Romance of the Rose (Ellis)/Chapter 12
XII
This telleth how Narcissus sighed
His soul away in tearful tide
Through fond self-love; yet died he not,
But lives within this fount, I wot.1540
Echo is avenged
When stooped he low to slake his drouth
And saw his forehead, nose, and mouth,
He started back in wonderment,
For through his heart the vision sent
A thrill, to see himself so fair,
Matchless in form, of beauty rare.
Then Love knew well his way to take
Narcissus in his toils, and make
Him suffer such-like cruel woe
As he had dealt to fair Echo.1550
Beside the crystal fount he lay,
Gazing enrapt, the live-long day,
Enamoured of the shadow he
Saw in the fount so perfectly,
Until he sighed away his breath;
And lastly found thereby sweet death.
A warning to fair women
Now hearken while the tale I tell.
How on his heart Love’s vengeance fell.
When plain it was that he nowise
Could gain that thing which in his eyes1560
Alone seemed good, and when he knew
How hopeless all his longing grew
Of sweet fulfilment, and that ne’er
Could he in that he longed for share
And have his joyance, then he lost
In wrath his reason, and the frost
Of death came o’er him. Thus was heard
The prayer of that sweet nymph whose word
Of love he rudely scorned. O fair
And gentle ladies, be ye ware1570
By this example that your ears
Ye shut not hardily, nor tears
Despise of those who seek your love,
Lest ye with vain remorse should prove,
How God doth punish those who leave
Kind swains to die, or vainly grieve.
Assured the fair inscription writ
Above the fountain pointed it
Most plainly for the self-same one
Whereby Narcisse had been foredone,1580
My impulse was towards speedy flight,
Without one glance within the bright
But treacherous wave; the very thought
Of sad Narcissus’ dooming brought
The beauty of the fountain
Fear to my heart. But soon I said:
“Whereof, O man, art thou afraid?
’Twere madness didst thou not essay
This fount wherein sweet sunbeams play.”
Forthwith then on my knees I sank,
Pressing the verdant mossy bank1590
With wish more closely to behold
The flood, and pebbles note (than gold
More bright), that freely paved the floor
Of that fair fount.
Without the door
Of paradise the blest, I ween
No sight more beauteous may be seen
Than this bright well. The gushing source
Springs ever fresh and sweet. Its course
It takes through runnels twain, full deep,
And broadly trenched; it knows no sleep1600
By day or night, for ne’er ’tis dried
By wasting drought of summer tide,
Nor hath stern winter’s iron hand
The power to make its waters stand
Immovable, but out the ground
Its babble calls, the whole year round,
Close, tender herbage, which doth push
Unceasingly, strong, thick and lush.
Fast in the fountain’s pavement shone
Two sparkling spheres of crystal stone,1610
Whereon my gaze with wonder fell:
And, when the tale thereof I tell,
Your ears will tingle as I trow,
And pleasure unto marvel grow.
When that the sun, which searcheth all
the things that live on earth, lets fall
His rays within this fount we see
An hundred colours gorgeously
Shine forth within the water bright,
Vermilion, azure, silvery white,1620
And richest gold. Such virtuous power
These crystals have that every flower
And tree within this pleasaunce seen,
Reflection finds in their sweet sheen;
How this doth hap most clearly I
Will by example testify.
E’en as a mirror casteth back
Each thing that fronts it, nor doth lack
In working thus to give amain
The form and colour once again,1630
So every crystal facet here
Reflects each detail sharp and clear
Of all that in this garden lies:
For whosoever casts his eyes
Thereon, one-half the garden sees,
And if to turn, his fancy please,
The other half is then revealed.
Nor are the smallest objects sealed
Or darkly hid, but all appear
Portrayed[errata 1] within those crystals clear.1640
Beware of the fate of Narcissus
Mirrored within this perilous place,
Narcissus loved too well his face
And lustrous eyes, with foolish pride,
Thence came his fall, and thence he died.
Alas! for him who doth admire
Himself herein—for love’s desire
Will seize his heart and nought can heal
His hopeless woe, nor aught anneal.
This mirror valiant men hath cost
Dear life; though fairly might they boast1650
Themselves for prudent, wise, and great,
They here alas! have found their fate.
Cupid toils
Hence passion springs in man anew
And to his life gives fresh purview,
No measure, sense, or mode knows he,
Love, love, alone, hath mastery
Good counsel to the winds is cast,
For Cupid, Venus’ son, hath passed
Around the fount to sow the grain
Whereof all men are madly fain,1660
The seed of Love to wit, and set
His springes there, and many a net
For damsels fair, and gallants eke:—
Such birds alone doth Cupid seek.
By reason of the seed there sown.
This Fountain is to all men known
As that of Love: thereof is told
The tale full oft in many an old
Romance and song, but ne’er before
Hath any man so fully or1670
So truly set all forth as now
’Tis writ within this book I trow.
Beside the fount awhile I stayed,
Admiring how the crystals made
Mirrors for all the lovesome things
That filled the garden. Memory brings
Before me that too long I let
engross my mind. Ah! yet
I feel these mirrors ’twas deceived
My soul, and could I have believed1680
What sorrow to their sight was wed,
Then had I turned my steps and fled,
As flees a man the plague. Ah me!
I fell—like others—woefully.
The Rose-bush
O’er all things mirrored there I chose
A rose bush, charged with many a rose,
Encinctured by a thick grown hedge,
And doubt ye not that though in pledge
Paris and Pavia held I both,
Mine heart in no degree were loth1690
To render up the twain so I
Might gaze thereon unceasingly.
Soon as I felt this passion seize
My heart, which oft hath caused misease
To wisest men, my longing drew
Me towards the rose-bush and then flew
Through all ray soul its savour sweet,
Which set my heart and pulse abeat
Like fire. And were it not for fear
That I the scot might pay too dear,1700
I surely should have dared to seize
A rosebud, seen nought else could please
My senses equally, but dread
Restrained ray hand lest, angerèd
Thereat, the guardian of the spot
Might thrust me thence straightway, God wot!
Aheap were roses! none I ween
Elsewhere ’neath Heaven’s blue dome hath seen
Such rich profusion; some as yet
Mere buds, which therefore ne’er had met1710
Rude Boreas’ kiss, while others were
Half opened, and such beauty rare
Displayed as no man would despise
Who once thereon had cast his eyes,
For roses which are broadly blown
Ere long begin to cast adown
Their petals, while the tender new
Fresh buds, as yet untouched by dew,
Will keep their beauty while the sun
His race through three full days doth run.1720
What ardent longing in my breast
These buds inspired! Whoso possessed
The power to pluck but one, right fain
Must be such glorious prize to gain,
And might I but secure a crown
Thereof, I would forego renown
One surpassing Rose-bud
And fortune fair. Amongst them all,
My rapturous eyes on one did fall,
Whose perfect loveliness outvied
All those beside it. I espied1730
With joy its lovely petals, which
Kind Nature’s hand had dyed with rich
Deep crimson hue. Its perfect leaves
Were formed of two quadruple sheaves,
Which side by side stood firm and fair,
W^ith stalk strong grown enough to bear
The full-grown bloom which did not bend
Or languish, but most sweetly spend
Its fragrance on the air around
And wrapt my senses in profound1740
Yet soft delight. Whene’er I smelt
Its odour, strong desire I felt
Possess me wholly that I might
Snatch for mine own that dear delight.
But thorns and thistles grew so thick
Around the rose-bush, prone to prick
And wound the profanous hand that dared
Approach and grasp it, that I spared
To risk the rash attempt, afraid
My love might be with wounds apaid.1750