University of Virginia Library

CANTO I.

When dreadful Mars in Armor every day
Lov'd stately Juno and Bellonia best,
Before he knew the Court where Venus lay,
For then he took himself to ease and rest;
When all his Thoughts unto the proof were steel'd,
And all his Actions manag'd in the field.
A Knight of his (a worthy English man)
That went like him, clad in an Iron Coat,
In Warwick, with the worlds applaud began
To be a man of admirable note:
Such was the Valour he ascended by,
That Pagans trembled at the Name of Guy.
This man compos'd of courage, full of sprite,
Of hard adventures, and of great designs.
To fight with Giants took a chief delight,
Or search some Cave that Monster undermines;
Meet with a Boar to make a bloody fray,
Or combat with a Dragon by the way.
Yet ere he entertain'd his Love to Arms,
He grew devoted to the Queen of Love,
Attempting Beauties Fort with fierce Alarms,
The victory of such a prize to prove,
As elder times before could ne're injoy;
A sweeter face than lost old Priam Troy.
Fair Phælice, equal match to Cupid's Mother;
A curious creature, and the Kingdoms pride;
All spacious Britain had not such another,
For glorious beauty, and good parts beside:
'Twixt her and Vulcan's wife no odds were known,
But Venus had a Mole, and she had none.
For most directly she had Venus hair,
The same high fore-head, and attractive eye:
Her cheeks of Roses mixt with Lillies fair;
The very lips of perfect Coral-dye:
Ivory teeth, a dainty rising chin,
A soft touch, pleasing, smooth, and silken skin.
With all perfections made a peerless Creature
From head to foot, she had them every one:
Mirrour she was of comeliness and feature,
An English Phænix, supreme fair alone:
Whom gazing peoples censures thus would grace,
Beauty lives no where but in Phælice face:
In Phælice face (this object of Guy's sight)
Where looks of love, and glances of disdain,
From thence sometimes his eyes attract delight,
From thence anon his heart depriveth pain.
One while sweet smiles do give encouragement,
Another time stern looks work discontent.
Thus on Love's Seas, tost by the storms of terrour,
'Twixt present calm, and sudden furious blast;
Resolving love, yet finding love in error,
In freedom chain'd, in liberty bound fast;
He sighs that fortune doth so strangely deal,
To give a wound that Beauty will not heal;
That Beauty will not heal (quoth he) fond man,
Thou wrong'st thy self, and thy fair Goddess too;
By looks to know a womans heart who can?
And look on her is only all I do:
I'le take another course more resolute,
To speak, to write my honest meaning suit.
But if I should be so, what hope have I
That she will hear my words, or read my lines
She is Earl Roband's heir, and born too high
To condescend unto my poor designs:
Though I a Gentleman by birth am known,
Earldoms I want, and Lordships I have none.
O! Women are ambitious out of measure,
They mount aloft upon the wings of pride;
And often match more for this worldly Treasure,
Than any loving cause on earth beside;
Which makes some wish rather there were no gold,
Than love for it should base be bought and sold.
If such she be (as not be such is rare)
What will my words, or sighs, or tears prevail?
I enter then a Labyrinth of care,
And strive against both wind and tide to sail:
A restless stone with Sisyphus I roul,
And heap continual torments on my soul,
Then I attempt to fly with waxen wings,
Where Phœbus Chariot burns in brightest flame;
And shall be censur'd, that in childish things,
As Love, I have begot eternal shame:
Rejected and despis'd, in base esteem
To th' envious world, I shall no better seem.
But cease, Loves coward, banish thoughts of fear,
Be resolute, and good success attend thee;
Phælice of force a loving heart must bear;
If he that shoots love-darts of gold befriend thee,
And by no reason he can be thy foe,
Because thou lov'st his mothers picture so.
I am resolv'd: Go on to Phælice Bower,
And from as true a heart as flesh can yield,
Intreae her hear me in a blessed hour;
And with kind pity all my sorrows shield;
To look upon me with remorse of mind,
That holds my lift as her love is inclind.
This said, to Warwick Castle he repairs,
Where the rich Jewel of his heart remain'd;
Earl Robamd bids him welcome, and prepaers
With hunting-sports to have him entertain'd:
But thereunto unwilling ear he lends,
And sudden sickness for excuse pretends.
The Earl much grieved at this alteration,
Sent his physician for to do him good;
Who told Guy, that his only preservation,
Consisted in the present letting blood:
And that his body in distemperature,
Was difficult and very hard to cure.
Doctor (quoth Guy) 'tis true I know as much,
I find my self to be exceeding ill;
But there's a flower, which if I might but touch,
Would heal me better than thy physick's skill:
'Tis called by a pretty pleasing name,
And Phælix soundeth somewhat near the same.
Quoth the Physician, Sir, I know it not,
Nor in the Herbal read of such a flower:
Yet in this Castle it is to be got;
Said Guy, it grows not far from yonder Tower.
I'le find it out my self, Doctor refrain,
Galen ne're had the Art to cure my pain.
Left in this passion to converse with moan,
As in a window he did sighing lye.
In a delightful Garden all alone,
The Emp'ress of his thoughts he did espy;
Which to his soul did much rejoycing bring,
Fear was depos'd, and Hope was Crowned King.
Now is the time (quoth he) fair Fortunes Sun
Shines favourable on my gloomy cares:
Now may I end the grief that love begun,
And boldly ask good hap, how well she fares:
Now will I enter into yonder shade,
To court the worlds admired Beauteous Maid.
Phælice I come, assist me (Cupid) now,
Prepare an Arrow ready for thy bow:
I never went a wooing: Teach me how
Good action (with good speech) I may bestow:
But above all things, gentle Cupid move her,
That she believe me, when I swear I love her.
With speed unto the Garden then he goes,
Where one of Phælice Damsels let him in;
And in a curious Arbour of repose,
Finds Cytherea with her silver skin:
Whom he salutes with Grace and Majesty.
Beholding her with Love's inchanting eye.
Fairest (quoth he) of all the works in Nature,
Whose Equal never breath'd this common air,
More wonderful than Earth can yield a creature,
For every part belonging unto fair;
Immortal Creature of Cœlestial frame,
Eternal honour still attend thy Name
I come to thee about the like poor suit,
That once Leander came to Hero with,
Hoping thereby to reap more lovely fruit
Than Mars attain'd when he deceiv'd the smith.
'Tis only Love that I with heart present;
'Tis only Love must give my soul content.
Incline (sweet Lady) to my humble motion;
Compassionate the grief that I endure.
Regard my life that rests at thy devotion,
With pity take my dying heart in cure:
O let it not in groaning torment swell!
And break in twain, because it loves thee well.
Great Princes love thee, this I knew before,
And deeds of honour for thy Name have done;
But neither King nor Prince can love thee more
Than doth poor Guy, thy Fathers Stewards Son;
His love to thee is so inestimable,
To countervail it all, they are not able.
Phælice thus interrupts his Protestation:
No more of Love, cease gentle Youth (quoth she)
I have a mind fram'd of another fashion,
Virginity shall live and die with me:
Love is compos'd of idleness and play,
And leadeth unto vain delights that stray:
Besides it ill beseems thee, be so bold,
Inferiour and unfit for my degree;
And if unto my Father this was told,
I know it would procure reproof to thee:
That proverb in this point might make thee wife,
That Princely Eagles scorn the catching Flies:
And with this answer she departed thence,
Leaving poor Guy more vexed than before:
For now in deep despair of recompence,
He never doth expect Love's comfort more;
But unto sorrow, sighs and tears doth give,
Wishing each day the last he had to live.