This gentle beast so died, whom nothing could remove,
But willingly to lese his life for loss of his true love.1 40
Other there be whose lives do linger still in pain,
Against their will preserved are, that would have died
fain.

But now I do perceive that nought it moveth you,

My good intent, my gentle heart, nor yet my kind so true; But that your will is such to lure me to the trade,

As other some full many years trace by the craft ye made. And thus behold our kinds, how that we differ far;

I seek my foes, and you your friends do threaten still with war.

I fawn where I am fled, you slay that seeks to you :

I can devour no yielding prey, you kill where you sub

due;

My kind is to desire the honour of the field;

And

you with blood to slake your thirst on such as to
you yield.

50

Wherefore I would you wist, that for your coyed looks,
I am no man that will be trapp'd, nor tangled with such

hooks.

And though some lust to love, where blame full well they might;

And to such beasts of current sort that would have travail

bright;

I will observe the law that Nature gave to me,

To conquer such as will resist, and let the rest go free.
And as a falcon free, that soareth in the air,
Which never fed on hand nor lure, nor for no stale 2

doth care,

60

1 Thomas Howard, half uncle to Surrey, was committed to the Tower for having, without the knowledge of Henry VIII., affianced himself to the Lady Margaret Douglas, daughter of Margaret, Queen of Scotland, the King's sister. He died in the Tower after a confinement of two years.-2 Stale:' a piece of meat used to allure falcons back to the hand.

While that I live and breathe, such shall my custom be 61 In wildness of the woods to seek my prey, where pleaseth

me;

Where many one shall rue, that never made offence; Thus your refuse against my power shall boot them no defence;

And for revenge thereof I vow and swear thereto,

A thousand spoils I shall commit I never thought to do ;
And if to light on you my luck so good shall be,
I shall be glad to feed on that, that would have fed on me.
And thus farewell, Unkind, to whom I bent and bow;
I would you wist, the ship is safe that bare his sails so
low.

Sith that a lion's heart is for a wolf no prey,

70

With bloody mouth go slake your thirst on simple sheep,

I say,

With more despite and ire than I can now express; Which to my pain, though I refrain, the cause you may

well guess.

As for because myself was author of the game,

It boots me not that for my wrath I should disturb the

same.'

THE FAITHFUL LOVER

DECLARETH HIS PAINS AND HIS UNCERTAIN JOYS, AND
WITH ONLY HOPE RECOMFORTETH SOMEWHAT
HIS WOFUL HEART.

IF care do cause men cry, why do not I complain?
If each man do bewail his woe, why show not I my pain?
Since that amongst them all, I dare well say is none

So far from weal, so full of woe, or hath more cause to

moan.

5

For all things having life sometime hath quiet rest;
The bearing ass, the drawing ox, and every other beast;
The peasant, and the post, that serves at all assays;
The ship-boy and the galley-slave, have time to take
their ease;

Save I, alas! whom care of force doth so constrain
To wail the day, and wake the night, continually in
pain;

10

From pensiveness to plaint, from plaint to bitter tears, From tears to painful plaint again; and thus my life it

wears.

Nothing under the sun, that I can hear or see,

But moveth me for to bewail my cruel destiny.
For where men do rejoice, since that I cannot so,

I take no pleasure in that place, it doubleth but my woe.
And when I hear the sound of song or instrument,
Methink each tune there doleful is, and helps me to
lament.

And if I see some have their most desired sight,

'Alas!' think I, 'each man hath weal, save I, most woful wight.'

20

Then as the stricken deer withdraws himself alone,
So do I seek some secret place, where I may make my

moan.

There do my flowing eyes show forth my melting heart; So that the streams of those two wells right well declare

my smart ;

And in those cares so cold, I force myself a heat,

(As sick men in their shaking fits procure themselves to sweat,)

With thoughts that for the time do much appease my

pain :

But yet they cause a farther fear, and breed my woe

again.

Methink within my thought I see right plain appear 29 My heart's delight, my sorrow's leech, mine earthly goddess here,

With every sundry grace, that I have seen her have : Thus I within my woful breast her picture paint and

grave;

And in my thought I roll her beauties to and fro,

Her laughing chere, her lively look, my heart that pierced so,
Her strangeness when I sued her servant for to be,
And what she said, and how she smiled, when that she
pitied me.

Then comes a sudden fear that reaveth1 all my rest,
Lest absence cause forgetfulness to sink within her
breast.

For when I think how far this earth doth us divide, Alas! me seems love throws me down; I feel how that I slide.

40

But then I think again, 'Why should I thus mistrust
So sweet a wight, so sad and wise, that is so true and just?
For loath she was to love, and wavering is she not;
The farther off the more desired.' Thus lovers tie their

knot.

So in despair and hope plunged am I both up and down, As is the ship with wind and wave, when Neptune list to frown:

But as the watery showers delay the raging wind,

So doth good hope clean put away despair out of my mind;

And bids me for to serve, and suffer patiently:

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For what wot I the after weal that fortune wills to me? For those that care do know, and tasted have of trouble, When passed is their woful pain, each joy shall seem them double,

And bitter sends she now, to make me taste the better The pleasant sweet, when that it comes, to make it seem the sweeter.

And so determine I to serve until my breath;

54

Yea, rather die a thousand times, than once to false my faith.

And if

my feeble corpse, through weight of woful smart, Do fail, or faint, my will it is that still she keep my

heart;

And when this carcass here to earth shall be refared,
I do bequeath my wearied ghost to serve her afterward.

THE MEANS TO ATTAIN HAPPY LIFE.1

1 MARTIAL, the things that do attain The happy life, be these, I find: The riches left, not got with pain;

The fruitful ground, the quiet mind:

2 The equal friend; no grudge, no strife;
No charge of rule nor governance;
Without disease, the healthful life;
The household of continuance :

3 The mean diet, no delicate fare;

True wisdom join'd with simpleness;
The night discharged of all care,

Where wine the wit may not oppress:

4 The faithful wife, without debate ;

Such sleeps as may beguile the night;
Contented with thine own estate;

Ne wish for Death, ne fear his might.

'A translation from Martial, one of the earliest in the language.