Romance of the Rose (Ellis)/Chapter 46
XLVI
The Friend the Lover doth remind
That one man only did he find
Faithful in poverty, but he
Gave all he had, unstintingly.8470
A faithful friend
I come, dear friend, quoth he, to make
An offering free, for friendship’s sake,
Alike of life and goods, fear not
To share with me in common lot.
How much then? Nay, no part, but all,
If for the whole your need doth call.
Of Fortune’s gifts, the entire sum
With me weighs not one worthless plum
As ’gainst a friend, nor e’en would I
To you those precious gifts deny8480
Friendship unfeigned
Kind nature gave me: since the day
That first we met, not once astray
Have gone our hearts, but many a proof
Have had that, like the web with woof,
Are they conjoined in friendship true,
And proof alone assurance due
Affordeth of a friendship’s worth.
If all that I possess on earth
You deigned to take, my heart would be
Grateful to you exceedingly,8490
So powerful are the cords that bind
Two men whose bodies hold one mind.
For I, quoth he, to heal your woe
To prison, light of heart, would go
As borrow, pawn, or hostage plight,
While all my goods were sold outright
For your behoof.
But this dear friend
Permitted not his work to end
With offering, but would take no rest
Until he generously had pressed8500
His having on me, who, for shame,
Stood silently, as one who’d blame
Himself, yet dares not ope his lips
To tell the wretchedness that grips
His inmost heart, but tries to hide
The poverty that like a tide
O’erwhelms him, and with cheerful face
Would fain conceal his dire disgrace.
Far different is the case, I doubt,
With monkish mendicants, those stout8510
Of begging friars
And thriving blades, the begging friars,
Who show themselves as rough as briars
In open street, but love to win,
With oily tongues, their way within
The goodmen’s houses whom they cheat
With lying words, while drink and meat
They batten on; and though they sing
Their poverty, they’re gathering
Fat livelihood, and many a heap
Of deniers have they dolven deep8520
Beneath the earth.
Much more could I
Relate of this fraternity,
But thereby should from bad to worse
Be thrust, and fear their spiteful curse,
For none these hypocrites, forsooth,
So hate as those who speak the truth.
Alas then! I must count me mad
That such blind confidence I had
In treacherous friends, from whom I got
No help, but all alone to rot8530
Was left, rejected and despised
Of all the crowd which erst had prized
My friendship mightily. Alone
You stood my friend when all were gone,
Your heart with mine fast intertwined,
And both, please God, shall stand combined
In constant love.
But out, alas!
One day our mortal forms must pass
From this terrestrial life, and we
Forego each other’s company,8540
Friendship outlasts death
When comes the last and dreadful day,
And all our bodies ’neath the sway
Of death must fall; but even then
Death, nought, dear friend, can snatch from men
Except their bodies and recall
To earth their substance corporal.
Death’s iron hand will seize us both
Ere long, however much we’re loth
To meet him.
Rarely doth Death take
Two friends together, yet I make8550
No question if I first am ta’en,
I still shall in your heart remain
Embalmed; or if ’tis yours to die
Before me, rest assured that I
Shall keep your memory green.
E’en so
The records of past ages show
How bitterly great Theseus grieved
When Peirithous from him was reived
By death, and sought his friend in hell.
But Poverty is far more fell8560
And cruel than grim Death: to soul
And body both it bringeth dole,
Without the respite of an hour,
And urgeth men to actions dour,
Of murder, theft, and perjury,
And whatso other vice may be
Wherewith man’s race is pesterèd,
While oftentimes doth Death bestead
Men in their woes, which, howso great
They be, his hand will dissipate.8570
Beware of poverty
And therefore, dear companion, now
Remember Solomon, whose brow
Of old bore Israel’s diadem,
And left us many an apophthegm,
Whereof one saith: Beware, my son,
Of poverty whilst living on
The earth: and in another breath
He furthereth this good word, and saith:
Better it is, by far, to die
Than live on earth in poverty,8580
Since, against those who own them poor,
Their very brethren shut the door;
And of poor caitiffs speaking still,
Whose lot it is to bear the ill
Of indigence, he shows how they
In woeful wise wear through their day.
Scarce can a man’s estate be worse
Than when stark bare he finds his purse;
For those who on the laws have writ
Declare the indigent unfit8590
To testify as witnesses;
And in the statute book it says,
That poor, impoverished men must lie
In the same bed with infamy.
Of beauty, poverty is bare;
But I with full assurance dare
Affirm, that if good store of gold,
And jewels rich, your coffers hold,
Then may you have fair hope to gain
Such wealth of roses as may fain8600
Presents avail much
Your heart: they ne’er shall be fast closed
Against you, if you’re well disposed
To lavish gifts, as you have been
Profuse of promises, I ween.
It needs not to be over-rich,
But have a care you do not stitch
Your purse too closely; give with care
Such presents as, though choice and fair,
Are small of cost and leave you still
Some coin to line your purse, for ill8610
You’d surely fare if you were left
Penniless; of all wealth bereft
But little sympathy you’d find,
While many a one would mock behind
His back at him who, like a fool,
Let fond desire o’er reason rule,
Paying the favours that he got
With ruin of his life, God wot.
In my esteem there’s nought more sweet
Than some belovèd face to greet8620
With pretty presents choicely set
In dainty cloth or wicker net:
Sweet figs, or gooseberries or cherries,
Black bramble fruit, or huckleberries,
A luscious peach with velvet skin,
Or rosy, smooth-faced nectarine,
Berries of service tree or lote,
Or medlars soft with russet coat,
Dark plums or grapes with silvery bloom,
Or strawberries, which through all the room8630
Cast fragrance, almonds, hard of shell,
But whose sweet kernel payeth well
The pains to force it, or the rud
Rich mulberries which fair Thisbe’s blood
Distained: and if perchance you are
Compelled to buy them, say from far
Your pains have brought them, though they come
From nearest market; mingle some
Sweet flowers with fruits, fair roses pink
And white, and violets, and pervinke8640
Of sapphire hue, and other flowers
That gladden spring and summer hours.
Gifts more than words
A dainty gift will often reach
Rough hearts and modify rude speech.
And if perchance some ill men know
Concerning you, they’ll be more slow
To blurt it forth. Oft gifts have made
Heroes of those who in the shade
Had lain without them. Delicate meats
And wines have often won fat seats8650
For prebendaries. How men live
Matters but little if they give
Freely, for oft a handsome gift
Hath had the power to fill a rift
In honesty or virtue, and
While praise the giver gains, a band
’Twill put on the receiver, who
His freedom thereby sells to you,
And soul and body puts to price,
Drawn on thereto by avarice.8660
With what word shall I finish then?
Good gifts are loved of Gods and men.
If you but lend a willing ear
To that I say, you need not fear
But what the God of Love will show
You grace and favour when you go
To seize the fort; whatever he
Hath promised shall accomplished be.
For so will Love and Venus fight
The gaolers, that in their despite8670
The Rosebud you your own may call,
Though hemmed around by rampart wall.
Hold love when won
But when at last you have attained
Your end, and heart and soul are fained
Therewith, wise prudence it demands
To hold the prize; for when with hands
And brain we painfully have wrought
To win, experience dire hath taught
That harder ’tis to hold. He well
May rail at Fortune’s cruel spell8680
Who loses her on whom was placed
His tenderest love, although were traced
The cause to his misdeed. No pains
A man should spare, when once he gains
A gracious woman’s love, to keep
The treasure to himself, nor cheap
Esteem God’s gift, more specially
If virtuous, wise, and fair she be,
Yet lays no scheme or plot from whence
Guerdon to seek or recompense,8690
For ne’er was love yet put to price,
Except by those in whom foul vice
Had made its woning. Ne’er in dames
Who sell them have the gentle flames
Of true love burned; keep thou away
From such—foul-fire doth in them play.
Women are coquets
But mostly women are, forsooth,
Exacting, void of pitying ruth,
’For all, alas! towards those who prove
Loyal and faithful in their love,8700
Ready to raven and devour
Whate’er may fall within their power.
And Juvenal hath said, I ween.
Speaking of one hight Iberine,
That sooner would she lose an eye
Than trust one man to satisfy
Her burning lusts, for like hell-fire
Raged her insatiable desire.
No woman, saith he, e’er was known
Who loved a man for love alone8710
In suchwise that her heart were not
Mindful what goods or gold he’d got.
Judge what she is then who herself
Body and soul will sell for pelf.
Never, he saith, was woman found,
Who did not love to prove and sound
Her lover’s faith by coquetry;
Although to him she subject be,
This passion is ingrained. Such is
Juvenal’s sentence, but to this8720
Exceptions bright there are, I trow,
As he, I doubt not, would allow,
While censuring women void of grace.
Yet, if the mistress that hath place
Within your soul be soft and sweet,
Faithful and gentle, then ’twere meet
True love to give for love. The kind
And courteous lover looks to find
Mind more than beauty
Not beauty only in the form
Of her towards whom his heart-strings warm,8730
But will those virtues rather prize
Which live when outward beauty dies;
A mind enlightened with fair store
Of art and science, and the lore
That housewives need; for those who know
The worth of wit will count the show
Of outward beauty for a thing
Unstable, frail, and perishing
As flowerets that bedeck the lawn,
Faded at eve, though blown at dawn.8740
Fairer a woman’s face, alas!
More quickly doth her beauty pass.
But fine intelligence and wit
Maketh a woman helpmeet fit
For man in suchwise, that life’s end
Will find her still the cherished friend
Of him who loved her youth. A spouse
Courteous and gentle should arouse
A woman’s tender love, and she.
Mingling goodwill with courtesy,8750
Will see her love returned.
If one
Should ask if much I set upon
The power or worth of canzonettes,
Ballads, and songs, and rhymed motets,
A mistress’ heart to captivate,
I needs must say, dear friend, that prate
Is much less worth than gifts, but yet
Such things some grateful praise beget.
More lightly women’s hearts are thrilled
To see a good-sized purse well filled8760
With golden chinking bezants, then
They’ll run with open arms towards men,
For they—for better or for worse—
Most dearly love a well-lined purse.
Far different once was man’s estate,
But now the world’s degenerate.
The golden age
How pleasant were earth’s simpler ways
In our progenitors’ first days!
Old legends tell us how the fires
Of love burned bright amongst our sires;8770
No man called this or that his own,
And lust and rapine nought were known.
While ’dured that glorious golden age,
No man could boast of seigniorage,
No man affected robes of state.
No man e’er craved for delicate
Spiced meats, but simple woodland fruits,
Beech mast, or nuts, or wholesome roots
From out the earth all needs supplied;
While fish and flesh were left aside8780
As needless, ’mid the coverts wild
Men sought kind Nature’s store of mild
And bloodless food; the wilding vine
Gave berries though they knew not wine,
Apples and pears, and mulberries,
Rich plums and chestnuts, beans and peas,
And herbs and mushrooms from the field,
While valleys, plains, and heights would yield
Due sustenance from day to day.
From ears of corn they rubbed away8790
The chaff betwixt their palms; they sipped
The brown bees’ store which plenteous dripped
From ancient oak-tree boles, they drank
Clear water kneeling on the bank
Of crystal streams, nor dreamed to dight
Piment therein for appetite;
Nor longed for wine grown old in tun,
With weary treading hardly won.
The fruitful earth no need to ear
Had they, it foisoned ’neath God’s care.8800
Thus amply fed, they had no wish
For salmons, pikes, or aught of fish.
They sheepskins wore against the harm
Of winter, or thence wove them warm
And simple vesture, which no dye
Of grain or herb e’er came anigh.
Green broom or rushes roofed their cots,
Or sheltered they in hillside grots
Fenced in with boughs, or hollow oaks
Gave shelter ’gainst rude winter’s strokes.8810