ROMAN CHARITY.
A Worthy Example of a Virtuous WIFE,
Who fed her Father with her own Milk.
He being commanded by the Emperor to be Starved to Death,
but afterwards Pardoned.
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IN Rome, I read a Nobleman
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The Emperor did offend,
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And for that fault he was adjudgd
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Unto a cruel End.
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That he should be in prison cast
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With irons many a one;
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And there be famishd unto death,
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And brought to skin and bones
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And more, if any one were known,
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By night or yet by day;
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To bring him any kind of Food
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His hunger to allay;
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The Emperor swore a mighty oath,
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Without remorse, quoth he,
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They shall sustain the cruelest death
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That can devised be.
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This cruel sentence once pronouncd
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The Nobleman was cast.
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Into a dungeon deep and dark,
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With irons fetterd fast;
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Where when he had with hunger great
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Remained ten days space;
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And tasted neither meat nor drink,
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In a most woeful case.
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The tears along his aged face,
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Most piteously did fall,
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And grieviously he did begin
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For to complain:
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O Lord! quoth he, what shall I do?
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So hungry am I;
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For want of bread, one bit of bread,
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I perish, starve, and die.
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How precious is one grain of wheat
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Unto a hungry soul?
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One crust or crumb, or little piece
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My hunger to controul.
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Had I this dungeon heapd with gold,
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I now would give it all,
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To buy and purchase one small loaf,
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Yea, were it eer so small.
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O that I had but every day
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One bit of bread to eat,
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Tho neer so mouldy, black, or brown
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My comfort would be great.
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Yes, tho I did take it up,
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Trod down in dirt and mire,
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It would be pleasing to my taste,
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And sweet to my desire.
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Good Lord! most happy is the hind,
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That labours all the day:
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The drudging mule, the peasant poor
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That at command do stay,
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They have their ordinary meals,
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They take no heed at all,
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Of those crumbs and crusts that they
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Do carelesly let fall.
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How happy is the little chick,
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Who without fear doth go,
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And pick up those precious crumbs
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Which they away do throw.
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O that some pretty small mouse,
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So much my friend would be,
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To bring some old forsaken crust
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Into this place to me.
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But O my heart it is in vain,
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No succour can I have;
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No meat, no drink, nor water eke,
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My loathed life to save.
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O bring some bread for Christs sake,
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Some bread, some bread to me;
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I die, I die, for want of food,
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None but stone walls I see.
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Thus night and day he cryd,
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In such outrageous sort;
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That all the people far and near,
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were grievd at his report.
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And tho great many Friends he had,
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And daughters in the town;
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Yet none durst come to succour him,
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Fearing the Emperors frown.
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Yet now behold one daughter dear,
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He had as we do find;
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Who livd in his displeasure great
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For not wedding to his mind.
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Altho she livd in mean estate,
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She was a virtuous wife,
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And for to help her father dear
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She venturd thus her life.
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She quickly to her sisters went,
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And of them did entreat,
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That by some secret means they would
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Convey their father meat.
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Our father doth starve, said she,
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The Emperors wrath is such,
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He dies, alas, for want of food,
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Whereof we have too much.
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Pray sisters, therefore use some means
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His life for to preserve:
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And suffer not your father dear
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In prison for to starve.
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Alas, said they, what shall we do
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His hunger to sustain,
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You know tis death for any one
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That would his life maintain;
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And tho we wish him well, said they,
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We never will agree
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To spoil ourselves; we had as lief
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That he should die as we:
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And sister, if you love yourself.
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Let this attempt alone;
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Tho you do neer so secret work,
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In time it will be known.
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O hath our father brought us up,
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And nourishd us, quoth she;
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And shall we now forsake him quite,
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In his extremity?
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No, I will venture life and limb,
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To do my father good,
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The worst that is, I can but die,
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To fit a tyrants mood.
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With that in haste away she flies,
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And to the prison goes;
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But with her dismal father dear
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She might not speak, God knows,
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Except the Emperor would grant
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Her father in that case;
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The keeper would admit no one
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To enter in that place.
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Then she unto the Emperor hies,
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And falling on her knees,
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With wringing hands and bitter cries,
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These words pronounced she:
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My helpless father, sovereign Liege,
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Offending of your Grace;
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Is judgd unto a pining death,
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Within a dismal place;
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Which I confess he has deservd,
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Yet mighty prince, says she,
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Vouchsafe in gracious sort to grant
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One simple boon to me.
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It chanced so, I matchd myself
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Against my fathers mind,
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Whereby I did procure his wrath,
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As fortune had assignd.
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And seeing now the time is come,
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He must resign his breath,
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Vouchsafe that I may speak to him
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Before the hour of death.
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And reconcile myself to him,
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His favour to obtain,
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That when he dies, I may not there
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Under his curse remain.
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The Emperor granted her request,
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Conditionally that she,
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Each day unto her father went,
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Should thoroughly searched be.
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No meat or drink she with her brought
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To help him him there distrest,
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But every day she nourishd him
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With milk from her own breast.
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Thus by her milk he was preservd
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A twelvemonth and a day;
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And was so fair and fat to see,
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Yet none could tell which way.
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The Emperor musing much thereat;
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At length did understand,
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How he was fed, and not his law
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Was broke at any hand.
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And much admired at the same,
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And her great virtues shown,
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He pardond him, and honourd her
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With great preferments known.
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Her father ever after that;
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Lovd her as his life;
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And blest the day that she was made
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A virtuous loving wife.
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