III.

Stop the chafed boar, or play
 With the lion's paw, yet fear
 From the lover's side to tear
The idol of his soul away.

Though love enter by the sight
 To the heart, it doth not fly
 From the mind, when from the eye
The fair objects take their flight.

But since want provokes desire,
 When we lose what we before
 Have enjoy'd, as we want more,
So is love more set on fire.

Love doth with an hungry eye
 Glut on beauty; and you may
 Safer snatch the tiger's prey,
Than his vital food deny.

When Genius ended, all the lords rejoiced.
Never a better sermon, so they said,
Had been pronounced to them; nor since their birth
Had they a fuller pardon e'er received;
Nor ever such a just anathema
Against all men who might that pardon scorn
Had they e'er heard. They all at once adhered
Unto that creed and cried, " Fiat! Amen! "
Things being so appointed, they would brook
No more delay. Each one who had paid heed
To that sweet sermon loved its text so well
That word for word he locked it in his heart.

" ELOQUENT Genius, now I bid you seek
The host of barons of the God of Love,
Who, I am certain, is so fond of me,
So frank and debonair is he of heart,
That much he strives to serve me, and is drawn,
More than a steel to magnet, to my work.
My greetings give to him and my good friend
Dame Venus, and to all the barony
Except False Seeming, who associates
With hypocrites most dangerous and vain
And felons whom the Scriptures designate
As pseudo-prophets. Of Forced Abstinence
I've much suspicion that she's also proud

Venus her meinie summoned, then gave word
Her chariot to prepare; for in the mud
She would not go afoot. Her car was bright,
Rolling on four gold wheels begemmed with pearls.
In place of collared horses, six fair doves
She chose from out her dovecots for the shafts.
All things are ready, so she mounts her car
And starts to wage her war with Chastity.
The birds do not cavort, but beat their wings
And then are on their way; the air divides
Before them as they cleave it in their flight.
Betimes they come upon the battlefield.

Wise messengers departed from the host
And journeyed till they came to Venus' home,
Where with great honor they were well received.
Within a wooded plain is Cythera,
A mount so high that ne'er an arbalest,
However strong and competent to shoot,
Could send a shaft or arrow to its height.
Venus, who inspires all womankind,
Her principal pavilion perches there.
I'd bore you if I should describe it all,
And so I'll let it go; I would be brief.
Dame Venus had descended to the plain
To hunt. Her dearest friend attended her —

Then all the three assailed me once again,
And each one tried to kick me out-of-doors;
Nor could this trial have given me more grief
If they had tried to crucify me there.
I tried to cry for mercy, but my voice
Was weak; my piteous shout could scarcely reach
My friends, whose duty 'twas to succor me,
And call them to the assault. It was perceived
By sentinels they'd set to guard the host,
Who, when they heard the noise, set up a shout:
" Up, barons, up! Let each appear in arms
Quickly to aid this faithful lover here,

" THE moral of this tale is that a man
Should take good care how he spies on his wife
Or friend and by his foolish trickery
Discovers her in any open lapse;
For he should know that worse she will become
When once her fault is proved; nor will he have
From her obedience or friendliness
When once he's caught her, moved by jealousy.
Than jealousy, which burns and fills with care
The jealous one, there's no more foolish vice;
But she with feigned complaint will oft pretend
To jealousy, thus to deceive the fool.

" IF it should chance a woman is not fair,
She should make up her lacks with dainty dress —
Its elegance offsets her ugliness.
If she should lose her hair — the saddest sight —
Because it falls too soon from her blond head,
Or else because of some great malady
She finds it needful to cut short her curls,
Diminishing her beauty by the act,
Or else because some angry ribald tears
Her hair in anger, leaving not enough
To form a braid, then she must soon procure
The hair of someone who has lately died,

Then, like the false and servile crone she was,
She recommenced her prating, with the thought
That by her doctrines she might cozen me
To fool myself with honey licked from thorns,
Advising him that he should call me Friend
Though no true love on me he did bestow.
But he remembered all and told it me;
Though certainly, had he been what she thought,
He had betrayed me. Spite of all she said,
Fair Welcome never worked such treachery.
He gave his solemn oath and word for that,
And also he assured me other ways.

" ALL that you have recounted is most true, "
The barons said. " Well may you keep the oath,
As right and just and proper, that you've made
Against the rich. They certainly will be
But fools if they pay homage to you now.
You'll never be forsworn nor cease to drink
Your piment with the gods, nor suffer shame.
Ladies into whose clutches rich men fall
For them will stinging pepper pulverize
Until they shall bewail their fate. The dames
Will be so courteous that they'll discharge
Your vow; you will no better vicars need.