She could devise, and thousand ways invent
To feel her foolish humour and vain jolliment.
Which when far off, Cymochles heard and saw,
He loudly called to such as were aboard
The little bark, unto the shore to draw,
And him to ferry over that deep ford:
The merry mariner unto his word
Soon heark'ned, and her painted boat straightway
Turned to the shore, where that same warlike lord
She in received; but Atin by no way
She would admit, albe the knight her much did pray.
Eftsoons her shallow ship away did slide,
More swift than swallow sheers the liquid sky,
Withouten oar or pilot it to guide,
Or winged canvas with the wind to fly :
Only she turned a pin, and by and by
It cut away upon the yielding wave;
Ne cared she her course for to apply,
For it was taught the way which she would have,
And both from rocks and flats itself could wisely
And all the way the wanton damsel found
New mirth her passenger to entertain;
For she in pleasant purpose did abound,
And greatly joyed merry tales to feign,
Of which a store-house did with her remain,
Yet seemed nothing well they her becaine;
For all her words she drown'd with laughter vain,
And wanted grace in utt'ring of the same,
That turned all her pleasaunce to a scoffing game.
And other whiles vain toys she would devise
As her fantastic wit did most delight:
Sometimes her head she fondly would aguize
With gaudy garlands, or fresh flowrets dight
About her neck, or rings of rushes plight:
Sometimes to do him laugh, she would assay
To laugh at shaking of the leaves light,
Or to behold the water work and play
About her little frigate, therein making way.
Her light behaviour and loose dalliance
Gave wondrous great contentment to the knight,
That of his way he had no sovenaunce,
Nor care of vow'd revenge and cruel fight,
But to weak wench did yield his martial might:
So easy was to quench his flamed mind
With one sweet drop of sensual delight;
So easy is t' appease the stormy wind
Of malice in the calm of pleasant womankind.
Diverse discourses in their way they spent;
'Mongst which Cymochles of her questioned
Both what she was, and what the usage meant,
Which in her cot she daily practised?
"Vain man!" said she," that wouldst be reckoned
A stranger in thy home, and ignorant
Of Phœdria (for so my name is read)
Of Phædria, thine own fellow-servant :
For thou to serve Acrasia thyself dost vaunt.
In this wide inland sea, that hight by name
The Idle Lake, my wandring ship I row,
That knows her port, and thither sails by aim,
Ne care ne fear I how the wind do blow,
Or whether swift I wend or whether slow:
Both slow and swift alike do serve my turn:
Ne swelling Neptune, ne loud-thund'ring Jove,
Can change my cheer, or make me ever mourn ;
My little boat can safely pass this perilous bourne."
Whiles thus she talked, and whiles thus she toy'd,
They were far past the passage which he spake,
And come unto an island waste and void,
That floated in the midst of that great lake;
There her small gondelay her port did make,
And that gay pair issuing on the shore
Disburthen'd her: their way they forward take
Into the land that lay them fair before,
Whose pleasaunce she him shew'd, and plentiful great store.
It was a chosen plot of fertile land,
Amongst wide waves set like a little nest,
As if it had by Nature's cunning hand
Been choicely picked out from all the rest,
And laid forth for ensample of the best:
No dainty flower or herb that grows on ground,
Nor arboret with painted blossoms drest,
And smelling sweet, but there it might be found To bud out fair, and throw her sweet smells all around.
No tree, whose branches did not bravely spring;
No branch, whereon a fine bird did not sit;
No bird, but did her shrill notes sweetly sing;
song, but did contain a lovely dit.
Trees, branches, birds, and songs, were framed fit
For to allure frail mind to careless ease.
Careless the man soon woxe, and his weak wit
Was overcome of thing that did him please:
So pleased, did his wrathful purpose fair appease.
Thus when she had his eyes
With false delights, and fill'd with pleasures vain, Into a shady dale she soft him led,
And laid him down upon a grassy plain,
And her sweet self, without dread or disdain,
She set beside, laying his head disarm'd
In her loose lap, it softly to sustain,
Where soon he slumber'd, fearing not be harm'd; The whiles with a love-lay she thus him sweetly charm'd:
"Behold, O man! that toilsome pains dost take, The flowers, the fields, and all that pleasant grows,
How they themselves do thine ensample make, Whiles nothing envious Nature them forth throws Out of her fruitful lap: how no man knows
They spring, they bud, they blossom fresh and fair,
And deck the world with their rich pompous shows; Yet no man for them taketh pains or care,
Yet no man to them can his careful pains compare.
"The lily, lady of the flow'ring field,
The flower-de-luce, her lovely paramour,
Bid thee to them thy fruitless labours yield,
And soon leave off this toilsome weary stour;
Lo, lo! how brave she decks her bounteous bower,
With silken curtains and gold coverlets,
Therein to shroud her sumptuous belamoure;
Yet neither spins nor cards, ne cares nor frets;
But to her mother Nature all her care she lets.
"Why then dost thou, O Man, that of them all
Art lord, and eke of Nature sovereign,
Wilfully make thyself a wretched thrall,
And waste thy joyous hours in needless pain,
Seeking for danger and adventure vain ?
What boots it all to have and nothing use?
Who shall him rue that, swimming in the main,
Will die for thirst, and water doth refuse?
Refuse such fruitless toil and present pleasures choose."
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