14 Forgive me that I am not what I seem;
But falsely have dissembled an excess
Of all such virtues as you most esteem;
But now grow good but as I ills confess.

15 Far in ambition's fever am I gone!

Like raging flame aspiring is my love;

Like flame destructive too, and, like the sun,

Does round the world tow'rds change of objects

move.

16 Nor is this now through virtuous shame confessed; But Rhodalind does force my conjured fear,

As men whom evil spirits have possessed,
Tell all when saintly votaries appear.

17 When she will grace the bridal dignity,

It will be soon to all young monarchs known; Who then by posting through the world will try Who first can at her feet present his crown.

18 Then will Verona seem the inn of kings,
And Rhodalind shall at her palace gate

Smile, when great love these royal suitors brings;
Who for that smile would as for empire wait.

19 Amongst this ruling race she choice may take
For warmth of valour, coolness of the mind,
Eyes that in empire's drowsy calms can wake,
In storms look out, in darkness dangers find;

20 A prince who more enlarges power than lands, Whose greatness is not what his map contains; But thinks that his where he at full commands, Not where his coin does pass, but power remains.

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145

21 'Who knows that power can never be too high When by the good possessed, for 'tis in them The swelling Nile, from which though people fly,

They prosper most by rising of the stream.

22 Thus, princes, you should choose; and you will find,
Even he, since men are wolves, must civilise,
As light does tame some beasts of savage kind,
Himself yet more, by dwelling in your eyes.'

23 Such was the Duke's reply; which did produce
Thoughts of a diverse shape through several ears:
His jealous rivals mourn at his excuse;
But Astragon it cures of all his fears.

24 Birtha his praise of Rhodalind bewails;
And now her hope a weak physician seems;
For hope, the common comforter, prevails
Like common medicines, slowly in extremes.

25 The King (secure in offered empire) takes

This forced excuse as troubled bashfulness,
And a disguise which sudden passion makes,
To hide more joy than prudence should express.

26 And Rhodalind, who never loved before,

Nor could suspect his love was given away,
Thought not the treasure of his breast so poor,
But that it might his debts of honour pay.

27 To hasten the rewards of his desert,

The King does to Verona him command;
And, kindness so imposed, not all his art
Can now instruct his duty to withstand.

28 Yet whilst the King does now his time dispose
In seeing wonders, in this palace shown,
He would a parting kindness pay to those

Who of their wounds are yet not perfect grown.

29 And by this fair pretence, whilst on the King
Lord Astragon through all the house attends,
Young Orgo does the Duke to Birtha bring,
Who thus her sorrows to his bosom sends:

30 'Why should my storm your life's calm voyage vex? Destroying wholly virtue's race in one:

So by the first of my unlucky sex,

All in a single ruin were undone.

31 Make heavenly Rhodalind your bride! whilst I,
Your once loved maid, excuse you, since I know
That virtuous men forsake so willingly
Long-cherished life, because to heaven they go.

32 'Let me her servant be: a dignity,

Which if your pity in my fall procures,
I still shall value the advancement high,
Not as the crown is hers, but she is yours.'

33 Ere this high sorrow up to dying grew,

The Duke the casket opened, and from thence,
Formed like a heart, a cheerful emerald drew;
Cheerful, as if the lively stone had sense.

34 The thirtieth caract it had doubled twice;
Not taken from the Attic silver mine,
Nor from the brass, though such, of nobler price,
Did on the necks of Parthian ladies shine:

35 Nor yet of those which make the Ethiop proud;

Nor taken from those rocks where Bactrians climb: But from the Scythian, and without a cloud;

Not sick at fire, nor languishing with time.

36 Then thus he spake: 'This, Birtha, from my male Progenitors, was to the loyal she

On whose kind heart they did in love prevail,

The nuptial pledge, and this I give to thee:

37 'Seven centuries have passed, since it from bride

To bride did first succeed; and though 'tis known
From ancient lore, that gems much virtue hide,
And that the emerald is the bridal stone:

38 'Though much renowned because it chastens loves,
And will, when worn by the neglected wife,
Show when her absent lord disloyal proves,
By faintness, and a pale decay of life.

39 Though emeralds serve as spies to jealous brides, Yet each compared to this does counsel keep; Like a false stone, the husband's falsehood hides, Or seems born blind, or feigns a dying sleep.

40 With this take Orgo, as a better spy,

Who may in all your kinder fears be sent
To watch at court, if I deserve to die

By making this to fade, and you lament.'

41 Had now an artful pencil Birtha drawn,

With grief all dark, then straight with joy all light,
He must have fancied first, in early dawn,
A sudden break of beauty out of night.

42 Or first he must have marked what paleness fear,
Like nipping frost, did to her visage bring;
Then think he sees, in a cold backward year,
A rosy morn begin a sudden spring.

43 Her joys, too vast to be contained in speech, Thus she a little spake: Why stoop you down, My plighted lord, to lowly Birtha's reach,

Since Rhodalind would lift you to a crown?

44 'Or why do I, when I this plight embrace,
Boldly aspire to take what you have given?
But that your virtue has with angels place,
And 'tis a virtue to aspire to heaven.

45 And as towards heaven all travel on their knees,
So I towards you, though love aspire, will move:
And were you crowned, what could you better please
Then awed obedience led by bolder love?

46 If I forget the depth from whence I rise,

Far from your bosom banished be my heart;
Or claim a right by beauty to your eyes;
Or proudly think my chastity desert.

47 But thus ascending from your humble maid
To be your plighted bride, and then your wife,
Will be a debt that shall be hourly paid,
Till time my duty cancel with my life.

48 And fruitfully, if heaven e'er make me bring
Your image to the world, you then my pride
No more shall blame than you can tax the spring
For boasting of those flowers she cannot hide.