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Lines 583-696
‘Sweet boy,’ she says, ‘this night I’ll waste in sorrow, For my sick heart commands mine eyes to watch(stay awake). Tell me, Love’s master, shall we meet to-morrow? 585 Say, shall we? shall we? wilt thou make the match?’ He tells her, no; to-morrow he intends To hunt the boar with certain of his friends. ‘The boar!’ quoth she; whereat a sudden pale, Like lawn(a very fine white cloth) being spread upon the blushing rose, 590 Usurps(takes over) her cheeks, she trembles at his tale, And on his neck her yoking arms she throws: She sinketh down, still hanging by his neck, He on her belly falls, she on her back. Now is she in the very lists(the arena for a tournament,where knights on hoseback fight with lances) of love, 595 Her champion mounted for the hot encounter: All is imaginary she doth prove,(everything she experiences is imaginary--i.e. her fantasies will not be translated into reality) He will not manage her(put her through her paces[a term from horsemanship]), although he mount her; That worse than Tantalus’ is her annoy(so that her suffering is worse than that of Tantalus), To clip(embrace) Elysium(the classical equivalent of heaven, the place of the blessed dead) and to lack her joy. 600 Even as poor birds, deceiv’d with painted grapes(a reference to a story of the Greek painter Zeuzis, that he painted a bunch of grapes so realistic that birds came to peck at it.), Do surfeit by the eye and pine the maw([stomach], are overfed as far as the eyes are concerned, but starve as far as the stomach is), Even so she languished! in her mishaps, As those poor birds that helpless(useless) berries saw. The warm effects which she in him finds missing, 605 She seeks to kindle with continual kissing. But all in vain; good queen, it will not be: She hath assay’d as much as may be prov’d;(tried as much as she can) Her pleading hath deserv’d a greater fee; She ’s Love, she loves, and yet she is not lov’d. 610 ‘Fie, fie!’ he says, ‘you crush me; let me go; You have no reason to withhold me so.’ ‘Thou hadst been gone,’ quoth she, ‘sweet boy, ere this, But that thou told’st me thou wouldst hunt the boar. O! be advis’d; thou know’st not what it is 615 With javelin’s point a churlish swine to gore, Whose tushes(tusks) never sheath’d he whetteth(sharpens) still, Like to a mortal(deadly) butcher, bent(determined) to kill. ‘On his bow-back(humped back) he hath a battle(battle-line) set Of bristly pikes, that ever threat his foes; 620 His eyes like glow-worms shine when he doth fret(rage); His snout digs sepulchres where’er he goes; Being mov’d(angered), he strikes whate’er is in his way, And whom he strikes his crooked tushes slay. ‘His brawny(strong) sides, with hairy bristles arm’d, 625 Are better proof(armoured) than thy spear’s point can enter; His short thick neck cannot be easily harm’d; Being ireful, on the lion he will venture: The thorny brambles and embracing bushes, As fearful of him part, through whom he rushes. 630 ‘Alas! he nought esteems(cares nothing for) that face of thine, To which Love’s eyes pay tributary gazes; Nor thy soft hands, sweet lips, and crystal eyne(eyes), Whose full perfection all the world amazes; But having thee at vantage(at his mercy), wondrous dread! 635 Would root these beauties as he roots the mead(meadow). ‘O! let him keep his loathsome cabin(den) still; Beauty hath nought to do with such foul fiends: Come not within his danger by thy will; They that thrive well take counsel of(advice from) their friends. 640 When thou didst name the boar, not to dissemble, I fear’d thy fortune, and my joints did tremble. ‘Didst thou not mark my face? was it not white? Saw’st thou not signs of fear lurk in mine eye? Grew I not faint? And fell I not downright(immediately, straight down)? 645 Within my bosom, whereon thou dost lie, My boding(foreboding) heart pants, beats, and takes no rest, But, like an earthquake, shakes thee on my breast. ‘For where Love reigns, disturbing Jealousy(fear, anxiety, not 'jealousy' in the modern sense) Doth call himself Affection’s sentinel; 650 Gives false alarms, suggesteth mutiny(incites riots), And in a peaceful hour doth cry “Kill, kill!” Distempering(disturbing) gentle Love in his desire, As air and water do abate the fire. ‘This sour informer, this bate-breeding(trouble-making) spy, 655 This canker(canker-worm[an insect which devours plants from within]) that eats up Love’s tender spring(young growth), This carry-tale(tale-bearer, gossipmonger), dissentious Jealousy, That sometime true news, sometime false doth bring, Knocks at my heart, and whispers in mine ear That if I love thee, I thy death should fear: 660 ‘And more than so, presenteth to mine eye The picture of an angry-chafing boar, Under whose sharp fangs on his back doth lie An image like thyself, all stain’d with gore; Whose blood upon the fresh flowers being shed 665 Doth make them droop with grief and hang the head. ‘What should I do, seeing thee so indeed, That tremble at the imagination? The thought of it doth make my faint heart bleed, And fear doth teach it divination: 670 I prophesy thy death, my living sorrow, If thou encounter with the boar to-morrow. ‘But if thou needs wilt hunt, be rul’d by me; Uncouple at(unleash the dogs to hunt) the timorous flying hare, Or at the fox which lives by subtilty, 675 Or at the roe which no encounter dare: Pursue these fearful creatures o’er the downs, And on thy well-breath’d horse keep with thy hounds. ‘And when thou hast on foot the purblind(weak-sighted) hare, Mark the poor wretch, to overshoot his troubles 680 How he outruns the winds, and with what care He cranks and crosses(twists and turns) with a thousand doubles(doublings-back): The many musits(gaps in hedges) through the which he goes Are like a labyrinth to amaze his foes. ‘Sometime he runs among a flock of sheep, 685 To make the cunning hounds mistake their smell, And sometime where earth-delving conies keep(burrowing rabbits live), To stop the loud pursuers in their yell, And sometime sorteth(mingles) with a herd of deer; Danger deviseth shifts(tricks); wit waits on fear(intelligence accompanies, i.e. is stimulated by, fear): 690 ‘For there his smell with others being mingled, The hot scent-snuffing hounds are driven to doubt, Ceasing their clamorous cry till they have singled With much ado the cold fault(lost scent) cleanly out; Then do they spend their mouths: Echo replies, 695 As if another chase were in the skies.
 
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