De planctu naturae

While I was reciting this elegy more and more often, with a lamenting melody, a woman seemed to hasten her approach to me, having glided down from the deeper palace of the impassible world. Her hair, sparkling not with borrowed light but its own, not merely representing the likeness of rays but by its native brightness surpassing nature itself, shaped the girl's head into a starry body. This hair, unfastening a double braid, without abandoning the heavens above, did not disdain to smile a kiss upon the earth. A certain narrow path, like a little lily's furrow, divided the hair's contest beneath a crossing slant, and that slant was never a detriment to her face, but rather governed its beauty. A golden hairband, gathering the gold of her hair into the dance of lawful order, marveled to find her face in harmony with it. For the appearance of the gold, following the color of her hair, produced a false conclusion for the sight. Her forehead, spreading into a broad plain, tinged with milky lily-white, seemed to rival the lily. Her eyebrows, starred with a golden gleam, straying neither into a thicket nor sunk into excessive thinness, held a middle course between the two extremes. The serene calm of her eyes, charming with a friendly clarity, offered the freshness of twin stars. Each nostril, embalmed with a honeyed fragrance, neither too humbly low nor unjustly prominent, presented a certain distinguishing mark. The perfume of her mouth offered to the nostrils a delicate feast of scent. Her lips, rising with a slight swelling, invited the recruits of Venus to kisses. Her teeth, in a certain harmony of their color, gave the appearance of ivory. The purple fire of her cheeks, kindled with the crimson of roses, made her face lovely with a sweet flame; for the pleasant whiteness felt a friendly balance, her face's purple wedded to its white linen. The polished, crystalline plain of her chin, circumspect with light, wore a silvery gleam. The not unjust length of her neck, moderated by its slenderness, did not allow her throat to be wedded to her shoulders. The little apples of her breasts graciously promised the ripeness of youth. Her arms, inviting the beholder's favor, seemed to ask for embraces. The even, balanced curve of her sides, stamped with the seal of just moderation, brought the beauty of her whole body to the height of perfection. As for the rest, which the more secret bedchamber kept hidden, faith declared it to be even better; for indeed, a more graceful face lay hidden within her body, of which her visible face displayed only a prelude. And although the joy of such beauty was so great, an inestimable weeping nevertheless tried to extinguish the laughter of this loveliness; for a stream flowing from the spring of her eyes proclaimed her mind's sorrow. Her very face too, bowed to the earth in chaste modesty, spoke in a certain way of an injury done to the girl herself; and a royal crown of a diadem, glowing red, sparkling with dances of gems, blazed upon her head from above, whose material, no counterfeit gold degenerating from its own honor, deceiving the eyes with a sophistical light, but rather its own nobility supplied its essence. In a miraculous circuit and eternal flight, this diadem, journeying from the east to the west, was carried back again and again to its rising by its recurring motion. And by exercising this same motion perpetually, from its excessive returning to its own starting point, the movement seemed idle and without purpose. Of the aforementioned gems, some offered to the eyes, at their proper time, new miracles of God with the new sun of their own light; but at another time, in the eclipse of their brilliance, they seemed to be exiled from the palace of the diadem. Others, set into the crown, perpetuating the vigil of their sparkling, kept an unending watch. Among these, a shining circle, starred with precious stones in the likeness of the zodiac's slant, interrupted with kisses the necklaces of their starry closeness. In this circle, a company of twelve gems, by successive and privileged splendor, seemed to demand precedence over the others. Also, in the front part of this same diadem, three precious stones, in the bold pride of their radiance, shone before the rest with a name above all names, one by one. The first stone bade the cold of night suffer exile in a blaze of light, in which, as the clever fictions of the picture told, the shape of a lion, engraved there, flashed like lightning. The second stone, not second to the first in light, shining in the bolder place of the aforesaid part, seemed, as if out of a certain indignation, to look down upon the other stones. In it, as the picture, that ape of truth, taught, a crab seemed to walk backward behind itself, advancing by retreating, moving forward by drawing back. The third stone made up for the poor splendor of the stone opposite it with the abundant riches of its own brightness. In it, just as the truth of the picture proclaimed, the shadowy offspring of Leda walked along, congratulating each other with a mutual embrace. In this way, three stones, equal in this honor and rank, set their throne on the opposing side. Of these, the first, imitating tears in droplets of sweat, saddened the gaze with a kind of imagined weeping. In it, as the fancy of courtly writing taught by its imagining, a certain young man's little jar received the flowing torrent. The second stone, driving away from its realm of heat all lodging by its icy numbness, claimed winter as its guest; in it, from a counterfeit fleece of goat's wool, the picture had woven the tunic of Capricorn. The third stone, putting on the face of crystalline light, prophesied the coming of winter. In it, the old man Chiron, by the constant bending of his bow, threatened wounds, yet never made good on his threats with actual effect. On the other, more indulgent and playful side, the kindly serenity of the gems delighted the eyes. Of these, the first, inflamed with a rosy crimson color, presented a rose to the sight; in it a bull, displaying the badge of its forehead, seemed to thirst for battle. Another, privileged with the temperate quality of its light, drew together the fellowship of sisters by the grace of its goodness; in it a ram, proud in the honor of its brow, claimed lordship over the flock. The third, showing an emerald greenness, carried within itself a remedy for refreshing the eyes; in it, beneath an imagined river, fish practiced, in their own nature, the exercise of swimming along the shore. On the opposite side of the throne, the beauty of the stars sparkled with a pleasing show of approval. Of these stones, the first, radiating with the golden sun of its own brilliance, displayed the grace of an untiring beauty, in which, as the figurative device of the carving showed, Astraea vied with the stars by a certain privilege of its own brightness. The second, luxuriating in no excessive splendor, nor begging for sparks of a needy brightness, rejoiced in a moderate flame; in this stone too, under an equal weighing, according to the rule of the painter's art, a set of scales promised judgments. The third, alternating its appearance in turns, now promised the benevolence of clear skies, now brought on the clouds of darkness; in it the reflected face of a scorpion threatened, with its expression, laughter, and with its tail's sting, tears. Beneath these dwellings of the twelve stones, a sevenfold company of gems, perpetuating a circular motion, carried on a pleasing dance with a miraculous kind of play; nor did this dance lack the sweetness of harmony, now playing wantonly in semitones, now growing young again with the moderate sonority of full tones, now proceeding with a more mature melody like a trumpet's, and by its modulation it stirred the desire of our ears, and offered to the eyes a prelude to sleep. But whereas a scarcity of listening earns offense for the ear, an excess of it brings on distaste; for from an overabundant supply of listening, the ear grows weary and faint. These seven stones, although held bound by no fastenings of joints to the diadem itself, never, by their absence, left the company of the higher stones orphaned. Now, the highest stone was a diamond, which, more sluggish than the rest in motion, more given to idleness, took an excessive length of time in traversing its wider circle. This stone grew so numb with the chill of such great cold that the kinship of its nature proved it born of the star Saturn. The second was an agate, which, as its course drew nearer to the others, transformed certain enmities; in it, while it also brought to maturity the favor and boyish good will of certain others by the imperial power of its own virtue, since by a close kinship of nature it was familiar with the trust of Jupiter, a gracious effect was seen to be at work. The third was an "astrites" stone, in which, with heat pitching its camp as ruling principle, by a certain continuity of property, the effect of the star of Mars was read; which, terrible in the threatening look of its shape, threatened the rest with destruction. The fourth was a carbuncle, which, bearing the image of the sun, casting beneath its wax-bright radiance a shadow over the rest, lulled to sleep the eclipsed lamps of its brothers, now commanding the others by the royal authority of its majesty to turn aside, now granting to their agitation a period of rest. With the sapphire, indeed, the hyacinth stone, following in its footsteps, waiting on it like an attendant servant, was never deprived of the sight of that aforementioned light, and within a short distance thrown between them, they run together in the same orbit, either following each other, or one, following as a star, yields to the other the honor of going before. Of these two stones, one carried the resemblance, by the harmony of its nature, of the planet Mercury; the other breathed forth the effect of the star of Venus. The last stone was a pearl, which, set into the border of the glowing crown, shining with a borrowed light, begged for support from the light of the carbuncle. This pearl, sometimes drawing near to the aforesaid light and thereby gaining, or else drawing away and thereby losing, submits its rays, in growing, as though in reverence to the carbuncle, so that, adorned again by its brotherly fires, and carrying around the renewed ornaments of its splendor, now nourishing, by solemn additions, the losses of its worn-down disk, now orphaned of its own light, it laments the loss of its own majesty. This stone, silvered with a crystalline gleam, shone with the effect of the moon. By all these splendors of stones, the serene nobility of the aforesaid diadem represented in itself the very image of the firmament. Her garment, however, woven from silken wool, covered in many-colored protection, served for the use of the girl's skin, its shifting variety of color, dyeing it, changing her face with many colors; which, at first whitened with the whiteness of the lily, struck the gaze. Second, as though drawn by a kind of poverty, as if laboring toward something better, it glowed, empurpled with the blood of blushing. Third, to the height of perfection, it delighted the eyes with a greenness, as if of emerald. This fabric, however, was made so extremely fine, escaping the searching of the eyes, that it had come to such a thinness of material that you would believe its nature to be the same as that of the air itself, in which, just as the picture pictured it to the eyes, a gathering of animals was being celebrated. There the eagle, after becoming a young man a second time and then an old man, was turning back once more into Adonis, away from Nestor. There the hawk, rendered violent and tyrannical by its subjects, made its demands upon them. There the kite, putting on the mask of a hunter, wore, by a stolen reverence, the disguise of a hawk. There the falcon stirred up civil war against the heron, yet not divided by an equal balance; for it ought not to be called a battle, where you strike and I only hide. There the ostrich, having set aside worldly life, dwelt in the solitude of the deserts, living a solitary life, as though made into a hermit. There the swan, herald of its own funeral, prophesied, with the instrument of its honeyed singing, the receipt due for its life. There nature poured such a treasure of beauty upon the peacock alone that you would afterward believe her to have gone begging because of it. There the phoenix, dead in itself, reborn in another, by a certain miracle of nature raised itself from the dead by its own death. There the stork, tithing its offspring, paid its tribute to nature. There, with the sparrow relegated to the smallness of a mere speck, in a pygmy's humility, the crane, by contrast, grew to a gigantic excess of size. There the pheasant, having endured the confines of its native island, destined to become the delight of princes, flew forth into our world. There the rooster, like a common astrologer, told the divisions of the hours by the clock of his own voice. There the wood-grouse, mocking the laziness of the domestic rooster, setting off on a journey abroad, wandered through the woodland provinces. There the profane owl sang the psalms of misery in a funeral lamentation. There the little owl was so foul with the dung-heap of its deformity that you would believe nature to have been drowsy in fashioning it. There the crow, foretelling things to come, was stirred up with idle chattering. There the magpie, painted with an uncertain color, kept an unsleeping care for the art of logic. There the jackdaw, hoarding stolen goods in praiseworthy thievery, showed proof of an innate greed. There the dove, made drunk with the sweet evil of Venus, labored in the wrestling-ring of love. There the crow, abhorring the disgrace of jealousy, denied that its offspring were its own pledges, until, by the evidence of their black color, it proved this point, as though arguing with itself. There the partridge shrank in horror, now from the assaults of the power of the air, now from the tricks of hunters, now from the prophetic barking of dogs. There the duck, together with the goose, under their own law of living, wintered in their river homeland. There the turtledove, widowed of her mate, disdaining to make any epilogue to her loves, refused the comforts of a second marriage. There the parrot, with the anvil of its own throat, forged the coinage of human speech. There the quail, not knowing the deceit of the dragon's shape, was deceived by the sophistries of an imagined voice. There the woodpecker, architect of its own little house, fashioned, with the chisel of its beak, a chamber within the holm-oak. There the hedge-sparrow, setting aside a stepmother's part, adopted, at her own maternal breast of tenderness, another's cuckoo-child as her son; yet this child, rewarded with capital wages, once it recognized its stepson, did not recognize it as its own son. There the swallow, returned from her journey abroad, plastered with mud her lodging beneath the roof-beam of her nest. There the nightingale, renewing the complaint of her own deflowering, playing the tabor with a harmonic sweetness, excused the disgrace of her smallness. There the lark, like a noble lyre-player, thoroughly taught the science of music not by the skill of study but by the mastery of nature, presented a lyre in her mouth, which, refining the tones into fine particles, divided the semitones into divisible pegs. There the bat, a hermaphroditic bird, held among the little birds the place of a cipher. These animals, although they lived there only allegorically, nevertheless seemed to exist there literally. A fine linen cloth, its whiteness adulterated with a shade of green, which the girl herself had afterward woven seamlessly and skillfully, growing wanton with subtle craftsmanship rather than cheapened by common material, served the office of a mantle; and this cloth, entwined with many embraces, took on the appearance of the color of water, in which, above the nature of any water-creature, a fable of picture-work commented in manifold particulars upon various species. There the whale, rivaling the cliffs in the crag of its own bulk, with the charge of its tower-like body, battered the little towns of ships. There the sea-dog, with the barking equivocation of its very name, indulging in no actual barking, hunted the hares of its own kind, sea-hares, in its watery groves. There the sturgeon offered the individual blessing of its own body's nobility to royal tables. There the herring, most common of fish, with the ample fellowship of its body, comforted the fasts of the poor. There the plaice, with the sweetened flavors of its body, redeemed the absence of meat in the austerity of Lent. There the mullet, with the sweet enticements of its flesh, seduced the palates of those who tasted it. There the trout, entering the sea's inlets and baptized in the ocean, was reckoned under the name of salmon. There the dolphin, by the constancy of its appearing, foretold the future assaults of the sea. There, in the loins of a siren-fish, a human face was to be read. To these inhabitants of the sea's region a middle portion of the mantle had been granted; but the remaining portion of the cloak belonged to the foreign fish, who, wandering through different waters, had made their home in the country of sweeter water. There the pike, by tyrannical exaction, not by the claim of merit, imprisoned its subjects in the workhouse of its own body. There the barbel, no less famous for the dignity of its own body, lived on familiar terms with the common rabble of fish. There the shad, keeping company with the season of spring, offering the delights of its flavor as one of spring's own delights, greeted human taste with the arrival of its own body. There the lamprey, pierced with many a window-like hole, was read by those at dinner as an introduction to fevers. There the eel, imitating, by a certain likeness of property, the nature of the serpent, was believed to be its granddaughter. There the perch, armored with the darts of its fins, feared less the assaults of the water-wolf. There the chub made up in its swollen head what it lost in the smallness of its lower body. These carvings, by the figurative device of the picture, elegantly figured on the mantle, seemed, as if by a miracle, to swim. Her tunic, however, embroidered with the work of many-colored embroidery, enclosed within itself the girl's maidenly body. This tunic, starred with many colors, gathered into a coarser material, aspired to the appearance of the earthly element. In the primary part of this garment, man, laying aside the sluggishness of sensuality, led by the chariot-driving of reasoning, penetrated the secrets of heaven. In this part, the tunic, suffering a division of its parts, showed the marks of the injuries done to it. In the remaining places, however, the parts, in elegant continuity, were in harmony, sustaining in themselves no discord of division. In these, a certain enchantment of the picture made the earthly animals seem to live. There the elephant, advanced into the air by the monstrous size of its body, doubled with manifold interest the mouth given to it by nature. There the camel, deformed with its swollen body, ministered, like a purchased slave, to the uses of men. There horns, usurping the place of a helmet, seemed to arm the buffalo's brow. There the bull, troubling the earth with its feet, thundering with its bellowing, sang beforehand the lightning-bolts of its own duel. There oxen, refusing the soldiery of bulls, gaped, like peasants, after servile tasks. There the horse, carried forward with a burning boldness, fighting alongside its rider, broke a lance together with the soldier. There the donkey, wearying the ears with its harsh braying, organizing as if by antiphrasis, committed a barbarism in music. There the unicorn, lulled to sleep in a virgin's lap, met the sleep of death from its enemies. There the lion, murmuring into the ears of its young the songs of its roaring, roused in them the small spark of life. There the she-bear, having given birth through the gates of her nostrils to shapeless offspring, licking them again and again into shape with the stylus of her tongue, coining them, brought them into a better form. There the wolf, lurking in hiding, usurped the office of a thief. There the leopard, playing the Nero more openly in its thievery, preyed upon the common herd of cattle not only in their fleece but in their very person. There the tiger violated the republic of its fellow cattle-citizens with a repeated shedding of innocent blood. There the wild ass, casting off the servitude of the donkey, manumitted into nature's own rule, dwelt in the boldness of the mountains. There the boar, flashing like lightning with the armor of its tusk, sold its own death to the dogs at the price of many a wound. There the dog, troubling the air with imaginary wounds, bit at the air with the persistence of its teeth. There the stag and the doe, made winged by the swiftness of their feet, winning their life by going ahead, cheated the unjust bites of the pursuing dogs. There the goat, clothed in a sophistical wool, seemed to offend the nostrils with a four-day-old smell. There the ram, robed in a nobler tunic, rejoicing in a plurality of wives, cheated marriage of its honor. There the little fox, casting off the ignorance of a brute animal, aspired to the cunning of a better man. There the hare, seized by a melancholy frenzy, terrified not by sleep but by the drowsiness of fear, dreamed of the coming of the dogs. There the rabbit, tempering with its fur the anger of our cold, overcame with its own flesh the assaults of our hunger. There the beaver, lest it suffer a division of its whole body at its enemies' hands, cut off the extreme parts of its body. There the lynx thrived with such clearness of sight that, by comparison with it, the other animals seemed bleary-eyed. There the marten and the sable, whose fur was asked to supply, with its own nobility, the half-finished beauty of cloaks, brought that beauty to its fullness. These figures of animals, this representation of a storied figure, gave, like a banquet of delight, to the eyes of those who beheld them. As for what the picture's industry dreamed up on the leggings and undergarment, buried within the outer garments, I have proven nothing with any certainty; but only, as certain fragile hints of probability taught, I suppose that there the wantonness of the picture had played, in its treatment, upon the natures of herbs and trees. There the trees, I imagine, were now clothed in purple tunics, now given hair of green leaves, now bringing forth the fragrant infancy of flowers, now growing old with a riper fruit. But since I recognized the sequence of this picture-work only by the slipperiness of mere probability, not by the certainty of true knowledge, I pass over this in buried silence. Her shoes, however, made of soft leather, followed so closely the very shape of her feet that they seemed, wonderfully, to have been born on those very feet, and inscribed upon them. On these shoes, hardly differing from true reality, shadowy flowers were made pleasant beneath the skill of the picture.