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Caput. XIII.

Argument.

Upoune the sleiping Toumbe the Prince
His trauells seis ingrapht
He seis Laissa their ye sword
He from the rock out rest
A spreit or feind of Hell he meitts
Vpoune Danubius fair
That in the shap of Mayd him leids
To paine, wol greif, and cair.

1

No sonner goldin Phebus guilds the skyes
And shoots furth fyrie beam's throw emptie air
Wheas the Prince vp frō the grasse does ryse
And in his hairt a thousand thoughts repair
His courage fled he doubts, he fant's, he fears
Floods from his eyes send stream's of sylver tears,

2

Kynd was his hairt tho not resolu'd to loue
Cairfull his mynd her lyfe for to preserue
Constantin kyndnes did he alwayes proue
Courtes and cairfull Ladies fan to serue
His hairt a throne for beauties excellence
If airt witheld not Natures influence.

3

At last to the desyred toumbe he came
Which seem'd not to be wrought with humane hands
So riche so rair so wounderfull the same
Which on four syluer shynning Pillers stands
Of beattin gold so pure fair, cleir, and bright
Whoes shynning seem'd to skorne fair Phebus light.

4

And round about him self he might behold
His traeull's throw the birning caue, it shew
No painting colours beautified the gold
Bot Emiralds, Pearls, Rubies, Saphirs blew
Which lyuelie shoes each purtrat & eache pairt
So comelie nature helped courious airte.

5

Their was the purtrat of the Sulphure flamme
In birning Charbunkles and manye a ostone
Whoes glanceing light agains the Sune furthe cam
Lyk sparklying fyre that flam'd that brint that shone
Ther where the Gyant feld him to the ground
And caried him through all the caue a sound.

6

A crimsone blush a pourple dy our spred
His louely face and made him hing his eyes
Shame, raige, reuenge, wraith, furie, anger bred
He loths him self he freats he froun's, he fry's
He thinks these purtrats in despight wer shorne
To show him self vnto him self in skorne.

7

But looking farther of he did espy
There wheir The Gyaunt threwe him to the ground
And how he role agane with maiestie
Giuing at once his foe his fatall wound.
Eache purtrat their to pleas his eye contends
And seem'd for former faults to mak amends

8

There all the rest of this his longsum wark
Wer fynly graph'd in pretious stones and gold
The which frome point to point he did remark
And their his woundrous valour might behold
Bot lynes effrayed his hairt, his eyes, his ears
He feirs to reid yet reids and reids with tear's.
All is in vaine all labour is for nought
Frome Mansayes charmeing spells can non defend
In vaine her lyfe in vaine releif thou sought
In ending of her pain her lyfe did end
Thow casd her pain and crewell death did send
This is the fruct of all thy trauels past
Thow wrought her death her death to the shall send.

Greif, sorow, cair wo shame, disgrace at last
Set is thy Sune with clouds of shame or'e cast
Spent is thy lamp of glorie praise & fame
Thy honor fades dishonor buddeth fast
And blossoms beirs of wo, disgrace, and shame
Thy glories doone praise dead & fame outworre
Go then of heaune, of earth, of hell, the skorne

9

Eune as when fearfull dreams in slumbring sleip
Wold mack a man to shout, to cal, to cry
Whil fear and horrour ou'r his senses creip
Yet speiechles, sightles, mightles does he ly
So now it seem'd the Prince was in a traunce
And greatlie troubled in his countenance.

10

Thus drunk with sadnes and deuoyde of ioy
Amaizd he stoode bereft of speich and sence
Dounwarde he casts his looks with sad anoy
Greif sorow cair wold lyfe haue chaiced thence
Oft did he wishe the solid earthe to ryue
And hyd his shame, by swallowing him alyue.

11

But waiking from this dreaming sleip at last
His loftie witts agane together flies
When as his roaling eyes by chaunce he cast
Aboue the toumbe the which he oppin seis
As Seaman in a raiging storme of wind
At glaid the land and wished shore to find.

12

So glaid he was hoping to find releefe
That sorow's past might haue a happie end
Wheirfore to eas his cair, his paine, his greif,
A loft vnto the toumb his looks he send
Wheir hope with dreid, & dreid with hope made weir
He feird in ioy, & ioyde in mids of feir

13

For their Laissa fair he might behold
Nay not Laissa bot Penardo rather
For eu'ne the sharpest eye could not vnfold
The meinest mark of difference tuixt ether
And thus not glade whill her he oftin light's
But eu'ne him self to sie him self delight's

14

As that fond boy that gaizd into the wel
Wheirin he sies the shaddow of his face
And being deip inamoured of him sell
Oft looks and oft the image wold embrace
So in her face as in a glas or well
He lou'd the only image of him sell

15

She sat vpone a bensh of glanceing g'old
And lein'd her louelie face vpon her hand
Bright look'd her eyes wheir loue & fancie rold
But lo no spunk of aer nor breath he fand
Yet was her colour lyuelie fair and cleir
A sylver tinctour in her cheeks appeir.

16

He cald her oft and nam'd her by her name
First soft, then lowd, then whispred in her eare
But yet no show of heiring made the Dame
Nor anie signe of lyfe could once appeer
Wheirfore sad sorow sheltred all his ioy
And horried paine his pleasour did distroy.

17

And ean this be (quod he) and art thow dead?
And has the worlde her cheifest glorie lost
Could not my pains thy dearest lyfe remead
Oh no, no pains, of noght but shame I bost
O shame, O fame, shame brings eternall foyle
Shame shall my fame disgrace, my glorie spoyle.

18

Oh could my lyfe, thy lyfe (deir lyfe) redeeme
Soone should it by discharged from this breist
Or wold the heauns so much my soule esteeme
That heir it might dislodge and their might rest
Or that but sinne my luck les lyfe might smairt
I to thy ghost wold sacrafeize my hairt.

19

Oh but the faits denyes I sould haue pairt
Of thy sweit ioyes, and heauns denyes my bliss
That their fearce wraith may mak me more to smairt
For this my fault, my iniurie, my mis
Curs'd by the spreitt that me deceaued twyce
With visions dreams, temptatioune, fantasyes.

20

Curs'd be the tyme I put this armour on
Curs'd be the toung that me their to intys'd
Curs'd be the hands that fram'd the same alone
Curs'd be the witt that armour first deuys'd
Curs'd be the spreitts the feinds the furies fell
That built this house of shame, of death, of hell.

21

And with the word his birning eyes did roll
And shoot furth fearfull flamms & sparkling fyre
Dispight raige furie madnes did controle
Witt, reasone, shamefast modesties desyre
Wyldlie he lookd, he staird, he gaizd about
Raige hade his witt, and reason quyt put out.

22

Then of his helme and armour did he teir
Which in his furious raige he threw away
Quod he I am not woorthie airm's to beir
If this be all my conquest all my prey
Of simple mayds the blameles lyfe to tack
Heaune, earth yea hell it self, abhors the fact

23

Let brightest heaunes a sable hew vnfold
Let grasse and hearbes be withert wheir I goe
Let Sunne and Moone in duskie clouds be rold
Loathing to shyne shameing my faults to shoe
Which sould be wrapt in black eternall night
In hell in paine in horrour and despight.

24

Thus from the toumb he goes furth throw the plaine
And wanders far and wounders at him sell
He seiks the flamming rok but all in vaine
That led him first vnto that feild of hell
Their to gett out but none saue Mansay knew
That fearfull caue, and his infernall crew.

25

This valley's walld about by Natures airt
With mightie craiges, steip rocks, and montanes hie
Except the caue their is no entring pairt
Which by that flamming fyre defend it bee
Their set by Mansayes art but now the Prence
The craigs, rocks, montans, climbs, & flieth thence,

26

While this braue youth torments his mightie mynd
With wo, dispair, cair, sorow, greif, and paine
A marble rock his roling eyes out fynd
Wheir in he sies a glaunceing sword remaine
The sword half in the rock, a sheild besyde
And vnderneth sum verses he espyid.

27

But in his furie he disdaind to reid
Which efter was the caus of all his greif
For from these verses did his health proceid
His hope, his hape, his ioy, and his releif
Yet from the rock the sword & sheild he taks
The which, he cutts, he beats, he bowes, he breaks.

28

This was his sword and sheild which he did leaue
Behind when Lechers birning forte he wane
No weapins now he cairs, nor none did craue
He goes he knowes not why, nor wheir, nor when
Nor stands, nor sits, nor rests in any place
Till Phœbus tuyce had sunck, tuyce showne his face.

29

At last he comes vnto that rolling floode
Heght Danubie whoes tumbling billowes roir
His murmring streams in heaps yik montanes shood
To shoulder from his place the craggie shoir
Discharging Surges throw the clifted rocks
With thundring noyes the fearfull crage he Shoks.

30

Eune as that mightie yrone ingyne strong
His bellie being fild with sulphure broune
Casts furth a flamming smookie cloud along
With fyrie balls that touns and towr's throw doune
And fills the aer with noyes of roaring thunder
The heauns with lightning & the earth with wounder

31

Eune so this mightie flood with hiddeous swye
Of surges great beats doune his brokin shoirs
And ow'r the fertill land does swiftlie flie
His sounding streams throw humid aer that roirs
Heir stayd the Prince and heir heis forc'd to stand
Till he espyes vpon the syluer strand.

32

A litle bairge that fleitted nigh the place
The which a Damosell a lone did guyde
Bright was her colour louelie was her face
But sorowfull her countenance he spyde
Leauing her barck she quikly to him drew
And sighing sayd those lynes which doeth Insew.

33

Ah vofull miser wretched cre'ture I
Wo, Paine, and death, greif, sorow, cair, I find
Long haue I gone long sought sum Knight to try
Yet nere the neirer to my iourneyes end
Ah my poore Lady dies for paine & greif
Ow'rcum but caus and vanquisht but releif.

34

Altho the Prence was full of woe and cait
Yet for to heir of Ladies ouerthrow
Did his old paine the sorow he gott air
Reneue augment Inc ess, and caus ouerflow
So does grein wounds their bleidding stensht & gone
The mynd once vexd, againe they ryue anone.

35

And thus he said fair Lady if you please
The caus of this your greif I pray you show
To greif (in trubled mynds) it is ane ease
The same t'vnfold or pairtners for to know
Wrongs blaizd abroade will seeldom skaipe reproofe
On gaind sum hope sum confort sum releif.

36

Fair sir (quod she) my wrong, my hope, is done
Wrong past releif and hope is turnd dispair
And thogh of ayde my comfort al is gone
Yet ile vnfold a verie world of cair
Tears stop'd her braith, such cunning could she frame
Now reid, now pale, her colore, went, and came.

37

Thus silent did the Lady stay a whyle
And sigh'd and grond at last from craftie mynd
She breath'd a souggred lye a craftie guyle
A fals deceat sprung of malicious kynd
Yet could she weell dissemble her fayned feirs
With bashfull blushe, with grones, with sighes, & tears

38

And thus begane, In Transalpina fair
Their regn'd a Prince that bold Euphrastes heght
Who went with Datians to that luckles warre
Of Greece their slaine by proud Thessaliane might
He left no Heyre his sceptour for to hald
But his fair wyfe the fair Philena cald

39

So young, so wyse, so verteous, and so fair
All Regiouns fild wer with her glorious fame
So excellent in all perfectiones rair
That Monarches, Kings and Prences, swed the dame
And wow'd, her, sought her, loud her, yet still fynd
That none could proue or moue, or match her mynd.

40

At last fame singes her beautie sounds her worthe
In th' ears of Antiochs braue Prince anone
The round, the sad and solide globe sought furthe
Apollo shynd not on a brauer one
His might, his strength, his woorth, his val'rous deids
Alcmenas fearce vnconquered Sone exceids.

41

Fame Rendled so this Prince with hote desyre
Which to Philænas loue did him prouock
That nather could he eeas, nor quenshe the fyre
Which death ordaind both loue and lyfe to chock
But to our court he come ane errant Knight
And saw her fair, and seing loud the fight.

42

He serud her long and by his valour wrought
Deids of great wounder, woorthe eternall fame
And for his due rewaird of her he sought
Her loue, her fauour, maryage was his ayme
She no les brunt with loues consumeing fyre
Yeilds to his sute consents to his desyre.

43

At last that day, cursd day wnhappie yeir
When loues vnsein delight and beauties treasure
The fortres which all wemen holds most deir
She should haue randred he receaud with pleasure
Eune that same day with strēgth, with might, & stryfe
Sheis carred thence and he bereft of lyfe.

44

By tuo strong gyants mightie fearce and bold
Which Maro fearce and Bramarano heght
That does ow'r Creitt their crewell scepter hold
Which they haue won by murther, bloode, and feght
Her beautie fame vnto their ears hade soundit
Wheir by proud Bramaranos hart was woundit.

45

This Bramarano sone to Maro is
Who hearing of Philenas wedding day
Come with his Syre and feftie Knights of his
While she (poore soule) was but ane easie prey
For all the court in pompe in ioy in stait
Had nether sword shield armis nor feard deceat.

46

Thrie scoir and more into this wofull broyle
Wer slaine and their the Prince of Antioch fell
Whoes onlie valour long with stude this spoyle
Seune airmed Knights he slew vnarm'd him sell
On Bramaranos sword at last he smairted
O crewell death, o Tyrant crewell hairted.

47

This woefull murther wrought, they thence remoue
Philæna fair, with trauell paine and toyle
Nor could her car, her greif, her sorow, moue
Their harts to pitie, nor their hands from spoyle
But Bramarano would haue rapt the prey
Which eye should not behold, nor tongue bewray.

48

And yet withe tear's with murninge, and complaint
His hairt by Nature furious, fearce, and crewell
She mou'd on this conditione to relent
Tho loue still brunt, and lust still fond the fewell
Where noghtbut beautie breideth loues desyre
Lust feids the flamme and booldith stil the fyre.

49

He was content if in tuo months she could
Find out a knight to vanquish him in fight
Vnto her formar libertie she should
Be set and he should quyt discharge his right
Prouyding if no Knight with stoode his stryfe
She should remaine his Concubine or wyfe

50

And now tuo tyms has swartishe Cynthia shynd
Tuyce showin her spherick face with borrowed light
And tuyce agane to horned shape declynd
Since I frome fair Philena took my flight
To find sum Knight, sum Champione, or sum Lord
That wold to hit his happie ayde afford.

51

Yet haue I fund not one that hade regaird
To honor glorie fame or dignitie
Altho she geues her self for their rewaird
Who conquere shall so fearce ane Enemie
And now no more but full tuo weiks remains
Of the appointed tyme which he ordains.

52

Thus haue yow hard the somme and heill effect
Of all my toyle, my trauell, and my paine
Sure then quod he it seem's that yow neglect
To find a Knight or els no Knights remaine
Bot if the heau'ns so pleas or it be long
I shall abaitt his pryde, reuenge her wrong.

53

Thanks sir quod sho, your great good will I sie
But lo yow laick both armour sword and sheild
I was but knighted now of lait quod he
And swoor to wear none till I wan't in feild
Why then quod she if our reuenge ensue
The heaun's has smyld and I haue done my due.

54

The Prince and she both enters in the bairge
But heaun's preserue him from that deculishe traine
Which falslie is deuys'd for him at lairge
To worke his shame, his fall, his death, his paine
Who ou'r that great Danubius is gone
A companeid with fals deceat alone.
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