The Poetical Works of Edmund Spenser, Volume 5 | Page 2

silence and forgetfulnesse. Whome chieflie to satisfie, or els to avoide that fowle blot of unthankefulnesse, I have conceived this small Poeme, intituled by a generall name of _The Worlds Ruines;_ yet speciallie intended to the renowming of that noble race from which both you and he sprong, and to the eternizing of some of the chiefe of them late deceased. The which I dedicate unto your La. as whome it most speciallie concerneth, and to whome I acknowledge my selfe bounden by manie singular favours and great graces. I pray for your honourable happinesse, and so humblie kisse your handes.
Your Ladiships ever
humblie at commaund,
E.S.
* * * * *
THE RUINES OF TIME.
It chaunced me on* day beside the shore Of silver streaming Thamesis to bee, Nigh where the goodly Verlame stood of yore, Of which there now remaines no memorie, Nor anie little moniment to see, 5 By which the travailer that fares that way This once was she may warned be to say. [* _On_, one.]
There, on the other side, I did behold A Woman sitting sorrowfullie wailing, Rending her yeolow locks, like wyrie golde 10 About her shoulders careleslie downe trailing, And streames of teares from her faire eyes forth railing*: In her right hand a broken rod she held, Which towards heaven shee seemd on high to weld, [* _Railing_, flowing.]
Whether she were one of that rivers nymphes, 15 Which did the losse of some dere Love lament, I doubt; or one of those three fatall impes Which draw the dayes of men forth in extent; Or th'auncient genius of that citie brent*; But, seeing her so piteouslie perplexed, 20 I, to her calling, askt what her so vexed. [* _Brent_, burnt.]
"Ah! what delight," quoth she, "in earthlie thing, Or comfort can I, wretched creature, have? Whose happines the heavens envying, From highest staire to lowest step me drave, 25 And have in mine owne bowels made my grave, That of all nations now I am forlorne*, The worlds sad spectacle, and Fortunes scorne." [* _Forlorne_, forsaken.]
Much was I mooved at her piteous plaint, And felt my heart nigh riven in my brest 30 With tender ruth to see her sore constraint; That, shedding teares, a while I still did rest, And after did her name of her request. "Name have I none," quoth she, "nor anie being, Bereft of both by Fates uniust decreeing. 35
"I was that citie which the garland wore Of Britaines pride, delivered unto me By Romane victors which it wonne of yore; Though nought at all but ruines now I bee, And lye in mine owne ashes, as ye see, 40 VERLAME I was; what bootes it that I was, Sith now I am but weedes and wastfull gras?
"O vaine worlds glorie, and unstedfast state Of all that lives on face of sinfull earth! Which, from their first untill their utmost date, 45 Tast no one hower of happines or merth; But like as at the ingate* of their berth They crying creep out of their mothers woomb, So wailing backe go to their wofull toomb. [* _Ingate_, entrance, beginning.]
"Why then dooth flesh, a bubble-glas of breath, 50 Hunt after honour and advauncement vaine, And reare a trophee for devouring death With so great labour and long-lasting paine, As if his daies for ever should remaine? Sith all that in this world is great or gaie 55 Doth as a vapour vanish and decaie.
"Looke backe, who list, unto the former ages, And call to count what is of them become. Where be those learned wits and antique sages, Which of all wisedome knew the perfect somme? 60 Where those great warriors, which did overcome The world with conquest of their might and maine, And made one meare* of th'earth and of their raine? [* _Meare_, boundary.]
"What nowe is of th'Assyrian Lyonesse, Of whome no footing now on earth appeares? 65 What of the Persian Beares outragiousnesse, Whose memorie is quite worne out with yeares? Who of the Grecian Libbard* now ought heares, That over-ran the East with greedie powre, And left his whelps their kingdomes to devoure? 70 [* _Libbard_, leopard]
"And where is that same great seven-headded beast, That made all nations vassals of her pride, To fall before her feete at her beheast, And in the necke of all the world did ride? Where doth she all that wondrous welth nowe hide? 75 With her own weight downe pressed now shee lies, And by her heaps her hugenesse testifies.
"O Rome, thy ruine I lament and rue, And in thy fall my fatall overthrowe, That whilom was, whilst heavens with equall vewe 80 Deignd to behold me and their gifts bestowe, The picture of thy pride in pompous shew: And of the whole world as thou wast the empresse, So I of