VIII.
After the departure of this gentle lady it pleased the Lord of the Angels to call unto His glory a lady young and of exceeding gentle aspect, who had been very lovely in the above-mentioned city; whose body I saw lying without its soul, in midst of many ladies who were weeping very pitifully. Then, remembering that formerly I had seen her in company with that most gentle one, I could not restrain some tears; nay, weeping, I resolved to say some words about her death, in guerdon for that I had seen her sometimes with my lady. And thereon I touched somewhat in the last part of the words that I said of her, as plainly appears to him who understands them. And I devised then these two sonnets; the first of which begins, Lovers, lament; the second, Discourteous death: —
Lovers, lament, since Love himself now cries,
Hearing what cause ‘t is maketh him to weep.
Love seëth ladies mourn in sorrow deep,
Showing their bitter grieving through their eyes;
Because discourteous Death, on gentle heart
Working his cruel, unrelenting ways,
Hath all despoiled which in the world wins praise
For gentle dame, excepting honor’s part.
Hear ye what honor Love to her did pay;
For him in real form I saw lament
Above the lovely image of the dead;
And often toward the heaven he raised his head,
Whereto the gentle soul had made ascent
Which had been mistress of a shape so gay.
This first sonnet is divided into three parts. In the first, I call and solicit the liegemen of Love to weep; and I say that their Lord weeps, and that, hearing the cause why he weeps, they should be the more ready to listen to me. In the second, I relate the cause. In the third, I speak of certain honor that Love paid to this lady. The second part begins here: “Love seëth:” the third, here: “Hear ye.”
Discourteous Death, of clemency the foe,
Mother from old of woe,
Thou judgment irresistible, severe,
Since sorrow to this heart thou dost not spare,
Therefore in grief I go,
And blaming thee my very tongue outwear.
And since I wish of grace to strip thee bare,
Behoves me to declare
The wrong of wrongs in this thy guilty blow;
Not that the folk do not already know,
But to make each thy foe,
Who henceforth shall be nurtured with Love’s care,
From out the world thou courtesy hast ta’en,
And virtue, which in woman is to praise;
And in youth’s gayest days
The charm of love thou hast untimely slain.
Who is this lady I will not declare,
Save as her qualities do make her known;
Who merits heaven, alone
May have the hope her company to share.
This sonnet is divided into four parts. In the first I call Death by certain names proper to her; in the second, speaking to her, I tell the reason why I am moved to reproach her; in the third, I revile her; in the fourth, I turn to speak to an indefinite person, although definite as regards my meaning. The second part begins here: “Since sorrow;” the third, here: “And since I wish;” the fourth, with “Who merits.”