FROM 'GONDIBERT'—CANTO II.
THE ARGUMENT.
The hunting which did yearly celebrate
The Lombards' glory, and the Vandals' fate:
The hunters praised; how true to love they are,
How calm in peace and tempest-like in war.
The stag is by the numerous chase subdued,
And straight his hunters are as hard pursued.
1 Small are the seeds Fate does unheeded sow
Of slight beginnings to important ends;
Whilst wonder, which does best our reverence show
To Heaven, all reason's sight in gazing spends.
2 For from a day's brief pleasure did proceed,
A day grown black in Lombard histories,
Such lasting griefs as thou shalt weep to read,
Though even thine own sad love had drained thine eyes.
3 In a fair forest, near Verona's plain,
Fresh as if Nature's youth chose there a shade,
The Duke, with many lovers in his train,
Loyal and young, a solemn hunting made.
4 Much was his train enlarged by their resort
Who much his grandsire loved, and hither came
To celebrate this day with annual sport,
On which by battle here he earned his fame,
5 And many of these noble hunters bore
Command amongst the youth at Bergamo;
Whose fathers gathered here the wreaths they wore,
When in this forest they interred the foe.
6 Count Hurgonil, a youth of high descent,
Was listed here, and in the story great;
He followed honour, when towards death it went;
Fierce in a charge, but temperate in retreat.
7 His wondrous beauty, which the world approved,
He blushing hid, and now no more would own
(Since he the Duke's unequalled sister loved)
Than an old wreath when newly overthrown.
8 And she, Orna the shy! did seem in life
So bashful too, to have her beauty shown,
As I may doubt her shade with Fame at strife,
That in these vicious times would make it known.
9 Not less in public voice was Arnold here;
He that on Tuscan tombs his trophies raised;
And now Love's power so willingly did bear,
That even his arbitrary reign he praised.
10 Laura, the Duke's fair niece, enthralled his heart,
Who was in court the public morning glass,
Where those, who would reduce nature to art,
Practised by dress the conquests of the face.
11 And here was Hugo, whom Duke Gondibert
For stout and steadfast kindness did approve;
Of stature small, but was all over heart,
And, though unhappy, all that heart was love.
12 In gentle sonnets he for Laura pined,
Soft as the murmurs of a weeping spring,
Which ruthless she did as those murmurs mind:
So, ere their death, sick swans unheeded sing.
13 Yet, whilst she Arnold favoured, he so grieved,
As loyal subjects quietly bemoan
Their yoke, but raise no war to be relieved,
Nor through the envied fav'rite wound the throne.
14 Young Goltho next these rivals we may name,
Whose manhood dawned early as summer light;
As sure and soon did his fair day proclaim,
And was no less the joy of public sight.
15 If love's just power he did not early see,
Some small excuse we may his error give;
Since few, though learn'd, know yet blest love to be
That secret vital heat by which we live:
16 But such it is; and though we may be thought
To have in childhood life, ere love we know,
Yet life is useless till by reason taught,
And love and reason up together grow.
17 Nor more the old show they outlive their love,
If, when their love's decayed, some signs they give
Of life, because we see them pained and move,
Than snakes, long cut, by torment show they live.
18 If we call living, life, when love is gone,
We then to souls, God's coin, vain reverence pay;
Since reason, which is love, and his best known
And current image, age has worn away.
19 And I, that love and reason thus unite,
May, if I old philosophers control,
Confirm the new by some new poet's light,
Who, finding love, thinks he has found the soul.
20 From Goltho, to whom love yet tasteless seemed,
We to ripe Tybalt are by order led;
Tybalt, who love and valour both esteemed,
And he alike from either's wounds had bled.
21 Public his valour was, but not his love,
One filled the world, the other he contained;
Yet quietly alike in both did move,
Of that ne'er boasted, nor of this complained.
22 With these, whose special names verse shall preserve,
Many to this recorded hunting came;
Whose worth authentic mention did deserve,
But from Time's deluge few are saved by Fame.
23 New like a giant lover rose the sun
From the ocean queen, fine in his fires and great;
Seemed all the morn for show, for strength at noon,
As if last night she had not quenched his heat.
24 And the sun's servants, who his rising wait,
His pensioners, for so all lovers are,
And all maintained by him at a high rate
With daily fire, now for the chase prepare.
25 All were, like hunters, clad in cheerful green,
Young Nature's livery, and each at strife
Who most adorned in favours should be seen,
Wrought kindly by the lady of his life.
26 These martial favours on their waists they wear,
On which, for now they conquest celebrate,
In an embroidered history appear
Like life, the vanquished in their fears and fate.
27 And on these belts, wrought with their ladies' care,
Hung cimeters of Akon's trusty steel;
Goodly to see, and he who durst compare
Those ladies' eyes, might soon their temper feel.
28 Cheered as the woods, where new-waked choirs they meet,
Are all; and now dispose their choice relays
Of horse and hounds, each like each other fleet;
Which best, when with themselves compared, we praise.
29 To them old forest spies, the harbourers,
With haste approach, wet as still weeping night,
Or deer that mourn their growth of head with tears,
When the defenceless weight does hinder flight.
30 And dogs, such whose cold secrecy was meant
By Nature for surprise, on these attend;
Wise, temperate lime-hounds that proclaim no scent,
Nor harb'ring will their mouths in boasting spend.
31 Yet vainlier far than traitors boast their prize,
On which their vehemence vast rates does lay,
Since in that worth their treason's credit lies,
These harb'rers praise that which they now betray.
32 Boast they have lodged a stag, that all the race
Outruns of Croton horse, or Rhegian hounds;
A stag made long since royal in the chase,
If kings can honour give by giving wounds.
33 For Aribert had pierced him at a bay,
Yet 'scaped he by the vigour of his head;
And many a summer since has won the day,
And often left his Rhegian followers dead.
34 His spacious beam, that even the rights outgrew,
From antler to his troch had all allowed,
By which his age the aged woodmen knew,
Who more than he were of that beauty proud.
35 Now each relay a several station finds,
Ere the triumphant train the copse surrounds;
Relays of horse, long breathed as winter winds,
And their deep cannon-mouthed experienced hounds.
36 The huntsmen, busily concerned in show,
As if the world were by this beast undone,
And they against him hired as Nature's foe,
In haste uncouple, and their hounds outrun.
37 Now wind they a recheat, the roused deer's knell,
And through the forest all the beasts are awed;
Alarmed by Echo, Nature's sentinel,
Which shows that murderous man is come abroad.
38 Tyrannic man! thy subjects' enemy!
And more through wantonness than need or hate,
From whom the winged to their coverts fly,
And to their dens even those that lay in wait.
39 So this, the most successful of his kind,
Whose forehead's force oft his opposers pressed,
Whose swiftness left pursuers' shafts behind,
Is now of all the forest most distressed!
40 The herd deny him shelter, as if taught
To know their safety is to yield him lost;
Which shows they want not the results of thought,
But speech, by which we ours for reason boast.
41 We blush to see our politics in beasts,
Who many saved by this one sacrifice;
And since through blood they follow interests,
Like us when cruel should be counted wise.
42 His rivals, that his fury used to fear
For his loved female, now his faintness shun;
But were his season hot, and she but near,
(O mighty love!) his hunters were undone.
43 From thence, well blown, he comes to the relay,
Where man's famed reason proves but cowardice,
And only serves him meanly to betray;
Even for the flying, man in ambush lies.
44 But now, as his last remedy to live,
(For every shift for life kind Nature makes,
Since life the utmost is which she can give,)
Cool Adice from the swoln bank he takes.
45 But this fresh bath the dogs will make him leave,
Whom he sure-nosed as fasting tigers found;
Their scent no north-east wind could e'er deceive
Which drives the air, nor flocks that soil the ground.
46 Swift here the fliers and pursuers seem;
The frighted fish swim from their Adice,
The dogs pursue the deer, he the fleet stream,
And that hastes too to the Adriatic sea.
47 Refreshed thus in this fleeting element,
He up the steadfast shore did boldly rise;
And soon escaped their view, but not their scent,
That faithful guide, which even conducts their eyes.
48 This frail relief was like short gales of breath,
Which oft at sea a long dead calm prepare;
Or like our curtains drawn at point of death,
When all our lungs are spent, to give us air.
49 For on the shore the hunters him attend:
And whilst the chase grew warm as is the day,
(Which now from the hot zenith does descend,)
He is embossed, and wearied to a bay.
50 The jewel, life, he must surrender here,
Which the world's mistress, Nature, does not give,
But like dropped favours suffers us to wear,
Such as by which pleased lovers think they live.
51 Yet life he so esteems, that he allows
It all defence his force and rage can make;
And to the eager dogs such fury shows,
As their last blood some unrevenged forsake.
52 But now the monarch murderer comes in,
Destructive man! whom Nature would not arm,
As when in madness mischief is foreseen,
We leave it weaponless for fear of harm.
53 For she defenceless made him, that he might
Less readily offend; but art arms all,
From single strife makes us in numbers fight;
And by such art this royal stag did fall.
54 He weeps till grief does even his murderers pierce;
Grief which so nobly through his anger strove,
That it deserved the dignity of verse,
And had it words, as humanly would move.
55 Thrice from the ground his vanquished head he reared,
And with last looks his forest walks did view;
Where sixty summers he had ruled the herd,
And where sharp dittany now vainly grew:
56 Whose hoary leaves no more his wounds shall heal;
For with a sigh (a blast of all his breath)
That viewless thing, called life, did from him steal,
And with their bugle-horns they wind his death.
57 Then with their annual wanton sacrifice,
Taught by old custom, whose decrees are vain,
And we, like humorous antiquaries, that prize
Age, though deformed, they hasten to the plain.
58 Thence homeward bend as westward as the sun,
Where Gondibert's allies proud feasts prepare,
That day to honour which his grandsire won;
Though feasts the eyes to funerals often are.
59 One from the forest now approached their sight,
Who them did swiftly on the spur pursue;
One there still resident as day and night,
And known as the eldest oak which in it grew:
60 Who, with his utmost breath advancing, cries,
(And such a vehemence no heart could feign,)
'Away! happy the man that fastest flies!
Fly, famous Duke! fly with thy noble train!'
61 The Duke replied: 'Though with thy fears disguised,
Thou dost my sire's old ranger's image bear,
And for thy kindness shalt not be despised;
Though counsels are but weak which come from fear.
62 'Were dangers here, great as thy love can shape,
And love with fear can danger multiply,
Yet when by flight thou bidst us meanly 'scape,
Bid trees take wings, and rooted forests fly.'
63 Then said the ranger: 'You are bravely lost!'
(And like high anger his complexion rose.)
'As little know I fear as how to boast;
But shall attend you through your many foes.
64 'See where in ambush mighty Oswald lay!
And see, from yonder lawn he moves apace,
With lances armed to intercept thy way,
Now thy sure steeds are wearied with the chase.
65 'His purple banners you may there behold,
Which, proudly spread, the fatal raven bear;
And full five hundred I by rank have told,
Who in their gilded helms his colours wear.'
66 The Duke this falling storm does now discern;
Bids little Hugo fly! but 'tis to view
The foe, and timely their first count'nance learn,
Whilst firm he in a square his hunters drew.
67 And Hugo soon, light as his courser's heels,
Was in their faces troublesome as wind;
And like to it so wingedly he wheels,
No one could catch, what all with trouble find.
68 But everywhere the leaders and the led
He temperately observed with a slow sight;
Judged by their looks how hopes and fears were fed,
And by their order their success in fight.
69 Their number, 'mounting to the ranger's guess,
In three divisions evenly was disposed;
And that their enemies might judge it less,
It seemed one gross with all the spaces closed.
70 The van fierce Oswald led, where Paradine
And manly Dargonet, both of his blood,
Outshined the noon, and their minds' stock within
Promised to make that outward glory good.
71 The next, bold, but unlucky Hubert led,
Brother to Oswald, and no less allied
To the ambitions which his soul did wed;
Lowly without, but lined with costly pride.
72 Most to himself his valour fatal was,
Whose glories oft to others dreadful were;
So comets, though supposed destruction's cause,
But waste themselves to make their gazers fear.
73 And though his valour seldom did succeed,
His speech was such as could in storms persuade;
Sweet as the hopes on which starved lovers feed,
Breathed in the whispers of a yielding maid.
74 The bloody Borgio did conduct the rear,
Whom sullen Vasco heedfully attends;
To all but to themselves they cruel were,
And to themselves chiefly by mischief friends.
75 War, the world's art, nature to them became;
In camps begot, born, and in anger bred;
The living vexed till death, and then their fame,
Because even fame some life is to the dead.
76 Cities, wise statesmen's folds for civil sheep,
They sacked, as painful shearers of the wise;
For they like careful wolves would lose their sleep,
When others' prosperous toils might be their prize.
77 Hugo amongst these troops spied many more,
Who had, as brave destroyers, got renown;
And many forward wounds in boast they wore,
Which, if not well revenged, had ne'er been shown.
78 Such the bold leaders of these lancers were,
Which of the Brescian veterans did consist;
Whose practised age might charge of armies bear,
And claim some rank in Fame's eternal list.
79 Back to his Duke the dexterous Hugo flies,
What he observed he cheerfully declares;
With noble pride did what he liked despise;
For wounds he threatened whilst he praised their scars.
80 Lord Arnold cried, 'Vain is the bugle-horn,
Where trumpets men to manly work invite!
That distant summons seems to say, in scorn,
We hunters may be hunted hard ere night.'
81 'Those beasts are hunted hard that hard can fly,'
Replied aloud the noble Hurgonil;
'But we, not used to flight, know best to die;
And those who know to die, know how to kill.
82 'Victors through number never gained applause;
If they exceed our count in arms and men,
It is not just to think that odds, because
One lover equals any other ten.'