Most envious man, that grieves at
neighbours
good,
And fond, that joyest in the woe thou hast,
Why wilt not let him passe, that long hath stood 350
Upon the banke, yet wilt thy selfe not passe the flood?
And fond, that joyest in the woe thou hast,
Why wilt not let him passe, that long hath stood 350
Upon the banke, yet wilt thy selfe not passe the flood?
Spenser - Faerie Queene - 1
315
XXXVI
His garment nought but many ragged clouts,
With thornes together pind and patched was,
The which his naked sides he wrapt abouts;
And him beside there lay upon the gras
A drearie corse,? whose life away did pas, 320
All wallowed in his owne yet luke-warme blood,
That from his wound yet welled fresh alas;
In which a rustie knife fast fixed stood,
And made an open passage for the gushing flood.
XXXVII
Which piteous spectacle, approving trew 325
The wofull tale that Trevisan had told,
When as the gentle Redcrosse knight did vew,
With firie zeale he burnt in courage bold,
Him to avenge, before his bloud were cold,
And to the villein said, Thou damned wight, 330
The author of this fact we here behold,
What justice can but judge against thee right,?
With thine owne bloud to price? his bloud, here shed in sight.
XXXVIII
What franticke fit (quoth he) hath thus distraught
Thee, foolish man, so rash a doome to give? 335
What justice? ever other judgement taught,
But he should die, who merites not to live?
None else to death this man despayring drive,
But his owne guiltie mind deserving death.
Is then unjust? to each his due to give? 340
Or let him die, that loatheth living breath?
Or let him die at ease, that liveth here uneath?
XXXIX
Who travels by the wearie wandring way,?
To come unto his wished home in haste,
And meetes a flood, that doth his passage stay, 345
Is not great grace to helpe him over past,
Or free his feet that in the myre sticke fast?
Most envious man, that grieves at neighbours good,
And fond, that joyest in the woe thou hast,
Why wilt not let him passe, that long hath stood 350
Upon the banke, yet wilt thy selfe not passe the flood?
XL
He there does now enjoy eternall rest
And happy ease, which thou dost want and crave,
And further from it daily wanderest:
What if some little paine the passage have, 355
That makes fraile flesh to feare the bitter wave?
Is not short paine well borne, that brings long ease,
And layes the soule to sleepe in quiet grave?
Sleepe after toyle, port after stormie seas,
Ease after warre, death after life does greatly please. 360
XLI
The knight much wondred at his suddeine wit,?
And said, The terme of life is limited,
Ne may a man prolong, nor shorten it;
The souldier may not move from watchfull sted,
Nor leave his stand, untill his Captaine bed. 365
Who life did limit by almightie doome
(Quoth he)? knowes best the termes established;
And he, that points the Centonell his roome,
Doth license him depart at sound of morning droome.
XLII
Is not his deed, what ever thing is donne 370
In heaven and earth? did not he all create
To die againe? all ends that was begonne.
Their times in his eternall booke of fate
Are written sure, and have their certaine date.
Who then can strive with strong necessitie, 375
That holds the world in his still chaunging state,
Or shunne the death ordaynd by destinie?
When houre of death is come, let none aske whence, nor why.
XLIII
The lenger life, I wote the greater sin,
The greater sin, the greater punishment: 380
All those great battels, which thou boasts to win,
Through strife, and blood-shed, and avengement,
Now praysd, hereafter deare thou shalt repent:
For life must life, and blood must blood repay.
Is not enough thy evill life forespent?
XXXVI
His garment nought but many ragged clouts,
With thornes together pind and patched was,
The which his naked sides he wrapt abouts;
And him beside there lay upon the gras
A drearie corse,? whose life away did pas, 320
All wallowed in his owne yet luke-warme blood,
That from his wound yet welled fresh alas;
In which a rustie knife fast fixed stood,
And made an open passage for the gushing flood.
XXXVII
Which piteous spectacle, approving trew 325
The wofull tale that Trevisan had told,
When as the gentle Redcrosse knight did vew,
With firie zeale he burnt in courage bold,
Him to avenge, before his bloud were cold,
And to the villein said, Thou damned wight, 330
The author of this fact we here behold,
What justice can but judge against thee right,?
With thine owne bloud to price? his bloud, here shed in sight.
XXXVIII
What franticke fit (quoth he) hath thus distraught
Thee, foolish man, so rash a doome to give? 335
What justice? ever other judgement taught,
But he should die, who merites not to live?
None else to death this man despayring drive,
But his owne guiltie mind deserving death.
Is then unjust? to each his due to give? 340
Or let him die, that loatheth living breath?
Or let him die at ease, that liveth here uneath?
XXXIX
Who travels by the wearie wandring way,?
To come unto his wished home in haste,
And meetes a flood, that doth his passage stay, 345
Is not great grace to helpe him over past,
Or free his feet that in the myre sticke fast?
Most envious man, that grieves at neighbours good,
And fond, that joyest in the woe thou hast,
Why wilt not let him passe, that long hath stood 350
Upon the banke, yet wilt thy selfe not passe the flood?
XL
He there does now enjoy eternall rest
And happy ease, which thou dost want and crave,
And further from it daily wanderest:
What if some little paine the passage have, 355
That makes fraile flesh to feare the bitter wave?
Is not short paine well borne, that brings long ease,
And layes the soule to sleepe in quiet grave?
Sleepe after toyle, port after stormie seas,
Ease after warre, death after life does greatly please. 360
XLI
The knight much wondred at his suddeine wit,?
And said, The terme of life is limited,
Ne may a man prolong, nor shorten it;
The souldier may not move from watchfull sted,
Nor leave his stand, untill his Captaine bed. 365
Who life did limit by almightie doome
(Quoth he)? knowes best the termes established;
And he, that points the Centonell his roome,
Doth license him depart at sound of morning droome.
XLII
Is not his deed, what ever thing is donne 370
In heaven and earth? did not he all create
To die againe? all ends that was begonne.
Their times in his eternall booke of fate
Are written sure, and have their certaine date.
Who then can strive with strong necessitie, 375
That holds the world in his still chaunging state,
Or shunne the death ordaynd by destinie?
When houre of death is come, let none aske whence, nor why.
XLIII
The lenger life, I wote the greater sin,
The greater sin, the greater punishment: 380
All those great battels, which thou boasts to win,
Through strife, and blood-shed, and avengement,
Now praysd, hereafter deare thou shalt repent:
For life must life, and blood must blood repay.
Is not enough thy evill life forespent?
