VI Her plaints were interrupted with a sound, That seemed from thickest bushes to proceed, Some jolly shepherd sung a lusty round, And to his voice he tuned his oaten reed; Thither she went, an old man there she found, At whose right hand his little flock did feed, Sat making baskets, his three sons among, That learned their father’s art, and learned his song.
VII Beholding one in shining Arms appear, The seely man and his were sore dismay’d; But sweet Erminia comforted their fear, Her vental up, her visage open laid; You happy folk, of heav’n beloved dear, Work on, quoth she, upon your harmless trade; These dreadful arms, I bear, no warfare bring To your sweet toil, nor those sweet tunes you sing.
VIII “But, father, since this land, these towns and towers Destroyed are with sword, with fire and spoil, How may it be unhurt that you and yours In safety thus apply your harmless toil?” “My son,” quoth he, “this poor estate of ours Is ever safe from storm of warlike broil; This wilderness doth us in safety keep, No thundering drum, no trumpet breaks our sleep.
IX “Haply just Heaven’s defence and shield of right Doth love the innocence of simple swains, The thunderbolts on highest mountains light, And seld or never strike the lower plains; So kings have cause to fear Bellona’s might, Not they whose sweat and toil their dinner gains, Nor ever greedy soldier was enticed By poverty, neglected and despised.
X “O poverty, chief of the heavenly brood, Dearer to me than wealth or kingly crown: No wish for honor, thirst of others’ good, Can move my heart, contented with mine own: We quench our thirst with water of this flood, Nor fear we poison should therein be thrown; These little flocks of sheep and tender goats Give milk for food, and wool to make us coats.
XI “We little wish, we need but little wealth, From cold and hunger us to clothe and feed; These are my sons, their care preserves from stealth Their father’s flocks, nor servants more I need: Amid these groves I walk oft for my health, And to the fishes, birds, and beasts give heed, How they are fed, in forest, spring and lake, And their contentment for example take.
XII “Time was, for each one hath his doating time, These silver locks were golden tresses then, That country life I hated as a crime, And from the forest’s sweet contentment ran, And there became the mighty caliph’s man, and though I but a simple gardener were, Yet could I mark abuses, see and hear.