[Ariostos seven planets governing Italie or his satyrs] [by Robert Tofte] |
 |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. | THE FIFTH SATYRE OF Ariosto. |
| 6. |
| 7. |
 |
 | [Ariostos seven planets governing Italie or his satyrs] |  |
62
THE FIFTH SATYRE OF Ariosto.
The Argvment.
He sheweth by occasion of a certaine kinde of gouernment or Lieutenancy ouer a country which the Duke of Ferrara bestowed vpon him, how vnfit he was for any thing but onely for the Muses. And that to be a louer is the greatest fault and greatest absurdity that any man can commit.
To Master Sigismond Malaguzzo.
This day hath fully sum'd an euen yeare,
Since hither first I made my sad repaire:
(Leauing Ferrara, wher I first drew breath,
By endlesse toile to hasten speedy death)
Since hither first I made my sad repaire:
(Leauing Ferrara, wher I first drew breath,
By endlesse toile to hasten speedy death)
Hither where swift Turrita, Serchio meetes,
Betwixt two bridges whence their billowes fleetes,
Making continuall noise through diuers springs:
Which their owne flowing waters to them brings.
To gouerne as the Duke did me assigne,
Betwixt two bridges whence their billowes fleetes,
Making continuall noise through diuers springs:
Which their owne flowing waters to them brings.
To gouerne as the Duke did me assigne,
His poore distressed flocke of Graffanine,
Which crau'd his aid assoone as Leo died,
Because the Romish yoke they would not bide,
Euen Leo who with much sterne cruelty,
Had brought them to the gate of misery,
And worse had done, but that the mighty hand
Of heauen, did all his tyranny withstand.
And this the first time is in all this while,
That euer I did write or ought compile:
Or to the learned Muses haue made sute,
But dumbly liued, tong-ti'd and sadly mute:
The strangenesse of this place hath so dismaide me,
That like a fearefull bird I durst not play me,
Who hauing chang'd her cage, flutters her wing,
And through amazement scar'd, doth feare to sing.
(Kinde kinseman) that my case is in this sort,
And that from me thou hast not heard report,
Wonder thou not, but rather doe admire,
That in this space my breath did not expire,
Seeing I am an exil'd man, at least
An hundred miles from that I fancie best;
Since riuers, rockes, and mountaines 'boue the skies,
Keepes me from her is dearer then mine eyes.
All other businesses which me concerne,
I can excuse, and from mine ease do learne,
To make my friends conceiue in generall,
That all my greatest faults are veniall.
But to thy selfe I will in plaine phrase speake,
And all mine inward cogitations breake.
To thee I'le shriue my selfe, for thou shalt know,
Both how my wisedome and my follies grow;
Where as to others should I so much tell,
My folly would be made my passing-bell,
To ring my death of wit, whilst with sterne looke,
The world would hardly my confession brooke:
Saying no question he is mighty wise,
Which can see nothing, yet hath both his eyes:
And is most fit to be a foole to other,
When his affects he cannot rule nor smother.
Fie, to be fifty yeares, and yet to glow,
As if I did but fully fifteene know.
And then he tels the Scriptures strictest lawes,
Both Scriu'ners Adages, and olde mens sawes.
Well, though I erre, I am not fully blinde,
But can my blouds fault in large measure finde:
And which is more, I do condemne the same,
And not as others do, defend my shame.
But what auailes my penance, when nearelesse
I know my faults, yet make my faults no lesse,
Or since no precious Antidote I finde.
To heale the ranckling vlcer of my minde?
But thou art wiser, since when thou dost please,
Thou can'st affections sicknesses appease,
Which being hid in man, Nature doth mixe,
And to mans inward soule the same doth fixe.
This is the worst the world of me can say,
Whose ill perhaps may haue a worse display
Then it deserues, although some verball care
They haue of me, when great their sorrowes are,
(And would haue more) if I could this redresse,
And these my fleshly motions quite suppresse.
Those which in this world speake most curiously,
Close in their hearts the deepest iniury.
Thou know'st I know the world hath many a slaue
That will blaspheme, sweare, curse, be mad and raue,
Accusing others that they Cuckolds be,
When his weake iudgement hath no power to see,
How goodly, large and spreading is that horne,
Which his owne forehead many yeares hath borne.
Others diseases euery one can spie,
But none will mend his owne deformity.
We can reproue in strangers what's amisse,
And see not in our selues what vilder is,
We take delight that we can reprehend,
When t'were more generous our selues to mend.
The wallet which behind hangs with sins store,
We neuer see, our eies are both before.
I neither kill, nor strike, nor do contend,
Nor am I hurtfull, but the whole worlds friend;
The worst I doe, is that I onely grieue,
Because I cannot with my mistris liue.
And thinke it torment more then torments be,
To liue from her which onely liues in me,
And yet I not forget t'acknowledge this,
That herein onely I do still amisse:
Yet not so ill but that by intercession,
I may be pardon'd through mine owne confession.
The vulgar sort with water oftentimes,
(Not onely greater faults then my small crimes)
Wash cleane away, but (which breeds greater shame)
Baptizeth vice with noble vertues name.
Hermilan that is growne so couetous,
(As to behold the same, 'tis monstrous)
Nor rests by day, nor slumbers in the night,
But makes his gold his God, and his delight:
No loue of friend or brother will he hold,
Hates his owne selfe, loues nothing but his gold,
Yet is esteem'd a man of industry,
Of perfit wisedome and great policy.
Raynard swels big, and doth disdaine his state,
Lookes as the world would tremble at his hate.
He thinkes himselfe what he can neuer be,
And feedes his hope with idle imagery,
He will surpasse in spending ill-gotten wealth,
And in apparell goes beyond himselfe.
A steward he will haue, a Huntsman, Faulkoner,
A Cooke, a Chamberlen, and a curious Caruer.
Lordships he sels, and makes them flie away,
A mannor or a parke goes euery day.
What his old auncestry had many yeares
Gathred together, and left vnto their heirs,
That with immoderate lauishnes, he spends,
And through the world in all disorder sends.
But what for this? none murmures at his will,
Nor doth demand why he consumes thus ill:
But rather call him most Magnanimous,
Most bountifull, gallant and vertuous.
The common sort, the Hydra multitude,
Thus with their flattery do him delude.
Because the Romish yoke they would not bide,
Euen Leo who with much sterne cruelty,
63
And worse had done, but that the mighty hand
Of heauen, did all his tyranny withstand.
And this the first time is in all this while,
That euer I did write or ought compile:
Or to the learned Muses haue made sute,
But dumbly liued, tong-ti'd and sadly mute:
The strangenesse of this place hath so dismaide me,
That like a fearefull bird I durst not play me,
Who hauing chang'd her cage, flutters her wing,
And through amazement scar'd, doth feare to sing.
(Kinde kinseman) that my case is in this sort,
And that from me thou hast not heard report,
Wonder thou not, but rather doe admire,
That in this space my breath did not expire,
Seeing I am an exil'd man, at least
An hundred miles from that I fancie best;
Since riuers, rockes, and mountaines 'boue the skies,
Keepes me from her is dearer then mine eyes.
All other businesses which me concerne,
I can excuse, and from mine ease do learne,
To make my friends conceiue in generall,
That all my greatest faults are veniall.
But to thy selfe I will in plaine phrase speake,
And all mine inward cogitations breake.
To thee I'le shriue my selfe, for thou shalt know,
Both how my wisedome and my follies grow;
Where as to others should I so much tell,
My folly would be made my passing-bell,
To ring my death of wit, whilst with sterne looke,
The world would hardly my confession brooke:
Saying no question he is mighty wise,
Which can see nothing, yet hath both his eyes:
And is most fit to be a foole to other,
When his affects he cannot rule nor smother.
Fie, to be fifty yeares, and yet to glow,
As if I did but fully fifteene know.
And then he tels the Scriptures strictest lawes,
64
Well, though I erre, I am not fully blinde,
But can my blouds fault in large measure finde:
And which is more, I do condemne the same,
And not as others do, defend my shame.
But what auailes my penance, when nearelesse
I know my faults, yet make my faults no lesse,
Or since no precious Antidote I finde.
To heale the ranckling vlcer of my minde?
But thou art wiser, since when thou dost please,
Thou can'st affections sicknesses appease,
Which being hid in man, Nature doth mixe,
And to mans inward soule the same doth fixe.
This is the worst the world of me can say,
Whose ill perhaps may haue a worse display
Then it deserues, although some verball care
They haue of me, when great their sorrowes are,
(And would haue more) if I could this redresse,
And these my fleshly motions quite suppresse.
Those which in this world speake most curiously,
Close in their hearts the deepest iniury.
Thou know'st I know the world hath many a slaue
That will blaspheme, sweare, curse, be mad and raue,
Accusing others that they Cuckolds be,
When his weake iudgement hath no power to see,
How goodly, large and spreading is that horne,
Which his owne forehead many yeares hath borne.
Others diseases euery one can spie,
But none will mend his owne deformity.
We can reproue in strangers what's amisse,
And see not in our selues what vilder is,
We take delight that we can reprehend,
When t'were more generous our selues to mend.
The wallet which behind hangs with sins store,
We neuer see, our eies are both before.
I neither kill, nor strike, nor do contend,
Nor am I hurtfull, but the whole worlds friend;
The worst I doe, is that I onely grieue,
65
And thinke it torment more then torments be,
To liue from her which onely liues in me,
And yet I not forget t'acknowledge this,
That herein onely I do still amisse:
Yet not so ill but that by intercession,
I may be pardon'd through mine owne confession.
The vulgar sort with water oftentimes,
(Not onely greater faults then my small crimes)
Wash cleane away, but (which breeds greater shame)
Baptizeth vice with noble vertues name.
Hermilan that is growne so couetous,
(As to behold the same, 'tis monstrous)
Nor rests by day, nor slumbers in the night,
But makes his gold his God, and his delight:
No loue of friend or brother will he hold,
Hates his owne selfe, loues nothing but his gold,
Yet is esteem'd a man of industry,
Of perfit wisedome and great policy.
Raynard swels big, and doth disdaine his state,
Lookes as the world would tremble at his hate.
He thinkes himselfe what he can neuer be,
And feedes his hope with idle imagery,
He will surpasse in spending ill-gotten wealth,
And in apparell goes beyond himselfe.
A steward he will haue, a Huntsman, Faulkoner,
A Cooke, a Chamberlen, and a curious Caruer.
Lordships he sels, and makes them flie away,
A mannor or a parke goes euery day.
What his old auncestry had many yeares
Gathred together, and left vnto their heirs,
That with immoderate lauishnes, he spends,
And through the world in all disorder sends.
But what for this? none murmures at his will,
Nor doth demand why he consumes thus ill:
But rather call him most Magnanimous,
Most bountifull, gallant and vertuous.
The common sort, the Hydra multitude,
66
Solonio so much businesse takes in hand,
And meddles so with all things in the land,
That euen the waight is able to confound
The strongest horse that euer trod on ground.
Within the custome-house he hath a charge,
And in the Chancery a Patent large:
To Ports and Keyes immediately he flies,
Where both his profite and commandment lies.
To Castell Angelo then will he scowre,
And all this done in minute of an howre,
The very quintessence of all his braines,
He doth distill to bring the Pope new gaines:
Nor doth his cares or painfull studies end
To any thing saue profite onely tend,
It ioyes his heart when he heares rumor say,
That with his toiles he wastes his life away.
And so that to his Lord he crownes may bring,
He nor respects acquaintance, friend nor kinne.
The people hate him, and they haue good cause,
Since it is true, 'tis he which onely drawes
The Pope to plague the Citie, and still lades
Her with new customes, taxes, and intrudes.
Yet a Magnifico this fellow is,
High stated, and can nothing do amisse.
Whil'st like to Peassants, Noble-men not dare
To come to him, and their great suites declare;
But they must cap and crouch, and bare head stand,
As if he were the Monarch of the land.
And meddles so with all things in the land,
That euen the waight is able to confound
The strongest horse that euer trod on ground.
Within the custome-house he hath a charge,
And in the Chancery a Patent large:
To Ports and Keyes immediately he flies,
Where both his profite and commandment lies.
To Castell Angelo then will he scowre,
And all this done in minute of an howre,
The very quintessence of all his braines,
He doth distill to bring the Pope new gaines:
Nor doth his cares or painfull studies end
To any thing saue profite onely tend,
It ioyes his heart when he heares rumor say,
That with his toiles he wastes his life away.
And so that to his Lord he crownes may bring,
He nor respects acquaintance, friend nor kinne.
The people hate him, and they haue good cause,
Since it is true, 'tis he which onely drawes
The Pope to plague the Citie, and still lades
Her with new customes, taxes, and intrudes.
Yet a Magnifico this fellow is,
High stated, and can nothing do amisse.
Whil'st like to Peassants, Noble-men not dare
To come to him, and their great suites declare;
But they must cap and crouch, and bare head stand,
As if he were the Monarch of the land.
Laurino takes vpon him (of pure zeale)
In vpright iustice, chiefe affaires to deale.
His countrey hee'le defend through his deserts,
Whil'st publike good to priuate he couerts.
Three he exiles, but sixe to death he sends,
Begins a Foxe, but like a Lion ends.
From tyrannie his strength he doth create,
Whil'st gifts and bribes do euen dam vp his gate:
The wicked he doth raise, the good keepes downe,
And yet this man is rich in all renowne;
He is renownd to be both iust and good,
When he is full of whordome, theft and blood.
Where he should honour giue, he giues disgrace,
Malice with pride, and pride with wealth doth place:
Whom he should most releeue, he most offends,
His ope-eyd iustice, loues none but his friends,
Crowes oft for Swans, & Swans he takes for Crows,
Now knew his iustice but my loue-sicke woes,
What sowre faces from him would appeare,
Like him that on a close-stoole straining were?
Well, let him speake his pleasure with the rest,
I care not for their speeches, that's the best;
Onely thee which art mine onely friend,
I do confesse my pleasures are at end,
Since I first hither ('gainst my will) was tost,
My ioyes are gone, and my delights are lost.
This of my reasons I haue chiefest tride,
Though others more I could alleadge beside,
Why I haue left Pernassus learned mount,
Nor with the Muses talk't as I was wont.
Then when with thee in Reggio I did stay,
(My natiue soile) and past the time away,
In all best iouiall solace and delight,
Priding my selfe in waighty verse to write,
Those glorious places did me amply good,
Reuiu'd my spirites and inflam'd my blood.
Thy Mauritanian lodge for banqueting,
With all the worthiest pictures flourishing,
And call my Rodanus not farre from thence,
Of water-nimphes the choisest residence;
Thy crystall fishponds, and thy garden, which
A siluer spring with moisture doth inrich,
Watring by art those checker'd flowers still,
And in the end fal's downe into a Mill:
O how I wish for that and for the rest,
Which whil'st I did enioy my sense was blest.
Nor can my memory forgoe the thought,
Of those braue Vines from fertill Luco brought;
Those valleis, nor those hils, nor that high Tower
Can I forget, where I haue many an hower
Repos'd and search't out every shadowie place,
The Fresco coole I loued to imbrace:
Whil'st I one booke or other would translate,
Which forraine Authors did communicate.
O then I youthfull was and in my prime,
My yeares euen Aprill, or the springs best time,
Which now are like October, somewhat colde:
For I begin, and shall e're long be olde.
But neither can the fountaine Helicon,
Nor Ascras valleies, no nor any one
Be of the power to make my verses sing,
Vnlesse my heart be free from sorrowing:
Which being so, then this place where I dwell,
Is not for study, sith it is my hell,
When here no pleasure is, nor any ioy,
More then dissention, horror and annoy.
This soile I barren and vnwholsome finde,
Subiect to stormes, to tempests and to winde.
One part is hilly, th' other low and plaine,
Wherein there doth no pleasantnesse remaine.
The place wherein I liue is like a cell,
Deepe and descending downeward as to hell.
From thence there's none can come at any time,
Vnlesse he passe the riuer Appenine.
I tell thee gentle Cuz, ill is my taking,
Since thus of all my friends I am forsaken.
For stay I in my house, or to the aire
Seeke to disburden some part of my care,
Nothing I heare but spitefull accusations,
Brawles, brabbles, or more shamefull acclamations,
Murthers and thefts, and such like villanie,
To which I must attend most patiently.
This is the cause I one while am compel'd
With mildest reasons to make some men yeeld,
Others to threaten, and by force to draw,
Others to punish by strict penall law,
Some I absolue, to some I pardon giue,
In hope hereafter they will better liue.
Then to the Duke I straight doe packets write,
For counsaile or for souldiers which must fight,
To th' end those out-lawes which about me stay,
May or be slaine, or driuen quite away:
For one thing I must let thee vnderstand,
That in most wretched state abides this land.
Since the wilde Panther first, the Lyon then,
Did in this wofull countrey make their den,
So many lurking theeues doe here abide,
And in such number flocke on euery side,
As not the best commanders which we haue,
(Whose charge is to pursue them to the graue:
Dares with his ensigns spread, their strengths inuade
Such proofes the slaues haue of their valors made:
So that he wisest is which safe doth stand,
And stirs not to take danger by the hand.
Still I doe write, and write to him againe,
Whom it concernes, but all my labour's vaine:
For though he send (as reason is he should)
Yet he not sends that answere which I would,
Each Castell armes (within it selfe) doth take,
And fourescore three in number they doe make
Of periur'd rebels, who maliciously
Spoile their owne countrey with hostilitie.
Iudge then if great Apollo when I call,
Will come to shew himselfe to me at all,
Leauing his Cynthian or his Delphian shore,
To heare these brabbles, which he doth abhorre,
Both he and all his sacred sisters nine,
To looke vpon such places doe repine.
But here thou maist demand of me the cause,
Which me to this vexation headlong drawes,
Leauing my studie with obscure neglect,
And my deare mistresse without all respect.
In vpright iustice, chiefe affaires to deale.
His countrey hee'le defend through his deserts,
Whil'st publike good to priuate he couerts.
Three he exiles, but sixe to death he sends,
Begins a Foxe, but like a Lion ends.
From tyrannie his strength he doth create,
Whil'st gifts and bribes do euen dam vp his gate:
The wicked he doth raise, the good keepes downe,
69
He is renownd to be both iust and good,
When he is full of whordome, theft and blood.
Where he should honour giue, he giues disgrace,
Malice with pride, and pride with wealth doth place:
Whom he should most releeue, he most offends,
His ope-eyd iustice, loues none but his friends,
Crowes oft for Swans, & Swans he takes for Crows,
Now knew his iustice but my loue-sicke woes,
What sowre faces from him would appeare,
Like him that on a close-stoole straining were?
Well, let him speake his pleasure with the rest,
I care not for their speeches, that's the best;
Onely thee which art mine onely friend,
I do confesse my pleasures are at end,
Since I first hither ('gainst my will) was tost,
My ioyes are gone, and my delights are lost.
This of my reasons I haue chiefest tride,
Though others more I could alleadge beside,
Why I haue left Pernassus learned mount,
Nor with the Muses talk't as I was wont.
Then when with thee in Reggio I did stay,
(My natiue soile) and past the time away,
In all best iouiall solace and delight,
Priding my selfe in waighty verse to write,
Those glorious places did me amply good,
Reuiu'd my spirites and inflam'd my blood.
Thy Mauritanian lodge for banqueting,
With all the worthiest pictures flourishing,
And call my Rodanus not farre from thence,
Of water-nimphes the choisest residence;
Thy crystall fishponds, and thy garden, which
A siluer spring with moisture doth inrich,
Watring by art those checker'd flowers still,
And in the end fal's downe into a Mill:
O how I wish for that and for the rest,
Which whil'st I did enioy my sense was blest.
Nor can my memory forgoe the thought,
70
Those valleis, nor those hils, nor that high Tower
Can I forget, where I haue many an hower
Repos'd and search't out every shadowie place,
The Fresco coole I loued to imbrace:
Whil'st I one booke or other would translate,
Which forraine Authors did communicate.
O then I youthfull was and in my prime,
My yeares euen Aprill, or the springs best time,
Which now are like October, somewhat colde:
For I begin, and shall e're long be olde.
But neither can the fountaine Helicon,
Nor Ascras valleies, no nor any one
Be of the power to make my verses sing,
Vnlesse my heart be free from sorrowing:
Which being so, then this place where I dwell,
Is not for study, sith it is my hell,
When here no pleasure is, nor any ioy,
More then dissention, horror and annoy.
This soile I barren and vnwholsome finde,
Subiect to stormes, to tempests and to winde.
One part is hilly, th' other low and plaine,
Wherein there doth no pleasantnesse remaine.
The place wherein I liue is like a cell,
Deepe and descending downeward as to hell.
From thence there's none can come at any time,
Vnlesse he passe the riuer Appenine.
I tell thee gentle Cuz, ill is my taking,
Since thus of all my friends I am forsaken.
For stay I in my house, or to the aire
Seeke to disburden some part of my care,
Nothing I heare but spitefull accusations,
Brawles, brabbles, or more shamefull acclamations,
Murthers and thefts, and such like villanie,
To which I must attend most patiently.
This is the cause I one while am compel'd
With mildest reasons to make some men yeeld,
Others to threaten, and by force to draw,
71
Some I absolue, to some I pardon giue,
In hope hereafter they will better liue.
Then to the Duke I straight doe packets write,
For counsaile or for souldiers which must fight,
To th' end those out-lawes which about me stay,
May or be slaine, or driuen quite away:
For one thing I must let thee vnderstand,
That in most wretched state abides this land.
Since the wilde Panther first, the Lyon then,
Did in this wofull countrey make their den,
So many lurking theeues doe here abide,
And in such number flocke on euery side,
As not the best commanders which we haue,
(Whose charge is to pursue them to the graue:
Dares with his ensigns spread, their strengths inuade
Such proofes the slaues haue of their valors made:
So that he wisest is which safe doth stand,
And stirs not to take danger by the hand.
Still I doe write, and write to him againe,
Whom it concernes, but all my labour's vaine:
For though he send (as reason is he should)
Yet he not sends that answere which I would,
Each Castell armes (within it selfe) doth take,
And fourescore three in number they doe make
Of periur'd rebels, who maliciously
Spoile their owne countrey with hostilitie.
Iudge then if great Apollo when I call,
Will come to shew himselfe to me at all,
Leauing his Cynthian or his Delphian shore,
To heare these brabbles, which he doth abhorre,
Both he and all his sacred sisters nine,
To looke vpon such places doe repine.
But here thou maist demand of me the cause,
Which me to this vexation headlong drawes,
Leauing my studie with obscure neglect,
And my deare mistresse without all respect.
O Cuz, thou know'st I ne're was couetous,
Nor from ambition haue beene enuious.
With a poore pension I haue beene content,
Which in Ferrara got, I there haue spent:
But thou perhaps this chance didst neuer know,
That when the warres began with vs to grow,
72
With a poore pension I haue beene content,
Which in Ferrara got, I there haue spent:
But thou perhaps this chance didst neuer know,
That when the warres began with vs to grow,
The Duke but slowly did my pension pay,
And at the last did take it quite away.
During the warres I grieu'd not to be barr'd,
Of my best due, but when as after ward,
All things was quiet and the world at peace,
It troubled me to see my payment cease.
And at the last did take it quite away.
During the warres I grieu'd not to be barr'd,
Of my best due, but when as after ward,
All things was quiet and the world at peace,
It troubled me to see my payment cease.
And so much more, since by ill boading fate,
I then had lost an office in the state,
In Millain, through this vnexpected warre,
Hoping in vaine, short time would end the iarre:
Horses do sterue (they say) whil'st grasse doth spring,
And I found he said true that so did sing.
At last vnto the Court I weary came,
And thus my suite vnto the Duke did frame;
My gracious Lord (said I) vouchsafe some gaine
Vnto the elder merits of my paine:
Or suffer me that I may else pursue
My fortunes some where else, and not with you.
The Graffanini at that time by chance,
Began themselues with courage to aduance,
Being perswaded by Marzoccus song,
To leaue the Pope who then had done them wrong;
And thereupon sent many embassies,
Vnto our Duke their mindes to specifie:
Th' effect was this, they did humbly craue,
They might their ancient priuiledges haue,
With their old customes; whereto he's content,
And they forthwith yeeld to his gouernment.
And hence it came out of some sodaine grace,
I chosen was to gouerne in that place,
Either because the time so short did grow,
That well he knew not where he might bestow
The office but on me: or for I best,
Might spared be as one of merite least;
For which I count my selfe with humblenesse,
Bound by this grace vnto his mightinesse.
It is his loue which bindes me to his grace,
For which I thanke him more then for this place,
Which though beyond my spirits it aspire,
Yet doth it not accord with my desire.
Now if about these rebels you demand,
What mine opinion is; it thus doth stand:
They rather did deferue seuerity,
Then any touch of gentle lenity:
For when I do but call into my minde,
How periur'd and perfidious I them finde,
Although what e're I did was still to ease them,
Yet there's no doubt but I did still displease them.
They nor like me, nor I their countrey loue,
And therefore daily pray for my remoue.
In this I do resemble Æsops Cocke,
Who hauing found a pearle, the same did mocke.
A place I haue obtain'd of gaine and fame,
And yet (in sooth) I care not for the same.
I then had lost an office in the state,
In Millain, through this vnexpected warre,
Hoping in vaine, short time would end the iarre:
Horses do sterue (they say) whil'st grasse doth spring,
And I found he said true that so did sing.
At last vnto the Court I weary came,
And thus my suite vnto the Duke did frame;
My gracious Lord (said I) vouchsafe some gaine
Vnto the elder merits of my paine:
Or suffer me that I may else pursue
My fortunes some where else, and not with you.
The Graffanini at that time by chance,
Began themselues with courage to aduance,
Being perswaded by Marzoccus song,
To leaue the Pope who then had done them wrong;
And thereupon sent many embassies,
Vnto our Duke their mindes to specifie:
Th' effect was this, they did humbly craue,
They might their ancient priuiledges haue,
With their old customes; whereto he's content,
And they forthwith yeeld to his gouernment.
And hence it came out of some sodaine grace,
I chosen was to gouerne in that place,
Either because the time so short did grow,
That well he knew not where he might bestow
The office but on me: or for I best,
73
For which I count my selfe with humblenesse,
Bound by this grace vnto his mightinesse.
It is his loue which bindes me to his grace,
For which I thanke him more then for this place,
Which though beyond my spirits it aspire,
Yet doth it not accord with my desire.
Now if about these rebels you demand,
What mine opinion is; it thus doth stand:
They rather did deferue seuerity,
Then any touch of gentle lenity:
For when I do but call into my minde,
How periur'd and perfidious I them finde,
Although what e're I did was still to ease them,
Yet there's no doubt but I did still displease them.
They nor like me, nor I their countrey loue,
And therefore daily pray for my remoue.
In this I do resemble Æsops Cocke,
Who hauing found a pearle, the same did mocke.
A place I haue obtain'd of gaine and fame,
And yet (in sooth) I care not for the same.
As with the Sea Venetian, so with me
It fares, to whom a swift-foot Barbarie,
(A gallant horse) was giuen by the King
Of Portugale for some great meriting,
Who for he would shew that he did accept,
His royall gift, and not the same reiect;
Forgetfull how the difference to discerne,
T'wixt vse of bridles, and the tall ships sterne,
Mounts on his backe, and therewith taketh hold,
Vpon the pomell, like a horse-man bold:
That done he strikes his spurs into his side,
Saying softly to himselfe, for all thy pride,
Thou shalt not fling me downe do what thou can,
If the girthes hold, I'le shew my selfe a man.
The fiery jade, feeling the wounding spurre,
Began to plunge, to bound and keepe a sturre:
Which when the good old Sea-man felt, he more,
Drawes in his bridle then he did before:
And spurs him worse both on the flankes and side,
Till with his blood his riders heeles were dide.
The horse not vsed to be ridden so,
Nor can his riders doubtfull meaning know,
The bridle holding backe, and bidding stand,
The spurre to go on forward doth command;
But in the end, madly resolu'd thereon,
Flat on the ground he flings Sir Pantalon.
Our great Magnifico lies on his backe,
And cries as he were tortur'd on a racke,
With thighes all sore, and shoulders out of ioynt,
His head sore bruis'd, his heart at deaths last point,
All pale with griefe and feare in piteous wise,
Besmear'd with durt, at last he vp doth rise:
Right malecontented that he was so mad,
To deale in that where he no iudgment had.
It fares, to whom a swift-foot Barbarie,
(A gallant horse) was giuen by the King
Of Portugale for some great meriting,
Who for he would shew that he did accept,
His royall gift, and not the same reiect;
Forgetfull how the difference to discerne,
T'wixt vse of bridles, and the tall ships sterne,
Mounts on his backe, and therewith taketh hold,
Vpon the pomell, like a horse-man bold:
That done he strikes his spurs into his side,
Saying softly to himselfe, for all thy pride,
Thou shalt not fling me downe do what thou can,
If the girthes hold, I'le shew my selfe a man.
The fiery jade, feeling the wounding spurre,
Began to plunge, to bound and keepe a sturre:
Which when the good old Sea-man felt, he more,
74
And spurs him worse both on the flankes and side,
Till with his blood his riders heeles were dide.
The horse not vsed to be ridden so,
Nor can his riders doubtfull meaning know,
The bridle holding backe, and bidding stand,
The spurre to go on forward doth command;
But in the end, madly resolu'd thereon,
Flat on the ground he flings Sir Pantalon.
Our great Magnifico lies on his backe,
And cries as he were tortur'd on a racke,
With thighes all sore, and shoulders out of ioynt,
His head sore bruis'd, his heart at deaths last point,
All pale with griefe and feare in piteous wise,
Besmear'd with durt, at last he vp doth rise:
Right malecontented that he was so mad,
To deale in that where he no iudgment had.
Farre better had he done, and so had I,
He with his horse, I with his country,
T'haue said my Liege, or Lord, I am not fit
For this high place, nor doe I merit it.
This bounty doth exceed what I deserue,
Let it some better worthes, and not mine serue,
If eyther I or he had beene thus plaine,
I had had much more ease, he lesser paine.
He with his horse, I with his country,
T'haue said my Liege, or Lord, I am not fit
For this high place, nor doe I merit it.
This bounty doth exceed what I deserue,
Let it some better worthes, and not mine serue,
If eyther I or he had beene thus plaine,
I had had much more ease, he lesser paine.
| [Ariostos seven planets governing Italie or his satyrs] | |