no Knight thou art,
That doest impute his cowardice to me,
Which never before few days his face did see.
Then drawing out his not returning blade,
He thought at first his heart to dearly pay:
But well defended it no entry made;
The other with like load on him doth lay,
That each began to reel as ill apayde,
And each again doth straight renew the fray:
Their swords true scholars in this martial fight,
Answer each others arguments aright.
As
Vulcanes
servants in the
Lemnian
cave,
With wrestles blows do frame a thunderbolt,
Or hammering for
Jove
an iron clave,
With mighty terror shake their groaning holt,
So these fierce Knights, one at another drave,
Nor from their kindled fury will revolt:
But thundering each upon the others crests,
Write with their swords the raging of their breasts.
But loe a trumpet roars with hollow sound,
And deadly skreeches breath from out below:
Which do their cooled souls with fear astownd
To hear such dumpish notes so gastly blow:
But now the cause thereof they trembling sound,
Twere winged spirits which from
Orcus
flow,
Sent by the king of hell to apprehend
That charming thief, and cite him to his end.
Full forty years are past, while here he looks,
And careless views these warriors martial deeds,
But
Pluto
sees his name within his books,
And to the fiends his doom and judgment reeds,
Who breaking from the cloudy smoking nookes,
Whose breath the soul with during torment feeds,
Ceaze on his back, and gripe him with their claws,
And tears him with their iron-rancked jaws.
Out breathes he curses gainst the starry sky,
Tearing high
Jove
with his still-gnashing teeth,
And execrates all men's felicity:
Hating the light, and cursing all he seeth:
Thus banning in this furious ecstasy,
Unto the seat of damned souls he fleeth:
The wounded earth hells entralls doth vnshroude,
Down sinks his soul, maskt in a smoky cloud.
The ende of the first Book.
THVLE, Or Virtues History.
To the Honorable and virtuous Mistress AMY AVDELY. By F. R.
The second Book.
At London Printed by Felix Kingston, for Humfrey Lownes. 1598.
The Prologue unto the second Book.
THus far my lowly Muse in course array,
She wes the least riches of her treasury;
And in the plainer terms she doth assay,
To please the ears of popularity.
Now shall she tread one little step above,
For those whose itching ears are never filled:
But with the thunder of almighty
Jove,
And tales how Giants daring arms did wield.
Yet not so high, though higher then the rest,
Contents me in the Sea bear lowly sail,
With little bark, least canuas fittest best,
That can with lesser might gainst tide prevail.
But when to greater seats she shall aspire;
Then may she boldly sing great
Phlegraes
fire.
CANT. I.
The tyrant
Aimaran
oppres'th the just,
Whose miseries revenge doth soon acquit,
That basely lays his honor in the dust:
And curtains up his names obscured light,
While
Bdellaes
walls down to the earth are borne,
Whose haughty tops did kiss the sky beforue.
OF bloody gusts, and those vermilion swords,
Which dide themselves in Brothers broken hearts,
How swimming blood in streets made flowing fords,
And ruthful turmoyles rose in diverse parts
I mean to sing: That fury which affords
Sighs to the sad, and pearc'th with Ebon darts:
Come with thy snaky head engorde in blood,
Which while these things were done spectator stood:
Lift up black
Nemesis
thy glowing eyes,
With
Orcus
vapors overspread the light,
Let not the Sun from out his couch arise:
But let me write in dark these deeds of night,
Only that burning torch shall here suffice,
Whose wax is thickened blood around bedight:
About the sinew of a conquerd foe,
This gloomy light about my eyes shall gloe.
And roar thou from thy earth appaling iaw,
Put me in mind of dread and desolations,
Let uncouth sights keep down my thoughts in awe:
As burning blood in fiery exhalations,
And Ravens which a dying carcass draw,
While deadly screeches help to paint their passions,
While Harpyes, Owls, and Night-crows all around,
Flutting about me breath a gastly sound.
And thou death-boding Muse whose Tragic quill
Painteth each ruthful strata gem aright,
My pen with that same dreery water fill,
Whose dropping letters readers do afright,
Whither from
Stixes
streams it doth distill,
Or
Mare Rubrums
floods oreuaylde with night:
That this my Cronicle of woe and death,
May seem a dying souls last poured breath.
And thou Sedition still thyself present,
That every member right I may display,
And whisper words of woe and dreerement,
Sad notes of ruin and of black decay,
Help hatreds praise, and envies to invent,
And far expel the thought of love away,
While cruel discord thundering in mine ears,
Deepe drowns my heart in high-astounding fears.
Towards the North a goodly City lies,
Whose stately bowers wrought by
Daedale
hand:
Lay forth their curious riches to the eyes,
And make the passers to admire the land,
Arts chiefest beauty hence doth fair arise,
And once both fair and happy was this strand.
But now the renting earthquakes of debate,
Shake
Atlas
pillars which uphold the state.
This City
Bdella
calde, and he that rains,
Is
Aimaran,
the cruelst wight alive,
His soul doth leap to view his subjects pains:
And when his Taxers do great heaps contrive,
Of subjects riches, and extorted gains,
Then doth his soul into his port ariue,
Like ravens that on carcasses do feed,
And glut their corps full glad while others bleed.
But furious hate had with his egging sting,
Commou'd them to the feeling of their woe,
And straight the Commons fall a counsailing,
How they their heavy yoke might from them throw,
And in some bounds this bloody deluge bring,
Least it should shortly make an over-flow,
And drive this Waspe from out their honey-nest,
Before his tyranny consume the rest.
These murmuring conuents came to
Midas
ears,
(For what from Kings and Potentates are hid?)
But dismal horror in his heart appears,
An hundred gardians he about doth bid,
And parasites whose troop the State down tears,
Foule worms which never yet a crown could rid;
While he at rushing of each moved straw,
Thinks he an host of armed foemen saw.
The guilt of conscience doth his thoughts torment,
Fear is immured in his rented skin,
It seems here doth a ghost it self present,
And hovering ask where all his kinsfolks been,
There one who cries out blood and dreeriment,
And
Tisiphon
to plague him for his sin;
While horror in his ears deaths knill doth toule,
And deadly trembling graspeth on his soul.
It chanced this time that
Phoebus
wending down,
And breathles driving to his loved west,
Saw where in
Thetis
breasts softs-softest down,
Neptune
was taking his unlawful rest:
Phoebus
thereat was wroth and gan to frown,
And straight forswore his loves now lothed west,
Vowing with
Tellus
now should be his seat,
And she should feel the comfort of his heat.
Phoebus
then timely rose, and did embrace
Fayre
Tellus
with the vigor of his rays,
Who straight begun to spring and grow apace;
And hence it came that in these later days
We have our spring, when
Phoebus
glorious face
Begins to lengthen his protracted ways:
And still this time remembering her offense,
He makes on earth his greater residence.
These days were come, and
Phoebus
with his shine
Doth make the solacit earth her fruits to bring,
Whose sight refresheth men's foredaunted eyne,
While tuning birds their sweetest carrols sing,
And naked trees their vestures do refine,
Mou'd with this sight goes forth a solacing;
The lusty youth, and to his bonibell,
Each doth a lesson of the Summer tell.
Amongst the rest walks forth a forlorn wight,
Even like
Heraclitus,
from whose moist eyes,
Still-flowing tears notes of a grieved spright,
As welling fountains fruitfully arise,
His head as scorning heavens most delight,
Looking still downward on his shoulder lies,
As though his heart and troubled spirits have,
His joy intumulated in the grave.
Sometimes to heau'n he looks, and then he weeps
For her sweet soul that to her rest is fled;
Upon the air, and then his eyes he steepes
In flowing Oceans which by grief are bred;
Upon the earth, then in a trance he sleeps,
And slumbering sinketh down as carcass dead:
But then some sense doth him recall again,
In life to die and live in deadly pain.
But now a groan doth beat his hearkening ear,
And many tumblings issuing from below,
When straight he cries, O death thrice-welcome hear,
My years are ripe, come, down them gently mow,
Give end unto the woe my heart doth tear,
And sweetest ease upon my soul bestow:
With that he falls unto the loved ground,
While joys his drowned heart do deep astound.
But then the ghost replies, awake dear love,
No death, thy life and dearest wife I am,
Whom tyrants hand from thee did once remove,
Now do I come for to revenge the same,
Strike up thy senses (dear) thy valor prove:
And when to him the Lady nearer came,
She gave him armor which
Achilles
wore,
When
Hectors
side with hideous stroke he tore.
And says, here be the ransomes of my life,
That shall plead vengeance of the tyrants soul:
He at the name of his beloved wife,
Thrice 'ssayd within his arms her to enroule,
But thrice her flying ghost doth end the strife,
And doth his warring senses straight control:
Far flies her soul escaping human sight,
Like louring Falcon in her airy flight.
This was his loved spouse, whom
Aimaran,
Not yielding to his lust, causde to be slain,
Dicaa
was her name, whom wicked man
In sepulcher too timely doth detain,
When first her woeful husband hopeless ran
Into despair, not daring to complain:
And still lamenting all his days outweares,
Upon her grave green growing with his tears.
As one whom raving
Hecuba
hath bit,
Whose blood corrupted with her venom'd tung,
Confounds his senses and amaz'th his wit,
And uncouth noise that in his ear still-rung,
Casteth him down in some outrageous fit,
With such a fury was this mourner stung:
Despayre still howleth in his flagging ear,
Haunting his heart like over-hungry bear.
But now hath hope that sweet physician,
Lifted the spirits which were far deprest,
Infusing in a cordial potion,
Solacing drops which work eternal rest,
And driving thence this mourning passion,
Inthroniz'th thoughts of Ire within his breast:
Whose sulphur kindled with a mounting fire,
Blow vengeance in his hearts contorted gire.
Foorth doth he march to the seditious campe,
Who only did expect some worthy head,
That might conduct them as their lights bright lamp,
Amidst wars darkness which are menaced:
Who when they saw him, like a cloudy damp
That doth the vayled fields all over-spread:
So do their troops concur from every part,
As venial blood unto the lively heart.
They have agreed of placing every wing,
Themistos
is the General of the field:
They pitch their tents with joy and revelling,
And warlike bowers now apace they build,
And now black night her rusty coach doth bring,
Furthering with silence all events they wild:
All things for battle ready are prepared,
The townsmen sleep as they that nothing cared.
The morne no sooner op'd her ruddy gate,
But straight a peal of Trumpetters do sound,
To stir their hearts with thoughts of hie debate,
Whose hate against their king might deep rebound,
As Mandrakes cry a passer doth amate,
Striking his soul with irrecured wound:
So doth this noise affright great
Bdella
•
s
peers,
To hear such music rattle in their ears.
Hark
Aimaran
how death with gastly cry,
Doth sound the knill of thy deserved fate:
Hear how the trumpet of thy destiny,
Looseth the bands of blood ennurtur'd hate,
That tingles in thine ears and bids thee die:
Yet stops deaths doors and shuts that loved gate,
Bellona
howling from her bellowing cave,
Bids thee torment thyself and curse and rave.
Where shall thy haunted soul find place of rest?
The heau'ns are darkened with the bloody smoke
Of harmless Saints, whose lives thy hands oppressed,
Hell vapors ready are thy soul to choke:
In earth the shrikes of ghosts thy thoughts molest,
And furies which the doors of bondage broke,
Come up to banquet on thy poured blood,
And make their damned selves this damned food.
As
Athamas
whom fury doth enflame,
Tears poor
Learchus
with his bloody hands,
And madly runs whom no restraint can tame,
But furious wanders through unknown lands:
So doth this tyrant burn in quenchles flames,
Breaking with violence all natures bands,
Like one that drunk the
Ethiopian
lake,
Into whose soul thousands of furies brake.
But now in counsel house they do all fit,
To try if policy can better fight,
And make their battles with the arms of wit:
But troubled senses cannot judge aright,
And they wrapped in the trance of sudden fit,
With staring gazes each their mates affright,
That now they are but like a flock of owls,
Wondring to see themselves such shapeles fowls.
At last a
Nestor
bolder doth arise,
And tells no time it was thus staring sit,
But send some Legate to the enemies,
To tell if their requests with reason fit,
They should be granted all in ample wise:
Another as reproving former wit,
Thinks it is best with fierce and open war,
To drive these rebels thence removed far.
But now stands up
Ulysses:
certes (quoth he)
All that you say is but consumed wind:
But rather let our Kings great majesty,
Himself with solemn oth in letters bind,
That whatsoever rebels armed be,
If they return they shall great favor find,
And have rewarded them incontinent,
What wrong soever causde their discontent.
But when they come well shall we then provide,
To quite their courtesy with cutting fare,
The sword of vengeance shall the cause decide,
Each rebel that tumultuous armor bare,
Shall his rebellion with great smart abide:
And for the people's voice let no man care,
The Lion roaring in his princely den,
Shall with his noise astonish lesser men.
Foule serpent-head within whose poys'ned brain,
A thousand devils keep a cabinet,
Which mighty
Jove
hath damned to during pain,
When for this deed thou shalt for anguish fret,
Thy cankerd soul who shall no rest obtain,
But feed thy womb with woe and deep regret,
Millions of furies yawning with their jaws,
Shall comb thy carcass with their renting claws.
Horror within thy soul shall thee affright,
Which makest of naught the truth despising good,
Damnation doth awayr: But O dread fight!
Loe many I do see in raging mood,
Which bid me silent be, and in despite
Bid me leave preaching, or theile have my blood:
Well I recant this counsler was not bad,
But worst, and what degree Ill greater had.
Now while this mate was telling on his text,
In breaks
Themist
•
s
with a mighty host,
The gates are broken and the town perplexed,
It hapt this counsel which they counted most,
Hath lost his end▪ come come devise the next,
Or worse then this, and then thy haunted ghost
With the next fury that to
Orcus
went,
May for a token to great
Dis
be sent.
But tis too late, look where the winters frost
Fals, that shall kill thy boughs with pinching cold:
Look
A
•
maran,
see thy heaps which now are lost,
Those heaps which thou from subjects didst withhold,
See how thy soldiers dying ban thy ghost,
And ding it down to hell a thousand fold:
Go curse and die, accompany their souls,
Carrouse with
Pluto
black
Cocitus
boles.
Behind thee doth a hagge awayt thy end.
To carry hence that blood-defiled mass:
At hell do all the ghosts in ranks attend,
For to salute thee when thou forth doest pass:
Yonder thy deaths-man stands, whose hand shall send
Thy spirit to his well deserved place,
While infants wallowing in their mothers gore,
Shall pass thee downward with a gastly roar.
Look how thy subjects lie all martyred;
There sits a matron dying on her child;
Their mangled carcasses but tortured,
By never dying pain from death beguild;
The rebel-sons run where their fathers bled,
And in vnhumane blood their feet defilde;
The heaps of corses like a
Phar
•
s
lie,
And bloody rivers like the red-sea by.
Nothing but scarlet doth inuest the street,
Which like a judge doth frown upon the sky,
A great
Aegaeum
all along doth fleet,
In which dead heaps of men ore-whelmed lie;
Here a big rock of armor you shall meet,
There a great I will of men you shall pass by,
While sanguine object with his strong reflex,
Staines heau'ns fair face with purple scattered strekes.
Howle foul
Megara
from thy gulfie throat,
And ring thy knill for
Aim
•
ranes
ghost;
Charon
provide thy never empty boat,
He means anon to travel yonder coast;
Alecto
now put on thy crimson coat,
Least he in bloody fayrenes thee out-boast;
Comb down thy snaky locks, dress right thy head,
He loving means with thee to take his bed.
Like
Margiates
in West Indyes land,
When
loves
great thunder bellows in their ears,
Quauering and shaking they affrighted stand,
To hear that heaven a base so hollow bears,
So doth this monster at his foemens band,
Faint fear up lifts his bloody clotted hears,
For fear (which doth his heart subdued take)
His paralitike members still do quake.
When comes
Themistos
and with gliding sword,
No sooner pierceth his disseuerd skin,
But thousand Devils on his corse do bord,
And greedy thrust their bloody muzzels in.
After they heave him to the Stygian ford,
Where for the guilt of deep inured sin,
With wiery whips he suffers grisly wounds,
And with his raving, hells vast vault rebounds.
But where that wicked counsailer was gone,
Each man doth doubt, some say that down to hell
Aliue he was distraught, and many a one
That by the swords well worthy edge he fell;
But how soever let him lie alone,
No man shall grudge the chance that him befell:
The heaven shall melt, the Sun shall bait in South,
Before he shall escape hells yawning mouth.
CANT. 2.
Themistos
with
Encrata
takes his way,
Astonisht with a hideous yelling cry:
And
Erophel
is flying fast away
From her sweet love that for her wrong will die;
Who now affrighted with a rarest chance,
Against his life his own hand doth advance.
THe comet fumes which from the earth ascend,
Unto great
Cinthias
concaue circulation,
May long defer their doom-denouncing end,
Before they be compact in conglobation,
But at the last their fury they protend,
Kindled with some celestial inflamation,
No cloud their eating flames with moisture stops,
But down they pour their ruddy-burning drops.
So may the smoky sighs of innocents,
Which by great
love
still make their sad complaint,
Long volley forth, before revenge assents,
The guilty damned souls for to attaint,
But when deep vengeance once her claws indents,
The comet of their plague shall never faint,
But with new brimstone freshly still relieu'd,
Shall keep them in still-during torments grieu'd.
Which
Bdellaes
towers, well-worthy towers have seen,
And felt the stroke which long hath been deferred,
Justice long houerd heaven and them between,
And with repining ears their follies heard,
At last inflamde with wrath and ragefull teene,
Maskt in a bloody fire she straight appeerd,
Whose flakie flame pitching on
Bdella
walls,
With them in everlasting ruin falls.
So is it left all desolate forgone,
No call of Music nor of man doth sound,
The shady Owl in deadly notes doth groan,
And luckles Wezells nestle in the ground,
While goary blood besprinkled all upon,
Reflecteth in the air a circle round,
Whose gloomie sight until these latest day,
Driues fearful passengers another way.
Sometimes the ghosts walk in those paths of woe,
And with their skreeching fright the neighbor land,
Sometime a fire doth seem alone to go,
A thousand torches as in battle band,
And brandish in the darkness to and fro,
At which the inhabitants appalled stand,
It seems black hell hath ripped her prison womb,
And means in mask unto the earth to come.
Now hath
Themistos
left this fearful place,
And he alone is gone to seek his chance,
Minded not ever back to turn his face,
But armed with that sword of piercing Lance,
Which slew great
Aimaran,
he forth doth pass,
And gainst each foe his weapon doth advance:
Now hath he croft full many a wood and hill,
To virtue no way ever happens ill.
This time it chaunst that
Ereb
had debate,
Wroth with his wife, wrapped forth a fire brand,
Who loathing light, and kindled straight with hate,
Lifts up from sable hell her pitchy band,
And with her gloomy troupe at
Phoebus
gate,
To keep the light from earth enragde did stand:
So was
Themistos
ere he was aware,
Left in black shadow and to nightly care.
But on the plain he spies a mighty tree,
Whose green attire did shield the falling rain,
And oft in under
Floraes
Nimphs with glee,
Would dancing lead their fair
Napean
train,
That with soft down his roots invested be,
Where
Faunus
with this Nimph hath often lain▪
Here doth he mean to pass the silent night,
Till with his eyes he shall salute the light.
The Stars all ready at their watch do lie,
And silent murmur whistles through the green,
Which rocks his senses with a Lullaby,
That in deep slumber now they buried been,
Delighted with this dumpish harmony:
But now fair
Phoebe
half her way hath seen,
And his deep dreaming is so violent,
It cannot longer time be permanent.
Morpheus
hath left his black pauillion,
And hath unlocked the portals of his eyes,
When straight he looks the continent upon,
Whither the Mornings chariot yet did rise,
But she with
Tithon
kept her mansion,
And in his cold embraces chayned lies:
This while the Knight doth smile upon the air,
To see it shining such a duskie fair.
But as he views, the most celestial face,
That ever nature made to show her power,
Sends to his eyes the beams of such a grace,
As beauties fairest rays they forth did pour,
Naked she was, and spotles from deface,
Beauty she seemde it self, or beauties bower:
That if fair heaven on earth did ever dwell,
Then this was heaven, on whom all graces fell.
Her skin the linen where with cunning start,
Beauty had wrought the sum of all her skill,
While with her needle here and there apart,
With azure work her sampler she doth fill,
And turning to the breastplate of her heart,
She worketh fairly there a double hill,
Where on her double ruddy stewards do stand,
Which keep the harvest of fair beauties land.
These lightning darts his heart had almost brent,
Though not in lust but in diuinest love,
Therefore his eyes as messengers he sent,
Unto that maid her courtesy to prove,
Who with these words her treasure doors vnbent,
Let not the thought of me your passions move,
For from the heavens I come to guide your feet,
In purest paths from deeds and ways unmeet.
He gently proferd her a Nectar-kiss,
She met him yet did blush as half with shame:
He now is hers, and she is wholly his,
But not as looser wantons them do name,
This thoughts divine harmoniall consort is,
Far from the deeds of night those worthy blame,
Whose noisome poison cankering within,
Consumes the flesh with pain, the soul with sin.
But while within their souls this melody
Sounds pleasing tunes all ravishing the heart,
They are affrayghted with a hideous cry,
Like to an host conioynd in bloody Mart:
And bellow forth a note when down they die,
Which doth persuade these lovers to depart:
Where let them take the chance to them assignd,
Ere long time pass, I shall their journey find.
This noise which tumbled in such fearful wise,
Came from two brethren twixt whom deadly hate,
Still causes of new discord doth devise,
For when the watery Queen fair
Thetis
late,
In
Lemnos
walk,
Vulcan
did her surprise;
And on that Lady these two sons begat;
Who of two disagreeing Natures brought,
In passions disagreeing euersought.
But
Vulcan
wrought them armor with a charm,
And mighty swords which incantation bound,
That never could they work each others harem,
But in their foes would dint a griefly wound,
After he did his Sons thus strongly arm,
He set them in a ship, when first this ground
Receaude these warriors, that each little hour,
Their blades into each others breasts they pour.
This
Diaphon
that
Pyrhydor
is hight.
Who since they came into this little I will,
Have overcome in doughty strokes of fight,
All Knights within the space of forty mile;
But she on which these brethren now alight,
A Lady is that did her self exile:
From those which love her as their dear delight,
And doth bewail this her ungentle flight.
Whom seeing straight they ran to captivate,
First
Diaphon,
then
Pyrhydor
doth fly,
But cruel
Pyrhydor
inflamde with hate,
That he before him to the game should hie,
With a huge blow down cloue his riuen pate,
The other fairly quites his surquedry,
The Lady flying, piteously doth cry,
On ground they wounded, bellowing do lie.
Where lie they may this dame I will follow fast,
And by enquest search out her cause of flight,
She was a virtuous (but that time is past)
A virtuous Lady loved of each man's sight,
But now her faithless deeds have quite defast,
And darkened all her glories shining light:
Black clouds of sin, and never blushing shame,
Do wrap those silver wings of former fame.
As when the blossoms of a springing tree,
Promise the owner haruests chiefest pride,
And
Ver
clad in gorgeous jollity,
Though
Floraes
kingdom in her pomp doth ride,
Great hope there is that there great store will be:
But when the lightning from the heaven doth slide,
Then are they choked in the sweetest prime,
And all forget it was so good a time.
So did the bloome of her fair springing youth,
Clad in the robes of snow-white chastity,
Perswade the world a fruitful time ensueth,
And largest rivers of fertility,
But all this hope is turned into ruth,
When filthy flame of infidelity,
Scorcheth the wings on which pure faith doth fly,
And makes her in her verdant blooming die.
She
Erofel
is calde, whom long there loved,
Good
Erophil
well tried at sword and spear,
And to her match, her still her parents moved,
While she great kindness in her front did wear,
And seemde to love him as it her behou'd,
But in went masking heart of cruel bear;
Which Love doth hate, and takes his deepest joy,
With treacherous words to work her loves annoy.
Mischiefes foul venom bloweth up her womb,
Worse then
Calipsoes
toxicating draught:
Her wicked heart is his funereall tomb,
From whence the source of his sad death he raught,
Hence do his souls corrosue drenches come,
Which in deep sorrow his dear soul indraught;
While the like
Juno
at her husbands thunder,
Laugheth to see fair
Semele
torn asunder.
For when in gentle sort she seemde to quite
Faire glaunces to his euerdarting eyes,
He would in marriage bands confirm delight,
What ere he asks, she seeming not denies;
And doth avow to do her Virgin-right,
The day is come whereon his hope relies:
They are conjoined in a holy band,
He with his heart, she only with her hand.
Now doth he pray the Sun to fly apace,
And lash great
Pirois
on his lightning side,
Then
Cynthia
he desires to show her face,
And bids her nightly chariot upward slide,
Then doth he pray the clouds for to disgrace
The darkened night, and with their veils to hide
The loathed beams of
Phoebus
lingering light,
And make the Sun arise of his delight.
O foolish man how are thy wits yblent,
Why dost thou run into thy latest path,
Stay yet sweet Knight before thou do repent,
To late then will it be to heal thy skath,
And quench the fire when as thy bones are brent,
But so dire fate our deeds directed hath,
That like blind Moles into our bane we go,
But then she gives us eyes to see our woe.
Night up doth rise the mark of all his thought,
But sure his dart will miss the prick anon:
For
Erofel
hath an
Aethiop
hath sought,
Whom with rewards and money she hath won,
That to the genial bed this hagge is brought:
For
Erofel
to bed would go alone,
Refusing offered help, but she hath set
Another Pigeon in her cabinet.
And as the custom was she set a veil,
Which hid the worser face, and showed the fair:
Thus doth she set her rotten ship to sails,
And to a private chamber doth repair:
But
Erophil
his hour doth not fail,
At her due time he means all debts to pay her:
He off doth cast the clouds, whose euious dark
Hinders his sailing to the goodly bark.
The torches quenched he is left to rest,
And sets on foot upon his fatal bed:
O foot step back before thou be vnblest,
And be not guided with so rash a head:
O head seduced with so foul a guest,
With such alluring bayt O be not fed:
And O sweet Knight before thou grief do reap,
Fall not so soon, but look before thou leap.
But all in vain, down he his bones doth lay;
O haples bones that never thence shall rise,
He hopes to drive the chariot of the day,
Whose beams did daze a while his staring eyes:
But
Erofel
doth give his wishes nay;
Straight to her breast embraces he applies,
Then sugared-bitter kisses, and anon:
But shame and grief now bid me to be gone.
The Moon down wept a dewy dropping rain,
Wayling the fate of sweetest
Erophill,
And seemed to fair
Tellus
to complain,
That twas great grief that love such soul should kill,
Her darksome steedes she would have settled fain,
And made black night above remaining still,
That day might never bring that sunny ray,
Whose sight might bring this woeful Knights decay.
But
Phoebus
rose, forbidding longer night,
And fain the
Aethiop
would betime depart:
O no (quoth he) my chiefest loved light,
Then shalt thou take away my dearest heart,
And with eclipsing this thy clearest bright,
Thou shalt eclipse my souls essential part:
And then with an embrace he caught her head,
Therewith her beauty was uncovered.
Out leaps a face like to the
Lician
men,
That suddenly were turned into frogs:
Or when that
Cerberus
raised from his den,
Gastly presents three ugly barking dogs:
Or to the pitchy Queen of darkness then,
When she goes masking all in dampish fogs,
Fearing to put her beauties veil away,
Least to the wind she should her form display.
The Knight astounded, wrapped his mighty sword,
And present die thou
Incubus
(quoth he)
Which with a fiend hast wrought these deeds abhorred:
Farewell thou falsed love where ere thou be,
This edge shall end to grief and life afford:
With that his troubled ghost he soon doth free,
Who to those mirtle groves doth piercing fly,
Where he with
Dido
mourns his misery.
Now
Erofell
is gone in triumph fled,
And laugheth at her Tragic-plotting wit;
Where still with seat be thou disquieted,
Let gastly thoughts thy gnawed conscience bite;
And let those worms within thy soul be bred,
That never may surcease tormenting it:
While with all plots of mischief that I may,
I will compass thee, not resting night or day.
CANT. 3.
Themistos
hears a woeful wight complain,
And fights against the fearful Giants twins,
While
Erofel
doth hear
Pitinoes
pain,
And to torment him freshly she begins:
Still he repeats his love and loves desire,
Still she doth scorch him in a greater fire.
THough fortune feed thee with her delicates,
And stars do seem toaspire unto thy bliss,
Trust not the fickle reeling of the fates,
Nor in sond pleasures lap do lie remiss,
Hell still in op'ning her black rusty gates,
And sends forth fiends that tempt us to amiss:
Therefore about thy soul keep surest watch,
Least that temptation should thee over-match.
Though good
Themistos
had from heaven sent
A blessed gardian to direct his feet,
Yet clear he was not, for incontinent
A wicked Lady doth his journey meet,
And armed she was as one for justice bent:
But she was wanton and for pleasure meet:
At her birth-day fierce warriors angry king,
With the fair Queen of love was revelling.
And
Cipribel
her name, who now in love
With good
Themistos,
still did tempt to shame,
And with vain questions did his fancy move:
But fair
Encrata
would her sharply blame,
And with some holy tale her talk remove,
That she enraged with this Angel dame,
Swelleth with wrath that never can be quenched,
So deep in poisoned heart it is indrencht.
She would have racked her limbs ten thousand ways,
And spread her like the dust upon the ground:
But love enforcing, she much other says,
When soon
Themistos
had her purpose found,
And seems to yield to her: but with delays,
Least he should quite enforce a cureles wound:
And still he seeks to turn her path awry,
Into some other journey lying by.
Now while they pass, loe yond they see a wight,
Beating his breast with huge and ruthles blows:
Sometimes he staring looks on heavens light,
And straight himself upon the earth he throws:
Then on his hair his fingers do alight,
And flies as if he were pursued with foes,
And then as burden of his deadly song,
He scricheth that the woods resound along.
His face so pale and skin transparent was,
It seemed Deaths ghastly looking glass to be,
And then he cries, loe yond he comes alas!
The Giant! O now whither shall I fly?
But soon toward him doth
Thomistos
pass,
And bids him cheare his woeful heart: but he
Refuseth any spark of least delight,
And with his soul gainst comfort strong doth fight.
O what have you to do in dead men's graves?
(Quoth he) why trouble you what longs to death?
And hinder my repast, as curses, raues,
And sighs and tears, which feed my lingering breath,
Sorrow within my breast round-vaulted caves
Sings tunes, which most my ears sweet rauisheth:
Go fondlings to your haples wanton end,
I will on Griefe and blessed Death attend.
Then with a griping gnash he ends his tale,
As though an earthquake all his bow'ls did tear:
But him the Knight bespoke to tell his bale,
And who the authors of his sorrow were.
But he: so shall I cause thee to bewail,
And I grow worse: for cursed hope may nere
Take me from out my loved sorrows bands,
For all my soul I yield into thy hands.
But since thou needs wilt draw my cursed chance,
I
Algiger
am calde, that happy of yore,
Till fortune frownd with crabbed countenance,
But now ill luck down all my triumphs bore:
Yonder two monsters did their strength advance
Against my house, which fearful ruin tore,
My friends are slain, and I am left alone
To be: and there he breathed a deadly groan.
Faine would the Knight more of his tale express,
But he to any earthly joy was dead;
His soul entombed in deep heaviness,
Into a pleasing senseless dream was led.
The Knight full greatly moved with his distress,
Awakt him from his cares most uncouth bed:
But for no treasure that on earth doth lie,
Would he this Knight in way accompany.
Where leaving him, the Knight doth forward go,
Seeking by any means the way to find:
But soon he found it, for all passers know,
With sad experience all that monstrous kind,
For still they work the country scath and woe,
Leauing each where sad notes of ruth behind:
And now the Knight arriues unto the place,
Where his great valor shall their force deface.
He knocks against the posternes of the gate,
When straight forth steps a beldam dry with age,
When she the Knight espies, then plunged in hate,
Unto her sons she runs, who all in rage
Come forth embrued with the spoil, which late
They made, for safely pass no carriage:
This find hath
Policlopon
to his name,
That Pantarpazon children of one dame.
Huge mighty corps they have, which like a tree
March to and fro full gastly to behold:
Their heads with rau'nish jaws foul wolvish be:
Some say a devil did their dame infold,
Other that with a wolf lay ugly she:
But how-soere, all filthy is her mold,
Harpyia
she, well worthy such a brood,
At whose birth-time some hagge as midwife stood.
Now with the Knight the elder boy doth fight,
Yawning like
Orcus
jaws and gaping wide:
But at the first down in his throat there pight
The spears sharp point which doth full deeply slide,
When straight he parbreakes forth (O loathsome sight)
Great filthy gobbets which do upward glide,
And rawish meat and flesh that yet did bleed,
The nourishment on which his vice did feed.
But then
Harpya
soul doth curse amaine,
When as she sees him groveling on the ground,
And howles and raues, and bids his brother gain
The full revengement of that deadly wound:
He thought with meeting blow at first tohave slain,
The Knight avoiding, down it doth rebound:
The hideous beam wherewith this monster fought,
Into the groaning earth full deep is wrought.
When nimbly he divides his conduit-pipe,
Through which the
Lerna
of his sin did flow,
It seemed for
Pluto
now his soul was ripe,
With such a trice off doth his forehead go:
The whining dame doth with her apron wipe
His brothers throat, thinking his life to slow:
But all the furies of infernal hell,
Long since within his damned corps do dwell.
They thus captiu'd, he takes that foggy fiend,
And strips her naked from her antique hew,
And to a spreader both her feet doth bind,
That she might never him nor his pursew,
And with a cord doth tie her hands behind:
Thus is this haggard placed in her mew,
And to the scorching Sun her face doth turn,
Who with his beams doth her most fervent burn.
She with her curses gripes heau'ns highest seat,
Accusing them of her deserved pain,
And execrates the Sun for sending heat,
Bidding him drench his steeds within the main,
Then gainst the fearful throne she foul doth bleat:
But all her plaints and curses are in vain,
Her tortured soul to bloomy
Ereb
fell,
While on her carcass crows and ravens dwell.
Here to his spoils we'le leave this worthy Knight,
And follow
Erofel
that flies amaine,
Whom those two brethren did but now affright,
She to her former tricks returns again,
Seeking to work fair love her foul despite;
And that she sooner might her end attain,
In man's apparel she is fairly clad,
While woman's skin and wolvish heart she had.
Thus forth she marched in her way alone,
But that consorted with deceit and guile,
And she in many Suns hath painful gone,
But none she meets whom may her art beguile:
Further she travails still, but now anon
A voice she heard that fits her plotted wile,
And thus it faintly beats the yielding air,
Issuing from pangs of woe and deep despair.
Heart leave to pine, since pining cannot save,
Soul love not her, that doth not love thy love,
Mind be no longer to that force a slave,
That can deep passions, but no mercy move,
You clouds of sorrow no more issue have,
This tree for all your watering will not prove:
For that fair plant bout which your waters flow,
In midst of them all barren will not grow.
O she is sick with vnrecur'd disease,
That serpent foul disdain her sharp doth sting,
And to the cure I proved many ways;
Of my heart-blood I did a plaster bring,
And kept it warm with sighs, and strove to please,
And washed it with the wels of sorrowing:
My souls dear garden-plots I did reveal,
Yet by the chiefest herbs she will not heal.
But no, I am diseasd, here lies the wound;
For when her beauty had the harts in chace,
Which in the pale of love were servants bound,
Then I not able to withdraw my pace,
My self by those her arrows gored found,
Which fly from that fair bow of her sweet face:
Yet though I feel the arrow in my heart,
It doth deny me leave to break the dart.
Therefore thus festering deep in venom'd skin,
Since my lives Surgeon doth her help deny,
And all my sinews are consumed within,
No hope remains on which I may rely,
After this death my soul no life shall win,
But in a second grief shall ending dy:
So shall her cruel heart be fully pleasde,
My wounds embalmed, and my passions easde.
These and more mournful words still sighing deep,
He breathed vainly to the senseless sky,
Which might have brought a stony heart asleep:
But
Erofel
armed with black cruelty,
Shutteth the gates which pity vsde to keep,
And barring forth the plaints of misery:
Thus doth she board the Knight with words of guile,
Which craft and feigned sorrow did compile.
O do not cloud the heaven of your face,
With misty vapors which black woe doth spread,
Nor those bright lineaments so much disgrace,
That in their chiefest spring they should be dead:
Sorrow with swiftest wings still flies apace,
And joy goes flagging on the plumes of lead:
Driue that away which of it self will fly,
You need not open gates to misery.
What is it love? I know that poison strong,
Yet to resist against his powers assay:
If then you be too weak to daunt his wrong,
Open (if safely) all your story lay:
And if my help you will accept among,
And to my precepts will eftsoons obey,
My greatest aid to you I will avow,
Within this breast hath love been cured ere now.
O never may (quoth he) my wound feel ease,
I turn with
Sisiphus
a wrestles stone:
The flames of hell the furies may appease,
But these heart-burning coals will nere be gone:
God's may
Prometheus
from his chains release,
This vultur ever feeds my heart upon:
These everlasting pangs and weary breath,
Unto my woes give life, to life a death.
But since her name thus sounded by my words,
Doth so much ravish my even-sleeping soul,
And then Disdaine like many thousand swords,
Rips up the closed wound which erst was whole,
And nearer end to fainting thought affords,
This Tragic story here I will vnrole,
The Chronicle of many a woeful thing,
Which in those days were done when love was king.
Within a stately palace happy dwells
A mighty Lord, whose now-extolled height,
By fortunes aid the state by much excels,
Of any neighbor Prince or foreign Knight
Blest now he is, but not so blessed else,
Had not fair Nature lent those torches light,
Which guide the fortune of each mighty peer,
Without whose help their fame will nere be clear.
The fairest offpring from his loins proceed,
That ever heau'ns coniur'd should ravish eye,
Whose very thought my dying soul doth feed,
With fainting sight of such felicity:
Sure some divine she is, no earthly seed,
No man can sound so sweet a harmony,
Fairest of fairs, burning bright beauties flame,
Heavenly her nature,
Bellamy
her name.
O let me see the mornes fair blushing rise,
Or let the dove set forth her fairest white;
Let heaven vnclose his treasure to the eyes,
And fairest gems present them to my sight,
Or pleasant'st show that in each color lies,
With which faind beauty often shineth bright:
These all united in one goodly frame,
Can scarce describe the picture of my dame.
Sure
Jove
was framing a new starry light,
And seeing heaven full, here made her place:
Heart-plunging thoughts do ravish with delight,
When I but once do seem to view her face;
Me thinks my spirit nere should see the night,
Rapt deeply with the image of her grace:
In vain I have her fame and praises sung,
My tongue disgraceth her, she grac'th my tung.
Now doth she flourish in her chiefest spring,
(O heavenly spring, though winter to my days)
And thirty Knights there lie a revelling,
Seeking by valiant acts and sundry ways,
Who to her thoughts may sweetest pleasure bring,
And who may win the sunshine of her rays:
O rays which through my heart as thinnest glass,
With piercing light and brightest edge do pass.
One time in Iusts a spectacle they made,
When as my eyes the sad spectators were,
Still with my growing sight my hope did fade,
And still my love did grow though hope did wear.
Thus pressed with despayres most heavy lade,
Her sight all hopeless, heartles I forbear:
For when so many wooed one only dame,
I thought too late my fancies suing came.
Therefore exposde to sorrow and despair,
Here will I sing the Dirges of my death:
Sometimes the Nightingale doth here repair,
Consorting with me in a plaining breath:
Sometimes the turtle robbed of her pair,
In groaning noise my tune accompaneth,
While pleasant death sweet singing in mine ear,
A part in this my plaining song doth bear.
Thus far this Swan sung forth his mournful plaint,
And much I rue the pain which him doth hold:
For well I know the plague which doth attaint,
This woeful man doth him most heavy fold.
Now
Erofel
with words which joy did paint,
Seemed to have his sorrow much controlled:
But what she spoke occasion doth deny
To tell, till better time shall bid reply.
Now some will think that I am much unkind,
To let this woeful wight thus plungedly:
But little do they know what I do find,
That yet remains more infelicity,
And she as women wont will have her mind,
Though for his ease I many ways do try:
And though in his defense I strongly stand,
These women needs will have the upper hand.
CANT. 4.
Diaphon
and
Pirthydor
in endless blows
Batter the castles of their furious harts,
Brethren by birth, by deeds most cruel foes,
That bloody still torment each others parts,
While
Algiger
all mortifide in soul,
The worlds short pleasures deeply doth control.
AS when a fiery brand that fiercely burns,
Taken from
Vulcans
ever-breathing flame,
And in the water laid, each other turns
Their force, their angry enemy to tame,
And while that either others might doth spurn,
From twixt them both a mighty rattling came:
At last when neither gets the upper side,
The force of both in might away doth slide.
Such is the flame which Discord doth incense,
That still it fights, and still it wastes away,
Still suffering loss, without a recompense,
With her own subject still she doth decay:
Still on her face she doth presume defense,
When still she means to get a spoiled pray,
The filthy rust that in our soul doth creep,
And with her griping teeth still gnaweth deep.
Thus do these brethren wast each others might,
Hewing their armor with down-thundering blows:
The burning fire never wanteth light,
Which discord with her envious bellows blows;
Her bellows to her servants likned right,
Whereof one swells when down his mate he throws:
Such is the state of any envious mind,
That by another's fall his seat doth find.
But now the mightiest fit that ever moved
A warring soul to fury and to rage,
Their concord with new quarrels hath reprou'd,
Whose force no hope there is ere to asswage:
If ever least degree they feigning loved,
Their love shall never see that infant-age,
Madness hath blown up their swelling harts,
Whose tumour never from his seat departs.
For while they trauaild on a pleasant plain,
They saw a little mount, that with his head
A prospect made upon the smiling main:
No bushie tree his beauty shadowed,
But open his fair flowrie top hath lain:
And to this hill a path directly led,
Whither these warring brethren take their way,
Willing to see what novelties there lay.
Streight to their ears the sweetest harmony
Doth blow, that ever sweet to ear can blow,
Whose force like fire could melt black cruelty,
And make it quickly gentle mercy know:
From out that little hill it soft doth fly,
As if
Apollo
all his art would show:
A little death it is, which up doth send
Our souls to heaven, before we make our end.
O cease those murdering strokes what ere thou be,
My soul will fly from hence unto thy cell,
And all in love with this will banish me;
Sweet honey issuing from a silver well,
Which giu'st a surfeit, not sacietie:
O do no more such pleasing murmurs tell,
But leave my virgin-thoughts without annoy,
Which thou wilt ravish with too great a joy.
When this enchanting noise their ears doth kis,
They hating all what harmony doth make,
With madness almost burst, all turned is
To egging ire, and forth their swords they take,
And like mad bedlams when their wit's amis,
Into an open fight most fierce they brake,
Where we will leave them there to learn some wit,
No other school then this can be more fit.
But now perchance this seemeth truth to pass,
That from the earth such heavenly tunes ascend:
But thus the Chronicles report it was,
That long ago within this land did wend
A Mathematick, that did work with brass,
And other things which to his art did tend,
So skillful that no sound on earth deuisde
Hath been, but he hath highly equalizde.
And here within the earth he built a cell,
Where he will try the utmost of his art,
And hath by labor now conjoined well,
Each moving member and each sounding part,
When with a running stream that thither fell,
To each he doth a motion impart:
Which all conioynd do frame a Music sound,
Whose forciue might can stony hearts confound.
Now Death his servant Sickness forth hath sent,
Who with his dooming mace doth him arrest,
And well he knows his bow so long lie'ne bent,
For ever in his vigor may not least:
Therefore unto this vaulted cell he went,
Where minding to set up his latest rest,
He closely shuts the caves fast ceeled door,
Which entrance may forbid to anymore.
And now his engines he in work doth set,
Which sent forth dulcet tunes to chant the ear,
While he to Nature pays his common debt,
And to the world did never more appear:
Therefore some thought that in this cabinet,
Immortal he all ages did out wear:
Some superstitious thought he was divine,
And offered sacrifice unto his shrine.
But he is dead (woe that such worth should die)
And darkness triumphs ore his rotten mass:
But his bright fame shall on her pineons fly,
As long as light from
Eos
doors shall pass:
Nor ever may that base obscurity,
Blot from men's thoughts that such an Artist was:
Obliuion all thy teeth may nere devour,
His famousde names still over-living pour.
But here the music and these fighting mates
I now must leave, where with unwieldy blows
And mighty thunderclaps each other bates:
So angry
Neptune
forth the surges throws,
When
Aeolus
hath loosd his windy gates,
And so against a rock the billow goes,
As do the lightnings of black envies heat,
With slicing dints their rocky armor beat.
But let me see where
Algiger
is gone,
That erst was wounded deep in cureles heart;
Look yond I see him where he walks alone,
Still yelling with the horror of my smart:
Sometimes to heaven he darts a heavy groan,
Then to the earth he doth a sigh impart,
While with the tears down rolling on his skin,
He wash'th his face without, not woe within.
Not long he trauaild till a mournful sound,
Sadly doth beat his sadder seated ear,
When ô he cries, and is there on the ground,
That can with me such part of sorrow bear,
Thrise happy I that such a mate have found,
Wose soul woes mourning gown alike doth wear,
Sweet sorrow which my fainting breast dost feed,
And with new cause of grief new joy doth breed.
Further he comes, when soon he sees a cell,
A little clowdie cell scarce taking light,
In which one only woeful wight did dwell,
That in the mortal world did not delight,
But still with tears unto his prayers fell,
Mourning full deeply what he did not right,
And still persuades his care-encompassed mind,
That on the earth it could no pleasure find.
True, true (quoth
Algig
•
r
) no joy there is,
That may delight the burdned soul of man:
Sorrow doth streightest lead the mind to bliss,
Whence perfect joy and happiness began.
Wherefore good Sire (and if I speak not miss)
Since I so rightly have this fortune wan,
Let us together here unknown go,
Telling each other of uncured woe.
Let us persuade the wandering passenger
With moral precepts mortifying the mind,
In sunder all his former joys to tear,
And bid him mourn for that his soul hath sinned,
Telling him never can his faults be clear,
Vnles his former thread he do vn wind,
Which leads unto the labyrinth of hell,
Where nere returning ghosts down damned fell.
Agreed (quoth he) and these clouds of mine eyes
Shall from their vaults in fertile showers fall,
To fructuate the earth that barren lies,
Those earthly souls I mean, to grace to call,
That life is fullest far of miseries,
Whom sharpest misery doth never gall:
For pleasure seems some solace forth to bring.
But deadly it doth pierce with Scorpion sting.
Thus they conioynd begin to ambulate,
And when they meet a wandering pilgrim-wight,
Then do they tell man's miserable state,
How pleasures light is but a blackest night,
How nothing that we do can quench the hate,
Which heavenly pours do bear, but in despite
Of earth and what the chained hurt may draw,
Make to our lawles hearts a new-found law.
Plunge deep in tears to wash thy spotted skin,
In
Iordans
waters seven times thee cleanse,
To purge the leprosy that lies within:
Let sighs still offer up a sweet incense,
And where with foul contagion of sin,
Those filthy fumes have wrought the souls offense:
There let that heavenly sacrifice repair,
And make the rinced soul twice brighter fair.
Contemne the world, where naught but grief is found,
Where sighs the air, and sorrow is the food,
Eternal tears the drink, and howles the sound,
Whose gastly notes we hear, while dropping blood
Makes seas of woe within our heart abound,
And discontent the fire, ourselves the wood:
From whose great flames black vapors do arise,
Which turned to clouds do rain down from our eyes.
But lie below where never tempest blows,
Seek out some narrow place where thou mayest weep,
Where solitariness invested goes:
On day remember grief, in silent sleep
Dream of thy faults, and those deserved woes,
Which in a prison do thy sad thoughts keep:
No thunder may thy cottage overturn,
Nor thus bedewd with tears can lightning burn.
While mighty Cedars feel the tempests wrack,
Each little shame as winters timeles frost,
Makes them all bare, and doth vncloth their back,
While they below smile at their garments lost,
Each of their faults and each unlawful act
Is seen to all, and they are learned most,
Which in these great men's crimes a lesson reed,
And tell their fellows any lawles deed.
While we in silence pass our silent days,
No ill on earth nor sorrow after death,
We fear not envious tongues, nor black disprayse,
While they (though soothed in this lively breath)
After their time are punished many ways,
Each swelling heart his hate vnburdeneth,
And wisheth that the earth may heavy lie,
And press them deeply with her gravity.
Thus passing forth a rueful sight they view,
Where many hung upon a crossing tree:
O these (quoth they) no more earths woe shall rew,
Thrise happy easde of mortal misery:
We have a mighty Ocean yet anew,
Through which our tossed ships to port must fly,
Brought to the sum of great felicity.
Further they go when comes a down-cast wight,
Whose face the Sun had dide with sunnie black:
O friends (quoth he) and can you take delight
On earth, while heau'ns great pleasures you do lack?
Come, come each man breath up his ending spright,
Before foul sin it drive to deadly wrack:
Send up to heaven a soul, ere sin it get,
Intangled in his nere-dissolved net.
O cease (quoth they) to make an overflow
Ouer the bounds of our ny-drowned minds:
This worlds uncertainty we well do know,
Who so seeks ought, naught but despair he finds,
And these our earthly bodies sinking low,
In mancipate of shame our souls do bind:
Our Sun with clouds is darkened in the rise,
The noon is black, but brightest when he dies.
Since then the fates our meeting thus ordained,
Let us not seek to teach what each doth see:
But let him happiest be most souls that gaind,
Franchising them to immortality:
Here will we tell how that the soul is pained,
Laden with earthly things, not ever free,
Before the bodies service they reject,
And here we'le counsel them to that effect.
Agreed, they framed full many a wooden cross,
And digd up pools and many other ways,
When they persuade them to this gaining loss,
The worlds loss gain, which gain our soul imbayes
In happy rest where never tempests toss:
But sweet content our souls in quiet lays,
Where
Aeol
dares not forth his servants send,
Where ending woe, woes heir doth never end.
CANT. 5.
The Hermit tells
Asotus
Tragedie,
His wicked deeds and filthy luparie:
And
Cipribel
there learns felicity,
But
Erofel
still plagues with cruelty
Pirinoes
souls, whose craft when they had found,
They stripped her clothes, and to the steed her bound.
HAples that wight within whose bowels lie
The deep-drenched poisons of uncured vice,
Not any Antidote can help apply,
To whose souls cure no leach-art will suffice,
But tossed in the waves from any eye,
Payes desperate his souls vnmatched price:
But happy they awake from sleep of night,
To see the blessed days thought-cheering light.
Which seld seen bliss new-changed
Cipribel,
Hath by her gentle-smiling fortune gaind:
So they that in a parfum'd house do dwell,
The parfum'd odour afterlong retaind;
And wicked chaind with those that use do well,
Have from their wicked customs soon refraind:
The horse whose back the tamer oft bestrides,
At length with easy pace full gently rides.
After the Giant-fight when down he threw,
The filthy sons which
Alo
•
us
bare,
And those same monsters great
Themistos
flew,
Spoyling those wolves which all the passers tare,
From their black mansions he his seete withdrew,
And with the Ladies in his way doth fare:
Freeing each wretch from his unworthy pain.
Restoring them unto their rest again.
At length they past where they all wondering spide
A little rocky form, whence did arise
A fruitful issuing stream, that still did slide
From out the hollow stone in ample wise:
Fast by a little cabinet they eyde,
Whither desirous of some novelties,
They go enquiring what these things mought be,
Which they so strange and never-heard did see.
When by a crany there they silent view,
An old age-worn-out father that with beads
Praying full deeply, seemed some gift to sue
Of the great king, when still he earnest reads,
And letting down his beads says prayer new:
Thus he his life's cold Autumn-years doth lead,
Nor caring for the world nor worldly wealth,
But his beloved souls beloved health.
When straight
Themistos
; Sir, without offense,
If tell you may, pray tell the mystery
Of yonder stone, and if oft recompense
Can quite, I pray my kindness prove and try:
Sir, your request (quoth he) doth grieve my sense,
With new memorial of this history:
Yet though each word do bring with him a tear,
You shall my story and sad fortune hear.
Weeping and speaking thus the mourner says:
Where now vast rudeness shows her rugged face,
Here on these plains shone in the former days,
The stateliest walls that ere with glories grace,
Send to the world their fair prospective rays,
The place to them gave worth, they to the place,
That twixt both worths far worthiest they were seen:
O that as once they were they now had been.
Here dwelt (unworthy far here for to dwell)
My brother (why should I him brother call?)
Asotus
height, that nere-recured, fell
Into the snares of vice (O haples fall!)
Nothing but luxury did please him well,
Drinking and feasting and consuming all:
His belly was the ship whereto he set
All merchandise that he could ever get.
Like to the yawning mouth of ugly
Di
•
,
That ever gapes still hungry for his pray,
Where sinking down into the black
Abyss,
The pained souls their sins dear tribute pay:
Such was the never-satiat gulf of his,
Wherein still souls of beasts he fresh did lay:
When to extinguish his thirsts raging fire,
Whole haruests he of pressed-grapes doth require.
Once when the Sun began for to release
His teames, all weary with their daily pain,
Came by a godly father, whom he prays
His castles lodging for a night to deign,
Though loath he were so much to yield to ease,
Yet by requests here now he will remain:
In is he gone to take his nightly rest,
Meaning to lodge within this Pythoes nest.
Hunger the vulture that on every maw
Bites with her meager teeth her womb to fill,
Bids them to yield to common natures law,
And satisfy her not resisted will:
The father who before then never saw
The dish where rawish blood down did distill,
But
Pythagorean
like with gardens fed,
Wonders to see so many creatures dead.
Fie shame (quoth he) to kill the harmless beast,
That with his fleece maintains our vestiment,
And with this bloody meat to make a feast,
Which nature made for a more good intent:
What hath the ox deseru'd, that still oppressed
With heavy yoke in pain his years hath spent?
Or what the sheep, the sheep that innocent,
Which never cries for slaughter up ypent?
Sauing your tale (quoth he) and taking wine,
Asotus
in a full carouse doth swill:
But he whose grieved heart doth much repine,
To see him with those bloody meats to fill
His rau'ning panch, goes forward to divine;
Telling that for his soul this feast was ill,
Who in deep hell for penance long shall fast,
Guiltie to think upon his pleasure past.
Thus long he spoke when down
Asotus
lies,
Whom deep-fetched draughts had over-nigh oppressed,
When straight the Sire from out the castles flies:
Whence fled, he falls upon his humbled breast,
And zealous to the king of heaven cries,
Turning his face unto the darkened East,
Praying to show some judgment on his sin,
Before more souls this wicked vice might win.
No sooner hath he prayed, but vanished quite
The old foundations of the ruinde walls,
Like to a bird that flieth from the fight,
And in some far removed valley falls,
Nothing appears, but this ungodly wight,
Who while for help all cursing deeply calls,
Into this stone was changed, whence still arise
New issuing streams of superfluities.
And here stay I, that to the rising Sun,
For that his soul full many prayers say;
Beginning still, nor ever will have done,
Until to rest his soul transport I may:
This said; down riuolets of tears do run,
And straight all vehement begins to pray:
A ruthful sight it was, for deepest smart
Was sure engraven in his grieved heart.
But now is
Cipribel
quite shapte a new,
Sorrow within her heart doth tirannize,
Her former pleasure she doth deeply rew;
And be their God's which see our vanities,
Quoth she; rewarding men their sins great due,
Or is there any heavenly paradise,
Where everlasting harvest shall repay
The fruits of good which here on earth we lay?
This said, she doth the aged Sire request
To tell the blessed news she nere did hear:
Who all the rites that holy men professed,
And who unhappy, and who blessed were,
Which was the way to euiternall rest,
Where was the place of horror and of fear:
To her in largest told where we will leave
This new made Saint her lessons to receive.
Now good
Pyrino
must I tell thy woe,
The mighty wrack, thy weary bark sustains,
Whom
Erofel
thus tumbleth to and fro,
With boisterous winds of her infected brains;
Needs must thou to thy haples fortune go,
When desperate rider holds thy guiding rains:
Loss of a love, in love is greatest death,
But mocking of his loss twice burdeneth.
After he had sung forth the history,
Wherein his Tragedies he did reveal:
Erofel
seems some comfort to apply,
And where she poison lays, she seems to heal,
Like the
Hi
•
na,
that will sorriestcrie,
When she in cruelst manner means to deal:
The Adder in his seeming kiss doth sting,
And mischief lies within most flattering.
Now she persuades to lift his wearied seete,
And to his Lady turn his doleful course;
Perchance (quoth she) some streams of hope do fleet,
Which may quench out the flame, ere growing worse;
Who never ventures, prize shall never meet,
And he his own unwillingness will curse:
That while occasion turns her hairy face,
Staies nor her never-back returning pace.
Now when the darkened evening calls to rest,
When Stars all ready in their watch do stand,
When he doth of his love remember least;
Then comes she in and questions doth demand,
To overcharge the wight so deep oppressed,
To make him dream of things like furies brand,
In the infernal nookes of gaping hell,
Torturing the souls which down condemned fell.
So lankish famine gnawing on her breast,
Tires
Erisicton
with a wrestles drought,
And makes him ever hungering sor a feast;
When yet that swallowed feast but grieves his thought,
That his luxurious end so soon hath ceased,
Even such love famine hath this Tiger brought:
To this ore burning youth, within whose soul
A thousand
Sisiphus
their wrestles burdens roll.
Sometimes in woman's clothes she would appear,
In mighty shadows to affright him more,
And
Bellamies
diuinest image bear,
And play an Antic by his chamber door:
When straight the lover thinks that she was there,
And in pursuit out from his bed he tore:
She flies, he now remains of all bereft,
Like one whom Fayries company hath left.
One night she came to play her wonted game,
When he all desp'rate in a mighty rage
Drew forth his blade, and brandishing the same,
Betwixt them made an uncouth marriage,
And made her arm give to her head the blame,
That framed such plays upon so strange a stage:
For he deep stroke unto the center-bone,
O haples stroke it had no further gone.
Like
Cadmus
Dragon in the
Theban
cave,
When with his spear he pierst his writhed tail,
Begins within his den to rage and rave,
And swelling deeply means then to prevail,
When with united force at him he drave,
Such rancor doth her cancred heart assail:
As
loves
great Eagle lesser foul doth rent,
To massaker him so, her heart is bent.
But now the fates thy whiter threede have spun,
Foule
Erofel,
now hath thy shady loome,
All died in pitch her griefly birth begun,
Masking misfortunes shade and haples bloome:
Now hath thy night vailde thy most orient sun,
Black chance to worser fortune doth thee doom:
Cast down Loves Scepter, tirannize no more,
The wings are scorched which once thy flight vpbore.
When cheating
Phoebus
bad his fiery steeds
Breath forth bright lightning in the rising morne:
Pirino
on whose heart grim sorrow feeds,
Left his sad couch in which no rest is borne,
Now easier fate his happier chance areedes,
Love doth not prick him as it wont beforne:
Whose presage drieth up the ice of smart,
And makes a verdant spring within his heart.
Upon his foaming Palfrey doth he mount,
When straight his fury hath his heart in chase:
But let the cottages make great account,
When
Boreas
turns his cloud-in-wrapped face,
This Castell now all storms wrath doth surmount,
It scorns to stooping now his height debase:
Go
Erofel
those jaws in sunder tear,
Whose poison to no worth their edge doth rear.
Foreward they travel in appointed way,
Driuing the tediousness of shortened miles,
She still is egged to the Knights decay;
And with new stinging tales his cares defiles,
While nothing can her words his mind afray:
But now a sudden noise doth end her wiles,
Like to the humming of great swarms of Bees,
Which in this sort unto their hearing flees.
Go
Aspicke
go, which with thy venomd sting
Defil'st the purity which nature gave,
Within thy head a thousand fiends do ring,
And whispering counsel do thy thoughts deprave,
Let mischief thee unto thy burial bring,
Or robbers lay thee in some uncouth cave:
Where thou entombed in eternal night,
Mayest not defile the toxicated light.
While thou my soul whom spots of sin do stain,
Vanish from this thy worldly pilgrimage,
And to the highest powers of heaven complain,
Thou didst unwilling spoil thy heritage,
While as the sun who knows my inward pain,
Viewing the woeful offspring of my rage:
Shall witness to black
Radamant
that I,
A penitential sinner fainting die.
While thou fell hagge, whose foul corrupted mind
Doth glut his thought with sight of others grief,
Mayest wander haples never help mayest find,
But driven from thy haven of relief,
Tosse up and down with some uncertain wind,
Not ever trusted never get belief:
And I appointed to a fatal end,
Will die that life, whose death is lives dear friend.
Following the sound unto a bush they came,
Whom when he saw: and doest thou live (quoth he)
And took his sword and would have pearst the dame:
But straight
Pirino
; pray Sir patient be,
What ever your offended thoughts can blame,
I deeply vow shall be redressed by me:
Only bewray the reason of your wrath,
And who the author is of all your scath.
O Sir (quoth he) this is a woman borne,
Though falsely hid in feeming man's disguise,
Whose beauty as his badge my heart hath worn:
Woe to the time I heard her flatteries,
For since that time my soul was still forlorn,
Of th' Angel hew of my fair infancies:
I touched the pitch which in her corps do lie,
By which the vestalls of my heart do die.
For this was she whose once beloved face
Wrought deep affections in my yielding mind;
And over rulde me with her pleasing grace,
While in this love, her tractable I find,
And all my words doth seem glad to embrace,
Which doth in double bands my duty bind:
Her did I worship, I doll of my heart,
And my most dearest souls more dearer part.
Now are we joined each in giving troth,
And have appointed certain time to bride,
One was the mind, one was the thought of both,
When I was sad, then she her light would hide,
And seem as if to joy her soul was loath,
Both in uniting of their loves abide:
But this so high a sea of rising love,
Soone to a lowest ebb then ere did prove.
She seemde like
Phae
••
n
in her desire,
And needs would drive the chariot of Sun,
Carying her Suns to overcharging fire,
When thus to me her doleful speech began:
O love whose heart the seat where I aspire,
Hath with so deep a love my loving won:
O be not hard which Nature soft hath made,
Nor let the spring of kindness scarce borne fade,
Here is my heart whom thy Suns love doth melt,
But it like wax more melting more doth hang,
Which loves comburing zonefull deep hath felt,
This heart which in my breasts fair temple rang,
Unto thy service still; and still hath dealt
Faithful in love, though thorough many a pang:
Ease it and me from such a sweltering zone,
Where thirsty still; still water we have none.
This heart all bloodles let it be thy white,
And shoot there with thy arrows piercing steel;
Or if in his confusion thou delight,
Then torture it upon a racking wheel,
Or let thy swords sharp edge thine ire acquit,
And let it any torment / plagued feel:
Only first pierce it with a dart of love,
Then all the instruments of anger prove.
Sweet love, one only Nectar-drop I crave,
Do not deny me one: one is not much,
Though to thy love thus I am bound a slave,
Yet little meat to feed me do not grutch,
And with one morsel me from dying save,
O cruelst death of all, whose death is such:
O didst thou see my heart, how it doth beat
And pant for hunger, sure it should have meat.
Perchaunce the people's voice thou much doest fear,
That's like a wind which never man can see,
Whose idle tumor many things doth bear
Which are untrue, she everywhere doth flee,
The best do often her worst colors wear,
And on her sable pinsons lifted be:
Beside our marriage, to be made ere long,
Will strengthen all the breach, & make it twice as strong.
Now in my heart Reason and Love did fight,
Reason with ensign red, Loves ensign pale,
My face the field where they do wreak their spite,
Sometimes Loves ensign vanquished, down would fall
Then Reasons color played most in fight,
And in a blushing red enuellop'd all:
Straight Love recovering his former spright,
Kept Reason down, and claimde the place for right.
Then said I to my soul, how dost thou kill
The only child I have sweet Chastity,
The Judge for murder damn to torments will,
Thy wicked thoughts? O whither dost thou fly?
O do not leave thy goodly fort, until
With these thy holy goods thou needs must die:
But then my soul that scornde a woman stay,
Opend the Castell door and made her way.
Now am I robbing from my spoiled Saint,
Those milk white robes wherewith she was araide,
And with this sacrilege my soul do taint,
My goddess in her shrine no longer staide:
When as she saw her servants faith to faint,
And on her turtle wings her self she laid:
When to my thoughts she gave her latest will,
That still hereafter shame her seat should fill.
Now is my garden naked of his flower,
Whom I before with care did till and dress,
And gave it to her for my chiefest dower,
The utmost toll of all that I possess:
But then her wanton looks began to lower,
And filthy figure of ingratefulnesse:
Leauing my bower unto the world she fled,
Since when with horror all my days I led.
And here a Pilgrim have I spent my life,
My life grown old with care and guilty shame;
Where now black melancholy is my wife,
Harb'ring my thoughts when they for succor came,
Scorning the world, whose sorrows are so rife,
Where one hours joy doth bring one ages blame:
While musing thoughts which on my wife I bred,
Do find me meat on which I still have fed.
Thus hath he said, while guilty
Erofell
Did oftentimes assay from thence to fly:
But good
Pirino
that her guiles did smell,
Made her the listening of the tale aby:
Which when he ended, both upon her fell,
And stripped the clothes of her hypocrisy:
When by the fresh apparance of the wound,
Pirino
all her craft and guile had found.
Then bound they fast her naked arms behind,
And to the horse her feet they strongly tide,
And let her go where she shall never find
Rest nor relief, but still in horror ride:
Like to the
Afric
Mares that on the wind
Engender, and their kind have multiplide:
So doth this fury on the empty air
Breed guilty shame, and stinging deep despair.
She scoures like
Auster
on the sandy plains,
And when a far she vieweth any man,
She turns her course and flieth thence amaine,
While as the Sun with his still scorching bran,
Dies her quaint face in a far blacker grain,
And her deformed hair down still doth fan,
While on her heart sharp hunger still doth feed,
Quenching her thirst with tears that ever bleed.
Now do
Pirino
and this Knight consent,
To wander through the I will as errant Knights,
And swear to keep their martial thoughts vnbent
From Ladies service, or those loves delights,
Though I still bad them from their vow relent,
Telling the worth of all those female wights,
When they fro me all raging spurd amaine,
Swearing that woman's love I nere should gain.
CANT. 6.
Faire
Cypribel
doth proud
Orguillo
meet,
And wins his helmet by her martial might,
Who lay low conquerd humbly at her feet,
And with a Tiger fiercely she doth fight,
And her loves tomb and death she now doth see,
Themistos
doth a Knight from bondage free.
AS doth the Elixer with his secret power,
Turn baser metals into purest gold:
Or as the comfort of a moystning shower,
Reuiues the flowers which down their heads did hold,
Whose parched roots barren drouth did devour:
So doth the speech which he to her hath told,
Clensing the dross from her defiled mind,
As misty fogs with a North scouring wind.
And now
Themistos
will depart away,
Sundring their diverse ways unlike events:
And
Cypribel,
whose soul in new array,
Goes forth to help the poor and innocents,
Is marching early by the blush of day,
With speate in rest and shield sit for defense:
Meaning to teach the worse what she doth learn,
Or with her sword to make them dearly earn.
Forth gone, she meets upon a mountains head
A stately Knight that proud vpbore his crest,
His footcloth all with stars bespangled,
And on his shield all azurde was imprest
An Eagle, or, above a Sun was leyd,
Whereon his fastened eybeames still did rest:
Sic oculos
his word, the world to tell,
That so on high his haughty mind did dwell.
Behind him on a lingering asse there rode
A sober man, down by whose belt was tide
An inkhorne pendant, from his neck there yode
A thinnest robe not cut of any side,
Whereon his poesie patchingly was sowde,
A bird that picked a Serpents jaws all wide:
Dura necessitas
the word, to show,
Hunger and want did make them both do so.
This was a poet whom this lofty Knight,
Maintainde to write his verse ennobled gests:
For he to ground full many foes had dight,
Vpheauing them from out their saddle rests,
All which in lofty verse this hand did write,
And sure I story was that Muses hests,
Should thus be prentises to servile deed,
But rocks cannot resist sharp piercing need.
Now are they met, when quoth that lofty mate,
Give me thy sword, least this my breath confound
Thy blasted soul, if once I wreak my hate:
When nay, replide she, things so hardly found,
May not be given to each that big will prate:
But fight for it, and first we will compound,
That who orecomes shall this for reward bear,
He shall the helmet have his foe did wear.
He is agreed: now are they set for race,
And fiercely run each against th' others breast:
So have I seen when
Neptune
with his mace,
Hath made the raging floods with storms oppressed,
Two hugie Argoes with most tumbling pace,
Too much with tossing tempest ouerprest,
Thunder against his fellows bellowing side,
While in the gulf down swallowed both they slide.
Both tumbled down, they do renew with hand
The fight, which on their palfraies not prevails,
Each on the other lays his steely brand,
And where they see defense most surest fails,
There straight their cleaning weapon fixed doth stand:
At last
Orgillo
on her helmet nails
With mighty force his plate-entrenching blade,
And on her head a skarring wound he made.
She moved with the rigor of the blow,
Plucks in one stroke the force of all her might,
And on his shoulder down her blade doth throw,
Which sliding thence his arm doth sharply bite:
Which wounded, doth his fencing targe let go,
While she doth claim her victories due right:
He willing, but not able to resist,
Doth suffer her to do what ere she list.
Down doth she take his helmet from his head,
Whole lofty plume upon the highest set,
Told that his proud heart would to heaven have fled,
But that the dross of his soul corps did let:
And straight her helmet she uncovered,
When from her crown the curled corronet,
In which she pleated had her tangled hair,
Fell from her head down playing with the air.
Orguillo
shaming now to see a maid
That got the conquest ore his quailed might,
Himself upon his palfrey straight he laid,
And spurring mainly vanished out of sight,
His penny poet hasty after made,
But never was he since seen by the light:
Yet often hath his poet since been known,
Nor yet from out the earth his name is flown.
Now
Cypribel
still followeth on her way,
Lead by a beaten path upon a plain,
When straight she sees, as far as see she may,
A Tiger, hunting seemed for bloody gain,
Who thinking that she hath espide a pray,
With yawning jaws runs hoping to attain:
And with the Lady ramping she doth meet,
Who with her sword her grisly foe doth greete.
Such in the
Namean
forest was the fight,
When
AElcid
with the hideous Lion straue:
Such was the battle when in furious spite,
Jason
the fiery breathing monsters drave
Unto their end, by
Colchis
magicks might:
And such was
Theseus
when in writhed cave,
With puissant force and deeply graued dint,
His wrath on
Minotaur
he did imprint.
The Tiger bites, she cuts, but now at last
With griping teeth he hath vnloosd a plate:
Where when his jaws he meant next time to cast,
Drawing her bodies sent, he doth abate
The dreadful fury which is over-past,
And fawning seemed that was so fierce of late:
When straight he back returns his wonted way,
And seemed to follow did the Lady pray.
For when he softly went, he turns his eyes
Back to the dame, whom nothing fear dismayd,
But straight she follows him, that humble wise
Lead to a Sepulcher this errant maid:
A Sepulcher it is that covered lies
With helmets and with shields all over laid,
Which from the passing Knights this Tiger tore,
And for a covering to his master bore.
This is a Knight whose thoughts like to the sky,
Were turnde about this Ladies beauties pole,
A virtuous Knight he was, whom wantonlie
This Lady in her fond youth did control:
But now his loss she mourneth inwardly,
That she hath sent away so sweet a soul:
But when to cindats all consumed are,
Too late then fall the watery tears of care.
This Knight, when
Cypribel
was fled away,
Wandred through many a dale and weary hill,
Seeking his wretched sight on her to lay;
But she whom deep disdain too much did fill,
Flies from his sight, and seeks an uncouth way:
When he his labor never left, until
All in despair he came unto this plain,
Which by a forest nearly doth remain.
Here when he came, he heard a hollow groan,
Which from some cave did seem to volley out:
When following the sound, he now is gone
Unto the wood, where searching all about,
He saw a door which placed was upon,
To trap the wild beasts by some rustic lout:
Which when he opened forth a Tiger came,
That to a flattring look his face did frame.
Nor ever would he leave his dearest Lord,
Who meant ere long to leave himself and all:
But serves him faithfully at bed and bord,
Watching by night, by day abroad he stale
Such forest pray as did the wood afford,
Or he could get in great
Syluanas
hall:
But nothing could his former joy reduce,
Whose only cates are on her form to muse.
He pours forth tears when down the Tiger lies,
And with a wrinched face doth seem to weep:
Sometimes in hope to flatter fantasies,
He with his eyes doth woo sweet banished sleep,
When softly wrapped, the beast doth close his eyes,
Yet not full closde, a watch he still doth keep,
That rocky heart he hath, whom could not move
This Tigers and this man's so fruitless love.
But now he sees where death with greedy spade,
Means up to dig the minerals of his heart,
And his souls treasure dearly to invade:
When ready and prepared to depart,
He took a stone, on which he grauing made
The woeful ditty of his pinching smart,
And wrote his stony love on marble stone,
That to the graver seemed for pity mone.
Receive thou stone the issues of my woe,
Of which blood-issue now my heart must die:
And you black words shall forth testators go,
Of this my will to her that hence doth fly:
And if you see her, for me tell her so,
That in you all my testament doth lie:
Tell that on you I have ingrau'd by art,
That art and nature could not on her heart.
Tell her how still I loved her till my night,
And then I wrote to you, you should her love:
Tell how that tears my eyes did ever fright
Till now, and then I bad you springs to move:
Tell how I moved you with my pensils might,
When her my pensive heart in vain did prove:
How on my grave I grau'd these things to her,
My self the grauesman and myself the bear.
These things he writing dide, and dying wrote,
And left that story tomb-stone for his hearse:
When he no sooner past black
Stixes
bote,
But straight the Tiger with his claws did pierce
The trenched earth as deep as ere he mote,
Wherein he put the corse and heavy verse,
And from the Knights their helmets still would tear,
Which for a covering he would thither bear.
Now when the Lady came unto the grave,
She rolled thence the arms that on him lay:
Whom when she saw, from out her eyes she drave
A gushing flood that did his face imbay
In silver streams, which dying he did crave,
Yet could not gain it in his dying day:
But now his face all sprinkled with her dew,
Seemes looking fresh again and living new.
Sweet Nectar tears
Electrus
precious drops,
Wound saluing balm, whose sweet infusion
The bloody festering or an issue stops,
Caelestis-aqua,
whose sweet potion
Makes winter boughs renew their naked tops:
Aeson Medeas
incantation,
Which poured life into the wrinkled eld,
And plants the tree Deaths woodman down had feld.
Then takes she up the graven marble-stone,
And through her watery spectacles she reeds,
Which makes the letters three which erst were one:
O then (quoth she) of you there is no needs,
Vnles three hearts I had for all to mone,
My heart for one enough already bleeds:
O cruel heart that in so sweet a chace,
Couldest deny to turn thy flying face.
This fiercest Tiger seems to rue his case,
Thou wroughtst this misery whom he doth rue:
He with the earth hath covered his face,
Thou didst vnclaspe his heart, and there imbrue
Thy tyrant-thoughts that had too little grace:
These arms for shelter he about him true,
When I denide my arms about him wreath,
Which might ore come the surquedrie of death.
But now she leaveth this funereall song,
And causeth on his grave a stone be set,
While in the forest by, the trees among,
There she hath framed a fyluan cabinet,
Vowing to make the Knights that pass along,
To pay their shields to quit her sorrows det:
But vain, thy beauties shield would once have done,
More then the heap of shields thou now hast won.
Where leave we her to penance for her love,
And turn our driving sails another way,
Searching
Themistos
forth, that now doth roue
Towards the maiden town, where straight a fray
He hath begun, and with his fauchion drove
The quailed citizens to their decay,
Hewing and slicing with his glistering blade,
Such spoil with lambes have rau'ning Lions made.
This is a town whither a wanton dame,
That fled an exile through the loathed land,
And to these parts with her attendants came,
Where straight this goodly town they took in hand,
And in a little space vpraisde this frame,
Where that same Lady Queen did still command,
And many laws she made, whose greater part
Art quite extinguished, not without desert.
And this was one, that every Lady might
Two husbands have, and he that did refuse
To have a partner in his loves delight,
Should bear that pain that women's heads should choose.
One time it chanst when darkened was the light,
The Sun down sinking low from mortal views,
When to this town arriu'd a valiant Knight,
Where with his Lady will he spend the night.
There had he past that night and many a day,
Blinded with pleasure of so fair a place,
And meant a longer time to make delay▪
But while a citizen that saw the face
Of that fair dame, where beauties beams do play,
So ravishing and with so pleasing grace,
That his burnt heart was scorched with too much heat,
Feeling no moisture where the flame was great.
And seeing no good salve to heal his sore,
Where chastity the Surgeon should be,
Upon the women's law he trusted more,
And unto that his only hope doth flee:
Wherewith he warns the Knight, who not forbore
His lightning wrath, but quickly makes them see
How ill a cause they had, and with his sword
Hundreds of souls on
Charons
bote doth bord.
But multitudes his valor much oppressed,
And took him prisoner: so a Lioness
Whom from his young a ranger hath suppressed,
Caught in the subtle gins of crastinesse,
Bound in an iron grate doth quiet rest,
Helples despayring and all comfortless:
But when his liberty he once doth find,
He deeply shows the fury of his mind.
Now is this Knight captiude, and straight they call
A Jury all of women, that must sit
To judge this captive gotten in their thrall:
Some hags that meat in ten years did not bite,
Scarse able from their rusty couch to crall:
Some whose down sinking nose their chin did hit,
And some deep furrowed fogs with hollow eyes,
On whom who looks ten months he sooner dies.
These nod their heads like to a flock of geese,
Consulting what must in this cause be done:
When forth there steps an old vnlusty piece,
That twenty years hath never seen the Sun,
On whose furd chin did hang a budgie fleece,
With filthy moss and dross all overrun,
Whose gums the palsy so to ods did set,
That they their loosed teeth did all out spet.
Quoth she, even strip the youth that is so nice,
And let him naked there before them stand,
Bound to a post, that shall this once suffice:
No sooner she this judgment did command,
But all about him run like to the mice,
Whose troops conjoined in an endless band,
About the Bishop of great
Mainz
did run,
And on his corps an uncouth conquest won.
Now is he led unto an open place,
Where shameless creatures will his shame disclose:
But by the way a Knight there comes a pace,
Wondring a far to see such troops as those,
And doth inquire why this so great disgrace
Is offered him, and why he chained goes:
They straight the manner of his story tell,
Who to their words replide they did not well.
Then straight on him they rush, and left alone
The prisoner, only one attending stays:
Whom down he throwing drew his fauchion,
And on his masters throat it freely lays:
This while the other Knight so much hath done,
That many saw the latest of their days:
And sinking down to
Plutoes
smokie fort▪
Told him they could not stay to see the sport.
So
Perseus
of the Centaures havoc made,
Cleauing their hoofie legs with steely dint,
And
Stixes
banks with damned souls doth lade,
As do their Knights whose wrath will never stint,
Until the edge of ever-hungry blade,
Shall with his bloody seal each foman print,
And make his pasport currant down to hell,
Not hindered by the ghosts below that dwell.
The captive now is freed, while down they fall
Like to untimely fruit, whom blustering wind,
Breaking from out his iron-prison wall,
Strooke from the tree, and made new place to find
In lowest-ground, that
•
rst on boughs so tall,
All loftily his proudest stem did bind:
Dying into the dust he down doth slide,
Never to see his summer beauties pride.
CANT. 7.
The brethren still renew their sharp debate,
Pirino
views a fair distressed dame,
Whom cruel Knight had brought to woeful state:
With whom unto a castle soon he came,
After he had reueng'd the bloody deed,
Quiting the bloody man with bloody meede.
WHen as the earths great palsy doth her move,
Shaking her bowels with an airy rent,
It shiuers down the Citadels above,
And her great burdens all in pieces rent:
But not so much as discord doth remove,
Whose quartan shaking in his continent,
Feeds on the entrails of the stinging harts,
And tears his bowels in tormented parts.
Which mighty earthquake now these brethren shook,
That with their swords each others limbs do hew,
And makes them like the ruddy morning look,
Embrude in sanguine and in purple hew:
No time doth slide but one the other struck,
Dying the stained earth with gory dew:
The music still in harmony doth sing,
While still their swords to others sides they fling.
Thus do they hack and spoil with grisly wounds,
The vital fountains of their welling blood:
Like to the Bore whom
Meleagers
hounds
In
Calidons
forwasted fields withstood,
Whose iron tuske with renting edge confounds
The springs fair fruits and summers growing food,
Tearing the vine and
Bacchus
ensign down,
And in his panch that sacred juice doth drown.
Thus do they cruelly their forces waste,
Until two princes came unto the place,
Two princes that with love each one imbraste,
Ioyned in strongest league and mighty grace,
That in a loving heart could ere be plaste,
No envy could their plighted loved face:
But like two doves that in the woods do fly,
Starue out themselves when as his mate doth dy.
They pitying to see that spiteful hate,
Should thus distract the souls of tortured wights,
Went straight to part them from that sharp debate:
But they now swelling with unbounded sprights,
No whit the more their fury did abate,
But exercising still their hateful sprights,
Upon each other wreak their mighty wrath,
And in each others gore their swords imbath.
Like mighty bulls that in a female
••
ock,
Strive who should be the droues promoted head,
With horny engines do their frontiers knock,
That from their brows a purple stream down bled,
While drumming still with mighty blows they stroke,
And with their fellows hurt their ire they fed,
When ramping-fiercely on each others skull,
Down to the earth their carcasses they pull.
But now at length they have disseuered
These fighting brethren, and their swords up lay,
And every prince with him one brother led,
And parted thence unto a diverse way:
When home this burden soon they carried,
Whose teeth yet gnash that this their bloody fray
Was not full tried, and with venom swell
Gainst those that parted them, though doing well.
And still do egg these sworn friends to fight,
Stirring so long to strife their burning minds,
That though no cause they had of their despite,
Yet envy still some secret reason finds:
And they send challenges to try by might
Their strife, no longer league their friendship binds:
But like two bears that from a keeper scape,
Do waste the fields with massacre and rape.
Where we will leave to desolation,
Those whom fell discord doth so much increase:
And to
Pirino
will again be gone,
Who marched forward still in great pretence,
That Ladies service he would nere have done:
But he his formers sin shall recompense,
And ere I leave him (so I love your kind)
His heart and hands another way shall find.
After the shameless
Erofels
defeat,
When with the pilgrim Knight he ioynde his way,
They for adventures strangest paths do beat,
Searching out works of valor every day,
Whose haughty minds think nothing is so great,
But with their puissance they will ouerway:
About whose boldest hearts encircled was,
Strong mighty oke and thrice enfolded brass.
Not long they forreind, till on plain they spide
A woeful sight as ever eye beheld,
A Lady that on ground all wounded lide,
Fayrer then her the Sun hath viewed seld,
And more mishap did never dame betide:
For she to ground with ruthles blow was feld,
Like to the sweetest rose in harvest time,
Is mown down in youths most lusty prime.
They rested not until they to her came,
Upon whose eyes death seemeth to arrest:
And turning up their Alabaster frame,
Made death in love with them that loved death best:
But now those Knights did ransom fair the dame,
Barring her soul from such a heavy rest,
And up did bind the life dissolving wound,
Who wept in blood, that it on her was found.
But now
Pirino
quite his oth forgot,
And moved much with pity, more with love,
Down from his horse as light as wind he gate,
And from the ground her quickly doth remove,
Cursing the sword, the hand, and cursed fate,
That on this Lady cruelty did prove:
O who can tell what virtue hidden lies,
Within the charming of a Ladies eyes.
Now doth he wish that he the sword had been,
For to have kist that Ladies downy breast:
Or he were Balsamum to pour between
The lips of that broad wound: where sweetest rest
In beauties harvest yet looks ever green,
And would from stony hearts have tears expressed,
To see so fair a Lady foully vsde,
And that same beauty which such wrong abusde.
Forth do they go to find some resting place,
Where they her deep intrenched wound may dress,
While still
Pirino
musing on her face,
Studieth the astronomie of happiness,
Whose stars do lead unto the port of grace,
Where is invested perfect blessedness:
The stars of her sweet eyes where beauty plains,
That wrongful prison her in bonds detaines.
Forth do they carry her their purposde way,
While still she lieth dumb, no word doth flowe:
From out the Oracle where Beauty lay,
Silence in darkness all within doth go,
To keep her whom sharp pain holds for a pray,
Subdued to pinching grief and griesly woe:
That filthy dragon keeps the garden gate,
Where heavenly Roses flourished of late.
Now have they spied a castle from a far,
Whether with all their speed they forward make,
Meaning to make that heaven of this star,
That makes all heau'n where her bright beams do flake,
But ere unto the fort they arrived are,
A new adventure doth them overtake:
Four Knights do meet them with their drawn swords,
Whose edges on their annes act Tragic words.
Now on a bank the Lady down they set,
And to the battle do themselves address,
Where with outrageous blows each other beat,
And on their foemen do Reuenge impress:
At last one brustling in a furious heat,
Ran through his mate, whom he his foe did guess:
The other quiting him, they downward fell,
Their bodies to the earth, their souls to hell.
Where we will leave the other to their fight,
And of this Ladies woeful story tell:
And what misfortune brought her to this plight,
How to this gulf of misery she fell:
But think the whiles that to the pilgrim Knight,
Pirino
still his fight continues well:
And pray that he the victory may win
Here in this fray which they a fresh begin.
This Lady hath long time both lived and loved,
With a good Knight whose years were tender young,
Nor ever from his bosom she remou'd,
But like the Iuy still embracing long,
Who with like care his careful love approu'd,
And in the consort of her music song:
Clasping her with the twine of compassed arms,
While with his kisses he her fancy charms.
Chast and most strong his love did still remain,
And in her breast his flowring years he spent,
No time nor strife his spotles love could stain,
But still was pleased when she was content,
And would begin to mourn when she did plain,
Gri
•
uing on woe, joying on merriment:
One breath betwixt their kissing lips doth pass,
One only soul in two faite bodies was.
The sight of them could Enuies force abate,
And make her Isie hardness to relent,
Such love their interchanged thoughts begat,
As still to mutual joy their hearts were bent,
Within their breasts Love in his kingdom sat,
Minding to fill them with deep rauishment:
My thoughts scarce view, my words their love disgrace,
That for such heavenly things are far too base.
Thus each delighted with the others sight,
Would needs a solacing in progress ride,
Sometimes for fainting heat they would alight,
And gentle rest fast by a rivers side,
There cooled with the shade, while they delight
Their pleased eyes, when in the streams they spide
The silver river to reflect again
Each others look, and make their loves seem twain.
Sometimes down in a grove they would descend,
And print the grass with beauties brightest seal,
And with the bows a round fair garlonds bend:
Mingling in posies which their love reveal,
While to their ears the birds love-carrolls sent,
And still among the dove with groaning peal,
Doth seem to sound a farewell to his love,
Which fowlers hand did cruelly remove.
Thus do they spend the summer of their days,
Studying how each might work them most delight,
Until they came to these unlucky ways,
Where let black darkness stand and pitchy night,
And fearful Earthquake up huge mountains raise,
Renting the place that wrought these loves despite:
Let still fierce winter choke the dying spring,
And none but night-crows groaning scriches sing.
For hither when they came, a Knight they met,
That without challenge or a cause of hate,
Upon her Knight down blows full spiteful let,
And with his sword infring'd the precious gate
Which keeps the entrance to his senses seat,
Freeing his soul with this untimely fate:
Down on the luckles earth his bones do fall,
While Saints his soul in heaven do install.
Which when his Lady saw twixt rage and woe,
His sword she takes from out his loved hand;
And to her ruthles enemy doth go,
Offring with force that tirant to withstand,
But to her strong heart, weak arms answer no,
Telling they cannot such a weight command:
This while that cursed man with cruel blade,
Into her tender breast a deep wound made.
O heart so stony as the rocky mount,
On which fair
Rhodope
doth buried lie,
Which doth th'
Hircanian
Tigars far surmount
In blood and tirranizing cruelty:
That of sweet beauty makest so small account,
And couldst with that accursed flaming eye,
Behold a Lady thus most lovely fair,
Driuen to mighty woe and deep despair.
But O: he hears me not, for he is fled,
And with him carried her loving Knight,
While she twixt woe and grief is almost dead,
The fairest and the far most grieved wight
That ever heavenly beauty coloured,
In whom terrestrial shone diuinest light:
Her wound doth pierce unto her gored heart,
Yet then that wound she feels more wounding smart.
This cruel Knight was one that still did live
By rapine, and did rob each passenger:
Who, as he once with valiant Knight did strive,
Lost his left hand, when he did deeply swear,
That all the Knights he could to worser drive,
Should so be martird, thus he up doth rear
Within his fort a heap of ioynted hands,
That like a wall now raised lofty stands.
And this is he that with
Pirino
fought,
Thinking such victory of him to win:
But so the providence of heaven wrought,
That to repent his deeds he doth begin,
For now to conquest he is shameful brought,
And he that hath so proudly cruel been,
Lyes at the mercy of the victors hands,
Who lead him prisoner in unknown bands.
After this battle to the fort they go,
While still
Pirino
solaceth the Dame,
Hoping to dry the Ocean of her woe,
But now too late all comforts sun-shine came,
Griefe more resisted still the more doth grow,
And joy too slow goes ever halting-lame:
The clouds which dark the glory of her light,
Presage there still shall be black sorrows night.
Now to their lodging are they come at last,
Which was the castle where this tirant dwelt:
When straight his bloody triumphs forth they cast,
And now
Pirino
hath so careful dealt
That she is cured, but her sorrow past,
Can never be past which she so deeply felt:
While in a tomb she lays her loved Knight,
Whose view might banish thence all joys delight.
CANT. 8.
Pirino
with the Lady do addres,
To see fair
Bellamyes
sad funeral,
Her love is told, and how all comfortless,
For
Amians
sake in woe her heart doth fall:
Where black eclipsing of his radiant light,
Maskt her sweet soul in sorrows drery night.
O Who could give me Eagle soaring wings,
Or plumes of vapors to ascend on hye:
Which
Sol
exhaled to the heaven brings,
That I might see the true divinity,
Or view the Angel-thoughts, whose music sings
Unto heau'ns maker sweetest harmony:
There only could my thoughts the thought approve
Of thought-surpassing and diuinest love.
Which like
Arion
in the floating waves,
Can chaunt the Dolphins with his charming sounds,
And binds all base affections as slaves,
Which with celestial beauty it confounds,
Sweet-saluing balm which wounds dispayred saves,
Whose kingdom cannot suffer earthly bounds:
The cinosure of all our joys it is,
Which leads us through a world of haply bliss.
Which this fair Lady fully doth possess,
Raught with the thought of her deceased Knight,
And ever keeps her soul in heaviness:
Like to the Moon that must obscure her light,
When as the Sun his beauty doth repress,
Of whom she borrows beams of all delight:
Which buried in the sad Sepulchrall ground,
Down to the earth her captive thoughts hath bound.
Which when
Pirino
saw (whose words of joy
Still wooed sorrow to forsake her breast)
Knowing her Knights dear sight wrought this annoy,
Did counsel her to leave this idle rest,
Which still with musing thoughts did her accloy,
And travel forth where never should molest
Her quiet thoughts the spectacle of death,
Whose saddest sight the soul disquieteth.
She loath to leave that where her treasure lay,
Where she had buried thoughts of all delight,
Determines never to depart away:
But so
Pirino
sues by day and night,
That now she'le wander till a certain day,
Though sorry to remove from out his sight:
Whose tomb containd with him her dearest heart,
With whom in grave she left her better part.
The Sun appeareth in his bright array,
Of firy beams and golden-wreathed gown,
Meaning to cheare her with so fair a day,
Now having banished misty vapors down,
When forth they ride now settled in their way,
Flying the place whence all her woe was grown:
But though unto the farthest Indes thou fly,
Swifter then wind will sorrow after hie.
They had not gone as far as Scithian bow
Darts forth an arrow with his bended string.
Before they see where an old man doth go
As fast as dried bones his seete can bring:
Who ouertaking him whom age made slow,
Enquired whither he was travailing:
But deepest cares that reigned in his thought,
Had silence and black melancholy brought.
At last they rouzd him from his musing dream,
When of a Ladies death he gan a tale,
While down his cheeks doth rain a pearling stream,
From out the clouds of wrack and weary bale:
And this is
Algiger
that doth exclaim
Against our life, that still in woe doth fall:
Who like the luckles owl these many years,
Never but at some funeral appears.
And
Bellamy
was she whom ugly death
Hath covered with the graves untimely shade,
Her now in dusky bloome he manteleth,
That with her beams the world astonished made,
And on her corps his colors he displayeth,
Whose colors in too soon a harvest fade:
The weeds do grow and worser things suruiue,
While as the good are thought too long alive.
Pirino
like to
Dadals
winged son,
That from great heau'n fell to the lowest flood,
To sink in sorrows drery gulf begun,
And in his face doth care depaint in blood,
The victory he over him hath won,
Senceles with too much sense of grief he stood:
Until thus brake the clouds into a shower,
Which forth with drery tears he thus did pour.
O cursed earth go mask thee from the light,
Whose light is quenched that did make the day,
And let the spring no more with green bedight,
Adorned be with birds or Music lay,
For she in whose sweet face spring still did write
Her chiefest glory, now in sad decay,
Hideth the heavenly lamp of lovely grace,
And shadoweth from the earth her starry face.
Her tresses like the flakie beams of morne,
Sheueld along upon her snowie back,
That did the golden
Tagus
color scorn,
And dangling made behind a goodly track,
Those which have many harts in triumph borne,
And in loves sea have driven them to wrack:
These lie embraced of the basest ground,
Whose curly trains have many lovers bound.
Thus forth he drives his passion with his plaint,
When they agree to see her funeral,
Where we will leave them wearied and faint:
Pricking toward her woeful burial,
While I full deeply greeud will strive to paint,
The story of this ladies woeful fall,
And when my tears shall stop their weeping spring,
I will plain forth the tale I cannot sing.
When at the Dukes long time those thirty Knights,
Lay for to try who could obtain the prize,
Where with continual shows and pleasant sights,
They wooed the dear attention of her eyes:
One Knight there was whom she above all wights
Most dearly loved, whose image deeply lies,
Sealed below upon her softened heart,
From which his pressure never can depart.
Within the blessed heaven of her thought,
His comely face, the only star doth shine,
Whose beauty to her soul amazement brought,
That then her self a wight was more divine,
Like
Cinthia
when on
Latmus
top she spide
The sleeping shepherd lately dreaming lie'ne:
She is amazed at so great a grace,
And with sweet Mel-dew doth anoint her face.
No wind but
Amian
her ship doth blow,
Filling with pleasing breath fair beauties sails,
In which to happy Isles she means to go;
He bears the rule, and he so much prevails,
That now she doth not stick to let him know,
How his most grateful suite with her avails:
Who though with those sweet words in love he was,
Yet scarce for kisses could he let them pass.
She grants the garden where delight doth lie,
Which with chaste marriage they will seal anon:
And now she brings him roses by and by,
From which he wished never to have gone,
So sweet an air unto his smell doth fly,
That would with pleasure quite have overflown,
Drenching old aged bones in youthful dew,
And make the hoary man his days renew.
Like
Hibla
fields, where though Bees still do suck
The honey of delight and ravishing,
Yet in this fertile field remain to pluck
Heavenly posies, deeply solacing
Distressed minds which sharp misfortune struck,
And in thoughts winter doth vpreare the spring,
Whose verdant head shall never languish down,
But stand adorned with a flowery crown.
Which when the lothed wooers quickly found,
They did envy the happy chance he gate,
And ten of them in mighty challenge bound
His valiant heart to answer their debate,
Who now thus settled on so sure a ground,
Scorned the easy shafts of fruitless hate,
And sent them answer that next rising day,
He would control what envy durst to say.
But still fair
Bellamy
doth him entreat,
To shun the dangers of the bloody fight,
And doth his breast with sighs and groanings beat,
Enchasing with fair pearl her clowded sight,
Which drooping down her richest eyes beget,
And to his loving bosom take their flight,
When watering the plants that love doth sow,
They quickly made sweet lowly pity grow.
But he that had his vowed promise past,
With kisses still her opned lips doth stay:
She opneth still, he still his lets doth cast,
Sweet lets, which let him in where beauty lay,
That doubt it was whether she spoke so fast,
Because more kisses of him gain she may:
Or kisses seeming for to stop the door,
Still kist, because they would have kisses more.
Thus in this golden chain of purest love
They past the evening, when with rusty coach
The Raven-hud night her dusky train vphoue,
And grifly darkness doth on earth encroach,
The weary Sun his wagon doth remove,
Seeing the ugly night so near approach,
That from the furnace of her sooty throat,
Forth foggy vapors and black smoke vpshote.
Still
Bellamy
unlucky chance doth fear,
Warned with fatal noise of nightly foul:
Now doth she seem sweet
Amians
voice to hear,
Yeelding the lowly present of his soul
Unto his maker, when her heart doth rear
A swelling sigh his fortune to condole,
The mournful presage of some evil hap,
As lightning flames before a thunder-clap.
Thus in sad thought the silent night is spent,
When
Phoebus
gan vpreare his firy crest,
And had the eastern heaven with flames ybrent,
When straight doth
Amian
leave his quiet rest,
And armed to the place appointed went,
Where nine strong Knights that enmity professed,
He with his spear dismounted to the ground,
Where with disgrace an humble seat they found.
Like to a lofty rank of Cedar trees,
When
Aeolus
is kindled deep with rage,
And with a whirlwing up from earth he frees
Their riuen roots, now laid in equipage
With baser shrubs, while to the heaven flees
The roaring noise, ypent in iron cage
Of tumbling vapors that do scour the air,
Inuested highly in a cloudy chair.
Now
Bellamies
good heart for joy doth dance,
Driuing forth storms of sorrow and of care,
When the tenth Knight his spear did high advance,
That over all his armor
Cypres
ware,
Shadowing with clouds of grief his countenance,
Who now towards the Knight his palfrey bare:
Where meeting with a hideous shiuering stroke,
Their yielding spears in sprinkled dust they broke.
On foot they try what thus on horse doth fail,
Each other driving with a deadly blow,
And with their weapons kiss the splitted maile,
Which riuen, gushing blood in streams doth throw,
While now or never meaning to prevail,
Sir
Amian
drove unto his riuall foe,
And with his sword his entrails doth vnclose,
Whose soul up fled his earthly bowels doth lose.
Viewing the sword wherewith his riuall fought,
That on it written had his fathers name,
Whom with a charm from unknown land he brought,
He cuest himself with much unworthy blame,
That he this woeful Tragedie had wrought:
For well he knew his brother was the fame,
Whom with his wretched might he thus had slain,
To whom his father gave that hurtful gain.
Now horror ringeth in his grieved soul,
And guilt of thought that he his brother flew,
Where fearful fight his rest doth deep control:
Wherefore unto his palfrey he withdrew,
And doth to none his inward grief vnrole,
But to the woods all solitary flew,
Banishing any thought of pleasing mirth,
Or any joy which lighteth on the earth.
In leauy shadows and in bushie brakes,
He with the wood-dove groans for pinching woe:
Sometimes in hand his cursed sword he takes,
But straight his sword he from his hand doth throw,
Now in a bush a hollow nest he makes,
From whence he swares his feet shall never go:
Each little glimpse of light his soul doth shun,
And in despair to headlong death doth run.
But how fair
Bellamy
doth rue his case,
Plaining and seeking him that her forgot,
Is deeply graven in her parched face,
Which doth not lighten as it did of late,
Earth-brightning beams of never-matched grace:
But frowning with the force of angry fate,
Down drooping doth she close her folded eyes,
Drowning themselves in their own Nectaries.
And everywhere to seek him out she sends,
Whom never shall again her eyes behold:
Wherefore despayring now her thoughts she bends,
Fixt on th'ldea of his heavenly mold,
And to her mind that only food she lends,
While from her body rest she doth withhold,
And still her beauty doth consuming pine,
Wasting those torches which are so divine.
Like as the sweetest Querister of Night,
When rau'ning fowl berest her of her young,
While
Phoebe
sends from high her cloudy light,
Unto the Moon in chanting tunes she sung,
That ravishing the traveler with delight,
Made him bewail the birds disproferd wrong:
So doth each eye lament this woeful plaint,
Which beauty makes while she in woe doth faint.
But O my pen transform thy swanny face,
And in eternal streams my inck shall weep:
Driue madly down thy coach in tumbly pace,
O thou which heavens mighty lights dost keep,
That never beams may brighten any place,
Since she in never-ending dream doth sleep:
O
Bellamy
that now untimely dies,
And in sad tomb deaths cruel triumph lies.
The fearful thought of her dear loved Knight,
Eats on her heart consuming vital heat,
That taking in the world not lest delight,
She with her hands that softest breast doth beat,
And vexeth still with grief her woeful spright,
Who weary of so much uneasy seat,
To heaven on her snowy pineons fled,
Wherein
Ioues
breast she lays her quiet head.
Now came the Knights that dwelt removed far,
To see the burial of this Angel wight:
The Sun arose with his low drooping carre,
To see (though grieu'd to see) that woeful sight:
And
Pirin
with the dame ariued are,
And
Cypribel
her tomb forsaketh quight,
Prepar'd all to do honor to her grave,
The latest honor now her corps could have.
Where with such rites as love and wit devise,
Which might renew a story to express,
She was entombed in most glorious wise,
Accompanide with number numberless,
While fountains overflow the Dukes sad eyes,
That now for lack of tears to weep do cease:
Faine would he in her arms his death-bed see,
That in two heavens he and his soul might be.
But envious fates resist his loving will,
Who do command his soul here to remain,
Where with lamenting noise she plaineth still,
Yet never can her plaints bring back again
That soul, which mounted on Olympus hill,
In sacred spirits and the Muses train,
Singing soul-pleasing tunes her days doth spend,
Whose music and whose days have never end.
And now ye heavens, if ever Music strain
Issued from a concord-moving sphere,
Then in a doleful language help to plain,
And mourning part in sorrows consort bear:
For never shall you have like cause again,
For never may the like on earth appear:
And for her death ring out a doleful knell,
While dewy tears at every stroke distill.
And ye fair Ladies in a pilgrimage,
Attiring blushing white in mourning black,
Until the world shall end his endless age,
Go to her tomb, and plain her beauties wrack,
Raught from the earth by deaths vnsatiate rage:
And though your tears can never bring her back,
Kissing her tomb, to
Libitina
pray
The earth may easy on her bosom lay.
Where with the parbreake of vnclowded hell,
Night wraps in ruggy black the airs dark face,
Still vomiting fro her defiled Cell,
The shadowy fumes that mought the light disgrace,
While scriching Owls their fearful stories tell,
Hoarsly complaining in that gloomy place,
Groning with hollow notes their dismal song,
While trembling tunes to guilty hearts they rung.
The wolves about that haples place do cry,
And howling weep for her that lieth slain:
Sometimes in hollow fearful harmony
The Harpyes do a dumpish consort strain:
Sometimes it seems they see some passing by,
That on a beer a carcass do sustain,
While meager Death with hells vnchained hags,
Upon her grave display their pitchie flags.
The Conclusion of all.
THese have I sent unto the Muses hearse,
Whose days of honor now have found an end,
To spread therewith this my latest verse,
Whom the unworthy world too much offend.
Nor yet because some change-affecting brain
Debas'th the Muses and their sacred hill:
Fault I myself as having writ in vain,
Know he I only love the Music skill.
But whether he delight in feats of arms,
Or prouder vaunt the glory of his race,
Know he I fear not Martial alarms,
Nor yield a step his friendship to embrace,
Though now in shade I whisper to the wind,
And plain the Muses can no harbor find.
FINIS.