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R. L'inche!) The Love of Dom DIEGO AND GYNEURA. 223



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,

and says, “His words cannot enchant her heart ! Ulysses like, She will not hear CALYPSO,

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,

Hate and Disdain do never brook respect. She did not know that Beauty's foulest blot

consisted in true-loving-heart's neglect. No, She, more stubborn than the North-east wind, Would not admit such knowledge in her mind.

Let those who, guiltless, have felt Disdain ;

whose faithful Love hath been repaid with Hate, Give rightful judgement of Diego's pain !

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. L[inche!

After some time, he writes again unto her,

he could not think She would persever so; But when he saw her answer, like the other,

he then surceased to send her any more; But did resolve to seek some uncouth place, Where he might, unfound out, bewail his case.

Thinking, indeed, She, by his absence might

at length intenerate her fintful heart,
And metamorphose her conceived spite

into true love, regardant of his smart.
He seeks all means, poor lover! how to gain
His rigorous Lady from such fell disdain.

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 elief.

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,

his body now was weary as his mind.

O gods!” quoth he, “ if Youth find such distress, What hope have I, of future happiness ? "

With that, he sees a rock, made like a cabin,

all tapestried with Nature's mossy green, Wrought in a frizzled guise, as it had been

made for NAPÆA, mountains' chiefest Queen : At mouth of which, grew cedars, pines, and firs; And at the top, grew maple, yew, and poplars.

R L[inche ! 17 The Love of Dom DIEGO AND GYNEURA. 225


“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,

when he (O restful time !) should cease to grieve. But yet, the Sisters kept his vital breath : They would not let him die so base a death.

Some other times, when as he weighs her Beauty,

her VENUS-staining face, so wondrous fair ; He then doth think, to wail 'tis but his duty !

sith caused by her, that is without compare. And, in this mood, unto high Jove he prays; And praying so, he thus unto him says:



226 The Love of Don Diego AND GYNEURA.

R. L[inche!!


“Great Governor of wheel-resembling heaven !

command thy under-Princes to maintain Those heavenly parts, which to my Love they've given !

O let her ne'er feel death, or death's fell pain !
And, first, upon thy Sister, lay thy mace;
Bid her maintain my Love's majestic Grace !”

“ Injoin the strange-born motherless Minerva,

and her, to whom the foamy sea was mother, Still to uphold their gifts in my GYNEURA !

Let Wit and Beauty live united with her!
With sweet-mouthed Pytho, I may not suspense ;
Great goddess ! still increase her Eloquence!”

“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. “But stay," quoth he, “my working tears shall make

thee penetrable, with the least.skilled Art, O had my tears such force to pierce her mind ! Those sorrows I should lose, and new joys find.”

R. L[inche??] The Love of Don DIEGO AND GYNEURA. 227


“ 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 ! O leave not out to tell, how I was guiltless ! ”

Whereat, the very stone would seem to weep,

whose wrinkled face would be besmeared with tears, O man, whate'er thou be, thy sorrows keep

unto thyself!" quoth he, “I'll hear no cares ! 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-coated 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,

his Passions, his constant-living Love, When, lo, there gushes out clear sap-like tears,

which, to get forth from prison, mainly strove. “Since Pity dwells," quoth he,“ in trees and stone; Them will I love! GYNZURA, thou hast none !"

“ Yet needs I must confess, thou once didst love me!

thy love was hotter than the Nimphæum hill; But now, when time affords me means to prove thee,

thy love, than Caucasus is more cold and chill! And in thy cold, like Ethiopian hue, Thou art not to be changed from false to true!"

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