Category: PART IV

O love, how thou art tired out with rhyme!
Thou art a tree whereon all poets climb,
And from thy tender branches everyone²
Doth take some³ fruit, which fancy feeds upon.
But now thy tree is left so bare and poor,                  5
That they can hardly gather one plum more.

The brain is the² Elysian fields, for there³
All ghosts and spirits in strong dreams appear.
In gloomy shades do sleepy lovers⁴ walk,
And⁵ souls do entertain themselves with talk,
And heroes their great actions do relate,                                   5
Telling both their good fortune and⁶ sad fate,
What chanced to them when they awake⁷ did live,
Their world the light did great Apollo give;
And what in life they could a pleasure call,
Here in these fields they pass their time withal,                     10
Where Memory, the ferryman, with him⁸
Brings⁹ company, which through the senses swim.
The boat, imagination, ’s¹⁰ always full,
Which Charon roweth in the region skull,
In which the famous river Styx doth flow,¹¹                            15
Wherein who’s dipped, straight doth forgetful grow.¹²
And¹³ this Elysium poets happy call,
Where poets, as great gods, do record¹⁴ all
The souls of those that¹⁵ they will choose for bliss,
And their sweet numbered verse their passport is.                20
And¹⁶ those that strive this happy place to have¹⁷
Must go to bed and sleep as in a grave.¹⁸
Yet what a stir do poets make, when they
By their wit, Mercury, those souls convey!
But what, cannot the godhead wit create,                                 25
Whose fancies are both destiny and fate?¹⁹
Fame is²⁰ the thread which long or²¹ short they spin;
The world, as flax unto their distaff bring.²²
This distaff spins fine canvas of conceit,
Wherein the sense is woven ev’n²³ and straight;                    30
But if’t²⁴ in knots and snarls entangled be,
The thread of fame doth run unevenly.
Those that care not to live in poets’ verse,
Let them lie dead upon oblivion’s hearse.

The shepherdesses which great flocks do keep
Are dabbled high with dew following their sheep,
Milking their ewes, their hands do² dirty make,
For being³ wet, dirt from their duggs do take.
Through the sun’s heat, their skin doth yellow grow;⁴            5
Their eyes are red, lips dry with winds⁵ that blow.⁶
There shepherds sit on tops of mountains⁷ high,
And⁸ on their feeding sheep do cast an eye,
Which to the mount’s steep sides they hanging feed
On short moist grass,⁹ not suffered to bear seed.                    10
Their feet are small, but strong each sinew’s¹⁰ string,
Which makes¹¹ them fast to rocks and mountains cling.
The while the shepherd’s legs hang dangling down,
He¹² sets his breech upon the hill’s high crown.
Like to¹³ a tanned hide, so is¹⁴ his skin;                                    15
No melting heat or numbing cold gets in,
And with a voice that’s harsh against his throat,
He strains to sing, yet knows not any note,
And, yawning, lazy¹⁵ lies upon his side,
Or straight upon his back with¹⁶ arms spread wide,             20
Or, snorting, sleeps, and dreams of Joan his¹⁷ maid,
Or of hobgoblins,¹⁸ wakes as being afraid—
Motion in his¹⁹ dull brains doth plow and sow,
Not plant and set, as skilfull gard’ners²⁰ do—
Or²¹ takes his knife half broke, but ground again,²²              25
And whittles sticks, his sheep-cote up to pin,²³
Or cuts some holes in straw, to pipe thereon
Some amorous tunes, which pleaseth his love Joan.²⁴
Thus rustic clowns are pleased to spend their times,
And not as poets feign, in verse and rhymes,²⁵                       30
Making great kings and princes pastures keep,
And beauteous ladies follow²⁶ flocks of sheep,
And dance²⁷ ’bout maypoles in a rustic sort,
When ladies scorn to dance without a court.
For they their loves would²⁸ hate if they should come          35
With leather jerkins, breeches made of thrum,
And buskins made of frieze that’s coarse and strong,
With²⁹ clouted shoes, tied with a leather thong.
Those that are nicely bred fine clothes still love;
A fair white hand doth hate a³⁰ dirty glove.                            40

To cover noble lovers with the² weeds
Of ragged shepherds, too low³ thoughts it breeds,
Like as when men make gods to come⁴ down low,⁵
Take⁶ off all rev’rence⁷ and respect we owe.
Then rather make ladies⁸ fair nymphs to be,                             5
Who’re cloathed with beauty, bred with modesty;
Their⁹ tresses long hang on their shoulders¹⁰ white,
Which when they move, do give the gods delight.
Their¹¹ quivers,¹² hearts of men, which fast are tied,
And arrows of quick flying eyes beside,                                     10
Buskins, which,¹³ buckled close with plates of gold,
With strength their legs from base ways back¹⁴ do hold.
And make men¹⁵ champions, knights—which honor prize¹⁶
Above the tempting of alluring eyes—
Which¹⁷ seek to kill, or at the least to bind                                15
All evil passions in a wand’ring mind;
And¹⁸ take those castles kept by scandals strong,
That have by errors been enchanted long,
Rout monstrous vices, which do¹⁹ virtues eat:
These lovers worthy are of praises great.                                   20
So will high Fame aloud those praises sing;
Cupid those lovers shall to Hymen bring,
At Honor’s altar join both hearts and hands;
The gods will seal those²⁰ matrimonial bands.

Dishonor in the house of shame doth dwell;
The way is broad, and open is as² Hell.
The porter’s he whom Baseness we³ do call,
And Idleness is⁴ usher of the hall.
The house with dark forgetfulness is hung,                                5
And round about ingratitude is flung,
Boldness for windows,⁵ which outface the light;
The curtains are dissembling,⁶ drawn with spite.
With covetousness all gilded are the rooves;⁷
The weathercock inconstancy still moves.⁸                              10
Instead of pillars, obstinacy⁹ stands,
Carved with perjury by cunning hands,
And Lust on beds of luxury doth¹⁰ lie,
Where chamberlains of jealousies out-spy.¹¹
Gardens of riot, where the wanton walks,                                15
Lascivious arbors where Obsceneness talks,
Storehouses of¹² theft ill-gotten goods lie¹³ in,
A secret door¹⁴ bolted with a false pin.
The bakehouse doth ill consciences¹⁵ make;
False hearts, as ovens¹⁶ hot, those hard do¹⁷ bake.                  20
The brewhouse yields designs of wicked brains,¹⁸
With corrupt measures and deceitful grains;¹⁹
Drunkness the cellar, stomachs for barrels go;²⁰
Mouths are the taps, whence spew for drink doth flow.²¹
Kitchens of slander, where good names are burned,²²           25
Spits of revenge, on which ill deeds are turned;²³
The slaughter-house²⁴ of horrid murder’s²⁵ built,
A knife of cruelty, by which blood is spilt.²⁶
In matrimonial bonds Dishonor’s linked²⁷
With Infamy, which is as black as ink.                                        30

Honor’s brave temple’s¹ built both high and wide,
Whose walls are of clear glass on every side,
Where actions of all sorts are perfect seen,
Where Truth, the² priest, approves which worthiest³ been,
And⁴ on the altar of the world them lays,                                  5
And offers them with sacrificing praise,
Which offerings are so clean and without stain,⁵⁶
As Honor’s godhead cannot them disdain:⁷
As pious tears, with thoughts most chaste and pure;
And patient minds, afflictions to endure;                                 10
Wise⁸ brains, which bring things⁹ to a good¹⁰ effect;
And helping hands, where bribes are not¹¹ suspect;
A tongue, which truth in eloquence doth dress;
And lips, which worth praises do express;
Eyes that pry out, and spy examples good;                               15
Feet that in ways of mischief never stood;
Hair from those heads¹² that shaved for holy vow,
Which as a witness, blessing gods allow;
Breasts, from whence¹³ proceed all good desires,
Which lock up secrets, if that need¹⁴ requires;                        20
And hearts, from whence clear springs of love do rise,
Where loyal courage in the bottom lies;
Beside here’s spleens,¹⁵ which never¹⁶ malice bore;
And shoulders, which¹⁷ distressèd burdens wore;
And humble knees, that bow¹⁸ to ruling powers;                    25
And hands of bounty, which on mis’ry¹⁹ showers;
King’s crowns, which rule²⁰ with justice, love, and peace,
Whose power serves²¹ from slavery to release;
Here speculations from much²² musing grow,
Which reason’s²³ proof and time’s experience show;            30
Witty inventions, which men profit bring;
Inspired²⁴ verse, which poets to²⁵ gods sing;
White innocence, as girdles, virgins²⁶ wear,
That only Hymen²⁷ from their waist doth tear;
And Hymen’s torches, which burn bright and clear,             35
Show jealousy and falsehood ne’er come²⁸ near;
Garlands of laurel, which keep ever green,
And²⁹ for the best of poets crowns have been;
The olive branch, which emblem is³⁰ of peace,
Is offered there³¹ for the world’s good increase;                     40
Mirtle is laid for lovers that³² are true;
And for misfortunes is³³ the bitter rue;
Sighs, which from deep compassion do flow out;
And faith,³⁴ which never knew to make a doubt.
These,³⁵ offered all with grateful hearts in ranks,                  45
Were sprinkled with the pure³⁶ essence of thanks,
Of pen’tent tears was th’holy water made;³⁷
Love’s flaming fire was on the altar laid.³⁸
The priests, which all the ceremonies there³⁹
Did execute, the four chief virtues were;⁴⁰                              50
These in⁴¹ procession Honor high did raise,
And with their anthems sweetly sang⁴² her praise.

Fame on her nimble wings doth¹ actions bear,
Which fly about, and carry’m everywhere.
Sometime she overloaded² is with all,
And then some down into oblivion fall.
But those that would³ to Fame’s high temple go,                 5
Must first great Honor’s temple quite pass through.

This temple is divided in two parts:
Some open lie, others obscure¹ as hearts;
Some light as day, others are² dark as night,
By time’s obscurity worn out of sight.
The outward rooms are³ glorious to the eye,                             5
In which Fame’s image placed are⁴ on high,
Where⁵ all the windows are triangulars cut,
Where one face into millions is⁶ put,
And builded is in squares, just like a cube,⁷
Which way to double, hard is in dispute.⁸                                10
Echoes therein do like as⁹ balls rebound
From every corner, making a great sound.
The walls are hung with chapters¹⁰ all of gold,
In letters great all actions there are told.
The temple door is of prospective glass,                                    15
Through which a small beam of our eye can pass.
That¹¹ makes truth there so¹² difficult to know,
As a new world in the bright moon¹³ to show.
The steepl’and pillars are¹⁴ of goose-quills built,
And plastered over with white paper gilt;                                 20
The painting is with ink as¹⁵ black as jet,
In several works and figures like a net.
The steeple’s high, and yet¹⁶ not very light,
But as an¹⁷ evening is, ’twixt day and night.
Five tongues, the five bells through¹⁸ the world do ring,       25
And to each several ear much news do bring.
The philosopher’s tongue doth give a deep sound,¹⁹
But the historian’s is no better found;²⁰
Th’orator’s tongue doth make great noise; the sound²¹
Of critics harsh, as full of flaws is found;²²                               30
The small bell, a poet’s tongue, changes²³ oft,
Whose motion is²⁴ quick, smooth, even,²⁵ and soft.
The ropes they hang²⁶ by, one cannot²⁷ well see,
For they are²⁸ long small threads of vainglory.
And when they ring, they make a fine²⁹ sweet chime,           35
Especially when poets’ tongues do³⁰ rhyme.
The belfry-man’s³¹ a printer by his skill,
Who,³² if he pleases, may ring when he will.
When priest to matins, or to vespers go,
To the high altar they bow very³³ low.                                       40
This altar, where³⁴ they offer unto Fame,
Is made of brains, arms, and hearts, without³⁵ blame,
On which lies wisdom, wit, strength, courage, love,
As³⁶ sacrifices to great Fame³⁷ above.
Vertues, arts, sciences as priests here stand,³⁸                         45
But Fortune, prioress, doth all command.³⁹
Incense of noble deeds to Fame she sends;
Nothing is offered, but what she commends,⁴⁰
For Fortune brings more into Fame’s high court
Than all the⁴¹ virtues with their great resort.                           50