# Romance of the Rose (Ellis)/Chapter 92

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How Zeuxis, famed of old, did try To paint fair Nature perfectly; And on his glorious task intent Great care and labour freely spent.
Zeuxis, the painter, strove in vain. That he might Nature’s skill attain,16960 Who one time did for models take Five virgins, who for beauty’s sake Had all comparison defied, (Although their equals far and wide Were sought, who for perfection rare Of body might with them compare,) When would he for the temple paint A picture that might scorn complaint ​Or question, and before him stood The five all unadorned and nude16970 As Venus’ self, that he in them Might seek to spy defect or wem, Whether of body, limbs, or skin. Nature beyond imitation And signally he failed therein, As all may read in Tully’s book Of rhetoric, who care to look Within its pages. Zeuxis nought Could equal these whenso he sought, Though in the art of painting he To no man ever bowed the knee,16980 So deft is Nature’s subtle skill, Who doth the earth with fairness fill. Zeuxis, nor any other who Hath e’er been born could reach thereto. How well soe’er they understood All Nature’s loveliness, and would Employ their hands to imitate Her works—thereof enamorate. For God alone it is who can Such glories work, not puny man.16990 Most gladly would I, dared I hope. Such matters stood within my scope, Describe all Nature unto you, But power of words would lack thereto, Though to that task, surhuman I, Addressed my spirit earnestly A hundred times: nay, nay, far more Than I shall e’er gain credit for; Presumption were it most extreme That I should ever dare to dream17000 ​That such a mighty work could be Achieved by my capacity. Nature surpasses all thought Far better were it I had died Than venture to indulge such pride As think that I could comprehend, For all the pains I might expend. Fair Nature’s glorious paradise— Beyond all words—past thought of price; Nor though aloft my thoughts had flown. That I should dare to write thereon;17010 No—in my spirit so am I Abashed, that fear my tongue doth tie, And so doth shame my being steep, That silence it behoves me keep; For e’en as more and more I think Of Nature’s loveliness, I shrink From lauding, in my faltering phrase, Her perfect works and wondrous ways.
When God, whose glory is above All measurement, in bounteous love17020 Created Nature, he did make Of her a fountain (whence should break Unceasingly a thousand rills) Of beauty, which the whole world fills. This fount wells ever and cannot By time be wasted as I wot, More high than heaven, and than the sea More deep, ’tis called immensity. How then describe that body or That countenance, that hath far more17030 Of beauty than the fleur-de-lis. Which we new blown in May-tide see? ​The rose is not more red, more white No snow which clads the mountain height, But ’tis folly to compare That which beyond all thought is fair, And Nature’s beauty doth o’ergo All that man’s heart or mind can know.
When Nature heard the Barons swear Their solemn oath, it brought to her17040 Great solace for the woe that weighed Her heart down, yet scarce unafraid She cried:
Nature.
Nature’s repentance Alas! what have I done? On me returns, unhappy one! The memory of a fault that I Committed in days long gone by When first this beauteous world was made, And justly had by penance paid Therefor, since fain am I to win Pardon for my unwitting sin.17050 Alas! how many a thousand time Must I repent me of my crime! How have I then my pains employed? Am I of wit so far devoid, That I who thought my friends to serve, And thence their praise and thanks deserve, Must yet acknowledge in the end That ’tis my foes whom I befriend? My kindness brings me but distress.
The Author.
Then to her priest doth she confess, Who in her chapel hastes to say The mass, although in no new way, For alway had he service due Performed, since he was priest thereto. Boldly, in place of other mass. The priest, whose knowledge doth surpass All others, called before the queen Each creature that hath ever been Born in this mortal world, then writ Within his book whate’er of it17070 Great Nature unto him revealed, Which else had been a mystery sealed.