Classic Poem

Then to my Friend I bade adieu, and left
With happy heart, traversing all the mead
Brilliant with flowers and grass, and listening
To sweetest birds that chanted newest songs;
Their pleasing music filled my heart with joy.
One thing my Friend had told me gave me grief:
He said I must avoid and circle 'round
The castle, nor seek pleasure near its towers.
I knew not if I could that counsel keep,
For by desire I was e'er toward it led.
Avoiding then the right-hand path, I took
The left-hand one, to seek the nearest way,
Which I was fain to find, that in most haste,
Unless a stronger force should interfere,
I might Fair Welcome, frank and debonair
And lovely, rescue from his prison house.
Should I soon see the all-enclosing walls
Crumble like o'erdone cake, and every gate
Fly open, leaving nothing to oppose,
If then ingression I should fail to gain,
A devil in my paunch I'd surely have!
And I would bet a hundred thousand pounds
Fair Welcome should be freed, you may be sure,
Could I but manage to traverse the road.
But from the fort a distance I must stay,
Though not too far, as I may promise you.
Musing upon my budding Rose, I found
Hard by a fountain clear, in pleasant spot,
An honorable and most exalted dame,
Genteel of figure, beautiful of face,
Sitting beneath an elm beside her friend.
His name I know not; Wealth the lady was
Who guarded most majestically the gate,
Though she indeed did not blockade the path.
Soon as I saw them, I inclined my head
In salutation; they returned my bow
Most promptly, but that did me little good.
However, I asked them if that were the road
Of Too-Much-Giving. Promptly Wealth replied
In somewhat haughty words, " This is the path,
And I am she who guards it. "
" God preserve
You, lady, " I replied. " If 'twill not weigh
Too much upon your conscience, please consent
That I may go into that castle new
That Jealousy has just erected there. "
" Vassal, " said she, " that cannot be as yet;
I know you not at all. Since you're not one
Of my acquaintance, you're not welcome here.
Perhaps ten years may pass ere you by me
Will be admitted; and none enters here,
Though he from Amiens or Paris were,
Unless he be my friend. I grant ingress
To all who know me and who wish to lead
Awhile a pleasant life of dance and song
And balladry, which no sage need begrudge.
Within they're entertained with farandole,
With merrymaking and with morris dance,
With viols, tambours, and the latest songs,
With games of chess and backgammon and dice,
With most exotic and delightful feasts.
Ancient duennas there join man with maid,
And these explore the gardens, fields, and groves,
Wanton as popinjays; then to the baths
They go together and together bathe
In pools provided, to the chambers nigh,
Where, with flowery wreaths upon their heads,
They lie in Mad Largesse's hostelry.
'Tis true that he impoverishes them,
And bleeds them till they scarcely can revive,
So high his prices are — so dear he sells
Accommodations and all services.
So harsh his tribute, they must sell their lands
Ere they contrive to pay the bill in full.
Most joyful are they when I lead them there,
But Poverty conducts them from the place,
Cold, trembling, all but bare. The entrance mine,
But hers the exit, I have no concern
With those who leave, however learned and wise.
They may go to the devil when they're broke!
Yet I'll not say I can't be reconciled
With them again, if they can raise more cash,
Though hard the task may be. Oft as they wish
I'll introduce them; when they have the price,
I'll never be too tired to let them in.
The one who most repentant is at first
Will in the end frequent the place the most,
Although they cannot face me without shame.
Little they lack of giving up their lives,
So angry they become, so much aggrieved.
I always flee from those who flee from me.
" I warn you well that later you'll repent
If e'er you set your foot upon this path.
No captive bear's so wretched and so cowed
When flogged, as you will be if you proceed.
If you in Poverty's dominion come,
She'll make you linger long on bed of straw
And hay until you lastly starve to death.
Famine was formerly her chamberer,
And served so well with ardent fervency
That Poverty repaid her with her lore,
Teaching her all her malice, making her
Mistress and nurse of ugly-featured Theft,
Nourishing him with milk from her own breasts
Because she had no pap to feed him on.
Her land, you know, is neither sand nor loam,
For Famine dwells upon a stony field
Where neither tree nor bush nor grain will grow,
In far-off Scotland, country marble cold.
Finding no trees or grain, she digs the herbs
With hard and sharpened nails and teeth, but finds
Them growing sparse, thin-sown among the stones.
" If you'd have me describe her, 'tis soon done:
Great need has she of oaten bread; she's tall
And thin and feeble and worn out; her hair
Is ragged; bleared her deep-set eyes; her face
Dry-lipped and pale; her jowls besmeared with dirt;
Her entrails one can see through her thin skin;
Marrowless, her bones stick from her flanks;
She has no belly but the cavity
Where it should be — it is a pit so deep
Her very breasts seem pendent from her spine.
Her knees lack roundness, and her hollow toes
And heels as lean are, angular and thin,
As if there were no flesh upon her bones,
So tightly are they pinched in meagerness.
" The fruitful goddess Ceres never finds
The way to Famine's home to sprout the grain;
Nor guides Triptolemus his dragons there.
The Fates decree that ever separate
Sad Famine and the harvest goddess stay.
But soon enough will Poverty contrive
To lead you there if you're held in her grasp
When you persist in going to that place
Where you can loaf as much as is your wont;
For men reach Poverty by other paths
Than that which here I guard: a lazy life
And slothful brings a man to her as well.
If it should please you to pursue the road
I guard to wretched, spiteful Poverty,
You may well fail when you assail the fort;
But Famine will your next-door neighbor be.
Better than if she had a parchment map
She knows the way to Famine as by heart.
And so attentive and so courteous
Is Famine to her lady, Poverty,
Whom she nor loves nor prizes, although she,
However stripped and wretched, still contrives
Her handmaid to sustain, that Famine comes
Each day to see her and with her to sit
And kiss her with one hand beneath her chin,
No matter how distasteful be the act.
She grabs Theft by the ear, if he's asleep,
And wakes him, bending o'er him in distress,
Saying that by his craft alone may they
The wherewithal to save their lives procure.
Faint Heart with Theft and Famine is agreed,
But always thinks about the hangman's rope
Which makes his every hair to stand on end
In fear lest he should see his offspring hang
Because someone has caught him in his sin.
Enter not by this path; seek other ways.
You've served too little to deserve my love. "
" Lady, I swear I'd gladly win your love, "
Said I, " if I were able, that I might
Your pathway enter to release my friend,
Fair Welcome, who's imprisoned in the tower.
Grant me that favor, if it may you please. "
" I heard your first request, " said she, " and know
You've not sold all your forest, large and small.
A beech you have retained, and you're no fool;
For without fuel none can hope to live
Who would pursue the enterprise of love.
Those in such madness think they are most wise;
And yet they do not live, but rather die,
As long as in their torment they remain.
This rage and madness cannot be called life.
Reason knows well your case but could not turn
You from your folly. When you'd not believe
Her words, you fooled yourself most cruelly.
Ere Reason came, nothing could hold you back;
Nor can my words restrain you; for you prize
Them not at all now you have fallen in love.
No lover half appreciates my worth,
But each makes haste to dissipate the goods
That I allot him — flings them everywhere.
Where, in the devil's name, could one procure
What lovers spend? Depart, and let me be! "
Seeing that I could nothing get from her,
I stayed no longer but departed thence;
And with her stylish lover she remained.
Pensive I wandered through the garden fair,
Which was so rich and precious, as you've heard.
My thoughts were elsewhere; it gave little joy.
In every place, at every time, I mused
How I might better serve without deceit.
I would avoid commission of a fault
So that I might no reputation lose.
My heart the counsel treasured and held fast
That Friend had given me: that I should try,
Wheree'r he were, to honor Evil Tongue.
I set myself to serve, and homage pay
As best I could to all my enemies.
Whether I'd gain their favor I knew not;
But what I could I felt compelled to do,
Not daring to approach the castle walls
As I had done could I have had my way.
Thus did I sorry penance, sadly torn
In conscience, as God knows; for what I did
Was quite another thing from what I wished.
Ne'er had I such duplicity in mind
As then when my intentions double were.
To gain my ends I felt I had to be
A traitor, though before I ne'er that name deserved.