The tryumphes of Fraunces Petrarcke translated out of Italian into English by Henrye Parker ... The tryumphe: of Loue. Of Chastitie. Of Death. Of Fame. Of Tyme. Of Diuinitie |
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[The Tryumphed Loue] |
 | The tryumphes of Fraunces Petrarcke |  |
[The Tryumphed Loue]
The first Chapter of the Tryumphe of Loue.
In the tyme of the Renewinge of my suspyresBy the swete remembraunce of my louely desyres
That was the begynnynge of soo longe a payne
The fayre Phebus the bull dyd attayne
And warmyd had the tone and tother horne
Wherby the colde wynter stormes were worne
And Tytans chylde with her frostye face
Ran from the heate to her aunciente place
Loue, grefe, and complaynt, oute of reason
Had brought me in such a case that season
That myne eyes closed, and I fell to reste
The very Remedye to such as be oppreste
And there on the grene, as I reposed fast
Sodenly me thought, as I myne eyes vp cast
I sawe afore me a maruelous great lighte
wherin as well comprehend then, I myghte
Was doloure ynough wyth smale sporte & play
And thus in my dreame musyng, as I laye
I sawe a great Duke victorious to beholde
Tryumphyng on a chayre, shynyng as golde
Muche after the olde auncient sage wyse
That the bolde Romayns vsed in there guyse
When to the Capytoll the vyctors were brought
With right riche Robes curiously were wrought
I that such sightes was not wont to se
In this noyous worlde wherein I fynde me
Uoyde from the olde valure & yet more in pryde
Dyuerse men wyth straunge and queynte arraye
Not vsyd amonge vs at this present daye
Which made me wonder what persōs thei shuld be
As one glad to learne, and some new thinges to se
There sawe I a boye on a firye chayre on hyghte
Drawen with foure coursers all mylke whight
Wyth bowe in hande and arrowes sharpe & keene
Against whome no shylde nor helme so sheene
Myght in no wyse the mortale stroke wythstand
When he shote wyth his most dreadfull hande
To this also a straunge sight to se
Two wynges vpon his shoulders had he
wyth coloures more then I can wryte or tell
A thousande dyuers this I noted well
And all the rest were nakyd to the skynne
Aboute the chayre where that this boye was in
Some laye there deade gapynge on the grounde
Some with his dartes had taken meny a wound
Some were prysoners and could not scape away
But folowed styll the chayre nyght and day
I that sawe this wonderfull straunge sight
To know what it mente, dyd that I myght
Tyll at the last I dyd perceaue and se
My selfe to be amonge that company
So had loue led me on that dawnce
That as it lyked her, so must I take the chawnce
I then among that great number in that place
Lokyng here and there in eche mannes face
Yf any of myne Acquayntaunce I coulde se
But none was there except perchaunce that he
By age or death or payne was chaunged quyte
Wyth folowing that great kyng in that houre
That is the grounde and cause of all dolowre
Thus all astonied as I loked here and there
All sodenly afore me then dyd there appeare
A shadowe much more sadde for to regarde
Than all the reste that I had sene or harde
This sayd shadowe called me by name
And sayd by loue is gotten all this fame
Whereat I marueyled and sayde to hym agayne
How knowest thou me, to learne I wold be faine
For who thou arte I doo not knowe at all
So wonderous derke is here this ayre and all
That I can nether perceaue nor yet well se
What man thou art nor whence yt thou should be
To that anone this shadowe to me sayde
I am thy frende thou nedest not be dismayde
And borne in Toscane where yu was borne perdye
Thyne auncient frende if that thou lyst to se
His wordes whiche that I knewe by dayes paste
By his speche, I knewe hym at the last
All though his face, I coulde not then well se
And thus in talkyng together went we
And he beganne and thus to me dyd saye
It is right longe and thereto many a day
That I haue loked the my frynde to se
Amonge vs here in this our companye
For thy face was to me a token playne
That ones thou shouldest know loues payne
To whome I made aunswere and sayde
These wordes by me they cannot be denayde
But the sorowe the daunger and the dreade
So put me in feare, that I left all asyde
Leste that my seruyce should be cleane denyde
Thus sayd I and when he well perceyued
Myne entention and my wordes conceyued
Smylynge he sayde what flame of fyre
Hath loue kyndled in thy hartys desyre
I vnderstode then lytle what he ment
For his wordes vnto my heade then went
As fyrme and fast sure set anone
As they had bene prynted in a marbell stone
And thus for the newe game that I begane
I prayde hym tell me of verie gentlenes than
What people these were that afore me went
He aunswered bryfely to myne intente
That I should knowe what they should be
And be shortly one of theyr companye
And that it was my destany and lotte
That loue shoulde tye for me such a knotte
That I shoulde fyrst chaunge my heade to graye
Or that I coulde vnclose that knot away
But to fulfyll thy yonge desyre sayth he
I shall declare what kynde of men they be
And fyrst of the capteynes of them all
His maner playne declare the I shall
This is he that loue the worlde doth name
Bytter as thou shalt well conceyue the same
And much the more when the tyme shall be
That thou shalt be amonge this companie
A meke chylde in his lustye yonge age
And in elde one all full of rage
Well knoweth he that thys hath prouyd
Thy selfe shall well see and vnderstand
What a maister thou hast then in hande
This god hath his fyrst byrth of ydelnes
Noryshed with mankyndes foly and wantones
And of vayne thoughtes plesaunt and swete
To a sage wyse man nothynge mete
Callyd a god of the people most vayne
All be it he geueth for theyr rewarde and payne
Some the death forthwyth out of hande
Some alonge tyme in miserye to stand
To loue I say them that loues not hym
Fast tyed and fetred both cheke and chynne
Nowe haue I declared to the this goddes feste
Nowe wyl I tell the in order of the reste
Hym that thou seest that so lordely doth go
And leadeth wyth hym his loue also
It is the valeaunte Cesar, Iulius
Wyth hym is quene Cleopatra the beutiouse
She tryumphes of hym and that is good ryghte
That he that ouercame the worlde by myght
Should hymselfe ouer commen be
By his loue euen as thou mayest se
The next vnto hym is his sonne deare
The great Augustus that neuer had peare
That louyde more iustly then Cesar playne
By request hys Lynya he dyd obtayne
The thyrde is the dyspytefull tyraunte Nero
That furyously as thou seest doth go
And yet a woman hym ouercame
Wyth her regardes Lo she made hym tame
Beholde the same, is the good Marcus
Full of phylosophy both the tounge and breste
Yet for Fausteyn he standeth as at reste
The tother two that stand hym by.
That loke both twayne so fearefullye
The tone is Denyse the tother Alexander
That well was rewarded for his slaunder
The tother was he that soore complayned
Under Autander wyth teares vnfayned
The death of Crensa and toke awaye
The loue from hym as the poete doth saye
That toke from Enander his sone deare
Among the rest thou mayest se hym here
Hast thou harde euer reason heretofore
Of one that neuer would consent more
To hys stepmothers foull and shamefull desires
But flye from her syght and her attyres
But wo alas that same chast honest mynde
Was his death as thou mayst playnely fynde
Because she chaunged hyr loue vnto hate
Phedra she hyght that caused the debate
And yet was it hyr owne Death also
A sore punyshment vnto both them two
To the sens that deceyued Adryan
Wherefore it is full often founde than
That one that blameth another parde
He hymselfe is more to blame then he
And who so he be wythouten any doubte
That by fraude or crafte doth go aboute
Another that trusteth hym for to beguyle
Yt is good reason that wyth that selfe wyle
He be seruyd wyth that same sawse
This is he the famouse worthy knyght
That betwyxt two systers standeth vpryghte
The tone by hym was cruelly slayne
The tother his loue in ioye dyd remayne:
He that goeth with hym in the route
It is Hercules, the stronge, fierce, and stoute
That loue caused to folowe hyr daunce:
The tother whiche in louynge had hard chaunce
It is Achylles the Greke so bolde
That for Polexemes loue dyed, as it is tolde.
There mayst thou see also Demophone
And Phylys hys loue, that sore dyd mone
Hys absence, wherby that she dyed.
Lo those that stande vpon the tother syde
Is Iason, and Medea that for his loue
Deceaued hyr father his trueth to proue
The more vngentle is Iason in dede
That gaue hyr suche rewarde for hyr mede.
Hysyphyle foloweth and she doth wayle also
For the barbarouse loue was taken hyr fro
Next in ordre there commeth by and by
He that hath the name moost excellently
Of bewtye, and with hym commeth she
that ouersone behelde his beutye
Wherby ensued innumerable of harmes
Thoroughe out the world by Mars charmes
Beholde I praye the among the companye
Enone complaynynge full heauely
For Parys that dyd hyr falsly betraye
And toke in hyr stede fayre Helen awaye
Se also Menelaus the Grekysse kynge
And Hermon the fayre Horestes for to call
And Laodome that standeth all apall
Crye for hyr loue the good Protheossolaus
And Argia the faythfull for Pollynisus
Here I pray the, the greuous lamentynges
The syghes, the sorowes, and the bewaylynges
Of the myserable louers in this place
That are brought into so dolorous case
That there spyrytes they are about to rendre
Unto the false God that is so sclendre
I can not nowe tell the all the names
That the false God of loue thus tames
Not onely men that borne be mortall
But also the hyghe greate Goddes supernall
Are here in this greate and darke presse
What shulde I any more nowe rehearse
Se where Uenus doth stande with Mars
Whose heade and legges the yron doth enbrase
And Pluto and Preserpyne on the other syde
And Iuno the ielyous for all hyr pryde
And Apollo with his gaye golden lockes
That gaue vnto Uenus scornes and mockes
yet in Thessalia with this boyes fyrye darte
This great God was pearsed to the harte
And for conclusion, the Goddes and Goddesses al
Of whome Uarro doth make rehearsall
Beholde how afore loues chayre they goo
Fast fettred and chayned from toppe to too
And Iupiter hymselfe, the great myghty kynge
Amonge the other, whiche is a maruelous thing.
The second Chapter of the Tryumphe of Loue.
All musynge wyth greate admirationAs one astonnyed to see the fasshyon
Nowe here, nowe there, I loked all aboute
To se the order of this greate huge route
And as my harte from thought to thought past
I sawe twayne together at a caste
Hande in hand they went in the prease
Reasonynge together they dyd not sease.
Theyr straunge habyte, and theyr araye
And theyr language more straunge I saye
Was vnto me so darke and obscure
That what they ment I knowe not be ye sure.
Tyll my felowe by his interpretation
Of that whiche they talked made declaration
And then when I knewe what they were
Into theyr presence I drewe me nere
And perceaued that the one spirite was
Frende to the Romaynes that there dyd passe
The tother contrary a perpetuall foo
I lefte hyr then, and to the tother dyd goo
and sayde: O Masinissa I the praye
For Scypyons sake which thou dydst loue alway
That I am so bolde be thou not angrye
To demaunde the what thou doest here
Masinissa aunswered with a sad chere
I do desyre to knowe what thou shulde be
For it is I tel the a great wonder vnto me
That thou doest spye my great affection
whiche that I beare with suche disection
To this my loue, and to my tother frende
That desyre of me, and I wyll condescende
To all that thynge that thou wylt haue me do
I aunswered gently, O hyghe prynce not so
My poore estate desyreth no suche mede
A small lytle fyer farre of indede
Bryngeth forth but a small lyght:
But thy royall fame, O noble knyght
Is euery where blowen and spredde
This duke afore whome thou arte ledde
I praye the gently kynge expresse
Whether he doth lede you both in peace
You and Sophonysba, for I suppose
That twayne suche louers as together goese
In all the worlde were harde to fynde:
He aunswered and sayde, thy wordes are so kind
That although thou knowe hole the case
Of all my loue howe greuous that it was
Yet wyll I tell the thy fancy to appease
And thy mynde to set at rest and ease,
That noble Duke that onlye had my harte
So true and sure, and fast in euery parte
That I in frendshyp with Lelins may compare
Whersoeuer his worthy baner dyd fare,
But not so fortunate as he deserued by ryght
For full of goodnes and grace was he
Aswell wyth soule as in the fayre bodye
Nowe after the Romaynes by singler honoure
Had sprede theyr armes by myght and power
To the extreme partes of the occident
Thither wyth this valeaunt Scipion I went
There was I, in loue fyrst taken than
Wyth this Sophonisba this swete woman
And she with me in such a feruent guyse
That I affirme and with so true aduyse
That neuer two louers loued better
Nor two true louing hartes nor sweter
Agreade in one nor yet neuer shall
But the tyme of duryng alas it was but small
For sone vanished away our louely chere
As I tell the yf that thou wilt me here
For albeit, I toke her to my wyfe
And thought with her to haue led my lyffe
The bond was broken forthwith in twayne
By his holy wordes that more myght certayne
Then all the worlde in such faruente case
The knot he losed and I my selfe gaue place
And nowe wonder for I in hym dyd see
So highe vertue in all kynde of degree
That as I may say by good comparison
He is all blynde that cannot see the sonne
And albeit that iustice was offence
To oure true loue yet his high prudence
And his deare frendshyppe dyd me compell
For to folowe his sage worthy councell
And in loue a chylde in yche degree
A brother in yeres which me constrayned
Wyth heuy harte with sighes depe payned
Scipio to obeye whereby my wyfe
Was constrayned for to lose her lyfe
And that wyllingly rather then she
Into vyle seruitude brought should be
And I my selfe the mynister was
To my great doloure to execute this case
So ardently she desired the death
That I my selfe as the trueth sayeth
To her prayer dyd then condiscend
To my great heuynes this was the ende
I sent her venyme for to drynke
Wyth such a sorowe as thou mayest thynke
Yf euer thou feltes of loues woo and payne
That it semeth my harte wolde brest in twayne
She knoweth this and so well knowe I
Be thou the Iudge and thynk I do not lye
Thus loste I my dere hope and luste
To kepe my fayth and not to be vniuste
Unto my Scipio nowe seke yf thou may
Yf thou canst se in all this great arraye
Or ells perceaue in all this louers daunce
So wonderfull and so straunge a chaunce
Wyth these wordes that he declared to me
Calling to minde as I myght playnely se
The hoote fyery loue betwixt them twayne
My harte euen there so relentyde playne
As doth the snowe agaynst the feruent sonne
When that his beames to sprede he hath begonne
I harde her say and that right hastely
This felowe pleased me nothing at all
I am determined ye and euer shall
To hate hym and all his nacion
When that I harde her speake of this facion
I sayd Sophonisba I praye the be in peace
For bryfelye the truth to the to reherse
Two times the Romaynes thy cartage oppressed
That as theyr subiectes to be they all confessed
The thirde tyme they destroyde it cleane
That nowe vnneth thereof is nothyng sene
Sophonisba answered to me agayne
With short wordes and in great disdaine
Yf Aufrike wept Italie had no nede
For to make bost of theyr lucky spede
Aske those that your hystoryes do wryte
For they the trueth of both perties do endite
Thus they went both together in fere
Among the great prease here and there
Smiling and talkyng that I ne might
No more of them haue after that a sight
Then as one that at aduenture doth ride
To knowe the right way on euery syde
Nowe standeth, nowe goeth, nowe hyeth a pase
Euen so my fancye at that time it was
Doubtefull and desyring to knowe by proue
Howe faruently these twayne dyd loue
Tyll at the last as I cast myne eye
Upon the lyft hande I sawe me by
One that had this straunge effecte
To seme angry because he dyd abiecte
By pytie to geue her to another
And reioysed much so for to doo
And all together as louers they dyd goo
Talkynge of this merueylouse case
And of Syrya that countre where it was
I drue me nere to these spirites thre
That were aboute, as farre as I can see
To haue gone from thense another way
And to the first of them thus dyd I say
I pray you sayde I, a whyle for to abyde
Anone the fyrste he dyd cast his heade asyde
When that he harde me speake Italyan
And wyth a ryght angrye countenaunce than
He stode styll and streyght began to tell
That which I thought to be a great maruell
Thou desyrest my frende to knowe sayeth he
What I am and what that I should be
I am Selencus brifely to discus
And this afore the is my sonne Antiocus
Which had great warre with ye Romaines nation
But right agaynste fierce hath no dominion
This woman that thou sest was fyrst my wyfe
And after was his for to saue hys lyfe
It was then lefull for vs so to doe
Her name is Stratonica she was called so
And oure chaunce by loue was thus deuyded
And vnder this facyon the matter was guyded
My sonne was contented to release to my hande
His great kyngdome and all his large lande
I vnto hym my loue and lady deare
When that I sawe hym for to chaung his chere
So that vnneth he myght not drawe his breath.
I maruayled muche what the cause shoulde be
Secretely my wyfe for trueth loued he
That not disclosinge his wofull payne
My dere sonne by loue was well nere slayne
And had ben deade, but that the wyse phisician
Disclosed to me the very cause than
Of all his sycknes whiche he kept close
Surely this came of a vertuouse purpose
And of a wonderous fatherly pytie of me
Sayinge these wordes awaye went he
So that I coulde vnneth bydde hym farewell
And this was all that then he dyd me tell
After that the shadowe thus was gone
Syghynge and sadde, I made great mone
Because I myght not to hym disclose my hart
But styll as I stode thus musynge aparte
I knowe that Zerzes the great kynge of Perce
Whiche ledde an Army as hystories reherce
Of men innumerable, had neuer such a sort
As there was of louers barrayne of comforte
So that myne eyes coulde not well suffyse
To se theyr straunge fashyons and theyr guyse
Uaryable of tounges, and of so dyuers landes
That amonge a thousand one that there standes
I knewe not, theyr person nor theyr name
Nor yet in hystorye coulde descryue the same
Parseus was one, and fayne I woulde desyre
Howe Andromeda dyd hyr selfe so attyre
That although she blacke were pardie
Borne in Ethiope that whote countrie
This Parseus harte in loue so dyd steare
That as his loue the virgyn dyd he take
And neuer after dyd that mayde forsake
There was also the folysh louer playne
That loued his owne pycter vayne
That therby vnwysely he was brought to death
And after as the hystorye playnly sayth
He was conuerted by the diuine power
Unto a fayre goodly pleasaunt flower
Without for to brynge any frute at all
And by hym emong these louers thrall
Was she that was turned vnto a stone
And now aloude doth aunswer euery one
When she is called with voyce clere
Next vnto this Ecco that dyd appeare
Was yphys that had her selfe in hate
Wyth other dyuers, in a full pyteouse state
Whiche were to longe theyr names for to reherse
Eyther in prose, or elles in ryme or verse
But yet of some I wyll declare and tell
Of Alcione and Ceice that loued so well
That loue they had so ioyned for euer
That nothynge could make them to disseuer
Nowe clepyng now kyssynge, as they dyd flye
Serchynge the kyngedome of Esperye
Now restynge together on a salte stone
And by the Sea theyr nestes to make alone
And I sawe also amonge that great route
As here and there I loked me about
The cruell doughter of kynge Nysus
With flyght she fledde which is maruelouse
With theyr gay golden apples doubtles
She was vanquyshed yea and ouercome
By Hyppomone lo this is all and some
Glad he semed to haue had the vyctory
And amonge the other of this companye
I sawe Atys and Galathea in his lappe
And Poliphemon with greate noyse and clappe
And Glanco shouynge amonge the sorte
Crying for his loue without comforte
Carmenite and Pico, of Italy sometyme kynge
Turne to a byrde, which was a meruelouse thing
There sawe I also Egeria complayne
Because Syllayn was turned certayne
Into a greate harde rocke of stone
Whiche in the sea maketh many to mone
Amonge the other that I haue rehearsed
Was Canase, by hyr father oppressed
In the tone hande a penne dyd she holde
A sworde in the tother, with pale face and colde
Pygmalion was there among the reste
With his wyfe Alyf that he loued best
And amonge these I harde a thousande synge
In Castallia where these Poetes brynge
These louers with them more then I reherse
In prose, in ryme, in metre, and in verse
And at the last Cydippe dyd I see
Scorned with an apple there was she.
The thyrde chapter of the tryumphe of Loue.
So muche was my hearte a marueld of this syghtThat I stode styll as one that had no myght
To speake or looke but to holde hys peace
As desyreous to haue some councell doubtles
When that my frende gentylly to me sayde
Why doest thou muse? Why arte thou dismayde?
Shewe forth a better chere and porte
And se how that I am one of the sorte
That wyll I, nyll I, must folowe the rest.
Brother sayde I, and thou knowest best
Myne entention, and the hote loue I feale
Whiche is so whote that it cannot keale
So that suche busynes doth trauayle my mynde
That what I wolde saye I leaue behynde.
He aunswered and sayde, I do heare it all
And well vnderstande by thy memoriall
Thou wouldest knowe yet what these other be
And I shall shewe thee yf thou wylte heare me
Seest thou yondre great man of honoure
That is Pompeus so great of power
That hath with hym Cornelia the chaste
Complaining of the vyle Tholome the vnstedfast
The tother is the great and myghtie grecian
Alexander the lorde of lordes all
Egystus and Clytemistra see where they stall
And howe by them one may soone fynde
Loue vnconstant waueryng and blynde
More faste loue founde she that standeth by
Ipermistra it is that fayre swete ladye
See also where Piramus doth goo
And with hym Thisbe that he loued soo
That in the derke mette oft together
Leander in the see and Ero at the fenester
And hym that thou doest se so pensyfe and sadde
It is Ulixes that so chaste a wyfe hadde
That dyd longe abyde hys returne from Troy
Howe on Cyres he hath all his ioye
And yonder man that thou doest aduerte
That made all ytaly sore for to smerte
It is Amilcar sonne in very deade
That made all the Romaynes to feare and dread
And althoughe he made yche man to quake
A vyle wench prysoner doth hym take
And yonder woman with the short heare
Loke howe she foloweth here and there
All though she were quene of Ponto
Her husbande whersoeuer he doth goo
As a seruaunte and not as a wyfe
She ledde wyth hym a full harde lyfe
The tother thou seest is Porcia the true
The chastiste wyfe that euer man knewe
Because that yron men dyd her forbyde
The fyre she swallowed tyll she were dede
That she best loued her husband vnfayned
And yet he louide hys second wyfe better
There could to her be no payne greater
Turne thyne eyes on the other syde
And see the olde holy father begylde
And dysdayne not for to take the payne
To serue seuen yeares to haue Rachell agayne
O lyuely loue that with labour doth encrease
See the father of this Iacob neuerthelesse
And the graundefather of Sara take delyght
Thus doth loue wyth his power and myght
After loke howe loue cruell and euyll
Ouercame Dauide and made hym to kyll
His faythfull seruaunt which he repented sore
In a derke place he dyd repentaunce therefore
Alyke mysty cloude pyte to thynke vpon
So verkyd the great wysedome of Salomon
That well neare it quenched hys hygh fame
Se also I praye the among the same
He that louyde and hatyd in a whyle
And it is he that Thamar dyd beguyle
Wherefore she complayned to Absolone
Of hyr mysfortune she made wondre mone
And lytle afore hym see there he went
The stronge Sampson that sore dyd repent
For putting his heade in his loues lappe
Tellyng her hys secretes he hadde hard happe
After beholde amonge swordes and speares
Iudeth that hent hym by the heares
The proude Holiferne vanquished by loue
Whereby she sauyde her citie from reproue
That dyd thys wonders acte at that abrayde
Doest thou not see Sychen afore thine eyes
Emonge the circumcysed people howe he dyes
Scorned in lyke maner as the tother was
Thys was loue that brought hym to that case
Lo where thou mayest see the greate Assuerus
That for to heale hys malady amarouse
Left the tone and toke hym to a sweter
There is no remedy agaynst loue better
Then one nayle to knocke out with a nother
A stronge example this is among the other
But nowe wylt thou see in one tyrantes hart
Loue and crueltie which is a diuers parte
Beholde Herodes howe he doth complayne
Thys myscheuouse tyrante inhumayne
To late repentyd soo doth dyuers mo
The deade ones done, it cannot be vndoo
Maryamne hys loue he calleth and clepeth
And all in vayne wherefore he wepeth
And lo there one may beholde and see
Three fayre swete Dameselles where they be
Pocry and the good gentle Arthemesia
And in there companye there standeth Deidamia
These were not soo good but the other be as yll
That foloweth this loues tryumphe styll
Semiramis and Biblia, and Mirra, the gent
That of theyr vyle loue do soore repente
I am not aduysed theyr offences to name
Therefore I leue it for very pure shame
Nowe foloweth then that fyll bokes wyth lyes
Launslote and Trystram that for Ysode dyes
But specially the fayre gentle Darmino
That made for his loue great complaynte
And she for hym wexed pale and faynte
Thus spake my frende, & I which herkened well
All these hystories that he to me dyd tell
Stode astonied as in dreade and feare
Of hurt to come that hastyth nere and nere
Pale and wane as he that is so taken
Oute of his tombe newe rysen and awaken
When that all sodenly by me there stode
The fayrest yonge mayden of face and mode
That euer I sawe whyter then a doue
Which vnprouided toke me soore in loue
And although that I dyd pretende
By strength agaynst her me to defende
And that I, would resyst in the place
A man of armes in such a soden case
Yet for hyr wordes and with her smyling chere
She bounde me fast and toke me prysoner
And euyn then for trueth in that degree
My frende drue nere and smyling sayde to me
In my nere wysperyng nowe speake thou may
What loue is and all her nyce playe
Nowe mayest thou knowe it as well as I
Both we be spottyd wyth one maladye
I than was one of this great arraye
That more dyd lament the trueth, I saye
Of other mens loue that prosperde well
Then of myne owne doloure of which I tell
And as he that repenteth all to late
Of hurte taken vnwysely allgate
Myne owne death which wyllyngly I take
By loue, by ielozy, by enuye also
Burnynge lyke fyre thus dyd I loue in woo
The fyre was kyndled in that most fayrest face
Euen as a sycke man that an appetyte hase
And desyreth that to hym semeth swete
Yet to this helth it is nothynge mete
Euen so was I vnto all other pleasure
Deaf and blynde, out of all measure
Folowynge hyr by so doubtfull wayes
That it to remember, those tymes and dayes
I tremble and quake when therof I do thynke
More then I can wryte with pen paper and ynke
So that from the tyme that this befell
Myne eyes for moysture semed a well
My harte was pensyfe, my lodginge was in dede
Brokes sprynges, and ryuers, so dyd I lede
My lyfe in busshes, in grouets, and in woodes
Amonge the stones, I sought none other goodes
And to this so many papers whyte
As in hyr prayse I payned to endyte
When after I tore them into peces smal
I was compelled agayne to wryte them all
And all in loues cloystre what is done
I know it well it cannot be vndone
That there is feare, and there is hope also
Who wyll it rede, and take hede thereto
In my forehead there maye ye se it playne
All my sorowe, my doloure, and my payne
And for all this, that wylde ioly dame
That is the causer of all this same
Whether that I flete, I synke, or fall
So is she proude in vertue set so hye
That in hyr selfe she taketh glorye
To haue me so fast hyr seruaunt bounde
That I knowe not howe to heale my wounde
And to this it is a maruelouse thynge
The God of loue this great myghtye kynge
It seemeth of hyr he is soore afearde
When that she lyst to loke hymin the bearde
So that hope doth me so ofte forsake
That loue hym selfe no remedy can make
For when he wyll any thynge with this mayde
She doth not as other do that are afrayde
But as one that is free she goeth in the race
Not bounde, but at lybertie with hyr fayre face
And no wondre for she doth appeare
Emonge the starres as the Sonne cleare
Hyr porte is synguler hyr wordes are maruelous
Hyr heare spred as the golde moost beutiouse
The eyen kyndled with a celestiall lyght
That well content to burne is my delyght
Who can compare with hyr angelyke demure
It passeth my connyng ye maye be sure
As muche as the Sea passeth a lytle broke
For who on good maners doth prye and looke
A newe thynge it is, and not afore seene
Nor after shall not so dulse and sheene
So that all tounges hyr beutye to expresse
Are and shalbe muete doubtelesse
With suche a one am I taken, and with hyr tyde
And she free from all loue on euery syde
Howe is it that I haue no better speade
Day and nyght vpon hyr I do call
But she nothyng bouse to pytie at all
Nor scant will tary to heare what I saye
Alas for pytye well mourne I maye
A harde lawe it is thus to loue be kynde
The waye not ryght, but crooked for to fynde
But yet to folowe it why shulde I saye naye
When that not onely men doth goe that waye
But the Goddes also that be celestiall
Are not free from this payne at all
He that is a louer ful well knowes this
How that the hart from the bodye departed is
How nowe he is in warre, and forthwith in peace
Howe when his loue doth shewe vngentlenes
He wyll not be aknowen, but his malady hyde
Thoughe that it prycke hym both backe and syde
This euell feele I, and yet more there to
When with my loue I haue to do
The bloude for feare renneth to my harte
And streyght abroade in my vaynes doth starte
I knowe also howe hydde vnder the floure
The serpent lyeth the louer to deuoure
How alwayes the louer lyeth in dread and doute
In great suspecte for to be put oute
By another, and so no rest I take
Neyther when I slepe, nor when I wake
I knowe also howe to seke the place
Where my loue is ay wont to passe
And yet I stand in feare hyr to fynde
Althoughe hyr selfe is prynted in my mynde
With louynge and mornynge a great whyle
Folowynge the damesell it is euen so
That wyll burne me folowyng, yet after I go
I knowe moreouer how loue cryes and calles
And wyll not be shytte out with dores nor walles
But puttes by reason, and wyll not go awaye
Tyll he pearce the harte, and all I saye
I knowe also how sone a gentle harte
Is tyed with a small lace and cannot start
When the sences haue the better hande
And reason put by, and wyll not withstande
I knowe to this how that loue doth shote
How he flyes and strykes without geuyng boote
How he threateth and robbeth with forse & might
And thus wronges his seruaūtes against al right
and I am not ignoraūt how vnstable is his whele
The hope doubtfull alwayes for to fele
The doloure sure, his promyse vntrue
Ay desyrous to chaunge for thynges newe
And how to this in the bones doth rest
The hyd fyre that lyeth so opprest
In the louers vaynes, and that with such a woūd
That at the last it bryngeth hym to the ground
In conclusion I know loue so to be
Inconstaunt, waueryng, and fearefull trust me
Hauyng in it a lytle small swetenes
Mengled with extreme payne and bytternes
When he woulde speake, cannot though he would
Sodeyne scilence when his tale should be tolde
A shorte laughynge with complaynt styll & longe
Gall tempred with hony this is the louers songe.
The fourth Chapter of the Tryumphe of Loue.
After that my fortune thus hade me broughteAnd loue soo sore in my hart wroughte
That cut were al my weake sely vaynes
My lybertie gone and I in wofull paynes
I that afore was wylde as any harte
Was made then tame for my parte
As well as all the other that were there
And well knew theyr trauayle and theyr fere
And wyth what wyte, crafte and chaunce
I and they were brought to loues daunce
And then as that I loked all aboute
If I myght spye among that hudge route
Any person of cleare and high name
That by wryting haue eternall fame
I sawe hym that Erudyce dyd call
Apon Pluto the great god infernall
And folowed her as these hystories tell
Downe vnto the depe dongeon of hell
And dying dyd his loue clepe and call
I sawe also euyn among them all
Alceo Macreon and the wyse Pyndarus
That in loue were all thre studiouse
Wyth other excellent poetes in that place
The tone was Ouyde the tother Catullo
Propercius also and eke Tubullo
That of loue wrote many a verse and songe
And with this excellent Poetes amonge
Was a Grecian that with her swete style
Of loue full many a songe dyd fyle
Ay lokyng thus about me here and there
I sawe in a grene fielde with sadde chere
People that of loue reasonyng went
Dant with beatryce fayre and gent
Lo on the tother syde I might also se
Cino of Piscoia wyth hym trust me
Guydo of Rezzo and in that place
Two other Guydos in lyke manner and case
The tone of them was borne in boleyne
The tother was a very ryght Cicelien
Senicio and Francisco so gentle of condicion
And Arnolde and Daniell in lyke facion
A great maker and dyuyser of loue
And dyd great honour to his Citie aboue
There was Peter also the Clerke famouse
And Rambaldo with his stile curiouse
That wrote for his beatryce in mont ferrato
The olde Peter and with hym Geraldo
Filileto that in Marsill bare the name
And the prayse from Geneway by the same
Geffray Rudell that sought his death Alasse
vpon the water as he hym selfe dyd passe
There was also Wilbon at that houre
Passyd many other in his dayes
Among these other that of loue sayes
Was Amerego, Barnardo, Hugo, and Anselme
That in stede of speare, shilde, and helme
Was theyr tounge and theyr fayre speach
The loue of theyr Ladyes to besech
I turned myne eyes from that companye
And streight wyse I dyd there espye
The good Thomaso that gate great prayse
In Boleyne that citie in hys dayse
O fleyng swetenes O paynefull wery lyfe
What chaunce hath taken wyth woo and strife
These my deare fryndes away from me
Why am I not styll in theyr company
Well may I perceaue howe feble and frayle
Is manslyfe all full of trauayle
Well may I say it is none other thing
But as a dreame or a shadowe passyng
Or as a fable that when it is tolde
The wynde and whether doth it holde
Unneth was a lytle past the rule
Of the commen lernars in scole
When fyrste I dyd Socrates workes se
And Lelius howe fayre they dyd agree
Wyth these men I entende styll to goo
Which I haue named hether vnto
As those whose laude no man can well rehearse
Neyther in ryme, in prose, nor yet in verse
Wyth these two and dyuerse other in my dayes
Haue I searched many dyuers wayes
But for alwayes I wyll wyth them abyde
Untyll the houre come that I shall dye
For wyth these two gotten yet haue I
The gloriouse Laurell wherewith my heade
As a garlande all aboute is spredde
In memory of her of which I wryte
Uerses of prayses as I can endyte
But of her which I so much commend
For all my seruyce that I do pretend
I cannot get neyther boughe nor lefe
But payne, heauines, doloure, and grefe
And or I wryte the cause why she doth so
I wyll wryte of the pensyfe woo
That these vnwyse louers haue to loue
The thyng is so farre my wytte aboue
That for great Omer or for wyse Orpheus
It were well mete they shoulde it dyscusse
Then in folowing of my golden penne
I wyll declare howe I and all these men
Folowing this god by Dykes and by Dales
With peynes and busines and with many tales
This chylde vnto his kyngdome came
Where Uenus hys mother was resydent than
But so ouerwhart thyder was the wayes
By busshes and woodes and other brayes
That not one amonge all wyste where he was
Nor howe it was wyth hym nor in what case
There lyeth beyonde Egeo that grete see
A delectable yle to beholde and se
Because the sonne softly doth it warme
The byrdes there full swetely charme
Is there a mountayne fayre ydressed
With fayre flowres, and fayre cleare water
That it taketh awaye all sadde matter
From the hartes of suche as be there
This is the lande to Uenus moost dere
Wherein the olde auncient men
Made to this Uenus a temple then
And yet of vertue it is so barrayne I saye
That as it was, so it is at this daye
In that selfe same place tryumpheth this Lorde
Of vs and other that he doth bynde in corde
Of all nations, from Tyle vnto Inde
Innumerable of all men one maye fynde
This Prynce in token of his great victory
That he hath obteyned of louers so gloriouslye
Caryeth with hym of poore louers the spoyle
To gyue to hys wanton mother in that soyle
Fyrst of all the louers thoughtes in his lappe
He hath with hym fast closed in a trappe
Uanytie embraseth hym, and with hym doth go
Fugytyue pleasure doth folowe hym also
In wynter Roses he caryeth about
In Somer yse, this great God so stoute
Doutefull hope before and behynde
Shorte Ioye, wauerynge and blynde
Penaunce and sorow doth folowe the rest
As in Rome and in Troy, when it was opprest
Thus with a noyse and a huge shoute
Redounded the valleye there all aboute
With a consent of byrdes fayre and swete
And the ryuers that ranne by the strete
Greene, blewe, redde, yalowe and whyte
And euer the Ryuars rynnyng in that place
When that the tyme of greate heate was
Apon the freshe fayre greene flowres
To comforte the herbers and the bowres
Shadowes softe to kepe the sonne away
The wether temperate by nyght and daye
The Sonne nether to hoote nor to colde
Plenty of deynties eate who woulde
And pleasures dyuers to make a symple wytte
Haue an olde feble harte for to vse it
It was about the Equinoctiall lyne than
When the fayre bryght Phebus began
To chase the longe wynter nyghtes awaye
And prougne laughes early afore daye
In that tyme and in that selfe howre
This great God of so hyghe powre
Woulde tryumphe then, and there worshipped be
O our vnstable fortune for to se
We ne coulde but as this God vs leade
Hym to worshyppe, se howe we speade
What death, what sorow, woo and payne
Hath the louer, his purpose to attayne
Nowe for to declare this matter by and by
This Goddes chayre, where that they sat on hye
There was about it errour and dreames
And glosynge ymages of all nations and realmes
False opynion was entrynge the gate
And slypper hope stode by theyr ate
Wery rest, and rest with wo and payne
The more hygher he clam the lesse he dyd obtayn
Nor profitable hurte alwayes in fere
Cleare dishonoure, and glory obscure and darke
False lealtie lefte not there to warke
Nor beguyldynge fayth, nor furious busynes
Nor slowe reason lacked not in the presse
A pryson open, entre who woulde
When he was in gotten oute he ne coulde
Within trouble, confusion, and mysery
A sure sorowe a myrth vncertaynly
Lyppary nor Ischa, nor Uolcan boyls not so
Strongile and Mongebell put therto
As boyled the place where the castell was
And briefly whosoeuer thyther dyd pas
Is there bounde in hote and in colde
In darkenesse euerlastynge in that holde
Holden and tyed and kept by forse
Crying for mercy tyll that he be horse
In this castell syghynge for Sorga and Arno
Was I prysoner many a longe daye so
That by my wytte, I coulde no meanes fynde
Oute for to gette there I was so blynde
One remedye at the leaste there I founde
Whyles that I was in loue thus bounde
My wytte on hyghe thynges was euermore set
To knowe what loue is whiche was so great
That I therby coulde well discerne
What was to be done in suche harme
And thus hauynge great compassion
Of suche that were in loues pryson
My harte relented euen as doth the snowe
Agaynst the hoote Sonne ye may me trowe
To be in so darke a pryson there and then
None otherwyse but as one that doth se
A pycture well made in conformyte
Goeth the foote forwarde it for to espye
And yet loketh backwarde with his eye
So at that tyme I loked all aboute
To consydre this greate companye and route.
The ende of the Tryumphe of Loue.
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