R. Linche? THE LOVE OF DOM DIEGO AND GYNEURA. 223 1596. O Nature! chiefest mother of us all! why did you give such apt believing hearts To womenkind, that thus poor men enthrall, and will not duly weigh true love's deserts? O had their hearts been like unto their face; They, sure, had been of some celestial race! She, pitiless, sends back to Dom DIEGO, nor lend her ears to such enticing art! Bid him," quoth She, "from henceforth, cease to write! Tell him, his letters aggravate my spite!" Full heavy news it was, to stainless love! to him that had enshrined her in his thought! And in his heart, had honoured her above the world! To whom, all else save her seemed nought. Nay, unto him, whose person, wit, and fair Might surely with the best make just compare. But, blinded as She was, She 'steems him not, No, She, more stubborn than the North-east wind, Let those who, guiltless, have felt Disdain ; who bought his favours at the highest rate. This news such pleasure, in his soul had bred, As hath the thief that hears his judgement read. 224 THE LOVE OF DOM DIEGO AND GYNEURA. [R. Linche?! After some time, he writes again unto her, Thinking, indeed, She, by his absence might At last, he calls to mind the Pyren mountains, those far-famed woody hills of wealthy Spain; Which for wild beasts and silver-visaged fountains, hath got the praise of all that there remain. Hither posts Dom DIEGO, fraught with grief, Hoping those woods would yield him some relief. Where being come, all pilgrim-like attired, he pries about to see if he could find Some house-like cave; for rest he much desired, "O gods!" quoth he, "if Youth find such distress, With that, he sees a rock, made like a cabin, made for NAPEA, mountains' chiefest Queen: 1596. R L[inche? THE LOVE OF DOM DIEGO AND GYNEURA. 225 1596. "So, here!" quoth he, "I'll rest my wearied body! In thee, delightful place of Nature's building, Will I erect a grief-framed monastery; where, night and day, my prayers I'll ne'er cease yielding To thee, my Dear! No other Saint I have. O lend thine ears to him, that his heart gave! ” Two days were spent in this so pleasant seat (this stone-built Palace of the King CONTENT) Before DIEGO tasted any meat, or once did drink, more than his eyes had lent. O irresisted force of purest Love! Whom pains, thirst, hunger can no whit remove. Sometimes when as he scans her Cruelty; and feels his pains, like HYDRA's head, increasing, He wished the Scythian Anthropophagi did haunt these woods! that live by man's flesh eating. Or else the Thracian Bossi! so renowned For cruel murdering whom, in woods they found. That so, the Gordian knot of his pain (indissoluble e'en whiles he did live) Might be untied! when as his heart was slain, Some other times, when as he weighs her Beauty, sith caused by her, that is without compare. ENG. GAR. VII. 226 THE LOVE OF DOM DIEGO AND GYNEURA. [R. Llinche "Great Governor of wheel-resembling heaven! Those heavenly parts, which to my Love they've given ! "Injoin the strange-born motherless MINERVA, Let Wit and Beauty live united with her! "Thou, musical APOLLO, gav'st her hand! and thou, her feet, great sun-god's dearest Love! To such your rare-known gifts all gracious stand. and now, at last, do I crave, great JOVE! That, when they die (perhaps, they die above!); Thou wilt bequeath these gifts unto my Love! " On every neighbour tree, on every stone (he durst not far range from his secure cave) Would he cut out the Cause of all his moan; and curiously, with greatest skill engrave. There needed no LEONTIUS his Art! Grief carveth deepest, if it come from th' heart. When some stone would not impression take, he straight compares it to his Mistress's heart. O had my tears such force to pierce her mind! 1596. R. L[inche? THE LOVE OF DOM DIEGO AND GYNEURA. 227 1596. "Thou ever-memorable stone," quoth he, "tell those whom Fate or fortune here shall lead, How dearly I have loved the cruell'st She that ever Nature, or the world hath bred! Tell them, her hate and her disdain were causeless! Whereat, the very stone would seem to weep, Tell them that care not, tell GYNEURA of thee! We stones are ruthful, and thy plaints have pierced me!" With this, he seeks a russet-coatèd tree, and straight disclothes him [it] of his long-worn weed; And whilst he thus disrobes him busily, he felt his half-dead heart afresh to bleed: Grieving that he should use such cruelty, To turn him naked to his foe, wind's fury. But now uncased, he 'gins to carve his cares, "Yet needs I must confess, thou once didst love me! And in thy cold, like Ethiopian hue, Thou art not to be changed from false to true!" |