Petrarch in English

by Thomas Roche (ed)

  120 Scarlet and white, their pleasing springs were seen;

  And gliding streames amongst the tender grasse,

  Thickets and soft winds to refresh the place.

  After when Winter maketh sharp the Aire,

  Warme leaves, and leasure, sports, and gallant cheare

  Enthrall low minds. Now th’ equinox hath made

  The day t’ equal the night; and Progne had

  With her sweet sister, each their old taske taine:

  (Ah! how the faith in Fortune plac’t is vain!)

  Just in the time, and place, and in the houre

  130 When humble tears should earthly joys devoure,

  It pleased him, whom th’ vulgar honour so,

  To triumph over me; and now I know

  What miserable servitude they prove,

  What ruine, and what death, that fall in Love.

  Errours, dreams, palenesse waiteth on his chair,

  False fancies o’re the doore, and on the stair

  Are slipry hopes, unprofitable gain,

  And gainfull losse; such steps it doth contain,

  As who descend, may boast their fortune best:

  140 Who most ascend, most fall: a wearied rest,

  And resting trouble, glorious disgrace;

  A duskish and obscure illustriousnesse;

  Unfaithful loyalty, and cozening faith,

  That nimble fury, lazy reason hath:

  A prison, whose wide wayes doe all receive,

  Whose narrow paths a hard retiring leave:

  A steep descent, by which we slide with ease,

  But finde no hold our crawling steps to raise:

  Within confusion, turbulence, annoy

  150 Are mixt; undoubted woe, and doubtful joy:

  Vulcano, where the sooty Cyclops dwel;

  Lyparis, Strombolli, nor Mongibel,

  Nor Ischia, have more horrid noise and smoke:

  He hates himselfe that stoops to such a yoke.

  Thus were we all throng’d in so strait a cage,

  I chang’d my looks and hair, before my age,

  Dreaming on liberty (by strong desire

  My soul made apt to hope) and did admire

  Those gallant mindes, enslav’d to such a woe,

  160 (My heart within my brest dissolv’d like snow

  Before the Sunne) as one would side-wayes cast

  His eye on pictures, which his feet hath past.

  The Triumph of Chastity

  ANNA HUME (fl. 1644)

  The Triumph of Chastitie

  Chap. I

  The Argument

  Chastitie binds the winged god,

  And makes him subject to her rod.

  WHEN to one yoke at once I saw the height

  Of gods and men subdu’d by Cupids might;

  I tooke example from their cruel fate,

  And by their sufferings eas’d my owne hard state:

  Since Phoebus and Leander felt like paine,

  The one a God, the other but humane.

  One snare catcht Juno, and the Carthage Dame,

  (Her Husbands death prepar’d her funerall flame,

  ’Twas not a cause that Virgil maketh one)

  10 I need not grieve, that unprepar’d, alone,

  Unarm’d, and young, I did receive a wound,

  Or that my enemy no hurt hath found

  By Love; or that she cloath’d him in my sight,

  And tooke his wings, and marr’d his winding flight:

  No angry Lions send more hideous noyse

  From their beat breasts, nor clashing thunders voyce

  Rends Heav’n, frights Earth, and roareth through the aire

  With greater force, then Love had rais’d, to dare

  Encounter her, of whom I write; and she

  20 As quicke and ready to assaile, as he:

  Enceladus when Ætna most he shakes,

  Nor angry Scylla, nor Charybdis makes

  So great and frightfull noyse, as did the shock

  Of this (first doubtfull) battel, none could mock

  Such earnest warre; all drew them to the height

  To see what maz’d their hearts, and dimm’d their sight.

  Victorious Love a threatening dart did show

  His right hand held; the other bore a bow,

  The string of which he drew just by his eare;

  30 No Leopard could chase a frighted Deere

  (Free, or broke loose) with quicker speed, then he

  Made haste to wound; fire sparkled from his eye:

  I burn’d, and had a combat in my brest,

  Glad t’ have her company, yet ’twas not best

  (Me thought) to see her lost, but ’tis in vain

  T’abandon goodnesse, and of fate complaine:

  Vertue her servants never will forsake,

  As now ’twas seen, she could resistance make:

  No Fencer ever better warded blow,

  40 Nor Pilot did to shore more wisely row

  To shun a shelfe, then with undaunted power

  She wav’d the stroke of this sharp Conquerour.

  Mine eyes and heart were watchfull to attend,

  In hope the victory would that way bend

  It ever did; and that I might no more

  Be barr’d from her; as one, whose thoughts, before

  His tongue hath utter’d them, you well may see

  Writ in his looks; O! if you victour be

  Great Sir, (said I) let her and me be bound

  50 Both with one yoke; I may be worthy found,

  And will not set her free, doubt not my faith:

  When I beheld her with disdain and wrath

  So fill’d, that to relate it, would demand

  A better Muse then mine: her vertuous hand

  Had quickly quench’t those guilded fiery darts,

  Which dipt in beauties pleasure, poyson hearts.

  Neither Camilla, nor the warre-like hoast,

  That cut their brests, could so much valour boast;

  Nor Caesar in Pharsalia fought so well,

  60 As she ’gainst him, who pierceth coats of mail;

  All her brave vertues arm’d, attended there,

  (A glorious troup!) and marched paire by paire:

  Honour and blushes first in ranke; the two

  Religious vertues make the second row;

  (By those she other women doth excell)

  Prudence, and Modesty, the twins that dwell

  Together, both were lodged in her brest;

  Glory and Perseverance ever blest:

  Fair Entertainment, Providence without,

  70 Sweet courtesie and purenesse round about;

  Respect of credit, fear of infamy;

  Grave thoughts in youth, and what not oft agree,

  True Chastitie, and rarest beauty; these

  All came ’gainst Love, and this the heav’ns did please,

  And every generous soule in that full height,

  He had no power left to beare the weight!

  A thousand famous prizes hardly gain’d

  She tooke; and thousand glorious palms obtain’d,

  Shooke from his hands; the fall was not more strange

  80 Of Hannibal, when Fortune pleas’d to change

  Her minde, and on the Romane youth bestow

  The favours he enjoy’d; nor was he so

  Amaz’d, who frighted th’ Isralitish hoast

  Struck by the Hebrew boy, that quit his boast;

  Nor Cirus more astonisht at the fall

  The Jewish widow gave his Generall:

  As one that sickens suddenly, and feares

  His life, or as a man tane unawares

  In some base act, and doth the finder hate;

  90 Just so was he, or in a worse estate:

  Feare, griefe and shame, and anger in his face

  Were seen, no troubled Seas more rage, the place

  Where huge Typheus grones, nor Etna when

  Her Gian
t sighs, were mov’d as he was then.

  I passe by many noble things I see;

  (To write them, were too hard a taske for me)

  To her and those that did attend, I go;

  Her armour was a robe more white than snow;

  And in her hand a shield like his she bare

  100 Who slew Medusa, a faire pillar there

  Of Jasp was fixt, and with a chain (first wet

  In Lethe floud) of Jewels fitly set,

  Diamonds mixt with Topasses (of old

  ’Twas worne by Ladies, now ’tis not) first hold

  She catch’t, then bound him fast, then such revenge

  She tooke, as might suffice: my thoughts did change;

  And I who wisht him victory before,

  Was satisfi’d, he now could hurt no more.

  I cannot in my rimes the names contain

  110 Of blessed Maids that did make up her train;

  Calliope nor Clio could suffice,

  Nor all the other seven, for th’ enterprise:

  Yet some I will insert may justly claime

  Precedency of others. Lucrece came

  On her right hand; Penelope was by,

  Those broke his bow, and made his arrowes ly

  Split on the ground, and pull’d his plumes away

  From off his wings: after Virginia

  Nere her vext father, arm’d with wrath and hate,

  120 Fury, and iron and Love, he freed the state

  And her from slavery, with a manly blow:

  Next were those barbarous women, who could show

  They judg’d it better die then suffer wrong

  To their rude Chastitie: the wise and strong

  The chaste Hebræan Judith followeth these;

  The Greeke that sav’d her honour in the Seas.

  With these and other famous soules I see

  Her Triumph over him, who us’d to be

  Master of all the world: Amongst the rest

  130 The vestal Nunne I spide, who was so blest

  As by a wonder to preserve her fame.

  Next came Hersilia the Romane Dame

  (Or Sabine rather) with her valarous train,

  Who prove all slanders on that sexe are vain.

  Then ’mongst the forraign Ladies, she whose faith

  T’ her husband (not Æneas) caus’d her death;

  The vulgar ignorant may hold their peace,

  Her safety to her Chastitie gave place;

  Dido I mean, whom no vain passion led,

  140 (As fame belies her) last, the vertuous Maide

  Retir’d to Aruns, who no rest could finde,

  Her friends constraining power forc’t her mind:

  The Triumph thither went, where salt waves wet

  The Bayan shore, eastward; her foot she set

  There on firme land, and did Avernus leave

  On the one hand, on th’ other Sybils Cave,

  So to Lencernus marcht, the Village where

  The noble Africane lies buried; there

  The great newes of her Triumph did appeare

  150 As glorious to the eye, as to the eare,

  The fame had been; and the most chaste did show

  Most beautifull; it griev’d Love much to go

  Anothers prisoner, expos’d to scorne,

  Who to command whole Empires seemed borne.

  Thus to the chiefest City all were led,

  Entering the Temple which Sulpitia made

  Sacred; it drives all madnesse from the minde;

  And chastities pure Temple next we finde,

  Which in brave soules doth modest thoughts beget,

  160 Not by Plebeians entred, but the great

  Patrician Dames; there were the spoyles displaid

  Of the faire victresse; there her palmes she laid,

  And did commit them to the Thuscan youth,

  Whose marring scarres beare witnesse of his truth:

  With others more, whose names I fully knew,

  (My guide instructed me) that overthrew

  The power of Love ’mongst whom of all the rest,

  Hyppolito and Joseph were the best.

  The Triumph of Death

  MARY SIDNEY, COUNTESS OF PEMBROKE (1561–1621)

  ‘Sidney’s sister, Pembroke’s mother’, as William Browne called her, Mary Sidney was the younger sister of Sir Philip Sidney. Together they collaborated on translating the Psalms, and after his death she brought out a version of his Arcadia (1598). She also published her translation of Robert Garnier’s Antonius, as well as Philippe de Mornay’s A Discourse of Life and Death. She is the first lady of English literary history. Text from MS Petyt 538 (Inner Temple Library) as presented by Frances Berkeley Young in PMLA (1912).

  The Triumphe of death translated out of Italian by the Countesse of Pembrooke: the first chapter

  That gallant Ladie, gloriouslie bright,

  The statelie pillar once of worthinesse,

  And now a little dust, a naked spright:

  Turn’d from hir warres a ioyefull conqueresse:

  Hir warres, where she had foyled the mightie foe,

  Whose wylie stratagems the world distresse,

  And foyl’d him, not with sword, with speare or bowe,

  But with chaste heart, faire visage, upright thought,

  wise speache, which did with honor linked goe:

  10 And love’s new plight to see strange wonders wrought

  With shiuered bowe, chaste arrowes, quenched flame

  While here som slaine, and there laye others caught.

  She, and the rest, who in the glorious fame

  Of the exploit, hir chosen mates, did share,

  All in one squadronet close ranged came.

  A few, for nature makes true glorie rare,

  But eache alone (so eache alone did shine)

  Claym’d whole Historian’s, whole Poete’s care.

  Borne in greene field, a snowy Ermiline

  20 Colored with [topaces], sett in fine golde

  Was this faire companies unfoyled signe.

  No earthlie marche, but heauenly, did they hould;

  Their speaches holie ware, and happie those,

  Whoso are borne, to be with them enroll’d.

  Cleare starrs they send, which did a Sunne unclose,

  Who hyding none, yett all did beawtifie

  With coronets deckt with violet and rose;

  And as gain’d honor, filled with iollitie

  Each gentle heart, so made they merrie cheere,

  30 When loe, an ensigne sad I might descrie,

  Black, and in black a woman did appeere,

  Furie with hir, such as I scarcelie knowe

  If lyke at Phlegra with the Giants were.

  Thow Dame, quoth she, that doeth so proudlie goe,

  Standing upon thy youth, and beauties state,

  And of thy life the limits doest not knowe,

  Loe, I am shee, so fierce, importunate,

  And deafe, and blinde, entytled oft by yow,

  Yow, whom with night ere euening I awate.

  40 I to their end, the Greekish nation drewe,

  The Troian first, the Romane afterward,

  With edge and point of this my blade I slewe.

  And no Barbarian my blowe could warde,

  Who stealing on with unexpected wound

  Of idle thoughts have manie thousand marr’d.

  And now no lesse to yow-ward am I bound

  While life is dearest, ere to cause [you] moane.

  Fortune som bitter with [your] sweetes compound.

  To this, thow right or interest hast none,

  50 Little to me, but onelie to this spoile.

  Replide then she, who in the world was one.

  This charge of woe on others will recoyle,

  I know, whose safetie on my life depends:

  For me I thank who shall me hence assoile.

  As one whose eyes som noveltie attend,

  And w
hat it mark’t not first, it spyde at last,

  New wonders with it-self, now comprehends.

  So far’d the cruell, deepelie over-cast

  With doubt awhile, then spake, I know them now.

  60 I now remember when my teeth they past.

  Then with lesse frowning, and lesse darkned browe,

  But thow that lead’st this goodlie companie,

  Didst neuer yett unto my scepter bowe.

  But on my counsell if thow wilt relye,

  Who maie inforce thee; better is by farre

  From age and ages lothsomnesse to flye.

  More honored by me, then others are

  Thow shalt thee finde; and neither feare nor paine

  The passage shall of thy departure barre.

  70 As lykes that Lord, who in the heau’n doeth raigne,

  And thence this all doeth moderatelie guide:

  As others doe, I shall thee entretaine:

  So answered she, and I with-all descryde

  Of dead appeare a neuer-numbred summe,

  Pestring the plaine, from one to th’other side.

  From India, Spaine, Cattay, Marocco, [come],

  So manie Ages did together falle,

  That worlds were fill’d, and yett they wanted roome.

  There saw I, whom their times did happie calle,

  80 Popes, Emperors, and kings, but strangelie growen,

  All naked now, all needie, beggars all.

  Where is that wealth? where are those honors gonne?

  Scepters, and crownes, and roabes and purple dye?

  And costlie myters, sett with pearle and stone?

  O wretch who doest in mortall things affye:

  (Yett who but doeth) and if in end they dye

  Them-selues beguil’d, they find but right, saie I.

  What meanes this toyle? Oh blinde, oh more then blinde:

  Yow all returne, to your greate Mother, olde,

  90 And hardlie leave your verie names behinde.

  Bring me, who doeth your studies well behoulde.

  And of your cares not manifestlie vaine

  One lett him tell me, when he all hath tolde.

  So manie lands to winne, what bootes the paine?

  And on strange lands, tributes to impose,

  With hearts still griedie, their owne losse to gaine,

  After all theise, wherin yow winning loose

  Treasures and territories deere bought with blood;

  Water, and bread hath a farre sweeter close.

  100 And golde and gem gives place to glasse and wood:

  But leaste I should too-long degression make

  To turne to my first taske I think it good.

  Now that short-glorious life hir leave to take