Part 21

The good Lady hauing red the Letter, was so astonned, as hir words for a long space staied within hir mouth; hir heart panted, and spirite was full of confusion, hir minde was filled with sorrow to consider the anguishes of the poore vagabound, and foster Hermit. In the ende before the houshold dissembling hir passion which mooued hir sense, she tooke her Daughter a side, whom very sharply she rebuked, for that she was the cause of the losse of so notable and perfect a Knight as Dom Diego was. Then she red the Letter vnto hir, and as all hir eloquence was not able to moue that cruel damsell, more venemous than a Serpent agaynst the knight, who (as she thought) had not indured the one halfe of that which his inconstancy and lightnesse had wel deserued, whose obstinate minde the mother perceyuinge, sayde vnto hir: "I pray to God (deare daughter) that for your frowardnesse, you bee not blinded in your beauty, and for refusall of so great a benefit as is the alliaunce of Dom Diego, you be not abused with sutch a one as shall dimme the light of your renoume and glory, which hitherto you haue gayned amongs the sobrest and modest maydens." Hauing sayd so, the wyse and sage widow, went to the seruaunt of Dom Diego, of whom she demaunded what day his mayster departed, which she knowing, and not ignoraunt of the occasion, was more wroth than before: notwithstanding she dissembled what she thought, and sending backe his seruant, she required him to do hir hearty commendations to the Lady his mistresse, which he did. The good Lady was ioyfull of them not knowing the contents of her sonne's letters, but looked rather that he had sent word vnto his lady of the iust hour of his returne. Howbeit when she saw that in the space of 20 dayes, nor yet within a moneth he came not, shee could not tell what to thinke, so dolorous was she for the absence of hir sonne. The time passinge without hearing any newes from him she began to torment hirselfe, and be so pensiue, as if she had heard certayne newes of his death. "Alas," (quod she) "and wherefore haue the heauens giuen me the possession of sutch an exquisite fruict, to depriue mee thereof before I do partake the goodnesse, and swetenes therof, and before I do enioy the grifts proceding from so goodly a stock. Ah God, I fear that my immoderate loue is the occasion of the losse of my sonne, and the whole ruine of the mother, with the demolition and wast of al our goods. And I would that it had pleased God (my Son) the hunter's game had neuer bene so deere, for thinking to catch that pray thou thy selfe wast taken and thou wandring for thy better disport, missing the right way, so strangely didst straggle, that hard it is to reduce thee into the right track agayne. At least wise if I knew the place, whereunto thou arte repaired to finde againe thy losse, I would trauell thither to beare the company, rather than to lyue heere voyde of a Husbande, betrayed by them whom I best trusted and bereft from the presence of the my Sonne, the Staffe and onely comfort of myne olde age, and the certayne hope of all our House and Family." Now if the Mother vexed hir selfe, the Sonne was eased with no great reioyce, being now a free cittizen with the Beasts, and Foules of the Forrests, Dennes, and Caues, leauing not the Profundity of the Woods, the Craggednes of the Rocks, or beauty of the Valley, without some signe or token of his griefe. Sometime with a Puncheon wel sharpned, seruing him in steede of a Penknife, he graued the successe of his loue vpon an hard stone. Other times the softe Bark of some tender and new growen spray serued him in steede of Paper, or Parchment. For there he carued in Cyphres properly combined with a Knot (not easily to be knowne) the name of his Lady, interlaced so properly with his owne, that the finest heads might bee deceyued, to Disciphre the righte interpretation. Vpon a day then, as he passed his time (accordinge to his custome) to muse vpon Myssehaps, and to frame his successe of loue in the Ayre, hee Ingraued these Verses vpon a Stone by a Fountayne side, adioyning to his rude and Sauage house.

If any Forrest Pan, doth haunt here in this place, Or wandring Nymphe, hath hard my wofull playnt: The one may well beholde, and view what drop of grace, I haue deseru'de, and eke what griefes my heart do taynt, The other lend to me some broke, or showre of rayne To moyst myne heart and eyes, the gutters of my brayne.

Somewhat further of many times at the rising of the Sunne, he mounted the Top of an high and greene Mountayne to solace himselfe vpon the freshe and greene grasse, where four Pillers were erected, (eyther naturally done by dame Nature, or wrought by the industry of man,) which bore a stone in forme four square, well hewed, made and trimmed in maner of an Aulter, vpon which Aulter he dedicated these verses to the Posterity.

Vpon this holy squared stone, which Aulter men doe call, To some one of the Gods aboue that consecrated is, This dolefull verse I do ingraue, in token of my thrall, And deadly griefes that do my silly heart oppresse, And vex with endelesse paynes, which neuer quiet is, This wofull verse (I say) as surest gage of my distresse, I fixe on Aulter stone for euer to remayne, To shew the heart of truest wight, that euer liued in payne.

And vpon the brims of that Table, he carued these Wordes:

This Mason worke erected here, shall not so long abide, As shall the common name of two, that now vncoupled bee, Who after froward fortune past, knit eche in one degree, Shall render for right earnest loue, reward on either side.

And before his Lodging in that wilde and stony Forrest vpon the Barke of a lofty Beeche Tree, feeling in himselfe an unaccustomed lustinesse, thus he wrote:

Th'encreasing beauty of thy shape, extending far thy name, By like increase I hope to see, so stretched forth my fame.

His man seeing him to begin to be merily disposed, one day said vnto him: "And wherefore sir serueth the Lute, which I brought amongs our Males, if you do not assay thereby to recreate youre selfe, and sing thereupon the prayses of hir whom you loue so wel: yea and if I may so say, by worshipping hir, you do commit idolatry in your minde. Is it not your pleasure that I fetche the same vnto you, that by immitation of Orpheus, you may mooue the Trees, Rocks, and wylde Beastes to bewayle your misfortune, and witnesse the penaunce that you doe for hir sake, without cause of so haynous punishment:" "I see well," (quod the knight) "that thou wouldest I should be mery, but mirth is so far from me, as I am estraunged from hir that holdeth me in this misery. Notwithstanding I will performe thy request, and will awake that instrument in this desert place, wherewith sometime I witnessed the greatest part of my passions." Then the knight receyuing the Lute sounded thereupon this song ensuing.

The waues and troubled scum, that mooues the Seas alofte, Which runs and roares against the rocks, and threatneth daungers oft Resembleth lo the fits of loue, That dayly do my fansie moue.

My heart it is the ship, that driues on salt Sea fome, And reason sayles with senselesse wit, and neuer loketh home, For loue is guide, and leades the daunce, That brings good hap, or breedes mischaunce.

The furious flames of loue, that neuer ceaseth sure, Are loe the busie sailes and oares, that would my rest procure, And as in Skies, great windes do blo, My swift desires runnes, fleeting so.

As sweete Zephyrus breath, in spring time feedes the floures, My mistresse voice would ioye my wits, by hir most heauenly powers, And would exchaunge my state I say, As Sommer chaungeth Winter's day.

She is the Artique starre, the gratious Goddesse to, She hath the might to make and marre, to helpe or els vndo, Both death and life she hath at call, My warre, my peace, my ruine and all.

She makes me liue in woe, and guides my sighs and lookes, She holds my fredome by a lace, as fish is held with hookes, Thus by despayre in this conceite, I swallow vp both hooke and baite.

And in the deserts loe I liue, among the sauage kinde, And spend my time in wofull sighs, rays'd vp by care of minde, All hopelesse to in paynes I pyne, And ioyes for euer doe resigne.

I dread but Charon's boat if she no mercy giue, In darknesse then my soule shall dwell, in Pluto's raygne to liue, But I beleue she hath no care, On him that caught is in hir snare.

If she release my woe, a thousand thankes therefore, I shall hir giue, and make the world to honor hir the more, The Gods in Skies will prayse the same, And recorde beare of hir good name.

O happy is that life, that after torment straunge, And earthly sorows on this mould, for better life shal chaunge And liue amongs the Gods on high, Where loue and Louers neuer die.

O lyfe that here I leade, I freely giue thee now, Vnto the fayre where ere she rests, and loke thou shew hir how I linger forth my yeares and dayes, To win of hir a crowne of prayse.

And thou my pleasaunt Lute, cease not my songs to sound, And shew the torments of my minde, that I through loue haue found, And alwayes tell my Mistresse still, Hir worthy vertues rules my will.

The Foster Louer.

The Foster louer singing this song, sighing sundry tymes betwene, the tricling teares ranne downe his Face: which thereby was so disfigured, as scarse could any man haue knowne him, that al the dayes of their lyfe had frequented his company. Sutch was the state of this myserable yong gentleman, who dronke with hys owne Wyne, balanced himselfe downe to despayre rather than to the hope of that which he durst not looke for. Howbeit like as the mischiefs of men be not alwayes durable, and that all thinges haue their proper season, euen so Fortune repentinge hir euill intreaty which wrongfully shee had caused this poore penetenciary of Gineura to endure, prepared a meanes to readuaunce him aloft vppon hir Wheele, euen when he thought least of it. And certes, herein appeared the mercy of God, who causeth things difficult and almost impossible, to be so easy, as those that ordinarily be brought to passe. How may this example show how they which be plunged in the bottome of defiaunce, deeming their life vtterly forlorne, be soone exalted euen to the top of all glory, and felicity? Hath not our age seene a man whych was by aucthority of his Enimy iudged to dye, ready to bee caried forth to the Scaffolde miraculously deliuered from that daunger, and (wherein the works of God are to be marueyled) the same man to be called to the dignity of a Prynce, and preferred aboue all the rest of the people? Now Dom Diego attending his fieldish Philosophy in the solitary valeys of the riche Mountayne Pyrene, was rescowed with an helpe vnlooked for as you shall heare. You haue hard how hee had a Neyghbour and singuler Frend a Noble Gentleman named Dom Roderico. Thys Gentleman amongs all his faithfull Companions did most lament the harde fortune of Dom Diego. It came to passe that 22 moneths after that the poore Wilde penitent person was gonne on Pilgrimage, Dom Roderico tooke his Iourney into Gascoyne for diuers his vrgent Affayres, which after hee had dispatched, were it that hee was gon out of his way, or that GOD (as it is most likely) did driue him thither, he approched towarde that Coaste of the Pyrene Mountaynes, where that tyme his good Frende Dom Diego did Inhabite, who dayly grew so Weake and Feeble, as if God had not sent him sodayne succour hee had gotten that hee most desired, which was death that should haue bene the ende of his trauayles and Afflictions. The trayne of Dom Roderico being then a bowe shot of from the sauage Caben of Dom Diego, espyed the tractes of mens Feete newly troden, and beganne to maruayle what hee should bee that dwelled there, considering the Solitude, and Infertility of the Place, and also that the same was farre of from Towne or House. And as they deuised hereupon, they saw a man going into a Caue, which was Dom Diego, comming from making his complayntes vppon the Rock spoken of before. From which hauinge turned his face toward that parte of the worlde where he thought the lodging was of that Saynct, whereunto he addressed his deuotions, Dom Diego hearinge the Noyse of the horsse, was retired because hee woulde not bee seene. The knight which rode that way, seeing that, and knowing how far he was oute of the way, commaunded one of his men to Gallop towardes the Rocke, to learne what people they were that dwelled within, and to demaund how they might coaste to the high way that led to Barcelona. The Seruaunt approching neare the Caue, perceiued the same so well Empaled and Fortified with Beasts skins before, fearing also that they were Theeues and Robbers that dwelled there, durst not approche, and lesse enquire the way, and therefore returned towards his mayster, to whom hee tolde what hee saw. The knight of another maner of Metall and hardinesse than that Rascall and coward seruaunt, like a stout, Couragious, and valiaunt Man, poasted to the Caue, and demaundinge who was within, he saw a man come forth so disfigured, horrible to looke vppon, pale with staring hayre vpright, as pitifull it was to behold him, which was the seruant of the foster Hermit. Of him Roderico demaunded what he was, and which was the way to Barcelone. "Syr," aunswered that disguised person: "I know not how to aunswere your demaund, and mutch lesse I know the country where we now presently be. But sir, (sayde he sighing) true it is that we be two poore companions whom Fortune hath sent hither, by what il aduenture I know not, to do penaunce for our Trespasses, and Offences." Roderico hearing him say so, began to call to his remembraunce his Freende Dom Diego, although he neuer before that tyme suspected the place of his abode. He lighted then from his horsse, desirous to see the singularities of the Rocke, and the magnificence of the Cauish lodging, where hee entred and sawe him whom he sought for, and yet for all that did not know him: He commoned with him a long tyme of the pleasure of the solitary life in respect of theym that liued intangled with the combersome Follies of this World. "For somutch" (quod he) as the spirite distracted and withdrawen from Worldly troubles is eleuate to the contemplation of heauenly thinges, and sooner attendeth to the knowledge and reuerence of his God, than those that bee conuersaunt amongs men, and to conclude, the complaynts, the delights, ambitions, couetousnesse, vanities, and superfluities that abounde in the confused Maze of Worldely troupe, doe cause a misknowledge of our selues, a forgetfulnesse of our Creator, and many times a negligence of piety and purenesse of Religion. Whiles the vnknowne Hermit, and the knight Roderico talked of these thinges, the Seruauntes of Roderico visiting all the Corners of the deepe, and Stony Cell of those Penitents, by Fortune espied two Saddles, one of theym rychely wroughte and Armed wyth Plates of Steele, that had bene made for some goodly Ienet. And vppon the Plate well Wroughte, Grauen and Enameled, the Golde for all the Rust cankering the Plate, did yet appear. For whych Purpose one of theym sayde to the seruaunt of Dom Diego: "Good Father hitherto I see neyther Mule, nor Horsse, for whom these Saddles can serue, I pray thee to sell them vnto vs, for they will doe vs more pleasure, than presently they do you." "Maisters (quod the Hermit,) if they like you, they be at your commaundement." In the meane time Roderico hauing ended his talke with the other Hermit, without knowing of any thinge that he desired, sayd vnto his men: "Now sirs to horse, and leaue wee theese poore people to rest in peace, and let vs goe seeke for the right way which we so well as they haue lost." "Syr," (quod one of his men,) "there be two Saddles, and one of them is so exceeding fayre, so well garnished and wrought as euer you saw." The knight feeling in himselfe an vnaccustomed motion, caused them to be brought before him, and as he viewed and marked the riche Harnesse, and Trappings of the same, he stayeth to looke vppon the Hinder parte minionly wrought, and in the middest of the engrauing he red this deuise in the Spanish Tongue.

_Que brantare la fe, es causa muy fea._

That is, To violate or breake fayth, is a thing detestable.