Romance of the Rose (Ellis)/Chapter 92
XCII
How Zeuxis, famed of old, did try
To paint fair Nature perfectly;
And on his glorious task intent
Great care and labour freely spent.
Zeuxis, the painter, strove in vain.
That he might Nature’s skill attain,16960
Who one time did for models take
Five virgins, who for beauty’s sake
Had all comparison defied,
(Although their equals far and wide
Were sought, who for perfection rare
Of body might with them compare,)
When would he for the temple paint
A picture that might scorn complaint
Or question, and before him stood
The five all unadorned and nude16970
As Venus’ self, that he in them
Might seek to spy defect or wem,
Whether of body, limbs, or skin.
Nature beyond imitation
And signally he failed therein,
As all may read in Tully’s book
Of rhetoric, who care to look
Within its pages. Zeuxis nought
Could equal these whenso he sought,
Though in the art of painting he
To no man ever bowed the knee,16980
So deft is Nature’s subtle skill,
Who doth the earth with fairness fill.
Zeuxis, nor any other who
Hath e’er been born could reach thereto.
How well soe’er they understood
All Nature’s loveliness, and would
Employ their hands to imitate
Her works—thereof enamorate.
For God alone it is who can
Such glories work, not puny man.16990
Most gladly would I, dared I hope.
Such matters stood within my scope,
Describe all Nature unto you,
But power of words would lack thereto,
Though to that task, surhuman I,
Addressed my spirit earnestly
A hundred times: nay, nay, far more
Than I shall e’er gain credit for;
Presumption were it most extreme
That I should ever dare to dream17000
That such a mighty work could be
Achieved by my capacity.
Nature surpasses all thought
Far better were it I had died
Than venture to indulge such pride
As think that I could comprehend,
For all the pains I might expend.
Fair Nature’s glorious paradise—
Beyond all words—past thought of price;
Nor though aloft my thoughts had flown.
That I should dare to write thereon;17010
No—in my spirit so am I
Abashed, that fear my tongue doth tie,
And so doth shame my being steep,
That silence it behoves me keep;
For e’en as more and more I think
Of Nature’s loveliness, I shrink
From lauding, in my faltering phrase,
Her perfect works and wondrous ways.
When God, whose glory is above
All measurement, in bounteous love17020
Created Nature, he did make
Of her a fountain (whence should break
Unceasingly a thousand rills)
Of beauty, which the whole world fills.
This fount wells ever and cannot
By time be wasted as I wot,
More high than heaven, and than the sea
More deep, ’tis called immensity.
How then describe that body or
That countenance, that hath far more17030
Of beauty than the fleur-de-lis.
Which we new blown in May-tide see?
The rose is not more red, more white
No snow which clads the mountain height,
But ’tis folly to compare
That which beyond all thought is fair,
And Nature’s beauty doth o’ergo
All that man’s heart or mind can know.
When Nature heard the Barons swear
Their solemn oath, it brought to her17040
Great solace for the woe that weighed
Her heart down, yet scarce unafraid
She cried:
Nature.
Nature’s repentance
Alas! what have I done?
On me returns, unhappy one!
The memory of a fault that I
Committed in days long gone by
When first this beauteous world was made,
And justly had by penance paid
Therefor, since fain am I to win
Pardon for my unwitting sin.17050
Alas! how many a thousand time
Must I repent me of my crime!
How have I then my pains employed?
Am I of wit so far devoid,
That I who thought my friends to serve,
And thence their praise and thanks deserve,
Must yet acknowledge in the end
That ’tis my foes whom I befriend?
My kindness brings me but distress.
The Author.
Then to her priest doth she confess,
Who in her chapel hastes to say
The mass, although in no new way,
For alway had he service due
Performed, since he was priest thereto.
Boldly, in place of other mass.
The priest, whose knowledge doth surpass
All others, called before the queen
Each creature that hath ever been
Born in this mortal world, then writ
Within his book whate’er of it17070
Great Nature unto him revealed,
Which else had been a mystery sealed.