she Received hath, by hope and by reasón, Th’ imprinting of their consolatión, Through which her greatë sorrow gan assuage; She may not always duren in such rage. And eke Arviragus, in all this care, Hath sent his letters home of his welfare, And that he will come hastily again, Or ellës had this sorrow her hearty-slain. Her friendës saw her sorrow gin to slake, And prayed her on knees for Goddë’s sake To come and roamen in their company, Away to drive her darkë fantasy; And finally she granted that request, For well she saw that it was for the best.
Now stood her castle fastë by the sea, And often with her friendës walked she, Her to disport upon the bank on high, There as many a ship and bargë sigh, Sailing their courses, where them list to go. But then was that a parcel of her woe, For to herself full oft, “Alas!” said she, “Is there no ship, of so many as I see, Will bringë home my lord? then were my heart All warish’d of this bitter painë’s smart.” Another timë would she sit and think, And cast her eyen downward from the brink; But when she saw the grisly rockës blake, For very fear so would her heartë quake, That on her feet she might her not sustene: Then would she sit adown upon the green, And piteously into the sea behold, And say right thus, with careful sikës cold: “Eternal God! that through thy purveyánce Leadest this world by certain governance, In idle, as men say, ye nothing make; But, Lord, these grisly fiendly rockës blake, That seem rather a foul confusión Of work, than any fair creatión Of such a perfect wisë God and stable, Why have ye wrought this work unreasonáble? For by this work, north, south, or west, or east, There is not foster’d man, nor bird, nor beast: It doth no good, to my wit, but annoyeth. See ye not, Lord, how mankind it destroyeth? A hundred thousand bodies of mankind Have rockës slain, all be they not in mind; Which mankind is so fair part of thy work, Thou madest it like to thine owen mark. Then seemed it ye had a great cherté Toward mankind; but how then may it be That ye such meanës make it to destroy? Which meanës do no good, but ever annoy. I wot well, clerkës will say as them lest, By arguments, that all is for the best, Although I can the causes not y-know; But thilkë God that made the wind to blow, As