A Lover’s Complaint

From off a hill whose concave womb reworded
A plaintful story from a sist’ring vale,
My spirits t’attend this double voice accorded,
And down I laid to list the sad-tuned tale;
Ere long espied a fickle maid full pale,	5
Tearing of papers, breaking rings a-twain,
Storming her world with sorrow’s wind and rain.
Upon her head a plaited hive of straw,
Which fortified her visage from the sun,
Whereon the thought might think sometime it saw	10
The carcass of a beauty spent and done;
Time had not scythed all that youth begun,
Nor youth all quit, but spite of heaven’s fell rage
Some beauty peeped through lattice of seared age.
Oft did she heave her napkin to her eyne,	15
Which on it had conceited characters,
Laund’ring the silken figures in the brine
That seasoned woe had pelleted in tears,
And often reading what contents it bears;
As often shrieking undistinguished woe,	20
In clamours of all size, both high and low.
Sometimes her levelled eyes their carriage ride,
As they did batt’ry to the spheres intend;
Sometime, diverted, their poor balls are tied
To th’orbed earth; sometimes they do extend	25
Their view right on; anon their gazes lend
To every place at once, and nowhere fixed,
The mind and sight distractedly commixed.
Her hair, nor loose, nor tied in formal plait,
Proclaimed in her a careless hand of pride;	30
For some untucked descended her sheaved hat,
Hanging her pale and pined cheek beside;
Some in her threaden fillet still did bide,
And, true to bondage, would not break from thence,
Though slackly braided in loose negligence.	35
A thousand favours from a maund she drew,
Of amber, crystal and of beaded jet,
Which, one by one, she in a river threw,
Upon whose weeping margent she was set,
Like usury, applying wet to wet,	40
Or monarch’s hands, that lets not bounty fall
Where want cries ‘Some!’, but where excess begs, ‘All!’
Of folded schedules had she many a one,
Which she perused, sighed, tore and gave the flood;
Cracked many a ring of posied gold and bone,	45
Bidding them find their sepulchres in mud;
Found yet moe letters, sadly penned in blood,
With sleided silk, feat and affectedly
Enswathed and sealed to curious secrecy.
These often bathed she in her fluxive eyes,	50
And often kissed, and often gave to tear;
Cried, ‘O false blood, thou register of lies,
What unapproved witness dost thou bear!
Ink would have seemed more black and damned here.’
This said, in top of rage the lines she rents,	55
Big discontent so breaking their contents.
A reverend man, that grazed his cattle nigh,
Sometime a blusterer, that the ruffle knew
Of court, of city, and had let go by
The swiftest hours observed as they flew,	60
Towards this afflicted fancy fastly drew,
And, privileged by age, desires to know
In brief the grounds and motives of her woe.
So slides he down upon his grained bat,
And comely distant sits he by her side,	65
When he again desires her, being sat,
Her grievance with his hearing to divide:
If that from him there may be aught applied
Which may her suffering ecstasy assuage,
’Tis promised in the charity of age.	70
‘Father,’ she says, ‘though in me ye behold
The injury of many a blasting hour,
Let it not tell your judgement I am old:
Not age, but sorrow, over me hath power.
I might as yet have been a spreading flower,	75
Fresh to myself, if I had self-applied
Love to myself, and to no love beside.
‘But woe is me! Too early I attended
A youthful suit; it was to gain my grace;
O, one by nature’s outwards so commended	80
That maidens’ eyes stuck over all his face;
Love lacked a dwelling, and made him her place;
And when in his fair parts she did abide
She was new-lodged and newly deified.
‘His browny locks did hang in crooked curls,	85
And every light occasion of the wind
Upon his lips their silken parcels hurls;
What’s sweet to do, to do will aptly find;
Each eye that saw him did enchant the mind:
For on his visage was in little drawn	90
What largeness thinks in paradise was sawn.
‘Small show of man was yet upon his chin;
His phoenix down began but to appear,
Like unshorn velvet, on that termless skin,
Whose bare out-bragged the web it seemed to wear;	95
Yet showed his visage by that cost more dear,
And nice affections wavering stood in doubt
If best were as it was, or best without.
‘His qualities were beauteous as his form:
For maiden-tongued he was, and thereof free;	100
Yet if men moved him, was he such a storm
As oft ’twixt May and April is to see,
When winds breathe sweet, unruly though they be.
His rudeness so with his authorized youth
Did livery falseness in a pride of truth.	105
‘Well could he ride, and often men would say,
“That horse his mettle from his rider takes,
Proud of subjection, noble by the sway,
What rounds, what bounds, what course, what stop he makes!”
And controversy hence a question takes,	110
Whether the horse by him became his deed,
Or he his manage, by th’ well-doing steed.
‘But quickly on this side the verdict went:
His real habitude gave life and grace
To appertainings and to ornament,	115
Accomplished in himself, not in his case;
All aids, themselves made fairer by their place,
Came for additions; yet their purposed trim
Pieced not his grace, but were all graced by him.
‘So on the tip of his subduing tongue	120
All kind of arguments and question deep,
All replication prompt, and reason strong,
For his advantage still did wake and sleep,
To make the weeper laugh, the laugher weep:
He had the dialect and different skill,	125
Catching all passions in his craft of will.
‘That he did in the general bosom reign
Of young, of old, and sexes both enchanted
To dwell with him in thoughts, or to remain
In personal duty, following where he haunted;	130
Consent’s bewitched, ere he desire have granted,
And dialogued for him what he would say,
Asked their own wills, and made their wills obey.
‘Many there were that did his picture get
To serve their eyes, and in it put their mind,	135
Like fools, that in th’imagination set
The goodly objects which abroad they find,
Of lands and mansions, theirs in thought assigned,
And labouring in moe pleasures to bestow them
Than the true gouty landlord which doth owe them.	140
‘So many have, that never touched his hand,
Sweetly supposed them mistress of his heart:
My woeful self that did in freedom stand,
And was my own fee-simple, not in part,
What with his art in youth, and youth in art,	145
Threw my affections in his charmed power,
Reserved the stalk and gave him all my flower.
‘Yet did I not, as some, my equals, did,
Demand of him; nor, being desired, yielded,
Finding myself in honour so forbid:	150
With safest distance I mine honour shielded.
Experience for me many bulwarks builded
Of proofs new-bleeding, which remained the foil
Of this false jewel and his amorous spoil.
‘But ah! Who ever shunned by precedent	155
The destined ill she must herself assay,
Or forced examples ’gainst her own content,
To put the by-passed perils in her way?
Counsel may stop a while what will not stay:
For when we rage, advice is often seen	160
By blunting us to make our wits more keen.
‘Nor gives it satisfaction to our blood
That we must curb it upon others’ proof,
To be forebode the sweets that seems so good,
For fear of harms that preach in our behoof:	165
O appetite, from judgement stand aloof!
The one a palate hath that needs will taste,
Though reason weep and cry, “It is thy last!”
‘For further, I could say, “This man’s untrue”,
And knew the patterns of his foul beguiling;	170
Heard where his plants in others’ orchards grew;
Saw how deceits were gilded in his smiling;
Knew vows were ever brokers to defiling;
Thought characters and words merely but art,
And bastards of his foul adulterate heart.	175
‘And long upon these terms I held my city,
Till thus he ’gan besiege me: “Gentle maid,
Have of my suffering youth some feeling pity
And be not of my holy vows afraid:
That’s to ye sworn to none was ever said,	180
For feasts of love I have been called unto,
Till now, did ne’er invite, nor never woo.
‘ “All my offences that abroad you see
Are errors of the blood, none of the mind:
Love made them not; with acture they may be	185
Where neither party is nor true nor kind;
They sought their shame that so their shame did find,
And so much less of shame in me remains,
By how much of me their reproach contains.
‘ “Among the many that mine eyes have seen,	190
Not one whose flame my heart so much as warmed,
Or my affection put to th’ smallest teen,
Or any of my leisures ever charmed:
Harm have I done to them, but ne’er was harmed;
Kept hearts in liveries, but my own was free,	195
And reigned commanding in his monarchy.
‘ “Look here what tributes wounded fancies sent me,
Of pallid pearls and rubies red as blood,
Figuring that they their passions likewise lent me
Of grief and blushes, aptly understood,	200
In bloodless white and the encrimsoned mood,
Effects of terror and dear modesty,
Encamped in hearts, but fighting outwardly.
‘ “And lo! Behold these talons of their hair,
With twisted metal amorously empleached,	205
I have received from many a several fair,
Their kind acceptance weepingly beseeched,
With th’annexions of fair gems enriched,
And deep-brained sonnets, that did amplify
Each stone’s dear nature, worth and quality.	210
‘ “The diamond? Why, ’twas beautiful and hard,
Whereto his invised properties did tend:
The deep green emerald, in whose fresh regard
Weak sights their sickly radiance do amend;
The heaven-hued sapphire and the opal blend	215
With objects manifold; each several stone
With wit well-blazoned smiled, or made some moan.
‘ “Lo, all these trophies of affections hot,
Of pensived and subdued desires the tender,
Nature hath charged me that I hoard them not,	220
But yield them up where I myself must render,
That is, to you, my origin and ender:
For these of force must your oblations be;
Since I their altar, you empatron me.
‘ “O then advance of yours that phraseless hand,	225
Whose white weighs down the airy scale of praise;
Take all these similes to your own command,
Hallowed with sighs that burning lungs did raise:
What me, your minister for you, obeys,
Works under you; and to your audit comes	230
Their distract parcels in combined sums.
‘ “Lo, this device was sent me from a nun,
Or sister sanctified, of holiest note,
Which late her noble suit in court did shun,
Whose rarest havings made the blossoms dote;	235
For she was sought by spirits of richest coat,
But kept cold distance, and did thence remove
To spend her living in eternal love.
‘ “But O, my sweet, what labour is’t to leave
The thing we have not, mast’ring what not strives,	240
Planing the place which did no form receive,
Playing patient sports in unconstrained gyves;
She that her fame so to herself contrives
The scars of battle ’scapeth by the flight,
And makes her absence valiant, not her might.	245
‘ “O pardon me, in that my boast is true;
The accident which brought me to her eye
Upon the moment did her force subdue,
And now she would the caged cloister fly,
Religious love put out religion’s eye;	250
Not to be tempted would she be immured,
And now to tempt all liberty procured.
‘ “How mighty then you are, O hear me tell!
The broken bosoms that to me belong
Have emptied all their fountains in my well,	255
And mine I pour your ocean all among:
I strong o’er them, and you o’er me being strong,
Must for your victory us all congest,
As compound love, to physic your cold breast.
‘ “My parts had power to charm a sacred nun,	260
Who, disciplined, I dieted in grace,
Believed her eyes, when they t’assail begun,
All vows and consecrations giving place.
O most potential love! Vow, bond, nor space,
In thee hath neither sting, knot, nor confine,	265
For thou art all and all things else are thine.
‘ “When thou impressest, what are precepts worth
Of stale example? When thou wilt inflame,
How coldly those impediments stand forth,
Of wealth, of filial fear, law, kindred, fame?	270
Love’s arms are peace, ’gainst rule, ’gainst sense, ’gainst shame,
And sweetens in the suff’ring pangs it bears
The aloes of all forces, shocks and fears.
‘ “Now all these hearts that do on mine depend,
Feeling it break, with bleeding groans they pine,	275
And supplicant their sighs to you extend,
To leave the batt’ry that you make’gainst mine,
Lending soft audience to my sweet design
And credent soul to that strong-bonded oath
That shall prefer and undertake my troth.”	280
‘This said, his wat’ry eyes he did dismount,
Whose sights till then were levelled on my face;
Each cheek a river running from a fount
With brinish current downward flowed apace.
O how the channel to the stream gave grace,	285
Who glazed with crystal gate the glowing roses
That flame through water which their hue encloses!
‘O father, what a hell of witchcraft lies
In the small orb of one particular tear!
But with the inundation of the eyes	290
What rocky heart to water will not wear?
What breast so cold that is not warmed here?
O cleft effect! Cold modesty, hot wrath,
Both fire from hence and chill extincture hath.
‘For lo, his passion, but an art of craft,	295
Even there resolved my reason into tears;
There my white stole of chastity I daffed,
Shook off my sober guards and civil fears,
Appeared to him as he to me appears,
All melting, though our drops this diff’rence bore:	300
His poisoned me, and mine did him restore.
‘In him a plenitude of subtle matter,
Applied to cautels, all strange forms receives,
Of burning blushes, or of weeping water,
Or swooning paleness; and he takes and leaves	305
In either’s, aptness, as it best deceives,
To blush at speeches rank, to weep at woes,
Or to turn white and swoon at tragic shows.
‘That not a heart which in his level came
Could ’scape the hail of his all-hurting aim,	310
Showing fair nature is both kind and tame;
And veiled in them, did win whom he would maim.
Against the thing he sought he would exclaim;
When he most burned in heart-wished luxury
He preached pure maid, and praised cold chastity.	315
‘Thus, merely with the garment of a grace,
The naked and concealed fiend he covered,
That th’unexperient gave the tempter place
Which, like a cherubin, above them hovered.
Who, young and simple, would not be so lovered?	320
Ay me, I fell, and yet do question make
What I should do again for such a sake.
‘O, that infected moisture of his eye!
O, that false fire which in his cheek so glowed!
O, that forced thunder from his heart did fly!	325
O, that sad breath his spongy lungs bestowed!
O, all that borrowed motion, seeming owed,
Would yet again betray the fore-betrayed,
And new pervert a reconciled maid.’