« PreviousContinue »
But if that life ye vnto me decree,
Then let mee liue, as louers ought to do,
And of my lifes deare loue beloued be:
And if he shall through pride your doome vndo,
Do you by duresse him compell thereto,
And in this prison put him here with me:
One prison fittest is to hold vs two:
So had I rather to be thrall, then free;
Such thraldome or such freedome let it surely be.
But O vaine iudgement, and conditions vaine,
The which the prisoner points vnto the free,
The whiles I him condemne, and deeme his
He where he list goes loose, and laughes at me.
So euer loose, so euer happy be.
But where so loose or happy that thou art,
Know Marinell that all this is for thee.
With that she wept and wail'd, as if her hart
Would quite haue burst through great abun-
dance of her smart.
Then did he cast to steale her thence away,
And with him beare, where none of her might
But all in vaine: for why he found no way
To enter in, or issue forth below:
For all about that rocke the sea did flow.
And though vnto his will she giuen were,
Yet without ship or bote her thence to row,
He wist not how her thence away to bere ;
And daunger well he wist long to continue there.
At last when as no meanes he could inuent,
Backe to him selfe he gan returne the blame,
That was the author of her punishment;
And with vile curses, and reprochfull shame
To damne him selfe by euery euill name;
And deeme vnworthy or of loue or life
That had despisde so chast and faire a dame,
Which him had sought through trouble and
Yet had refusde a God that her had sought to
All which complaint when Marinell had heard, In this sad plight he walked here and there,
And vnderstood the cause of all her care
To come of him, for vsing her so hard,
His stubborne heart, that neuer felt misfare
Was toucht with soft remorse and pitty rare ;
That euen for griefe of minde he oft did grone,
And inly wish, that in his powre it weare
Her to redresse: but since he meanes found none
He could no more but her great misery bemone.
Thus whilst his stony heart with tender ruth
Was toucht, and mighty courage mollifide,
Dame Venussonne that tameth stubborne youth
With iron bit, and maketh him abide,
Till like a victor on his backe he ride,
Into his mouth his maystring bridle threw,
That made him stoupe, till he did him bestride:
Then gan he make him tread his steps anew,
And learne to loue, by learning louers paines to
Now gan he in his grieued minde deuise,
How from that dungeon he might her enlarge:
Some while he thought, by faire and humble
To Proteus selfe to sue for her discharge:
But then he fear'd his mothers former charge
Gainst womens loue, long giuen him in vaine.
Then gan he thinke, perforce with sword and
Her forth to fetch, and Proteus to constraine:
But soone he gan such folly to forthinke againe.
And romed round about the rocke in vaine,
As he had lost him selfe, he wist not where ;
Oft listening if he mote her heare againe ;
And still bemoning her vnworthy paine.
Like as an Hynde whose calfe is falne vnwares
Into some pit, where she him hearescomplaine,
An hundred times about the pit side fares,
Right sorrowfully mourning her bereaued cares.
And now by this the feast was throughly ended,
And euery one gan homeward to resort.
Which seeing Marinell, was sore offended,
That his departure thence should be so short,
And leaue his loue in that sea-walled fort.
Yet durst he not his mother disobay,
But her attending in full seemly sort,
Did march amongst the many all the way:
And all the way did inly mourne, like one astray.
Being returned to his mothers bowre,
In solitary silence far from wight,
He gan record the lamentable stowre,
In which his wretched loue lay day and night,
For his deare sake, that ill deseru'd that plight:
The thought whereof empierst his hart so deepe,
That of no worldly thing he tooke delight;
Ne dayly food did take, ne nightly sleepe,
But pyn'd, and mourn'd, and languisht, and
alone did weepe.
Therefore to Tryphon she againe doth hast,
And him doth chyde as false and fraudulent,
That fayld the trust, which shein him had plast,
To cure her sonne, as he his faith had lent
Who now was falne into new languishment
Of his old hurt, which was not throughly cured.
So backe he came vnto her patient,
Where searching euery part, her well assured,
That it was no old sore, which his new paine
But that it was some other maladie,
Orgriefe vnknowne, which he couldnot discerne: So left he her withouten remedie. [earne, Then gan her heart to faint, and quake, and And inly troubled was, the truth to learne. Vnto himselfe she came, and him besought, Now with faire speches, now with threatnings sterne,
If ought lay hidden in his grieued thought, It to reueale: who still her answered, there was nought.
Nathlesse she rested not so satisfide,
But leauing watry gods, as booting nought,
Vnto the shinie heauen in haste she hide,
And thence Apollo King of Leaches brought.
Apollo came; who soone as he had sought
Through his disease, did by and by out find,
That he did languish of some inward thought,
The which afflicted his engrieued mind;
Which loue he red to be, that leads each liuing
Which when he had vnto his mother told,
She gan thereat to fret, and greatly grieue.
And comming to her sonne, gan first to scold,
And chyde at him, that made her misbelieue:
But afterwards she gan him soft to shrieue,
And wooe with faire intreatie, to disclose,
Which of the Nymphes his heart so sore did
For sure she weend it was some one of those, Which he had lately seene, that for his loue he