Classic Poem

When Diophantus knew
The Destinies' decreet—
How he was forced to forgoe
His dear and only sweet.

O'er vaulted with the vail
Of beam-rebeating trees,
And ghastly gazing on the ground
Ev'n death-stroke in his eyes,

Oft pressed he to speak,
But while he did essay,
The agonizing dread of death
His wrestling voice did stay.

At last, as one that strives
Against both woe and shame,—
“Dear Charidora, oh!” he cries,
“My high adored dame.

“First I attest thy name,
And then the gods above;
But chief of these, the Boy that bears
The stately style of Love.

“Let those record with me
What was my constant part;
And if I did not honour thee
With a well-hallow'd heart.

“I sacrific'd to thee;
My secret chaste desires
Upon thy beauty's altar burnt
With never-quenching fires.

“Thou wast that idol still,
Whose image I ador'd—
The saint to whom I made my vows,
Whose pity I implor'd;

“The star that sav'd my ship
From tempest of despair,
When the horizon of my hope
O'er-clouded was with care.

“Thou wast the sovereign balm,
The sweet catholicon—
Which cur'd me of all my cares
When I did grieve and groan.

“Tho' now such strange events
Are interveen'd since syne—
As I dare not avow to say,
Nor think that thou art mine.

“Which makes me thus insert,
In this my sorrowing song—
The history of my mishap,
My misery and wrong.

“Not that I can accuse
My Charidora; No!
I only execrate the Fates,
Chief workers of my woe.

“Should she whom I have lov'd
So many blithesome years—
For whom my dew-distilling eyes
Have shed such streams of tears,—

“Should she I say be made
A prey to such a one
Who for her sake yet never gave
Ev'n one untimely groan.

“No surely, surely no;
The Fates may do me wrong,
And make her by their bad decreet
To whom they please belong;

“Yet I dare boldly say,
And peradventure vaunt,
That she is mine by lot of love
Tho' luck in love I want.

“And tho' my horoscope
Envy my worldly things,
Yet unto love it gave me leave
For to compare with kings.

“And if I knew there were
Under the starry sky,
That durst avow to love my dame
More faithfully than I—

“I should tear out this heart
Which entertains my breath,
And cast it down before her feet
To die a shameful death.

“But since both time and she
Have tried me to be true—
And found such faithfulness in me
As shall be found in few,

“I rest secure in this,
And care not who pretend;
The more presumes—the more my part
Proves perfect to the end.

“And others' faithless faiths,
In balance weigh'd with mine,
Shall make my truth for to triumph,
And as the sun to shine.

“There shall no change of things,
Of time—of soil—of air,
Enforce me to forgoe the vows
Made to my fairest fair;

“Which here I do renew
In solemn form again,
To witness as I did begin
So shall I still remain.

“I swear by those two eyes,
My only dearest dear,
And by the Stygian stanks of hell,
Whereby the gods did swear;

“That thou art only she
Whose countenance I crave,
And shall be both in life and death
Thy best affected slave;

“That there shall no deceits
Of lovely laughing een,
No sugar'd sound of Syren songs
With far-fetched sighs between—

“Deface out of my mind,
What love did so engrave,
Thy words, thy looks, and such things else
As none but angels have.

“And this which here I swear,
And solemnly protest—
These trees which only present are
Shall witness and attest.

“But chief above them all
This holly sad and green
On which the ciphers of our names
Character'd, shall be seen.

“O happy, happy tree,
Unto whose tender rind
The trophies of our love shall live
Eternally enshrin'd;

“Which shall have force to make
Thy memory remain,
Sequester'd from the bastard sort
Of trees, which are profane.

“For when with careless looks,
The rest o'erpass'd shall be,
Then thou shalt be ador'd and kiss'd,
For Charidora's tree.

“And peradventure too
For Diophantus' sake
Some civil person that comes by
Shall homage to thee make.

“Thus bless'd shalt thou remain,
While I unhappy prove,
And doubtful where I shall be blest
When I shall leave my love.

“Indeed all is in doubt,
But this—I must depart;
The body must a pilgrim be,
And she retain the heart.

“The thoughts of which exile
And dolorous divorce
Works sorrow—sorrow doth from me
Those sad complaints enforce.

“For while I was resolved
To smother up my grief,
Because it might but move in men
More marvel than belief—

“The never-ceasing frowns
Of mal-encountrous fates
Extorted those abortive births
Of importune regrets,

“To witness to the world,
That my mishaps are such,
Although I mourn like one half mad,
I cannot mourn too much.

“For if of all mishaps,
This be the first of all
To have been highly happy once,
And from that height to fall;

“I'm sure I may well say,
That Diophantus' name
Is the synonyme of mishaps,
Or else exceeds the same.

“Or if there be no Hell
But out of Heaven to be,
Consider what her want should work,
Whose sight was such to me.

“I think all those that speak
Of sorrow, should think shame,
When Diophantus shall be heard,
Or Charidora's name.

“Her worth was without spot—
His truth was unreprov'd;
The one deserv'd at least to live,
The other to be lov'd.

“Yet hath the dev'lish doom
Of destinies, ordained—
That he should lose both life and love,
And she a faithful friend.

“Wherefore all you that hear
Those amorous tragic plays—
Bestow on him a world of plaints,
On her a world of praise.”