The Triumph of Death, Chapter I

THis most noble and mooste gloryouse Ladye
That nowe is a spi rite & in the earth doth lye
And somtyme was the hygh pyller of valour
Turned from hyr warre with laude and honour
Gladde to haue ouer comen an enemy so great
That with his wyt turneth all men vnder feet
With none other armour she dyd this deade
But with a chast hart at the tyme of nede
With a swete face and with a clene thoughte
And with an honest speche this hath she wrought
It was a newe wondre for to beholde and se
Loue to be ouercome in suche wyse and degre
Hys bowe broken his arrowes cast asyde
That slayne had so many men of pryde
And taken prysoners infinite of men
This noble Lady with hyr company then
Turned (as sayde is) from that hygh victory
All together going vnder a fayre canapye
There was but fewe no meruayl at all
Uertuous glory is rath and euer shall
But those that were present in that place
Eche one by them selues it is a playne case
Semed well worthy of laude to reherse
Of Poete or Oratour in prose or verse,
Hyr vyctoriouse standerde was this
In a greene felde a whyte armyne is
With a chayne of golde about his necke
A fayre Topazion therto dyd it decke
Nothynge after mortall mens rate
Was nether theyr speche nor yet theyr gate
But all deuyne for to beholde and se
Happy are those that haue suche destanye
They semed all fayre bryght starres
The Sonne in the myddes that not debarres
The lyght away, but geueth them lyght
Hauynge on theyr fayre heades on hyght
Rose garlandes and vyolets fresh and gay
And as a louynge gentle hart alwaye
Getteth honour for his vertuouse lyfe
So past this company without debate or stryfe
When that all sodenly there dyd appeare
A sadde blacke baner that approched nere
And a woman wrapped all in blacke
With suche a fury and with suche a wracke.
That vnneth I cannot the truth tell
In the tyme of the great myghty gyauntes fell
Were any so lothesome for to beholde and see
Unto this Lady so gastly moued he
And sayde O swete and excellent mayde
That goest here moost perfytely arayde
With youth and beautye and doste not se
The terme that I shall present arrest the
I am the same importune cruell best
Callyd death fearefull that doth arrest
All creatures wyth my greate force and myght
Or the daye end[…] makyng it the nyght
It is I that hath quite and cleane wastyd
The great grekes nation and also hastyd
The noble Troyans vnto theyr declyne
And last of all hath made to ende and fyne
The Romaynes glory wyth this blade kene
That prycketh and cutteth all away cleane
And infinite of other barbarouse nations
Using euermore these wayes and facions
When that they loke not for me at all
Wyth sodeyne stroke I make them downe to fall
A thousand thoughtes of men frayle and vayne
I haue broken this is true and certayne
And nowe to you when lyfe semeth best
Here am I comen your body to arrest
Or any harde fortune to you chaunce to fall
I wyll you take and ende not one but all
This excellent Lady hauing no peare
In al the worlde wyth sad and wise chere
Aunswered vnto death there present agayne
In these chast companyes this is true & playne
Thou hast no reason nor yet noo power
And lesse of all other in me at this houre
Onely the spoyle that thou shalt haue
It is my chast body vnto the graue
That well knoweth one as well as I
That take well my death most heauely
Hys lyfe on my health all doth depende
But vnto the this is thy small ende
It shalbe to me no displeasure at all
To departe the frayle worlde lo this is all
This cruell beast with hyr wyse reason
Was no lesse marueld at that tyme and season
Than one that doth a thynge in soden haste
And when the dede is so done and paste
Doth blame hym selfe of that that he hath done
Euen so dyd this terrible monster soone
And when he had hym selfe paused a whyle
With a more softe speache, and gentle style
Thou (sayes he) that present here doest guyde
This fayre chast bande on euery syde
That hast not yet my fearefull stroke assayde
By my councell be not so sore afrayde
For that I wyll nowe do is for the best
To make the fle (O mayde) from age opprest
Whiche hath alwayes longynge thervnto
Muche grief and dolour with payne & longe wo
And to this nowe present, disposed I am
Thou fayre creature and swete woman
To do the suche honor present in this place
That thy spirite shall from the body passe
Without feare, dolour, or grief at all
Be of good comfort O may de, I haue sayde all
This Angelyke creature when she had harde
What death had sayde, agayne aunswerd
As it pleaseth Christ our Lorde almyghtye
That ruleth and tempereth all thynges eternally
Do thou vnto her as thou doest to all men
Thus this fayre Lady aunswered there and then
And lo euen there present all sodenly
Full of dead bodyes theyr great place dyd lye
In such a number that them for to rehearse
It cannot be countyd in prose nor yet in verse
Of Cateya of Marow of Spayne and Inde
Innumerable deade of all mankynde
There were those that men happy dyd call
Kynges Emperours and Bysshoppes all
Now be they poore as poore as beggers be stones
Where is there ryches & honour trowe ye
Theyr scepters theyr crownes wt theyr preciouse
Theyr myters of purple dected for the noones
Gone is all theyr glory and theyr freshe luste
A foole is he that to such thinges doth truste
But those that wyll nedes hope thervnto
At length shall se the matter to be so
Them selues vtterly scornyd and beguyled
When all theyr fancys shalbe quyte exiled
O blynde fooles euen worse then madde
For all the pleasures and ioyse ye haue hadde
To your olde mother ye muste nedes passe
And your names forgotten and turned to was
What profyte hath it then bene vnto you
Wyth swerde and blode strong nacions to subdue
To mucke vp treasure and your soules to defyle
It had bene better to haue lyued a whyle
Porely in thys world with browe bread & water
But nowe wyll I returne agayne to my matter
I say than whan the extreme houre was come
Of thys fayre Lady this is all and some
And that she must the doubtfull passe assay
That puttes all the worlde in dreade and fraye
There came to se her of women many one
To knowe and se or that the lyfe were gone
What payne the fayre Creature dyd abyde
Both fryndes and Neybors diuers on eche syde
And so as they her great beautie dyd beholde
Death dissolued the fayre here of golde
And so the fayrest flower that euer was
He dyd roote vp Alas I say Alas
Not for no hate that he to her then hadde
But in heauen for to make her spirite gladde
O howe many complayntes and bewaylinges
Syghes and teares and other lamentinges
Were there than among the women all
When that, that fayre bryght eyes celestiall
For which many a swete songe I made
Many a sonete many a freshe balade
Were closed and shot vp Alas O wo is me
This fayre Creature what trowe ye then did she
Syt styll and glade in quiete and pease
And gether the fructe of her vertuousnesse
Go thy wayes O deare godes well content
In peace and quiet with all thy vertues excellent
But litle it auayled agaynst deathes myght
Then if he haue agaynst such a one ryght
What shall it be trowe ye of the reste
O humayne hope with al mysery opprest
In a fewe myghtes so swete a mayde
Goone and past in so short a brayde
So many teares for her death sprede
Thou that seste it or heryst it redde
Thinke what it is the worlde for to truste
When such a creature is turned vnto dust
It was for truth the sixe day of Apryll
That loue to loue hyr dyd me compell
And euen that same selfe houre and daye
Death dyd take my loue and ioye awaye
And nowe as fortune is wont for to chaunge
Hath broken the knot and eke the raunge
With suche sorowe vnto my wofull harte
That I am afrayde I saye, as for my parte
To tell it ether in verse or in ryme
It was to me so sorowfull a tyme
Uertue sayde they that were present there
Excellent beutye and moost womanly chere
Nowe is deade and gone what shall we be
When she is past the death as we do se
Where shall hyr peere or lyke be seene agayne
So great perfection in one for to remayne
So swete a speache so Angelyke a voyce
This aboue all other was the choyce
And the spyryt when it shulde depart
As they myght se and periytly aduerte
With all other vertues gatheredin one
Where as it went the ayre moost bryghtly shone
None euyll aduersary was so hardy there
Afore hyr presence to stande or appeare
With foule semblaunt to put hyr in dread
Tyll death his assaute had done in dede
But after that when all the feare was past
And by disperation they sure at the last
Eche one dyd beholde that moost swete face
How preciouse it was, how full of grace
Not dyssolued with no vyolent payne
But passynge awaye with an easy vayne
Euen as a swete lyght that commeth to decay
Lytle and lytle consumynge awaye
When that the byrth lycoure is past and gone
The flame extincte then lyght is there none
Not pale she laye but whyter then the snow
That the wynde agaynst the hyl doth blowe
As he that wery is, and woulde haue rest
So she laye when death had hyr oppreste
And as one that slepeth softe and quietlye
So myght they all then and there espye
Dreadful death that fooles haue in disgrace
Fayre and beutifull in that swetest face.