And of her shame to make a gamesome jest;
But gan examine him in straiter sort,
Which of her nymphs, or other close consort,1
Him thither brought, and her to him betray'd,
He, much affear'd, to her confessed short
That 't was Molanna which her so bewray'd.
Then all at once their hands upon Mollana laid.
But him (according as they had decreed)
With a deer's skin they covered, and then chas'd
With all their hounds that after him did speed;
But he, more speedy, from them fled more fast
Than any deer; so sore him dread aghast.2
They after follow'd all with shrill outcry,
Shouting as they the heavens would have brast;
That all the woods and dales, where he did fly,
Did ring again, and loud re-echo to the sky.
So they him follow'd till they weary were;
When, back returning to Molann' again,
They, by commandment of Diana, there
Her whelm'd with stones: yet Faunus, for her
Of her beloved Fanchin did obtain,
That her he would receive unto his bed.
So now her waves pass through a pleasant plain,
Till with the Fanchin she herself do wed,
And, both combin'd, themselves in one fair river
Nath'less Diana, full of indignatíon,
Thenceforth abandon'd her delicious brook;
In whose sweet stream, before that bad occasion,
So much delight to bathe her limbs she took:
Ne only her, but also quite forsook
All those fair forests about Arlo hid;
And all that mountain, which doth overlook
The richest champaign that may else be rid;1
And the fair Shure, in which are thousand salmons
bred.
Them all, and all that she so dear did weigh,2
Thenceforth she left; and, parting from the place,
Thereon an heavy hapless curse did lay;
To wit, that wolves, where she was wont to space, Should harbour'd be and all those woods deface, And thieves should rob and spoil that coast around. Since which, those woods, and all that goodly chase, Doth to this day with wolves and thieves abound: Which too too true that land's indwellers since have found!
AH! whither dost thou now, thou greater Muse,6
Me from these woods and pleasing forests bring?
And my frail spirit, that doth oft refuse
This too high flight unfit for her weak wing,
Lift up aloft, to tell of heaven's king
(Thy sov'reign sire) his fortunate success;
And victory in bigger notes to sing,
Which he obtain'd against that Titaness,
That him of heaven's empire sought to dispossess?
Yet, sith I needs must follow thy behest,
Do thou my weaker wit with skill inspire,
Fit for this turn; and in my sable1 breast
Kindle fresh sparks of that immortal fire
Which learned minds inflameth with desire
Of heavenly things: for who, but thou alone
That art yborn of heav'n and heav'nly sire,
Can tell things done in heav'n so long ygone,
So far past memory of man that may be known?
Now, at the time that was before agreed,
The gods assembled all on Arlo Hill;
As well those that are sprung of heav'nly seed,
As those that all the other world do fill,
And rule both sea and land unto their will:
Only th' infernal powers might not appear;
As well for horror of their count'nance ill,
As for th' unruly fiends which they did fear;
Yet Pluto and Prosérpina were present there.
And thither also came all other creatures,
Whatever life or motion do retain,
According to their sundry kinds of features,
That Arlo scarcely could them all contain;
So full they filled every hill and plain:
And had not Nature's Sergeant (that is Order)
Them well disposéd by his busy pain,
And rangéd far abroad in every border,
They would have causéd much confusion and disorder.
Then forth issú'd (great goddess) great Dame
With goodly port and gracious majesty, [Nature
Being far greater and more tall of stature
Than any of the gods or powers on high;
Yet certes by her face and physnomy,1
Whether she man or woman inly were,
That could not any creature well descry;
For, with a veil that wimpled every where,
Her head and face was hid that might to none appear.
That, some do say, was so by skill devis'd,
To hide the terror of her uncouth hue
From mortal eyes that should be sore agriz'd;2
For that her face did like a lion shew,
That eye of wight could not endure to view:
But others tell that it so beauteous was,
And round about such beams of splendour threw,
That it the sun a thousand times did pass,
Ne could be seen but like an image in a glass.
That well may seemen true; for well I ween
That this same day, when she on Arlo sat,
Her garment was so bright and wondrous sheen, Shining. That my frail wit cannot devise to what
It to compare, nor find like stuff to that:
As those three sacred saints, though else most wise, Yet on Mount Tabor quite their wits forgat, When they their glorious Lord in strange disguise Transfigur'd saw; his garments so did daze1 their
In a fair plain upon an equal hill
She placed was in a pavilion;
Not such as craftsmen by their idle skill
Are wont for princes' states to fashion;
But th' Earth herself, of her own motion,
Out of her fruitful bosom made to grow
Most dainty trees, that, shooting up anon,
Did seem to bow their blooming heads full low For homage unto her, and like a throne did shew.
So hard it is for any living wight
All her array and vestiments to tell,
That old Dan Geffrey* (in whose gentle sprite
The pure well-head of pocsy did dwell)
In his Fowls' Parley durst not with it mell,1
But it transferr'd to Alane,+ who he thought
Had in his Plaint of Kinds describ'd it well:
Which who will read set forth so as it ought,
Go seek he out that Alane where he may be sought.
And all the earth far underneath her feet
Was dight2 with flow'rs, that voluntary grew
Out of the ground, and sent forth odours sweet;
Ten thousand mores of sundry scent and hue,
That might delight the smell, or please the view,
The which the nymphs from all the brooks thereby
Had gathered, they at her foot-stool threw;
That richer seem'd than any tapestry,
That princes' bow'rs adorn with painted imag'ry.
And Mole himself, to honour her the more,
Did deck himself in freshest fair attire;
And his high head, that seemeth always hoar
With harden'd frosts of former winters' ire,
He with an oaken garland now did tire,*
* 'Dan Geffrey:' Chaucer, and his Assembly of Fowls.'
+Alane:' the lines in Chaucer are,
'And right as Alane, in the "Plaint of Kind,"
Deviseth Nature of such array and face,
In such array, men might her there find.'
Alanus, or Alane, was a poet of the twelfth century, who wrote a work called De Planctu Naturæ,' which Chaucer translates the Plaint of Kind.'
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