The Triumph of Love, Chapter IV

AFter that my fortune thus hade me broughte
And loue soo sore in my hart wroughte
That cut were al my weake sely vaynes
My lybertie gone and I in wofull paynes
I that afore was wylde as any harte
Was made then tame for my parte
As well as all the other that were there
And well knew theyr trauayle and theyr fere
And wyth what wyte, crafte and chaunce
I and they were brought to loues daunce
And then as that I loked all aboute
If I myght spye among that hudge route
Any person of cleare and high name
That by wryting haue eternall fame
I sawe hym that Erudyce dyd call
Apon Pluto the great god infernall
And folowed her as these hystories tell
Downe vnto the depe dongeon of hell
And dying dyd his loue clepe and call
I sawe also euyn among them all
Alceo Macreon and the wyse Pyndarus
That in loue were all thre studiouse
Uyrgyll was there. I say in lyke case
Wyth other excellent poetes in that place
The tone was Ouyde the tother Catullo
Propercius also and eke Tubullo
That of loue wrote many a verse and songe
And with this excellent Poetes amonge
Was a Grecian that with her swete style
Of loue full many a songe dyd fyle
Ay lokyng thus about me here and there
I sawe in a grene fielde with sadde chere
People that of loue reasonyng went
Dant with beatryce fayre and gent
Lo on the tother syde I might also se
Cino of Piscoia wyth hym trust me
Guydo of Rezzo and in that place
Two other Guydos in lyke manner and case
The tone of them was borne in boleyne
The tother was a very ryght Cicelien
Senicio and Francisco so gentle-of condicion
And Arnolde and Daniell in lyke facion
A great maker and dyuyser of loue
And dyd great honour to his Citie aboue
There was Peter also the Clerke famouse
And Rambaldo with his stile curiouse
That wrote for his beatryce in mont ferrato
The olde Peter and with hym Geraldo
Filile to that in Marsill bare the name
And the prayse from Geneway by the same
Geffray Rudell that sought his death Alasse
vpon the water as he hymselfe dyd passe
There was also Wilbon at that houre
That in wryting to his Peramoure
Passyd many other in his dayes
Among these other that of loue sayes
Was Amerego, Barnardo, Hugo, and Anselme
That in stede of speare, shilde, and helme
Was theyr tounge and theyr fayre speach
The loue of theyr Ladyes to besech
I turned myne eyes from that companye
And streight wyse I dyd there espye
The good Thomaso that gate great prayse
In Boleyne that citie in hys dayse
O fleyng swetenes O paynefull wery lyfe
What chaunce hath taken wyth woo and strife
These my deare fryndes away from me
Why am I not styll in theyr company
Well may I perceaue howe feble and frayle
Is mans lyfe all full of trauayle
Well may I say it is none other thing
But as a dreame or a shadowe passyng
Or as a fable that when it is tolde
The wynde and whether doth it holde
Unneth was a lytle past the rule
Of the commen lernars in scole
When fyrste I dyd Socrates workes se
And Lelius howe fayre they dyd agree
Wyth these men I entende styll to goo
Which I haue named hether vnto
As those whose laude: no man can well rehearse
Neyther in ryme, in prose, nor yet in verse
Wyth these two and dyuerse other in my dayes
Haue I searched many dyuers wayes
And from these noo man can me deuyde
But for alwayes I wyll wyth them abyde
Untyll the houre come that I shall dye
For wyth these two gotten yet haue I
The gloriouse Laurell wherewith my heade
As a garlande all aboute is spredde
In memory of her of which I wryte
Uerses of prayses as I can endyte
But of her which I so much commend
For all my seruyce that I do pretend
I cannot get neyther boughe nor lefe
But payne, heauines, doloure, and grefe
And or I wryte the cause why she doth so
I wyll wryte of the pensyfe woo
That these vnwyse louers haue to loue
The thyng is so farre my wytte aboue
That for great Omer or for wyse Orpheus
It were well mete they shoulde it dyscusse
Then in folowing of my golden penne
I wyll declare howe I and all these men
Folowing this god by Dykes and by Dales
With peynes and busines and with many tales
This chylde vnto his kyngdome came
Where Uenus hys mother was resydent than
But so ouerwhart thyder was the wayes
By busshes and woodes and other brayes
That not one amonge all wyste where he was
Nor howe it was wyth hym nor in what case
There lyeth beyonde Egeo that grete see
A delectable yle to beholde and se
Because the sonne softly doth it warme
The byrdes there full swetely charme
In the myddes of this yle now expressed
Is there a mountayne fayre ydressed
With fayre flowres, and fayre cleare water
That it taketh awaye all sadde matter
From the hartes of suche as be there
This is the lande to Uenus moost dere
Wherein the olde auncient men
Made to this Uenus a temple then
And yet of vertue it is so barrayne I saye
That as it was, so it is at this daye
In that selfe same place tryumpheth this Lorde
Of vs and other that he doth bynde in corde
Of all nations, from Tyle vnto Inde
Innumerable of all men one maye fynde
This Prynce in token of his great victory
That he hath obteyned of louers so gloriouslye
Caryeth with hym of poore louers the spoyle
To gyue to hys wanton mother in that soyle
Fyrst of all the louers thoughtes in his lappe
He hath with hym fast closed in a trappe
Uanytie embraseth hym, and with hym doth go
Fugytyue pleasure doth folowe hym also
In wynter Roses he caryeth about
In Somer yse, this great God so stoute
Doutefull hope before and behynde
Shorte Ioye, wauerynge and blynde
Penaunce and sorow doth folowe the rest
As in Rome and in Troy, when it was opprest
Thus with a noyse and a huge shoute
Redounded the valleye there all aboute
With a consent of byrdes fayre and swete
And the ryuers that ranne by the strete
Were of coloure breifly to endyte
Greene, blewe, redde, yalowe and whyte
And euer the Ryuars rynnyng in that place
When that the tyme of greate heate was
Apon the freshe fayre greene flowres
To comforte the herbers and the bowres
Shadowes softe to kepe the sonne away
The wether temperate by nyght and daye
The Sonne nether to hoote nor to colde
Plenty of deynties eate who woulde
And pleasures dyuers to make a symple wytte
Haue an olde feble harte for to vse it
It was about the Equinoctiall lyne than
When the fayre bryght Phebus began
To chase the longe wynter nyghtes awaye
And prougne laughes early afore daye
In that tyme and in that selfe howre
This great God of so hyghe powre
Woulde tryumphe then, and there worshipped be
O our vnstable fortune for to se
We ne coulde but as this God vs leade
Hym to worshyppe, se howe we speade
What death, what sorow, woo and payne
Hath the louer, his purpose to attayne
Nowe for to declare this matter by and by
This Goddes chayre, where that they sat on hye
There was about it errour and dreames
And glosynge ymages of all nations and realmes
False opynion was entrynge the gate
And slypper hope stode by theyr ate
Wery rest, and rest with wo and payne
The more hygher he clam the lesse he dyd obtayn
Damnable lucre was not wantynge there
Nor profitable hurte alwayes in fere
Cleare dishonoure, and glory obscure and darke
False lealtie lefte not there to warke
Nor beguyldynge fayth, nor furious busynes
Nor slowe reason lacked not in the presse
A pryson open, entre who woulde
When he was in gotten oute he ne coulde
Within trouble, confusion, and mysery
A sure sorowe a myrth vncertaynly
Lyppary nor Ischa, nor Uolcan boyls not so
Strongile and Mongebell put therto
As boyled the place where the castell was
And briefly whosoeuer thyther dyd pas
Is there bounde in hote and in colde
In darkenesse euerlastynge in that holde
Holden and tyed and kept by forse
Crying for mercy tyll that he be horse
In this castell syghynge for Sorga and Arno
Was I prysoner many a longe daye so
That by my wytte, I coulde no meanes fynde
Oute for to gette there I was so blynde
One remedye at the leaste there I founde
Whyles that I was in loue thus bounde
My wytte on hyghe thynges was euermore set
To knowe what loue is whiche was so great
That I therby coulde well discerne
What was to be done in suche harme
And thus hauynge great compassion
Of suche that were in loues pryson
My harte relented euen as doth the snowe
Agaynst the hoote Sonne ye may me trowe
Merueylynge to se so many noble men
To be in so darke a pryson there and then
None otherwyse but as one that doth se
A pycture well made in conformyte
Goeth the foote forwarde it for to espye
And yet loketh backwarde with his eye
So at that tyme I loked all aboute
To consydre this greate companye and route.