# Romance of the Rose (Ellis)/Chapter 91

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How Nature’s stithy doth supply Earth’s sons and daughters constantly, For fear the race of men were spent, If thereof proved she negligent.
A nd while the barons rent the air With shouts, as this great oath they sware, Nature, who tendeth everything That lives ’neath heaven’s blue sheltering. Into her workshop entered straight, Where swinketh she both rathe and late,16650 To forge such pieces as may be Used for the continuity ​Of life; for she doth mould things so That ne’er shall any species know The power of death, but as one dies Forthwith another may arise To fill his place. In vain doth death With hurrying footsteps spend his breath; Nature’s method So closely Nature followeth him, That if some few are by his grim16660 And massive club destroyed who are His due, (for some of them no bar Oppose to him, but readily Give welcome wheresoe’er they be, Wasting themselves in common course, While others through their waste gain force) When he perchance doth fondly think That one and all his cup must drink, He is deceived, for though he catch One here, another there doth hatch.16670 This one he taketh on the right, But on the left a new one’s dight. If Death perchance the father kill, Mother, or son, or daughter still Remain, though they the father dead Have seen, and when their day is sped, They too must fall beneath death’s power, Nought stays the inevitable hour; Nor subtlest leechdom, vow, nor prayer. Nephews and nieces straightway fare16680 Afar, with hurrying feet, upbuoyed With hope they may dread death avoid. One doth him to the dance betake, Another doth the minster make ​His refuge, and a third the school, While a fourth bends him ’neath the rule Of merchandise, or arts, which he Perchance had studied formerly. And some will chase off care with fine Luxurious meats and luscious wine.16690 While others with desire to fly From death or moveless destiny, You may on prancing steeds behold. Their stirrups bright with glistering gold; Thinking that thus they may escape More speedily Death’s grisly shape. Another on frail planks doth set His hope, and trusts thereby to get O’er sea, if so the stars avail To guide his boat and help him sail16700 Afar from death. Another tries By base hypocrisy and lies ’Neath guise of prayer to give the slip To death when he his foot would trip; Though of a truth must all men know His life by what his actions show, And thus it is that all men try Vainly the grip of Death to fly.
None escape Death But he, with hideous blackened face. To all these fugitives gives chase,16710 Until he treadeth on their heels. And each in turn his weapon feels At ten years, twenty, or two score, Or may be double that or more, Nay, some to four score years and ten Escape, or five score, but all men ​His foot doth overtake at last, And though it seem as though he passed Some few, he turneth him again To strike them down; futile and vain16720 Is leechcraft in the end, each one He catcheth when his course is run. Nay, even the great physicians he Doth seize, how skilled soe’er they be. Hippocrates and Galen eke, Though strong of wit, ’gainst death were weak. Constantine, Razis, Avicene, All bowed ’neath his strong rule, I ween, For far though men may run. Death will With tireless foot run further still,16730 For he, whom nought can satisfy, Will as voracious glutton try All to devour, and therefore he Pursues them over land and sea. Yet howsoever much he strive. He ne’er all living things can drive At once within his net, nor shape His snares so well that none escape. The Phœnix For if but only one remain, That one will soon bring forth again;16740 And this we through the Phœnix know, Which, though but one, anew doth grow Unerringly.
On all the earth One Phœnix only comes to birth In five-and-twenty score of years; And when the wondrous creature nears Its end, it builds a funeral pyre Of spices sweet, then setteth fire ​Thereto, and burns itself to dust, In such wise, as ’twould seem it must16750 Perish, but straight doth it arise From out its ashes and bright skies Seeketh once more, and so ’tis done By God’s behest, that soon as one Is dead, forthwith Dame Nature straight To fill its place doth one create Unceasingly, for did she not The species must be sped, I wot, And so ’twould come about, I ween, No Phœnix in the world were seen.16760 But as ’tis, though a thousand died, Nature another doth provide. And in likewise doth everything That dies, through Nature once more spring To life anew. Beneath the moon Whatever fails shall late or soon Revive if only one remain From whence the race new life may gain, Nature abhors death For Nature, pitiful and good, Abhors and hates Death’s envious mood,16770 Who ruthlessly would mar and break The fairest thing her skill doth make, And seeing nought more fair can be, Her own form ever stampeth she On all her works, as men who mint New coins, put on them their imprint, And form and colour give to each; And thereto striveth Art to reach In copying Nature’s models, though Such perfect work no man can show.16780 ​Art, falling on his knees before Dame Nature humbly doth implore, Beseech, and earnestly require In suppliant form, that she inspire His heart, if but in small degree. Art inferior to Nature How he may copy carefully Her handiwork, and reproduce Its form, for ornament or use, Acknowledging inferior far His works to be than Nature’s are.16790 Each method Art doth closely watch And painfully essay to catch Of Nature’s working, as an ape His doings upon man’s doth shape; But vainly, vainly, Art may try To come near Nature’s mastery. To nought that through man’s hand doth live Can he her touch supernal give. For Art, though he no labour shirk To imitate great Nature’s work,16800 And set his hand to every kind Of thing he may around him find, Of whatsoever sort it be, Painting and decking curiously (And none of all the arts men leave Untried, but paint, dye, carve and weave) Armed warriors on their coursers dight, Adorned and trapped in colours bright, Purple and yellow, green and blue, And many another varied hue;16810 Fair birds that pipe ’mid branches green, And fish in crystal waters seen, ​And all the wilding beasts that roam In forest haunts, their native home; And flowers and herbs in sunny glades, Which merry youths and gladsome maids Go forth in pleasant days of spring To gather in their wandering; Tame birds, and beasts all unafraid, And games and dances ’neath the shade,16820 And noble dames in vesture fair, In metal, wax, or wood with care Portrayed, as they in life might stand, And lovers clasping hand with hand: But ne’er on panel, cloth, or wall, Can subtlest art, whate’er befal, Make Nature’s figures live and move, Or speak, or feel joy, grief, or love.
Of Al­chemy Or if of alchemy Art learn So much that he can metals turn16830 To varying colours, ne’er can he Work them that they transmuted be, Unless he by his skill may lead Them back to that whence they proceed, Nor working deftly till he die Can pierce the subtle mystery Of Nature. Nay, that he attain The knowledge to transmute again Metals to primary estate ’Twere needful first to calculate16840 Their qualities of tempering If he would his elixir bring To issue good, and thence produce Pure metal for his later use. ​But those who wot it best agree How great an art is alchemy, And whoso gives thereto his mind In study wondrous things shall find; For as in every species we Find parts which taken separately16850 Are isolated, yet compose One body when these join with those, And this with that doth ever change Throughout all Nature’s varying range, And in such fashion they revolve Till that doth into this resolve Its nature, and they reappear In different guise to what they were, Ere purged and tried. Nature’s mysteries Behold we not What different form the fern hath got16860 When ’tis by fire to ash reduced, And straightway thence clear glass produced By depuration, as we learn? And yet we know glass is not fern, And none would say that fern is glass. And when we note the lightning pass Which thunder brings, why do we see Stones from the clouds fall presently Which are not formed of stone at all? Would we know this we needs must call16870 On learned men, for they alone Can say why vapours turn to stone, And how ’tis things so wide apart Are changed by Nature or man’s art. And so may men change metals who Know with their substance what to do, ​Drawing the dross apart from gold Till nothing base the metals hold, And brought together then shall be Pure metals by affinity.16880 Fine gold is of its special kind, However Nature hath combined Aught else therewith in divers ways Which ’neath its mother’s bosom stays Entombed, till ’tis, when time hath worn Of sulphur and quicksilver born. For so by learned books we’re taught. Alchemical science Thence men have knowledge duly sought, And whosoe’er thereby hath found The means these spirits to compound,16890 And cause them so to mix and lie That they no more apart can fly, But in one mass with welding sure Together come, purged clear and pure, And force the sulphur to lie dead, Coloured at will, or white or red, That man shall have, who worketh so, All metals ’neath his power, I trow. And thus of quicksilver, fine gold Those make who perfect knowledge hold16900 Of alchemy, and colour add And weight, through things that may be had At little cost, and precious stones From gold men make, whose worth atones For all the labour. In likewise Men may with subtle art devise How to pure silver may be turned All baser metals, when they’ve learned ​By means of drugs, strong, clear, and fine, To bring to end this art divine.16910 But this alone is for the ken Of learned and right worthy men, Who labour hard, nor seek to shirk The perfecting of Nature’s work. Quacks and impostors strive in vain, To them her marvels sealed remain.
Nature’s distress Then busy Nature, whose desire Is ever to keep bright the fire Of life in all her works, raised high Her voice and wept so plaintively,16920 That not a piteous heart and tender Beats but would fain its tribute render To her deep grief, the which so keen And deep was for one fault I ween, That prompting strong, she felt to shirk Her duties and forego her work, But that she greatly feared offence To give her lord by indolence. It little needs to seek what thing Upon her heart such suffering16930 And misery brought. Gladly would I Apply myself ententively All Nature to describe to you Deemed I my wit sufficed thereto. My wit! alas! what have I said? For none of those wise men, long dead, Great Aristotle or Plato, Who knew far more than most men know, Either by written word or speech, Could unto that great secret reach;16940 ​Algus, or Ptolemy, or Euclid, From whom scarce anything was hid, In vain might exercise their wit, Therefrom would grow small benefit, Though they should boldly undertake Research profound and long to make. Nay, e’en Pygmalion might essay In vain her fairness to portray; Parrhasius and Apelles eke, The secrets of Nature Great masters both, might vainly seek16950 Her wondrous beauties to express, And show forth all her loveliness; Nor Polycletus nor Myron Her faultless form by art have shown.