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Three most excellent Elegies written by that famous Poet, Lodovico Ariosto:

the first vttered by Il Disgratiato, who through extreme rage pulled out his owne eyes: the second by Don Infelice, who with sorrow wept out his eyes: and the third by Disaventvrato, who with a passion of madnesse, burnt out his eyes with the scorching heate of the Sunne beames.

The generall Argument of the three Elegies.

Three Gentlemen of honourable descent in Italy, being enamored of three most beautifull Ladies, and following them in great secrecie many yeares (who promising also to be loyall to their well deseruing seruants, yet proued after to be false and vnconstant) after they had most apparantly found and perceiued that their Mistresses were mutable, they tooke their disloyalty so inexpressable grieuous, that the first called Il Disgratiato, being in extreme fury, pulled out his own eyes: The second Don Infelice grieued so extremely that through his extreme sorrow he wept out his owne eyes: And the third Disauenturato, fixing his face for the nonce against the scorching beames of the Sunne, in the hottest time of Somer, being, in a manner madde for anger, burnt out his owne eyes with the very heate of the same, because he would see her no more, who had so much before bewitched his sight.

Elegie. I. The complaint of the first Gentleman Il Disgratiato, who through extreme rage pulled out his owne eyes.

Loue, thou hast curst me with blacke desteny,
To loue her best who said she best lou'd me,
And yet (by her sweet selfe I sweare) I liued
In that my torment so content, vngrieued,
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That all security like sweete soft ayre
I uld my care-wanting sence in Musicke spheare.
O on her never-satisfied eyes,
So much I doated, so did sacrifice
My vnrepealed vowes, that still my faith
Made my thoughts sweare, that neither time nor death,
Disdaine nor fortune, no nor hell had power
To make her cheerefull eye vpon me lower,
Or adde one drop of water to that fire,
Which burnt in her vnquenchable desire.
And yet alas 'tis most true (though most strange)
From me (most kind) she (most vnkind) doth change,
Giues all her loue away, breakes loyall band,
And for her heart leaues me not now her hand.
New fleeting obiects, rocke-build faith displaceth,
And all my loue by small degrees disgraceth.
Her heart, her eye, and all from me is gone,
And but for griefe of this I liued alone.
Which when my iealousie let me behold
And all her Protean fancies did vnfold,
Then I began t'accuse her treachecy,
Which she denies, and scornes apostacy.
Sweares that from such offence she is as cleare
As infants are, or sun-shine when most faire.
Could I wotest or not beleeue her then?
O no I could not, women gouerne men.
Credit I gane till time and her desire
Broke through the smoake into a flame of fire.
And all the world so couered with her shame,
That of her selfe, her selfe confest the same.
O banefull most, and dismall be the day
Whose foule prodigious birth did take away,
My mirth, my pleasures, my delights, my toyes,
And in their place fixt sorrowes, cares, annoyes.
Too well alas her cruelty did know
My heart deseru'd not thus to vndergo
The martyrdome of chance, since euer still
It did effect what euer she did will.
But Star-crost fate so great a tyrant is
He still torments him most, doth least amisse.
Now when I saw disdaine was so vnkind,
That most in sight, I most was from her mind,
And that her nouell soule to be all new,
Tooke one most false for him that was most true,
3

I sight so much, wept and cride out so long
Against her shame, and mine iniurions wrong,
That madde with rage I tore out of my head,
My hurtlesse hurting eyes which me mislead.
Them from their peacefull monuments I rent,
Lest after time should force them to consent,
To leade me once more to that wretchednesse,
Which worse then hell holds paine without redresse.
For more I saw her, still she was more faire,
And more her beauty, more was my despaire.
So faire she was, was nothing like her fayre,
Surpassing all in heauen, in earth, or ayre.
When she was borne I saw all of her kind
To teare their hayres, and strow them in the wind,
Maligning loue, because he did combinde,
More worth in her then was in womankind.
And Nature they baptiz'd, a stepdame mother,
Sith making her, she had mar'd euery other.
And where in others some one grace did grow,
What ere was cald a grace in her did flow.
Which I suppose Nature did to this end
The world might her hie master-peece commend,
Which was so rare as when thereon I thinke
My soule amaz'd doth as of Lethe drinke:
Forgetting all things else, sith pen nor rongue,
Can tell the wonders which to her belong:
Yet painter like Ile trie if I can draw,
Her beauty to the life, obseruing law
Of pensill-pen proportion, and though I,
Know I shall faint, ere I shall artefully
Giue due to her least shadow, yet I will
Attempt my vow (who dares shall know his skill)
Assist me holy Muse, kindle my flame,
To make her beauty bury her defame.
First there was neuer Nymph that had a hayre
So rich, so soft, so delicate, so fayre.
The colour was not gold, gold it did passe,
And was of more transparance then pure glasse,
Curld (not by Art but Nature) rare it shord
When gentle blasts of wind blew it abroad,
And whilst it lay vpon her louely cheeke
(Seeming to smile as oft as they did meete)
Heauens grutcht thereat as wanting such faire light,
Apollos locks were neuer halfe so bright.
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Her spacious forehead, like the purest skie,
Portending change of seasons you might spie.
Or like a Christall myrrour pure and true,
In which my Mistris heart I still might view,
And plainly read both her thoughts and mine owne,
Clos'd in her breast, disioyned or alone.
Looke how a cunning Pylote on the Sea,
Skil'd in the Starres and Winds, and springing day.
Knowes euery change of weather that shall fall,
Within his horoscope in generall.
So her faire forehead of my pleasures was
And of my woes the perfect looking glasse.
Her dainty eye-browes of rich Ebony,
Each gazing proud attempt did soone espie,
Denouncing death gainst them that were too bold,
By strict suruey her best beames to behold.
Witnesse am I to this, who neuer thought
Of such deare ill, till I to death was brought.
From these Loue tooke the patterne for his bow
With which he men and Gods doth ouerthrow,
So that she neuer winck't, or gaue a glance,
Were it premeditate, or else by chance,
But still there whirld into my harmelesse heart,
Darts, lances, light winds, fires to make it smart:
Then thou my heart to beare these plagues not scorne,
Since for her sake to suffer thou wert borne.
Her little cheekes were like Pomgranats fine,
Died with some drops of purest claret wine
Resembling liuely sparkes of sacred fire,
When bashfull she doth blush at rash desire,
Or like a little heap of mountaine snow,
From whence a heauenly flame doth sweetly grow.
So many dainty colours when I saw
My pleased soule to admiration draw,
I would haue sworne she had bene or the spring,
Or goddesse of a greater better thing.
For why her beauty so farre did surpasse,
That the springs prime in midst of winter was:
O such her cheeks were as did conquer Kings,
And with a smile gods to subiection brings.
My Muse vnto her mouth doth leade me next,
A dainty glosse for such a pleasing text.
Faine would I reade on this her beauteous booke,
But t'is in vaine, so hie I dare not looke,
5

Onely for one kisse I my life would giue,
Such rare perfumes within her breath doth liue:
Then nature shew'd her vtmost workmanship
When she did pourtray forth that witching lip,
Which with no cherries colour is orespread,
Now yet with Sinaber or ruddiest lead,
For from the heauenly Indias she hath brought
Corall and Rubies (giuen to her for nought)
One touch of them more pretious I would hold
Then all the earth containes or seas infold,
White and bright pearle her Iuory teeth did seeme
Their orient smoothnesse gaue them that esteeme,
Nor euer had the East so rich a treasure
Although it doe abound in wealth boue measure:
For if that pearl'd pernills of the mind,
Chance but to open, it hath power to bind
Both Sunne and winds, and euery mouing flame,
Whilst Musicke words doe issue from the same.
And if from thence one smile chance to aspire,
Thousands of soules are therewith set on fire
And well may he say (whose good hap it is)
To heare her speake of martyrdome or blisse,
That in her mouth true Paradise doth dwell
VVhence (woe alas) long since she did expell
Me like another Adam, for I sought
To know the good and euill of her thought.
Like a rich Tablet of inchassed gold,
So was her Diamond breast in mans behold.
Aboue the which in rare forme did arise,
Her smooth throat clearer then the Christall skies.
As for her necke it bore a golden frame
Like the best pillar in the house of fame
Their modest bashfulnesse was set enseald
In princely throne, whilst bout her (as inwald)
Stood for her guard all vertues that were rare,
As chast thoughts, holy loues, and wishes faire:
About her heart was written curiously
Desire of Honour, Feare of infamy,
Then you lasciuious youthes hence packe away
This place is sacred, here you must not stay.
If so (my lips) why then now doe you itch,
Take heede, as beauty none's so slie a witch.
Vnder a peece of thinne lawne hidden lies,
Her dainty dugges (fruit brought from forth the skies)
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These be the flames which set mine heart on fire,
Being kindled with the bellowes of desire,
Whilst with their amorous pantings they doe proue
How to be free from this her bosome loue,
But to no end: for there's the forge of care
Where sighes are fram'd, and al our longings are.
Cupid in heauen, nor in his mothers spheare:
Not any seat hath halfe so proud as there,
Nor hath he any place where he in blisse,
Doth soiourne more, or more's at ease then this:
Here is his watch, and fire which he doth make
Hence (when he was a babe) he milke did take,
Here when his mother would him beate he hides,
Saue here no where in calme safety bides:
From hence who doth inuoke him he will heare,
In this place he doth all his tooles repaire.
Here he makes new, and mends his bow and darts,
And lights the fire that burneth louers hearts.
Here (like a wanton wagge) he with one dugge,
Doth toy, and with the other play and tugge.
Ah might I in this blessed bed repose,
I would not care although I neuer rose.
Descending downe, there is a straite descent,
(Woe's me, that way as yet I neuer went)
A narrow strait there is, an vncouth way,
The readiest way to pleasure some doe say,
But hard to finde, and which is worst of all
It neuer openeth, though men crie and call:
There are those wondrous fruits whose pretious tree,
Excels th'Hesperian orchards Iuelry,
And they are planted in so strong a land,
As seene or touch them neere hath eye or hand.
Onely where they doe grow a man may gesse,
But nere come there, t'is fate remedilesse,
So fierce a keeper wardeth at the gate
As neuer malekind enter can thereat.
O chastest shadow groue, Elizean field,
The safest port which doth true pleasure yeeld,
Where neuer storme nor tempest hath bene seene,
Where all is like the spring, still flowring greene.
Vpon the entrance of which gate is writ,
(The more poore louers hearts with care to split)
Lo heere the treasure house of true delight,
From which Ambrosia flowes, and Nectar white.
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Now gentle porter for faire Venus sake,
To me poore pilgrime ope but once thy gate.
Long haue I call'd and cried at this dore,
Yet is my labour bootlesse as before.
O thou are more then rich, and dost abound,
Whilst I with pining want to starue am found.
But t'will not be, I see I must be gon,
To beggers prayers hence doth no almes belong,
It is in vaine her white hands to compare,
To any mortall things, they are so rare.
Lillies, Roses, Saphyres, and Iuory,
Ballan'st with these are idle foolery.
For when loue to himselfe will honour glue,
These are the ornaments that make him liue:
This maketh peace and warre, this instrument,
All minds and eares doth blesse with mild content.
O cruell hand, the hard key to my heart,
O hand that nere gauest ease to my soules smart,
Thou art Achilles lance, (mans saluing treasure)
And canst both hurt and heale me at thy pleasure:
My heart can witnesse this, for though I liue
The wound yet bleedeth which this hand did giue,
O hand no hand, but rather Cupids gloue
Which he gaue Psytehes as his pawne in loue.
Vnder her violet pretious senting foote,
Lyeth my harmelsse heart troad at the roote,
Who though he thus be spurnd on, yet nere lesse,
He doth not grudge on her disdaine expresse.
The worst of her disgrace he kindly taketh,
And as her sacred fauours of them maketh.
And if abroad she chance her foote to moue,
Euen sencelesse stones are stricken with her loue,
And when alone to take the aire she goes,
Thence where she treads both hearbs and flowers growes:
But when in courtly wise, she doth aduance,
Her selfe to tread the measures of a dance,
Then to the parting soules new life she giues
And by her motions men quite dead reuiues.
Imagine then what vertue is in her,
When stones, hearbs, flowers with fancy she doth stirre.
Too well I know it: for I saw ere now,
Trees (as by them she past) to her to bow.
But farre more precious are those parts, though hid,
Which squeamish shame to talke off doth forbid.
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You squeamish Ladies too wel know the same,
Your blushing shewes her beauty is your shame,
But aboue all he knowes her most most faire.
That smug-fac'st Bello author of my care
He knowes and ioyes at my great iniury,
Whilst he enioyes what doth belong to me.
O had I beene depriued of my sight
Because I had beheld her in the light,
Nak't like Diana, and, for that amisse
Acteon like beene banished all blisse,
And of mine owne hounds all in pieces torne,
VVith boldlesse patience should I it haue borne.
To see what he saw I would gladly giue
Both life and soule, and euen forsweare to liue
But from mine eyes all such delights are hid,
And yet I beare more tormeats then he did.
Breake then my heart to beare this heauinesse,
And die my soule to know thy wretchednesse.
These many beauties in one noble frame
Assembled and vnited in the same,
Made the best worke, and perfitest creature,
That euer was admired for her feature:
Besides her matchlesse making in each point,
As out of waxe wrought in each limbe and ioynt,
So strange was that to all, it did approue
She was create when art did nature liue.
But had you seene her in her rich aray
You would haue sworne she had exceld each way.
Praxiteles and Phydias workes as farre
As the faire Sunne a little twinkling starre.
But now that I am tired in this wise,
VVhy am I forc'st to talke of her bright eyes?
Bright eyes (Loues fearefull lightning) eyes which I
Forgot not for the nonce maliciously,
But for I was vnwilling to increase
My grifes anew which neuer shall finde peace:
For once they were my chiefest hopes of all
My wishes and my ioyes in generall,
But now they are so dreadfull to my thought,
That thinking on them, I to death am brought.
And as an ague fit am shak't with feare
VVhilst I am setting downe their vertues here.
Her diamond eyes like two Sunnes did appeare,
VVhilst they so slie State-politicians were.
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Such dainty shooters, and such warriours mild,
As with consent they euery one beguild.
So louely lookt they that mankind did long,
Vnto themselues, themselues to offer wrong.
These were the tyrants which imperiously,
Ouer all hearts did carry emperie.
These Trophees did erect, and had the spoyle,
Of all the louing hearts they put to foyle.
In them I saw lodg'd with extreme delight,
The hearts of Gods, of men and Angels bright.
Yet all of her neglected, mongst which crew,
Mine owne stood most respectlesse in her view.
Whilst her bright starres set all the world on fire,
And comet-like said, Now dies king desire.
But peace my Muse, those eyes were euer still,
The charmers which did witch me with my will.
Now come I to the last and latter part,
(And yet the worst of all the rest) her heart:
Woes me that she of me should thus be blamd,
That I must say her heart of yre is framd:
Within some vncouth desart, frozen, cold,
Most horrible and sauage to behold,
There it was bred, and from a Tigers brest,
Receiu'd it milke, lodg'd in a shee Beares nest.
And afterward, more cruell to appeare,
It fed on gall, on soote and vinegar:
And then it was by transmigration taken,
And placed in her brest, hath me forsaken.
Which brest being naked, she forthwith did frame,
A shield of Diamond to hide the same:
Of so hard temper, and such mighty force,
That neither sweete intreaties, nor remorse,
Loues dartes or fire-brands, wailings or warme bloud,
No nor enchanted spels can doe men good.
Or once so much as raze the tender skinne,
Much lesse lay battrie to the parts within.
Needs must she then of some hard rocke be borne,
Since pitie, worth and riches are her scorne,
Nor will she vnto any suite agree,
Except my present death or agony.
Thus beauty is the cause of all my wailing,
Whilst I though true in faith of faith am fayling:
Others offend, but I receiue the blame,
So oft the vertuous beare the vicious shame.
10

Then you mine eyes thrice happy to be blind,
Since you haue lost both bodies light and mind.

Elegie. II. The complaint of the second Gentleman Don Infelice, who with sorrow wept out his eyes.

If euer man had fortune bad,
It is my selfe, for I haue had
Worse then the worst, and will assay
To tell the same, (woes haue no stay)
For as the Sea not greater growes
Although all waters to it flowes:
So though I still my moanes expresse
Yet are my grieues no whit the lesse.
Nor can I at this present sorrow,
More then I did last day and morrow:
And though my woes-tides are so hie,
That they doe drowne mine heart and eye.
Yet shall my sorrowes striue to tell,
Why these afflictions in mee dwell:
Ile show why I am sicke and blinde,
Though her disdaine is all vnkinde.
And thus my Swannes song I beginne,
A solemne diergie for my sinne.
When twentie yeares I was of age,
I bound my selfe proud Cupids page,
And from him learnt to loue a dame,
That was of pearlesse mould and frame:
And her so much I did adore,
That neuer man did like before.
Her loued I long, and that so deare,
As to disclose it I durst ne're:
No not so much as make my thought,
Priuie to what my mind had wrought.
Much lesse to let the world or friends,
Know any of my louing ends.
Thus all content with mine owne ill,
I in this secret fire burnt still,
Imagining twixt her and mee,
Was one selfe flame, one simpathie,
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Which hope so bound vp all my sence,
Finding fit place for mine offence:
That I was bold and did discouer
(Twixt hope and feare that guards the louer)
Th'affection which to her I bare,
The onely source of all my care:
Desiring her most piteously,
With faltering tongue and weeping eye,
Or to accept me for her slaue,
Or friend in whom she might ingraue
Her priuate counsels, and withall,
Into her eare I told a tale,
Of mighty waight which did concerne her,
And with stong reasons so did learne her,
What from an earnest plainnesse came,
That I confest I was too blame,
To take so great a taske in hand,
And knew not how my grace did stand.
No sooner did my speech expire,
But she clad with disdaine and tire,
As if the tale which I beganne,
Were made to vexe her: lookes all wanne,
Lowers, and turnes from me her face,
(A certaine signe of my disgrace)
And then with lightning from her frowne,
So dead she strikes me in a swoune,
That yet my soule doth sigh and quake,
To thinke what rigour her lookes spake:
And when I call into my minde,
How much her hate did show vnkind,
Whilst through disdaine and feare I lay,
Like to a lumpe of sencelesse clay,
Seeming no man but marble rather,
Whence onely she my teares might gather:
At length vprose I from the place,
Wailing and weeping in sad case,
Cursing my tongue the cause of all,
Th'afflictions did on me befall.
And euer since my teare-fild eyes,
Haue wept so much in lauish wise,
That blind at last I am become,
And with my sorrowes stroken dumbe.
Some yeares are past, since thus with sorrow,
I haue consum'd daies, nights, and morrow.
12

And now mine eyes can shed no more,
Griefes fire hath burnt them vp so sore.
Yet huge woes with my heart doth tarry,
Which reason saith my tongue should carry.
O euill vniust, my tongue did ill,
And yet mine eyes are plagued still:
For her I plaged am, for whom
I must aliue goe to my tombe:
For her whose like no Sunne hath seene,
Be't Nymph or Fayrie, Muse, or Queene.
So cruell none, nor one so fayre,
As she that driues me to despaire:
When first to looke on her I dar'd,
(O who would thinke mans fate so hard)
The torments that in me remained,
Were worse then those in hell contained.
Such was her cruelty vntam'd,
Against me that the world her blam'd.
And such a franticke passion bred,
Within my neuer resting head,
That euery time I saw her face,
Me thought I stood fore Plutos grace,
VVhilst vnto my calamity was showne
More tortures then on earth are knowne.
Besides I saw, when at first sight,
I was surprizd by beauty bright,
How on her gates hung all along,
Thousands of Chaynes, Ropes, Fetters strong:
Thousands of hearts, many a spoyle,
Of gentle Spirits which tooke the foyle,
Attyr'd in sabell colours sad,
VVith frosty heat, and hot frost clad.
Not farre from thence I might behold,
Millions of errors, selfe-will'd bold,
Thousands of woes without reliefe,
Anguish, Despaire, Ruth, Care and Griefe,
Anger, Disdaine, Burning Desire,
VVhich ouer much seem'd to aspire.
All which did march with tried faith,
Vnder the ensigne of great death.
Resoluing then boldly to enter,
In at this gate of wofull venter,
I tooke Desire to be my guide,
VVhilst Louelike Charon did abide,
13

My ferry-man, yet did not row,
In th'other floud as others doe,
But longst the fiery banks I went,
Through thicke and thinne with darke night spent.
The barke which seemed still to split,
And euery waue to couer it,
Was endlesse feare, and ielousie,
The oares, griefes thoughts, the sailes most hie:
To which my sighes at will did giue
Winds wherewithall the barge to driue.
But must I onwards go and tell,
How I did passe this lake of hell:
Then know so soone as beauty made,
Passage for mee, that I might wade,
Forthwith her cruelty vpon me set,
And stops my passage with strange let:
Makes me conceiue that Cerberus
Appeares in shape most ominous:
And barks on me with open throate,
That I was frighted in my boate.
The first sound of his voyce slue ioy,
The second fill'd me with annoy.
The third depriu'd my heart most cleane
Of euery hope, and left it slaine.
O when I call to memory,
This hard encounter, then I die.
For then it was when quite was broke.
The strongest stay of all my hope:
And without rites of funerall,
There my delights were buried all:
Depriued thus of all reliefe,
And ouerwhelm'd with true hearts griefe,
Full of despaire I could not find,
Ought that had power to ease my mind.
And therefore I beganne againe,
Though past all plaints to plaine amaine:
Which done, that I might onwards go,
From further ill to worser woe.
I was with horror so agast,
That in his throate my heart I cast,
Not to suffice endlesse desire,
For that could ne're her hunger tire.
Passing from thence I might perceiue
Her golden haires which winds did heaue,
14

To be liue serpents venomed,
Crawling like snakes about her head.
This stroke such terror in my brest,
As quite exild from thence all rest,
So that I grew to haue strange fits,
And in the end lost sence and wits.
But when imagination came,
To view her forehead, (seate of Fame)
Me thought a stone fell on me still,
Whose pondrous waight, my soule did kill.
So that were I farre off or no,
Yet still my strong conceite ranne so.
Thus though it fell not, nor did wound,
Yet double was my torment found.
For why, my life but seeming was,
And therein did all death surpasse:
O life farre worse then any death,
To languish with a tedious breath,
Fearing and feard, expecting still
The banefull moment that must kill.
From thence descending downe mine eyes,
Vpon her eye-lids (clouds in skies)
I saw them dyed, to my hearts wracke,
Within forgetfull matters blacke:
Whilst proud Disdaine wth mortall strife,
Sunke to the bottome my poore life,
And there by hand of Desteny,
It was quite drownd maliciously.
Thus following on vaine false desire,
My prowder eyes dar'd to aspire,
Whilst they two radiant starres behold,
Starres which both gods and men controld.
These whilst I viewed I might perceiue
The wicked sisters how they heaue:
Their empty payles, to empty oft,
(although in vaine) which they had brought
From forth the riuer of my teares:
Yet ne're to end their labour weares,
Whilst still the water doth encrease,
Nor from their paines they euer cease.
For more they seeke to emptie it,
The more my teares fill vp that pit.
Nor can it euer be drawne drie,
As long as she harsh cruelty
15

Doth entertaine within her eyes,
Which now she gardeth souldier-wise.
But when within her cheekes I see,
So many louely flowers agree,
So many amours and delights,
Which doe bewitch the noblest sprits,
To toy, to ieast, to sport: the while,
If she but chance to grant one smile,
O then I find that I am bound,
Vpon that wheele goes euer round:
So fast I turne as I no peace,
Can haue, nor ere from turning cease.
O neuer heard of torment strange,
This is my plague, nor can it change.
I flie must from my selfe amaine,
And follow then my selfe againe.
From forth her lips and mouth proceeds,
The Vulture which vpon me feeds,
Making his feathers smooth and good,
Onely by drinking on my bloud.
Yet not so pleas'd, vpon my brest
He feeds and ty'rs without all rest.
Which done, the more to make me rew,
My flesh and entrals grow anew:
So as not being satisfied,
I forc'st am fresh assault to bide,
Whilst breast nor entrals it will spare,
Nor for milde pitie taketh care.
When I behold her throat snow white,
My heart is then in worst worst plight.
For then I make a sure account,
With Sisiphus the hill to mount,
Rolling the waighty stone thereon,
Which soone againe falles him vpon.
O toyling torment too too sure,
For euerlasting to endure,
VVhilst what I fling vp to the hill,
Retorts and falles vpon me still.
Thus doth my trauaile me turmoyle,
Thus time makes torments to recoyle,
Thus to the mountains top I scale.
Thus I descend downe to the vale.
And where my ending should be found,
There's the beginning of my wound,
16

Which like my woes without all end,
Waxe worse and worse, but neuer mend.
Her beauteous bosome did appeare,
A golden fruite, a riuer cleare,
Whilst I like Tantalus did stand
Staru'd yet with foode and drinke at hand.
For when mine open mouth would catch,
Or mine outstretched hand would snatch,
To stanch my thirst or hungers paine,
But all my purposes are vaine:
The Aples quickly doe denay me,
Nor will the water longer stay me.
I cannot taste nor haue a sip,
Though fruite and spring touch mouth and lip.
O false deceitfull hope that thus,
Mak'st my poore soule ridiculous.
The more because (although in vaine)
It is so mockt and put to paine.
Whilst all it wishes it beholdeth,
Yet not the least of all infoldeth.
This is the cause hunger and thirst,
Increase and make me more accurst.
Whilst I for my reliefe doe finde,
Bare shadowes and deceitfull wind.
O ill of ils, still to desire,
Yet neuer quench one sparke of fire:
Descending downwards then apace,
Alongst a secret pleasant place,
I might perceiue it was the way,
To those blest fields where blessed stay
All happie Ghosts, but hard alas,
To finde it seem'd, no path there was:
And I to enter was forbidden,
And all my strong intreaties chidden.
Though ne're so violent and hard,
Yet from those ioyes I was deba'rd:
But woe alas, all men must grieue,
That doe in others trust beleeue.
For there my false guide did forsake me,
And to errors did betake me.
There went he in, the more my moane,
Shutting the gate gainst me alone.
Thus hauing lost both hope and guide,
To enter in by prayers I tride;
17

I knockt aloud, then low and soft,
I offerd giftes and vowes full oft:
And yet for all, all would not serue,
I there was doomb'd to stand and sterue.
Onely I this might heare him speake,
The more my care-torne heart to breake:
Ne're looke to see me any more,
But passe with silence from this dore.
Which iudgement when I had receiued,
T'was vaine to stay, and be denied.
Hence sprang it that I came away,
Accompanied as my sole stay,
With my sad thoughts, whilst I inuayd,
Gainst loue that such a part had plaid
With me, who was to him more true,
Then Sunne had seene, or old Time knew.
Since when I still haue liued alone,
Intomb'd in hell with irksome moane:
Depriu'd of day light, and the Sunne,
A man disgrac'st and all vndone.
This is my fortune and my fate,
This of my life is now the state.
Death more then life I doe endure,
A small reward, for faith so pure.
Had I bene false, I could but trie
The torments due t'inconstancie,
But women wanting moderation,
Linke their loues to euery passion.
Yet come the worst, this prayer I loue,
O let my Mistresse happie proue.

Elegie. III. The complaint of the third Gentleman Disauenturato, who ouercome with an extreme passion of rage, burnt out his owne eyes with the scorching heate of the Sunnes beames.

Behold a Martyr for pure loue,
Who more then common plagues do proue:
All my desires are blasted dead,
My hopes quite dash't and buried.
18

Yet if my soule haue any sence,
And that all is not banisht thence:
Once more ile tell my grieues againe,
T'augment, and not to mend my paine.
'Twas not my lauish tongue o're bold,
Nor iealousie now hot, now cold.
That this my blindnesse to me brought,
But proud eyes onely this hath wrought.
VVhilst on a time I needs would trie,
To gaze vpon a maiestie.
More bright then are the radiant beames,
VVhich from the orient Sunne forth streames.
And when presumption needs would venter,
Into her sacred brest to enter,
VVhose heart like Adamant was strong
Yet was my fault lesse then the wrong.
I did sustaine, since to my cost,
My heart (being there betraid) was lost.
But see the penance I did find,
Mine eyes for pride were striken blind:
And hauing seru'd a tedious space,
Yet more vnlike to purchase grace,
Despairing of all happy fortune,
As one whom madnesse did importune,
I turnd mine eyes against the Sunne,
And praid by him to be vndone:
So long I gazed on his light,
Till quite was burnt out all my sight,
Thinking it better farre for mee,
To loose the light, then liue and see:
And neuer hope I shall obtaine,
That sacred she I sought in vaine.
Hence come the cause, my heart ere since,
Mine eyes of pride doth still conuince,
And most because their follies daine,
To wish and want hope to obtaine.
How oft haue I beheld the Sunne,
And cride out, poore lampe th'art vndone,
Thy vertue neuer had the power,
To doe what this light at this hower
Hath done to me? then if thou dare,
Thy darksome beames with hers compare,
Beleeue it thou wilt blinder bee,
Then thy sharpe beames haue now made mee.
19

Yet I no reason had to grieue,
Or to the Sunne such taunts to giue,
But that I found my selfe ore'throwne,
By that selfe weapon was mine owne.
I had no sence to entertaine
Those foes by whom I still am slaine:
And which my hearts fort hath betraid,
And my losse most eternall made.
O you mine eyes what haue you done,
You such a fatall threed haue spunne,
As still I must on you vnkind,
Complaine, though neuer comfort find.
Alas I pitty others so,
That I am loath the world should know,
That such a beauty, fayre, yet cruell,
Of all my torment is the fuell.
Least seeking on the same to prye,
They chance to proue as blind as I.
Yet will I tell to mine owne shame,
How I was plagu'd, and whence it came.
VVithin a Temple more then faire,
A type of her best beauty rare,
(VVhilst Gods and men I witnesse take,
T'is dutie to die for her sake)
A Temple that all all others farre
Exceeded, being past compare:
(And ouer all the world so fam'd,
Being of holy matter fram'd.)
Was her rare bodie, and so fine,
Compact by Architect diuine,
That he which seeth her will sweare,
In Paradise she formed were.
Vpon th'one faire and th'other soote,
Stands of this building the firme roote,
Making large Basses in the same,
After a daintie nouell frame.
And on the Iuory gate most bright,
Was carued faire in letters white,
In Pities lap, Hope lieth dead:
No man whose entrance here is led
Better must thinke, louers be wise,
And looke you gouerne well your eyes,
Hence bridle your desires o're proud,
And by Loues hand write seald aloud:
20

O you that enter in hereat,
Despaire, no hope comes from this gate.
The precious workmanship which did,
Adorne this Fane, and ne're was hid,
Bright glistering abroad each where,
Were her rich looks, her curled haire,
Lac't vp with pearle, yet they like gold,
Then Sunne more glorious to behold.
The holy Churches sacred quire,
The sight of which (all) did aspire,
Was her rare brest of Adamant,
Where Angels musicke was not scant,
Breathing from thence an holy sound,
Of words, most wise speech, most profound,
The chiefe seates of this quire aboue,
Were her round dugs: in th'one was loue,
In th'other was his mother plac'st,
And both in both these seats were grac'st,
Glory attending on them there,
And make them know no other sphere.
In th'other roomes which are below,
Sit lonely Amours all arow.
Sporting and dallying bout her still,
Yet euer pliant to her will.
The path to that rare Vesterie,
Vnworthy to be seene with eye,
And which no guide hath power to show.
Any how they may thither goe,
Was that sweete honie dulcet way,
Whereas a pleasing death doth stay.
(As watchfull gardian) still thereat,
Not onely not to ope the gate.
To such as doe the same require,
But also euery vaine desire.
And proud thought hindreth there to enter,
Chasing away all haught aduenture.
And if that any spite of Fate,
Perforce will enter in hereat,
Behold then chastitie and feare,
Arm'd at all peeces standeth there,
And eyther doth command retreate,
Or sheweth instant deaths defaite.
The stately pillar which sustaines,
The holy Altars sacred beames,
21

Was that faire Cristaline white throate,
From whence the fire of loue doth smoake.
The goddesse which is worshipt there,
Her beauty is, which hath no peare.
On whom attends with dutiousnesse,
Pleasing delight, sweete louelinesse,
Respectiue Hauiour, Modestie,
Courtlike aspect, high Maiesty.
The sacrifice that offred was,
(By holy Flamins in their Masse)
Before that Image, was mine heart,
Which felt the fires continuall smart,
Onely to please her sacred eyes,
Whose light did dimme the bright daies skies.
And as he consecrates the same,
This humble speech he doth declaime:
Lo here this is his heart whom death,
Canonizeth the best of faith.
Who cannot giue thee more then this,
His true loues spoyles, and liuing blisse,
Whilest he his heart for incense lendeth,
And his best bloud in deare drops spendeth.
The toarches which gaue th'Altar light,
Blazing with beames most cleare and bright,
And that faire lampe which Cupid takes,
VVhen he his fire for louers makes,
VVere her two cheekes, which plainly show
How roses did in Lyllies grow.
Before this sacred Deity,
Arabian incense plenteously,
A rare and precious vessell throwes,
Which was her straight and well form'd nose.
The holy relicke that was plac'st
On the hie Altar richly inchast,
Was th'hidden tongue of her mouth sweete,
Her mouth for Gods then men more meete.
And which if any durst to kisse,
Death was the doome for his amisse.
Of Pearle and Rubie double rowes,
Did stand like guards of armed foes,
Before the Chauncell, to forbid
That none should touch such treasure hid.
A lampe before the Alar was,
Whose flame each glorious shine did passe:
22

Which was the brightnesse of her eyes,
Sparkling so faire in Cupids skies,
As not alone it men did moue,
But heauenly Angels vnto loue.
Now he whose pride dares be so bold,
As this Sunnes beauty to behold,
Be sure his best reward is blindnesse,
His worst is death with much vnkindnesse.
Now he whose Atheisme doth denay,
Her power in this, let him suruey
My martyrdome, and he shall see,
Mine owne woes proues her deity,
The sentences writ in this Fane,
Showing the greatnesse of the goddesse name,
Which as as title was set downe,
To shew her vertues and renowne,
Was her cleare forehead, where did sit
Venus recording holy writ,
Whilst she with her tooke counsell graue,
How loue might make the world her slaue.
The arch and vault of this faire worke,
(Wherein so many graces lurke)
Were her blacke eye-browes, louely, faire,
Form'd like a cressent or a Semiphere,
O're which imagination might
Reade these faire words by darke or light:
O you that see this heauenly story,
With care and reuerence marke her glory,
The wings of th'one and th'other side,
Which equall measure did deuide,
Were her fine armes whose chaine-like frame
Intangled me when first I came
Within this labyrinth of delight,
Whose purchase is my losse of sight.
The walles which this did compasse round,
Were made of mixed stuffe profound,
Halfe Alablaster passing white,
The rest Azure and Cristall bright.
So that without the splendor gaue,
To euery side such lustre braue,
Euen as we see a twinckling starre,
Shine bright thoug ne're in heauen so farre.
The sacrificers which did stand,
In readinesse and at commaund,
23

Religious rites to put in vre,
Were chastest wishes, thoughts most pure,
Murtherers of such as were too bold,
Lasciuious, wanton, vncontrold.
The ornaments and hangings rich,
Of this braue Temple cald None such,
Were chearefull Smiles and Courtesie,
Grace, Honour, Fauour from the eye.
The keeper that this place kept charm'd,
Was her stout heart in diamond arm'd,
Whom loue could neuer gentle make,
Nor euer force it pittie take.
Without the walles, the dore hard by,
You might see stand obsequiously,
A wofull heirse, whose dismall frame
VVas made of sorrow, griefe, and shame.
By which my loyall faith stood mourning,
In sable blacke all comfort scorning,
Performing all the funerall fires,
Belonging to my dead desires.
VVithout all pompe it was perform'd:
VVith no one show of state adorn'd:
Onely made blacke, with the blacke smoake,
VVhich mine oft sighing did prouoke.
This was reseru'd till time should call,
My dead selfe to its funerall,
VVhich day I feele drawes nie and nie,
Through anguish of my misery.
No maruaile though this Temple then,
(VVhich brings all blisse to mortall men)
Haue at the foote a maze or way,
In which continually I stray,
Nor wonder that I am a foole,
Since all I learne is from loues schoole,
His schoole which in this lab'rinth is,
VVhere I am prisoned for my misse.
This and my pride is all the cause,
I am condemned by loues stearne lawes
To liue a president to all mankind,
Because that mine audacious mind
Counsail'd min eyes to view that Sunne,
By whose faire beames I am vndone:
I am vndone, since all my sight,
Is lost by hauing too much light.
24

Which light I saw could conquer loue,
Much more compell me more to loue,
My comfort's this, my Lady's such,
As I cannot endure too much.
For as my punishments are rare,
So she that plagues me is most faire.
And yet no plague, t'is but a toy,
Eternally to beare annoy
For her whose beauty and rare grace,
Filles with true prayses euery place.
FINIS.
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