Page:Romance of the Rose (Ellis), volume 1.pdf/219

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Till they have pierced their hearts with three

Sharp swords of dire malignity:

The first, hard labour is, to gain;

The second, fear to lose amain

The pelf amassed with carking care.

Long dolorous days, and scanty fare;

The third sword is the drivelling fear

Of death as old age draws anear,

When, as aforesaid, graspers see

Their self-inflicted misery.

Pecunia, queen-like, hath the wit

To scourge the fools who benefit

Nought of her favours, but would keep

Her prisoned fast. She lies asleep

In peace the while these dotards wake,

Swink hard and ’neath her ruling quake

Whate’er may hap; in honour she

Doth live, while they but shamefully

Bow them before her vengeful rod,

And writhe beneath her foot steel shod.

But small and scant her thanks will be

To him who curbs her liberty,

Seeing he must, or soon or late,

Forego her when he meets his fate,

Though while he lived he did not dare

To harness her or let her fare.

But bold courageous men attack

This dame, and mounting on her back,

With spur and rein entreat her so

As quickly gives her cause to know

Her lords for men of valiant heart;

For e’en as Daedalus by art