# Romance of the Rose (Ellis)/Chapter 38

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XXXVIII
Unto the Lover Reason shows Dame Fortune’s wheel, and how it goes,6230 Pointing what lack of power hath she O’er men, brave, resolute, and free.
Trust not Fortune “Leave Fortune then to turn her wheel With ceaseless, tireless hand, and deal (Standing upright with banded eyes) Her gifts. One man with wealth she tries To blind, and on him heapeth she Great honour, but with poverty Afflicteth others, and whene’er Capricious fancy seizeth her,6240 Round goes her wheel again. A fool Is he who chafeth ’neath her rule, Neglecting to enjoy the day Of happiness while yet he may, ​For he by power of will alone May scorn her strokes if adverse grown. Fortune endureth not Give ear: A folly most extreme It is that men should Fortune deem A Goddess, up to highest heaven Exalting her, for ne’er was given6250 To her by reason nor by right In paradise a mansion bright; No house enduring hath she got, But one right perilous, God wot.
Amid a sea, of depth profound, Rises a mighty rock, around Whose bases in tumultuous roar The rude waves beat for evermore. The billows never shepherded, Dash ’gainst its sides, and o’er its head,6260 And ever and again nigh drown With thundering burst its high-built crown. Sometimes the giant’s strength awakes, And so the assaulting deluge shakes, That ’tis half vanquished and falls back While draws he breath ’gainst fresh attack. But ever, Proteus-like, his shape Doth change, as one who would escape Cognition of his boisterous foes, And when he lifts his head, he shows6270 A thousand flowerets (like to stars That brighten heaven around the cars Of deities) amidst the tides, When Zephyrus in triumph rides, But when the north wind blows, he reaps With freezing sword the flowers in heaps. ​And blooms and verdure die, as they Draw nigh unto their burgeoning day.
An allegory of Fortune This rock doth bear a fearsome wood Of Strange-grown trees, both bad and good.6280 Sterile is one from crown to root, Another beareth wholesome fruit; The one puts forth fair branches green, Another void of leaves is seen; This showeth blossoms passing fair, That stands of bud or promise bare. And while this flourisheth on high, That other withereth barrenly. If one towards heaven doth raise its head, Another seeks the earth’s cold bed.6290 When buds on one show strong and hale, Those on its fellow shrink and fail. The broom shoots upwards, giant high, While pine and cedar lowly lie Along the earth; shrub, tree, and plant Their natures change in this strange haunt, With variance wide. To dusky grey The verdant laurel fades away, Its brightness lost. The olive tree, So famed for rich fecundity,6300 Stands barren there. The sterile elm The gracious vine doth overwhelm And win her fruit. The willow, bare Erewhile of berries, giveth there Fair foison. Nightingales forsake Their tunefulness, but screech-owls break ​The silence, whose discordant song Gives prophecy of woe and wrong, Sad heralds, clad in hideousness. Of evil happening and distress.6310
Fortune unsatisfying While winter doth to summer grow, And summer fall to winter, flow Two plenteous streams of diverse source, And nought alike of kind or force. The water of the one doth greet All those who drink with savour sweet Beyond compare, and he who tastes Thereof but once, in nowise hastes Him onward, but would gladly stay, Drinking his fill, the livelong day;6320 But yet it quencheth not his thirst, For eagerly as when he first Had ta’en a sup, he drinketh still As though no draught his pouch could fill. The more one drinks the more doth he Desire to quaff unendingly, Nor doth his burning thirst abate, Though he become intoxicate.
The strongest words were weak and waste To tell the sweet enticing taste6330 These wretched sots experience, who, Their drouth unquenched, must still pursue Their maddening, monstrous draughts, for thirst Infernal still, like souls accurst, Consumes them, till at last they fall Inflate, like victims dropsical.
​The rivers of Fortune In rippling wavelets speeds along This gentle stream with tinkling song, More musically sweet, I ween, Than ever broke from tambourine6340 Or silvery cymbal. Those who stroll Beside the flowery meads where roll These singing waters haste anear, Impatient such sweet sounds to hear More perfectly, but when the side Attain they of the murmuring tide, Can nowise find the manner how To reach the farther bank, for trow Ye well that when their feet they set (No more than just enough to wet6350 Their shoe-latch) in the trancing wave, And drink one drop, then nought can save Their hearts from lust of that sweet drink, And plunging in o’erwhelmed they sink.
Others, more bold, from off the brim Leap hardily, and think to swim Across the current; from among The waves they shout, in accents strong, The joyousness of their success; But suddenly a wavelet’s stress6360 Carries them back, and there on dry And arid earth, heart-sick, they lie.
And now will I relate to thee The other stream’s strange history. Its waves are sulphurous, black and grim, No birds flit o’er it, no fish swim ​Within its depths, the while its floor With filthy scum is surfaced o’er. No purling brook, no gentle tide It floweth in, but billows gride6370 Tumultuous, with a dreadful roar Sounding across from shore to shore. Like to the threatening thunder’s crash When heaven and earth together clash. Above these ruffling waves unclean, Kind Zephyr’s wing hath ne’er been seen To poise or lightly kiss the stream, But harshly doth the north wind scream In triumph there, and buffeteth The surface dark with angry breath.6380
Fortune’s votaries Its force hath dug dim ravines deep, Whence towering mountains all a-heap Rise up on either side, and wage Unceasing war with furious rage Of wind and storm, which never stay Their combat fierce through night or day. Along the bank is spread a crowd Of wretched folk, whose wailings loud Burden the air, while out their eyes Gush forth their griefs and miseries.6390 For, ever they, convulsed with fear, Behold the engulfing water near, And if within it one should dip His body till above the hip It touch his waist, then swift, below Its surface dragged, above him flow The raging waters. But upcast Are some, above whose heads have passed ​The waves, thrown back upon the brink; But, rashly venturing, many sink6400 For ever ’neath the o’er whelming flood, And from the rank and noisome mud. That clogs its cavern depths, no more Shall gain the light, or win the shore. This horrible flood doth boil and churn, With many a vagrant twist and turn, Through gorges numberless, and thus, At last its waters poisonous, That reek with odours foul, and steam With noisome vapours, meet the stream6410 So pure and limpid, and to it Their own vile mirous filth transmit, Fulfilled of direful pestilence, And sickening every finer sense; The waters of the pleasant pool Flow on no longer calm and cool, And that same stream that higher gave Forth perfumes delicate and suave Becomes a fetid torrent, curst With odours that from hell might burst.6420
The house of Fortune Not on the crest of mountain tall, But where its flank doth sloping fall, Above the plain, in crumbling state, As ready to succumb to fate, Is Fortune’s mansion dight. No rage There is of stormy winds that wage Wild war, that falls not on it. Fierce And strong the tempests are that pierce That dwelling. Rarely Zephyr soft Descendeth gently from aloft6430 ​To visit it with gentle breath, And lull those blasts that tell of death. Both bright and drear One half the house stands high and straight, The other poor and desolate; And thus it seems as though it hung Ready ere long to fall among The rocks beneath. One part so fair And glorious looks, that man hath ne’er Seen nobler mansion; walls and roof Are wrought of one same warp and woof:6440 Silver and gold, with gems beset Resplendent, (whence men oft-times get Great virtue), never mortal eye Saw palace built more gorgeously. The other part is raised of mud Commingled with decaying wood; Thin fragile walls with many a flaw, And broken roof of mouldering straw. And thus, while scarce can words express The symmetry and gorgeousness6450 That one side shows, the other mean And rotten looks, within it seen Five hundred thousand cracks and gaps Betwixt the worthless bits and scraps Whereof ’tis built, and to its base It tottereth, as in parlous case.
Within this mansion, bright and drear, Dame Fortune makes from year to year Her home. Whene’er she hath desire The minds of mortals to inspire6460 ​Fortune’s vicissitudes With wish to honour her, she goes To that side of the house which shows So gorgeously, and dwelleth there In queenly state, attired in fair Rich regal vesting; passing sweet Of perfumes, and of colours meet For Iris’ self; such tints indeed As dyers, or by herb or seed Produce, for costliest garments made, In silk, or wool, or rich brocade,6470 For wealthy folk, who dearly love To vaunt themselves in pride above Their fellow mortals. Thus her snares Doth Fortune set, but never cares One straw for living man when she Is ’tired in all her bravery. When looks she round and notes her great Honour and wealth, and proud estate; So madly then is she misled, That seemeth she to lose her head6480 Outright, and dream that none on earth But she have smallest count or worth, Oblivious that on her descend Oft-times rude strokes ere falls the end.
Then wandereth she about the house, Till comes she where ’tis ruinous And all in cue to fall piecemeal, Yet ceaseless moveth on her wheel. Then stumbling gropes she, head low bent, As though she saw not where she went;6490 ​And when she finds her fallen a-down, Straightway both cheer and broidered gown Are changed, and all at once of dress She finds herself an orphaness; And all her pride of state subdued, There stands she, as a blind-worm nude; All she possessed hath vanishèd, And now doth nought her need bestead. Then seeing her estate so low, All shameless seeketh she to go6500 Beneath the bordel’s roof to hide Her head, for sorrow humbleth pride. Then mourneth she, with floods of tears, The splendours now no longers hers— The worldly pleasures past and gone. The gorgeous robes she woned to don.
Fortune’s last estate Alas, for Fortune! jade perverse! Full many a noble man shall curse Her hand which cast him in the mire, A prey to woe and misery dire,6510 While vilest men she sets on high, Bestowing on them lavishly Honour, and dignity, and power, Only that when their little hour Is past, she suddenly away May snatch the gifts of yesterday. O were not then the ancients wise, Who Fortune drew with blindfold eyes.”