An Heroical Poem

My wanton Muse that whilom wont to sing
Fair beauty's praise and Venus' sweet delight,
Of late had changed the tenor of her string
To higher tunes than serve for Cupid's fight:
Shrill trumpets' sound, sharp swords, and lances strong.
War, blood, and death, were matter of her song.

The god of love by chance had heard thereof.
That I was proved a rebel to his crown;
" Fit words for war," quoth he, with angry scoff,
" A likely man to write of Mars his frown;
Well are they sped whose praises he shall write.
Whose wanton pen can nought but love indite. "

This said, he whisk'd his party-colour'd wings.
And down to earth he comes more swift than thought;
Then to my heart in angry haste he flings.
To see what change these news of wars had wrought.
He pries, and looks, he ransacks ev'ry vein.
Yet finds he nought, save love and lover's pain.

Then I that now perceived his needless fear.
With heavy smile began to plead my cause:
"In vain," quoth I, "this endless grief I bear.
In vain I strive to keep thy grievous laws,
If after proof so often trusty found.
Unjust suspect condemn me as unsound.

" Is this the guerdon of my faithful heart?
Is this the hope on which my life is stay'd?
Is this the ease of never-ceasing smart?
Is this the price that for my pains is paid?
Yet better serve fierce Mars in bloody field,
Where death or conquest, end or joy doth yield.

" Long have I served; what is my pay but pain?
Oft have I sued; what gain I but delay?
My faithful love is quit'd with disdain,
My grief a game, my pen is made a play;
Yea, love that doth in other favour find,
In me is counted madness out of kind.

" And last of all, but grievous most of all,
Thyself, sweet Love, hath kill'd me with suspect.
Could Love believe, that I from Love would fall?
Is war of force to make me Love neglect?
No, Cupid knows my mind is faster set.
Than that by war I should my love forget.

" My Muse indeed to war inclines her mind,
The famous acts of worthy Brute to write;
To whom the gods this island's rule assign'd,
Which long he sought by seas through Neptune's spite:
With such conceits my busy head doth swell,
But in my heart nought else but love doth dwell.

"And in this war thy part is not the least;
Here shall my Muse Brute's noble love declare;
Here shalt thou see thy double love increased.
Of fairest twins that ever lady bare.
Let Mars triumph in armour shining bright,
His conquer'd arms shall be thy triumph's light.

"As he the world, so thou shall him subdue,
And I thy glory through the world will ring,
So by my pains thou wilt vouchsafe to rue
And kill despair. " With that he whisk'd his wing,
And bid me write, and promised wish'd rest;
But sore I fear false hope will be the best.