No More Learning

In the third place, and fourth, where trickling through
Small rills, the water quits that octagon,
Two ladies are there, equal in their birth,
Equal in country, honour, charms and worth.

LXXXVI
One was Elizabeth, one Eleanor,
And if we credit what that marble said,
Manto's so glorious city which such store
Sets my melodious Maro, whom she bred,
More vaunts not him, nor reverences more,
Than these fair dames her poet's honoured head.
The first of these her hallowed feet had set
On Peter Bembo and James Sadolet.

LXXXVII
Arelio and Castiglion, a polished pair,
That other lady, in mid air, sustain.
Their names were carved upon the marble fair,
Then both unknown, and now so fames a twain.
Next was a lady, that from Heaven shall heir
As mighty virtue as on earth doth reign,
Or ever yet hath reigned, in any age,
Well proved by Fortune in her love or rage.

LXXXVIII
Inscribed in characters of gold is here
Lucretia Bentivoglia, and among
Her praises, 'tis declared Ferrara's peer
Joys that such daughter doth to him belong.
Her shall Camillus voice, and far and near
Reno and Felsina shall hear his song,
Wrapt in as mighty wonder at the strain
As that wherewith Amphrysus heard his swain;

LXXXIX
And one, through whom that city's name (where sweet
Isaurus salts his wave in larger vase)
Fame shall from Africa to Ind repeat,
From southern tracts to Hyperborean ways,
More than because Rome's gold in that famed seat
Was weighed, whereof perpetual record says
Guy Posthumus -- about whose honoured brow
Phoebus and Pallas bind a double bough.

XC
Dian is next in order of that train.
"Regard not (said the marble) is she wear
A haughty port; for in her heart, humane
The matron is, as in her visage, fair.
Learned Celio Calcagnine in lofty strain
Her glories and fair name abroad shall bear,
And Juba's and Moneses' kingdom hear,
And Spain and farthest Ind, his trumpet clear;

XCI
And a Cavallo shall make such a font
Of poetry in famed Ancona run,
As that winged courser on Parnassus' mount;
Or was it on the hill of Helicon?
'Tis Beatrice, who next uprears her front,
Whereof so speaks the writing on the stone:
"Her consort Beatrice, while she has breath,
Blesses, and leaves unhappy at her death;

XCII
"Yea, Italy; that with her triumphs bright,
Without that lady fair shall captive be. "
A lofty song appears of her to indite
A lord of the Correggio's noble tree;
And, Benedeo's pride, Timotheus hight.
Between his banks, descending to the sea,
By their joint music shall the stream be stopt,
Whose trees erewhile the liquid amber dropt.

XCIII
Between this and that lofty column's place
Into fair Borgia fashioned (as was said)
Of aspect so distinguished, of such grace,
A lady was, of alabaster made,
That, hiding in a simple veil her face,
In sable, without gems or gold arraid,
She, 'mid the brightest, flung her light as far,
As amid lesser fires the Cyprian star.
XCIV
None knows, observing her with steadfast view,
If she of charms or grace have fuller store,
Whether her visage most majestic shew,
Or beam with genius or with beauty more.
"He that would speak -- would speak her praises true --
(Declares in fine the sculptured marble's lore)
The fairest of emprizes would intend,
But never bring his noble task to end. "

XCV
Albeit such grace and passing sweetness shewed
Her fair and well wrought image, she disdain
Appeared to nurse, that one of wit so rude
Should dare to sing her praise in humble strain,
As he that only without comrade stood,
I know not why, her statue to sustain,
The marble all those other names revealed.
That pair's alone the artist had concealed.

XCVI
The statues in the middle form a round,
The floor whereof dry stalks of coral pave;
Most pleasant, cool, and grateful, is that ground;
So rendered by the pure and crystal wave.
Which vent without in other channel found;
And issued forth in many a stream, to lave
A mead of azure, white, and yellow hue;
Gladdening the plants that on their margins grew.

XCVII
Conversing with his courteous host, the peer
Sate at the board, and oft and often prayed,
That without more delay the cavalier
Would keep the promise he whilere had made;
And marking, ever and anon, his cheer,
Observes his heart with some deep woe downweighed.
For not a moment 'mid their converse slips,
But what a burning sigh is on his lips.

XCVIII
Oft with desire was good Rinaldo stung
To ask that sorrow's cause, and the request
Was almost on the gentle warrior's tongue,
And there by courteous modesty represt.
Now at their banquet's close a youth, among
The menial crew, on whom that charge did rest,
Placed a gold cup before the paladin,
Filled full of gems without, of wine within.

XCIX
The host then somedeal smiling, from the board
Looked up at Aymon's son; but who this while
Well marked him, as he eyed Montalban's lord,
Had deemed him more disposed to weep than smile.
"So oft reminded, to maintain my word,
'Tis time meseems (said he, that owned the pile)
To shew the touchstone for a woman's love,
Which needs to wedded man must welcome prove.

C
"Ne'er, in my judgment, should the married dame
Be from espial by her lord released;
Thus shall he know if honour or if blame
His portion is; if he is man or beast.
The weight of horns, though coupled with such shame,
Is of all burdens upon the earth the least.
While well-nigh all behold his antlers spread,
He feels them not who has them on his head.

CI
"If certain of thy wife's fidelity,
Thou hast more ground to prize and hold her dear
Than one, whose wife is evil known to be,
Or husband that is still in doubt and fear.