Your praises, how you are beloved by me
To you I by a thousand proofs have shown,
Vouching I am, and can but be, your own.
Let him who will, three leaves or four pass-by,
Nor read a line; or let him, who will read,
As little of that landlord’s history,
As of a tale or fiction, make his creed.
But to my story:—When his auditory
He saw were waiting for him to proceed,
And that a place was yielded him, o’eright
The cavalier, he ’gan his tale recite:
“Astolpho that the Lombard sceptre swayed,
Who was King Monacho, his brother’s heir,
By nature with such graces was purveyed,
Few e’er with him in beauty could compare:
Such scarce Apelles’ pencil had portrayed,
Zeuxis’, or worthier yet, if worthier were:
Beauteous he was, and so by all was deemed,
But far more beauteous he himself esteemed.
“He not so much rejoiced that he in height
Of grandeur was exalted o’er the rest,
And that, for riches, subjects, and for might,
Of all the neighbouring kings he was the best,
As that, superior to each other wight,
He beauty was throughout the world confest.
This pleased the monarch, who the praise conferred,
As that wherein he most delighted, heard.
“Faustus Latinus, one of his array,
Who pleased the king, a Roman cavalier,
Hearing ofttimes Astolpho now display
The beauties of his hand, now of his cheer,
And, questioned by that monarch, on a day,
If ever in his lifetime, far or near,
He any of such beauty had espied,
To him thus unexpectedly replied:
“Faustus to him replied: ‘By what I see,
And what I hear, is said by every one,
Few are there that in beauty rival thee;
And rather I those few confine to one:
Jocundo is that one, my brother he;
And well I ween that, saving him alone,
Thou leavest all in beauty far behind;
But I in him thy peer and better find.’
“Impossible Astolpho deemed the thing,
Who hitherto had thought the palm his own;
And such a longing seized the Lombard king
To know that youth whose praises so were blown,
He prest, till Faustus promised him to bring
The brother praised by him, before his throne,
‘Though ’twould be much if thither he repaired,’
(The courier added) ‘and the cause declared:
“ ‘Because the youth had ne’er been known to measure,
In all his life, a single pace from Rome;
But, on what Fortune gave him, lived at leisure,
Contented in his own paternal dome;
Nor had diminished nor increased the treasure,
Wherewith his father had endowed that home;
And he more distant would Pavia deem
Than Tanäis another would esteem;
“ ‘And that a greater difficulty were
To tear Jocundo from his consort; who
Was by such love united to that fair,
No other will but hers the husband knew:
Yet at his sovereign’s hest he would repair
To seek the stripling, and his utmost do.’
The suit with offers and with gifts was crowned,
Which for that youth’s refusal left no ground.
“Faustus set forth, and, after few days’ ride,
Reached Rome, and his paternal mansion gained:
There with entreaties so the brother plied,
He to that journey his consent obtained;
And wrought so well (though difficult to guide)
Silent even young Jocundo’s wife remained;
He showing her what good would thence ensue,
Besides what gratitude would be her due.
“Jocundo names a time to wend his way,
And servingmen meanwhile purveys and steeds;
And a provision makes of fair array;
For beauty borrows grace from glorious weeds.
Beside him or about him, night and day,
Aye weeping, to her lord the lady reads;
‘She knows not how she ever can sustain
So long an absence, and not die with pain.
“ ‘For the mere thought produced such misery,
It seemed from her was ravished her heart’s core.’
—‘Alas! my love (Jocundo cried) let be
Thy sorrows’—weeping with her evermore—
‘So may this journey prosper! as to thee
Will I return ere yet two months are o’er;
Nor by a day o’erpass the term prescribed,
Though me the king with half his kingdom bribed.’
“This brought his troubled consort small content:
She, ‘that the period was too distant,’ said,
And, ‘that ’twould be a mighty wonderment,
If her, at his return, he found not dead.’
The grief which, day and night, her bosom rent,
Was such, that lady neither slept nor fed:
So that for pity oft the youth repented
He to his brother’s wishes had consented.
“She from her neck unloosed a costly chain
That a gemmed cross and holy relics bore;
Which one, a pilgrim of Bohemia’s reign,
Had gathered upon many a distant shore;
Him did her sire in sickness entertain,
Returning from Jerusalem of yore;
And hence was made that dying pilgrim’s heir:
This she undoes, and gives her lord to wear;
“And round his neck entreats him, for her sake,
That chain in memory of herself to wind:
Her gift the husband is well pleased to take;
Not that a token needs his love to bind:
For neither time, nor absence, e’er will shake,
Nor whatsoever fortune is behind,
Her memory, which, rooted fast and deep,
He still has kept, and after death will keep.
“The night before that morning streaked the sky,
Fixt for his journey, to his sore dismay,
Her husband deemed that in his arms would die
The wife from whom he was to wend his way.
She slumbered not: to her a last goodbye
He bade, while yet it lacked an hour of day,
Mounted his nag, and on his journey sped;
While his afflicted spouse returned to bed.
“Jocundo was not two miles on his road,
When he that jewelled cross recalled to mind;
Which he beneath his pillow had bestowed,
And, through forgetfulness, had left behind.
‘Alas! (the youth bethought him) in what mode
Shall I excuse for my omission find,
So that from this my consort shall not deem
I little her unbounded love esteem?’
“He pondered an excuse; then weened’ twould be
Of little
