Great is the joy that no tongue can express!
Fair babe new born, how much dost thou delight me!
But what, is mine so great? Yea, no whit less!
So great that of all woes it doth acquite me.
It's fair Fidessa that this comfort bringeth,
Who sorry for the wrongs by her procured,
Delightful tunes of love, of true love singeth,
Wherewith her too chaste thoughts were ne'er inured.
She loves, she saith, but with a love not blind.
Her love is counsel that I should not love,
But upon virtues fix a stayèd mind.
But what! This new-coined love, love doth reprove?
If this be love of which you make such store,
Sweet, love me less, that you may love me more!
XXI
He that will Cæsar be, or else not be—
Who can aspire to Cæsar's bleeding fame,
Must be of high resolve; but what is he
That thinks to gain a second Cæsar's name?
Whoe'er he be that climbs above his strength,
And climbeth high, the greater is his fall!
For though he sit awhile, we see at length,
His slippery place no firmness hath at all,
Great is his bruise that falleth from on high.
This warneth me that I should not aspire;
Examples should prevail; I care not, I!
I perish must or have what I desire!
This humour doth with mine full well agree
I must Fidessa's be, or else not be!
XXII
It was of love, ungentle gentle boy!
That thou didst come and harbour in my breast;
Not of intent my body to destroy,
And have my soul, with restless cares opprest.
But sith thy love doth turn unto my pain,
Return to Greece, sweet lad, where thou wast born.
Leave me alone my griefs to entertain,
If thou forsake me, I am less forlorn;
Although alone, yet shall I find more ease.
Then see thou hie thee hence, or I will chase thee;
Men highly wrongèd care not to displease;
My fortune hangs on thee, thou dost disgrace me,
Yet at thy farewell, play a friendly part;
To make amends, fly to Fidessa's heart.
XXIII
Fly to her heart, hover about her heart,
With dainty kisses mollify her heart,
Pierce with thy arrows her obdurate heart,
With sweet allurements ever move her heart,
At midday and at midnight touch her heart,
Be lurking closely, nestle about her heart,
With power—thou art a god!—command her heart,
Kindle thy coals of love about her heart,
Yea, even into thyself transform her heart!
Ah, she must love! Be sure thou have her heart;
And I must die if thou have not her heart;
Thy bed if thou rest well, must be her heart;
He hath the best part sure that hath her heart;
What have I not, if I have but her heart!
XXIV
Striving is past! Ah, I must sink and drown,
And that in sight of long descrièd shore!
I cannot send for aid unto the town,
All help is vain and I must die therefore.
Then poor distressèd caitiff, be resolved
To leave this earthly dwelling fraught with care;
Cease will thy woes, thy corpse in earth involved,
Thou diest for her that will no help prepare.
O see, my case herself doth now behold;
The casement open is; she seems to speak;—
But she has gone! O then I dare be bold
And needs must say she caused my heart to break.
I die before I drown, O heavy case!
It was because I saw my mistress' face.
XXV