V.
Then did I see a Bridge, made all of golde,
Over the sea from one to other side,
Withouten prop or pillour it t’upholde,
But like the coloured rainbowe arched wide: 550
Not that great arche which Traian edifide,
To be a wonder to all age ensuing,
Was matchable to this in equall vewing.
But ah! what bootes it to see earthlie thing
In glorie or in greatnes to excell, 555
Sith time doth greatest things to ruine bring?
This goodlie bridge, one foote not fastned well,
Gan faile, and all the rest downe shortlie fell,
Ne of so brave a building ought remained,
That griefe thereof my spirite greatly pained. 560
VI.
I saw two Beares, as white as anie milke,
Lying together in a mightie cave,
Of milde aspect, and haire as soft as silke,
That salvage nature seemed not to have,
Nor after greedie spoyle of blood to crave: 565
Two fairer beasts might not elswhere be found,
Although the compast* world were sought around.
[* Compast, rounded.]
But what can long abide above this ground
In state of blis, or stedfast happinesse?
The cave in which these beares lay sleeping sound
Was but earth, and with her owne weightinesse 571
Upon them fell, and did unwares oppresse;
That, for great sorrow of their sudden fate,
Henceforth all worlds felicitie I hate.
Much was I troubled in my heavie spright, 575
At sight of these sad spectacles forepast,
That all my senses were bereaved quight,
And I in minde remained sore agast,
Distraught twixt feare and pitie; when at last
I heard a voyce which loudly to me called, 580
That with the suddein shrill I was appalled.
“Behold,” said it, “and by ensample see,
That all is vanitie and griefe of minde,
Ne other comfort in this world can be,
But hope of heaven, and heart to God inclinde; 585
For all the rest must needs be left behinde.”
With that it bad me to the other side
To cast mine eye, where other sights I spide.
I.
Upon that famous rivers further shore,
There stood a snowie Swan, of heavenly hiew 590
And gentle kinde as ever fowle afore;
A fairer one in all the goodlie criew
Of white Strimonian brood might no man view:
There he most sweetly sung the prophecie
Of his owne death in dolefull elegie. 595