And double gates it had which opened wide,
By which both in and out men moten1 pass;
Th' one fair and fresh, the other old and dried:
Old Genius the porter of them was,
Old Genius, the which a double nature has.*
He letteth in, he letteth out to wend 2
All that to come into the world desire:
A thousand thousand naked babes attend
About him day and night, wnich do require
That he with fleshly weeds would them attire:
Such as him list, such as eternal fate
Ordained hath, he clothes with sinful mire,3
And sendeth forth to live in mortal state,
Till they again return back by the hinder gate.
After that they again returnéd been,
They in that Garden planted be again,
And grow afresh, as they had never seen
Fleshly corruption nor mortal pain:
Some thousand years so do they there remain,
And then of him are clad with other hue,1
Or sent into the changeful world again,
Till thither they return where first they grew: So, like a wheel, around they run from old to new.
Ne needs there gardener to set or sow,
To plant or prune; for of their own accord
All things, as they created were, do grow,
And yet remember well the mighty word
Which first was spoken by th' Almighty Lord,
That bade them to increase and multiply:
Ne do they need, with water of the ford5
*See Book II. Canto XII. Stanza XLVIII.
Or of the clouds, to moisten their roots dry; For in themselves eternal moisture they imply.1
Infinite shapes of creatures there are bred,
And uncouth forms, which none yet ever knew:
And every sort is in a sundry bed
Set by itself, and rank'd in comely rew;
Some fit for reasonable souls t' indue;3
Some made for beasts, some made for birds to
And all the fruitful spawn of fishes' hue
In endless ranks along enrangéd were,
That seem'd the ocean could not contain them
there.
Daily they grow, and daily forth are sent
Into the world, it to replenish more;
Yet is the stock not lessened nor spent,
But still remains in everlasting store
As it at first created was of
For in the wide womb of the world there lies,
In hateful darkness and in deep horror,
An huge eternal Chaos, which supplies
The substances of Nature's fruitful progenies.
All things from thence do their first being fetch,
And borrow matter whereof they are made;
Which, whenas form and feature it does ketch,a
Becomes a body, and doth then invade 5
The state of life out of the grisly shade.
That substance is eterne, and bideth so;
Ne, when the life decays and form does fade,
Doth it consume and into nothing go,
But changéd is and often alter'd to and fro.
The substance is not chang'd nor altered,
But th' only form and outward fashíon;
For every substance is conditioned
To change her hue, and sundry forms to don,1
Meet for her temper and complexion:
For forms are variable, and decay
By course of kind 2 and by occasion;
And that fair flower of beauty fades away,
As doth the lily fresh before the sunny ray.
Great enemy to it, and t' all the rest
That in the Garden of Adonis springs,
Is wicked Time; who with his scythe addrest
Does mow the flow'ring herbs and goodly things,
And all their glory to the ground down flings,
Where they do wither and are foully marr'd:
He flies about, and with his flaggy wings
Beats down both leaves and buds without regard,
Ne ever pity may relent his malice hard.
Yet pity often did the gods relent,
To see so fair things marr'd and spoiléd quite:
And their great mother Venus did lament
The loss of her dear brood, her dear delight:
Her heart was pierc'd with pity at the sight,
When walking through the garden them she saw,
Yet no'te she find redress for such despite:
For all that lives is subject to that law:
All things decay in time, and to their end do draw.
But were it not that Time their troubler is,
All that in this delightful Garden grows
Should happy be, and have immortal bliss:
For here all plenty and all pleasure flows;
And sweet Love gentle fits1 amongst them throws, EmoWithout fell rancour or fond jealousy: Frankly each paramour his leman 2 knows; Each bird his mate; ne3 any does envý Their goodly merriment and gay felicity.
There is continual spring, and harvest there
Continual, both meeting at one time:
For both the boughs do laughing blossoms bear,
And with fresh colours deck the wanton prime,1
And eke at once the heavy trees they climb,
Which seem to labour under their fruit's load:
The whiles the joyous birds make their pastime
Amongst the shady leaves, their sweet abode,
And their true loves without suspicion tell abroad.
Right in the middest of that Paradise
There stood a stately mount, on whose round top
A gloomy grove of myrtle trees did rise,
Whose shady boughs sharp steel did never lop,
Nor wicked beasts their tender buds did crop,
But like a garland compassed the height,
And from their fruitful sides sweet gum did drop,
That all the ground, with precious dew bedight,6
Threw forth most dainty odours and most sweet
delight.
And in the thickest covert of that shade
There was a pleasant arbour, not by art
But of the trees' own inclination made,
Which knitting their rank branches part to part,
With wanton ivy-twine entrayld7 athwart,
And eglantine and caprifole1 among,
Fashion'd above within their inmost part,
That neither Phoebus' beams could through them throng,
Nor Æolus' sharp blast could work them any wrong.
And all about grew every sort of flower,
To which sad lovers were transform'd of yore;
Fresh Hyacinthus, Phoebus' paramour
And dearest love;
Foolish Narciss, that likes the wat❜ry shore;
Sad Amaranthus, made a flower but late,
Sad Amaranthus, in whose purple gore
Me seems I see Amintas' wretched fate,*
To whom sweet poet's verse hath given endless date.
There wont fair Venus often to enjoy
Her dear Adonis' joyous company,
And reap sweet pleasure of the wanton boy:
There yet, some say, in secret he does lie,
Lappéd in flowers and precious spicery,
By her hid from the world, and from the skill
Of Stygian gods, which do her love envý;
But she herself, whenever that she will,
Possesseth him, and of his sweetness takes her fill:
And sooth,2 it seems, they say; for he may not
For ever die, and ever buried be
In baleful night where all things are forgot;
All3 be he subject to mortality,
Yet is eterne in mutability,
And by succession made perpetual,
Transformed oft, and changéd diversly:
Supposed to allude to the death of Sir Philip Sidney.
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