Page:Romance of the Rose (Ellis), volume 3.pdf/69

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Thereto, and burns itself to dust,

In such wise, as ’twould seem it must

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.

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,

For Nature, pitiful and good,

Abhors and hates Death’s envious mood,

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.