Confermeth it perpetually to dure,
And paciently taketh your auenture.
And for the worship of this high feast,
Yet woll I my briddes wise sing,
The sentence of the complaint at the least,
That wofull Mars made at the departing
Fro fresh Venus in a morowning,
When Phebus with his firie torches rede,
Ransaked hath euery louer in his drede.
Whilome the three heauens lorde aboue,
As well by heauenlich reuolucion,
As by desert hath wonne Venus his loue,
And she hath take him in subiection,
And as a maistresse taught him his lesson,
Commaunding him neuer in her seruice,
He were so bold no louer to dispise.
For she forbade him iealousie at all,
And cruelty, and boste, and tyranny,
She made him at her lust so humble & tall,
That when she dained to cast on him her iye,
He tooke in patience to liue or die,
And thus she bridleth him in her maner,
With nothing, but with scorning of her chere.
Who reigneth now in blisse but Venus,
That hath this worthy knight in gouernance
Who singeth now but Mars y• serueth thus,
The faire Venus, causer of pleasaunce,
He bint him to perpetuel obeysaunce,
And she binte her to loue him for euer,
But so be that his trespace it disceuer.
Thus be they kint, & reignen as in heuen,
By loking most, as it fell on a tide,
That by her both assent was set a steuen,
That Mars shall entre as fast as he may glide,
In to her next palais to abide,
Walking his course till she had him ytake,
And he prayed her to hast her for his sake.
Then said he thus, mine herts lady sweete,
Ye know well my mischief in that place,
For sikerly till that I with you meete,
My life stante there in auenture and grace,
But when I see the beaute of your face,
There is no drede of death may do me smert,
For all your lusts is ease to mine hert,
She hath so great compassion of her knight,
That dwelleth in solitude till she come,
For it stode so, that ilke time no wight,
Counsailed him, ne said to him welcome,
That nigh her wit for sorow was ouercome
Wherfore she spedded as fast in her way,
Almost in one day as he did in tway.
The great ioy that was betwix hem two,
When they be mette, there may no tong tel,
There is no more but unto bedde they go,
And thus in ioy and blisse I let hem dwell,
This worthy Mars yt is of knighthood well,
The floure of fairnesse happeth in his arms,
And Venus kisseth Mars the God of arms.
Soiourned hath this Mars, of which I rede
In chambre amidde the palais priuely,
A certaine time, till him fell a drede,
Through Phebus yt was commen hastely,
Within the palais yates sturdely,
With torch in hond, of which yt stremes bright
On Venus chambre, knockeden ful light.
The chambre there as lay this fresh queene,
Depainted was with white boles grete,
And by the light she knew that shon so shene,
That Phebus cam to bren hem with his hete
This silly Venus ny dreint in teares wete,
Enbraseth Mars, and said alas I die,
The torch is come, y• al this world wol wrie.
Vp sterte Mars, him list not to sleepe,
When he his lady herde so complaine,
But for his nature was not for to weepe,
Instede of teares from his eyen twaine,
The firy sparcles sprongen out for paine,
And hente his hauberke that lay him beside,
Flie wold he nought, ne might himself hide.
He throweth on his helme of huge weight,
And girt him with his swerde, & in his honde
His mighty speare, as he was wont to feight,
He shoketh so, that it almost to wonde,
Full heuy was he to walken ouer londe,
He may not hold with Venus company,
But had her flie least Phebus her espy.
O woful Mars alas, what maist thou sain
That in the palais of thy disturbaunce,
Art left behind in peril to be slain,
And yet there to is double thy penaunce,
For she that hath thine hert in gouernance,
Is passed halfe the stremes of thine eyen,
That thou nere swift, wel maist thou wepe and crien.
Now flieth Nenus in to Ciclinius tour,
With void corse, for fear of Phebus light,
Alas and there hath she no socour,
For she ne found ne sey no maner wight,
And eke as there she had but littel might,
Wherefore her selven for to hide and saue,
Within the gate she fledde in to a caue.
Darke was this caue, & smoking as the hell
Nat but two paas within the yate it stood,
A naturel day in darke I let her dwell,
Now wol I speake of Mars furious & wood,
For sorow he wold haue seene his hert blood,
Sith yt he might haue done her no company,
He ne rought not a mite for to die.
So feble he wext for hete and for his wo,
That nigh he swelt, he might vnneth endure
He passeth but a sterre in daies two,
But neuertheles, for al his hevy armure,
He foloweth her that is his liues cure,
For whose departing he tooke greater yre,
Than for all his brenning in the fire.
After he walketh softly a paas,
Complayning that it pitie was to here,