A Courtlie controuersie of Cupids Cautels Conteyning fiue Tragicall Histories, very pithie, pleasant, pitiful, and profitable: Discoursed uppon wyth Argumentes of Loue, by three Gentlemen and two Gentlewomen, entermedled with diuers delicate Sonets and Rithmes, exceeding delightfull to refresh the yrkesomnesse of tedious tyme. Translated out of French as neare as our English phrase will permit, by H. VV. Gentleman [i.e. Henry Wotton] |
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The complaint of the ciuill warres of Fraunce.
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 | A Courtlie controuersie of Cupids Cautels |  |
The complaint of the ciuill warres of Fraunce.
1
VVhat kinde of newe suspectDoth grudge my broylyng breaste?
VVhat griping griefe, or straunge conceite,
Bereaues my minde of reste?
VVhat horrour new at hande
Doth dull my senses so?
VVhat slicing blade doth cutte my gale
By force of mortall foe?
11
So fiercely me assayles,
As still me thinkes, I feele hym teare
My hearte with goarye nayles.
2
The flames of Ætna mounte,VVhose smoothers pierce the aire,
Consumes not so, as I doe waste,
VVith enuy, rage and care,
To viewe in euery coaste,
The gamisons so thicke,
Of brainsicke souldiours, whom the spoiles
Of natiue soile doth pticke,
And headlong doth enforce,
To baine the fieldes in bloode
Of countrey soules, without remorse
Of Fraunce their mother good.
3
VVith sorrowe I consume,Like snowe againste the Sunne,
Mine eies with teares like flowing streames
Continually doe runne:
My face with ashes foule,
My golden tresse is shorne,
My hearte in sorrowe closed fast,
My pleasant dayes are worne,
My pinching pining pangs
My penne shall nowe disclose,
The worlde shal knowe my driery playntes
The cause of these my vvoes.
4
My sadde and pensiue song.Runne with dispersed lockes:
Proclayme my griefe in dolefull tunes,
Among the woodes and rockes
Goe cladde in mourners weede,
Trusse vp thy garmentes rounde,
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Doe there my verses sounde.
VVhere Arno floudes, and Po,
VVith Eccho may reporte
My sighes, my sobbes, and harde mishap,
To suche as there resorte.
5
Tell them the Frenchmen they,VVho by their valiant might,
So oftentymes in fierce conflictes
Their armies put to flighte,
Nowe doubte and feare themselues,
Nowe doe they seeke no more
Reuenge of wrong receyude, they seeks
To salue their present sore.
Tell Italy alas,
That Milan neede not feare,
But liue in peace with Naples nowe,
That Fraunce is in dispaire.
6
Tell Germany la bas,VVhere Mos the running flood,
Doth leade his course by mount & rocke,
Through many a dale and wood
VVhose people taught to crouche,
By force of our assaultes,
Constraynde to flee their walled Townes,
And hide themselues in vaultes:
VVishe them and those that holde
The fruitfull bankes of Rhine,
Like brethren now to length our liues,
VVith some reliefe in tyme.
7
You Europe Princes all,VVhiche sometime sought for peace,
Thereby to staye the Frenchmens force
Their kingdome to encreace,
13
Coulde not in forrayne soyle
Resiste, afflicted nowe you seeke
Like carion crowes to spoile:
Not one is absent nowe,
The carkasse to deuoure,
VVhose fleshe then in your greedy mawes
Had made your sauce but sowre.
8
Thus is the Lion stoute,VVhome euery beaste did feare,
Assailed nowe, and marched on
Of euery trembling hare.
Oh Fraunce, whose mightie power,
And famous highe renoume,
Surmounted for hir valiantnesse
Eche country king and towne,
VVhat dire mishap more harde,
VVhat more vnhappy ende,
Coulde fortune frame, than force perforce
Thy fame to ruine sende.
9
Must needes thy fatall blade,Not hauing whome to kill,
Againste thy selfe his bloudy rage
In fury worke his will?
As noble Romaines did,
The conquerours of all,
VVho after thousand battels wonne
Did worke their fatall fall,
VVhen rancor taking roote,
Their mightie hande did arme
Against themselues, to rue the liues
They shoulde haue kept from harme.
10
As he that hath the goute,Doth dayly wishe for death,
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VVoulde stop his vitall breath:
Or as the man that liues
In painefull pangs, doth crie
And call for death, to end his griefe,
And yet hee can not die,
But takes some poysned drugge
At laste to ende his life:
So Fraunce by murthering man and child
VVoulde ende our cankred strife.
11
The roaring Lion fierce,Or furious Leoperds rage,
VVith no suche frensie trackes they pray
Their hunger to asswage:
Nor Tigre dothe pursue
More greedely, the thiefe
That steales hir yong, or faster packes
To giue hir whelpes reliefe,
Than doth our scattered troupes,
In armes with fury fraughte,
Againste themselues suche slaughter make
As bringeth all to naught.
12
The fieldes are bathed in the bloud,Euen of their children deare,
And churchyards now of common groundes
Doe euery where appeare:
And cankred spighte hath wrought
By heapes of bodies dead,
That frothye ryuers whyte as mylke
Are dyed scarlet redde.
Thus eche man vrged on
By madde reuenging moodes,
Lyke franticke fooles do quite forget
The losse of wife and goodes.
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The father dothe not spare,To bathe his bloudy knife,
VVithin the bowels of the babe
That by himselfe had lyfe:
The childe nowe growne a man,
Cuttes off his syers head,
And dothe reioice with mery moode
To see his father deade:
The brother feares his ende,
Leaste brother do aduaunce,
Thus all estates to ruine runne,
Throughout the realme of Fraunce.
14
The mischiefe wrought by men,The battering Cannons shotte,
Destroyeth castels, fortes, and townes,
That valiant Princes gotte.
The auncient myghtie walles,
VVhere stately Cities stoode,
Lies flatte and beaten to the earth,
Imbrude in Burgers bloode.
The wealth we wallowed in
Before our wofull wracke,
Conuerted is by country foes,
To pillage, spoyle, and sacke.
15
The reuerend aged siresObeye these lawlesse mates,
VVho lyke vnbridled Helhoundes, beare
Of men the onely shapes:
They dayly seeke to haue
The vvealth man can not giue,
So they do get, they do not force
Howe hardly others lyue.
The olde distressed dames
Doe rende their grisly heare,
To see the maydes by bloudy beastes,
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Oh tiranny vniuste,Oh crueltie vnkinde,
My heare with horrour stands on end,
In vttering of my minde:
You people neyghbours nere,
Yet farre from any blowe,
Bewaile the state of our decay,
Lament our ouerthrowe.
And though our ship do sincke
In viewe of you on shore,
Let not the storme that works our wracke,
Make you reioice the more.
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Quake at our hard mishap,Least you befall the like,
For where the blind doth leade the blinde,
Bothe fall into the dyke.
Your kindled neighbours house,
May cause you feare youre owne:
VVho dreades no harme that maye ensue,
Is soonest ouerthrowne.
VVherfore consider freendes,
That yet liue in delyghtes,
How Dogs and Rauens your fathers flesh,
Deuoured in your syghtes.
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Alas, shal euermoreOur woes engraued lye,
VVith sighes, in brasse and marble stone,
The bookes of memorie:
VVherein discyphred bee
The discordes and the death
Of many a noble valiant wight,
Too soone bereft of breath
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Theyr orphanes dolefull teares,
VVith cryes of poore exiled soules,
Apparantly appeares.
19
There may you viewe with feare,Howe daungerous a thing
Ill councell is in tender yeares,
To ouerthrow a king.
The seas be calme and smoothe
VVe dayly see by kynde,
No billowe mountes, but by the force
Of boysterous stormye wynde.
So royall Princes loue,
To lyue where vertue is,
If Sycophantes or Parasites
Enformde them not amisse.
20
Our realme had happie bene,Thou Prince to vertue borne,
If that by thy too lyght beleefe,
Thy subiects now forlorne,
Had neuer felte thy powre
VVith sworde and Cannon shot,
VVhereby our lande destroyed lies,
And famous Fraunce forgot,
Yea thy renoume and fame
Is buried with the reste,
Of Castels, Townes, and battered fortes,
VVhiche once a king possest.
| A Courtlie controuersie of Cupids Cautels | |