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THE ROMANCE OF THE ROSE 229 Nero, of whom I lately spake, And whose mere frown sufficed to shake The world, o'er which he held such sway As never tyrant till his day Had known, had yet no power to check Fortune, but bowed before her beck, If history lie not, for 'tis said Most wretchedly he perished. So did he fire the people's hate, That rose they all infuriate Against this monster. Then he sent Envoys to all his friends, intent To save his worthless life, but not A single man he found, I wot, To give him refuge. Then while rocked His craven heart with fear, he knocked With frantic strokes at many a portal, But, to his thundering, not a mortal Replied and he aback returned, While helpless rage his vitals burned." 230 THE ROMANCE OF THE ROSE XLI This tells how Nero sought to hide Within a garden, where he died, Self-slain. Thus, coward-like, life's stage He fled, nor dared the people's rage. "THEN ran he swift to hide his head In flower-grown close, and with him fled Two faithful slaves, but all around He heard the fearful surging sound Of maddening voices, which: 'Nero,' Cried loudly, 'thou to hell shalt go; Where skulk'st thou?' And he, terrified, Beheld that vain it was to hide, Yet knew not how to go or stay So he might 'scape the dread affray. And compassing his fearsome case, Despaired he of all hope of grace, And 'mandment gave his slaves to kill Their master, and when nought fulfil Would they his hest, the wretched elf Fell on his sword and slew himself Outright, but ere death came he gave His servants bidding they should shave His head from off his trunk, that none Might know 'twas he, and, that stroke done, They should his corse without delay Burn on a pyre to ashes grey. This may be read by him who dives Among old parchments in the lives Of those twelve Caesars, which were writ By Suetonius, who doth twit THE ROMANCE OF THE ROSE 231 The law of Christ as tale absurd (This is the wretched caitiff's word) And mischievous. Alas! the day, That mouth of man such words should say! With Nero perished out the line Of Caesar, and, as I opine, This monster so was void of grace Or virtue, that 'twere meet his race Should fall extinct. He nobly reigned Five years before with crime he stained His annals, and no prince e'er gave A fairer promise by his grave And loyal rule; so good at first Appeared this felon-king accurst, That once in audience given at Rome, When some poor caitiff that home Whence none return he should consign, He cried: 'O evil fate is mine That e'er my hand hath learned to write.' This monster stood upon the height Of empire more than sixteen years, Deceiving hopes, fulfilling fears, And for his whole life thirty-two Years good and evil lived he through. But, stirred to felony by pride, So grievously he turned aside From virtue, that he lastly fell From highest grace to lowest hell Of crime and sin, as thou hast heard, And Fortune's freak it was preferred Him thus on high, that she might show Her power to raise and overthrow. 232 THE ROMANCE OF THE ROSE Neither could Croesus, Lydia's king, And mighty conqueror, 'scape the sting Of Fortune. On the burning pyre He stood and round him leapt the fire, When suddenly the lowering sky Disburdened it so copiously That died the flames; his foes dismayed Thereat took flight, nor long time stayed King Croesus, but escaped his bane. Then ruled he o'er his land again But yet, once more by Fortune flung In durance, was he lastly hung But ere that happed this vision dreamed High on a beech tree's top he seemed, Where mighty Jupiter had set Himself to wash him: when all wet By Jove's hands made, his glorious son, Phoebus, with towel, had begun To dry his skin. Alas! too true That dreaming proved he thereby grew To hateful pride and foolishness, And then succumbed to sore distress. Though when to Phanie fair, his child, He told this dream so strange and wild, She strove to tear from off his eyes The veil, for she was passing wise To pierce the visions of the night, And show their truth in morning light." THE ROMANCE OF THE ROSE 233 XLII This tells how Phanie to the king Gave warning that his pride would bring Him shameful death. The dream but sung His knell, when he on gallows hung. "FAIR father,' quoth the damosel, This dream but rings your passing bell I count your pride not worth a cock; The jade hight Fortune doth but mock And jeer at you; by this portent I clearly read that she is bent That you, ere long, on gallows tree Shall perish; and while mournfully, The sport of winds, it swings in air, Heaven's rain upon your body bare Shall beat, and then the scorching sun Shall dry it. So doth Fortune run Against you. She but gives and takes As pleaseth her; one while she makes The highest nought, and then amain The pauper setteth up again In wealth or splendour. Why should I Betray your heart with flattery? Fortune hath ruthlessly assigned You to the gibbet, and will bind The halter close about your neck, And that gold crown that now doth deck Your well-loved head will she uplift Therefrom, and then as royal gift 234 THE ROMANCE OF THE ROSE Bestow it where you dream not. Hear, While yet I make my rede more clear: God Jupiter, who you did wash, Is air and cloud, whose rains shall lash Your corpse; and Phoebus, who bedried Your body, clearly typified The sun; the high beech tree, What should it but the gallows be? This cruel path you needs must tread, Dear father; on your glorious head Will Fortune wreak her wrath as one Whose arrogant pride hath vengeance won: No man, whate'er his dignity, More than an apple counteth she. High loyalty or treachery base, Lordly estate or pauper case, Are one to her. As shuttlecock Which playful damsels lightly knock Hither and thither, so doth she Toss gifts and favours recklessly, Without a thought whereso they fall, On mansion proud or cobbler's stall. For good or bad hath she no care, All, all alike her giftings share; She valueth none above a pea, Saving her child Nobility, Misfortune's cousin, and her friend, Who doth in Fortune's balance pend. But Fortune, though she take away Nobility from whom she may, Will deal it forth to none except Such as through every change have kept THE ROMANCE OF THE ROSE 235 Them pure in heart and courteous, Upright, and good, and generous. For never yet was man so bold In field, but, if he chanced to hold In heart some baseness, then would flee Far from him fair Nobility. Nobility I greatly prize, Because mean spirits in her eyes Are hateful, and I meekly pray, Dear father, that you cast away All proud and villain thought, and reign The good man's prop, the bad man's bane. Make your dear heart the dwelling-place Of gentle love and tender grace For ill poor folk; 'tis well a king The portals of his heart should fling Wide open. O my father, deign To list my speech, you then shall gain The people's love; that lacking, poor Is greatest king as rudest boor.' O Phanie, precious words were these, But never fool his folly sees In other light than worthiest sense, Wisdom he hears, but learns nought thence. Thus Croesus' heart was obdurate, And sternly scorned he to abate His pride; if herein wise was he, Or foolish, that ere long shalt see. 236 THE ROMANCE OF THE ROSE Croesus makes answer to Phanie. "My daughter, neither courtesy Nor sense you show herein,' quoth he; 'Much better versed am I than you In what the Gods propose to do; You do but treat me to a lie, Interpreting most shamefully This riddle hid within my dream: Your gloss approacheth the extreme Of witlessness: my dream will be Fulfilled, I doubt not, literally: Sure ne'er before did prophet dare To shadow forth for dream so fair Such vile fulfillment. Yet will come The Gods from out their sky-built home, To work the end that they in sleep Foretold to me, and I shall reap, Dear child, from them such high reward As they to those they love accord, For well have I deserved of them.' Reason. "Alas! the boastful apothegm! Fortune laid hand on him and gave His body wastefully to wave In wind and storm on gibbet hung, And last be o'er the desert flung. Doth this not plainly demonstrate No man can cause her wheel to wait THE ROMANCE OF THE ROSE 237 Or stay its course, and thus be able, Honour attained, to keep him stable? And dost thou aught of logic know (Which falsity from truth doth show), Thou'lt see, where great and strong men fall, For poor and weak, the chance how small! But if examples thou shouldst scorn From old authentic writings torn, Then is it well that thou shouldst learn That if thou wilt, thou need'st but turn For good examples which have been Before the eyes of all men seen, Writ large for us in later days, Of turmoils, battles, and affrays. In Sicily we first may see Lord Manfred, who by treachery Long time unchallenged kept the land, Till Charles of Anjou's mighty hand O'ercame him, and there reigns to-day, Where no man dares dispute his sway. Him thou mayst better know perchance As Count of Anjou and Provence, And who by providence of God Is lord of Sicily's fair sod. This good King Charles from Manfred took His kingdom not alone, but strook The life from him; when he, with sword Fine tempered, on the battle sward Where first they met assailed him, high On towering war-horse mounted: 'Die,' He cried, 'shalt thou, for check and mate I give thee,' but soon met his fate, 238 THE ROMANCE OF THE ROSE Amid his goodly company, By arrow-stroke, death pierced, fell he. It scarcely needs my page to blot By telling of the woeful lot Of Conradin, whom Charles decreed To death, although for him did plead The German princes; or how fell Henry, the prince of Spain as well, In prison slain, as guerdon good For one whose treason shamed manhood. These two rash, foolish men, I ween, Lost knights and rooks, and pawns and queen, Till, seeing all against them scored, They fled and left swept clear, the board. Great fear they had lest round them spun Should be the web they had begun, Yet ne'er need they have been afraid Lest they should see check-mate arrayed Against them, since devoid of king They fought, their foes could nowise bring Those into check with whom they played, Since first this noble game was made, For never men at chess can fight (How great soe'er the power they dight) With check 'gainst those who fight afoot, The pawn, or rook, or fool to boot, Nor queen or knight, nor all the hoard Of commoners who fill the board. For of a truth I dare to state What meaneth that men call 'a mate'; The king it is to whom we give 'Check,' when his men have ceased to live, THE ROMANCE OF THE ROSE 239 Or captive stand, and none he sees Around him save his enemies, And thus doth he in check remain, Escape debarred, resistance vain. And thus saith Attalus the wise, Who did the game of chess devise With worthy wit; its subtle trick He found when deep arithmetic He taught, and Polycraticus, Of John of Sarum, showeth us How he the intricate movements set, Wherewith the game is played e'en yet. From off the field these leaguers cleared, Since to be captive ta'en they feared Most bitterly. What say I then? They feared captivity, these men? Nay, but far worse; fierce death they fled, Which nevertheless they sufferèd, For in this wretched game had they With impious daring played their play. Despising faith, estranged from God, They madly his chastising rod Had bared their backs to; Holy Church They braved, and found them left a-lurch. And if their fortunes lay in wreck, And on them cried their foes 'a check!' What wonder? Who would cover them, Or who their tide of misery stem? For when the onset came their queen They lost, as well might be foreseen, And then this worthless, foolish king Lost rooks, knights, pawns, and everything. 240 THE ROMANCE OF THE ROSE Forsooth she nought was present there But worn with grief, and wan with care Could not defend herself nor flee, Hearing how Manfred wretchedly Lay dead and cold, head, hands, and feet. And when these tidings men repeat To good King Charles, how both these men Like caitiffs fled the combat, then On both he freely worked his will, Giving command to slay and kill Them and their fellows who had stood To aid their impious hardihood. This noble prince, whose deeds I sing, Of many a tale hath been the spring. May God preserve both night and day His body, soul, and heirs I pray, And grant such wisdom as ne'er falls: The pride he conquered of Marseilles, Whose rebel burghers' heads lopped he Ere yet high rule in Sicily To him was given, where he as king Was crowned, and vicar ministering For all the Empire: but to write His deeds at full must one indite A ponderous tome. See what became Of all these favourites of fame And Fortune. Doth she not, I ask, Make fools of those who calmly bask Beneath her smiles? At first they find All fair, then comes a stab behind. THE ROMANCE OF THE ROSE 241 And thou, who joy'dst to kiss the Rose, Through which to thee such misery grows As seems would never more abate, Dost thou desire it for thy fate Ever to live in soft delight Kissing fair roses, day and night? Now swear I stoutly by my head, Good sense within thee seemeth dead. Lest thou beneath thy sorrow sink, I counsel thee to muse and think Of Manfred and of Conradin And Henry, who, than Saladin, Did deadlier crimes, since war they made 'Gainst Holy Church their nurse, who laid Her curse on them, and mark how died Those of Marseilles through fatal pride. With ancient lore too well acquaint Art thou that I again need paint Vile Nero's crime, or Croesus' fall, Such lessons might'st thou well recall, Showing how vain their power to stay The turn of Fortune's wheel one day. I'faith! the freeman who in pride Of freedom scorneth all beside, Forgets how mighty Croesus fell From freedom's heaven to serfdom's hell, And in his memory holds he not Sad Hecuba's unhappy lot, The wife of Priam, nor the fate Of Sisygambis, who the great Darius, king of Persia, bore, Yet Alexander fell before; 242 THE ROMANCE OF THE ROSE All these o'er realms in freedom reigned Yet slaves became when Fortune waned.
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Nero deserted How Nero died Fair promise blighted King Croesus' dream Jupiter and Apollo True nobility The fall of pride Manfred of Sicily Death of Conradin The game of chess Charles of Anjou Victims of Fortune
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