Romance of the Rose (Ellis)/Chapter 91
XCI
How Nature’s stithy doth supply
Earth’s sons and daughters constantly,
For fear the race of men were spent,
If thereof proved she negligent.
A nd while the barons rent the air
With shouts, as this great oath they sware,
Nature, who tendeth everything
That lives ’neath heaven’s blue sheltering.
Into her workshop entered straight,
Where swinketh she both rathe and late,16650
To forge such pieces as may be
Used for the continuity
Of life; for she doth mould things so
That ne’er shall any species know
The power of death, but as one dies
Forthwith another may arise
To fill his place. In vain doth death
With hurrying footsteps spend his breath;
Nature’s method
So closely Nature followeth him,
That if some few are by his grim16660
And massive club destroyed who are
His due, (for some of them no bar
Oppose to him, but readily
Give welcome wheresoe’er they be,
Wasting themselves in common course,
While others through their waste gain force)
When he perchance doth fondly think
That one and all his cup must drink,
He is deceived, for though he catch
One here, another there doth hatch.16670
This one he taketh on the right,
But on the left a new one’s dight.
If Death perchance the father kill,
Mother, or son, or daughter still
Remain, though they the father dead
Have seen, and when their day is sped,
They too must fall beneath death’s power,
Nought stays the inevitable hour;
Nor subtlest leechdom, vow, nor prayer.
Nephews and nieces straightway fare16680
Afar, with hurrying feet, upbuoyed
With hope they may dread death avoid.
One doth him to the dance betake,
Another doth the minster make
His refuge, and a third the school,
While a fourth bends him ’neath the rule
Of merchandise, or arts, which he
Perchance had studied formerly.
And some will chase off care with fine
Luxurious meats and luscious wine.16690
While others with desire to fly
From death or moveless destiny,
You may on prancing steeds behold.
Their stirrups bright with glistering gold;
Thinking that thus they may escape
More speedily Death’s grisly shape.
Another on frail planks doth set
His hope, and trusts thereby to get
O’er sea, if so the stars avail
To guide his boat and help him sail16700
Afar from death. Another tries
By base hypocrisy and lies
’Neath guise of prayer to give the slip
To death when he his foot would trip;
Though of a truth must all men know
His life by what his actions show,
And thus it is that all men try
Vainly the grip of Death to fly.
None escape Death
But he, with hideous blackened face.
To all these fugitives gives chase,16710
Until he treadeth on their heels.
And each in turn his weapon feels
At ten years, twenty, or two score,
Or may be double that or more,
Nay, some to four score years and ten
Escape, or five score, but all men
His foot doth overtake at last,
And though it seem as though he passed
Some few, he turneth him again
To strike them down; futile and vain16720
Is leechcraft in the end, each one
He catcheth when his course is run.
Nay, even the great physicians he
Doth seize, how skilled soe’er they be.
Hippocrates and Galen eke,
Though strong of wit, ’gainst death were weak.
Constantine, Razis, Avicene,
All bowed ’neath his strong rule, I ween,
For far though men may run. Death will
With tireless foot run further still,16730
For he, whom nought can satisfy,
Will as voracious glutton try
All to devour, and therefore he
Pursues them over land and sea.
Yet howsoever much he strive.
He ne’er all living things can drive
At once within his net, nor shape
His snares so well that none escape.
The Phœnix
For if but only one remain,
That one will soon bring forth again;16740
And this we through the Phœnix know,
Which, though but one, anew doth grow
Unerringly.
On all the earth
One Phœnix only comes to birth
In five-and-twenty score of years;
And when the wondrous creature nears
Its end, it builds a funeral pyre
Of spices sweet, then setteth fire
Thereto, and burns itself to dust,
In such wise, as ’twould seem it must16750
Perish, but straight doth it arise
From out its ashes and bright skies
Seeketh once more, and so ’tis done
By God’s behest, that soon as one
Is dead, forthwith Dame Nature straight
To fill its place doth one create
Unceasingly, for did she not
The species must be sped, I wot,
And so ’twould come about, I ween,
No Phœnix in the world were seen.16760
But as ’tis, though a thousand died,
Nature another doth provide.
And in likewise doth everything
That dies, through Nature once more spring
To life anew. Beneath the moon
Whatever fails shall late or soon
Revive if only one remain
From whence the race new life may gain,
Nature abhors death
For Nature, pitiful and good,
Abhors and hates Death’s envious mood,16770
Who ruthlessly would mar and break
The fairest thing her skill doth make,
And seeing nought more fair can be,
Her own form ever stampeth she
On all her works, as men who mint
New coins, put on them their imprint,
And form and colour give to each;
And thereto striveth Art to reach
In copying Nature’s models, though
Such perfect work no man can show.16780
Art, falling on his knees before
Dame Nature humbly doth implore,
Beseech, and earnestly require
In suppliant form, that she inspire
His heart, if but in small degree.
Art inferior to Nature
How he may copy carefully
Her handiwork, and reproduce
Its form, for ornament or use,
Acknowledging inferior far
His works to be than Nature’s are.16790
Each method Art doth closely watch
And painfully essay to catch
Of Nature’s working, as an ape
His doings upon man’s doth shape;
But vainly, vainly, Art may try
To come near Nature’s mastery.
To nought that through man’s hand doth live
Can he her touch supernal give.
For Art, though he no labour shirk
To imitate great Nature’s work,16800
And set his hand to every kind
Of thing he may around him find,
Of whatsoever sort it be,
Painting and decking curiously
(And none of all the arts men leave
Untried, but paint, dye, carve and weave)
Armed warriors on their coursers dight,
Adorned and trapped in colours bright,
Purple and yellow, green and blue,
And many another varied hue;16810
Fair birds that pipe ’mid branches green,
And fish in crystal waters seen,
And all the wilding beasts that roam
In forest haunts, their native home;
And flowers and herbs in sunny glades,
Which merry youths and gladsome maids
Go forth in pleasant days of spring
To gather in their wandering;
Tame birds, and beasts all unafraid,
And games and dances ’neath the shade,16820
And noble dames in vesture fair,
In metal, wax, or wood with care
Portrayed, as they in life might stand,
And lovers clasping hand with hand:
But ne’er on panel, cloth, or wall,
Can subtlest art, whate’er befal,
Make Nature’s figures live and move,
Or speak, or feel joy, grief, or love.
Of Alchemy
Or if of alchemy Art learn
So much that he can metals turn16830
To varying colours, ne’er can he
Work them that they transmuted be,
Unless he by his skill may lead
Them back to that whence they proceed,
Nor working deftly till he die
Can pierce the subtle mystery
Of Nature. Nay, that he attain
The knowledge to transmute again
Metals to primary estate
’Twere needful first to calculate16840
Their qualities of tempering
If he would his elixir bring
To issue good, and thence produce
Pure metal for his later use.
But those who wot it best agree
How great an art is alchemy,
And whoso gives thereto his mind
In study wondrous things shall find;
For as in every species we
Find parts which taken separately16850
Are isolated, yet compose
One body when these join with those,
And this with that doth ever change
Throughout all Nature’s varying range,
And in such fashion they revolve
Till that doth into this resolve
Its nature, and they reappear
In different guise to what they were,
Ere purged and tried.
Nature’s mysteries
Behold we not
What different form the fern hath got16860
When ’tis by fire to ash reduced,
And straightway thence clear glass produced
By depuration, as we learn?
And yet we know glass is not fern,
And none would say that fern is glass.
And when we note the lightning pass
Which thunder brings, why do we see
Stones from the clouds fall presently
Which are not formed of stone at all?
Would we know this we needs must call16870
On learned men, for they alone
Can say why vapours turn to stone,
And how ’tis things so wide apart
Are changed by Nature or man’s art.
And so may men change metals who
Know with their substance what to do,
Drawing the dross apart from gold
Till nothing base the metals hold,
And brought together then shall be
Pure metals by affinity.16880
Fine gold is of its special kind,
However Nature hath combined
Aught else therewith in divers ways
Which ’neath its mother’s bosom stays
Entombed, till ’tis, when time hath worn
Of sulphur and quicksilver born.
For so by learned books we’re taught.
Alchemical science
Thence men have knowledge duly sought,
And whosoe’er thereby hath found
The means these spirits to compound,16890
And cause them so to mix and lie
That they no more apart can fly,
But in one mass with welding sure
Together come, purged clear and pure,
And force the sulphur to lie dead,
Coloured at will, or white or red,
That man shall have, who worketh so,
All metals ’neath his power, I trow.
And thus of quicksilver, fine gold
Those make who perfect knowledge hold16900
Of alchemy, and colour add
And weight, through things that may be had
At little cost, and precious stones
From gold men make, whose worth atones
For all the labour.
In likewise
Men may with subtle art devise
How to pure silver may be turned
All baser metals, when they’ve learned
By means of drugs, strong, clear, and fine,
To bring to end this art divine.16910
But this alone is for the ken
Of learned and right worthy men,
Who labour hard, nor seek to shirk
The perfecting of Nature’s work.
Quacks and impostors strive in vain,
To them her marvels sealed remain.
Nature’s distress
Then busy Nature, whose desire
Is ever to keep bright the fire
Of life in all her works, raised high
Her voice and wept so plaintively,16920
That not a piteous heart and tender
Beats but would fain its tribute render
To her deep grief, the which so keen
And deep was for one fault I ween,
That prompting strong, she felt to shirk
Her duties and forego her work,
But that she greatly feared offence
To give her lord by indolence.
It little needs to seek what thing
Upon her heart such suffering16930
And misery brought. Gladly would I
Apply myself ententively
All Nature to describe to you
Deemed I my wit sufficed thereto.
My wit! alas! what have I said?
For none of those wise men, long dead,
Great Aristotle or Plato,
Who knew far more than most men know,
Either by written word or speech,
Could unto that great secret reach;16940
Algus, or Ptolemy, or Euclid,
From whom scarce anything was hid,
In vain might exercise their wit,
Therefrom would grow small benefit,
Though they should boldly undertake
Research profound and long to make.
Nay, e’en Pygmalion might essay
In vain her fairness to portray;
Parrhasius and Apelles eke,
The secrets of Nature
Great masters both, might vainly seek16950
Her wondrous beauties to express,
And show forth all her loveliness;
Nor Polycletus nor Myron
Her faultless form by art have shown.