Daniel, Samuel
The Complaint of Rosamond
Poems and A Defence of Ryme. Arthur Colby Sprague, ed. Chicago and London: The University of Chicago Press, 1965
1591
DanRosa36
An Ode
Nowe each creature ioyes the other,
Passing happy daies and howers:
One byrd reports unto another,
In the fall of silver showers,
Whilst the earth our common mother,
Hath her bosome deckt with flowers.
Whilst the greatest torch of heaven,
With bright rayes warmes Floras lappe:
Making nights and dayes both even,
Cheering plants with fresher sappe:
My field of flowers quite be-reaven,
Wants refresh of better happe.
Eccho daughter of the ayre,
Babbling gheste of Rocks and Hills,
Knowes the name of my fearce Fayre,
And soundes the accents of my ills:
Each thing pitties my dispaire,
Whilst that she her Lover kills.
Whilst that she O cruell Maide,
Doth me, and my true love dispise:
My lives florish is decayde
That depended on her eyes:
But her will must be obaide,
And well he`ends for love who dies.
FINIS
DanRosa39
THE COMPLAINT OF
ROSAMOND.
OVT from the horror of infernall deepes,
My poore afflicted ghost comes heere to plaine it:
Attended with my shame that never sleepes,
The spot wherewith my kinde, and youth did staine it:
My body found a grave where to containe it,
A sheete could hide my face, but not my sin,
For Fame finds never tombe t`inclose it in.
And which is worse, my soule is nowe denied,
Her transport to the sweet Elisean rest,
The joyful blisse for ghosts repurified,
The ever springing Gardens of the blest,
Caron denies me wastage with the rest.
And sayes my soule can never passe that River,
Till Lovers sighes on earth shall it deliver.
So shall I never passe; for how should I
Procure this sacrifice amongst the living?
Time hath long since worne out the memorie,
Both of my life, and lives uniust depriving:
Sorrow for me is dead for aye reviving.
Rosamond hath little left her but her name,
And that disgrac`d, for time hath wrong`d the
(same.
No Muse suggests the pittie of my case,
Each penne dooth overpasse my just complaint,
Whilst others are preferd, though farre more base:
Shores wife is grac`d, and passes for a Saint;
Her Legend justifies her foule attaint;
Her well-told tale did such compassion finde,
That she is pass`d, and I am left behinde.
DanRosa40
Which seene with griefe, my myserable ghost,
(Whilome inuested in so faire a vaile,
Which whilst it liv`d, was honoured of the most,
And being dead, gives matter to bewaile)
Comes to sollicit thee, since others faile,
To take this taske, and in thy wofull Song
To forme my case, and register my wrong.
Although I knowe thy just lamenting Muse,
Toylde in th`affliction of thine owne distresse,
In others cares hath little time to use,
And therefore maist esteeme of mine the lesse:
Yet as thy hopes attend happie redresse,
Thy joyes depending on a womans grace,
So move thy minde a wofull womans case.
Delia may happe to deygne to read our story,
And offer up her sigh among the rest,
Whose merit would suffice for both our glorie,
Whereby thou might`st be grac`d, and I be blest,
That indulgence would profit me the best;
Such powre she hath by whom thy youth is lead,
To joy the living and to blesse the dead.
So I through beautie made the wofull`s wight,
By beautie might have comfort after death:
That dying fayrest, by the fayrest might
Finde life above on earth, and rest beneath:
She that can blesse us with one happy breath,
Give comfort to thy Muse to doe her best.
That thereby thou maist joy, and I might rest.
Thus saide: forthwith mou`d with a tender care
And pittie, which my selfe could never finde:
What she desir`d, my Muse deygn`d to declare,
DanRosa41
And therefore will`d her boldly tell her minde:
And I more willing tooke this charge assignd,
Because her griefes were worthy to be knowne,
And telling hers, might hap forget mine owne.
Then write quoth shee the ruine of my youth,
Report the downe-fall of my slippery state:
Of all my life reveale the simple truth,
To teach to others, what I learnt too late:
Exemplifie my frailtie, tell howe Fate
Keepes in eternall darke our fortunes hidden,
And ere they come, to know them tis forbidden.
For whilst the sunn-shine of my fortune lasted,
I ioy`d the happiest warmth, the sweetest heat
That ever yet imperious beautie tasted,
I had what glory ever flesh could get:
But this faire morning had a shamefull set;
Disgrace darkt honor, sinne did clowde my brow,
As note the sequel, and Ile tell thee how.
The blood I staind was good and of the best,
My birth had honor, and my beautie fame:
Nature and Fortune ioyn`d to make me blest,
Had I had grace t`have knowne to use the same:
My education shew`d from whence I came,
And all concur`d to make me happy furst,
That so great hap might make me more accurst.
Happie liv`d I whilst Parents eye did guide,
The indiscretion of my feeble wayes:
And Country home kept me from being eyde,
Where best unknowne I spent my sweetest dayes;
Till that my frindes mine honour sought to rayse,
To higher place, which greater credite yeeldes,
Deeming such beauty was unfit for feeldes.
DanRosa42
From Country then to Court I was preferr`d,
From calme to stormes, from shore into the deepes:
There where I perish`d, where my youth first err`d:
There where I lost the Flowre which honour keepes;
There where the worser thrives, the better weepes;
Ah me poore wench, on this unhappy shelfe
I grounded me, and cast away my selfe.
For thither com`d, when yeeres had arm`d my youth
With rarest proofe of beautie ever seene:
When my reviving eye had learnt the truth,
That it had powre to make the winter greene,
And flowre affections whereas none had beene:
Soone could I teach my browe to tyrannize,
And make the world do homage to mine eyes.
For age I saw, though yeeres with cold conceit,
Congeald theyr thoughts against a warme desire:
Yet sigh their want, and looke at such a baite,
I saw how youth was waxe before the fire:
I saw by stealth, I fram`d my looke a lire,
Yet well perceiv`d how Fortune made me then,
The envy of my sexe, and wonder unto men.
Looke how a Comet at the first appearing,
Drawes all mens eyes with wonder to behold it:
Or as the saddest tale at suddaine hearing,
Makes silent listning unto him that told it:
So did my speech when rubies did unfold it;
So did the blasing of my blush appeere,
T`amaze the world, that holds such sights so deere.
Ah beauty Syren, fayre enchaunting good,
Sweet silent rethorique of perswading eyes:
Dombe eloquence, whose powre doth move the blood,
DanRosa43
More then the words, or wisedome of the wise:
Still harmonie, whose diapason lyes
Within a brow, the key which passions move,
To rauish sence, and play a world in love.
What might I then not doe whose powre was such?
What cannot women doe that know theyr powre?
What women knowes it not I feare too much,
How blisse or bale lyes in theyr laugh or lowre?
Whilst they enjoy their happy blooming flowre,
Whilst nature decks her with her proper fayre
Which cheeres the worlde, joyes each sight,
(sweetens th`ayre.
Such one was I, my beautie was mine owne,
No borrowed blush which banck-rot beauties seeke:
The new-found shame, a sinne to us unknowne,
Th`adulterate beauty of a falsed cheeke:
Vild staine to honor and to women eeke,
Seeing that time our fading must detect,
Thus with defect to cover our defect.
Impiety of times, chastities abator,
Falshod, wherein thy selfe, thy selfe deniest:
Treason, to counterfiet the seale of nature,
The stampe of heaven, impressed by the hiest.
Disgrace unto the world, to whom thou lyest,
Idol unto thy selfe, shame to the wise,
And all that honors thee idolatrise.
Farre was that sinne from us whose age was pure,
When simple beautie was accounted best,
The time when women had no other lure
But modestie, pure cheekes, a vertuous brest:
DanRosa44
This was the pompe wherewith my youth was blest;
These were the weapons which mine honour wunne
In all the conflicts that mine eyes begunne.
Which were not small, I wrought on no meane object;
A Crowne was at my feete, Scepters obaide mee:
Whom Fortune made my King, Love made my Subject,
Who did commaund the Land, most humbly praid mee:
Henry the second, that so highly weigh`d mee,
Founde well by proofe the priviledge of Beautie,
That it hath powre to counter-maund all duetie.
For after all his victories in Fraunce,
Tryumphing in the honour of his deedes:
Unmatch`d by sword, was vanquisht by a glaunce,
And hotter warres within his bosome breedes:
Warres whom whole Legions of desires feedes,
Against all which my chastity opposes,
The fielde of honour, vertue never loses.
No armour might bee founde that coulde defend,
Transpearcing rayes of Christall-pointed eyes:
No Stratagem, no reason could amend,
No not his age; yet olde men should be wise:
But shewes decieve, outward appearance lyes;
Let none for seeming so, thinke Saints of others,
For all are men, and all have suckt their Mothers.
Who would have thought, a Monarch would have ever
Obayed his handmaide, of so meane a state;
Vultur ambition feeding on his lyuer,
Age having worne his pleasures out of date:
But happe comes never or it comes too late,
For such a daintie which his youth found not,
Unto his feeble age did chaunce allot.
DanRosa45
Ah Fortune never absolutely good,
For that some crosse still counterchecks our luck:
As heere beholde th`incompatible blood,
Of age and youth was that whereon we stuck:
Whose loathing, we from natures brests do suck,
As opposit to what our blood requires;
For equall age doth equall like desires.
But mightie men in highest honor sitting,
Nought but applause and pleasure can behold:
Sooth`d in their liking, carelesse what is fitting,
May not be suffred once to thinke the`are old:
Not trusting what they see, but what is told.
Miserable fortune to forget so farre,
The state of flesh, and what our frailties are.
Yet must I needes excuse so great defect,
For drinking of the Lethe of myne eyes:
H`is forc`d forget himselfe, and all respect
Of maiestie whereon his state relyes:
And now of loves, and pleasures must devise.
For thus reviv`d againe, he serves and su`th,
And seekes all meanes to undermine my youth.
Which never by assault he could recover,
So well incamp`d in strength of chaste desires:
My cleane-arm`d thoughts repell`d an unchast lover,
The Crowne that could commaund what it requires,
I lesser priz`d then chastities attires,
Th`unstained vaile, which innocents adornes,
Th`ungathred Rose, defended with the thornes.
And safe mine honor stoode till that in truth,
One of my Sexe, of place, and nature bad:
Was set in ambush to intrap my youth,
DanRosa46
One in the habit of like frailtie clad,
One who the liv`ry of like weakenes had.
A seeming Matrone, yet a sinfull monster,
As by her words the chaster sort may conster.
Shee set upon me with the smoothest speech,
That Court and age could cunningly devise:
The one autentique made her fit to teach,
The other learnt her how to subtelise:
Both were enough to circumuent the wise.
A document that well may teach the sage,
That there`s no trust in youth, nor hope in age.
Daughter (saith she) behold thy happy chaunce,
That hast the lot cast downe into thy lap,
Whereby thou maist thy honor great aduaunce,
Whilst thou (unhappy) wilt not see thy hap:
Such fond respect thy youth doth so inwrap,
T`oppose thy selfe against thine owne good fortune,
That points thee out, and seemes thee to
(importuen.
Doost thou not see how that thy King thy Iove,
Lightens foorth glory on thy darke estate:
And showres downe golde and treasure from above,
Whilst thou doost shutte thy lappe against thy fate:
Fye fondling fye, thou wilt repent too late
The error of thy youth; that canst not see
What is the fortune that dooth followe thee.
Thou must not thinke thy flowre can alwayes florish,
And that thy beautie will be still admired:
But that those rayes which all these flames doe nourish,
Canceld with Time, will have their date expyred,
And men will scorne what now is so desired:
DanRosa47
Our frailtyes doome is written in the flowers,
Which florish now and fade ere many howers.
Reade in my face the ruines of my youth,
The wracke of yeeres upon my aged brow:
I have beene faire, I must confesse the trueth,
And stoode uppon as nice respects as thow;
I lost my time, and I repent it now;
But were I to beginne my youth againe,
I would redeeme the time I spent in vayne.
But thou hast yeeres and priviledge to use them,
Thy priviledge doth beare beauties great seale:
Besides, the law of nature doth excuse them,
To whom thy youth may have a just appeale:
Esteeme not fame more then thou doost thy weale,
Fame, wherof the world seemes to make such
Is but an Eccho, and an idle voyce. (choyce:
Then why should thys respect of honor bound us,
In th`imaginary lists of reputation?
Titles which cold severitie hath found us,
Breath of the vulgar, foe to recreation:
Melancholies opinion, customs relation; (fayre,
Pleasures plague, beauties scourge, hell to the
To leave the sweete for Castles in the ayre.
Pleasure is felt, opinion but conceau`d,
Honor, a thing without us, not our owne:
Whereof we see how many are bereau`d,
Which should have rep`d the glory they had sowne,
And many have it, yet unworhty knowne.
So breathes his blasts this many-headed beast,
Whereof the wisest have esteemed least.
DanRosa48
The subtile Citty-women better learned,
Esteeme them chast ynough that best seeme so:
Who though they sport, it shall not be discerned,
Their face bewraies not wht their bodies doe:
Tis warie walking that doth safliest goe.
With shew of vertue, as the cunning knowes,
Babes are beguild with sweetes, and men with
(showes.
Then use thy tallent, youth shall be thy warrant,
And let not honor from thy sports detract:
Thou must not fondly thinke thy selfe transparent,
That those who see thy face can judge the fact;
Let her have shame that cannot closely act.
And seeme the chast, which is the cheesest arte,
For what we seeme each sees, none knowes our
(harte.
The mightie who can with such sinnes dispence,
In steed of shame doe honors great bestow:
A worthie author doth redeeme th`offence,
And makes the scarelet sinne as white as snow.
The Majestie that doth descend so low,
Is not defilde, but pure remaines therein:
And being sacred, sanctifies the sin.
What, doost thou stand on thys, that he is olde,
Thy beauty hath the more to worke uppon:
Thy pleasures want shal be supply`d with gold,
Cold age dotes most when the heate of youth is gone:
Enticing words prevaile with such a one,
Alluring shewes most deepe impression strikes,
For age is prone to credite what it likes.
Heere interupt she leaves me in a doubt,
When loe began the combat in my blood:
DanRosa49
Seeing my youth inuirond round about,
The ground uncertaine where my reasons stood;
Small my defence to make my party good,
Against such powers which were so surely layde,
To overthrow a poore unskilful mayde.
Treason was in my bones my selfe conspyring,
To sell my selfe to lust, my soule to sinne:
Pure-blushing shame was even in retiring,
Leaving the sacred hold it glory`d in.
Honor lay prostrate for my flesh to win,
When cleaner thoughts my weakenes can upbray
Against my selfe, and shame did force me say.
Ah Rosamond, what doth thy flesh prepare,
Destruction to thy dayes, death to thy fame:
Wilt thou betray that honor held with care,
T`intombe with blacke reproch a spotted name,
Leaving thy blush the collours of thy shame.
Opening thy feete to sinne, thy soule to lust,
Gracelesse to lay thy glorie in the dust.
Nay first let th`earth gape wide to swallow thee,
And shut thee up in bosome with her dead:
Ere Serpent tempt thee taste forbidden tree,
Or feele the warmth of an unlawfull bed:
Suffring thy selfe by lust to be misled;
So to disgrace thy selfe and grieve thine heires,
That Cliffords race should scorne thee one of
(theyrs.
Never wish longer to injoy the ayre,
Then that thou breath`st the breath of chastite:
Longer then thou preserv`st thy soule as faire
As is thy face, free from impuritie:
Thy face that makes th`admired in every eye:
DanRosa50
Where natures care such rarities inroule,
Which us`d amisse, may serve to damne thy soule.
But what? he is my King and may constraine me,
Whether I yeelde or not I live defamed:
The world will thinke authority did gaine me,
I shal be iudg`d hys love, and so be shamed:
We see the fayre condemn`d, that never gamed.
And if I yeeld, tis honorable shame,
If not, I live disgrac`d, yet thought the same.
What way is left thee then unhappy mayde,
Whereby thy spotlesse foote may wander out
Thys dreadfull danger, which thou seest is layd,
Wherein thy shame doth compasse thee about?
Thy simple yeeres cannot resolve this doubt.
Thy youth can never guide thy foote so even,
But in despight some scandall will be given.
Thus stood I ballanc`d equallie precize,
Till my fraile flesh did weigh me downe to sinne:
Till world and pleasure made me partialize,
And glittering pompe my vanitie did winne;
When to excuse my fault my lusts beginne,
And impious thoughts alledg`d this wanton clause,
That though I sinn`d, my sinne had honest cause.
So well the golden balles cast downe before me,
Could entertaine my course, hinder my way:
Whereat my rechlesse youth stooping to store me,
Lost me the gole, the glory, and the day.
Pleasure had set my wel-skoold thoughts to play,
And bade me use the vertue of mine eyes,
For sweetly it fits the fayre to wantonise.
Thus wrought to sinne, soone was I traind from Court,
To a solitarie Grange there to attend
The time the King should thether make resort,
Where he loves long-desired work should end.
Thether he daily messages doth send,
With costly jewels orators of love:
Which (ah too well men know) doe women move.
The day before the night of my defeature,
He greets me with a Casket richly wrought:
So rare, that arte did seeme to stive with nature,
T`expresse the cunning work-mans curious thought;
The mistery whereof I prying sought.
And found engraven on the lidde above,
Amymone how she with Neptune strove.
Anymone old Danaus fayrest daughter,
As she was fetching water all alone
At Lerna: whereas Neptune came and caught her,
From whom she striv`d and strugled to be gone,
Beating the ayre with cryes and pittious mone.
But all in vaine, with him sh`is forc`d to goe:
Tis shame that men should use poore maydens so.
There might I see described how she lay,
At those proude feete, not satisfied with prayer:
Wailing her heavie hap, cursing the day,
In act so pittious to expresse dispaire:
And by how much more greev`d, so much more fayre;
Her teares upon her cheekes poore carefull gerle,
Did seeme against the sunne cristall and perle.
Whose pure cleere streames, which loe so faire
Wrought hotter flames, O myracle of love, (appeares,
That kindles fire in water, heate in teares,
And makes neglected beautie mightier prove:
Teaching afflicted eyes affects to move;
To shew that nothing ill becomes the fayre,
But crueltie, that yeeldes unto no prayer.
This having viewd and therewith something moved,
Figured I found within the other squares:
Transformed Io, Ioves deerely loved,
In her affliction how she strangely fares,
Strangelie distress`d (O beautie borne to cares)
Turn`d to a Heiffer, kept with jealous eyes,
Alwaies in danger of her hatefull spyes.
These presidents presented to my view,
Wherein the presage of my fall was showne:
Might have fore-warn`d me well what would ensue,
And others harmes have made me shunne mine owne;
But fate is not prevented though fore-knowne.
For that must hap decreed by heavenly powers,
Who worke our fall, yet make the fault still ours.
Witnes the world, wherein is nothing rifer,
Then miseries unkend before they come:
Who can the characters of chaunce discipher,
Written in clowdes of our concealed dome?
Which though perhaps have beene reveald to some,
Yet that so doubtfull as successe did prove them,
That men must know they have the heavens
(above the~.
I sawe the sinne wherein my foote was entring,
I sawe how that dishonour did attend it,
I sawe the shame whereon my flesh was ventring,
Yet had I not the powre for to defende it;
DanRosa53
So weake is sence when error hath condemn`d it:
We see what`s good, and thereto we consent us;
But yet we choose the worst, and soone repent us.
And now I come to tell the worst of ilnes,
Now drawes the date of mine affliction neere:
Now when the darke had wrapt up all in stilnes,
And dreadfull blacke, had dispossess`d the cleere:
Com`d was the night, mother of sleepe and feare,
Who with her sable mantle friendly covers,
The sweet-stolne sports, of joyfull meeting Lovers.
When loe I joyde my Lover not my Love,
And felt the hand of lust most undesired:
Enforc`d th`unprooved bitter sweete to prove,
Which yeeldes no mutuall pleasure when tis hired.
Love`s not constrain`d, nor yet of due required,
Judge they who are unfortunately wed,
What tis to come unto a loathed bed.
But soone his age receiv`d his short contenting,
And sleepe seald up his languishing desires:
When he turnes to his rest, I to repenting,
Into my selfe my waking thought retires:
My nakednes had prov`d my sences liers.
Now opned were mine eyes to looke therein,
For first we taste the fruite, then see our sin.
Now did I find my selfe unparadis`d,
From those pure fieldes of my so cleane beginning:
Now I perceiv`d how ill I was aduis`d,
My flesh gan loathe the new-felt touch of sinning:
Shame leaves us by degrees, not at first winning.
For nature checks a new offence with lothing:
But use of sinne doth make it seeme as nothing.
DanRosa54
And use of sinne did worke in me a boldnes,
And love in him, incorporates such zeale:
That jealosie increas`d with ages coldnes,
Fearing to loose the joy of all his weale.
Or doubting time his stealth might els reveale,
H`is driven to devise some subtile way,
How he might safeliest keepe so rich a pray.
A stately Pallace he foorthwith did buylde,
Whose intricate innumerable wayes,
With such confused errors so beguil`d
Th`unguided entrers with uncertaine strayes,
And doubtfull turnings kept them in delayes,
With bootlesse labor leading them about,
Able to finde no way, nor in, nor out.
Within the closed bosome of which frame,
That serv`d a Center to that goodly round:
Were lodgings, with a garden to the same,
With sweetest flowers that ev`r adorn`d the ground.
And all the pleasures that delight hath found,
To entertaine the sence of wanton eyes,
Fuell of love, from whence lusts flames arise.
Heere I inclos`d from all the world a sunder,
The Minotaure of shame kept for disgrace:
The monster of fortune, and the worlds wonder,
Liv`d cloystred in so desolate a case:
None but the King might come into the place.
With certaine maides that did attend my neede,
And he himselfe came guided by a threed.
O Jealousie, daughter of envy` and love
Most wayward issue of a gentle Syer;
Fostred with feares, thy Fathers joyes t`improve,
DanRosa55
Myrth-marring Monster, borne a subtile lyer;
Hatefull unto thy selfe, flying thine owne desier:
Feeding upon suspect that dooth renue thee,
Happie were Lovers if they never knewe thee.
Thou hast a thousand gates thou enterest by,
Conducting trembling passions to our hart:
Hundred eyed Argos, ever waking Spye,
Pale hagge, infernall fury, pleasures smart,
Enuious Observer, prying in every part;
Suspicious, fearefull, gazing still about thee,
O would to God that love could be without thee.
Thou didst deprive (through false suggesting feare)
Him of content, and me of libertie:
The onely good that women holde so deare,
And turnst my freedome to captiuitie,
First made a Prisoner, ere an enemy:
Enjoynd the raunsome of my bodies shame,
Which though I paide could not redeeme the same.
What greater torment ever could have beene,
Then to inforce the fayre to live retired?
For what is Beautie if it be not seene,
Or what is`t to be seene unlesse admired?
And though admyred, unlesse in love desired?
Never were cheekes of Roses, locks of Amber,
Ordayn`d to live imprisond in a Chamber.
Nature created Beautie for the view,
Like as the fire for heate, the Sunne for light:
The Faire doe holde this priviledge as due,
By auncient Charter, to live most in sight,
And she that is debarr`d it, hath not right.
In vaine our friends in this use their dehorting,
For Beautie will be where is most resorting.
DanRosa56
Witnes the fayrest streetes that Thames doth visit,
The wondrous concourse of the glittering Faire:
For what rare women deckt with Beautie is it,
That thither covets not to make repaire.
The solitary Country may not stay her,
Heere is the center of all beauties best,
Excepting Delia, left to adorne the West.
Heere doth the curious with judiciall eyes,
Contemplate beauty gloriously attired:
And heerein all our cheefest glory lyes,
To live where we are prais`d and most desired.
O how we joy to see our selves admired,
Whilst niggardly our favours we discover,
We love to be belov`d, yet scorne the Lover.
Yet would to God my foote had never moved
From Countrey safety, from the fields of rest:
To know the danger to be highly loved,
And lyue in pompe to brave among the best,
Happy for me, better had I beene blest;
If I unluckely had never strayde:
But liv`d at home a happy Country mayde.
Whose unaffected innocencie thinks
No guilefull fraude, as doth the Courtly liver:
She`s deckt with trueth, the River where she drinks
Doth serve her for her glasse, her counsell giver:
She loves sincerely, and is loved ever.
Her dayes are peace, and so she ends her breath,
True life that knowes not what`s to die till death.
So should I never have beene registred,
In the blacke booke of the unfortunate:
Nor had my name enrold with Maydes misled,
DanRosa57
Which bought theyr pleasures at so hie a rate.
Nor had I taught through my unhappy fate,
This lesson which my selfe learnt with expence,
How most it hurts that most delights the sence.
Shame followes sinne, disgrace is duly given,
Impietie will out, never so closely doone:
No walles can hide us from the eyes of heaven,
For shame must end what wickednesse begun:
Forth breakes reproch when we least thinke thereon.
And thys is ever propper unto Courts:
That nothing can be doone but Fame reports.
Fame doth explore what lyes most secrete hidden,
Entring the closet of the Pallace dweller:
Abroade revealing what is most forbidden,
Of trueth and falshood both an equall teller:
Tis not a guarde can serve for to expell her,
The sword of justice cannot cutte her wings,
Nor stop her mouth from utt`ring secrete things.
And this our stealth she could not long conceale,
From her whom such a forfeit most concerned:
The wronged Queene, who could so closely deale:
That she the whole of all our practise learned,
And watcht a time when least it was discerned,
In absence of the King, to wreake her wrong,
With such revenge as she desired long.
The Laberinth she entred by that threed
That serv`d a conduct to my absent Lord:
Left there by chaunce, reserv`d for such a deede,
Where she surpriz`d me whom she so abhord.
Enrag`d with madnes, scarce she speakes a word,
But flyes with eger fury to my face,
Offring me most unwomanly disgrace.
DanRosa58
Looke how a Tygresse that hath lost her whelpe,
Runs fearcely raging through the woods astray:
And seeing her selfe depriv`d of hope or helpe,
Furiously assaults what`s in her way,
To satisfie her wrath, not for a pray:
So fell she on me in outragious wise,
As could Disdaine and Jealousie devise.
And after all her vile reproches used,
She forc`d me take the poyson she had brought:
To end the lyfe that had her so abused,
And free her feares, and ease her jealous thought.
No crueltie her wrath would leave unwrought,
No spightfull act that to revenge is common:
For no beast fearer then a jealous woman.
Those handes that beauties ministers had bin,
Must now gyue death, that me adorn`d of late:
That mouth that newly gave consent to sin,
Must now receive destruction in there-at.
That body which my lusts did violate,
Must sacrifice it selfe t`appease the wrong,
So short is pleasure, glory lasts not long.
The poyson soone disperc`d through all my vaines,
Had dispossess`d my living sences quite:
When naught respecting death, the last of paines,
Plac`d his pale collours, th`ensigne of his might,
Upon hys new-got spoyle before his right;
Thence chac`d my soule, setting my day ere noone,
When I least thought my joyes could end so soone.
And as conuaid t`untimely funerals,
My scarce colde corse not suffred longer stay:
Behold the King (by chance) returning, falls
DanRosa59
T`incounter with the same upon the way,
As he repaird to see his deerest joy.
Not thinking such a meeting could have beene,
To see his love, and seeing beene unseene.
Judge those whom chaunce deprives of sweetest
What tis to lose a thing we hold so deare: (treasure,
The best delight, wherein our soule takes pleasure,
The sweet of life, that penetrates so neare.
What passions feeles that hart, inforc`d to beare
The deepe impression of so strange a sight?
Tongue, pen, nor art, can never shew aright.
Amaz`d he standes, nor voyce nor body steares,
Words had no passage, teares no issue found:
For sorrow shut up words, wrath kept in teares,
Confus`d affects each other doe confounde:
Oppress`d with griefe his passions had no bounde:
Striving to tell his woes, wordes would not come;
For light cares speake, when mightie griefes are
(dombe.
At length extremitie breakes out a way, (attended,
Through which th`imprisoned voice with teares
Wayles out a sound that sorrowes doe bewray:
With armes a crosse and eyes to heaven bended,
Vauporing out sighes that to the skyes ascended.
Sighes, the poore ease calamitie affords,
Which serve for speech when sorrow wanteth
(words.
O heavens (quoth he) why doe myne eyes behold,
The hatefull rayes of this unhappy sonne?
Why have I light to see my sinnes controld,
DanRosa60
With blood of mine owne shame thus vildly donne?
How can my sight endure to looke thereon?
Why doth not blacke eternall darknes hide,
That from myne eyes my hart cannot abide?
What saw my life, wherein my soule might joy?
What had my dayes, whom troubles still afflicted?
But onely this, to counterpoize annoy,
This joy, this hope, which death hath interdicted:
This sweete, whose losse hath all distresse inflicted.
This that did season all my sowre of life,
Vext still at home with broyles, abroade in strife.
Vext styll at home with broyles, abrode in strife,
Dissention in my blood, iarres in my bed:
Distrust at boord, suspecting still my life,
Spending the night in horror, dayes in dred;
Such life hath tyrants, and thys lyfe I led.
These myseries goe mask`d in glittering showes,
Which wisemen see, the vulgar little knowes.
Thus as these passions doe him over-whelme,
He drawes him neere my bodie to behold it:
And as the Vine maried unto the Elme
With strict imbraces, so doth he infold it;
And as he in hys carefull armes doth hold it,
Viewing the face that even death commends,
On sencelesse lips, millions of kysses spends.
Pittifull mouth (quoth he) that living gavest
The sweetest comfort that my soule could wish:
O be it lawfull now, that dead thou havest,
Thys sorrowing farewell of a dying kisse.
And you fayre eyes, containers of my blisse,
Motives of love, borne to be matched never:
Entomb`d in your sweet circles sleepe for ever.
DanRosa61
Ah how me thinks I see death dallying seekes,
To entertaine it selfe in loves sweet place:
Decayed Roses of discoloured cheekes,
Doe yet retaine deere notes of former grace:
And ougly death sits faire within her face;
Sweet remnants resting of vermilion red,
That death it selfe, doubts whether she be dead.
Wonder of beautie, oh receive these plaints,
The obsequies, the last that I shall make thee:
For loe my soule that now already faints,
(That lov`d thee lyuing, dead will not forsake thee,)
Hastens her speedy course to over-take thee.
Ile meete my death, and free my selfe thereby,
For ah what can he doe that cannot die?
Yet ere I die, thus much my soule doth vow,
Revenge shall sweeten death with ease of minde:
And I will cause posterity shall know,
How faire thou wert above all women kind.
And after ages monuments shall find,
Shewing thy beauties title not thy name,
Rose of the world that sweetned so the same.
This said, though more desirous yet to say,
(For sorrow is unwilling to give over)
He doth represse what griefe would els bewray,
Least that too much his passions might discover:
And yet respect scarce bridles such a Lover.
So farre transported that he knowes not whether,
For love and Maiestie dwell ill together.
Then were my funerals not long deferred,
But doone with all the rites pompe coule devise:
At Godstow, where my body was interred,
And richly tomb`d in honorable wise.
DanRosa62
Where yet as now scarce any note descries
Unto these times, the memory of me,
Marble and Brasse so little lasting be.
For those walles which the credulous devout,
And apt-beleeving ignorant did found:
With willing zeale that never call`d in doubt,
That time theyr works should ever so confound,
Lye like confused heapes as under-ground.
And what their ignorane esteem`d so holy,
The wiser ages doe account as folly.
And were it not thy favourable lynes,
Reedified the wracke of my decayes:
And that thy accents willingly assignes,
Some farther date, and give me longer daies,
Fewe in this age had knowne my beauties praise.
But thus renewd, my fame redeemes some time,
Till other ages shall neglect thy rime.
Then when confusion in her course shall bring,
Sad desolation on the times to come:
When myrth-lesse Thames shall have no Swan to sing,
All Musique silent, and the Muses dombe.
And yet even then it must be known to some,
That once they florisht, though not cherisht so,
And Thames had Swannes as well as ever Po.
But heere an end, I may no longer stay thee,
I must returne t`attend at Stigian flood:
Yet ere I goe, thys one word more I pray thee,
Tell Delia now her sigh may doe me good,
And will her note the frailtie of our blood.
And if I passe unto those happy banks,
Then she must have her praise, thy pen her thanks.
DanRosa63
So vanisht shee, and left me to returne,
To prosecute the tenor of my woes:
Eternall matter for my Muse to mourne,
But ah the worlde hath heard too much of those,
My youth such errors must no more disclose.
Ile hide the rest, and greeve for what hath beene,
Who made me knowne, must make me live
(unseene.
FINIS