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.