Metamorphoses Machine readable text P. Ovidius Naso Arthur Golding Perseus Project, Tufts University Gregory Crane Prepared under the supervision of Lisa Cerrato William Merrill Elli Mylonas David Smith The National Endowment for the Humanities about 972Kb Trustees of Tufts University Medford, MA Perseus Project

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You credit Perseus, as follows, whenever you use the document: Text provided by Perseus Digital Library, with funding from The National Endowment for the Humanities. Original version available for viewing and download at http://www.perseus.tufts.edu/hopper/. You leave this availability statement intact. You use it for non-commercial purposes only. You offer Perseus any modifications you make. Ovid Metamorphoses Arthur Golding London W. Seres 1567 English 10-Aug-00 CEWed. $Log: ovid.golding.met_eng.xml,v $ Revision 1.3 2006/02/10 20:50:25 packel places/dates now actually tagged Revision 1.2 2005/08/01 16:20:12 packel removed stray item tags Revision 1.1 2005/07/25 14:56:32 packel Converted to XML Revision 1.11 2004/04/02 19:47:28 mimno added line 1 cards Revision 1.10 2003/07/01 22:17:17 yorkc Updated texts to TEI P4 and Perseus P4 extensions; minor cleanup (esp. character encodings and typos.) Revision 1.9 2000/08/18 20:28:50 cwulfman All card breaks marked. Revision 1.8 2000/08/11 17:32:49 cwulfman Added card milestones through book eight. Revision 1.7 2000/08/10 21:18:19 cwulfman Put in card breaks to about half-way through book five. Revision 1.6 2000/08/10 17:58:27 cwulfman Fixed book numbers; passes sgml verification. Revision 1.5 2000/08/10 17:32:53 amahoney oops, missed last set of changes; resolve conflicts Of shapes transformde to bodies straunge, I purpose to entreate, Ye gods vouchsafe (for you are they ywrought this wondrous feate) To further this mine enterprise. And from the world begunne, Graunt that my verse may to my time, his course directly runne. Before the Sea and Lande were made, and Heaven that all doth hide, In all the worlde one onely face of nature did abide, Which Chaos hight, a huge rude heape, and nothing else but even A heavie lump and clottred clod of seedes togither driven, Of things at strife among themselves, for want of order due. No sunne as yet with lightsome beames the shapelesse world did vew. No Moone in growing did repayre hir hornes with borowed light. Nor yet the earth amiddes the ayre did hang by wondrous slight Just peysed by hir proper weight. Nor winding in and out Did Amphitrytee with hir armes embrace the earth about. For where was earth, was sea and ayre, so was the earth unstable. The ayre all darke, the sea likewise to beare a ship unable. No kinde of thing had proper shape, but ech confounded other. For in one selfesame bodie strove the hote and colde togither, The moist with drie, the soft with hard, the light with things of weight. This strife did God and Nature breake, and set in order streight. The earth from heaven, the sea from earth, he parted orderly, And from the thicke and foggie ayre, he tooke the lightsome skie. Which when he once unfolded had, and severed from the blinde And clodded heape, he setting eche from other did them binde In endlesse friendship to agree. The fire most pure and bright, The substance of the heaven it selfe, bicause it was so light Did mount aloft, and set it selfe in highest place of all. The second roume of right to ayre, for lightnesse did befall. The earth more grosse drew down with it eche weighty kinde of matter, And set it selfe in lowest place. Againe, the waving water Did lastly chalenge for his place, the utmost coast and bound, Of all the compasse of the earth, to close the stedfast ground. Now when he in this foresaid wise (what God so ere he was) Had broke and into members put this rude confused masse, Then first bicause in every part, the earth should equall bee, He made it like a mighty ball, in compasse as we see. And here and there he cast in seas, to whome he gave a lawe: To swell with every blast of winde, and every stormie flawe. And with their waves continually to beate upon the shore, Of all the earth within their boundes enclosde by them afore. Moreover, Springs and mighty Meeres and Lakes he did augment, And flowing streames of crooked brookes in winding bankes he pent. Of which the earth doth drinke up some, and some with restlesse race Do seeke the sea: where finding scope of larger roume and space, In steade of bankes, they beate on shores. He did commaund the plaine And champion groundes to stretch out wide: and valleys to remaine Aye underneath: and eke the woods to hide them decently With tender leaves: and stonie hilles to lift themselves on hie. And as two Zones doe cut the Heaven upon the righter side, And other twaine upon the left likewise the same devide, The middle in outragious heat exceeding all the rest: Even so likewise through great foresight to God it seemed best, The earth encluded in the same should so devided bee, As with the number of the Heaven, hir Zones might full agree. Of which the middle Zone in heate, the utmost twaine in colde Exceede so farre, that there to dwell no creature dare be bolde. Betweene these two so great extremes, two other Zones are fixt, Where temprature of heate and colde indifferently is mixt. Now over this doth hang the Ayre, which as it is more fleightie Than earth or water: so againe than fire it is more weightie. There hath he placed mist and cloudes, and for to feare mens mindes, The thunder and the lightning eke, with colde and blustring windes. But yet the maker of the worlde permitteth not alway The windes to use the ayre at will. For at this present day, Though ech from other placed be in sundry coasts aside, The violence of their boystrous blasts, things scarsly can abide. They so turmoyle as though they would the world in pieces rende, So cruell is those brothers wrath when that they doe contende. And therefore to the morning graye, the Realme of Nabathie, To Persis and to other lands and countries that doe lie Farre underneath the Morning starre, did Eurus take his flight. Likewise the setting of the Sunne, and shutting in of night Belong to Zephyr. And the blasts of blustring Boreas raigne, in Scythia and in other landes set under Charles his waine. And unto Auster doth belong the coast of all the South, Who beareth shoures and rotten mistes, continuall in his mouth. Above all these he set aloft the cleare and lightsome skie, Without all dregs of earthly filth or grossenesse utterlie. The boundes of things were scarsly yet by him thus pointed out, But that appeared in the heaven, starres glistring all about, Which in the said confused heape had hidden bene before, And to th'intent with lively things eche Region for to store, The heavenly soyle, to Gods and Starres and Planets first he gave. The waters next both fresh and salt he let the fishes have. The suttle ayre to flickring fowles and birdes he hath assignde. The earth to beasts both wilde and tame of sundrie sort and kinde. Howbeit yet of all this while, the creature wanting was, Farre more devine, of nobler minde, which should the residue passe In depth of knowledge, reason, wit, and high capacitie, And which of all the residue should the Lord and ruler bee. Then eyther he that made the worlde, and things in order set, Of heavenly seede engendred Man: or else the earth as yet Yong, lustie, fresh, and in hir floures, and parted from the skie, But late before, the seede thereof as yet held inwardlie. The which Prometheus tempring straight with water of the spring, Did make in likenesse to the Gods that governe everie thing. And where all other beasts behold the ground with groveling eie, He gave to Man a stately looke replete with majestie. And willde him to behold the Heaven wyth countnance cast on hie, To marke and understand what things were in the starrie skie. And thus the earth which late before had neyther shape nor hew, Did take the noble shape of man, and was transformed new. Then sprang up first the golden age, which of it selfe maintainde The truth and right of every thing unforct and unconstrainde. There was no feare of punishment, there was no threatning lawe In brazen tables nayled up, to keepe the folke in awe. There was no man would crouch or creepe to Judge with cap in hand, They lived safe without a Judge, in everie Realme and lande. The loftie Pynetree was not hewen from mountaines where it stood, In seeking straunge and forren landes, to rove upon the flood. Men knew none other countries yet, than where themselves did keepe: There was no towne enclosed yet, with walles and diches deepe. No horne nor trumpet was in use, no sword nor helmet worne, The worlde was such, that souldiers helpe might easly be forborne. The fertile earth as yet was free, untoucht of spade or plough, And yet it yeelded of it selfe of every things inough. And men themselves contented well with plaine and simple foode, That on the earth of natures gift without their travail stoode, Did live by Raspis, heppes and hawes, by cornelles, plummes and cherries, By sloes and apples, nuttes and peares, and lothsome bramble berries, And by the acornes dropt on ground, from Joves brode tree in fielde. The Springtime lasted all the yeare, and Zephyr with his milde And gentle blast did cherish things that grew of owne accorde, The ground untilde, all kinde of fruits did plenteously afforde. No mucke nor tillage was bestowde on leane and barren land, To make the corne of better head, and ranker for to stand. Then streames ran milke, then streames ran wine, and yellow honny flowde From ech greene tree whereon the rayes of firie Phebus glowde. But when that into Lymbo once Saturnus being thrust, The rule and charge of all the worlde was under Jove unjust, And that the silver age came in, more somewhat base than golde, More precious yet than freckled brasse, immediatly the olde And auncient Spring did Jove abridge, and made therof anon, Foure seasons: Winter, Sommer, Spring, and Autumne off and on: Then first of all began the ayre with fervent heate to swelt. Then Isycles hung roping downe: then for the colde was felt Men gan to shroud themselves in house. Their houses were the thickes, And bushie queaches, hollow caves, or hardels made of stickes. Then first of all were furrowes drawne, and corne was cast in ground. The simple Oxe with sorie sighes, to heavie yoke was bound. Next after this succeded streight, the third and brazen age: More hard of nature, somewhat bent to cruell warres and rage. But yet not wholy past all grace. Of yron is the last In no part good and tractable as former ages past. For when that of this wicked Age once opened was the veyne Therein all mischief rushed forth: then Fayth and Truth were faine And honest shame to hide their heades: for whom crept stoutly in, Craft, Treason, Violence, Envie, Pride and wicked Lust to win. The shipman hoyst his sailes to wind, whose names he did not knowe: And shippes that erst in toppes of hilles and mountaines had ygrowe, Did leape and daunce on uncouth waves: and men began to bound With dowles and diches drawen in length the free and fertile ground, Which was as common as the Ayre and light of Sunne before. Not onely corne and other fruites, for sustnance and for store, Were now exacted of the Earth: but eft they gan to digge, And in the bowels of the ground unsaciably to rigge, For Riches coucht and hidden deepe, in places nere to Hell, The spurres and stirrers unto vice, and foes to doing well. Then hurtfull yron came abrode, then came forth yellow golde, More hurtfull than the yron farre, then came forth battle bolde, That feightes with bothe, and shakes his sword in cruell bloudy hand. Men live by ravine and by stelth: the wandring guest doth stand In daunger of his host: the host in daunger of his guest: And fathers of their sonne in lawes: yea seldome time doth rest, Betweene borne brothers such accord and love as ought to bee. The goodman seekes the goodwifes death, and his againe seeks shee. The stepdames fell their husbandes sonnes with poyson do assayle. To see their fathers live so long the children doe bewayle. All godlynesse lies under foote. And Ladie Astrey, last Of heavenly vertues, from this earth in slaughter drowned past. And to th'intent the earth alone thus should not be opprest, And heaven above in slouthfull ease and carelesse quiet rest, Men say that Giantes went about the Realme of Heaven to win To place themselves to raigne as Gods and lawlesse Lordes therein. And hill on hill they heaped up aloft into the skie, Till God almighty from the Heaven did let his thunder flie, The dint whereof the ayrie tops of high Olympus brake, And pressed Pelion violently from under Ossa strake. When whelmed in their wicked worke those cursed Caitives lay, The Earth their mother tooke their bloud yet warme and (as they say) Did give it life. And for bicause some ympes should still remaine Of that same stocke, she gave it shape and limmes of men againe. This offspring eke against the Gods did beare a native spight, In slaughter and in doing wrong was all their whole delight. Their deedes declared them of bloud engendred for to bee. The which as soone as Saturns sonne from Heaven aloft did see, He fetcht a sigh, and therwithall revolving in his thought The shamefull act which at a feast Lycaon late had wrought, As yet unknowne or blowne abrode: He gan thereat to storme And stomacke like an angry Jove. And therfore to reforme Such haynous actes, he sommonde streight his Court of Parliament, Whereto resorted all the Gods that had their sommons sent. Highe in the Welkin is a way apparant to the sight In starrie nights, which of his passing whitenesse Milkie hight: It is the streete that to the Court and Princely Pallace leades, Of mightie Jove whose thunderclaps eche living creature dreades. On both the sides of this same waye do stand in stately port The sumptuous houses of the Peeres. For all the common sort Dwell scattring here and there abrode: the face of all the skie The houses of the chiefe estates and Princes doe supplie. And sure and if I may be bolde to speake my fancie free I take this place of all the Heaven the Pallace for to bee. Now when the Goddes assembled were, and eche had tane his place, Jove standing up aloft and leaning on his yvorie Mace, Right dreadfully his bushie lockes did thrise or four times shake, Wherewith he made both Sea and Land and Heaven it self to quake, And afterward in wrathfull wordes his angrie minde thus brake: I never was in greater care nor more perplexitie, How to maintaine my soveraigne state and Princelie royaltie, When with their hundreth handes apiece the Adderfooted rout, Did practise for to conquere Heaven and for to cast us out. For though it were a cruell foe: yet did that warre depende Upon one ground, and in one stocke it had his finall ende. But now as farre as any sea about the worlde doth winde, I must destroy both man and beast and all the mortall kinde. I sweare by Styxes hideous streames that run within the ground, All other meanes must first be sought: but when there can be found No helpe to heale a festred sore, it must away be cut, Lest that the partes that yet are sound, in daunger should be put. We have a number in the worlde that mans estate surmount, Of such whom for their private Gods the countrie folkes account, As Satyres, Faunes, and sundry Nymphes, with Silvanes eke beside, That in the woods and hillie grounds continually abide. Whome into Heaven since that as yet we vouch not safe to take, And of the honour of this place copartners for to make, Such landes as to inhabite in, we erst to them assignde, That they should still enjoye the same, it is my will and minde. But can you thinke that they in rest and safetie shall remaine When proud Lycaon laye in waite by secret meanes and traine To have confounded me your Lorde, who in my hand doe beare The dreadfull thunder, and of whom even you doe stand in feare? The house was moved at his words and earnestly requirde, The man that had so traiterously against their Lord conspirde. Even so when Rebels did arise to stroy the Romane name, By shedding of our Cesars bloud, the horror of the same Did pierce the heartes of all mankinde, and made the world to quake. Whose fervent zeale in thy behalfe (O August) thou did take, As thankfully as Jove doth heare the loving care of his, Who beckning to them with his hand, forbiddeth them to hisse. And therewithall through all the house attentive silence is. As soone as that his majestie all muttring had alayde, He brake the silence once againe, and thus unto them sayde: Let passe this carefull thought of yours: for he that did offende, Hath dearely bought the wicked Act, the which he did entende. Yet shall you heare what was his fault and vengeance for the same. A foule report and infamie unto our hearing came Of mischiefe used in those times: which wishing all untrew I did descend in shape of man, th'infamed Earth to vew. It were a processe overlong to tell you of the sinne, That did abound in every place where as I entred in. The bruit was lesser than the truth, and partiall in report. The dreadfull dennes of Menalus where savage beastes resort And Cyllen had I overpast, with all the Pynetrees hie Of cold Lyceus, and from thence I entred by and by The herbroughlesse and cruell house of late th'Arcadian King, Such time as twilight on the Earth dim darknesse gan to bring. I gave a signe that God was come, and streight the common sort Devoutly prayde, whereat Lycaon first did make a sport And after said: By open proufe, ere long I minde to see, If that this wight a mighty God or mortall creature bee. The truth shall trie it selfe: he ment (the sequele did declare) To steale upon me in the night, and kyll me unbeware. And yet he was not so content: but went and cut the throte, Of one that laye in hostage there, which was an Epyrote: And part of him he did to rost, and part he did to stewe. Which when it came upon the borde, forthwith I overthrew The house with just revenging fire upon the owners hed, Who seeing that, slipt out of doores amazde for feare, and fled Into the wilde and desert woods, where being all alone, As he endevorde (but in vaine) to speake and make his mone, He fell a howling: wherewithall for verie rage and moode He ran me quite out of his wits and waxed furious woode. Still practising his wonted lust of slaughter on the poore And sielie cattle, thirsting still for bloud as heretofore, His garments turnde to shackie haire, his armes to rugged pawes: So is he made a ravening Wolfe: whose shape expressely drawes To that the which he was before: his skinne is horie graye, His looke still grim with glaring eyes, and every kinde of waye His cruell heart in outward shape doth well it selfe bewraye. Thus was one house destroyed quite, but that one house alone Deserveth not to be destroyde: in all the Earth is none, But that such vice doth raigne therein, as that ye would beleve, That all had sworne and solde themselves to mischiefe us to greve. And therefore as they all offende: so am I fully bent, That all forthwith (as they deserve) shall have due punishment. These wordes of Jove some of the Gods did openly approve, And with their sayings more to wrath his angry courage move. And some did give assent by signes. Yet did it grieve them all That such destruction utterly on all mankinde should fall, Demaunding what he purposed with all the Earth to doe, When that he had all mortall men so cleane destroyde, and whoe On holie Altars afterward should offer frankinsence, And whother that he were in minde to leave the Earth fro thence To savage beastes to wast and spoyle, bicause of mans offence. The king of Gods bade cease their thought and questions in that case, And cast the care thereof on him. Within a little space He promist for to frame a newe, an other kinde of men By wondrous meanes, unlike the first to fill the world agen. And now his lightning had he thought on all the earth to throw, But that he feared lest the flames perhaps so hie should grow As for to set the Heaven on fire, and burne up all the skie. He did remember furthermore how that by destinie A certaine time should one day come, wherein both Sea and Lond And Heaven it selfe shoulde feele the force of Vulcans scorching brond, So that the huge and goodly worke of all the worlde so wide Should go to wrecke, for doubt whereof forthwith he laide aside His weapons that the Cyclops made, intending to correct Mans trespasse by a punishment contrary in effect. And namely with incessant showres from heaven ypoured downe, He did determine with himselfe the mortall kinde to drowne. In Aeolus prison by and by he fettred Boreas fast, With al such winds as chase the cloudes or breake them with their blast, And set at large the Southerne winde: who straight with watry wings And dreadfull face as blacke as pitch, forth out of prison flings. His beard hung full of hideous stormes, all dankish was his head, With water streaming downe his haire that on his shoulders shead. His ugly forehead wrinkled was with foggie mistes full thicke, And on his fethers and his breast a stilling dew did sticke. As soone as he betweene his hands the hanging cloudes had crusht, With ratling noyse adowne from heaven the raine full sadly gusht. The Rainbow, Junos messenger, bedect in sundrie hue, To maintaine moysture in the cloudes, great waters thither drue: The corne was beaten to the grounde, the Tilmans hope of gaine, For which he toyled all the yeare, lay drowned in the raine. Joves indignation and his wrath began to grow so hot That for to quench the rage thereof, his Heaven suffised not. His brother Neptune with his waves was faine to doe him ease: Who straight assembling all the streames that fall into the seas, Said to them standing in his house: Sirs get you home apace, (You must not looke to have me use long preaching in this case.) Poure out your force (for so is neede) your heads ech one unpende, And from your open springs, your streames with flowing waters sende. He had no sooner said the word, but that returning backe, Eche one of them unlosde his spring, and let his waters slacke. And to the Sea with flowing streames yswolne above their bankes, One rolling in anothers necke, they rushed forth by rankes. Himselfe with his threetyned Mace, did lend the earth a blow, That made it shake and open wayes for waters forth to flow. The flouds at randon where they list, through all the fields did stray, Men, beastes, trees, come, and with their gods were Churches washt away. If any house were built so strong, against their force to stonde Yet did the water hide the top: and turrets in that ponde Were overwhelmde: no difference was betweene the sea and ground, For all was sea: there was no shore nor landing to be found. Some climbed up to tops of hils, and some rowde to and fro In Botes, where they not long before, to plough and Cart did go, One over come and tops of townes, whome waves did overwhelme, Doth saile in ship, an other sittes a fishing in an Elme. In meddowes greene were Anchors cast (so fortune did provide) And crooked ships did shadow vynes, the which the floud did hide. And where but tother day before did feede the hungry Gote, The ugly Seales and Porkepisces now to and fro did flote. The Sea nymphes wondred under waves the townes and groves to see, And Dolphines playd among the tops and boughes of every tree. The grim and greedy Wolfe did swim among the siely sheepe, The Lion and the Tyger fierce were borne upon the deepe. It booted not the foming Boare his crooked tuskes to whet, The running Hart coulde in the streame by swiftnesse nothing get. The fleeting fowles long having sought for land to rest upon, Into the Sea with werie wings were driven to fall anon. Th'outragious swelling of the Sea the lesser hillockes drownde, Unwonted waves on highest tops of mountaines did rebownde. The greatest part of men were drownde, and such as scapte the floode, Forlorne with fasting overlong did die for want of foode. Against the fieldes of Aonie and Atticke lies a lande That Phocis hight, a fertile ground while that it was a lande: But at that time a part of Sea, and even a champion fielde Of sodaine waters which the floud by forced rage did yeelde, Where as a hill with forked top the which Parnasus hight, Doth pierce the cloudes and to the starres doth raise his head upright. When at this hill (for yet the Sea had whelmed all beside) Deucalion and his bedfellow, without all other guide, Arrived in a little Barke immediatly they went, And to the Nymphes of Corycus with full devout intent Did honor due, and to the Gods to whome that famous hill Was sacred, and to Themis eke in whose most holie will Consisted then the Oracles. In all the world so rounde A better nor more righteous man could never yet be founde Than was Deucalion, nor againe a woman, mayde nor wife, That feared God so much as shee, nor led so good a life. When Jove behelde how all the worlde stoode lyke a plash of raine, And of so many thousand men and women did remaine But one of eche, howbeit those both just and both devout, He brake the Cloudes, and did commaund that Boreas with his stout And sturdie blasts should chase the floud, that Earth might see the skie And Heaven the Earth: the Seas also began immediatly Their raging furie for to cease. Their ruler laide awaye His dreadfull Mace, and with his wordes their woodnesse did alaye. He called Tryton to him straight, his trumpetter, who stoode In purple robe on shoulder cast, aloft upon the floode, And bade him take his sounding Trumpe and out of hand to blow Retreat, that all the streames might heare, and cease from thence to flow. He tooke his Trumpet in his hand, hys Trumpet was a shell Of some great Whelke or other fishe, in facion like a Bell That gathered narrow to the mouth, and as it did descende Did waxe more wide and writhen still, downe to the nether ende: When that this Trumpe amid the Sea was set to Trytons mouth, He blew so loude that all the streames both East, West, North and South, Might easly heare him blow retreate, and all that heard the sounde Immediatly began to ebbe and draw within their bounde. Then gan the Sea to have a shore, and brookes to finde a banke, And swelling streames of flowing flouds within hir chanels sanke. Then hils did rise above the waves that had them overflow, And as the waters did decrease the ground did seeme to grow. And after long and tedious time the trees did shew their tops All bare, save that upon the boughes the mud did hang in knops. The worlde restored was againe, which though Deucalion joyde Then to beholde: yet forbicause he saw the earth was voyde And silent like a wildernesse, with sad and weeping eyes And ruthfull voyce he then did speake to Pyrrha in this wise: O sister, O my loving spouse, O sielie woman left, As onely remnant of thy sexe that water hath bereft, Whome Nature first by right of birth hath linked to me fast In that we brothers children bene: and secondly the chast And stedfast bond of lawfull bed: and lastly now of all, The present perils of the time that latelye did befall. On all the Earth from East to West where Phebus shewes his face There is no moe but thou and I of all the mortall race. The Sea hath swallowed all the rest: and scarsly are we sure, That our two lives from dreadfull death in safetie shall endure. For even as yet the duskie cloudes doe make my heart adrad. Alas poore wretched sielie soule, what heart wouldst thou have had To beare these heavie happes, if chaunce had let thee scape alone? Who should have bene thy consort then: who should have rewd thy mone? Now trust me truly, loving wife, had thou as now bene drownde, I would have followde after thee and in the sea bene fownde. Would God I could my fathers Arte, of claye to facion men And give them life that people might frequent the world agen. Mankinde (alas) doth onely now wythin us two consist, As mouldes whereby to facion men. For so the Gods doe lyst. And with these words the bitter teares did trickle down their cheeke, Untill at length betweene themselves they did agree to seeke To God by prayer for his grace, and to demaund his ayde By aunswere of his Oracle. Wherein they nothing stayde, But to Cephisus sadly went, whose streame as at that time Began to run within his bankes though thicke with muddie slime, Whose sacred liquor straight they tooke and sprinkled with the same Their heads and clothes: and afterward to Themis chappell came, The roofe whereof with cindrie mosse was almost overgrowne. For since the time the raging floud the worlde had overflowne, No creature came within the Churche: so that the Altars stood Without one sparke of holie fyre or any sticke of wood. As soon as that this couple came within the chappell doore, They fell downe flat upon the ground, and trembling kist the floore. And sayde: If prayer that proceedes from humble heart and minde May in the presence of the Gods, such grace and favor finde As to appease their worthie wrath, then vouch thou safe to tell (O gentle Themis) how the losse that on our kinde befell, May now eftsoones recovered be, and helpe us to repaire The world, which drowned under waves doth lie in great dispaire. The Goddesse moved with their sute, this answere did them make: Depart you hence: Go hille your heads, and let your garmentes slake, And both of you your Graundames bones behind your shoulders cast. They stoode amazed at these wordes, tyll Pyrrha at the last, Refusing to obey the hest the which the Goddesse gave, Brake silence, and with trembling cheere did meekely pardon crave. For sure she saide she was afraide hir Graundames ghost to hurt By taking up hir buried bones to throw them in the durt. And with the aunswere here upon eftsoones in hand they go, The doubtfull wordes wherof they scan and canvas to and fro. Which done, Prometheus sonne began by counsell wise and sage His cousin germanes fearfulnesse thus gently to asswage: Well, eyther in these doubtfull words is hid some misterie, Whereof the Gods permit us not the meaning to espie, Or questionlesse and if the sence of inward sentence deeme Like as the tenour of the words apparantly doe seeme, It is no breach of godlynesse to doe as God doth bid. I take our Graundame for the earth, the stones within hir hid I take for bones, these are the bones the which are meaned here. Though Titans daughter at this wise conjecture of hir fere Were somewhat movde, yet none of both did stedfast credit geve, So hardly could they in their heartes the heavenly hestes beleve. But what and if they made a proufe? what harme could come thereby? They went their wayes and heild their heades, and did their cotes untie. And at their backes did throw the stones by name of bones foretolde. The stones (who would beleve the thing, but that the time of olde Reportes it for a stedfast truth?) of nature tough and harde, Began to warre both soft and smothe: and shortly afterwarde To winne therwith a better shape: and as they did encrease, A mylder nature in them grew, and rudenesse gan to cease. For at the first their shape was such, as in a certaine sort Resembled man, but of the right and perfect shape came short. Even like to Marble ymages new drawne and roughly wrought, Before the Carver by his Arte to purpose hath them brought. Such partes of them where any juice or moysture did abound, Or else were earthie, turned to flesh: and such as were so sound, And harde as would not bow nor bende did turne to bones: againe The part that was a veyne before, doth still his name retaine. Thus by the mightie powre of God ere lenger time was past, The mankinde was restorde by stones, the which a man did cast. And likewise also by the stones the which a woman threw, The womankinde repayred was and made againe of new. Of these are we the crooked ympes, and stonie race in deede, Bewraying by our toyling life, from whence we doe proceede. The lustie earth of owne accorde soone after forth did bring According to their sundrie shapes eche other living thing, As soone as that the moysture once caught heate against the Sunne, And that the fat and slimie mud in moorish groundes begunne To swell through warmth of Phebus beames, and that the fruitfull seede Of things well cherisht in the fat and lively soyle in deede, As in their mothers wombe, began in length of time to grow, To one or other kinde of shape wherein themselves to show. Even so when that seven mouthed Nile the watrie fieldes forsooke, And to his auncient channel eft his bridled streames betooke, So that the Sunne did heate the mud, the which he left behinde, The husbandmen that tilde the ground, among the cloddes did finde Of sundrie creatures sundrie shapes: of which they spied some, Even in the instant of their birth but newly then begonne, And some unperfect, wanting brest or shoulders in such wise, That in one bodie oftentimes appeared to the eyes One halfe thereof alive to be, and all the rest beside Both voyde of life and seemely shape, starke earth to still abide. For when that moysture with the heate is tempred equally, They doe conceyve: and of them twaine engender by and by All kinde of things. For though that fire with water aye debateth Yet moysture mixt with equall heate all living things createth. And so those discordes in their kinde, one striving with the other, In generation doe agree and make one perfect mother. And therfore when the mirie earth bespred with slimie mud, Brought over all but late before by violence of the flud, Caught heate by warmnesse of the Sunne, and calmenesse of the skie, Things out of number in the worlde, forthwith it did applie. Whereof in part the like before in former times had bene, And some so straunge and ougly shapes as never erst were sene. In that she did such Monsters breede, was greatly to hir woe, But yet thou, ougly Python, wert engendred by hir thoe. This saide, with drift of fethered wings in broken ayre he flue, And to the forkt and shadie top of Mount Parnasus drue. There from hys quiver full of shafts two arrowes did he take Of sundrie workes: t'one causeth Love, the tother doth it slake. That causeth love, is all of golde with point full sharpe and bright, That chaseth love is blunt, whose stele with leaden head is dight. The God this fired in the Nymph Peneis for the nones: The tother perst Apollos heart and overraft his bones. Immediatly in smoldring heate of Love the t'one did swelt, Againe the tother in hir heart no sparke nor motion felt. In woods and forrests is hir joy, the savage beasts to chase, And as the price of all hir paine to take the skinne and case. Unwedded Phebe doth she haunt and follow as hir guide, Unordred doe hir tresses wave scarce in a fillet tide. Full many a wooer sought hir love, she lothing all the rout, Impacient and without a man walkes all the woods about. And as for Hymen, or for love, and wedlocke often sought She tooke no care, they were the furthest end of all hir thought. Hir father many a time and oft would saye: My daughter deere, Thow owest me a sonneinlaw to be thy lawfull feere. Hir father many a time and oft would say: My daughter deere, Of Nephewes thou my debtour art, their Graundsires heart to cheere. She hating as a haynous crime the bonde of bridely bed Demurely casting downe hir eyes, and blushing somwhat red, Did folde about hir fathers necke with fauning armes: and sed: Deare father, graunt me while I live my maidenhead for to have, As to Diana here tofore hir father freely gave. Thy father (Daphne) could consent to that thou doest require, But that thy beautie and thy forme impugne thy chaste desire: So that thy will and his consent are nothing in this case, By reason of the beautie bright that shineth in thy face. Apollo loves and longs to have this Daphne to his Feere, And as he longs he hopes, but his foredoomes doe fayle him there. And as light hame when corne is reapt, or hedges burne with brandes, That passers by when day drawes neere throwe loosely fro their handes, So into flames the God is gone and burneth in his brest And feedes his vaine and barraine love in hoping for the best. Hir haire unkembd about hir necke downe flaring did he see, O Lord and were they trimd (quoth he) how seemely would she bee? He sees hir eyes as bright as fire the starres to represent, He sees hir mouth which to have seene he holdes him not content. Hir lillie armes mid part and more above the elbow bare, Hir handes, hir fingers and hir wrystes, him thought of beautie rare. And sure he thought such other parts as garments then did hyde, Excelled greatly all the rest the which he had espyde. But swifter than the whyrling winde shee flees and will not stay, To give the hearing to these wordes the which he had to say: I pray thee Nymph Penaeis stay, I chase not as a fo: Stay Nymph: the Lambes so flee the Wolves, the Stags the Lions so. With flittring feathers sielie Doves so from the Gossehauke flie, And every creature from his foe. Love is the cause that I Do followe thee: alas alas how would it grieve my heart, To see thee fall among the briers, and that the bloud should start Out of thy tender legges, I, wretch, the causer of thy smart. The place is rough to which thou runst, take leysure I thee pray, Abate thy flight, and I my selfe my running pace will stay. Yet would I wishe thee take advise, and wisely for to viewe What one he is that for thy grace in humble wise doth sewe. I am not one that dwelles among the hilles and stonie rockes, I am no sheepehearde with a Curre, attending on the flockes: I am no Carle nor countrie Clowne, nor neathearde taking charge Of cattle grazing here and there within this Forrest large. Thou doest not know, poore simple soule, God wote thou dost not knowe, From whome thou fleest. For if thou knew, thou wouldste not flee me so. In Delphos is my chiefe abode, my Temples also stande At Glaros and at Patara within the Lycian lande. And in the Ile of Tenedos the people honour mee. The king of Gods himselfe is knowne my father for to bee. By me is knowne that was, that is, and that that shall ensue, By mee men learne to sundrie tunes to frame sweete ditties true. In shooting have I stedfast hand, but surer hand had hee That made this wound within my heart that heretofore was free. Of Phisicke and of surgerie I found the Artes for neede, The powre of everie herbe and plant doth of my gift proceede. Nowe wo is me that nere an herbe can heale the hurt of love And that the Artes that others helpe their Lord doth helpelesse prove. As Phoebus would have spoken more, away Penaeis stale With fearefull steppes, and left him in the midst of all his tale. And as she ran the meeting windes hir garments backewarde blue, So that hir naked skinne apearde behinde hir as she flue, Hir goodly yellowe golden haire that hanged loose and slacke, With every puffe of ayre did wave and tosse behinde hir backe. Hir running made hir seeme more fayre, the youthfull God therefore Coulde not abyde to waste his wordes in dalyance any more. But as his love advysed him he gan to mende his pace, And with the better foote before, the fleeing Nymph to chace. And even as when the greedie Grewnde doth course the sielie Hare, Amiddes the plaine and champion fielde without all covert bare, Both twaine of them doe straine themselves and lay on footemanship, Who may best runne with all his force the tother to outstrip, The t'one for safetie of his lyfe, the tother for his pray, The Grewnde aye prest with open mouth to beare the Hare away, Thrusts forth his snoute and gyrdeth out and at hir loynes doth snatch, As though he would at everie stride betweene his teeth hir latch: Againe in doubt of being caught the Hare aye shrinking slips Upon the sodaine from his Jawes, and from betweene his lips: So farde Apollo and the Mayde: hope made Apollo swift, And feare did make the Mayden fleete devising how to shift. Howebeit he that did pursue of both the swifter went, As furthred by the feathred wings that Cupid had him lent, So that he would not let hir rest, but preased at hir heele So neere that through hir scattred haire she might his breathing feele. But when she sawe hir breath was gone and strength began to fayle The colour faded in hir cheekes, and ginning for to quayle, Shee looked to Penaeus streame and sayde: Nowe Father dere, And if yon streames have powre of Gods then help your daughter here. O let the earth devour me quicke, on which I seeme too fayre, Or else this shape which is my harme by chaunging straight appayre. This piteous prayer scarsly sed: hir sinewes waxed starke, And therewithall about hir breast did grow a tender barke. Hir haire was turned into leaves, hir armes in boughes did growe, Hir feete that were ere while so swift, now rooted were as slowe. Hir crowne became the toppe, and thus of that she earst had beene, Remayned nothing in the worlde, but beautie fresh and greene. Which when that Phoebus did beholde (affection did so move) The tree to which his love was turnde he coulde no lesse but love, And as he softly layde his hande upon the tender plant, Within the barke newe overgrowne he felt hir heart yet pant. And in his armes embracing fast hir boughes and braunches lythe, He proferde kisses to the tree, the tree did from him writhe. Well (quoth Apollo) though my Feere and spouse thou can not bee, Assuredly from this tyme forth yet shalt thou be my tree. Thou shalt adorne my golden lockes, and eke my pleasant Harpe, Thou shalt adorne my Quyver full of shaftes and arrowes sharpe. Thou shalt adorne the valiant knyghts and royall Emperours: When for their noble feates of armes like mightie conquerours, Triumphantly with stately pompe up to the Capitoll, They shall ascende with solemne traine that doe their deedes extoll. Before Augustus Pallace doore full duely shalt thou warde, The Oke amid the Pallace yarde aye faythfully to garde, And as my heade is never poulde nor never more without A seemely bushe of youthfull haire that spreadeth rounde about, Even so this honour give I thee continually to have Thy braunches clad from time to tyme with leaves both fresh and brave. Now when that Pean of this talke had fully made an ende, The Lawrell to his just request did seeme to condescende, By bowing of hir newe made boughs and tender braunches downe, And wagging of hir seemely toppe, as if it were hir crowne. There is a lande in Thessalie enclosd on every syde With wooddie hilles, that Timpe hight, through mid whereof doth glide Penaeus gushing full of froth from foote of Pindus hye, Which with his headlong falling downe doth cast up violently A mistie streame lyke flakes of smoke, besprinckling all about The toppes of trees on eyther side, and makes a roaring out That may be heard a great way off. This is the fixed seate, This is the house and dwelling place and chamber of the greate And mightie Ryver: Here he sittes in Court of Peeble stone, And ministers justice to the waves and to the Nymphes eche one, That in the Brookes and waters dwell. Now hither did resorte (Not knowing if they might rejoyce and unto mirth exhort Or comfort him) his Countrie Brookes, Sperchius well beseene With sedgie heade and shadie bankes of Poplars fresh and greene, Enipeus restlesse, swift and quicke, olde father Apidane, Amphrisus with his gentle streame, and Aeas clad with cane: With dyvers other Ryvers moe, which having runne their race, Into the Sea their wearie waves doe lead with restlesse pace. From hence the carefull Inachus absentes him selfe alone, Who in a corner of his cave with doolefull teares and mone, Augments the waters of his streame, bewayling piteously His daughter Io lately lost. He knewe not certainly And if she were alive or deade. But for he had hir sought And coulde not finde hir any where, assuredly he thought She did not live above the molde, ne drewe the vitall breath: Misgiving worser in his minde, if ought be worse than death. It fortunde on a certaine day that Jove espide this Mayde Come running from hir fathers streame alone: to whome he sayde: O Damsell worthie Jove himselfe, like one day for to make Some happie person whome thou list unto thy bed to take, I pray thee let us shroude our selves in shadowe here togither, Of this or that (he poynted both) it makes no matter whither, Untill the hotest of the day and Noone be overpast. And if for feare of savage beastes perchaunce thou be agast To wander in the Woods alone, thou shalt not neede to feare, A God shall bee thy guide to save thee harmelesse every where. And not a God of meaner sort, but even the same that hath The heavenly scepter in his hande, who in my dreadfull wrath, Do dart downe thunder wandringly: and therefore make no hast To runne away. She ranne apace, and had alreadie past The Fen of Lerna and the field of Lincey set with trees: When Jove intending now in vaine no lenger tyme to leese, Upon the Countrie all about did bring a foggie mist, And caught the Mayden whome poore foole he used as he list. Queene Juno looking downe that while upon the open field, When in so fayre a day such mistes and darkenesse she behelde, Dyd marvell much, for well she knewe those mistes ascended not From any Ryver, moorishe ground, or other dankishe plot. She lookt about hir for hir Jove as one that was acquainted With such escapes and with the deede had often him attainted. Whome when she founde not in the heaven: Onlesse I gesse amisse, Some wrong agaynst me (quoth she) now my husbande working is. And with that worde she left the Heaven, and downe to earth shee came, Commaunding all the mistes away. But Jove foresees the same, And to a Cow as white as milke his Leman he convayes. She was a goodly Heifer sure: and Juno did hir prayse, Although (God wot) she thought it not, and curiously she sought, Where she was bred, whose Cow she was, who had hir thither broughte As though she had not knowne the truth. Hir husband by and by (Bycause she should not search too neare) devisde a cleanly lie, And tolde hir that the Cow was bred even nowe out of the grounde. Then Juno who hir husbands shift at fingers endes had founde, Desirde to have the Cow of gift. What should he doe as tho? Great cruelnesse it were to yeelde his Lover to hir so. And not to give would breede mistrust. As fast as shame provoked, So fast agayne a tother side his Love his minde revoked. So much that Love was at the poynt to put all shame to flight. But that he feared if he should denie a gift so light As was a Cowe to hir that was his sister and his wyfe, Might make hir thinke it was no Cow, and breede perchaunce some strife. Now when that Juno had by gift hir husbands Leman got, Yet altogether out of feare and carelesse was she not. She had him in a jelousie and thoughtfull was she still For doubt he should invent some meanes to steale hir from hir: till To Argus, olde Aristors sonne, she put hir for to keepe. This Argus had an hundreth eyes: of which by turne did sleepe Alwayes a couple, and the rest did duely watch and warde, And of the charge they tooke in hande had ever good regarde, What way so ever Argus stood with face, with backe, or side, To Io warde, before his eyes did lo still abide. All day he let hir graze abroade, the Sunne once under ground He shut hir up and by the necke with wrythen Withe hir bound. With croppes of trees and bitter weedes now was she dayly fed, And in the stead of costly couch and good soft featherbed, She sate a nightes upon the ground, and on such ground whereas Was not sometime so much as grasse: and oftentymes she was Compeld to drinke of muddie pittes: and when she did devise To Argus for to lift hir handes in meeke and humble wise, She sawe she had no handes at all: and when she did assay To make complaint, she lowed out, which did hir so affray, That oft she started at the noyse, and would have runne away. Unto hir father Inachs banckes she also did resorte, Where many a tyme and oft before she had beene wont to sporte. Now when she looked in the streame, and sawe hir horned hed, She was agast and from hir selfe would all in hast have fled. The Nymphes hir sisters knewe hir not nor yet hir owne deare father, Yet followed she both him and them, and suffred them the rather To touch and stroke hir where they list, as one that preaced still To set hir selfe to wonder at and gaze upon their fill. The good old Inach puls up grasse and to hir straight it beares. She as she kyst and lickt his handes did shed forth dreerie teares. And had she had hir speach at will to utter forth hir thought, She would have tolde hir name and chaunce and him of helpe besought. But for bicause she could not speake, she printed in the sande, Two letters with hir foote, whereby was given to understande The sorrowfull chaunging of hir shape. Which seene straight cryed out Hir father Inach, Wo is me, and clasping hir about Hir white and seemely Heifers necke and christal hornes both twaine, He shrieked out full piteously: Now wo is me, again. Alas art thou my daughter deare, whome through the worlde I sought And could not finde, and now by chaunce art to my presence brought? My sorrow certesse lesser farre a thousande folde had beene If never had I seene thee more, than thus to have thee seene. Thou standst as dombe and to my wordes no answere can thou give, But from the bottom of thy heart full sorie sighes dost drive As tokens of thine inwarde griefe, and doolefully dost mooe Unto my talke, the onely thing leaft in thy powre to dooe. But I mistrusting nothing lesse than this so great mischaunce, By some great mariage earnestly did seeke thee to advaunce, In hope some yssue to have seene betweene my sonne and thee. But now thou must a husband have among the Heirds I see, And eke thine issue must be such as other cattels bee. Oh that I were a mortall wight as other creatures are, For then might death in length of time quite rid mee of this care, But now bycause I am a God, and fate doth death denie, There is no helpe but that my griefe must last eternallie. As Inach made this piteous mone quicke sighted Argus drave His daughter into further fieldes to which he could not have Accesse, and he himselfe aloof did get him to a hill, From whence he sitting at his ease viewd everie way at will. Now could no lenger Jove abide his Lover so forlorne, And thereupon he cald his sonne that Maia had him borne, Commaunding Argus should be kild. He made no long abod, But tyde his feathers to his feete, and tooke his charmed rod. (With which he bringeth things asleepe, and fetcheth soules from Hell) And put his Hat upon his head: and when that all was well He leaped from his fathers towres, and downe to earth he flue And there both Hat and winges also he lightly from him thrue, Retayning nothing but his staffe, the which he closely helde Betweene his elbowe and his side, and through the common fielde Went plodding lyke some good plaine soule that had some flocke to feede. And as he went he pyped still upon an Oten Reede. Queene Junos Heirdman farre in love with this straunge melodie Bespake him thus: Good fellow mine, I pray thee heartely Come sitte downe by me on this hill, for better feede I knowe Thou shalt not finde in all these fieldes, and (as the thing doth showe) It is a coole and shadowie plot, for sheepeheirds verie fitte. Downe by his elbow by and by did Atlas nephew sit. And for to passe the tyme withall for seeming overlong, He helde him talke of this and that, and now and than among He playd upon his merrie Pipe to cause his watching eyes To fall asleepe. Poore Argus did the best he could devise To overcome the pleasant nappes: and though that some did sleepe, Yet of his eyes the greater part he made their watch to keepe. And after other talke he askt (for lately was it founde) Who was the founder of that Pype that did so sweetely sounde. Then sayde the God: There dwelt sometime a Nymph of noble fame Among the hilles of Arcadie, that Syrinx had to name. Of all the Nymphes of Nonacris and Fairie farre and neere, In beautie and in personage thys Ladie had no peere. Full often had she given the slippe both to the Satyrs quicke And other Gods that dwell in Woods, and in the Forrests thicke, Or in the fruitfull fieldes abrode: It was hir whole desire To follow chaste Dianas guise in Maydenhead and attire, Whome she did counterfaite so nighe, that such as did hir see Might at a blush have taken hir Diana for to bee, But that the Nymph did in hir hande a bowe of Cornell holde, Whereas Diana evermore did beare a bowe of golde. And yet she did deceyve folke so. Upon a certaine day God Pan with garland on his heade of Pinetree, sawe hir stray From Mount Lyceus all alone, and thus to hir did say: Unto a Gods request, O Nymph, voucesafe thou to agree That doth desire thy wedded spouse and husband for to bee. There was yet more behinde to tell: as how that Syrinx fled, Through waylesse woods and gave no eare to that that Pan had sed, Untill she to the gentle streame of sandie Ladon came, Where, for bicause it was so deepe, she could not passe the same, She piteously to chaunge hir shape the water Nymphes besought: And how when Pan betweene his armes, to catch the Nymph had thought, In steade of hir he caught the Reedes newe growne upon the brooke, And as he sighed, with his breath the Reedes he softly shooke Which made a still and mourning noyse, with straungnesse of the which And sweetenesse of the feeble sounde the God delighted mich, Saide: Certesse, Syrinx, for thy sake it is my full intent, To make my comfort of these Reedes wherein thou doest lament: And how that there of sundrie Reedes with wax together knit, He made the Pipe which of hir name the Greekes call Syrinx yet. But as Cyllenius would have tolde this tale, he cast his sight On Argus, and beholde his eyes had bid him all good night. There was not one that did not sleepe, and fast he gan to nodde, Immediately he ceast his talke, and with his charmed rodde, So stroked all his heavie eyes that earnestly they slept. Then with his Woodknife by and by he lightly to him stept, And lent him such a perlous blowe, where as the shoulders grue Unto the necke, that straight his heade quite from the bodie flue. Then tombling downe the headlong hill his bloudie coarse he sent, That all the way by which he rolde was stayned and besprent. There lyest thou Argus under foote, with all thy hundreth lights, And all the light is cleane extinct that was within those sights. One endelesse night thy hundred eyes hath nowe bereft for aye, Yet would not Juno suffer so hir Heirdmans eyes decay: But in hir painted Peacocks tayle and feathers did them set, Where they remayne lyke precious stones and glaring eyes as yet. She tooke his death in great dispight and as hir rage did move, Determinde for to wreeke hir wrath upon hir husbandes Love. Forthwith she cast before hir eyes right straunge and ugly sightes, Compelling hir to thinke she sawe some Fiendes or wicked sprightes. And in hir heart such secret prickes and piercing stings she gave hir, As through the worlde from place to place with restlesse sorrow drave hir. Thou Nylus wert assignd to stay hir paynes and travails past, To which as soone as Io came with much adoe at last, With wearie knockles on thy brim she kneeled sadly downe, And stretching foorth hir faire long necke and christall horned crowne, Such kinde of countnaunce as she had she lifted to the skie, And there with sighing sobbes and teares and lowing doolefully Did seeme to make hir mone to Jove, desiring him to make Some ende of those hir troublous stormes endured for his sake. He tooke his wife about the necke, and sweetely kissing prayde, That Ios penance yet at length might by hir graunt be stayde. Thou shalt not neede to feare (quoth he) that ever she shall grieve thee From this day forth. And in this case the better to beleve mee, The Stygian waters of my wordes unparciall witnesse beene. As soone as Juno was appeasde, immediately was seene That Io tooke hir native shape in which she first was borne, And eke became the selfesame thing the which she was beforne. For by and by she cast away hir rough and hairie hyde, Insteede whereof a soft smouth skinne with tender fleshe did byde. Hir hornes sank down, hir eies and mouth were brought in lesser roome, Hir handes, hir shoulders, and hir armes in place againe did come. Hir cloven Clees to fingers five againe reduced were, On which the nayles lyke pollisht Gemmes did shine full bright and clere. In fine, no likenesse of a Cow save whitenesse did remaine So pure and perfect as no snow was able it to staine. She vaunst hir selfe upon hir feete which then was brought to two. And though she gladly would have spoke: yet durst she not so do, Without good heede, for feare she should have lowed like a Cow. And therefore softly with hir selfe she gan to practise how Distinctly to pronounce hir wordes that intermitted were. Now, as a Goddesse, is she had in honour everie where Among the folke that dwell by Nyle yclad in linnen weede. Of her in tyme came Epaphus begotten of the seede Of myghtie Jove. This noble ympe nowe joyntly with his mother, Through all the Cities of that lande have temples t'one with toother. There was his match in heart and yeares, the lustie Phaeton, A stalworth stripling strong and stout, the golden Phoebus sonne. Whome making proude and stately vauntes of his so noble race, And unto him in that respect in nothing giving place, The sonne of Io coulde not beare: but sayde unto him thus: No marvell though thou be so proude and full of wordes ywus. For everie fonde and trifling tale the which thy mother makes, Thy gyddie wit and hairebrainde heade forthwith for gospell takes. Well, vaunt thy selfe of Phoebus still, for when the truth is seene, Thou shalt perceyve that fathers name a forged thing to beene. At this reproch did Phaeton wax as red as any fire: Howbeit for the present tyme did shame represse his ire. Unto his mother Clymen straight he goeth to detect The spitefull wordes that Epaphus against him did object. Yes mother (quoth he) and which ought your greater griefe to bee, I who at other tymes of talke was wont to be so free And stoute, had neere a worde to say, I was ashamde to take So fowle a foyle: the more because I could none answere make. But if I be of heavenly race exacted as ye say, Then shewe some token of that highe and noble byrth I pray. And vouche me for to be of heaven. With that he gently cast His armes about his mothers necke, and clasping hir full fast, Besought hir as she lovde his life, and as she lovde the lyfe Of Merops, and had kept hir selfe as undefiled wyfe, And as she wished welthily his sisters to bestowe, She would some token give whereby his rightfull Sire to knowe. It is a doubtful matter whither Clymen moved more With this hir Phaetons earnest sute, exacting it so sore, Or with the slaunder of the bruit layde to hir charge before, Did holde up both hir handes to heaven, and looking on the Sunne, My right deare childe I safely sweare (quoth she to Phaeton) That of this starre the which so bright doth glister in thine eye: Of this same Sunne that cheares the world with light indifferently Wert thou begot: and if I fayne, then with my heart I pray, That never may I see him more unto my dying day. But if thou have so great desire thy father for to knowe, Thou shalt not neede in that behalfe much labour to bestowe. The place from whence he doth arise adjoyneth to our lande. And if thou thinke thy heart will serve, then go and understande The truth of him. When Phaeton heard his mother saying so, He gan to leape and skip for joye. He fed his fansie tho, Upon the Heaven and heavenly things: and so with willing minde, From Aethiop first his native home, and afterwarde through Inde Set underneath the morning starre he went so long, till as He founde me where his fathers house and dayly rising was. The Princely Pallace of the Sunne stood gorgeous to beholde On stately Pillars builded high of yellow burnisht golde, Beset with sparckling Carbuncles that like to fire did shine. The roofe was framed curiously of Ivorie pure and fine. The two doore leaves of silver cleare a radiant light did cast: But yet the cunning workemanship of things therein farre past The stuffe wherof the doores were made. For there a perfect plat Had Vulcane drawne of all the worlde: Both of the sourges that Embrace the earth with winding waves, and of the stedfast ground, And of the heaven it selfe also that both encloseth round. And first and formest in the Sea the Gods thereof did stande: Loude sounding Tryton with his shirle and writhen Trumpe in hande: Unstable Protew chaunging aye his figure and his hue, From shape to shape a thousande sithes as list him to renue: Aegeon leaning boystrously on backes of mightie Whales And Doris with hir daughters all: of which some cut the wales With splaied armes, some sate on rockes and dride their goodly haire, And some did ryde uppon the backes of fishes here and theare. Not one in all poyntes fully lyke an other coulde ye see, Nor verie farre unlike, but such as sisters ought to bee. The Earth had townes, men, beasts and Woods with sundrie trees and rods, And running Ryvers with their Nymphes and other countrie Gods. Directly over all these same the plat of heaven was pight, Upon the two doore leaves, the signes of all the Zodiak bright, Indifferently six on the left and six upon the right. When Clymens sonne had climbed up at length with weerie pace, And set his foote within his doubted fathers dwelling place, Immediately he preaced forth to put him selfe in sight, And stoode aloofe. For neere at hande he could not bide the light. In purple Robe and royall Throne of Emeraudes freshe and greene Did Phoebus sitte, and on eche hande stoode wayting well beseene, Dayes, Monthes, yeares, ages, seasons, times, and eke the equall houres. There stoode the springtime with a crowne of fresh and fragrant floures. There wayted Sommer naked starke all save a wheaten Hat: And Autumne smerde with treading grapes late at the pressing Vat. And lastly quaking for the colde, stood Winter all forlorne, With rugged heade as white as Dove, and garments all to torne, Forladen with the Isycles that dangled up and downe Uppon his gray and hoarie bearde and snowie frozen crowne. The Sunne thus sitting in the middes did cast his piercing eye, (With which full lightly when he list he all thinges doth espye) Upon his childe that stood aloofe, agast and trembling sore At sight of such unwonted things, and thus bespake him thore: O noble ympe, O Phaeton which art not such (I see) Of whome thy father should have cause ashamed for to bee: Why hast thou traveld to my court? what is thy will with mee? Then answerde he: Of all the worlde O onely perfect light, O Father Phoebus, (if I may usurpe that name of right, And that my mother for to save hir selfe from worldely shame, Hyde not hir fault with false pretence and colour of thy name) Some signe apparant graunt whereby I may be knowne thy Sonne, And let mee hang no more in doubt. He had no sooner donne, But that his father putting off the bright and fierie beames That glistred rounde about his heade like cleare and golden streames, Commaunded him to draw him neere, and him embracing sayde: To take mee for thy rightfull Sire thou neede not be afrayde. Thy mother Clymen of a truth from falshood standeth free. And for to put thee out of doubt aske what thou wilt of mee, And I will give thee thy desire, the Lake whereby of olde We Gods do sweare (the which mine eyes did never yet beeholde) Beare witnesse with thee of my graunt. He scarce this tale had tolde, But that the foolish Phaeton straight for a day did crave The guyding of his winged Steedes, and Chariot for to have. Then did his Father by and by forethinke him of his oth. And shaking twentie tymes his heade, as one that was full wroth, Bespake him thus: Thy wordes have made me rashly to consent To that which shortly both of us (I feare mee) shall repent. Oh that I might retract my graunt, my sonne I doe protest I would denie thee nothing else save this thy fond request. I may disswade, there lyes herein more perill than thou weene: The things the which thou doest desire of great importance beene: More than thy weakenesse well can wielde, a charge (as well appeares) Of greater weight, than may agree with these thy tender yeares. Thy state is mortall, weake and frayle, the thing thou doest desire Is such, whereto no mortall man is able to aspire. Yea, foolish boy, thou doest desire (and all for want of wit) A greater charge than any God coulde ever have as yet. For were there any of them all so overseene and blinde, To take upon him this my charge, full quickly should he finde That none but I could sit upon the fierie Axeltree. No not even he that rules this wast and endlesse space we see, Not he that darts with dreadfull hande the thunder from the Skie, Shall drive this chare. And yet what thing in all the world perdie Is able to compare with Jove? Now first the morning way Lyes steepe upright, so that the steedes in coolest of the day And beeing fresh have much adoe to climbe against the Hyll. Amiddes the heaven the gastly heigth augmenteth terror still. My heart doth waxe as colde as yse full many a tyme and oft For feare to see the Sea and land from that same place aloft. The Evening way doth fall plump downe requiring strength to guide, That Tethis who doth harbrowgh mee within hir sourges wide Doth stand in feare lest from the heaven I headlong down should slide. Besides all this the Heaven aye swimmes and wheeles about full swift And with his rolling dryves the starres their proper course to shift. Yet doe I keepe my native course against this brunt so stout, Not giving place as others doe: but boldely bearing out The force and swiftnesse of that heaven that whyrleth so about. Admit thou had my winged Steedes and Chariot in thine hande: What couldste thou doe? dost thinke thy selfe well able to withstande The swiftnesse of the whyrled Poles, but that their brunt and sway (Yea doe the best and worst thou can) shall beare thee quite away? Perchaunce thou dost imagine there some townes of Gods to finde, With groves and Temples richt with giftes as is among mankinde. Thou art deceyved utterly: thou shalt not finde it so. By blinde bywayes and ugly shapes of monsters must thou go. And though thou knewe the way so well as that thou could not stray, Betweene the dreadful bulles sharp hornes yet must thou make thy way. Agaynst the cruell Bowe the which the Aemonian archer drawes: Against the ramping Lyon armde with greedie teeth and pawes: Against the Scorpion stretching farre his fell and venymd clawes: And eke the Crab that casteth forth his crooked clees awrie Not in such sort as th'other doth, and yet as dreadfully. Againe thou neyther hast the powre nor yet the skill I knowe My lustie coursers for to guide that from their nostrilles throwe And from their mouthes the fierie breath that breedeth in their brest. For scarcely will they suffer mee who knowes their nature best When that their cruell courages begin to catch a heate, That hardely should I deale with them, but that I know the feate. But lest my gift should to thy griefe and utter perill tend My Sonne beware and (whyle thou mayst) thy fonde request amend. Bycause thou woulde be knowne to bee my childe thou seemst to crave A certaine signe: what surer signe I pray thee canst thou have Than this my feare so fatherly the which I have of thee Which proveth me most certainly thy father for to bee? Beholde and marke my countenaunce. would to God thy sight Could pierce within my wofull brest, to see the heavie plight, And heapes of cares within my heart. Looke through the worlde so round Of all the wealth and goodes therein: if ought there may be found In Heaven or Earth or in the Sea, aske what thou lykest best, And sure it shall not be denide. This onely one request That thou hast made I heartely beseech thee to relent, Which for to tearme the thing aright is even a punishment, And not an honour as thou thinkest: my Phaeton thou dost crave In stead of honour even a scourge and punishment for to have. Thou fondling thou, what dost thou meane with fawning armes about My necke thus flattringly to hang? Thou needest not to dout. I have alreadie sworne by Styx, aske what thou wilt of mee And thou shalt have. Yet let thy next wish somewhat wiser bee Thus ended his advertisment: and yet the wilfull Lad Withstood his counsell urging still the promisse that he had, Desiring for to have the chare as if he had been mad. His father having made delay as long as he could shift, Did lead him where his Chariot stood, which was of Vulcans gift. The Axeltree was massie golde, the Bucke was massie golde, The utmost fellies of the wheeles, and where the tree was rolde. The spokes were all of sylver bright, the Chrysolites and Gemmes That stood uppon the Collars, Trace, and hounces in their hemmes Did cast a sheere and glimmering light, as Phoebus shone thereon. Now while the lustie Phaeton stood gazing here upon, And wondered at the workemanship of everie thing: beeholde The earely morning in the East beegan mee to unfolde Hir purple Gates, and shewde hir house bedeckt with Roses red. The twinckling starres withdrew which by the morning star are led: Who as the Captaine of that Host that hath no peere nor match, Dooth leave his standing last of all within that heavenly watch. Now when his Father sawe the worlde thus glister red and trim, And that his waning sisters hornes began to waxen dim, He had the fetherfooted howres go harnesse in his horse. The Goddesses with might and mayne themselves thereto enforce. His fierifoming Steedes full fed with juice of Ambrosie They take from Maunger trimly dight: and to their heades doe tie Strong reyned bits: and to the Charyot doe them well appoint. Then Phoebus did with heavenly salve his Phaetons heade annoint, That scorching fire coulde nothing hurt: which done, upon his haire He put the fresh and golden rayes himselfe was wont to weare. And then as one whose heart misgave the sorrowes drawing fast, With sorie sighes he thus bespake his retchlesse sonne at last: (And if thou canst) at least yet this thy fathers lore obay: Sonne, spare the whip, and reyne them hard, they run so swift away As that thou shalt have much adoe their fleeing course to stay. Directly through the Zones all five beware thou doe not ride, A brode byway cut out askew that bendeth on the side Contaynde within the bondes of three the midmost Zones doth lie: Which from the grisely Northren beare, and Southren Pole doth flie. Keepe on this way: my Charyot rakes thou plainely shalt espie And to th'intent that heaven and earth may well the heate endure, Drive neyther over high nor yet too lowe. For be thou sure, And if thou mount above thy boundes, the starres thou burnest cleane. Againe beneath thou burnst the Earth: most safetie is the meane. And least perchaunce thou overmuch the right hand way should take, And so misfortune should thee drive upon the writhen Snake, Or else by taking overmuche upon the lefter hand Unto the Aultar thou be driven that doth against it stand: Indifferently betweene them both I wish thee for to ride. The rest I put to fortunes will, who be thy friendly guide, And better for thee than thy selfe as in this case provide. Whiles that I prattle here with thee, behold the dankish night Beyond all Spaine hir utmost bound is passed out of sight. We may no lenger tariance make: my wonted light is cald, The Morning with hir countnance cleare the darknesse hath appald. Take raine in hand, or if thy minde by counsell altred bee, Refuse to meddle with my Wayne: and while thou yet art free, And doste at ease within my house in safegarde well remaine, Of this thine unadvised wish not feeling yet the paine, Let me alone with giving still the world his wonted light, And thou thereof as heretofore enjoy the harmelesse sight. Thus much in vaine: for Phaeton both yong in yeares and wit, Into the Chariot lightly lept, and vauncing him in it Was not a little proud that he the brydle gotten had. He thankt his father whom it grievde to see his childe so mad. While Phebus and his rechelesse sonne were entertalking this, Aeous, Aethon, Phlegon, and the firie Pyrois, The restlesse horses of the Sunne, began to ney so hie Wyth flaming breath, that all the heaven might heare them perfectly. And with their hoves they mainly beate upon the lattisde grate. The which when Tethis (knowing nought of this hir cousins fate) Had put aside, and given the steedes the free and open scope Of all the compasse of the Skie within the heavenly Cope: They girded forth, and cutting through the Cloudes that let their race, With splayed wings they overflew the Easterne winde apace. The burthen was so lyght as that the Genets felt it not. The wonted weight was from the Waine, the which they well did wot. For like as ships amids the Seas that scant of ballace have, Doe reele and totter with the wynde, and yeeld to every wave: Even so the Waine for want of weight it erst was wont to beare, Did hoyse aloft and scayle and reele, as though it empty were. Which when the Cartware did perceyve, they left the beaten way And taking bridle in the teeth began to run astray. The rider was so sore agast, he knew no use of Rayne, Nor yet his way: and though he had, yet had it ben in vayne, Because he wanted powre to rule the horses and the Wayne. Then first did sweat cold Charles his Wain through force of Phebus rayes And in the Sea forbidden him, to dive in vaine assayes. The Serpent at the frozen Pole both colde and slow by kinde, Through heat waxt wroth, and stird about a cooler place to finde. And thou Bootes though thou be but slow of footemanship, Yet wert thou faine (as Fame reports) about thy Waine to skip. Now when unhappy Phaeton from top of all the Skie Behelde the Earth that underneath a great way off did lie, He waxed pale for sodaine feare, his joynts and sinewes quooke, The greatnesse of the glistring light his eyesight from him tooke. Now wisht he that he never had his fathers horses see: It yrkt him that he thus had sought to learne his piedegre. It grievde him that he had prevailde in gaining his request. To have bene counted Merops sonne he thought it now the best. Thus thinking was he headlong driven, as when a ship is borne By blustring windes, hir saileclothes rent, hir sterne in pieces torne, And tacling brust, the which the Pilote trusting all to prayre Abandons wholy to the Sea and fortune of the ayre. What should he doe? much of the heaven he passed had behinde And more he saw before: both whiche he measurde in his minde, Eft looking forward to the West which to approch as then Might not betide, and to the East eft looking backe agen. He wist not what was best to doe, his wittes were ravisht so. For neither could he hold the Reynes, nor yet durst let them go. And of his horses names was none that he remembred tho. Straunge uncoth Monsters did he see dispersed here and there And dreadfull shapes of ugly beasts that in the Welkin were. There is a certaine place in which the hidious Scorpion throwes His armes in compasse far abrode, much like a couple of bowes, With writhen tayle and clasping cles, whose poyson limmes doe stretch On every side, that of two signes they full the roume doe retch, Whome when the Lad beheld all moyst with blacke and lothly swet, With sharpe and nedlepointed sting as though he seemde to thret, He was so sore astraught for feare, he let the bridels slacke, Which when the horses felt lie lose upon their sweating backe, At rovers straight throughout the Ayre by wayes unknowne they ran Whereas they never came before since that the worlde began. For looke what way their lawlesse rage by chaunce and fortune drue Without controlment or restraint that way they freely flue Among the starres that fixed are within the firmament They snatcht the Chariot here and there. One while they coursing went Upon the top of all the skie: anon againe full round They troll me downe to lower wayes and nearer to the ground, So that the Moone was in a Maze to see hir brothers Waine Run under hirs: the singed cloudes began to smoke amaine. Eche ground the higher that it was and nearer to the Skie The sooner was it set on fire, and made therewith so drie That every where it gan to chinke. The Medes and Pastures greene Did seare away: and with the leaves, the trees were burned cleene. The parched corne did yeelde wherewith to worke his owne decaie. Tushe, these are trifles. Mightie townes did perish that same daie. Whose countries with their folke were burnt: and forests ful of wood Were turnde to ashes with the rocks and mountains where they stood. Then Athe, Cilician, Taure and Tmole and Oeta flamed hie, And Ide erst full of flowing springs was then made utter drie. The learned virgins daily haunt, the sacred Helicon, And Thracian Hemus (not as yet surnamde Oeagrion,) Did smoke both twaine: and Aetna hote of nature aye before, Encreast by force of Phebus flame now raged ten times more. The forkt Parnasus, Eryx, Cynth, and Othrys then did swelt And all the snow of Rhodope did at that present melt. The like outrage Mount Dindymus, and Mime and Micale felt. Cytheron borne to sacred use with Osse, and Pindus hie And Olymp greater than them both did burne excessively. The passing colde that Scithie had defended not the same But that the barren Caucasus was partner of this flame. And so were eke the Airie Alpes and Appennyne beside, For all the Cloudes continually their snowie tops doe hide. Then wheresoever Phaeton did chaunce to cast his vew, The world was all on flaming fire. The breath the which he drew, Came smoking from his scalding mouth as from a seething pot. His Chariot also under him began to waxe red hot. He could no lenger dure the sparkes and cinder flyeng out, Againe the culme and smouldring smoke did wrap him round about, The pitchie darkenesse of the which so wholy had him hent As that he wist not where he was nor yet which way he went. The winged horses forcibly did draw him where they wolde. The Aethiopians at that time (as men for truth upholde) (The bloud by force of that same heate drawne to the outer part And there adust from that time forth) became so blacke and swart. The moysture was so dried up in Lybie land that time That altogither drie and scorcht continueth yet that Clyme. The Nymphes with haire about their eares bewayld their springs and lakes. Beotia for hir Dyrces losse great lamentation makes. For Amimone Argos wept, and Corinth for the spring Pyrene, at whose sacred streame the Muses usde to sing. The Rivers further from the place were not in better case, For Tanais in his deepest streame did boyle and steme apace, Old Penew and Caycus of the countrie Teuthranie, And swift Ismenos in their bankes by like misfortune frie. Then burnde the Psophian Erymanth: and (which should burne ageine) The Trojan Xanthus and Lycormas with his yellow veine, Meander playing in his bankes aye winding to and fro, Migdonian Melas with his waves as blacke as any slo. Eurotas running by the foote of Tenare boyled tho. Then sod Euphrates cutting through the middes of Babilon. Then sod Orontes, and the Scithian swift Thermodoon. Then Ganges, Colchian Phasis, and the noble Istre Alpheus and Sperchius bankes with flaming fire did glistre. The golde that Tagus streame did beare did in the chanell melt. Amid Cayster of this fire the raging heat was felt Among the quieres of singing Swannes that with their pleasant lay Along the bankes of Lidian brakes from place to place did stray. And Nyle for feare did run away into the furthest Clyme Of all the world, and hid his heade, which to this present tyme Is yet unfound: his mouthes all seven cleane voyde of water beene, Like seven great valleys where (save dust) could nothing else be seene. By like misfortune Hebrus dride and Strymon, both of Thrace. The Westerne Rivers Rhine and Rhone and Po were in like case: And Tyber unto whome the Goddes a faithfull promise gave Of all the world the Monarchie and soveraigne state to have. The ground did cranie everie where and light did pierce to hell And made afraide the King and Queene that in that Realme doe dwell. The Sea did shrinke and where as waves did late before remaine, Became a Champion field of dust and even a sandy plaine. The hilles erst hid farre under waves like Ilelandes did appeare So that the scattred Cyclades for the time augmented were. The fishes drew them to the deepes: the Dolphines durst not play Above the water as before, the Seales and Porkpis lay With bellies upward on the waves starke dead: and fame doth go That Nereus with his wife and daughters all were faine as tho To dive within the scalding waves. Thrise Neptune did advaunce His armes above the scalding Sea with sturdy countenaunce: And thrise for hotenesse of the Ayre, was faine himselfe to hide. But yet the Earth the Nurce of things enclosde on every side (Betweene the waters of the Sea and Springs that now had hidden Themselves within their Mothers wombe) for all the paine abidden, Up to the necke put forth hir head and casting up hir hand, Betweene hir forehead and the sunne as panting she did stand With dreadfull quaking, all that was she fearfully did shake, And shrinking somewhat lower downe with sacred voyce thus spake: O king of Gods and if this be thy will and my desart, Why doste thou stay with deadly dint thy thunder downe to dart? And if that needes I perish must through force of firie flame, Let thy celestiall fire O God I pray thee doe the same. A comfort shall it be to have thee Author of my death. I scarce have powre to speak these words (the smoke had stopt hir breath). Behold my singed haire: behold my dim and bleared eye, See how about my scorched face the scalding embers flie. Is this the guerdon wherewithall ye quite my fruitfulnesse? Is this the honor that ye gave me for my plenteousnesse And dutie done with true intent? for suffring of the plough To draw deepe woundes upon my backe and rakes to rend me through? For that I over all the yeare continually am wrought? For giving foder to the beasts and cattell all for nought? For yeelding corne and other foode wherewith to keepe mankinde? And that to honor you withall sweete frankinsence I finde? But put the case that my desert destruction duely crave, What hath thy brother? what the Seas deserved for to have? Why doe the Seas, his lotted part, thus ebbe and fall so low, Withdrawing from thy Skie to which it ought most neare to grow? But if thou neyther doste regarde thy brother, neyther mee, At least have mercy on thy heaven, looke round about and see How both the Poles begin to smoke which if the fire appall To utter ruine (be thou sure) thy pallace needes must fall. Behold how Atlas ginnes to faint. His shoulders though full strong, Unneth are able to uphold the sparkling Extree long. If Sea and Land doe go to wrecke, and heaven it selfe doe burne To olde confused Chaos then of force we must returne. Put to thy helping hand therfore to save the little left If ought remaine before that all be quite and cleane bereft. When ended was this piteous plaint, the Earth did hold hir peace. She could no lenger dure the heate but was compelde to cease. Into hir bosome by and by she shrunke hir cinged heade More nearer to the Stygian caves, and ghostes of persones deade. The Sire of Heaven protesting all the Gods and him also That lent the Chariot to his child, that all of force must go To havocke if he helped not, went to the highest part And top of all the Heaven from whence his custome was to dart His thunder and his lightning downe. But neyther did remaine A Cloude wherewith to shade the Earth, nor yet a showre of raine. Then with a dreadfull thunderclap up to his eare he bent His fist, and at the Wagoner a flash of lightning sent, Which strake his bodie from the life and threw it over wheele And so with fire he quenched fire. The Steedes did also reele Upon their knees, and starting up sprang violently, one here, And there another, that they brast in pieces all their gere. They threw the Collars from their neckes, and breaking quite asunder The Trace and Harnesse flang away: here lay the bridles: yonder The Extree plucked from the Naves: and in another place The shevered spokes of broken wheeles: and so at every pace The pieces of the Chariot torne lay strowed here and there. But Phaeton (fire yet blasing stil among his yellow haire) Shot headlong downe, and glid along the Region of the Ayre Like to a starre in Winter nights (the wether cleare and fayre) Which though it doe not fall in deede, yet falleth to our sight, Whome almost in another world and from his countrie quite The River Padus did receyve, and quencht his burning head. The water Nymphes of Italie did take his carkasse dead And buried it yet smoking still, with Joves threeforked flame, And wrate this Epitaph in the stone that lay upon the same: Here lies the lusty Phaeton which tooke in hand to guide His fathers Chariot, from the which although he chaunst to slide: Yet that he gave a proud attempt it cannot be denide. Wyth ruthfull cheere and heavie heart his father made great mone And would not shew himselfe abrode, but mournd at home alone. And if it be to be beleved, as bruited is by fame A day did passe without the Sunne. The brightnesse of the flame Gave light: and so unto some kinde of use that mischiefe came. But Clymen having spoke, as much as mothers usually Are wonted in such wretched case, discomfortablely, And halfe beside hir selfe for wo, with torne and scratched brest, Sercht through the universall world, from East to furthest West, First seeking for hir sonnes dead coarse, and after for his bones. She found them by a forren streame, entumbled under stones. There fell she groveling on his grave, and reading there his name, Shed teares thereon, and layd hir breast all bare upon the same. The daughters also of the Sunne no lesse than did their mother, Bewaild in vaine with flouds of teares, the fortune of their brother: And beating piteously their breasts, incessantly did call The buried Phaeton day and night, who heard them not at all, About whose tumbe they prostrate lay. Foure times the Moone had filde The Circle of hir joyned hornes, and yet the sisters hilde Their custome of lamenting still: (for now continuall use Had made it custome.) Of the which the eldest, Phaetuse, About to kneele upon the ground, complaynde hir feete were nom. To whome as fayre Lampetie was rising for to com, Hir feete were held with sodaine rootes. The third about to teare Hir ruffled lockes, filde both hir handes with leaves in steade of heare. One wept to see hir legges made wood: another did repine To see hir armes become long boughes. And shortly to define, While thus they wondred at themselves, a tender barke began To grow about their thighes and loynes, which shortly overran Their bellies, brestes, and shoulders eke, and hands successively, That nothing (save their mouthes) remainde, aye calling piteously Upon the wofull mothers helpe. What could the mother doe But runne now here now there, as force of nature drue hir to And deale hir kisses while she might? She was not so content: But tare their tender braunches downe: and from the slivers went Red drops of bloud as from a wound. The daughter that was rent Cride: Spare us mother spare I pray, for in the shape of tree The bodies and the flesh of us your daughters wounded bee. And now farewell. That word once said, the barke grew over all. Now from these trees flow gummy teares that Amber men doe call, Which hardened with the heate of sunne as from the boughs they fal The trickling River doth receyve, and sendes as things of price To decke the daintie Dames of Rome and make them fine and nice. Now present at this monstruous hap was Cygnus, Stenels son, Who being by the mothers side akinne to Phaeton Was in condicion more akinne. He leaving up his charge (For in the land of Ligurie his Kingdome stretched large) Went mourning all along the bankes and pleasant streame of Po Among the trees encreased by the sisters late ago. Annon his voyce became more small and shrill than for a man. Gray fethers muffled in his face: his necke in length began Far from his shoulders for to stretche: and furthermore there goes A fine red string acrosse the joyntes in knitting of his toes: With fethers closed are his sides: and on his mouth there grew A brode blunt byll: and finally was Cygnus made a new And uncoth fowle that hight a Swan, who neither to the winde, The Ayre, nor Jove betakes himselfe, as one that bare in minde The wrongfull fire sent late against his cousin Phaeton. In Lakes and Rivers is his joy: the fire he aye doth shon, And chooseth him the contrary continually to won. Forlorne and altogether voyde of that same bodie shene Was Phaetons father in that while which erst had in him bene, Like as he looketh in Th'eclypse. He hates the yrkesome light, He hates him selfe, he hates the day, and settes his whole delight In making sorrow for his sonne, and in his griefe doth storme - And chaufe denying to the worlde his dutie to performe. My lot (quoth he) hath had inough of this unquiet state From first beginning of the worlde. It yrkes me (though too late) Of restlesse toyles and thankelesse paines. Let who so will for me Go drive the Chariot in the which the light should caried be. If none dare take the charge in hand, and all the Gods persist As insufficient, he himselfe go drive it if he list, That at the least by venturing our bridles for to guide His lightning making childlesse Sires he once may lay aside. By that time that he hath assayde the unappalled force That doth remaine and rest within my firiefooted horse, I trow he shall by tried proufe be able for to tell How that he did not merit death that could not rule them well. The Goddes stoode all about the Sunne thus storming in his rage Beseching him in humble wise his sorrow to asswage. And that he would not on the world continuall darkenesse bring, Jove eke excusde him of the fire the which he chaunst to sling, And with entreatance mingled threates as did become a King. Then Phebus gathered up his steedes that yet for feare did run Like flaighted fiendes, and in his moode without respect begun To beate his whipstocke on their pates and lash them on the sides. It was no neede to bid him chaufe; for ever as he rides He still upbraides them with his sonne, and layes them on the hides. And Jove almighty went about the walles of heaven to trie If ought were perisht with the fire, which when he did espie Continuing in their former state, all strong and safe and sound, He went to vew the workes of men, and things upon the ground. Yet for his land of Arcadie he tooke most care and charge. The Springs and streames that durst not run he set againe at large. He clad the earth with grasse, the trees with leaves both fresh and greene Commaunding woods to spring againe that erst had burned bene. Now as he often went and came it was his chaunce to light Upon a Nymph of Nonacris whose forme and beautie bright Did set his heart on flaming fire. She used not to spinne Nor yet to curle hir frisled haire with bodkin or with pinne. A garment with a buckled belt fast girded did she weare And in a white and slender Call slight trussed was hir heare. Sometimes a dart sometime a bow she used for to beare. She was a knight of Phebes troope. There came not at the mount Of Menalus of whome Diana made so great account. But favor never lasteth long. The Sunne had gone that day A good way past the poynt of Noone: when werie of hir way She drue to shadowe in a wood that never had bene cut. Here off hir shoulder by and by hir quiver did she put, And hung hir bow unbent aside, and coucht hir on the ground, Hir quiver underneth hir head. Whom when that Jove had found Alone and wearie: Sure (he said) my wife shall never know Of this escape, and if she do, I know the worst I trow. She can but chide, shall feare of chiding make me to forslow? He counterfeiteth Phebe streight in countnance and aray. And says: O virgine of my troope, where didst thou hunt to day? The Damsell started from the ground and said: Hayle Goddesse deare, Of greater worth than Jove (I thinke) though Jove himselfe did heare. Jove heard hir well and smylde thereat, it made his heart rejoyce To heare the Nymph preferre him thus before himselfe in choyce. He fell to kissing: which was such as out of square might seeme, And in such sort as that a mayde coulde nothing lesse beseeme. And as she would have told what woods she ranged had for game, He tooke hir fast betweene his armes, and not without his shame, Bewrayed plainly what he was and wherefore that he came. The wench against him strove as much as any woman could: I would that Juno had it seene. For then I know thou would Not take the deede so heynously: with all hir might she strove. But what poore wench or who alive could vanquish mighty Jove? Jove having sped flue straight to heaven. She hateth in hir hart The guiltlesse fields and wood where Jove had playd that naughty part, Alwaye she goes in such a griefe as that she had welnie Forgot hir quiver with hir shaftes and bow that hanged by. Dictynna, garded with hir traine and proude of killing Deere, In raunging over Menalus, espying, cald hir neere. The Damsell hearing Phebe call did run away amaine, She feared lest in Phebes shape that Jove had come againe, But when she saw the troope of Nymphes that garded hir about, She thought there was no more deceyt, and came among the rout. Oh Lord how hard a matter ist for guiltie hearts to shift And kepe their countnance? from the ground hir eyes scarce durst she lift. She prankes not by hir mistresse side, she preases not to bee The foremost of the companie, as when she erst was free. She standeth muet: and by chaunging of hir colour ay The treading of hir shooe awrie she plainely doth bewray, Diana might have founde the fault but that she was a May. A thousand tokens did appeare apparant to the eye, By which the Nymphes themselves (they say) hir fault did well espie. Nine times the Moone full to the worlde had shewde hir horned face When fainting through hir brothers flames and hunting in the chace. She found a coole and shadie lawnde through midst whereof she spide A shallow brooke with trickling streame on gravell bottom glide. And liking well the pleasant place, upon the upper brim She dipt hir foote, and finding there the water coole and trim, Away (she sayd) with standers by: and let us bath us here. Then Parrhasis cast downe hir head with sad and bashfull chere. The rest did strip them to their skinnes. She only sought delay, Untill that would or would she not hir clothes were pluckt away. Then with hir naked body straight hir crime was brought to light. Which yll ashamde as with hir hands she would have hid from sight, Fie beast (quoth Cynthia) get thee hence, thou shalt not here defile This sacred Spring, and from hir traine she did hir quite exile. The Matrone of the thundring Jove had inckling of the fact, Delaying till convenient time the punishment to exact. There is no cause of further stay. To spight hir heart withall, Hir husbands Leman bare a boy that Arcas men did call. On whome she casting lowring looke with fell and cruell minde Saide: Was there, arrant strumpet thou, none other shift to finde But that thou needes must be with barne? that all the world must see My husbandes open shame and thine in doing wrong to mee? But neyther unto heaven nor hell this trespasse shalt thou beare. I will bereve thee of thy shape through pride whereof thou were So hardy to entyce my Feere. Immediatly with that She raught hir by the foretop fast and fiercely threw hir flat Against the grounde. The wretched wench hir armes up mekely cast, Hir armes began with griesly haire to waxe all rugged fast. Hir handes gan warpe and into pawes ylfavordly to grow, And for to serve in stede of feete. The lippes that late ago Did like the mightie Jove so well, with side and flaring flaps Became a wide deformed mouth. And further lest perhaps Hir prayers and hir humble wordes might cause hir to relent: She did bereve hir of hir speach. In steade whereof there went An yreful, horce, and dreadfull voyce out from a threatning throte: But yet the selfesame minde that was before she turnde hir cote, Was in hir still in shape of Beare. The griefe whereof she showes By thrusting forth continuall sighes, and up she gastly throwes Such kinde of handes as then remainde unto the starrie Skie. And forbicause she could not speake she thought Jove inwardly To be unthankfull. Oh how oft she daring not abide Alone among the desert woods, full many a time and tide Would stalke before hir house in grounds that were hir owne erewhile? How oft oh did she in the hilles the barking houndes beguile And in the lawndes where she hir selfe had chased erst hir game, Now flie hirselfe to save hir life when hunters sought the same? Full oft at sight of other beastes she hid hir head for feare, Forgetting what she was hir selfe. For though she were a Beare, Yet when she spied other Beares she quooke for verie paine: And feared Wolves although hir Sire among them did remaine. Beholde Lycaons daughters sonne that Archas had to name About the age of fiftene yeares within the forrest came Of Erymanth, not knowing ought of this his mothers case. There after pitching of his toyles, as he the stagges did chase, Upon his mother sodenly it was his chaunce to light, Who for desire to see hir sonne did stay hirselfe from flight. And wistly on him cast hir looke as one that did him know. But he not knowing what she was began his heeles to show. And when he saw hir still persist in staring on his face, He was afrayde, and from hir sight withdrew himselfe apace, But when he coulde not so be rid, he tooke an armed pike, In full intent hir through the heart with deadly wound to strike. But God almighty held his hand, and lifting both away Did disapoint the wicked Act. For straight he did convay Them through the Ayre with whirling windes to top of all the skie, And there did make them neighbour starres about the Pole on hie. When Juno shining in the heaven hir husbands minion found, She swelde for spight: and downe she comes to watry Tethys round And unto olde Oceanus, whome even the Gods aloft Did reverence for their just deserts full many a time and oft, To whome demaunding hir the cause: And aske ye (quoth she) why That I which am the Queene of Goddes come hither from the sky? Good cause there is I warrant you. Another holdes my roome. For never trust me while I live, if when the night is coome, And overcasteth all the world with shadie darknesse whole, Ye see not in the heigth of heaven hard by the Northren Pole Whereas the utmost circle runnes about the Axeltree In shortest circuit, gloriously enstalled for to bee In shape of starres the stinging woundes that make me yll apayde. Now is there (trow ye) any cause why folke should be afrayde To do to Juno what they list, or dread hir wrathfull mood, Which only by my working harme doe turne my foes to good? O what a mightie act is done? How passing is my powre! I have bereft hir womans shape, and at this present howre She is become a Goddesse. Loe this is the scourge so sowre Wherewith I strike mine enimies. Loe here is all the spight That I can doe: this is the ende of all my wondrous might, No force. I would he should (for me) hir native shape restore, And take away hir brutish shape, like as he hath before Done by his other Paramour, that fine and proper piece Of Argos whom he made a Cow, I meane Phononeus Niece. Why makes he not a full devorce from me, and in my stead Straight take his Sweetheart to his wife, and coll hir in my bed? He can not doe a better deede (I thinke) than for to take Lycaon to his fatherinlaw. But if that you doe make Accompt of me your foster childe, then graunt that for my sake, The Oxen and the wicked Waine of starres in number seven, For whoredome sake but late ago receyved into heaven, May never dive within your waves. Ne let that strumpet vyle By bathing of hir filthie limmes your waters pure defile. The Gods did graunt hir hir request: and straight to heaven she flue, In handsome Chariot through the Ayre, which painted peacocks drue As well beset with blasing eyes late tane from Argus hed, As thou thou prating Raven white by nature being bred, Hadst on thy fethers justly late a coly colour spred. For this same birde in auncient time had fethers faire and whight As ever was the driven snow, or silver cleare and bright. He might have well comparde himself in beautie with the Doves That have no blemish, or the Swan that running water loves: Or with the Geese that afterward should with their gagling out Preserve the Romaine Capitoll beset with foes about. His tongue was cause of all his harme, his tatling tongue did make His colour which before was white, become so foule and blake. Coronis of Larissa was the fairest maide of face, In all the land of Thessalie. Shee stoode in Phebus grace As long as that she kept hir chast, or at the least as long As that she scaped unespide in doing Phebus wrong. But at the last Apollos birde hir privie packing spide, Whome no entreatance could persuade but that he swiftly hide Him to his maister, to bewray the doings of his love. Now as he flue, the pratling Crow hir wings apace did move: And overtaking fell in talke and was inquisitive For what intent and to what place he did so swiftly drive. And when she heard the cause thereof, she said: Now trust me sure, This message on the whiche thou goste no goodnesse will procure. And therefore hearken what I say: disdaine thou not at all, To take some warning by thy friende in things that may befall. Consider what I erst have bene and what thou seest me now: And what hath bene the ground hereof. I boldly dare avow, That thou shalt finde my faithfulnesse imputed for a crime. For Pallas in a wicker chest had hid upon a time A childe calde Ericthonius, whome never woman bare, And tooke it unto Maidens three that Cecrops daughters were, Not telling them what was within, but gave them charge to keepe The Casket shut, and for no cause within the same to peepe. I standing close among the leaves upon an Elme on hie, Did marke their doings and their wordes, and there I did espie How Pandrosos and Herse kept their promise faithfully. Aglauros calles them Cowardes both, and makes no more adoe, But takes the Casket in hir hand and doth the knots undooe. And there they saw a childe whose partes beneath were like a snake. Straight to the Goddesse of this deede a just report I make. For which she gave me this reward that never might I more Accompt hir for my Lady and my Mistresse as before. And in my roume she put the fowle that flies not but by night, A warning unto other birdes my lucke should be of right To holde their tongues for being shent. But you will say perchaunce I came unsentfor of my selfe, she did me not advaunce. I dare well say though Pallas now my heavie Mistresse stand Yet if perhaps ye should demaund the question at hir hand, As sore displeased as she is, she would not this denie: But that she chose me first hir selfe to beare hir companie. For (well I know) my father was a Prince of noble fame, Of Phocis King by long discent, Coronew was his name: I was his darling and his joy, and many a welthie Piere (I would not have you thinke disdaine) did seeke me for their Fere. My forme and beautie did me hurt. For as I leysurely Went jetting up and downe the shore upon the gravell drie, As yet I customably doe, the God that rules the Seas Espying me fell straight in love. And when he saw none ease In sute, but losse of wordes and time, he offred violence, And after me he runnes apace. I skudde as fast fro thence, From sand to shore from shore to sand, still playing Foxe to hole, Untill I was so tirde that he had almost got the gole. Then cald I out on God and man. But (as it did appeare) There was no man so neare at hand that could my crying heare. A Virgin Goddesse pitied me bicause I was a mayde: And at the utter plunge and pinche did send me present ayde. I cast mine armes to heaven, mine armes waxt light with fethers black, I went about to cast in hast my garments from my back, And all was fethers. In my skinne the rooted fethers stack. I was about with violent hand to strike my naked breast, But nether had I hand nor breast that naked more did reast. I ran, but of my feete as erst remained not the print. Me thought I glided on the ground. Anon with sodaine dint, I rose and hovered in the Ayre. And from that instant time Did wait on Pallas faithfully without offence or crime. But what availes all this to me, and if that in my place The wicked wretch Nyctyminee (who late for lacke of grace Was turned to an odious birde) to honor called bee? I pray thee didst thou never heare how false Nyctyminee (A thing all over Lesbos knowne) defilde hir fathers couch? The beast is now become a birde, whose lewdnesse doth so touch And pricke hir guiltie conscience that she dares not come in sight, Nor shewe hirselfe abrode a dayes, but fleeteth in the night For shame lest folke should see hir fault: and every other birde Doth in the Ayre and Ivie toddes with wondring at hir girde. A mischiefe take thy tatling tongue, the Raven answerde tho. Thy vaine forspeaking moves me not. And so he forth did go And tels his Lorde Apollo how he saw Coronis lie Wyth Isthyis, a Gentleman that dwelt in Thessalie. When Phebus heard his lovers fault, he fiersly gan to frowne, And cast his garlond from his head, and threw his violl downe. His colour chaungde, his face lookt pale, and as the rage of yre That boyled in his belking breast had set his heart on fyre, He caught me up his wonted tooles, and bent his golden bow And by and by with deadly stripe of unavoyded blow Strake through the breast the which his owne had toucht so oft afore. She wounded gave a piteous shrike, and (drawing from the sore The deadly Dart the which the bloud pursuing after fast Upon hir white and tender limmes a scarlet colour cast) Saide: Phebus, well, thou might have wreakt this trespasse on my head And yet forborne me till the time I had bene brought abed. Now in one body by thy meanes a couple shall be dead. Thus muche she saide: and with the bloud hir life did fade away. The bodie being voyde of soule became as colde as clay. Than all too late, alas too late gan Phebus to repent That of his lover he had tane so cruell punishment. He blames himselfe for giving eare so unadvisedly. He blames himselfe in that he tooke it so outragiously. He hates and bannes his faithfull birde bicause he did enforme Him of his lovers naughtinesse that made him so to storme. He hates his bow, he hates his shaft that rashly from it went: And eke he hates his hasty hands by whom the bow was bent. He takes hir up betweene his armes endevoring all too late By plaister made of precious herbes to stay hir helplesse fate. But when he saw there was no shift: but that she needes must burne, And that the solemne sacred fire was prest to serve the turne, Then from the bottome of his heart full sorie sighes he fet, (For heavenly powres with watrie teares their cheekes may never wet) In case as when a Cow beholdes the cruell butcher stand With launching Axe embrewd with bloud and lifting up his hand Aloft to snatch hir sucking Calfe that hangeth by the heeles And of the Axe the deadly dint upon his forehead feeles. Howbeit after sweete perfumes bestowde upon hir corse And much embracing, having sore bewailde hir wrong divorse, He followed to the place assignde hir bodie for to burne. There coulde he not abide to see his seede to ashes turne. But tooke the baby from hir wombe and from the firie flame, And unto double Chyrons den conveyed straight the same. The Raven hoping for his truth to be rewarded well, He maketh blacke, forbidding him with whiter birdes to dwell. The Centaure Chyron in the while was glad of Phebus boy, And as the burthen brought some care the honor brought him joy. Upon a time with golden lockes about hir shoulders spread, A daughter of the Centaurs (whome a certaine Nymph had bred About the brooke Caycus bankes) that hight Ocyroe Came thither. This same fayre yong Nymph could not contented be To learne the craft of Surgerie as perfect as hir Sire, But that to learne the secret doomes of Fate she must aspire. And therfore when the furious rage of frenzie had hir cought, And that the spright of Prophecie enflamed had hir thought, She lookt upon the childe and saide: Sweete babe the Gods thee make A man. For all the world shall fare the better for thy sake. All sores and sicknesse shalt thou cure: thy powre shall eke be syche, To make the dead alive again. For doing of the whiche Against the pleasure of the Gods, thy Graundsire shall thee strike So with his fire, that never more thou shalt performe the like. And of a God a bludlesse corse, and of a corse (full straunge) Thou shalt become a God againe, and twice thy nature chaunge. And thou my father liefe and deare, who now by destinie, Art borne to live for evermore and never for to die, Shalt suffer such outragious paine throughout thy members all, By wounding of a venimde dart that on thy foote shall fall, That oft thou shalt desire to die, and in the latter end The fatall dames shall breake thy threede and thy desire thee send. There was yet more behinde to tell, when sodenly she fet A sore deepe sigh, and downe hir cheekes the teares did trickle wet. Mine owne misfortune (quoth she) now hath overtake me sure. I cannot utter any more, for words waxe out of ure. My cunning was not worth so much as that it should procure The wrath of God. I feele by proufe far better had it bene: If that the chaunce of things to come I never had foreseene. For now my native shape withdrawes. Me thinkes I have delight To feede on grasse and fling in fieldes: I feele my selfe so light. I am transformed to a Mare like other of my kinne. But wherfore should this brutish shape all over wholy winne? Considering that although both horse and man my father bee: Yet is his better part a man as plainly is to see. The latter ende of this complaint was fumbled in such wise, As what she meant the standers by could scarcely well devise. Anon she neyther semde to speake nor fully for to ney, But like to one that counterfeites in sport the Mare to play. Within a while she neyed plaine, and downe hir armes were pight Upon the ground all clad with haire, and bare hir bodie right. Hir fingers joyned all in one, at ende wherof did grow In stede of nayles a round tough hoofe of welked horne bylow. Hir head and necke shot forth in length, hir kirtle trayne became A faire long taile. Hir flaring haire was made a hanging Mane. And as hir native shape and voyce most monstrously did passe, So by the uncoth name of Mare she after termed was. The Centaure Chyron wept hereat: and piteously dismaide Did call on thee (although in vaine) thou Delphian God for ayde. For neyther lay it in thy hande to breake Joves mighty hest, And though it had, yet in thy state as then thou did not rest. In Elis did thou then abide and in Messene lande. It was the time when under shape of shepehierde with a wande Of Olyve and a pipe of reedes thou kept Admetus sheepe. Now in this time that (save of Love) thou tooke none other keepe, And madste thee merrie with thy pipe, the glistring Maias sonne By chaunce abrode the fields of Pyle spide certaine cattle runne Without a hierde, the which he stole and closely did them hide Among the woods. This pretie slight no earthly creature spide, Save one old churle that Battus hight. This Battus had the charge Of welthie Neleus feeding groundes, and all his pastures large, And kept a race of goodly Mares. Of him he was afraide. And lest by him his privie theft should chaunce to be bewraide, He tooke a bribe to stop his mouth, and thus unto him saide: My friend I pray thee if perchaunce that any man enquire This cattell say thou saw them not. And take thou for thy hire This faire yong Bullocke. Tother tooke the Bullocke at his hand, And shewing him a certaine stone that lay upon the lande, Sayd, go thy way: Assoone this stone thy doings shall bewray, As I shall doe. So Mercurie did seeme to go his way. Annon he commes me backe againe, and altred both in speche And outward shape, saide: Countrieman Ich heartely bezeche, And if thou zawest any kie come royling through this grounde, Or driven away, tell what he was and where they may be vownde. And I chill gethee vor thy paine an Hecfar and hir match. The Carle perceyving double gaine, and greedy for to catch, Sayde: Under yon same hill they were, and under yon same hill Cham zure they are, and with his hand he poynted thereuntill. At that Mercurius laughing saide: False knave: and doste bewray Me to my selfe? doste thou bewray me to my selfe I say? And with that word strayt to a stone he turnde his double heart, In which the slaunder yet remaines without the stones desart. The Bearer of the charmed Rod, the suttle Mercurie, This done, arose with waving wings and from that place did flie. And as he hovered in the Ayre he viewde the fieldes bylow Of Atticke and the towne it selfe with all the trees that grow In Lycey where the learned Clarkes did wholsome preceptes show. By chaunce the verie selfesame day the virgins of the towne Of olde and auncient custome bare in baskets on their crowne Beset with garlands fresh and gay and strowde with flowres sweete To Pallas towre such sacrifice as was of custome meete. The winged God beholding them returning in a troupe Continued not directly forth, but gan me downe to stoupe, And fetch a wyndlasse round about. And as the hungry kite Beholding unto sacrifice a Bullocke redie dight, Doth sore about his wished pray desirous for to snatche But that he dareth not for such as stand about and watch: So Mercurie with nimble wings doth keepe a lower gate About Minervas loftie towres in round and wheeling rate. As far as doth the Morning starre in cleare and streaming light Excell all other starres in heaven: as far also as bright Dame Phebe dimmes the Morning starre, so far did Herses face Staine all the Ladies of hir troupe: she was the verie grace And beautie of that solemne pompe, and all that traine so fayre. Joves sonne was ravisht with the sight, and hanging in the ayre Began to swelt within himselfe, in case as when the poulder Hath driven the Pellet from the Gunne, the Pellet ginnes to smoulder: And in his flying waxe more hote. In smoking brest he shrowdes His flames not brought from heaven above but caught beneath the clouds. He leaves his jorney toward heaven and takes another race Not minding any lenger time to hide his present case. So great a trust and confidence his beautie to him gave Which though it seemed of it selfe sufficient force to have, Yet was he curious for to make himselfe more fine and brave. He kembd his head and strokt his beard, and pried on every side To see that in his furniture no wrinkle might be spide. And forbicause his Cloke was fringde and garded brode with golde, He cast it on his shoulder up most seemely to beholde. He takes in hand his charmed rod that bringeth things asleepe And wakes them when he list againe. And lastly taketh keepe That on his faire welformed feete his golden shooes sit cleene, And that all other things therto well correspondent beene. In Cecrops Court were Chambers three set far from all resort With yvorie beddes all furnished in far most royall sort. Of which Aglauros had the left and Pandrose had the right, And Herse had the middlemost. She that Aglauros hight First markt the comming of the God, and asking him his name Demaunded him for what entent and cause he thither came. Pleiones Nephew, Maias sonne, did make hir aunswere thus: I am my fathers messenger, his pleasure to discusse To mortall folke and hellish fiendes as list him to commaund. My father is the mightie Jove. To that thou doste demaund I will not feyne a false excuse. I aske no more but graunt To keepe thy sisters counsell close, and for to be the Aunt Of such the issue as on hir my chaunce shalbe to get. Thy sister Herse is the cause that hath me hither fet. I pray thee beare thou with my love that is so firmely set. Aglauros cast on Mercurie hir scornfull eyes aside, With which against Minervas will hir secretes late she spide, Demaunding him in recompence a mighty masse of Golde: And would not let him enter in until the same were tolde. The warlike Goddesse cast on hir a sterne and cruell looke, And fetched such a cutting sigh that forcibly it shooke Both brest and brestplate, wherewithall it came unto hir thought How that Aglauros late ago against hir will had wrought In looking on the Lemman childe contrarie to hir othe, The whiche she tooke hir in the chest, for which she waxed wrothe. Againe she saw hir cancred heart maliciously repine Against hir sister and the God. And furthermore in fine How that the golde which Mercurie had given hir for hir meede, Would make hir both in welth and pride all others to exceede. She goes me straight to Envies house, a foule and irksome cave, Replete with blacke and lothly filth and stinking like a grave. It standeth in a hollow dale where neyther light of Sunne Nor blast of any winde or Ayre may for the deepenesse come. A dreyrie sad and dolefull den ay full of slouthfull colde As which ay dimd with smoldring smoke doth never fire beholde, When Pallas, that same manly Maide, approched nere this plot, She staide without, for to the house in enter might she not, And with hir Javelin point did give a push against the doore. The doore flue open by and by and fell me in the floore. There saw she Envie sit within fast gnawing on the flesh Of Snakes and Todes, the filthie foode that keepes hir vices fresh. It lothde hir to beholde the sight. Anon the Elfe arose And left the gnawed Adders flesh, and slouthfully she goes With lumpish laysure like a Snayle, and when she saw the face Of Pallas and hir faire attire adournde with heavenly grace, She gave a sigh, a sorie sigh, from bottome of hir heart. Hir lippes were pale, hir cheekes were wan, and all hir face was swart: Hir bodie leane as any Rake. She looked eke askew. Hir teeth were furde with filth and drosse, hir gums were waryish blew. The working of hir festered gall had made hir stomacke greene. And all bevenimde was hir tongue. No sleepe hir eyes had seene. Continuall Carke and cankred care did keepe hir waking still: Of laughter (save at others harmes) the Helhound can no skill. It is against hir will that men have any good successe, And if they have, she frettes and fumes within hir minde no lesse Than if hir selfe had taken harme. In seeking to annoy And worke distresse to other folke, hir selfe she doth destroy. Thus is she torment to hir selfe. Though Pallas did hir hate, Yet spake she briefly these few wordes to hir without hir gate: Infect thou with thy venim one of Cecrops daughters three, It is Aglauros whome I meane, for so it needes must bee. This said, she pight hir speare in ground, and tooke hir rise thereon. And winding from that wicked wight did take hir flight anon. The Caitife cast hir eye aside, and seeing Pallas gon, Began to mumble with hir selfe the Divels Paternoster, And fretting at hir good successe, began to blow and bluster. She takes a crooked staffe in hand bewreathde with knubbed prickes, And covered with a coly cloude, where ever that she stickes Hir filthie feete, she tramples downe and seares both grasse and corne: That all the fresh and fragrant fieldes seeme utterly forlorne. And with hir staffe she tippeth off the highest poppie heades. Such poyson also every where ungraciously she sheades, That every Cottage where she comes and every Towne and Citie Doe take infection at hir breath. At length (the more is pitie) She found the faire Athenian towne that flowed freshly then In feastfull peace and joyfull welth and learned witts of men. And forbicause she nothing saw that might provoke to weepe, It was a corsie to hir heart hir hatefull teares to keepe. Now when she came within the Court, she went without delay Directly to the lodgings where King Cecrops daughters lay, There did she as Minerva bad. She laide hir scurvie fist Besmerde with venim and with filth upon Aglauros brist, The whiche she filde with hooked thornes: and breathing on hir face Did shead the poyson in hir bones: which spred it selfe apace, As blacke as ever virgin pitch through Lungs and Lights and all. And to th'intent that cause of griefe abundantly should fall, She placed ay before hir eyes hir sisters happie chaunce In being wedded to the God, and made the God to glaunce Continually in heavenly shape before hir wounded thought. And all these things she painted out, which in conclusion wrought Such corsies in Aglauros brest that sighing day and night She gnawde and fretted in hir selfe for very cancred spight. And like a wretche she wastes hir selfe with restlesse care and pine Like as the yse whereon the Sunne with glimering light doth shine. Hir sister Herses good successe doth make hir heart to yerne, In case as when that fire is put to greenefeld wood or fearne Whych giveth neyther light nor heate, but smulders quite away: Sometime she minded to hir Sire hir sister to bewray, Who (well she knew) would yll abide so lewde a part to play. And oft she thought with wilfull hande to brust hir fatall threede, Bicause she woulde not see the thing that made hir heart to bleede. At last she sate hir in the doore and leaned to a post To let the God from entring in. To whome now having lost Much talke and gentle wordes in vayne, she said: Sir, leave I pray For hence I will not (be you sure) onlesse you go away. I take thee at thy word (quoth he) and therewithall he pusht His rod against the barred doore, and wide it open rusht. She making proffer for to rise, did feele so great a waight Through all hir limmes, that for hir life she could not stretch hir straight. She strove to set hirself upright: but striving booted not. Hir hamstrings and hir knees were stiffe, a chilling colde had got In at hir nayles, through all hir limmes. And eke hir veynes began For want of bloud and lively heate, to waxe both pale and wan. And as the freting Fistula forgrowne and past all cure Runnes in the flesh from place to place, and makes the sound and pure As bad or worser than the rest, even so the cold of death Strake to hir heart, and closde hir veines, and lastly stopt hir breath: She made no profer for to speake, and though she had done so It had bene vaine. For way was none for language forth to go. Hir throte congealed into stone: hir mouth became hard stone, And like an image sate she still, hir bloud was clearely gone, The which the venim of hir heart so fowly did infect, That ever after all the stone with freckled spots was spect. When Mercurie had punisht thus Aglauros spightfull tung And cancred heart, immediatly from Pallas towne he flung. And flying up with flittering wings did pierce to heaven above. His father calde him straight aside (but shewing not his love) Said: Sonne, my trustie messenger and worker of my will, Make no delay but out of hand flie downe in hast untill The land that on the left side lookes upon thy mothers light, Yon same where standeth on the coast the towne that Sidon hight. The King hath there a heirde of Neate that on the Mountaines feede, Go take and drive them to the sea with all convenient speede. He had no sooner said the word but that the heirde begun Driven from the mountaine to the shore appointed for to run, Whereas the daughter of the King was wonted to resort With other Ladies of the Court there for to play and sport. Betweene the state of Majestie and love is set such oddes, As that they can not dwell in one. The Sire and King of Goddes Whose hand is armd with triplefire, who only with his frowne Makes Sea and Land and Heaven to quake, doth lay his scepter downe With all the grave and stately port belonging thereunto: And putting on the shape of Bull (as other cattell doe) Goes lowing gently up and downe among them in the field The fairest beast to looke upon that ever man beheld. For why? his colour was as white as any winters snow Before that eyther trampling feete or Southerne winde it thow. His necke was brawnd with rolles of flesh, and from his chest before A dangling dewlap hung me downe good halfe a foote and more. His hornes were small, but yet so fine as that ye would have thought They had bene made by cunning hand or out of waxe bene wrought. More cleare they were a hundreth fold than is the Christall stone, In all his forehead fearfull frowne or wrinkle there was none. No fierce, no grim, nor griesly looke as other cattle have, But altogether so demure as friendship seemde to crave. Agenors daughter marveld much so tame a beast to see, But yet to touche him at the first too bolde she durst not bee. Annon she reaches to his mouth hir hand with herbes and flowres. The loving beast was glad thereof and neither frownes nor lowres. But till the hoped joy might come with glad and fauning cheare He lickes hir hands and scarce ah scarce the resdue he forbeare. Sometime he friskes and skippes about and showes hir sport at hand Annon he layes his snowie side against the golden sand. So feare by little driven away, he offred eft his brest To stroke and coy, and eft his hornes with flowers to be drest. At last Europa knowing not (for so the Maide was calde) On whome she venturde for to ride, was nerawhit appalde To set hir selfe upon his backe. Then by and by the God From maine drie land to maine moyst Sea gan leysurly to plod. At first he did but dip his feete within the outmost wave, And backe againe, then further in another plunge he gave. And so still further till at the last he had his wished pray Amid the deepe where was no meanes to scape with life away. The Ladie quaking all for feare with rufull countnance cast Ay toward shore from whence she came, held with hir righthand fast One of his hornes: and with the left did stay upon his backe. The weather flaskt and whisked up hir garments being slacke. The God now having laide aside his borrowed shape of Bull Had in his likenesse shewde himself: and with his pretie trull Tane landing in the Ile of Crete. When in that while hir Sire Not knowing where she was become, sent after to enquire Hir brother Cadmus, charging him his sister home to bring, Or never for to come againe: wherein he did a thing, For which he might both justly kinde and cruell called bee. When Cadmus over all the world had sought, (for who is hee That can detect the thefts of Jove?) and no where could hir see, Then as an outlaw (to avoyde his fathers wrongfull yre) He went to Phebus Oracle most humbly to desire His heavenly counsell, where he would assigne him place to dwell. An Heifer all alone in field (quoth Phebus) marke hir well, Which never bare the pinching yoke, nor drew the plough as yit, Shall meete thee. Follow after hir, and where thou seest hir sit, There builde a towne, and let thereof Beotia be the name. Downe from Parnasus stately top scarce fully Cadmus came, When royling softly in the vale before the herde alone He saw an Heifer on whose necke of servage print was none. He followde after leysurly as hir that was his guide, And thanked Phebus in his heart that did so well provide. Now had he past Cephisus forde, and eke the pleasant groundes About the Citie Panope conteinde within those boundes. The Heifer staide, and lifting up hir forehead to the skie Full seemely for to looke upon with homes like braunches hie Did with hir lowing fill the Ayre: and casting backe hir eie Upon the rest that came aloofe, as softly as she could Kneelde downe and laide hir hairie side against the grassie mould. Then Cadmus gave Apollo thankes, and falling flat bylow Did kisse the ground and haile the fields which yet he did not know. He was about to sacrifice to Jove the Heavenly King, And bad his servants goe and fetch him water of the spring. An olde forgrowne unfelled wood stoode neare at hand thereby, And in the middes a queachie plot with Sedge and Osiers hie, Where courbde about with peble stone in likenesse of a bow There was a spring with silver streames that forth thereof did flow. Here lurked in his lowring den God Mars his griesly Snake With golden scales and firie eyes beswolne with poyson blake. Three spirting tongues, three rowes of teeth within his head did sticke. No sooner had the Tirian folke set foote within this thicke And queachie plot, and deped downe their bucket in the well, But that to buscle in his den began this Serpent fell, And peering with a marble head right horribly to hisse. The Tirians let their pitchers slip for sodaine feare of this, And waxing pale as any clay, like folke amazde and flaight, Stoode trembling like an Aspen leafe. The specled serpent straight Commes trailing out in waving linkes, and knottie rolles of scales, And bending into bunchie boughts his bodie forth he hales. And lifting up above the wast himselfe unto the Skie, He overlooketh all the wood, as huge and big welnie As is the Snake that in the Heaven about the Nordren Pole Devides the Beares. He makes no stay but deales his dreadfull dole Among the Tirians. Whether they did take them to their tooles, Or to their heeles, or that their feare did make them stand like fooles, And helpe themselves by none of both, he snapt up some alive, And swept in others with his taile, and some he did deprive Of life with rankenesse of his breath, and other some againe He stings and poysons unto death till all at last were slaine. Now when the Sunne was at his heigth and shadowes waxed short, And Cadmus saw his companie make tarience in that sort, He marveld what should be their let, and went to seeke them out. His harnesse was a Lions skin that wrapped him about. His weapons were a long strong speare with head of yron tride, And eke a light and piercing Dart. And thereunto beside Worth all the weapons in the world a stout and valiant hart. When Cadmus came within the wood and saw about that part His men lie slaine upon the ground, and eke their cruell fo Of bodie huge stand over them, and licking with his blo And blasting tongue their sorie woundes: Well trustie friendes (quoth he) I eyther of your piteous deathes will streight revenger be, Or else will die my selfe therefore. With that he raughting fast A mightie Milstone, at the Snake with all his might it cast. The stone with such exceding force and violence forth was driven, As of a fort the bulwarkes strong and walles it would have riven. And yet it did the Snake no harme: his scales as hard and tough As if they had bene plates of mayle did fence him well inough, So that the stone rebounded backe against his freckled slough. But yet his hardnesse savde him not against the piercing dart. For hitting right betweene the scales that yeelded in that part Whereas the joynts doe knit the backe, it thirled through the skin, And pierced to his filthy mawe and greedy guts within. He fierce with wrath wrings backe his head, and looking on the stripe, The Javeling steale that sticked out, betwene his teeth doth gripe. The which with wresting to and fro at length he forth did winde, Save that he left the head therof among his bones behinde. When of his courage through the wound more kindled was the ire, His throteboll swelde with puffed veines, his eyes gan sparkle fire. There stoode about his smeared chaps a lothly foming froth. His skaled brest ploughes up the ground, the stinking breath that goth Out from his blacke and hellish mouth infectes the herbes full fowle. Sometime he windes himselfe in knots as round as any Bowle. Sometime he stretcheth out in length as straight as any beame. Anon againe with violent brunt he rusheth like a streame Encreast by rage of latefalne raine, and with his mightie sway Beares downe the wood before his breast that standeth in his way. Agenors sonne retiring backe doth with his Lions spoyle Defend him from his fierce assaults, and makes him to recoyle Aye holding at the weapons point. The Serpent waxing wood Doth crashe the steele betwene his teeth, and bites it till the blood, Dropt mixt with poyson from his mouth, did die the greene grasse blacke, But yet the wound was verie light bicause he writhed backe And puld his head still from the stroke: and made the stripe to die By giving way, untill that Cadmus following irefully The stroke, with all his powre and might did through the throte him rive, And naylde him to an Oke behind the which he eke did clive. The Serpents waight did make the tree to bend. It grievde the tree His bodie of the Serpents taile thus scourged for to bee. While Cadmus wondred at the hugenesse of the vanquisht foe Upon the sodaine came a voyce: from whence he could not know, But sure he was he heard the voyce. Which said: Agenors sonne, What gazest thus upon this Snake? the time will one day come That thou thy selfe shalt be a Snake. He pale and wan for feare, Had lost his speach: and ruffled up stiffe staring stood his heare. Behold (mans helper at his neede) Dame Pallas gliding through The vacant Ayre was straight at hand, and bade him take a plough And cast the Serpents teeth in ground, as of the which should spring Another people out of hand. He did in every thing As Pallas bade, he tooke a plough, and earde a furrow low And sowde the Serpents teeth whereof the foresaid folke should grow. Anon (a wondrous thing to tell) the clods began to move, And from the furrow first of all the pikes appearde above, Next rose up helmes with fethered crests, and then the Poldrens bright, Successively the Curets whole, and all the armor right. Thus grew up men like corne in field in rankes of battle ray With shields and weapons in their hands to feight the field that day. Even so when stages are attirde against some solemne game, With clothes of Arras gorgeously, in drawing up the same The faces of the ymages doe first of all them showe, And then by peecemeale all the rest in order seemes to grow, Untill at last they stand out full upon their feete bylow. Afrighted at this new found foes gan Cadmus for to take Him to his weapons by and by resistance for to make. Stay, stay thy selfe (cride one of them that late before were bred Out of the ground) and meddle not with civill warres. This sed, One of the brothers of that brood with launcing sworde he slue. Another sent a dart at him, the which him overthrue. The third did straight as much for him and made him yeelde the breath, (The which he had receyvde but now) by stroke of forced death. Likewise outraged all the rest untill that one by one By mutuall stroke of civill warre dispatched everychone, This broode of brothers all behewen and weltred in their blood, Lay sprawling on their mothers womb, the ground where erst they stood, Save only five that did remaine. Of whom Echion led By Pallas counsell, threw away the helmet from his head, And with his brothers gan to treat attonement for to make. The which at length (by Pallas helpe) so good successe did take, That faithfull friendship was confirmd and hand in hand was plight. These afterward did well assist the noble Tyrian knight, In building of the famous towne that Phebus had behight. Now Thebes stoode in good estate, now Cadmus might thou say That when thy father banisht thee it was a luckie day. To joyne aliance both with Mars and Venus was thy chaunce, Whose daughter thou hadst tane to wife, who did thee much advaunce, Not only through hir high renowne, but through a noble race Of sonnes and daughters that she bare: whose children in like case It was thy fortune for to see all men and women growne. But ay the ende of every thing must marked be and knowne. For none the name of blessednesse deserveth for to have Onlesse the tenor of his life last blessed to his grave. Among so many prosprous happes that flowde with good successe, Thine eldest Nephew was a cause of care and sore distresse. Whose head was armde with palmed homes, whose own hounds in the wood Did pull their master to the ground and fill them with his bloud. But if you sift the matter well, ye shall not finde desart But cruell fortune to have bene the cause of this his smart. For who could doe with oversight? Great slaughter had bene made Of sundrie sortes of savage beastes one morning: and the shade Of things was waxed verie short. It was the time of day That mid betweene the East and West the Sunne doth seeme to stay. When as the Thebane stripling thus bespake his companie, Still raunging in the waylesse woods some further game to spie: Our weapons and our toyles are moist and staind with bloud of Deere: This day hath done inough as by our quarrie may appeare. As soone as with hir scarlet wheeles next morning bringeth light, We will about our worke againe. But now Hiperion bright Is in the middes of Heaven, and seares the fieldes with firie rayes. Take up your toyles, and cease your worke, and let us go our wayes. They did even so, and ceast their worke. There was a valley thicke With Pinaple and Cipresse trees that armed be with pricke. Gargaphie hight this shadie plot, it was a sacred place Tochast Diana and the Nymphes that wayted on hir grace. Within the furthest en ereof there was a pleasant Bowre So vaulted with the leavie trees the Sunne had there no powre: Not made by hand nor mans devise: and yet no man alive, A trimmer piece of worke than that could for his life contrive. With flint and Pommy was it wallde by nature halfe about, And on the right side of the same full freshly flowed out A lively spring with Christall streame: whereof the upper brim Was greneawith grasse and matted herbes that smelled verie trim. Whe hebe )elt hir selfe waxe faint, of following of hir game, It was oi-etrsfome for to come and bath hir in the same. That day she, having timely left hir hunting in the chace, Was entred with hir troupe of Nymphes within this pleasant place. She tooke hirrquiveLad hir bow the which she had unbent, And eke hir Javelin to a Nymph that served that intent. Another Nymph t ttaie hir clothes among hir traine she chose, Two losde hir buskins from hir legges and pulled off hir hose. The Thebane Ladie Crocale more cunnig than the rest Did trusse hir tresses handsomly which hung behind undrest. And yet hir owne hung waving still. Then Niphe nete and cleene With Hiale glistring like the grass in beautie fresh and sheene, And Rhanis clearer of hir skin than are the rainie drops, And little bibling Phyale, and Pseke that pretie Mops Powrde water into vessels large to washe their Ladie with. Now while she keepes this wont, behold, by wandring in the frith He wist not whither (having staid his pastime till the morrow) Comes Cadmus Nephew to this thicke: and entring in with sorrow (Such was his cursed cruell fate) saw Phebe where she washt. The Damsels at the sight of man quite out of countnance dasht, (Bicause they everichone were bare and naked to the quicke) Did beate their handes against their breasts, and cast out such a shricke, That all the wood did ring thereof: and clinging to their dame Did all they could to hide both hir and eke themselves fro shame. But Phebe was of personage so comly and so tall, That by the middle of hir necke she overpeerd them all. Such colour as appeares in Heaven by Phebus broken rayes Directly shining on the Cloudes, or such as is alwayes The colour of the Morning Cloudes before the Sunne doth show, Such sanguine colour in the face of Phoebe gan to glowe There standing naked in his sight. Who though she had hir gard Of Nymphes about hir: yet she turnde hir bodie from him ward. And casting back an angrie looke, like as she would have sent An arrow at him had she had hir bow there readie bent, So raught she water in hir hande and for to wreake the spight Besprinckled all the heade and face of this unluckie knight, r And thus forespake the heavie lot that should upon him light: Now make thy vaunt among thy Mates, thou sawste Diana bare. Tell if thou can: I give thee leave: tell hardily: doe not spare. This done she makes no further threates, but by and by doth spread A payre of lively olde Harts homes upon his sprinckled head. She sharpes his eares, she makes his necke both slender, long and lanke. She turnes his fingers into feete, his armes to spindle shanke. She wrappes him in a hairie hyde beset with speckled spottes, And planteth in him fearefulnesse. And so away he trottes, Full greatly wondring to him selfe what made him in that cace To be so wight and swift of foote. But when he saw his face And horned temples in the brooke, he would have cryde Alas, But as for then no kinde of speach out of his lippes could passe. He sighde and brayde: for that was then the speach that did remaine, And downe the eyes that were not his, his bitter teares did raine. No part remayned (save his minde) of that he earst had beene. What should he doe? turne home againe to Cadmus and the Queene? Or hyde himselfe among the Woods? Of this he was afrayd, And of the tother ill ashamde. While doubting thus he stayd. His houndes espyde him where he was, and Blackfoote first of all And Stalker speciall good of scent began aloud to call. This latter was a hounde of Crete, the other was of Spart. Then all the kenell fell in round, and everie for his part, Dyd follow freshly in the chase more swifter than the winde, Spy, Eateal, Scalecliffe, three good houndes comne all of Arcas kinde, Strong Bilbucke, currish Savage, Spring, and Hunter fresh of smell, And Lightfoote who to lead a chase did beare away the bell, Fierce Woodman hurte not long ago in hunting of a Bore, And Shepeheird woont to follow sheepe and neate to fielde afore. And Laund, a fell and eger bitch that had a Wolfe to Syre: Another brach callde Greedigut with two hir Puppies by her. And Ladon gant as any Greewnd, a hownd in Sycion bred, Blab, Fleetewood, Patch whose flecked skin with sundrie spots was spred: Wight, Bowman, Royster, Beautie faire and white as winters snow, And Tawnie full of duskie haires that over all did grow, With lustie Ruffler passing all the resdue there in strength, And Tempest best of footemanshipe in holding out at length. And Cole and Swift, and little Woolfe, as wight as any other, Accompanide with a Ciprian hound that was his native brother, And Snatch amid whose forehead stoode a starre as white as snowe, The resdue being all as blacke and slicke as any Crowe. And shaggie Rugge with other twaine that had a Syre of Crete, And Dam of Sparta: T'one of them callde Jollyboy, a great And large flewd hound: the tother Chorle who ever gnoorring went, And Kingwood with a shyrle loude mouth the which he freely spent, With divers mo whose names to tell it were but losse of tyme. This fellowes over hill and dale in hope of pray doe clyme. Through thicke and thin and craggie cliffes where was no way to go, He flyes through groundes where oftentymes he chased had ere tho. Even from his owne folke is he faine (alas) to flee away. He strayned oftentymes to speake, and was about to say: I am Acteon: know your Lorde and Mayster, sirs, I pray. But use of wordes and speach did want to utter forth his minde. Their crie did ring through all the Wood redoubled with the winde, First Slo did pinch him by the haunch, and next came Kildeere in, And Hylbred fastned on his shoulder, bote him through the skinne. These cam forth later than the rest, but coasting thwart a hill, They did gainecope him as he came, and helde their Master still Untill that all the rest came in, and fastned on him too. No part of him was free from wound. He could none other do But sigh, and in the shape of Hart with voyce as Hartes are woont, (For voyce of man was none now left to helpe him at the brunt) By braying shew his secret grief among the Mountaynes hie, And kneeling sadly on his knees with dreerie teares in eye, As one by humbling of himselfe that mercy seemde to crave, With piteous looke in stead of handes his head about to wave. Not knowing that it was their Lord, the huntsmen cheere their houndsi With wonted noyse and for Acteon looke about the grounds. They hallow who could lowdest crie still calling him by name, As though he were not there, and much his absence they do blame In that he came not to the fall, but slackt to see the game. As often as they named him he sadly shooke his head, And faine he would have beene away thence in some other stead. But there he was. And well he could have found in heart to see His dogges fell deedes, so that to feele in place he had not bee. They hem him in on everie side, and in the shape of Stagge, With greedie teeth and griping pawes their Lord in peeces dragge. So fierce was cruell Phoebes wrath, it could not be alayde, Till of his fault by bitter death the raunsome he had payde. Much muttring was upon this fact. Some thought there was extended A great deale more extremitie than neded. Some commended Dianas doing: saying that it was but worthely For safegarde of hir womanhod. Eche partie did applie Good reasons to defende their case. Alone the wife ofJe, Of lyking or misliking it not all so greatly strove, As secretly rejoyst in heart that such a plague was light On Cadmus linage: turning all the malice and the spight Conceyved earst against the wench that Jove had fet fro Tyre, Upon the kinred of the wench, and for to fierce hir ire, Another thing cleane overthwart there commeth in the nicke: The Ladie Semell great with childe by Jove as then was quicke. Hereat she gan to fret and fume, and for to ease hir heart, Which else would burst, she fell in hande with scolding out hir part: And what a goodyeare have I woon by scolding erst? (she sed) It is that arrant queane hir selfe, against whose wicked hed I must assay to give assault: and if (as men me call) I be that Juno who in heaven beare greatest swing of all, If in my hande I worthie bee to holde the royall Mace, And if I be the Queene of heaven and soveraigne of this place, Or wife and sister unto Jove, (his sister well I know: But as for wife that name is vayne, I serve but for a show, To cover other privie skapes) I will confound that Whore. Now (with a mischiefe) is she bagd and beareth out before Hir open shame to all the world, and shortly hopes to bee The mother of a sonne by Jove, the which hath hapt to mee Not passing once in all my time, so sore she doth presume Upon hir beautie. But I trowe hir hope shall soone consume. For never let me counted be for Saturns daughter more, If by hir owne deare darling Jove on whome she trustes so sore, I sende hir not to Styxes streame. This ended up she rose And covered in golden cloud to Semelles house she goes. And ere she sent away the cloud, she takes an olde wyves shape With hoarie haire and riveled skinne, with slow and crooked gate. As though she had the Palsey had, hir feeble limmes did shake, And eke she foltred in the mouth as often as she spake. She seemde olde Beldame Beroe of Epidaure to bee, This Ladie Semelles Nourse as right as though it had beene shee. So when that after mickle talke of purpose ministred Joves name was upned: by and by she gave a sigh and sed: I wish with all my heart that Jove bee cause to thee of this. But daughter deare I dreade the worst, I feare it be amisse. For manie Varlets under name of Gods to serve their lust, Have into undefiled beddes themselves full often thrust; And though it bene the mightie Jove yet doth not that suffise, Onlesse he also make the same apparant to our eyes. And if it be even verie hee, I say it doth behove, He prove it by some open signe and token of his love. And therefore pray him for to graunt that, looke, in what degree, What order, fashion, sort and state he use to companie With mightie Juno, in the same in everie poynt and cace, To all intents and purposes he thee likewise embrace, And that he also bring with him his bright threeforked Mace. With such instructions Juno had enformed Cadmus Neece: And she poore sielie simple soule immediately on this Requested Jove to graunt a boone the which she did not name. Aske what thou wilt sweete heart (quoth he) thou shalt not misse the same, And for to make thee sure hereof, the grisely Stygian Lake, Which is the feare and God of Gods beare witnesse for thy sake. She joying in hir owne mischaunce, not having any powre To rule hir selfe, but making speede to hast hir fatall howre, In which she through hir Lovers helpe should worke hir owne decay, Sayd: Such as Juno findeth you when you and she doe play The games of Venus, such I pray thee shew thy selfe to mee In everie case. The God would faine have stopt hir mouth. But shee Had made such hast that out it was. Which made him sigh full sore, For neyther she could then unwish the thing she wisht before, Nor he revoke his solemne oth. Wherefore with sorie heart And heavie countnance by and by to Heaven he doth depart, And makes to follow after him with looke full grim and stoure The flakie clouds all grisly blacke, as when they threat a shoure. To which he added mixt with winde a fierce and flashing flame, With drie and dreadfull thunderclaps and lightning to the same Of deadly unavoyded dynt. And yet as much as may He goes about his vehement force and fiercenesse to allay. He doth not arme him with the fire with which he did remove The Giant with the hundreth handes, Typhoeus, from above: It was too cruell and too sore to use against his Love. The Cyclops made an other kinde of lightning farre more light, Wherein they put much lesse of fire, lesse fierceness, lesser might. It hight in Heaven the seconde Mace. Jove armes himselfe with this And enters into Cadmus house where Semelles chamber is. She being mortall was too weake and feeble to withstande Such troublous tumultes of the Heavens: and therefore out of hande Was burned in hir Lovers armes. But yet he tooke away His infant from the mothers wombe unperfect as it lay, And (if a man may credit it) did in his thigh it sowe, Where byding out the mothers tyme it did to ripenesse growe. And when the time of birth was come his Aunt the Ladie Ine Did nourse him for a while by stealth and kept him trym and fine. The Nymphes of Nysa afterwarde did in their bowres him hide, And brought him up with Milke till tyme he might abrode be spyde. Now while these things were done on earth, and that by fatal doome The twice borne Bacchus had a tyme to mannes estate to come, They say that Jove disposde to myrth as he and Juno sate A drinking Nectar after meate in sport and pleasant rate, Did fall a jeasting with his wife, and saide: A greater pleasure In Venus games ye women have than men beyonde all measure. She answerde no. To trie the truth, they both of them agree The wise Tyresias in this case indifferent Judge to bee, Who both the man and womans joyes by tryall understood. For finding once two mightie Snakes engendring in a Wood, He strake them overthwart the backs, by meanes whereof beholde (As straunge a thing to be of truth as ever yet was tolde) He being made a woman straight, seven winter lived so. The eight he finding them againe did say unto them tho: And if to strike ye have such powre as for to turne their shape That are the givers of the stripe, before you hence escape, One stripe now will I lende you more. He strake them as beforne And straight returnd his former shape in which he first was borne. Tyresias therefore being tane to judge this jesting strife, Gave sentence on the side of Jove. The which the Queene his wife Did take a great deale more to heart than needed, and in spight To wreake hir teene upon hir Judge, bereft him of his sight. But Jove (for to the Gods it is unleefull to undoe The things which other of the Gods by any meanes have doe) Did give him sight in things to come for losse of sight of eye, And so his grievous punishment with honour did supplie. By meanes whereof within a while in Citie, fielde, and towne Through all the coast of Aony was bruited his renowne. And folke to have their fortunes read that dayly did resorte Were aunswerde so as none of them could give him misreporte. The first that of his soothfast wordes had proufe in all the Realme Was freckled Lyriop, whom sometime surprised in his streame The floud Cephisus did enforce. This Lady bare a sonne Whose beautie at his verie birth might justly love have wonne. -Narcissus did she call his name. Of whome the Prophet sage, -Demaunded if the childe should live to many yeares of age, Made aunswere: Yea full long, so that him selfe he doe not know. The Soothsayers wordes seemde long but vaine, untill the end did show His saying to be true in deede by straungenesse of the rage, And straungenesse of the kinde of death that did abridge his age. For when yeares three times five and one he fully lyved had, So that he seemde to stande beetwene the state of man and Lad, The hearts of dyvers trim yong men his beautie gan to move And many a Ladie fresh and faire was taken in his love. But in that grace of Natures gift such passing pride did raigne, That to be toucht of man or Mayde he wholy did disdaine. A babling Nymph that Echo hight, who hearing others talke, By no meanes can restraine hir tongue but that it needes must walke, Nor of hir selfe hath powre to ginne to speake to any wight, Espyde him dryving into toyles the fearefull stagges of flight. This Echo was a body then and not an onely voyce. Yet of hir speach she had that time no more than now the choyce, That is to say, of many wordes the latter to repeate. The cause thereof was Junos wrath. For when that with the feate She might have often taken Jove in daliance with his Dames, And that by stealth and unbewares in middes of all his games, This elfe would with hir tatling talke deteine hir by the way, Untill that Jove had wrought his will and they were fled away. The which when Juno did perceyve, she said with wrathfull mood: This tongue that hath deluded me shall doe thee little good, For of thy speach but simple use hereafter shalt thou have. The deede it selfe did straight confirme the threatnings that she gave. Yet Echo of the former talke doth double oft the ende And backe againe with just report the wordes earst spoken sende. Now when she sawe Narcissus stray about the Forrest wyde, She waxed warme and step for step fast after him she hyde. The more she followed after him and neerer that she came, The hoter ever did she waxe as neerer to hir flame. Lyke as the lively Brimstone doth which dipt about a match, And put but softly to the fire, the flame doth lightly catch. O Lord how often woulde she faine (if nature would have let) Entreated him with gentle wordes some favour for to get? But nature would not suffer hir nor give hir leave to ginne. Yet (so farre forth as she by graunt at natures hande could winne) As readie with attentive eare she harkens for some sounde, Whereto she might replie hir wordes, from which she is not bounde. By chaunce the stripling being strayde from all his companie, Sayde: Is there any body nie? Straight Echo answerde: I. Amazde he castes his eye aside, and looketh round about, And Come (that all the Forrest roong) aloud he calleth out. And Come (sayth she:) he looketh backe, and seeing no man followe, Why fliste, he cryeth once againe: and she the same doth hallowe. He still persistes and wondring much what kinde of thing it was From which that answering voyce by turne so duely seemde to passe, Said: Let us joyne. She (by hir will desirous to have said In fayth with none more willingly at any time or stead) Said: Let us joyne. And standing somewhat in hir owne conceit, Upon these wordes she left the Wood, and forth she yeedeth streit, To coll the lovely necke for which she longed had so much, He runnes his way and will not be imbraced of no such, And sayth: I first will die ere thou shalt take of me thy pleasure. She aunswerde nothing else thereto, but Take of me thy pleasure. Now when she saw hir selfe thus mockt, she gate hir to the Woods, And hid hir head for verie shame among the leaves and buddes. And ever sence she lyves alone in dennes and hollow Caves, Yet stacke hir love still to hir heart, through which she dayly raves The more for sorrowe of repulse. Through restlesse carke and care Hir bodie pynes to skinne and bone, and waxeth wonderous bare. The bloud doth vanish into ayre from out of all hir veynes, And nought is left but voyce and bones: the voyce yet still remaynes: Hir bones they say were turnde to stones. From thence she lurking still In Woods, will never shewe hir head in field nor yet on hill. Yet is she heard of every man: it is hir onely sound, And nothing else that doth remayne alive above the ground. Thus had he mockt this wretched Nymph and many mo beside, That in the waters, Woods and groves, or Mountaynes did abyde. Thus had he mocked many men. Of which one miscontent To see himselfe deluded so, his handes to Heaven up bent, And sayd: I pray to God he may once feele fierce Cupids fire As I doe now, and yet not joy the things he doth desire. The Goddesse Ramnuse (who doth wreake on wicked people take) Assented to his just request for ruth and pities sake. There was a spring withouten mudde as silver cleare and still, Which neyther sheepeheirds, nor the Goates that fed upon the hill, Nor other cattell troubled had, nor savage beast had styrd, Nor braunch nor sticke, nor leafe of tree, nor any soule nor byrd. The moysture fed and kept aye fresh the grasse that grew about, And with their leaves the trees did keepe the heate of Phoebus out. The stripling wearie with the heate and hunting in the chace, And much delighted with the spring and coolenesse of the place, Did lay him downe upon the brim: and as he stooped lowe To staunche his thurst, another thurst of worse effect did growe. For as he dranke, he chaunst to spie the Image of his face, The which he did immediately with fervent love embrace. He feedes a hope without cause why. For like a foolishe noddie He thinkes the shadow that he sees, to be a lively boddie. Astraughted like an ymage made of Marble stone he lyes, There gazing on his shadowe still with fixed staring eyes. Stretcht all along upon the ground, it doth him good to see His ardant eyes which like two starres full bright and shyning bee, And eke his fingars, fingars such as Bacchus might beseeme, And haire that one might worthely Apollos haire it deeme, His beardlesse chinne and yvorie necke, and eke the perfect grace Of white and red indifferently bepainted in his face. All these he woondreth to beholde, for which (as I doe gather) Himselfe was to be woondred at, or to be pitied rather. He is enamored of himselfe for want of taking heede, And where he lykes another thing, he lykes himselfe in deede. He is the partie whome he wooes, and suter that doth wooe, He is the flame that settes on fire, and thing that burneth tooe. O Lord how often did he kisse that false deceitfull thing? How often did he thrust his armes midway into the spring To have embraste the necke he saw and could not catch himselfe? He knowes not what it was he sawe. And yet the foolish elfe Doth burne in ardent love thereof. The verie selfsame thing That doth bewitch and blinde his eyes, encreaseth all his sting. Thou fondling thou, why doest thou raught the fickle image so? The thing thou seekest is not there. And if aside thou go, The thing thou lovest straight is gone. It is none other matter That thou doest see, than of thy selfe the shadow in the water. The thing is nothing of it selfe: with thee it doth abide, With thee it would departe if thou withdrew thy selfe aside. No care of meate could draw him thence, nor yet desire of rest. But lying flat against the ground, and leaning on his brest, With greedie eyes he gazeth still uppon the falced face, And through his sight is wrought his bane. Yet for a little space He turnes and settes himselfe upright, and holding up his hands With piteous voyce unto the wood that round about him stands, Cryes out and ses: Alas ye Woods, and was there ever any That loovde so cruelly as I? you know: for unto many A place of harbrough have you beene, and fort of refuge strong. Can you remember any one in all your tyme so long That hath so pinde away as I? I see and am full faine, Howbeit that I like and see I can not yet attaine: So great a blindnesse in my heart through doting love doth raigne. And for to spight me more withall, it is no journey farre, No drenching Sea, no Mountaine hie, no wall, no locke, no barre, It is but even a little droppe that keepes us two asunder. He would be had. For looke how oft I kisse the water under, So oft againe with upwarde mouth he riseth towarde mee. A man would thinke to touch at least I should yet able bee. It is a trifle in respect that lettes us of our love. What wight soever that thou art come hither up above. O pierlesse piece, why dost thou mee thy lover thus delude? Or whither fliste thou of thy friende thus earnestly pursude? Iwis I neyther am so fowle nor yet so growne in yeares That in this wise thou shouldst me shoon. To have me to their Feeres, The Nymphes themselves have sude ere this. And yet (as should appeere) Thou dost pretende some kinde of hope of friendship by thy cheere. For when I stretch mine armes to thee, thou stretchest thine likewise. And if I smile thou smilest too: and when that from mine eyes The teares doe drop, I well perceyve the water stands in thine. Like gesture also dost thou make to everie becke of mine. And as by moving of thy sweete and lovely lippes I weene, Thou speakest words although mine eares conceive not what they beene, It is my selfe I well perceyve, it is mine Image sure, That in this sort deluding me, this furie doth procure. I am inamored of my selfe, I doe both set on fire, And am the same that swelteth too, through impotent desire. What shall I doe? be woode or woo? whome shall I woo therefore? The thing I seeke is in my selfe, my plentie makes me poore. I would to God I for a while might from my bodie part. This wish is straunge to heare, a Lover wrapped all in smart To wish away the thing the which he loveth as his heart. My sorrowe takes away my strength. I have not long to live, But in the floure of youth must die. To die it doth not grieve. For that by death shall come the ende of all my griefe and paine I would this yongling whome I love might lenger life obtaine: For in one soule shall now decay we stedfast Lovers twaine. This saide in rage he turnes againe unto the forsaide shade, And rores the water with the teares and sloubring that he made, That through his troubling of the Well his ymage gan to fade. Which when he sawe to vanish so: Oh whither dost thou flie? Abide I pray thee heartely, aloud he gan to crie. Forsake me not so cruelly that loveth thee so deere, But give me leave a little while my dazled eyes to cheere With sight of that which for to touch is utterly denide, Thereby to feede my wretched rage and furie for a tide. As in this wise he made his mone, he stripped off his cote And with his fist outragiously his naked stomacke smote. A ruddie colour where he smote rose on his stomacke sheere, Lyke Apples which doe partly white and striped red appeere, Or as the clusters ere the grapes to ripenesse fully come: An Orient purple here and there beginnes to grow on some. Which things as soon as in the spring he did beholde againe, He could no longer beare it out. But fainting straight for paine, As lith and supple waxe doth melt against the burning flame, Or morning dewe against the Sunne that glareth on the same: Even so by piecemale being spent and wasted through desire, Did he consume and melt away with Cupids secret fire. His lively hue of white and red, his cheerefulnesse and strength And all the things that lyked him did wanze away at length. So that in fine remayned not the bodie which of late The wretched Echo loved so. Who when she sawe his state, Although in heart she angrie were, and mindefull of his pride, Yet ruing his unhappie case, as often as he cride Alas, she cride, Alas likewise with shirle redoubled sound. And when he beate his breast, or strake his feete against the ground, She made like noyse of clapping too. These are the woordes that last Out of his lippes beholding still his woonted ymage past: Alas sweete boy belovde in vaine, farewell. And by and by With sighing sound the selfesame wordes the Echo did reply. With that he layde his wearie head against the grassie place And death did doze his gazing eyes that woondred at the grace And beautie which did late adorne their Masters heavenly face. And afterward when into Hell receyved was his spright He goes me to the Well of Styx, and there both day and night Standes tooting on his shadow still as fondely as before. The water Nymphes, his sisters, wept and wayled for him sore And on his bodie strowde their haire clipt off and shorne therefore. The Wood nymphes also did lament. And Echo did rebound To every sorrowfull noyse of theirs with like lamenting sound. The fire was made to burne the corse, and waxen Tapers light. A Herce to lay the bodie on with solemne pompe was dight. But as for bodie none remaind: in stead thereof they found A yellow floure with milke white leaves new sprong upon the ground. This matter all Achaia through did spreade the Prophets fame: That every where of just desert renowned was his name. But Penthey, olde Echions sonne (who proudely did disdaine Both God and man) did laughe to scorne the Prophets words as vaine, Upbrading him most spitefully with loosing of his sight, And with the fact for which he lost fruition of this light. The good olde father (for these wordes his pacience much did move) Saide: how happie shouldest thou be and blessed from above, If thou wert blinde as well as I, so that thou might not see The sacred rytes of Bacchus band. For sure the time will bee, And that full shortely (as I gesse) that hither shall resort Another Bacchus, Semelles sonne, whome if thou not support With pompe and honour like a God, thy carcasse shall be tattred, And in a thousand places eke about the Woods be scattred. And for to reade thee what they are that shall perfourme the deede, It is thy mother and thine Auntes that thus shall make thee bleede. I know it shall so come to passe, for why thou shalt disdaine, To honour Bacchus as a God: and then thou shalt with paine Feele how that blinded as I am I sawe for thee too much. As olde Tiresias did pronounce these wordes and other such, Echions sonne did trouble him. His wordes prove true in deede, For as the Prophet did forespeake so fell it out with speede. Anon this newefound Bacchus commes: the woods and fieldes rebound With noyse of shouts and howling out, and such confused sound. The folke runne flocking out by heapes, men, Mayds and wives togither The noble men and rascall sorte ran gadding also thither, The Orgies of this unknowne God full fondely to performe, The which when Penthey did perceyve, he gan to rage and storme. And sayde unto them: O ye ympes of Mars his snake by kinde What ayleth you? what fiend of hell doth thus enrage your minde? Hath tinking sound of pottes and pannes, hath noyse of crooked home, Have fonde illusions such a force that them whome heretoforne No arming sworde, no bloudie trumpe, no men in battail ray Could cause to shrinke, no sheepish shriekes of simple women fray, And dronken woodnesse wrought by wine and roughts of filthie freakes And sound of toying timpanes dauntes, and quite their courage breakes? Shall I at you, yee auncient men which from the towne of Tyre To bring your housholde Gods by Sea, in safetie did aspyre, And setled*hem within this place the which ye nowe doe yeelde In bondage quite without all force and fighting in the fielde, Or woonder at you yonger sorte approching unto mee More neare in courage and in yeares? whome meete it were to see With speare and not with thirse in hande, with glittring helme on hed, And not with leaves. Now call to minde of whome ye all are bred, And take the stomackes of that Snake, which being one alone, Right stoutly in his owne defence confounded many one. He for his harbrough and his spring his lyfe did nobly spend. Doe you no more but take a heart your Countrie to defende. He put to death right valeant knightes. Your battaile is with such As are but Meicocks in effect: and yet ye doe so much In conquering them, that by the deede the olde renowne ye save, Which from your fathers by discent this present time ye have. If fatall destnies doe forbid that Thebae long shall stande, Would God that men with Canon shot might raze it out of hande. Would God the noyse of fire and sworde did in our hearing sound. For then in this our wretchednesse there could no fault be found. Then might we justly waile our case that all the world might see We should not neede of sheading teares ashamed for to bee. But now our towne is taken by a naked beardelesse boy, Who doth not in the feates of armes nor horse nor armour joy, But for to moyste his haire with Mirrhe, and put on garlands gay, And in soft Purple silke and golde his bodie to aray. But put to you your helping hand and straight without delay I will compell him poynt by poynt his lewdnesse to bewray, Both in usurping Joves high name in making him his sonne And forging of these Ceremonies lately now begonne. Hath King Atrisius heart inough this fondling for to hate That makes himselfe to be a God? and for to shut the gate Of Argus at his comming there? and shall this rover make King Penthey and the noble towne of Thebae thus to quake? Go quickly sirs (these wordes he spake unto his servaunts) go And bring the Captaine hither bound with speede. Why stay ye so? His Grandsire Cadmus, Athamas and others of his kinne Reproved him by gentle meanes but nothing could they winne: The more intreatance that they made the fiercer was he still: The more his friendes did go about to breake him of his will, The more they did provoke his wrath, and set his rage on fire: They made him worse in that they sought to bridle his desire. So have I seene a brooke ere this, where nothing let the streame, Runne smooth with little noyse or none, but where as any beame Or cragged stones did let his course, and make him for to stay: It went more fiercely from the stoppe with fomie wroth away. Beholde all bloudie come his men, and straight he them demaunded Where Bacchus was, and why they had not done as he commaunded. Sir (aunswerde they) we saw him not, but this same fellow heere A chiefe companion in his traine and worker in this geere, Wee tooke by force: and therewithall presented to their Lord A certaine man of Tirrhene lande, his handes fast bound with cord, Whome they, frequenting Bacchus rites had found but late before. A grim and cruell looke which yre did make to seeme more sore, Did Penthey cast upon the man. And though he scarcely stayd From putting him to tormentes strait, O wretched man (he sayde) Who by thy worthie death shalt be a sample unto other, Declare to me the names of thee, thy father and thy mother, And in what Countrie thou wert borne, and what hath caused thee, Of these straunge rites and sacrifice, a follower for to bee. He voyd of feare made aunswere thus: Acetis is my name: Of Parentes but of lowe degree in Lidy land I came. No ground for painfull Oxe to till, no sheepe to beare me wooll My father left me: no nor horse, nor Asse, nor Cow nor Booll. God wote he was but poore himselfe. With line and bayted hooke The frisking fishes in the pooles upon his Reede he tooke. His handes did serve in steade of landes, his substance was his craft. Nowe have I made you true accompt of all that he me laft, As well of ryches as of trades, in which I was his heire And successour. For when that death bereft him use of aire, Save water he me nothing left. It is the thing alone Which for my lawfull heritage I clayme, and other none. Soone after I (bicause that loth I was to ay abide In that poore state) did learne a ship by cunning hande to guide, And for to know the raynie signe, that hight th'Olenien Gote Which with hir milke did nourish Jove. And also I did note The Pleiads and the Hiads moyst, and eke the siely Plough With all the dwellings of the winds that make the Seas so rough. And eke such Havens as are meete to harbrough vessels in: With everie starre and heavenly signe that guides to shipmen bin. Now as by chaunce I late ago did toward Dilos sayle, I came on coast of Scios Ile, and seeing day to fayle, Tooke harbrough there and went alande. As soone as that the night Was spent, and morning gan to peere with ruddie glaring light, I rose and bad my companie fresh water fetch aboord. And pointing them the way that led directly to the foorde, I went me to a little hill, and viewed round about To see what weather we were lyke to have ere setting out. Which done, I cald my watermen and all my Mates togither, And willde them all to go aboord my selfe first going thither. Loe here we are (Opheltes sayd) (he was the Maysters Mate) And (as he thought) a bootie found in desert fields alate, He dragd a boy upon his hande that for his beautie sheene A mayden rather than a boy appeared for to beene. This childe, as one forelade with wine, and dreint with drousie sleepe Did reele, as though he scarcely coulde himselfe from falling keepe. I markt his countnance, weede and pace, no inckling could I see, By which I might conjecture him a mortall wight to bee. I thought, and to my fellowes sayd: What God I can not tell But in this bodie that we see some Godhead sure doth dwell. What God so ever that thou art, thy favour to us showe, And in our labours us assist, and pardone these also. Pray for thy selfe and not for us (quoth Dictys by and by). A nimbler fellow for to climbe upon the Mast on hie And by the Cable downe to slide, there was not in our keele. Swart Melanth patrone of the shippe did like his saying weele. So also did Alcimedon: and so did Libys too, And blacke Epopeus eke whose charge it did belong unto To see the Rowers at their tymes their dueties duely do. And so did all the rest of them: so sore mennes eyes were blinded Where covetousenesse of filthie gaine is more than reason minded. Well sirs (quoth I) but by your leave ye shall not have it so, I will not suffer sacriledge within this shippe to go. For I have here the most to doe. And with that worde I stept Uppon the Hatches, all the rest from entrance to have kept. The rankest Ruffian of the rout that Lycab had to name, (Who for a murder being late driven out of Tuscane came To me for succor) waxed woode, and with his sturdie fist Did give me such a churlish blow bycause I did resist, That over boord he had me sent, but that with much ado I caught the tackling in my hand and helde me fast thereto: The wicked Varlets had a sport to see me handled so. Then Bacchus (for it Bacchus was) as though he had but tho Bene waked with their noyse from sleepe, and that his drousie braine Discharged of the wine, begon to gather sence againe, Said: What adoe? what noyse is this? how came I here I pray? Sirs tell me whether you doe meane to carie me away. Feare not my boy (the Patrone sayd) no more but tell me where Thou doest desire to go alande, and we will set thee there. To Naxus ward (quoth Bacchus tho) set ship upon the fome. There would I have yow harbrough take, for Naxus is my home. Like perjurde Caitifs by the Sea and all the Gods thereof, They falsly sware it should be so, and therewithall in scoffe They bade me hoyse up saile and go. Upon the righter hand I cast about to fetch the winde, for so did Naxus stand. What meanst? art mad? Opheltes cride, and therewithall begun A feare of loosing of their pray through every man to run. The greater part with head and hand a signe did to me make, And some did whisper in mine eare the left hand way to take. I was amazde and said: Take charge henceforth who will for me: For of your craft and wickednesse I will no furthrer be. Then fell they to reviling me, and all the rout gan grudge: Of which Ethalion said in scorne: By like in you Sir snudge Consistes the savegard of us all. And wyth that word he takes My roume, and leaving Naxus quite to other countries makes. The God then dalying with these mates, as though he had at last Begon to smell their suttle craft, out of the foredecke cast His eye upon the Sea: and then as though he seemde to weepe, Sayd: Sirs, to bring me on this coast ye doe not promise keepe. I see that this is not the land the which I did request. For what occasion in this sort deserve I to be drest? What commendation can you win, or praise thereby receyve, If men a Lad, if many one ye compasse to deceyve? I wept and sobbed all this while, the wicked villaines laught, And rowed forth with might and maine, as though they had bene straught. Now even by him (for sure than he in all the worlde so wide There is no God more neare at hand at every time and tide) I sweare unto you that the things the which I shall declare, Like as they seeme incredible, even so most true they are. The ship stoode still amid the Sea as in a dustie docke. They wondring at this miracle, and making but a mocke, Persist in beating with their Ores, and on with all their sayles. To make their Galley to remove, no Art nor labor fayles. But Ivie troubled so their Ores that forth they could not row: And both with Beries and with leaves their sailes did overgrow. And he himselfe with clustred grapes about his temples round, Did shake a Javeling in his hand that round about was bound With leaves of Vines: and at his feete there seemed for to couch Of Tygers, Lynx, and Panthers shapes most ougly for to touch. I cannot tell you whether feare or woodnesse were the cause, But every person leapeth up and from his labor drawes. And there one Medon first of all began to waxen blacke, And having lost his former shape did take a courbed backe. What Monster shall we have of thee (quoth Licab) and with that This Licabs chappes did waxen wide, his nosetrils waxed flat, His skin waxt tough, and scales thereon began anon to grow. And Libis as he went about the Ores away to throw, Perceived how his hands did shrinke and were become so short, That now for finnes and not for hands he might them well report. Another as he would have claspt his arme about the corde: Had nere an arme, and so bemaimd in bodie, over boord He leapeth downe among the waves, and forked is his tayle As are the homes of Phebes face when halfe hir light doth fayle. They leape about and sprinkle up much water on the ship, One while they swim above, and downe againe anon they slip. They fetch their friskes as in a daunce, and wantonly they writhe Now here now there among the waves their bodies bane and lithe. And with their wide and hollow nose the water in they snuffe, And by their noses out againe as fast they doe it puffe. Of twentie persons (for our ship so many men did beare) I only did remaine nigh straught and trembling still for feare. The God could scarce recomfort me, and yet he said: Go too, Feare not but saile to Dia ward. His will I gladly doe. And so as soone as I came there with right devout intent, His Chaplaine I became. And thus his Orgies I frequent. Thou makste a processe verie long (quoth Penthey) to th'intent That (choler being coolde by time) mine anger might relent. But Sirs (he spake it to his men) go take him by and by, With cruell torments out of hand goe cause him for to die. Immediately they led away Acetes out of sight, And put him into prison strong from which there was no flight. But while the cruell instruments of death as sword and fire Were in preparing wherewithall t'accomplish Pentheys yre, It is reported that the doores did of their owne accorde Burst open and his chaines fall off. And yet this cruell Lorde Persisteth fiercer than before, not bidding others go But goes himselfe unto the hill Cytheron, which as tho To Bacchus being consecrate did ring of chaunted songs, And other loud confused sounds of Bacchus drunken throngs. And even as when the bloudie Trumpe doth to the battell sound, The lustie horse streight neying out bestirres him on the ground, And taketh courage thereupon t'assaile his emnie proud: Even so when Penthey heard afarre the noyse and howling loud That Bacchus franticke folke did make, it set his heart on fire, And kindled fiercer than before the sparks of settled ire. There is a goodly plaine about the middle of the hill, Environd in with Woods, where men may view eche way at will. Here looking on these holie rites with lewde prophaned eyes King Pentheys mother first of all hir foresaid sonne espies, And like a Bedlem first of all she doth upon him runne, And with hir Javeling furiously she first doth wound hir sonne. Come hither sisters come, she cries, here is that mighty Bore, Here is the Bore that stroyes our fieldes, him will I strike therefore. With that they fall upon him all as though they had bene mad, And clustring all upon a heape fast after him they gad. He quakes and shakes: his words are now become more meeke and colde: He now condemnes his owne default, and sayes he was too bolde. And wounded as he was he cries: Helpe, Aunt Autonoe, Now for Acteons blessed soule some mercie show to me. She wist not who Acteon was, but rent without delay His right hand off: and Ino tare his tother hand away. To lift unto his mother tho the wretch had nere an arme: But shewing hir his maimed corse, and woundes yet bleeding warme, O mother see, he sayes: with that Agaue howleth out: And writhed with hir necke awrie, and shooke hir haire about. And holding from his bodie tome his head in bloudie hands, She cries: fellowes in this deede our noble conquest stands. No sooner could the winde have blowen the rotten leaves from trees, When Winters frost hath bitten them, then did the hands of these Most wicked women Pentheys limmes from one another teare. The Thebanes being now by this example brought in feare, Frequent this newfound sacrifice, and with sweete frankinsence God Bacchus Altars lode with gifts in every place doe cense. Yet would not stout Alcithoe, Duke Mineus daughter, bow The Orgies of this newfound God in conscience to allow But still she stiffly doth denie that Bacchus is the sonne Of Jove: and in this heresie hir sisters with hir runne. The Priest had bidden holiday, and that as well the Maide As Mistresse (for the time aside all other businesse layde) In Buckskin cotes, with tresses loose, and garlondes on their heare, Should in their hands the leavie speares (surnamed Thyrsis) beare, Foretelling them that if they did the Goddes commaundement breake, He would with sore and grievous plagues his wrath upon them wreake. The women straight both yong and olde doe thereunto obay. Their yarne, their baskets, and their flax unsponne aside they lay, And burne to Bacchus frankinsence. Whome solemly they call By all the names and titles high that may to him befall: As Bromius, and Lyeus eke, begotten of the flame, Twice borne, the sole and only childe that of two mothers came, Unshorne Thyoney, Niseus, Leneus, and the setter Of Wines, whose pleasant liquor makes all tables fare the better, Nyctileus and th'Elelean Sire, Iacchus, Evan eke, With divers other glorious names that through the land of Greke To thee O Liber wonted are to attributed bee. Thy youthfull yeares can never wast: there dwelleth ay in thee A childhod tender, fresh and faire: in Heaven we doe thee see Surmounting every other thing in beautie and in grace And when thou standste without thy homes thou hast a Maidens face. To thee obeyeth all the East as far as Ganges goes, Which doth the scorched land of Inde with tawnie folke enclose. Lycurgus with his twibill sharpe, and Penthey who of pride Thy Godhead and thy mightie power rebelliously denide, Thou right redowted didst confounde: thou into Sea didst send The Tyrrhene shipmen. Thou with bittes the sturdy neckes doste bend Of spotted Lynxes: throngs of Frowes and Satyres on thee tend, And that olde Hag that with a staffe his staggering limmes doth stay Scarce able on his Asse to sit for reeling every way. Thou commest not in any place but that is hearde the noyse Of gagling womens tatling tongues and showting out of boyes, With sound of Timbrels, Tabors, Pipes, and Brazen pannes and pots Confusedly among the rout that in thine Orgies trots. The Thebane women for thy grace and favour humbly sue, And (as the Priest did bid) frequent thy rites with reverence due. Alonly Mineus daughters bent of wilfulnesse, with working Quite out of time to breake the feast, are in their houses lurking: And there doe fall to spinning yarne, or weaving in the frame, And kepe their maidens to their worke. Of which one pleasant dame As she with nimble hand did draw hir slender threede and fine, Said: Whyle that others idelly doe serve the God of wine, Let us that serve a better Sainct Minerva, finde some talke To ease our labor while our handes about our profite walke. And for to make the time seeme shorte, let eche of us recite, (As every bodies turne shall come) some tale that may delight. Hir saying likte the rest so well that all consent therein, And thereupon they pray that first the eldest would begin. She had such store and choyce of tales she wist not which to tell. She doubted if she might declare the fortune that befell To Dircetes of Babilon whome now with scaly hide In altred shape the Philistine beleveth to abide In watrie Pooles: or rather how hir daughter taking wings In shape of Dove on toppes of towres in age now sadly sings: Or how a certaine water Nymph by witchcraft and by charmes Converted into fishes dumbe of yongmen many swarmes, Untill that of the selfesame sauce hir selfe did tast at last: Or how the tree that usde to beare fruite white in ages past, Doth now beare fruite in manner blacke, by sprincling up of blood. This tale (bicause it was not stale nor common) seemed good To hir to tell: and thereupon she in this wise begun, Hir busie hand still drawing out the flaxen threede she spun: Within the towne (of whose huge walles so monstrous high and thicke The fame is given Semyramis for making them of bricke) Dwelt hard together two yong folke in houses joynde so nere That under all one roofe well nie both twaine conveyed were. The name of him was Pyramus, and Thisbe calde was she. So faire a man in all the East was none alive as he, Nor nere a woman, maide nor wife in beautie like to hir. This neighbrod bred acquaintance first, this neyghbrod first did stirre The secret sparkes, this neighbrod first an entrance in did showe, For love to come to that to which it afterward did growe. And if that right had taken place they had bene man and wife, But still their Parents went about to let which (for their life) They could not let. For both their heartes with equall flame did burne. No man was privie to their thoughts. And for to serve their turne In steade of talke they used signes. The closelier they supprest - The fire of love, the fiercer still it raged in their brest. The wall that parted house from house had riven therein a crany Which shronke at making of the wall. This fault not markt of any Of many hundred yeares before (what doth not love espie) These lovers first of all found out, and made a way whereby To talke togither secretly, and through the same did goe Their loving whisprings verie light and safely to and fro. Now as at one side Pyramus and Thisbe on the tother Stoode often drawing one of them the pleasant breath from other: O thou envious wall (they sayd) why letst thou lovers thus? What matter were it if that thou permitted both of us In armes eche other to embrace? Or if thou thinke that this Were overmuch, yet mightest thou at least make roume to kisse. And yet thou shalt not finde us churles: we thinke our selves in det For this same piece of courtesie, in vouching safe to let Our sayings to our friendly eares thus freely come and goe. Thus having where they stoode in vaine complayned of their woe, When night drew nere, they bade adew and eche gave kisses sweete Unto the parget on their side, the which did never meete. Next morning with hir cherefull light had driven the starres aside And Phebus with his burning beames the dewie grasse had dride. These lovers at their wonted place by foreappointment met. Where after much complaint and mone they covenanted to get Away from such as watched them and in the Evening late To steale out of their fathers house and eke the Citie gate. And to th'intent that in the fieldes they strayde not up and downe They did agree at Ninus Tumb to meete without the towne, And tarie underneath a tree that by the same did grow Which was a faire high Mulberie with fruite as white as snow, Hard by a coole and trickling spring. This bargaine pleasde them both And so daylight (which to their thought away but slowly goth) Did in the Ocean fall to rest, and night from thence doth rise. As soone as darkenesse once was come, straight Thisbe did devise A shift to wind hir out of doores, that none that were within Perceyved hir: and muffling hir with clothes about hir chin, That no man might discerne hir face, to Ninus Tumb she came Unto the tree, and sat hir downe there underneath the same. Love made hir bold. But see the chaunce, there comes besmerde with blood About the chappes a Lionesse all foming from the wood From slaughter lately made of kine to staunch hir bloudie thurst With water of the foresaid spring. Whome Thisbe spying furst, Afarre by moonelight, thereupon with fearfull steppes gan flie, And in a darke and yrkesome cave did hide hirselfe thereby. And as she fled away for hast she let hir mantle fall The whych for feare she left behind not looking backe at all. Now when the cruell Lionesse hir thurst had stanched well, In going to the Wood she found the slender weede that fell From Thisbe, which with bloudie teeth in pieces she did teare. The night was somewhat further spent ere Pyramus came there Who seeing in the suttle sande the print of Lions paw, Waxt pale for feare. But when also the bloudie cloke he saw All rent and tome: One night (he sayd) shall lovers two confounde, Of which long life deserved she of all that live on ground. My soule deserves of this mischaunce the perill for to beare. I, wretch, have bene the death of thee, which to this place of feare Did cause thee in the night to come, and came not here before. My wicked limmes and wretched guttes with cruell teeth therfore Devour ye, O ye Lions all that in this rocke doe dwell. But Cowardes use to wish for death. The slender weede that fell From Thisbe up he takes, and streight doth beare it to the tree, Which was appointed erst the place of meeting for to bee. And when he had bewept and kist the garment which he knew, Receyve thou my bloud too (quoth he) and therewithall he drew His sworde, the which among his guttes he thrust, and by and by Did draw it from the bleeding wound beginning for to die, And cast himselfe upon his backe, the bloud did spin on hie As when a Conduite pipe is crackt, the water bursting out Doth shote it selfe a great way off and pierce the Ayre about. The leaves that were upon the tree besprincled with his blood Were died blacke. The roote also bestained as it stoode, A deepe darke purple colour straight upon the Berries cast. Anon scarce ridded of hir feare with which she was agast, For doubt of disapointing him commes Thisbe forth in hast, And for hir lover lookes about, rejoycing for to tell How hardly she had scapt that night the daunger that befell. And as she knew right well the place and facion of the tree (As whych she saw so late before): even so when she did see The colour of the Berries turnde, she was uncertaine whither It were the tree at which they both agreed to meete togither. While in this doubtfull stounde she stoode, she cast hir eye aside And there beweltred in his bloud hir lover she espide Lie sprawling with his dying limmes: at which she started backe, And looked pale as any Box, a shuddring through hir stracke, Even like the Sea which sodenly with whissing noyse doth move, When with a little blast of winde it is but toucht above. But when approching nearer him she knew it was hir love, She beate hir brest, she shricked out, she tare hir golden heares, And taking him betweene hir armes did wash his wounds with teares, She meynt hir weeping with his bloud, and kissing all his face (Which now became as colde as yse) she cride in wofull case: Alas what chaunce, my Pyramus, hath parted thee and mee? Make aunswere O my Pyramus: it is thy Thisb', even shee Whome thou doste love most heartely, that speaketh unto thee. Give eare and rayse thy heavie heade. He hearing Thisbes name, Lift up his dying eyes and having seene hir closde the same. But when she knew hir mantle there and saw his scabberd lie Without the swoorde: Unhappy man thy love hath made thee die: Thy love (she said) hath made thee sley thy selfe. This hand of mine Is strong inough to doe the like. My love no lesse than thine Shall give me force to worke my wound. I will pursue the dead. And wretched woman as I am, it shall of me be sed That like as of thy death I was the only cause and blame, So am I thy companion eke and partner in the same, For death which only coulde alas asunder part us twaine, Shall never so dissever us but we will meete againe. And you the Parentes of us both, most wretched folke alyve, Let this request that I shall make in both our names bylive Entreate you to permit that we whome chaste and stedfast love And whome even death hath joynde in one, may as it doth behove In one grave be together layd. And thou unhappie tree Which shroudest now the corse of one, and shalt anon through mee Shroude two, of this same slaughter holde the sicker signes for ay, Blacke be the colour of thy fruite and mourning like alway, Such as the murder of us twaine may evermore bewray. This said, she tooke the sword yet warme with slaughter of hir love And setting it beneath hir brest, did to hir heart it shove. Hir prayer with the Gods and with their Parentes tooke effect. For when the frute is throughly ripe, the Berrie is bespect With colour tending to a blacke. And that which after fire Remained, rested in one Tumbe as Thisbe did desire. This tale thus tolde a little space of pawsing was betwist, And then began Leucothoe thus, hir sisters being whist: This Sunne that with his streaming light al worldly things doth cheare Was tane in love. Of Phebus loves now list and you shall heare. It is reported that this God did first of all espie, (For everie thing in Heaven and Earth is open to his eie) How Venus with the warlike Mars advoutrie did commit. It grieved him to see the fact and so discovered it, He shewed hir husband Junos sonne th'advoutrie and the place In which this privie scape was done. Who was in such a case That heart and hand and all did faile in working for a space. Anon he featly forgde a net of Wire so fine and slight, That neyther knot nor nooze therein apparant was to sight. This piece of worke was much more fine than any handwarpe oofe Or that whereby the Spider hanges in sliding from the roofe. And furthermore the suttlenesse and slight thereof was such, It followed every little pull and closde with every touch, And so he set it handsomly about the haunted couch. Now when that Venus and hir mate were met in bed togither Hir husband by his newfound snare before convayed thither Did snarle them both togither fast in middes of all theyr play And setting ope the Ivorie doores, callde all the Gods streight way To see them: they with shame inough fast lockt togither lay. A certaine God among the rest disposed for to sport Did wish that he himselfe also were shamed in that sort. The resdue laught and so in heaven there was no talke a while, But of this Pageant how the Smith the lovers did beguile. Dame Venus highly stomacking this great displeasure, thought To be revenged on the part by whome the spight was wrought. And like as he hir secret loves and meetings had bewrayd, So she with wound of raging love his guerdon to him payd. What now avayles (Hyperions sonne) thy forme and beautie bright? What now avayle thy glistring eyes with cleare and piercing sight? For thou that with thy gleames art wont all countries for to burne, Art burnt thy selfe with other gleames that serve not for thy turne. And thou that oughtst thy cherefull looke on all things for to shew Alonly on Leucothoe doste now the same bestow. Thou fastnest on that Maide alone the eyes that thou doste owe To all the worlde. Sometime more rathe thou risest in the East, Sometime againe thou makste it late before thou fall to reast. And for desire to looke on hir, thou often doste prolong Our winter nightes. And in thy light thou faylest eke among. The fancie of thy faultie minde infectes thy feeble sight, And so thou makste mens hearts afrayde by daunting of thy light, Thou looxte not pale bycause the globe of Phebe is betweene The Earth and thee: but love doth cause this colour to be seene. Thou lovest this Leucothoe so far above all other, That neyther now for Clymene, for Rhodos, nor the mother Of Circe, nor for Clytie (who at that present tyde Rejected from thy companie did for thy love abide Most grievous torments in hir heart) thou seemest for to care. Thou mindest hir so much that all the rest forgotten are. Hir mother was Eurynome of all the fragrant clime Of Arabie esteemde the flowre of beautie in hir time. But when hir daughter came to age the daughter past the mother As far in beautie, as before the mother past all other. Hir father was king Orchamus and rulde the publike weale Of Persey, counted by descent the seventh from auncient Bele. Far underneath the Westerne clyme of Hesperus doe runne The pastures of the firie steedes that draw the golden Sunne. There are they fed with Ambrosie in stead of grasse all night Which doth refresh their werie limmes and keepeth them in plight To beare their dailie labor out: now while the steedes there take Their heavenly foode and night by turne his timely course doth make, The God disguised in the shape of Queene Eurynome Doth prease within the chamber doore of faire Leucothoe His lover, whome amid twelve Maides he found by candlelight Yet spinning on hir little Rocke, and went me to hir right. And kissing hir as mothers use to kisse their daughters deare, Saide: Maydes, withdraw your selves a while and sit not listning here. I have a secret thing to talke. The Maides avoyde eche one, The God then being with his love in chamber all alone, Said: I am he that metes the yeare, that all things doe beholde, By whome the Earth doth all things see, the Eye of all the worlde. Trust me I am in love with thee. The Ladie was so nipt With sodaine feare that from hir hands both rocke and spindle slipt. Hir feare became hir wondrous well. He made no mo delayes, But turned to his proper shape and tooke hys glistring rayes. The damsell being sore abasht at this so straunge a sight, And overcome with sodaine feare to see the God so bright, Did make no outcrie nor no noyse, but helde hir pacience still, And suffred him by forced powre his pleasure to fulfill. Hereat did Clytie sore repine. For she beyond all measure Was then enamoured of the Sunne: and stung with this displeasure That he another Leman had, for verie spight and yre She playes the blab, and doth defame Leucothoe to hir Syre. He cruell and unmercifull would no excuse accept, But holding up hir handes to heaven when tenderly she wept, And said it was the Sunne that did the deede against hir will: Yet like a savage beast full bent his daughter for to spill, He put hir deepe in delved ground, and on hir bodie laide A huge great heape of heavie sand. The Sunne full yll appaide Did with his beames disperse the sand and made an open way To bring thy buried face to light, but such a weight there lay Upon thee, that thou couldst not raise thine hand aloft againe, And so a corse both voide of bloud and life thou didst remaine. There never chaunst since Phaetons fire a thing that grievde so sore The ruler of the winged steedes as this did. And therfore He did attempt if by the force and vertue of his ray He might againe to lively heate hir frozen limmes convay. But forasmuch as destenie so great attempts denies, He sprincles both the corse it selfe and place wherein it lyes With fragrant Nectar. And therewith bewayling much his chaunce Sayd: Yet above the starrie skie thou shalt thy selfe advaunce. Anon the body in this heavenly liquor steeped well Did melt, and moisted all the earth with sweete and pleasant smell. And by and by first taking roote among the cloddes within By little and by little did with growing top begin A pretie spirke of Frankinsence above the Tumbe to win. Although that Clytie might excuse hir sorrow by hir love And seeme that so to play the blab hir sorrow did hir move, Yet would the Author of the light resort to hir no more But did withholde the pleasant sportes of Venus usde before. The Nymph not able of hir selfe the franticke fume to stay, With restlesse care and pensivenesse did pine hir selfe away. Bareheaded on the bare cold ground with flaring haire unkempt She sate abrode both night and day: and clearly did exempt Hirselfe by space of thrise three dayes from sustnance and repast Save only dewe and save hir teares with which she brake hir fast. And in that while she never rose but stared on the Sunne And ever turnde hir face to his as he his corse did runne. Hir limmes stacke fast within the ground, and all hir upper part Did to a pale ashcolourd herbe cleane voyde of bloud convart. The floure whereof part red part white beshadowed with a blew Most like a Violet in the shape hir countnance overgrew. And now (though fastned with a roote) she turnes hir to the Sunne And keepes (in shape of herbe) the love with which she first begunne. She made an ende: and at hir tale all wondred: some denide Hir saying to be possible: and other some replide That such as are in deede true Gods may all things worke at will: But Bacchus is not any such. Thys arguing once made still, To tell hir tale as others had Alcithoes turne was come. Who with hir shettle shooting through hir web within the Loome, Said: Of the shepeheird Daphnyes love of Ida whom erewhile A jealouse Nymph (bicause he did with Lemans hir beguile) For anger turned to a stone (such furie love doth sende: ) I will not speake: it is to knowe: ne yet I doe entende To tell how Scython variably digressing from his kinde, Was sometime woman, sometime man, as liked best his minde. And Celmus also wyll I passe, who for bicause he cloong Most faithfully to Jupiter when Jupiter was yoong, Is now become an Adamant. So will I passe this howre To shew you how the Curets were engendred of a showre: Or how that Crocus and his love faire Smylax turned were To little flowres. With pleasant newes your mindes now will I chere. Learne why the fountaine Salmacis diffamed is of yore, Why with his waters overstrong it weakeneth men so sore That whoso bathes him there commes thence a perfect man no more. The operation of this Well is knowne to every wight. But few can tell the cause thereof, the which I will recite. The waternymphes did nurce a sonne of Mercuries in Ide Begot on Venus, in whose face such beautie did abide, As well therein his father both and mother might be knowne, Of whome he also tooke his name. As soone as he was growne To fiftene yeares of age, he left the Countrie where he dwelt And Ida that had fostered him. The pleasure that he felt To travell Countries, and to see straunge rivers with the state Of forren landes, all painfulnesse of travell did abate. He travelde through the lande of Lycie to Carie that doth bound Next unto Lycia. There he saw a Poole which to the ground Was Christall cleare. No fennie sedge, no barren reeke, no reede Nor rush with pricking poynt was there, nor other moorish weede. The water was so pure and shere a man might well have seene And numbred all the gravell stones that in the bottome beene. The utmost borders from the brim environd were with clowres Beclad with herbes ay fresh and greene and pleasant smelling flowres. A Nymph did haunt this goodly Poole: but such a Nymph as neyther To hunt, to run, nor yet to shoote, had any kinde of pleasure. Of all the Waterfairies she alonly was unknowne To swift Diana. As the bruit of fame abrode hath blowne, Hir sisters oftentimes would say: take lightsome Dart or bow, And in some painefull exercise thine ydle time bestow. But never could they hir persuade to runne, to shoote or hunt, Or any other exercise as Phebes knightes are wont. Sometime hir faire welformed limbes she batheth in hir spring: Sometime she downe hir golden haire with Boxen combe doth bring. And at the water as a glasse she taketh counsell ay How every thing becommeth hir. Erewhile in fine aray On soft sweete hearbes or soft greene leaves hir selfe she nicely layes: Erewhile againe a gathering flowres from place to place she strayes. And (as it chaunst) the selfesame time she was a sorting gayes To make a Poisie, when she first the yongman did espie, And in beholding him desirde to have his companie. But though she thought she stoode on thornes untill she went to him: Yet went she not before she had bedect hir neat and trim, And pride and peerd upon hir clothes that nothing sat awrie, And framde hir countnance as might seeme most amrous to the eie. Which done she thus begon: O childe most worthie for to bee Estemde and taken for a God, if (as thou seemste to mee) Thou be a God, to Cupids name thy beautie doth agree. Or if thou be a mortall wight, right happie folke are they, By whome thou camste into this worlde, right happy is (I say) Thy mother and thy sister too (if any bee): good hap That woman had that was thy Nurce and gave thy mouth hir pap. But farre above all other, far more blist than these is shee Whome thou vouchsafest for thy wife and bedfellow for to bee. Now if thou have alredy one, let me by stelth obtaine That which shall pleasure both of us. Or if thou doe remaine A Maiden free from wedlocke bonde, let me then be thy spouse, And let us in the bridelie bed our selves togither rouse. This sed, the Nymph did hold hir peace, and therewithall the boy Waxt red: he wist not what love was: and sure it was a joy To see it how exceeding well his blushing him became. For in his face the colour fresh appeared like the same That is in Apples which doe hang upon the Sunnie side: Or Ivorie shadowed with a red: or such as is espide Of white and scarlet colours mixt appearing in the Moone When folke in vaine with sounding brasse would ease unto hir done. When at the last the Nymph desirde most instantly but this, As to his sister brotherly to give hir there a kisse, And therewithall was clasping him about the Ivorie necke: Leave off (quoth he) or I am gone and leave thee at a becke With all thy trickes. Then Salmacis began to be afraide, And, To your pleasure leave I free this place, my friend, she sayde. Wyth that she turnes hir backe as though she would have gone hir way: But evermore she looketh backe, and (closely as she may) She hides hir in a bushie queach, where kneeling on hir knee She alwayes hath hir eye on him. He as a childe and free, And thinking not that any wight had watched what he did Romes up and downe the pleasant Mede: and by and by amid The flattring waves he dippes his feete, no more but first the sole And to the ancles afterward both feete he plungeth whole. And for to make the matter short, he tooke so great delight In coolenesse of the pleasant spring, that streight he stripped quight His garments from his tender skin. When Salmacis behilde His naked beautie, such strong pangs so ardently hir hilde, That utterly she was astraught. And even as Phebus beames Against a myrrour pure and clere rebound with broken gleames: Even so hir eys did sparcle fire. Scarce could she tarience make: Scarce could she any time delay hir pleasure for to take: She wolde have run, and in hir armes embraced him streight way: She was so far beside hir selfe, that scarsly could she stay. He clapping with his hollow hands against his naked sides, Into the water lithe and baine with armes displayed glydes. And rowing with his hands and legges swimmes in the water cleare: Through which his bodie faire and white doth glistringly appeare, As if a man an Ivorie Image or a Lillie white Should overlay or close with glasse that were most pure and bright. The prize is won (cride Salmacis aloud) he is mine owne. And therewithall in all post hast she having lightly throwne Hir garments off, flew to the Poole and cast hir thereinto And caught him fast between hir armes, for ought that he could doe: Yea maugre all his wrestling and his struggling to and fro, She held him still, and kissed him a hundred times and mo. And willde he nillde he with hir handes she toucht his naked brest: And now on this side now on that (for all he did resist And strive to wrest him from hir gripes) she clung unto him fast: And wound about him like a Snake which snatched up in hast And being by the Prince of Birdes borne lightly up aloft, Doth writhe hir selfe about his necke and griping talants oft: And cast hir taile about his wings displayed in the winde: Or like as Ivie runnes on trees about the utter rinde: Or as the Crabfish having caught his enmy in the Seas, Doth claspe him in on every side with all his crooked cleas. But Atlas Nephew still persistes, and utterly denies The Nymph to have hir hoped sport: she urges him likewise. And pressing him with all hir weight, fast cleaving to him still, Strive, struggle, wrest and writhe (she said) thou froward boy thy fill: Doe what thou canst thou shalt not scape. Ye Goddes of Heaven agree That this same wilfull boy and I may never parted bee. The Gods were pliant to hir boone. The bodies of them twaine Were mixt and joyned both in one. To both them did remaine One countnance: like as if a man should in one barke beholde Two twigges both growing into one and still togither holde. Even so when through hir hugging and hir grasping of the tother The members of them mingled were and fastned both togither, They were not any lenger two: but (as it were) a toy Of double shape. Ye could not say it was a perfect boy Nor perfect wench: it seemed both and none of both to beene. Now when Hermaphroditus saw how in the water sheene To which he entred in a man, his limmes were weakened so That out fro thence but halfe a man he was compelde to go, He lifteth up his hands and said (but not with manly reere): O noble father Mercurie, and Venus mother deere, This one petition graunt your son which both your names doth beare, That whoso commes within this Well may so be weakened there, That of a man but halfe a man he may fro thence retire. Both Parentes moved with the chaunce did stablish this desire The which their doubleshaped sonne had made: and thereupon Infected with an unknowne strength the sacred spring anon. Their tales did ende and Mineus daughters still their businesse plie In spight of Bacchus whose high feast they breake contemptuously. When on the sodaine (seeing nought) they heard about them round Of tubbish Timbrels perfectly a hoarse and jarring sound, With shraming shalmes and gingling belles, and furthermore they felt A cent of Saffron and of Myrrhe that verie hotly smelt. And (which a man would ill beleve) the web they had begun Immediatly waxt fresh and greene, the flaxe the which they spun Did flourish full of Ivie leaves. And part thereof did run Abrode in Vines. The threede it selfe in braunches forth did spring. Yong burgeons full of clustred grapes their Distaves forth did bring. And as the web they wrought was dide a deepe darke purple hew, Even so upon the painted grapes the selfesame colour grew. The day was spent, and now was come the time which neyther night Nor day, but even the bound of both a man may terme of right. The house at sodaine seemde to shake, and all about it shine With burning lampes, and glittering fires to flash before their eyen, And Likenesses of ougly beastes with gastfull noyses yeld. For feare whereof in smokie holes the sisters were compeld To hide their heades, one here and there another, for to shun The glistring light. And while they thus in corners blindly run, Upon their little pretie limmes a fine crispe filme there goes, And slender finnes in stead of handes their shortned armes enclose. But how they lost their former shape of certaintie to know The darknesse would not suffer them. No feathers on them grow, And yet with shere and velume wings they hover from the ground And when they goe about to speake they make but little sound, According as their bodies give, bewayling their despight By chirping shirlly to themselves. In houses they delight And not in woods: detesting day they flitter towards night: Wherethrough they of the Evening late in Latin take their name, And we in English language Backes or Reermice call the same. Then Bacchus name was reverenced through all the Theban coast, And Ino of hir Nephewes powre made every where great boast. Of Cadmus daughters she alone no sorowes tasted had, Save only that hir sisters haps perchaunce had made hir sad. Now Juno noting how she waxt both proud and full of scorne, As well by reason of the sonnes and daughters she had borne, As also that she was advaunst by mariage in that towne To Athamas, King Aeolus sonne, a Prince of great renowne, But chiefly that hir sisters sonne who nourced was by hir Was then exalted for a God: began thereat to stir, And freating at it in hirselfe said: Coulde this harlots burd Transforme the Lydian watermen, and drowne them in the foord? And make the mother teare the guttes in pieces of hir sonne? And Mineus al three daughters clad with wings, bicause they sponne Whiles others howling up and down like frantick folke did ronne? And can I Juno nothing else save sundrie woes bewaile? Is that sufficient? can my powre no more than so availe? He teaches me what way to worke. A man may take (I see) Example at his enmies hand the wiser for to bee. He shewes inough and overmuch the force of furious wrath By Pentheys death: why should not Ine be taught to tread the path The which hir sisters heretofore and kinred troden hath? There is a steepe and irksome way obscure with shadow fell Of balefull yewgh, all sad and still, that leadeth downe to hell. The foggie Styx doth breath up mistes: and downe this way doe wave The ghostes of persons lately dead and buried in the grave. Continuall colde and gastly feare possesse this queachie plot On eyther side: the siely Ghost new parted knoweth not The way that doth directly leade him to the Stygian Citie Or where blacke Pluto keepes his Court that never sheweth pitie. A thousand wayes, a thousand gates that alwayes open stand, This Citie hath: and as the Sea the streames of all the lande Doth swallow in his gredie gulfe, and yet is never full: Even so that place devoureth still and hideth in his gull The soules and ghostes of all the world: and though that nere so many Come thither, yet the place is voyd as if there were not any. The ghostes without flesh, bloud, or bones, there wander to and fro, Of which some haunt the judgement place: and other come and go To Plutos Court: and some frequent the former trades and Artes The which they used in their life: and some abide the smartes And torments for their wickednesse and other yll desartes. So cruell hate and spightfull wrath did boyle in Junos brest, That in the high and noble Court of Heaven she coulde not rest: But that she needes must hither come: whose feet no sooner toucht The thresholde, but it gan to quake. And Cerberus erst coucht Start sternely up with three fell heades which barked all togither. She callde the daughters of the night, the cruell furies, thither: They sate a kembing foule blacke Snakes from off their filthie heare Before the dungeon doore, the place where Caitives punisht were, The which was made of Adamant. When in the darke in part They knew Queene Juno, by and by upon their feete they start. There Titius stretched out (at least) nine acres full in length, Did with his bowels feede a Grype that tare them out by strength. The water fled from Tantalus that toucht his neather lip, And Apples hanging over him did ever from him slip. There also laborde Sisyphus that drave against the hill A rolling stone that from the top came tumbling downeward still. Ixion on his restlesse wheele to which his limmes were bound Did flie and follow both at once in turning ever round. And Danaus daughters forbicause they did their cousins kill, Drew water into running tubbes which evermore did spill. When Juno with a louring looke had vewde them all through- out, And on Ixion specially before the other rout, She turnes from him to Sisyphus, and with an angry cheere Sayes: Wherefore should this man endure continuall penance here, And Athamas his brother reigne in welth and pleasure free Who through his pride hath ay disdainde my husband Jove and mee? And therewithall she poured out th'occasion of hir hate, And why she came and what she would. She would that Cadmus state Should with the ruine of his house be brought to swyft decay, And that to mischiefe Athamas the Fiendes should force some way. She biddes, she prayes, she promises, and all is with a breth, And moves the furies earnestly: and as these things she seth, The hatefull Hag Tisiphone with horie ruffled heare, Removing from hir face the Snakes that loosely dangled there, Sayd thus: Madame there is no neede long circumstance to make. Suppose your will already done. This lothsome place forsake, And to the holsome Ayre of heaven your selfe agayne retire. Queene Juno went right glad away with graunt of hir desire. And as she woulde have entred heaven, the Ladie Iris came And purged hir with streaming drops. Anon upon the same The furious Fiende Tisiphone doth cloth hir out of hand In garment streaming gorie bloud, and taketh in hir hand A burning Cresset steepte in bloud, and girdeth hir about With wreathed Snakes and so goes forth. And at hir going out, Feare, terror, grief and pensivenesse for companie she tooke, And also madnesse with his flaight, and gastly staring looke. Within the house of Athamas no sooner foote she set, But that the postes began to quake and doores looke blacke as Jet. The sonne withdrew him, Athamas and eke his wife were cast With ougly sightes in such a feare, that out of doores agast They would have fled. There stoode the Fiend, and stopt their passage out, And splaying forth hir filthie armes beknit with Snakes about, Did tosse and wave hir hatefull head. The swarme of scaled snakes Did make an irksome noyse to heare as she hir tresses shakes. About hir shoulders some did craule: some trayling downe hir brest Did hisse and spit out poyson greene, and spirt with tongues infest. Then from amyd hir haire two snakes with venymd hand she drew Of which shee one at Athamas and one at Ino threw. The snakes did craule about their breasts, inspiring in their heart Most grievous motions of the minde: the bodie had no smart Of any wound: it was the minde that felt the cruell stings. A poyson made in Syrup wise, shee also with hir brings. The filthie fome of Cerberus, the casting of the Snake Echidna, bred among the Fennes about the Stygian Lake: Desire of gadding foorth abroad: forgetfulnesse of minde: Delight in mischiefe: woodnesse: teares: and purpose whole inclinde To cruell murther: all the which shee did together grinde: And mingling them with new shed bloud had boyled them in brasse, And stird them with a Hemblock stalke. Now whyle that Athamas And Ino stood and quakte for feare, this poyson ranke and fell Shee tourned into both their breastes and made their heartes to swell. Then whisking often round about hir head hir balefull brand, She made it soone by gathering winde to kindle in hir hand. Thus as it were in triumph wise accomplishing hir hest, To Duskie Plutos emptie Realme shee gettes hir home to rest, And putteth off the snarled Snakes that girded in hir brest. Immediatly King Aeolus sonne starke madde comes crying out Through all the court: What meane yee Sirs? why go yee not about To pitch our toyles within this chace? I saw even nowe here ran A Lyon with hir two yong whelpes. And there withall he gan To chase his wyfe as if in deede shee had a Lyon beene And lyke a Bedlem boystouslie he snatcheth from betweene The mothers armes h's little babe Loearchus smyling on him And reaching foorth his preatie armes, and floong him fiercely from him A twice or thrice as from a slyng: and dasht his tender head Against a hard and rugged stone until he sawe him dead. The wretched mother (whither griefe did move hir thereunto Or that the poyson spred within did force hir so to doe) Howld out and frantikly with scattered haire about hir eares And with hir little Melicert whome hastely shee beares In naked armes she cryeth out, Hoe Bacchus. At the name Of Bacchus Juno gan to laugh and scorning sayde in game: This guerden loe thy foster child requiteth for the same. There hangs a rocke about the Sea the foote whereof is eate So hollow with the saltish waves which on the same doe beate, That like a house it keepeth off the moysting showers of rayne. The toppe is rough and shootes his front amiddes the open mayne. Dame Ino (madnesse made hir strong) did climb this cliffe anon And headlong downe (without regarde of hurt that hoong thereon) Did throwe hir burden and hir selfe, the water where shee dasht In sprincling upwarde glisterd red. But Venus sore abasht At this hir Neeces great mischaunce without offence or fault, Hir Uncle gently thus bespake: O ruler of the hault And swelling Seas, O noble Neptune whose dominion large Extendeth to the Heaven, whereof the mightie Jove hath charge, The thing is great for which I sue. But shewe thou for my sake Some mercie on my wretched friends whome in thine endlesse lake Thou seest tossed to and fro. Admit thou them among The Goddes. Of right even here to mee some favour doth belong At least wise if amid the Sea engendred erst I were Of Froth, as of the which yet still my pleasaunt name I beare. Neptunus graunted hir request, and by and by bereft them Of all that ever mortall was. Insted wherof he left them A hault and stately majestie: and altring them in hew With shape and names most meete for Goddes he did them both endew. Leucothoe was the mothers name, Palemon was the sonne. The Thebane Ladies following hir as fast as they could runne, Did of hir feete perceive the print upon the utter stone. And taking it for certaine signe that both were dead and gone, In making mone for Cadmus house, they wrang their hands and tare Their haire, and rent their clothes, and railde on Juno out of square, As nothing just, but more outragious farre than did behove In so revenging of hir selfe upon hir husbands love. The Goddesse Juno could not beare their railing. And in faith: You also will I make to be as witnesses (she sayth) Of my outragious crueltie. And so shee did in deede. For shee that loved Ino best was following hir with speede Into the Sea. But as shee would hir selfe have downeward cast, She could not stirre, but to the rock as nailed sticked fast. The second as shee knockt hir breast, did feele hir armes wax stiffe. Another as shee stretched out hir hands upon the cliffe, Was made a stone, and there stoode still ay stretching forth hir hands Into the water as before. And as an other standes A tearing of hir ruffled lockes, hir fingers hardened were And fastned to hir frisled toppe still tearing of hir heare, And looke what gesture eche of them was taken in that tide, Even in the same transformde to stones, they fastned did abide. And some were altered into birds which Cadmies called bee And in that goolfe with flittering wings still to and fro doe flee. Nought knoweth Cadmus that his daughter and hir little childe Admitted were among the Goddes that rule the surges wilde. Compellde with griefe and great mishappes that had ensewd togither, And straunge foretokens often seene since first his comming thither, He utterly forsakes his towne the which he builded had, As though the fortune of the place so hardly him bestad, And not his owne. And fleeting long like pilgrims, at the last Upon the coast of Illirie his wife and he were cast. Where ny forpind with cares and yeares, while of the chaunces past Upon their house, and of their toyles and former travails tane They sadly talkt betweene themselves: Was my speare head the bane Of that same ougly Snake of Mars (quoth Cadmus) when I fled From Sidon? or did I his teeth in ploughed pasture spred? If for the death of him the Goddes so cruell vengeaunce take, Drawen out in length upon my wombe then traile I like a snake. He had no sooner sayde the worde but that he gan to glide Upon his belly like a Snake. And on his hardened side He felt the scales new budding out, the which was wholy fret With speccled droppes of blacke and gray as thicke as could be set. He falleth groveling on his breast, and both his shankes doe growe In one round spindle Bodkinwise with sharpned point below. His armes as yet remayned still: his armes that did remayne, He stretched out, and sayde with teares that plentuously did raine Adowne his face, which yet did keepe the native fashion sownd: Come hither wyfe, come hither wight most wretched on the ground, And whyle that ought of mee remaynes vouchsafe to touche the same. Come take mee by the hand as long as hand may have his name, Before this snakish shape doe whole my body over runne. He would have spoken more when sodainely his tongue begunne To split in two and speache did fayle: and as he did attempt To make his mone, he hist: for nature now had cleane exempt All other speach. His wretched wyfe hir naked stomack beete And cryde: What meaneth this? deare Cadmus, where are now thy feete? Where are thy shoulders and thy handes? thy hew and manly face? With all the other things that did thy princely person grace Which nowe I overpasse? But why yee Goddes doe you delay My bodie into lyke misshape of Serpent to convay? When this was spoken, Cadmus lickt his wyfe about the lippes: And (as a place with which he was acquaynted well) he slippes Into hir boosome, lovingly embracing hir, and cast Himselfe about hir necke, as oft he had in tyme forepast. Such as were there (their folke were there) were flaighted at the sight, For by and by they sawe their neckes did glister slicke and bright. And on their snakish heades grew crests: and finally they both Were into verie Dragons tournd, and foorth together goth T'one trayling by the tothers side, untill they gaynd a wood, The which direct against the place where as they were then stood. And now remembring what they were themselves in tymes forepast, They neyther shonne nor hurten men with stinging nor with blast. But yet a comfort to them both in this their altred hew Became that noble impe of theirs that Indie did subdew, Whom al Achaia worshipped with temples builded new. All only Acrise, Abas sonne, (though of the selfesame stocke) Remaind, who out of Argos walles unkindly did him locke, And moved wilfull warre against his Godhead: thinking that There was not any race of Goddes, for he beleved not That Persey was the sonne of Jove: or that he was conceyved By Danae of golden shower through which shee was deceived. But yet ere long (such present force hath truth) he doth repent As well his great impietie against God Bacchus meant, As also that he did disdaine his Nephew for to knowe. But Bacchus now full gloriously himselfe in Heaven doth showe. And Persey bearing in his hand the monster Gorgons head, That famous spoyle which here and there with snakish haire was spread, Doth beat the ayre with wavyng wings. And as he overflew The Lybicke sandes, the droppes of bloud that from the head did sew Of Gorgon being new cut off, upon the ground did fal. Which taking them (and as it were conceyving therwithall) Engendred sundrie Snakes and wormes: by meanes wherof that clyme Did swarme with Serpents ever since, even to this present tyme. From thence he lyke a watrie cloud was caried with the weather, Through all the heaven, now here, now there as light as any feather. And from aloft he viewes the earth that underneath doth lie, And swiftly over all the worlde doth in conclusion flie, Three times the chilling Beares, three times the Crabbes fel cleas he saw: Oft times to Weast, oftimes to East did drive him many a flaw. Now at such time as unto rest the sonne began to drawe, Bicause he did not thinke it good to be abroad all night, Within King Atlas western Realme he ceased from his flight, Requesting that a little space of rest enjoy he might, Untill such tyme as Lucifer should bring the morning gray, And morning bring the lightsome Sunne that guides the cherefull day. This Atlas, Japets Nephewe, was a man that did excell In stature everie other wight that in the worlde did dwell. The utmost coast of all the earth and all that Sea wherein The tyred steedes and wearied Wayne of Phoebus dived bin, Were in subjection to this King. A thousande flockes of sheepe, A thousand heirdes of Rother beastes he in his fields did keepe: And not a neighbor did anoy his ground by dwelling nie. To him the wandring Persey thus his language did applie: If high renowne of royall race thy noble heart may move, I am the sonne of Jove himselfe: or if thou more approve The valiant deedes and hault exploytes, thou shalt perceive in mee Such doings as deserve with prayse extolled for to bee. I pray thee of thy courtesie receive mee as thy guest, And let mee only for this night within thy palace rest. King Atlas called straight to minde an auncient prophesie Made by Parnassian Themys, which this sentence did implie: The time shall one day, Atlas, come in which thy golden tree Shall of hir fayre and precious fruite dispoyld and robbed bee. And he shall be the sonne of Jove that shall enjoy the pray. For feare hereof he did enclose his Orchard everie way With mightie hilles, and put an ougly Dragon in the same To keepe it. Further he forbad that any straunger came Within his Realme, and to this knight he sayde presumtuouslie: Avoyd my land, onlesse thou wilt by utter perill trie That all thy glorious actes whereof thou doest so loudly lie And Jove thy father be too farre to helpe thee at thy neede. To these his wordes he added force, and went about in deede To drive him out by strength of hand. To speake was losse of winde For neyther could intreating faire nor stoutnesse tourne his minde. Well then (quoth Persey) sith thou doest mine honour set so light, Take here a present: and with that he turnes away his sight, And from his left side drewe mee out Medusas lothly head. As huge and big as Atlas was he tourned in that stead Into a mountaine: into trees his beard and locks did passe: His hands and shoulders made the ridge: that part which lately was His head, became the highest top of all the hill: his bones Were turnd to stones: and therewithall he grew mee all at once Beyond all measure up in heighth (for so God thought it best) So farre that Heaven with all the starres did on his shoulders rest. In endlesse prison by that time had Aeolus lockt the wind And now the cheerely morning starre that putteth folke in mind To rise about their daylie worke shone brightly in the skie. Then Persey unto both his feete did streight his feathers tie And girt his Woodknife to his side, and from the earth did stie. And leaving nations nomberlesse beneath him everie way At last upon King Cepheyes fields in Aethiop did he stay. Where cleane against all right and law by Joves commaundement Andromad for hir mothers tongue did suffer punishment. Whome to a rocke by both the armes when fastned hee had seene, He would have thought of Marble stone shee had some image beene, But that hir tresses to and fro the whisking winde did blowe, And trickling teares warme from hir eyes adowne hir cheeks did flow, Unwares hereat gan secret sparkes within his breast to glow. His wits were straught at sight thereof and ravisht in such wise, That how to hover with his wings he scarsly could devise. As soone as he had stayd himselfe: O Ladie faire (quoth hee) Not worthie of such bands as these, but such wherewith we see Togither knit in lawfull bed the earnest lovers bee, I pray thee tell mee what thy selfe and what this lande is named And wherefore thou dost weare these Chains. The Ladie ill ashamed Was at the sodaine striken domb: and lyke a fearfull maid Shee durst not speake unto a man. Had not hir handes beene staid She would have hid hir bashfull face. Howbeit as she might With great abundance of hir teares shee stopped up hir sight But when that Persey oftentimes was earnestly in hand To learne this matter, for bicause shee would not seeme to stand In stubborne silence of hir faultes, shee tolde him what the land And what she hight: and how hir mother for hir beauties sake Through pride did unadvisedly too much upon hir take. And ere shee full had made an ende, the water gan to rore: An ougly monster from the deepe was making to the shore Which bare the Sea before his breast. The Virgin shrieked out. Hir father and hir mother both stood mourning thereabout, In wretched ease both twaine, but not so wretched as the maid Who wrongly for hir mothers fault the bitter raunsome paid. They brought not with them any help: but (as the time and cace Requird) they wept and wrang their hands, and streightly did embrace Hir bodie fastened to the rock. Then Persey them bespake, And sayde: The time may serve too long this sorrow for to make: But time of helpe must eyther now or never else be take. Now if I, Persey, sonne of hir whome in hir fathers towre The mightie Jove begat with childe in shape of golden showre, Who cut off ougly Gorgons head bespred with snakish heare, And in the ayre durst trust these winges my body for to beare, perchaunce should save your daughters life, I think ye should as then Accept mee for your sonne in lawe before all other men. To these great thewes (by the help of God) I purpose for to adde A just desert in helping hir that is so hard bestadde. I covenaunt with you by my force and manhod for to save hir, Conditionly that to my wife in recompence I have hir. Hir parents tooke his offer streight: for who would sticke thereat? And praid him faire, and promisde him that for performing that They would endow him with the ryght of al their Realme beeside. Like as a Gally with hir nose doth cut the waters wide, Enforced by the sweating armes of Rowers wyth the tide Even so the monster with his brest did beare the waves aside, And was now come as neere the rocke as well a man myght fling Amid the pure and vacant aire a pellet from a sling. When on the sodaine Persey pusht his foote against the ground, And stied upward to the clouds his shadow did rebound Upon the sea: the beast ran fierce upon the passing shade. And as an Egle when he sees a Dragon in a glade Lie beaking of his blewish backe against the sunnie rayes, Doth seize upon him unbeware, and with his talants layes Sure holde upon his scalie necke lest writhing back his head His cruell teeth might doe him harme: so Persey in that stead Discending downe the ayre amaine with all his force and might Did seize upon the monsters backe: and underneath the right Finne hard unto the verie hilt his hooked sworde did smight. The monster being wounded sore did sometime leape aloft, And sometime under water dive, bestirring him full oft As doth a chaufed Boare beset with barking Dogges about. But Persey with his lightsome wings still keeping him without The monsters reach, with hooked sword doth sometime hew his back Where as the hollow scales give way: and sometime he doth hacke The ribbes on both his maled sides: and sometime he doth wound His spindle tayle where into fish it growes most smal and round. The Whale at Persey from his mouth such waves of water cast, Bemixed with the purple bloud, that all bedreint at last His feathers verie heavie were: and doubting any more To trust his wings now waxing wet, he straight began to sore Up to a rocke which in the calme above the water stood: But in the tempest evermore was hidden with the flood. And leaning thereunto and with his left hand holding just The top thereof a dozen times his weapon he did thrust Among his guttes. The joyfull noyse and clapping of their hands The which were made for loosening of Andromad from hir bands, Filde all the coast and heaven it selfe. The parents of the Maide Cassiope and Cepheus were glad and well appayde: And calling him their sonne in law confessed him to bee The helpe and savegarde of their house. Andromade the fee And cause of Perseys enterprise from bondes now beyng free, He washed his victorious hands. And lest the Snakie heade With lying on the gravell hard should catch some harme, he spred Soft leaves and certaine tender twigs that in the water grew, And laid Medusas head thereon: the twigs yet being new And quicke and full of juicie pith full lightly to them drew The nature of this monstrous head. For both the leafe and bough Full straungely at the touch thereof became both hard and tough. The Sea nymphes tride this wondrous fact in divers other roddes And were full glad to see the chaunge, bicause there was no oddes Of leaves or twigs or of the seedes new shaken from the coddes. For still like nature ever since is in our Corall founde: That looke how soone it toucheth Ayre it waxeth hard and sounde, And that which under water was a sticke, above is stone. Three altars to as many Gods he makes of Turfe anon: Upon the left hand Mercuries: Minervas on the right: And in the middle Jupiters: to Pallas he did dight A Cow: a Calfe to Mercurie: a Bull to royall Jove. Forthwith he tooke Andromade the price for which he strove Endowed with hir fathers Realme. For now the God of Love And Hymen unto mariage his minde in hast did move. Great fires were made of sweete perfumes, and curious garlandes hung About the house, which every where of mirthful musicke rung The gladsome signe of merie mindes. The Pallace gates were set Wide open. None from comming in were by the Porters let. All Noblemen and Gentlemen that were of any port To this same great and royall feast of Cephey did resort. When having taken their repast as well of meate as wine Their hearts began to pleasant mirth by leysure to encline, The valiant Persey of the folke and facions of the land Began to be inquisitive. One Lincide out of hand The rites and manners of the folke did doe him t'understand. Which done he sayd: O worthie knight I pray thee tell us by What force or wile thou gotst the head with haires of Adders slie. Then Persey tolde how underneath colde Atlas lay a plaine So fenced in on every side with mountaines high, that vaine Were any force to win the same. In entrance of the which Two daughters of King Phorcis dwelt whose chaunce and hap was such That one eye served both their turnes: whereof by wilie slight And stealth in putting forth his hand he did bereve them quight, As they from t'one to tother were delivering of the same. From whence by long blind crooked wayes unhandsomly he came Through gastly groves by ragged cliffes unto the drerie place Whereas the Gorgons dwelt: and there he saw (a wretched case) The shapes as well of men as beasts lie scattered everie where In open fields and common wayes, the which transformed were From living things to stones at sight of foule Medusas heare, But yet that he through brightnesse of his monstrous brazen shield The which he in his left hand bare, Medusas face beheld. And while that in a sound dead sleepe were all hir Snakes and she, He softly pared off hir head: and how that he did see Swift Pegasus the winged horse and eke his brother grow Out of their mothers new shed bloud. Moreover he did show A long discourse of all his happes and not so long as trew: As namely of what Seas and landes the coasts he overflew, And eke what starres with stying wings he in the while did vew. But yet his tale was at an ende ere any lookt therefore. Upon occasion by and by of wordes reherst before There was a certaine noble man demaunded him wherefore Shee only of the sisters three haire mixt with Adders bore. Sir (aunswerde Persey) sith you aske a matter worth report I graunt to tell you your demaunde. She both in comly port And beautie, every other wight surmounted in such sort, That many suters unto hir did earnestly resort. And though that whole from top to toe most bewtifull she were, In all hir bodie was no part more goodly than hir heare. I know some parties yet alive, that say they did hir see. It is reported how she should abusde by Neptune bee In Pallas Church: from which fowle facte Joves daughter turnde hir eye, And with hir Target hid hir face from such a villanie. And lest it should unpunisht be, she turnde hir seemely heare To lothly Snakes: the which (the more to put hir foes in feare) Before hir brest continually she in her shield doth beare. Now while that Danaes noble sonne was telling of these things Amid a throng of Cepheys Lordes, through al the Pallace rings A noyse of people nothing like the sound of such as sing At wedding feastes, but like the rore of such as tidings bring Of cruell warre. This sodaine chaunge from feasting unto fray Might well be likened to the Sea: whych standing at a stay The woodnesse of the windes makes rough by raising of the wave. King Cepheys brother Phyney was the man that rashly gave The first occasion of this fray. Who shaking in hys hand A Dart of Ash with head of steele, sayd: Loe: loe here I stand To chalenge thee that wrongfully my ravisht spouse doste holde. Thy wings nor yet thy forged Dad in shape of feyned golde Shall now not save thee from my handes. As with that word he bent His arme aloft, the foresaid Dart at Persey to have sent, What doste thou brother (Cephey cride) what madnesse moves thy minde To doe so foule a deede? is this the friendship he shall finde Among us for his good deserts? And wilt thou needes requite The saving of thy Neeces life with such a foule despight? Whome Persey hath not from thee tane: but (if thou be advisde) But Neptunes heavie wrath bicause his Sea nymphes were despisde: But horned Hammon: but the beast which from the Sea arrived On my deare bowels for to feede. That time wert thou deprived Of thy betroothed, when hir life upon the losing stoode: Onlesse perchaunce to see hir lost it woulde have done thee good, And easde thy heart to see me sad. And may it not suffice That thou didst see hir to the rocke fast bound before thine eyes And didst not helpe hir beyng both hir husband and hir Eame? Onlesse thou grudge that any man should come within my Realme To save hir life, and seeke to rob him of his just rewarde? Which if thou thinke to be so great, thou shouldst have had regarde Before, to fetch it from the rocke to which thou sawste it bound. I pray thee, brother, seeing that by him the meanes is found That in mine age without my childe I go not to the grounde, Permit him to enjoy the price for which we did compounde, And which he hath by due desert of purchace deerely bought. For brother, let it never sinke nor enter in thy thought That I set more by him than thee: but this may well be sed I rather had to give hir him than see my daughter dead. He gave him not a worde againe: but looked eft on him, And eft on Persey irefully with countnance stoure and grim, Not knowing which were best to hit: and after little stay He shooke his Dart, and flung it forth with all the powre and sway That Anger gave at Perseys head. But harme it did him none, It sticked in the Bedsteddes head that Persey sate upon. Then Persey sternely starting up and pulling out the Dart Did throw it at his foe agayne, and therewithall his hart Had cliven asunder, had he not behinde an Altar start. The Altar (more the pitie was) did save the wicked wight. Yet threw he not the Dart in vaine: it hit one Rhetus right Amid the foreheade: who therewith sanke downe, and when the steele Was plucked out, he sprawlde about and spurned with his heele, And all berayd the boorde with bloud. Then all the other rout As fierce as fire flang Dartes: and some there were that cried out That Cephey with his sonne in lawe was worthy for to die. But he had wound him out of doores protesting solemly As he was just and faithfull Prince, and swearing eke by all The Gods of Hospitalitie, that that same broyle did fall Full sore against his will. At hand was warlie Pallas streight And shadowed Persey with hir shielde, and gave him heart in feight. There was one Atys borne in Inde, (of faire Lymniace The River Ganges daughter thought the issue for to be), Of passing beautie which with rich aray he did augment. He ware that day a scarlet Cloke, about the which there went A garde of golde: a cheyne of golde he ware about his necke: And eke his haire perfumde with Myrrhe a costly crowne did decke. Full sixtene yeares he was of age: such cunning skill he coulde In darting, as to hit his marke farre distant when he would. Yet how to handle Bow and shaftes much better did he know. Now as he was about that time to bende his horned Bowe, A firebrand Persey raught that did upon the Aultar smoke, And dasht him overtwhart the face with such a violent stroke, That all bebattred was his head, the bones asunder broke. When Lycabas of Assur lande, his moste assured friend And deare companion, being no dissembler of his miend, Which most entierly did him love, behelde him on the ground Lie weltring with disfigurde face, and through that grievous wound Now gasping out his parting ghost, his death he did lament, And taking hastly up the Bow that Atys erst had bent: Encounter thou with me (he saide) thou shalt not long enjoy Thy triumphing in braverie thus, for killing of this boy, By which thou getst more spight than praise. All this was scarsly sed, But that the arrow from the string went streyned to the head. Howbeit Persey (as it hapt) so warely did it shunne, As that it in his coteplights hung. Then to him did he runne With Harpe in his hand bestaind with grim Medusas blood, And thrust him through the brest therwith. He quothing as he stood Did looke about where Atys lay with dim and dazeling eyes, Now waving under endlesse night: and downe by him he lies, And for to comfort him withall togither with him dies. Behold through gredie haste to feight one Phorbas, Methions son, A Swevite: and of Lybie lande one callde Amphimedon By fortune sliding in the blood with which the ground was wet, Fell downe: and as they woulde have rose, Perseus fauchon met With both of them. Amphimedon upon the ribbes he smote, And with the like celeritie he cut me Phorbas throte. But unto Erith, Actors sonne, that in his hand did holde A brode browne Bill, with his short sword he durst not be too bolde To make approch. With both his handes a great and massie cup Embost with cunning portrayture aloft he taketh up, And sendes it at him. He spewes up red bloud: and falling downe o Upon his backe, against the ground doth knocke his dying crowne. Then downe he Polydemon throwes, extract of royall race, And Abaris the Scithian, and Clytus in like case, And Elice with his unshorne lockes, and also Phlegias, And Lycet, olde Sperchesies sonne, with divers other mo, That on the heapes of corses slaine he treades as he doth go. And Phyney daring not presume to meet his foe at hand, Did cast a Dart: which hapt to light on Idas who did stand Aloofe as neuter (though in vaine) not medling with the Fray. Who casting backe a frowning looke at Phyney, thus did say: Sith whether that I will or no compeld I am perforce To take a part, have Phyney here him whome thou doste enforce To be thy foe, and with this wound my wrongfull wound requite. But as he from his body pullde the Dart, with all his might To throw it at his foe againe, his limmes so feebled were With losse of bloud, that downe he fell and could not after steare. There also lay Odites slaine the chiefe in all the land Next to King Cephey, put to death by force of Clymens hand. Protenor was by Hypsey killde, and Lyncide did as much For Hypsey. In the throng there was an auncient man and such A one as loved righteousnesse and greatly feared God: Emathion called was his name: whome sith his yeares forbad To put on armes, he feights with tongue, inveying earnestly Against that wicked war the which he banned bitterly. As on the Altar he himselfe with quivering handes did stay, One Cromis tipped off his head: his head cut off streight way Upon the Altar fell, and there his tongue not fully dead Did bable still the banning wordes the which it erst had sed, And breathed forth his fainting ghost among the burning brandes. Then Brote and Hammon brothers, twins, stout champions of their hands In wrestling Pierlesse (if so be that wrestling could sustaine The furious force of slicing swordes) were both by Phyney slaine. And so was Alphit, Ceres Priest, that ware upon his crowne A stately Miter faire and white with Tables hanging downe. Thou also Japets sonne for such affaires as these unmeete But meete to tune thine instrument with voyce and Ditie sweete, The worke of peace, wert thither callde th'assemblie to rejoyce And for to set the mariage forth with pleasant singing voyce. As with his Violl in his hand he stoode a good way off, There commeth to him Petalus and sayes in way of scoffe: Go sing the resdue to the ghostes about the Stygian Lake, And in the left side of his heade his dagger poynt he strake. He sanke downe deade with fingers still yet warbling on the string And so mischaunce knit up with wo the song that he did sing. But fierce Lycormas could not beare to see him murdred so Without revengement. Up he caught a mightie Leaver tho That wonted was to barre the doore a right side of the house And therewithall to Petalus he lendeth such a souse Full in the noddle of the necke, that like a snetched Oxe Streight tumbling downe, against the ground his groveling face he knox. And Pelates, a Garamant, attempted to have caught The left doore barre: but as thereat with stretched hand he raught, One Coryt, sonne of Marmarus did with a Javelin stricke Him through the hand, that to the wood fast nayled did it sticke. As Pelates stoode fastned thus, one Abas goard his side: He could not fall, but hanging still upon the poste there dide Fast nayled by the hand. And there was overthrowne a Knight Of Perseyes band callde Melaney, and one that Dorill hight, A man of greatest landes in all the Realme of Nasamone. That occupide so large a grounde as Dorill was there none, ' Nor none that had such store of come. There came a Dart askew And lighted in his Coddes, the place where present death doth sew. When Alcion of Barcey, he that gave this deadly wound, Beheld him yesking forth his ghost and falling to the ground With watrie eyes the white turnde up: Content thy selfe, he said, With that same litle plot of grounde whereon thy corse is layde, In steade of all the large fat fieldes which late thou didst possesse. And with that word he left him dead. Perseus to redresse This slaughter and this spightfull taunt, streight snatched out the Dart That sticked in the fresh warme wound, and with an angrie hart Did send it at the throwers head: the Dart did split his nose Even in the middes, and at his necke againe the head out goes: So that it peered both the wayes. Whiles fortune doth support And further Persey thus, he killes (but yet in sundrie sort) Two brothers by the mother: t'one callde Clytie, tother Dane. For on a Dart through both his thighes did Clytie take his bane: And Danus with another Dart was striken in the mouth. There died also Celadon, a Gypsie of the South: And so did bastard Astrey too, whose mother was a Jew: And sage Ethion well foreseene in things that should ensew, But utterly beguilde as then by Birdes that aukly flew. King Cepheyes harnessebearer callde Thoactes lost his life, And Agyrt whom for murdring late his father with a knife The worlde spake shame of. Nathelesse much more remainde behinde Than was dispatched out of hand: for all were full in minde To murder one. The wicked throng had sworne to spend their blood Against the right, and such a man as had deserved good. A tother side (although in vaine) of mere affection stood The Father and the Motherinlaw, and eke the heavie bride, Who filled with their piteous playnt the Court on everie side. But now the clattring of the swordes and harnesse at that tide With grievous grones and sighes of such as wounded were or dide, Did raise up such a cruell rore that nothing could be heard. For fierce Bellona so renewde the battell afterward, That all the house did swim in blood. Duke Phyney with a rout Of moe than of a thousand men environd round about The valiant Persey all alone. The Dartes of Phyneys bande Came thicker than the Winters hayle doth fall upon the lande, By both his sides, his eyes and eares. He warely thereupon Withdrawes, and leanes his backe against a huge great arche of stone: And being safe behind, he settes his face against his foe Withstanding all their fierce assaultes. There did assaile him thoe Upon the left side Molpheus, a Prince of Choanie. And on the right Ethemon, borne hard by in Arabie. Like as the Tyger when he heares the lowing out of Neate In sundrie Medes, enforced sore through abstinence from meate, Would faine be doing with them both, and can not tell at which Were best to give adventure first: so Persey who did itch To be at host with both of them, and doubtfull whether side To turne him on, the right or left, upon advantage spide Did wound me Molphey on the leg, and from him quight him drave. He was contented with his flight: for why Ethemon gave No respite to him to pursue: but like a franticke man Through egernesse to wounde his necke, without regarding whan Or how to strike for haste, he burst his brittle sworde in twaine Against the Arche: the poynt whereof rebounding backe againe, Did hit himselfe upon the throte. Howbeit that same wound Was unsufficient for to sende Ethemon to the ground. He trembled holding up his handes for mercie, but in vaine, For Persey thrust him through the heart with Hermes hooked skaine. But when he saw that valiantnesse no lenger could avayle, By reason of the multitude that did him still assayle: Sith you your selves me force to call mine enmie to mine ayde, I will do so: if any friend of mine be here (he sayd) Sirs, turne your faces all away: and therewithall he drew Out Gorgons head. One Thessalus streight raging to him flew, And sayd: Go seeke some other man whome thou mayst make abasht With these thy foolish juggling toyes. And as he would have dasht His Javeling in him with that worde to kill him out of hand, With gesture throwing forth his Dart all Marble did he stand. His sworde through Lyncids noble heart had Amphix thought to shove: His hand was stone, and neyther one nor other way could move: But Niley who did vaunt himselfe to be the Rivers sonne That through the boundes of Aegypt land in channels seven doth runne, And in his shielde had graven part of silver, part of golde The said seven channels of the Nile, sayd: Persey here beholde From whence we fetch our piedegree: it may rejoyce thy hart To die of such a noble hand as mine. The latter part Of these his words could scarce be heard: the dint therof was drownde: Ye would have thought him speaking still with open mouth: but sound Did none forth passe: there was for speache no passage to be found. Rebuking them cries Eryx: Sirs, it is not Gorgons face, It is your owne faint heartes that make you stonie in this case. Come let us on this fellow run and to the ground him beare That feightes by witchcraft: as with that his feete forth stepping were, They stacke still fastened to the floore: he could not move aside, An armed image all of stone he speachlesse did abide. All these were justly punished. But one there was a knight Of Perseys band, in whose defence as Acont stoode to feight, He waxed overgrowne with stone at ugly Gorgons sight. Whome still as yet Astyages supposing for to live, Did with a long sharpe arming sworde a washing blow him give. The sword did clinke against the stone and out the sparcles drive. While all amazde Astyages stoode wondring at the thing, The selfesame nature on himselfe the Gorgons head did bring. And in his visage which was stone a countnance did remaine Of wondring still. A wearie worke it were to tell you plaine The names of all the common sort. Two hundred from that fray Did scape unslaine: but none of them did go alive away. The whole two hundred every one at sight of Gorgons heare Were turned into stockes of stone. Then at the length for feare Did Phyney of his wrongfull war forthinke himselfe full sore. But now (alas) what remedie? he saw there stand before His face, his men like Images in sundrie shapes all stone. He knew them well, and by their names did call them everychone: Desiring them to succor him: and trusting not his sight He feeles the bodies that were next, and all were Marble quight. He turnes himselfe from Persey ward and humbly as he standes He wries his armes behind his backe: and holding up his handes, O noble Persey, thou hast got the upper hand, he sed. Put up that monstruous shield of thine: put up that Gorgons head That into stones transformeth men: put up, I thee desire. Not hatred, nor bicause to reigne as King I did aspire, Have moved me to make this fray. The only force of love In seeking my betrothed spouse, did hereunto me move. The better title seemeth thine bicause of thy desert: And mine by former promise made. It irkes me at the heart In that I did not give the place. None other thing I crave O worthie knight, but that thou graunt this life of mine to save. Let all things else beside be thine. As he thus humbly spake Nor daring looke at him to whome he did entreatance make, The thing (quoth Persey) which to graunt both I can finde in heart, And is no little courtesie to shewe without desert Upon a Coward, I will graunt, O fearfull Duke, to thee. Set feare aside: thou shalt not hurt with any weapon bee. I will moreover so provide as thai thou shalt remaine An everlasting monument of this dayes toyle and paine. The pallace of my Fathrinlaw shall henceforth be thy shrine Where thou shalt stand continually before my spouses eyen, That of hir husband having ay the Image in hir sight, She may from time to time receyve some comfort and delight. He had no sooner sayd these wordes but that he turnde his shielde With Gorgons heade to that same part where Phyney with a mielde And fearfull countnance set his face. Then also as he wride His eyes away, his necke waxt stiffe, his teares to stone were dride. A countnance in the stonie stocke of feare did still appeare With humble looke and yeelding handes and gastly ruthfull cheare. With conquest and a noble wife doth Persey home repaire And in revengement of the right against the wrongfull heyre, As in his Graundsires just defence, he falles in hand with Prete Who like no brother but a foe did late before defeate King Acrise of his townes by warre and of his royall seate. But neyther could his men of warre nor fortresse won by wrong Defend him from the griesly looke of grim Medusa long. And yet thee, foolish Polydect of little Seriph King, Such rooted rancor inwardly continually did sting, That neyther Perseys prowesse tride in such a sort of broyles Nor yet the perils he endurde, nor all his troublous toyles Could cause thy stomacke to relent. Within thy stonie brest Workes such a kinde of festred hate as cannot be represt. Thy wrongfull malice hath none ende. Moreover thou of spite Repining at his worthy praise, his doings doste backbite: Upholding that Medusas death was but a forged lie: So long till Persey for to shewe the truth apparantly, Desiring such as were his friendes to turne away their eye, Drue out Medusas ougly head. At sight whereof anon The hatefull Tyran Polydect was turned to a stone. The Goddesse Pallas all this while did keepe continually Hir brother Persey companie, till now that she did stie From Seriph in a hollow cloud, and leaving on the right The Iles of Scyre and Gyaros, she made from thence hir flight Directly over that same Sea as neare as eye could ame To Thebe and Mount Helicon, and when she thither came, She stayde hir selfe, and thus bespake the learned sisters nine: A rumor of an uncouth spring did pierce these eares of mine The which the winged stede shouldmake by stamping with his hoofe. This is the cause of my repaire: I would for certaine proofe Be glad to see the wondrous thing. For present there I stoode And saw the selfesame Pegasus spring of his mothers blood. Dame Uranie did entertaine and aunswere Pallas thus: What cause so ever moves your grace to come and visit us, Most heartely you welcome are: and certaine is the fame Of this our Spring, that Pegasus was causer of the same. And with that worde she led hir forth to see the sacred spring. Who musing greatly with hir selfe at straungenesse of the thing, Surveyde the Woodes and groves about of auncient stately port. And when she saw the Bowres to which the Muses did resort, And pleasant fields beclad with herbes of sundrie hew and sort, She said that for their studies sake they were in happie cace And also that to serve their turne they had so trim a place. Then one of them replied thus: O noble Ladie who (But that your vertue greater workes than these are calles you to) Should else have bene of this our troupe, your saying is full true. To this our trade of life and place is commendation due. And sure we have a luckie lot and if the world were such As that we might in safetie live, but lewdnesse reignes so much That all things make us Maides afraide. Me thinkes I yet do see The wicked Tyran Pyren still: my heart is yet scarce free From that same feare with which it hapt us flighted for to bee. This cruell Pyren was of Thrace and with his men of war The land of Phocis had subdude, and from this place not far Within the Citie Dawlis reignde by force of wrongfull hand, One day to Phebus Temples warde that on Parnasus stand As we were going, in our way he met us courteously, And by the name of Goddesses saluting reverently Said: O ye Dames of Meonie (for why he knew us well) I pray you stay and take my hou.e untill this storme (there fell That time a tempest and a showre) be past: the Gods aloft Have entred smaller sheddes than mine full many a time and oft. The rainie wether and hys wordes so moved us, that wee To go into an outer house of his did all agree. As soone as that the showre was past and heaven was voyded cleare Of all the Cloudes which late before did every where appeare, Until that Boreas had subdude the rainie Southerne winde, We woulde have by and by bene gone. He shet the doores in minde To ravish us: but we with wings escaped from his hands. He purposing to follow us, upon a Turret stands, And sayth he needes will after us the same way we did flie. And with that worde full frantickly he leapeth downe from hie, And pitching evelong on his face the bones asunder crasht, And dying, all abrode the ground his wicked bloud bedasht. Now as the Muse was telling this, they heard a noyse of wings And from the leavie boughes aloft a sound of greeting rings. Minerva looking up thereat demaunded whence the sounde Of tongues that so distinctly spake did come so plaine and rounde? She thought some woman or some man had greeted hir that stounde. It was a flight of Birdes. Nyne Pies bewailing their mischaunce In counterfetting everie thing from bough to bough did daunce. As Pallas wondred at the sight, the Muse spake thus in summe: These also being late ago in chalenge overcome, Made one kinde more of Birdes than was of auncient time beforne. In Macedone they were about the Citie Pella borne Of Pierus, a great riche Chuffe, and Euip, who by ayde Of strong Lucina travailing nine times, nine times was laide Of daughters in hir childbed safe. This fond and foolish rout Of doltish sisters taking pride and waxing verie stout, Bicause they were in number nine came flocking all togither Through all the townes of Thessalie and all Achaia hither, And us with these or such like wordes to combate did provoke. Cease off, ye Thespian Goddesses, to mocke the simple folke With fondnesse of your Melodie. And if ye thinke in deede Ye can doe ought, contend with us and see how you shall speede. I warrant you ye passe us not in cunning nor in voyce. Ye are here nine, and so are we. We put you to the choyce, That eyther we will vanquish you and set you quight beside Your fountaine made by Pegasus which is your chiefest pride, And Aganippe too: or else confounde you us, and we Of all the woods of Macedone will dispossessed be As farre as snowie Peonie: and let the Nymphes be Judges. Now in good sooth it was a shame to cope with suchie Drudges, But yet more shame it was to yeeld. The chosen Nymphes did sweare By Styx, and sate them downe on seates of stone that growed there. Then streight without commission or election of the rest, The formost of them preasing forth undecently, profest The chalenge to performe: and song the battels of the Goddes. She gave the Giants all the praise, the honor and the oddes, Abasing sore the worthie deedes of all the Gods. She telles How Typhon issuing from the earth and from the deepest helles, Made all the Gods above afraide, so greatly that they fled And never staide till Aegypt land and Nile whose streame is shed In channels seven, received them forwearied all togither: And how the Helhound Typhon did pursue them also thither. By meanes wherof the Gods eche one were faine themselves to hide In forged shapes. She saide that Jove the Prince of Gods was wride In shape of Ram: which is the cause that at this present tide Joves ymage which the Lybian folke by name of Hammon serve, Is made with crooked welked homes that inward still doe terve: That Phebus in a Raven lurkt, and Bacchus in a Geate, And Phebus sister in a Cat, and Juno in a Neate, And Venus in the shape of Fish, and how that last of all Mercurius hid him in a Bird which Ibis men doe call. This was the summe of all the tale which she with rolling tung And yelling throteboll to hir harpe before us rudely sung. Our turne is also come to speake, but that perchaunce your grace To give the hearing to our song hath now no time nor space. Yes yes (quoth Pallas) tell on forth in order all your tale: And downe she sate among the trees which gave a pleasant swale. The Muse made aunswere thus: To one Calliope here by name This chalenge we committed have and ordring of the same. Then rose up faire Calliope with goodly bush of heare Trim wreathed up with yvie leaves, and with hir thumbe gan steare The quivering strings, to trie them if they were in tune or no. Which done, she playde upon hir Lute and song hir Ditie so: Dame Ceres first to breake the Earth with plough the maner found, She first made come and stover soft to grow upon the ground, She first made lawes: for all these things we are to Ceres bound. Of hir must I as now intreate: would God I could resound Hir worthie laude: she doubtlesse is a Goddesse worthie praise. Bicause the Giant Typhon gave presumptuously assayes To conquer Heaven, the howgie Ile of Trinacris is layd Upon his limmes, by weight whereof perforce he downe is weyde. He strives and strugles for to rise full many a time and oft. But on his right hand toward Rome Pelorus standes aloft: Pachynnus standes upon his left: his legs with Lilybie Are pressed downe: his monstrous head doth under Aetna lie. From whence he lying bolt upright with wrathfull mouth doth spit Out flames of fire. He wrestleth oft and walloweth for to wit And if he can remove the weight of all that mightie land Or tumble downe the townes and hilles that on his bodie stand. By meanes whereof it commes to passe that oft the Earth doth shake: And even the King of Ghostes himselfe for verie feare doth quake, Misdoubting lest the Earth should clive so wide that light of day Might by the same pierce downe to Hell and there the Ghostes affray. Forecasting this, the Prince of Fiendes forsooke his darksome hole, And in a Chariot drawen with Steedes as blacke as any cole The whole foundation of the Ile of Sicill warely vewde. When throughly he had sercht eche place that harme had none ensewde, As carelessly he raungde abrode, he chaunced to be seene Of Venus sitting on hir hill: who taking streight betweene Hir armes hir winged Cupid, said: My sonne, mine only stay, My hand, mine honor and my might, go take without delay Those tooles which all wightes do subdue, and strike them in the hart Of that same God that of the world enjoyes the lowest part. The Gods of Heaven, and Jove himselfe, the powre of Sea and Land And he that rules the powres on Earth obey thy mightie hand: And wherefore then should only Hell still unsubdued stand? Thy mothers Empire and thine own why doste thou not advaunce? The third part of al the world now hangs in doubtful chaunce. And yet in heaven too now, their deedes thou seest me faine to beare. We are despisde: the strength of love with me away doth weare. Seeste not the Darter Diane and dame Pallas have already Exempted them from my behestes? and now of late so heady Is Ceres daughter too, that if we let hir have hir will, She will continue all hir life a Maid unwedded still. For that is all hir hope, and marke whereat she mindes to shoote. But thou (if ought this gracious turne our honor may promote, Or ought our Empire beautifie which joyntly we doe holde,) This Damsell to hir uncle joyne. No sooner had she tolde These wordes, but Cupid opening streight his quiver chose therefro One arrow (as his mother bade) among a thousand mo. But such a one it was, as none more sharper was than it, Nor none went streighter from the Bow the amed marke to hit. He set his knee against his Bow and bent it out of hande, And made his forked arrowes steale in Plutos heart to stande. Neare Enna walles there standes a Lake: Pergusa is the name. Cayster heareth not mo songs of Swannes than doth the same. A wood environs everie side the water round about, And with his leaves as with a veyle doth keepe the Sunne heate out. The boughes doe yeelde a coole fresh Ayre: the moystnesse of the grounde Yeeldes sundrie flowres: continuall spring is all the yeare there founde. While in this garden Proserpine was taking hir pastime, In gathering eyther Violets blew, or Lillies white as Lime, And while of Maidenly desire she fillde hir Maund and Lap, Endevoring to outgather hir companions there, by hap Dis spide hir: lovde hir: caught hir up: and all at once well nere, So hastie, hote, and swift a thing is Love as may appeare. The Ladie with a wailing voyce afright did often call Hir Mother and hir waiting Maides, but Mother most of all. And as she from the upper part hir garment would have rent, By chaunce she let hir lap slip downe, and out hir flowres went. And such a sillie simplenesse hir childish age yet beares, That even the verie losse of them did move hir more to teares. The Catcher drives his Chariot forth, and calling every horse By name, to make away apace he doth them still enforce: And shakes about their neckes and Manes their rustie bridle reynes And through the deepest of the Lake perforce he them constreynes. And through the Palik pooles, the which from broken ground doe boyle And smell of Brimstone verie ranke: and also by the soyle Where as the Bacchies, folke of Corinth with the double Seas, Betweene unequall Havons twaine did reere a towne for ease. Betweene the fountaines of Cyane and Arethuse of Pise An arme of Sea that meetes enclosde with narrow homes there lies. Of this the Poole callde Cyane which beareth greatest fame Among the Nymphes of Sicilie did algates take the name. Who vauncing hir unto the waste amid hir Poole did know Dame Proserpine, and said to Dis: Ye shall no further go: You cannot Ceres sonneinlawe be, will she so or no. You should have sought hir courteously and not enforst hir so. And if I may with great estates my simple things compare, Anapus was in love with me: but yet he did not fare As you doe now with Proserpine. He was content to woo And I unforst and unconstreind consented him untoo. This said, she spreaded forth hir armes and stopt him of his way. His hastie wrath Saturnus sonne no lenger then could stay. But chearing up his dreadfull Steedes did smight his royall mace With violence in the bottome of the Poole in that same place. The ground streight yeelded to his stroke and made him way to Hell, And downe the open gap both horse and Chariot headlong fell. Dame Cyan taking sore to heart as well the ravishment Of Proserpine against hir will, as also the contempt Against hir fountaines priviledge, did shrowde in secret hart An inward corsie comfortlesse, which never did depart Untill she melting into teares consumde away with smart. The selfesame waters of the which she was but late ago The mighty Goddesse, now she pines and wastes hirselfe into. Ye might have seene hir limmes wex lithe, ye might have bent hir bones. Hir nayles wext soft: and first of all did melt the smallest ones: As haire and fingars, legges and feete: for these same slender parts Doe quickly into water turne, and afterward converts To water, shoulder, backe, brest, side: and finally in stead Of lively bloud, within hir veynes corrupted there was spred Thinne water: so that nothing now remained whereupon Ye might take holde, to water all consumed was anon. The carefull mother in the while did seeke hir daughter deare Through all the world both Sea and Land, and yet was nere the neare. The Morning with hir deawy haire hir slugging never found, Nor yet the Evening star that brings the night upon the ground. Two seasoned Pynetrees at the mount of Aetna did she light And bare them restlesse in hir handes through all the dankish night. Againe as soone as chierfull day did dim the starres, she sought Hir daughter still from East to West. And being overwrought She caught a thirst: no liquor yet had come within hir throte. By chaunce she spied nere at hand a pelting thatched Cote Wyth peevish doores: she knockt thereat, and out there commes a trot. The Goddesse asked hir some drinke and she denide it not: But out she brought hir by and by a draught of merrie go downe And therewithall a Hotchpotch made of steeped Barlie browne And Flaxe and Coriander seede and other simples more The which she in an Earthen pot together sod before. While Ceres was a eating this, before hir gazing stood A hard faaste boy, a shrewde pert wag, that could no maners good: He laughed at hir and in scorne did call hir greedie gut. The Goddesse being wroth therewith, did on the Hotchpotch put The liquor ere that all was eate, and in his face it threw. Immediatly the skinne thereof became of speckled hew, And into legs his armes did turne: and in his altred hide A wrigling tayle streight to his limmes was added more beside. And to th'intent he should not have much powre to worken scathe, His bodie in a little roume togither knit she hathe. For as with pretie Lucerts he in facion doth agree: So than the Lucert somewhat lesse in every poynt is he. The poore old woman was amazde: and bitterly she wept: She durst not touche the uncouth worme, who into corners crept. And of the flecked spottes like starres that on his hide are set A name agreeing thereunto in Latine doth he get. It is our Swift whose skinne with gray and yellow specks is fret. What Lands and Seas the Goddesse sought it were too long to saine. The worlde did want. And so she went to Sicill backe againe. And as in going every where she serched busily, She also came to Cyane: who would assuredly Have tolde hir all things, had she not transformed bene before. But mouth and tongue for uttrance now would serve hir turne no more. Howbeit a token manifest she gave hir for to know What was become of Proserpine. Her girdle she did show Still hovering on hir holie poole, which slightly from hir fell As she that way did passe: and that hir mother knew too well. For when she saw it, by and by as though she had but than Bene new advertisde of hir chaunce, she piteously began To rend hir ruffled haire, and beate hir handes against hir brest. As yet she knew not where she was. But yet with rage opprest, She curst all landes, and said they were unthankfull everychone, Yea and unworthy of the fruites bestowed them upon. But bitterly above the rest she banned Sicilie, In which the mention of hir losse she plainely did espie. And therefore there with cruell hand the earing ploughes she brake, And man and beast that tilde the grounde to death in anger strake. She marrde the seede, and eke forbade the fieldes to yeelde their frute. The plenteousnesse of that same lie of which there went suche bruit Through all the world, lay dead: the come was killed in the blade: Now too much drought, now too much wet did make it for to fade. The starres and blasting windes did hurt, the hungry foules did eate The come in ground: the Tines and Briars did overgow the Wheate. And other wicked weedes the corne continually annoy, Which neyther tylth nor toyle of man was able to destroy. Then Arethuse, floud Alpheys love, lifts from hir Elean waves Hir head, and shedding to hir eares hir deawy haire that waves About hir foreheade sayde: O thou that art the mother deare Both of the Maiden sought through all the world both far and neare, And eke of all the earthly fruites, forbeare thine endlesse toyle, And be not wroth without a cause with this thy faithfull soyle: The Lande deserves no punishment. Unwillingly, God wote, She opened to the Ravisher that violently hir smote. It is not sure my native soyle for which I thus entreate. I am but here a sojourner, my native soyle and seate Is Pisa and from Ely towne I fetch my first discent. I dwell but as a straunger here: but sure to my intent This Countrie likes me better farre than any other land. Here now I Arethusa dwell: here am I setled: and I humbly you beseche extend your favour to the same. A time will one day come when you to mirth may better frame, And have your heart more free from care, which better serve me may To tell you why I from my place so great a space doe stray, And unto Ortygie am brought through so great Seas and waves. The ground doth give me passage free, and by the lowest caves Of all the Earth I make my way, and here I raise my heade, And looke upon the starres agayne neare out of knowledge fled. Now while I underneath the Earth the Lake of Styx did passe, I saw your daughter Proserpine with these same eyes. She was Not merrie, neyther rid of feare as seemed by hir cheere. But yet a Queene, but yet of great God Dis the stately Feere: But yet of that same droupie Realme the chiefe and sovereigne Peere. Hir mother stoode as starke as stone, when she these newes did heare, And long she was like one that in another worlde had beene. But when hir great amazednesse by greatnesse of hir teene Was put aside, she gettes hir to hir Chariot by and by And up to heaven in all post haste immediately doth stie. And there beslowbred all hir face: hir haire about hir eares, To royall Jove in way of plaint this spightfull tale she beares: As well for thy bloud as for mine a suter unto thee I hither come. If no regard may of the mother bee Yet let the childe hir father move, and have not lesser care Of hir (I pray) bicause that I hir in my bodie bare. Behold our daughter whome I sought so long is found at last: If finding you it terme, when of recoverie meanes is past. Or if you finding do it call to have a knowledge where She is become. Hir ravishment we might consent to beare, So restitution might be made. And though there were to me No interest in hir at all, yet forasmuche as she Is yours, it is unmeete she be bestowde upon a theefe. Jove aunswerde thus: My daughter is a Jewell deare and leefe: A collup of mine owne flesh cut as well as out of thine. But if we in our heartes can finde things rightly to define, This is not spight but love. And yet Madame in faith I see No cause of such a sonne in law ashamed for to bee, So you contented were therewith. For put the case that hee Were destitute of all things else, how greate a matter ist Joves brother for to be? but sure in him is nothing mist. Nor he inferior is to me save only that by lot The Heavens to me, the Helles to him the destnies did allot. But if you have so sore desire your daughter to divorce, Though she againe to Heaven repayre I doe not greatly force. But yet conditionly that she have tasted there no foode: For so the destnies have decreed. He ceaste: and Ceres stoode Full bent to fetch hir daughter out: but destnies hir withstoode, Bicause the Maide had broke hir fast. For as she hapt one day In Plutos Ortyard rechlessely from place to place to stray, She gathering from a bowing tree a ripe Pownegarnet, tooke Seven kernels out and sucked them. None chaunst hereon to looke, Save onely one Ascalaphus whome Orphne, erst a Dame Among the other Elves of Hell not of the basest fame, Bare to hir husbande Acheron within hir duskie den. He sawe it, and by blabbing it ungraciously as then, Did let hir from returning thence. A grievous sigh the Queene Of Hell did fetch, and of that wight that had a witnesse beene Against hir made a cursed Birde. Upon his face she shead The water of the Phlegeton: and by and by his head Was nothing else but Beake and Downe, and mightie glaring eyes. Quight altred from himselfe betweene two yellow wings he flies. He groweth chiefly into head and hooked talants long And much adoe he hath to flaske his lazie wings among. The messenger of Morning was he made, a filthie fowle, A signe of mischiefe unto men, the sluggish skreching Owle. This person for his lavish tongue and telling tales might seeme To have deserved punishment. But what should men esteeme To be the verie cause why you, Acheloes daughters, weare Both feete and feathers like to Birdes, considering that you beare The upper partes of Maidens still? And commes it so to passe Bicause when Ladie Proserpine a gathering flowers was, Ye Meremaides kept hir companie? Whome after you had sought Through all the Earth in vaine, anon of purpose that your thought Might also to the Seas be knowen, ye wished that ye might Upon the waves with hovering wings at pleasure rule your flight, And had the Goddes to your request so pliant, that ye found With yellow feathers out of hand your bodies clothed round: Yet lest that pleasant tune of yours ordeyned to delight The hearing, and so high a gift of Musicke perish might For want of uttrance, humaine voyce to utter things at will And countnance of virginitie remained to you still. But meane betweene his brother and his heavie sister goth God Jove, and parteth equally the yeare betweene them both. And now the Goddesse Proserpine indifferently doth reigne Above and underneath the Earth, and so doth she remaine One halfe yeare with hir mother and the resdue with hir Feere. Immediatly she altred is as well in outwarde cheere As inwarde minde. For where hir looke might late before appeere Sad even to Dis, hir countnance now is full of mirth and grace Even like as Phebus having put the watrie cloudes to chace, Doth shew himselfe a Conqueror with bright and shining face. Then fruitfull Ceres voide of care in that she did recover Hir daughter, prayde thee, Arethuse, the storie to discover, What caused thee to fleete so farre and wherefore thou became A sacred spring? The waters whist. The Goddesse of the same Did from the bottome of the Well hir goodly head up reare. And having dried with hir hand hir faire greene hanging heare, The River Alpheys auncient loves she thus began to tell. I was (quoth she) a Nymph of them that in Achaia dwell. There was not one that earnester the Lawndes and forests sought Or pitcht hir toyles more handsomly. And though that of my thought It was no part, to seeke the fame of beautie: though I were All courage: yet the pricke and prise of beautie I did beare. My overmuch commended face was unto me a spight. This gift of bodie in the which another would delight, I, rudesbye, was ashamed of: me thought it was a crime To be belikte. I beare it well in minde that on a time In comming wearie from the chase of Stymphalus, the heate Was fervent, and my traveling had made it twice as great. I founde a water neyther deepe nor shallow which did glide Without all noyse, so calme that scarce the moving might be spide. And throughly to the very ground it was so crispe and cleare, That every little stone therein did plaine aloft appeare. The horie Sallowes and the Poplars growing on the brim Unset, upon the shoring bankes did cast a shadow trim. I entred in, and first of all I deeped but my feete: And after to my knees. And not content to wade so fleete, I put off all my clothes, and hung them on a Sallow by And threw my selfe amid the streame, which as I dallyingly Did beate and draw, and with my selfe a thousand maistries trie, In casting of mine armes abrode and swimming wantonly: I felt a bubling in the streame I wist not how nor what, And on the Rivers nearest brim I stept for feare. With that, O Arethusa, whither runst? and whither runst thou, cride Floud Alphey from his waves againe with hollow voyce. I hide Away unclothed as I was. For on the further side My clothes hung still. So much more hote and eger then was he, And for I naked was, I seemde the readier for to be. My running and his fierce pursuite was like as when ye se The sillie Doves with quivering wings before the Gossehauke stie, The Gossehauke sweeping after them as fast as he can flie. To Orchomen, and Psophy land, and Cyllen I did holde Out well, and thence to Menalus and Erymanth the colde, And so to Ely. All this way no ground of me he wonne. But being not so strong as he, this restlesse race to runne I could not long endure, and he could hold it out at length. Yet over plaines and wooddie hilles (as long as lasted strength) And stones, and rockes, and desert groundes I still maintaind my race. The Sunne was full upon my backe. I saw before my face A lazie shadow: were it not that feare did make me see't. But certenly he feared me with trampling of his feete: And of his mouth the boystous breath upon my hairlace blew. Forwearied with the toyle of flight: Helpe, Diane, I thy true And trustie Squire (I said) who oft have caried after thee Thy bow and arrowes, now am like attached for to bee. The Goddesse moved, tooke a cloude of such as scattred were And cast upon me. Hidden thus in mistie darkenesse there The River poard upon me still and hunted round about The hollow cloude, for feare perchaunce I should have scaped out. And twice not knowing what to doe he stalkt about the cloude Where Diane had me hid, and twice he called out aloude: Hoe Arethuse, hoe Arethuse. What heart had I poore wretch then? Even such as hath the sillie Lambe that dares not stirre nor quetch when He heares the howling of the Wolfe about or neare the foldes, Or such as hath the squatted Hare that in hir foorme beholdes The hunting houndes on every side, and dares not move a whit, He would not thence, for why he saw no footing out as yit. And therefore watcht he narrowly the cloud and eke the place. A chill colde sweat my sieged limmes opprest, and downe apace From all my bodie steaming drops did fall of watrie hew. Which way so ere I stird my foote the place was like a stew. The deaw ran trickling from my haire. In halfe the while I then Was turnde to water, that I now have tolde the tale agen. His loved waters Alphey knew, and putting off the shape Of man the which he tooke before bicause I should not scape, Returned to his proper shape of water by and by Of purpose for to joyne with me and have my companie. But Delia brake the ground, at which I sinking into blinde Bycorners, up againe my selfe at Ortigie doe winde, Right deare to me bicause it doth Dianas surname beare, And for bicause to light againe I first was raysed there. Thus far did Arethusa speake: and then the fruitfull Dame Two Dragons to hir Chariot put, and reyning hard the same, Midway beweene the Heaven and Earth she in the Ayer went, And unto Prince Triptolemus hir lightsome Chariot sent To Pallas Citie lode with come, commaunding him to sowe Some part in ground new broken up, and some thereof to strow In ground long tillde before. Anon the yong man up did stie And flying over Europe and the Realme of Asias hie, Alighted in the Scithian land. There reyned in that coast A King callde Lyncus, to whose house he entred for to host. And being there demaunded how and why he thither came, And also of his native soyle and of his proper name, I hight (quoth he) Triptolemus and borne was in the towne Of Athens in the land of Greece, that place of high renowne. I neyther came by Sea nor Lande, but through the open Aire I bring with me Dame Ceres giftes which being sowne in faire And fertile fields may fruitfull Harvests yeelde and finer fare. The savage King had spight, and to th'intent that of so rare And gracious gifts himselfe might seeme first founder for to be, He entertainde him in his house, and when asleepe was he, He came upon him with a sword: but as he would have killde him, Dame Ceres turnde him to a Lynx, and waking tother willde him His sacred Teemeware through the Ayre to drive abrode agen. The chiefe of us had ended this hir learned song, and then The Nymphes with one consent did judge that we the Goddesses Of Helicon had wonne the day. But when I sawe that these Unnurtred Damsels overcome began to fall a scolding, I sayd: so little sith to us you thinke your selves beholding, For bearing with your malapertnesse in making chalenge, that Besides your former fault, ye eke doe fall to rayling flat, Abusing thus our gentlenesse: we will from hence proceede The punishment, and of our wrath the rightfull humor feede. Euippyes daughters grinnd and jeerde and set our threatnings light. But as they were about to prate, and bent their fistes to smight Theyr wicked handes with hideous noyse, they saw the stumps of quilles New budding at their nayles, and how their armes soft feather hilles. Eche saw how others mouth did purse and harden into Bill, And so becomming uncouth Birdes to haunt the woods at will. For as they would have clapt their handes their wings did up them heave, And hanging in the Ayre the scoldes of woods did Pies them leave. Now also being turnde to Birdes they are as eloquent As ere they were, as chattring still, as much to babling bent. Tritonia unto all these wordes attentive hearing bendes, And both the Muses learned song and rightfull wrath commendes. And thereupon within hir selfe this fancie did arise: It is no matter for to prayse: but let our selfe devise Some thing to be commended for: and let us not permit Our Majestie to be despisde without revenging it. And therewithall she purposed to put the Lydian Maide Arachne to hir neckeverse who (as had to hir bene saide) Presumed to prefer hir selfe before hir noble grace In making cloth. This Damsell was not famous for the place In which she dwelt, nor for hir stocke, but for hir Arte. Hir Sier Was Idmon, one of Colophon, a pelting Purple Dier. Hir mother was deceast: but she was of the baser sort, And egall to hir Make in birth, in living, and in port. But though this Maide were meanly borne, and dwelt but in a shed At little Hypep: yet hir trade hir fame abrode did spred Even all the Lydian Cities through. To see hir wondrous worke The Nymphes that underneath the Vines of shadie Tmolus lurke Their Vineyards oftentimes forsooke. So did the Nymphes also About Pactolus oftentimes their golden streames forgo. And evermore it did them good not only for to see Hir clothes already made, but while they eke a making bee Such grace was in hir workmanship. For were it so that shee The newshorne fleeces from the sheepe in bundels deftly makes, Or afterward doth kemb the same, and drawes it out in flakes Along like cloudes, or on the Rocke doth spinne the handwarpe woofe, Or else embroydreth, certenly ye might perceive by proofe She was of Pallas bringing up, which thing she nathelesse Denyeth, and disdaining such a Mistresse to confesse, Let hir contend with me, she saide: and if she me amend I will refuse no punishment the which she shall extend. Minerva tooke an olde wives shape and made hir haire seeme gray, And with a staffe hir febled limmes pretended for to stay. Which done, she thus began to speake: Not all that age doth bring We ought to shonne. Experience doth of long continuance spring. Despise not mine admonishment. Seeke fame and chiefe report For making cloth, and Arras worke, among the mortall sort. But humbly give the Goddesse place: and pardon of hir crave For these thine unadvised wordes. I warrant thou shalt have Forgivenesse, if thou aske it hir. Arachne bent hir brewes And lowring on hir, left hir worke: and hardly she eschewes From flying in the Ladies face. Hir countnance did bewray Hir moodie minde: which bursting forth in words she thus did say: Thou commest like a doting foole: thy wit is spent with yeares: Thy life hath lasted over long as by thy talke appeares. And if thou any daughter have, or any daughtrinlawe, I would she heard these wordes of mine: I am not such a Daw, But that without thy teaching I can well ynough advise My selfe. And lest thou shouldest thinke thy words in any wise Availe, the selfesame minde I keepe with which I first begonne. Why commes she not hirselfe I say? this matche why doth she shonne? Then said the Goddesse: Here she is. And therewithall she cast Hir oldewives riveled shape away, and shewde hir selfe at last Minerva like. The Nymphes did streight adore hir Majestie. So did the yong newmaried wives that were of Migdonie. The Maiden only unabasht woulde nought at all relent. But yet she blusht and sodenly a ruddynesse besprent Hir cheekes which wanzd away againe, even like as doth the Skie Looke sanguine at the breake of day, and turneth by and by To white at rising of the Sunne. As hote as any fire She sticketh to hir tackling still. And through a fond desire Of glorie, to hir owne decay all headlong forth she runnes. For Pallas now no lenger warnes, ne now no lenger shunnes Ne seekes the chalenge to delay. Immediatly they came And tooke their places severally, and in a severall frame Eche streynde a web, the warpe whereof was fine. The web was tide Upon a Beame. Betweene the warpe a stay of reede did slide. The woofe on sharpened pinnes was put betwixt the warp, and wrought With fingars. And as oft as they had through the warpe it brought, They strake it with a Boxen combe. Both twayne of them made hast: And girding close for handsomnesse their garments to their wast Bestirde their cunning handes apace. Their earnestnesse was such As made them never thinke of paine. They weaved verie much Fine Purple that was dide in Tyre, and colours set so trim That eche in shadowing other seemde the very same with him. Even like as after showres of raine when Phebus broken beames Doe strike upon the Cloudes, appeares a compast bow of gleames Which bendeth over all the Heaven: wherein although there shine A thousand sundry colours, yet the shadowing is so fine, That looke men nere so wistly, yet beguileth it their eyes: So like and even the selfsame thing eche colour seemes to rise Whereas they meete, which further off doe differ more and more. Of glittring golde with silken threede was weaved there good store. And stories put in portrayture of things done long afore. Minerva painted Athens towne and Marsis rocke therein, And all the strife betweene hirselfe and Neptune, who should win The honor for to give the name to that same noble towne. In loftie thrones on eyther side of Jove were settled downe Six Peeres of Heaven with countnance grave and full of Majestie, And every of them by his face discerned well might be. The Image of the mightie Jove was Kinglike. She had made Neptunus standing striking with his long thre tyned blade Upon the ragged Rocke: and from the middle of the clift She portrayd issuing out a horse, which was the noble gift For which he chalengde to himselfe the naming of the towne. She picturde out hirselfe with shielde and Morion on hir crowne With Curet on hir brest, and Speare in hand with sharpened ende. She makes the Earth (the which hir Speare doth seeme to strike) to sende An Olyf tree with fruite thereon: and that the Gods thereat Did wonder: and with victorie she finisht up that plat. Yet to th'intent examples olde might make it to be knowne To hir that for desire of praise so stoutly helde hir owne, What guerdon she shoulde hope to have for hir attempt so madde, Foure like contentions in the foure last corners she did adde. The Thracians Heme and Rodope the formost corner hadde: Who being sometime mortall folke usurpt to them the name Of Jove and Juno, and were turnde to mountaines for the same. A Pigmie womans piteous chaunce the second corner shewde, Whome Juno turned to a Crane (bicause she was so lewde As for to stand at strife with hir for beautie) charging hir Against hir native countriefolke continuall war to stir. The thirde had proude Antigone, who durst of pride contende In beautie with the wife of Jove: by whome she in the ende Was turned to a Storke. No whit availed hir the towne Of Troy, or that Laomedon hir father ware a crowne, But that she, clad in feathers white, hir lazie wings must flap. And with a bobbed Bill bewayle the cause of hir missehap. The last had chyldelesse Cinyras: who being turnde to stone, Was picturde prostrate on the grounde, and weeping all alone, And culling fast betweene his armes a Temples greeces fine To which his daughters bodies were transformde by wrath divine. The utmost borders had a wreath of Olyf round about, And this is all the worke the which Minerva portrayd out. For with the tree that she hirselfe had made but late afore She bounded in hir Arras cloth, and then did worke no more. The Lydian maiden in hir web did portray to the full How Europe was by royall Jove beguilde in shape of Bull. A swimming Bull, a swelling Sea, so lively had she wrought, That Bull and Sea in very deede ye might them well have thought. The Ladie seemed looking backe to landwarde and to crie Upon hir women, and to feare the water sprinkling hie, And shrinking up hir fearfull feete. She portrayd also there Asteriee struggling with an Erne which did away hir beare. And over Leda she had made a Swan his wings to splay. She added also how by Jove in shape of Satyr gaye The faire Antiope with a paire of children was besped: And how he tooke Amphitrios shape when in Alcmenas bed He gate the worthie Hercules: and how he also came To Danae like a shoure of golde, to Aegine like a flame, A sheepeherd to Mnemosyne, and like a Serpent sly To Proserpine. She also made Neptunus leaping by Upon a Maide of Aeolus race in likenesse of a Bull, And in the streame Enipeus shape begetting on a trull The Giants Othe and Ephialt, and in the shape of Ram Begetting one Theophane Bisalties ympe with Lam, And in a lustie Stalions shape she made him covering there Dame Ceres with the yellow lockes, and hir whose golden heare Was turnde to crawling Snakes: on whome he gate the winged horse. She made him in a Dolphins shape Melantho to enforce. Of all these things she missed not their proper shapes, nor yit The full and just resemblance of their places for to hit. In likenesse of a Countrie cloyne was Phebus picturde there, And how he now ware Gossehaukes wings, and now a Lions heare. And how he in a shepeherdes shape was practising a wile The daughter of one Macarie, dame Issa, to beguile. And how the faire Erygone by chaunce did suffer rape By Bacchus who deceyved hir in likenesse of a grape. And how that Saturne in the shape of Genet did beget The double Chiron. Round about the utmost Verdge was set A narrow Traile of pretie floures with leaves of Ivie fret. Not Pallas, no, nor spight it selfe could any quarrell picke To this hir worke: and that did touch Minerva to the quicke. Who thereupon did rende the cloth in pieces every whit, Bicause the lewdnesse of the Gods was biased so in it. And with an Arras weavers combe of Box she fiercely smit Arachne on the forehead full a dozen times and more. The Maide impacient in hir heart, did stomacke this so sore, That by and by she hung hirselfe. Howbeit as she hing, Dame Pallas pitying hir estate, did stay hir in the string From death, and said: Lewde Callet live: but hang thou still for mee. And lest hereafter from this curse that time may set thee free, I will that this same punishment enacted firmely bee, As well on thy posteritie for ever as on thee. And after when she should depart, with juice of Hecats flowre She sprinkled hir: and by and by the poyson had such powre, That with the touch thereof hir haire, hir eares, and nose did fade: And verie small it both hir heade and all hir bodie made. In steade of legs, to both hir sides sticke fingars long and fine: The rest is bellie. From the which she nerethelesse doth twine A slender threede, and practiseth in shape of Spider still The Spinners and the Websters crafts of which she erst had skill. All Lydia did repine hereat, and of this deede the fame Through Phrygie ran, and through the world was talking of the same. Before hir mariage Niobe had knowen hir verie well, When yet a Maide in Meonie and Sipyle she did dwell. And yet Arachnes punishment at home before hir eyes, To use discreter kinde of talke it could hir not advise, Nor (as behoveth) to the Gods to yeelde in humble wise. For many things did make hir proud. But neyther did the towne The which hir husband builded had, nor houses of renowne Of which they both descended were, nor yet the puissance Of that great Realme wherein they reignde so much hir minde enhaunce (Although the liking of them all did greatly hir delight) As did the offspring of hir selfe. And certenly she might Have bene of mothers counted well most happie, had she not So thought hir selfe. For she whome sage Tyresias had begot, The Prophet Manto, through instinct of heavenly powre, did say These kinde of wordes in open strete: Ye Thebanes go your way Apace, and unto Laton and to Latons children pray, And offer godly Frankinsence, and wreath your haire with Bay. Latona by the mouth of me commaundes you so to do. The Thebane women by and by obeying thereunto, Deckt all their heades with Laurell leaves as Manto did require, And praying with devout intent threw incense in the fire. Beholde out commeth Niobe environde with a garde Of servaunts and a solemne traine that followed afterward. She was hirselfe in raiment made of costly cloth of golde Of Phrygia facion verie brave and gorgeous to beholde. And of hir selfe she was right faire and beautifull of face, But that hir wrathfull stomake then did somewhat staine hir grace. She moving with hir portly heade hir haire the which as then Did hang on both hir shoulders loose, did pawse a while, and when Wyth loftie looke hir stately eyes she rolled had about: What madnesse is it (quoth she) to prefer the heavenly rout Of whome ye doe but heare, to such as daily are in sight? Or why should Laton honored be with Altars? Never wight To my most sacred Majestie did offer incense. Yit My Father was that Tantalus whome only as most fit The Gods among them at their boordes admitted for to sit. A sister of the Pleyades is my mother. Finally My Graundsire on the mothers side is that same Atlas hie That on his shoulders beareth up the heavenly Axeltree. Againe my other Graundfather is Jove, and (as you see) He also is my Fathrinlawe, wherein I glorie may. The Realme of Phrygia here at hand doth unto me obay. In Cadmus pallace I thereof the Ladie doe remaine And joyntly with my husbande I as peerlesse Princesse reigne Both over this same towne whose walles my husbands harpe did frame, And also over all the folke and people in the same. In what soever corner of my house I cast mine eye, A worlde of riches and of goods I everywhere espie. Moreover for the beautie, shape, and favor growen in me, Right well I know I doe deserve a Goddesse for to be. Besides all this, seven sonnes I have and daughters seven likewise, By whome shall shortly sonneinlawes and daughtrinlawes arise. Judge you now if that I have cause of statelynesse or no. How dare ye then prefer to me Latona that same fro The Titan Ceus ympe, to whome then readie downe to lie The hugy Earth a little plot to childe on did denie? From Heaven, from Earth, and from the Sea your Goddesse banisht was, And as an outcast through the world from place to place did passe, Untill that Delos pitying hir, sayde Thou doste fleete on land And I on Sea, and thereupon did lende hir out of hand A place unstable. Of two twinnes there brought abed was she: And this is but the seventh part of the issue borne by me. Right happie am I. Who can this denie? and shall so still I Continue. Who doth doubt of that? Abundance hath and will Preserve me. I am greater than that frowarde fortune may Empeache me. For although she should pull many things away, Yet should she leave me many more. My state is out of feare. Of thys my huge and populous race surmise you that it were Possible some of them should misse: yet can I never be So spoyled that no mo than two shall tarie styll with me. Leave quickly thys lewde sacrifice, and put me off this Bay That on your heads is wreathed thus. They laide it streight away And left their holie rites undone, and closely as they may With secret whispring to themselves to Laton they dyd pray. How much from utter barrennesse the Goddesse was: so much Disdeind she more: and in the top of Cynthus framed such Complaint as this to both hir twinnes. Lo I your mother deare, Who in my bodie once you twaine with painefull travail beare, Loe I whose courage is so stout as for to yeelde to none Of all the other Goddesses except Joves wife alone, Am lately doubted whether I a Goddesse be or no. And if you helpe not, children mine, the case now standeth so That I the honor must from hence of Altars quight forgo. But this is not mine only griefe. Besides hir wicked fact Most railing words hath Niobe to my defacing rackt. She durst prefer hir Barnes to you. And as for me, she naamde Me barren in respect of hir, and was no whit ashaamde To shewe hir fathers wicked tongue which she by birth doth take. This said: Latona was about entreatance for to make. Cease off (quoth Phebus) long complaint is nothing but delay Of punishment, and the selfesame wordes did Phebe also say. And by and by they through the Ayre both gliding swiftly downe, On Cadmus pallace hid in cloudes did light in Thebe towne. A fielde was underneath the wall both levell, large and wide, Betrampled every day with horse that men therin did ride, Where store of Carres and Horses hoves the cloddes to dust had trode. A couple of Amphions sonnes on lustie coursers rode In this same place. Their horses faire Coperisons did weare Of scarlet: and their bridles brave with golde bedecked were. Of whome as Niobs eldest sonne Ismenos hapt to bring His horse about, and reynde him in to make him keepe the ring, He cride alas: and in his brest with that an arrow stacke And by and by hys dying hand did let the bridle slacke. And on the right side of the horse he slipped to the ground. The second brother Sipylus did chaunce to heare the sound Of Quivers clattring in the Ayre, and giving streight the reyne And spur togither to his horse, began to flie amayne: As doth the master of a ship: who when he sees a shoure Approching, by some mistie cloud that ginnes to gloume and loure Doth clap on all his sayles bicause no winde should scape him by Though nere so small. Howbeit as he turned for to flie, He was not able for to scape the Arrow which did stricke Him through the necke. The nocke thereof did shaking upward sticke, The head appeared at his throte. And as he forward gave Himselfe in flying: so to ground he groveling also drave, And toppled by the horses mane and feete amid his race, And with his warme newshedded bloud berayed all the place. But Phedimus, and Tantalus, the heir of the name Of Tantalus, his Graundfather, who customably came From other dailie exercise to wrestling, had begun To close, and eache at other now with brest to brest to run, When Phebus Arrow being sent with force from streyned string Did strike through both of them as they did fast togither cling. And so they sighed both at once, and both at once for paine Fell downe to ground, and both of them at once their eyes did streine To see their latest light, and both at once their ghostes did yeelde. Alphenor this mischaunce of theirs with heavie heart behelde, And scratcht and beate his wofull brest: and therewith flying out To take them up betweene his armes, was as he went about This worke of kindly pitie, killde. For Phebus with a Dart Of deadly dint did rive him through the Bulke and brake his hart. And when the steale was plucked out, a percell of his liver Did hang upon the hooked heade: and so he did deliver His life and bloud into the Ayre departing both togither. But Damasicthon (on whose heade came never scissor) felt Mo woundes than one. It was his chaunce to have a grievous pelt Upon the verie place at which the leg is first begun And where the hamstrings by the joynt with supple sinewes run And while to draw this arrow out he with his hand assaide, Another through his wezant went, and at the feathers staide. The bloud did drive out this againe, and spinning high did spout A great way off, and pierst the Ayre with sprinkling all about. The last of all Ilionie with streched handes, and speche Most humble (but in vaine) did say: O Gods I you beseche Of mercie all in generall. He wist not what he saide Ne how that unto all of them he ought not to have praide. The God that helde the Bow in hande was moved: but as then The Arrow was alredie gone so farre, that backe agen He could not call it. Neerthelesse the wound was verie small Of which he dide, for why his heart it did but lightly gall. The rumor of the mischiefe selfe, and mone of people, and The weeping of hir servants gave the mother t'understand The sodaine stroke of this mischaunce. She wondred verie much And stormed also that the Gods were able to doe such A deede, or durst attempt it, yea she thought it more than right That any of them over hir should have so mickle might. Amphion had fordone himselfe alreadie with a knife, And ended all his sorrowes quite togither with his life. Alas, alas how greatly doth this Niobe differ here From tother Niobe who alate disdaining any Pere Did from Latonas Altars drive hir folke, and through the towne With haultie looke and stately gate went pranking up and downe, Then spighted at among hir owne, but piteous now to those: That heretofore for hir deserts had bene hir greatest foes. She falleth on the corses colde, and taking no regard, Bestowde hir kysses on hir sonnes as whome she afterwarde Did know she never more shoulde kisse. From whome she lifting thoe Hir blew and broosed armes to heaven sayd: O thou cruell foe Latona, feede, yea feede thy selfe I say upon my woe And overgorge thy stomacke, yea and glut thy cruell hart With these my present painefull pangs of bitter griping smart. In corses seven I seven times deade am caried to my grave. Rejoyce thou foe and triumph now in that thou seemste to have The upper hande. What? upper hand? no no it is not so. As wretched as my case doth seeme, yet have I left me mo Than thou for all thy happinesse canst of thine owne account. Even after all these corses yet I still doe thee surmount. Upon the ende of these same wordes the twanging of the string In letting of the Arrow flie was clearly heard: which thing Made every one save Niobe afraide. Hir heart was so With sorrowe hardned, that she grew more bolde. Hir daughters tho Were standing all with mourning weede and hanging haire before Their brothers coffins. One of them in pulling from the sore An Arrow sticking in his heart, sanke downe upon hir brother With mouth to mouth, and so did yeelde hir fleeting ghost. Another In comforting the wretched case and sorrow of hir mother Upon the sodaine helde hir peace. She stricken was within With double wound: which caused hir hir talking for to blin And shut hir mouth: but first hir ghost was gone. One all in vaine Attempting for to scape by flight was in hir flying slaine. Another on hir sisters corse doth tumble downe starke dead. This quakes and trembles piteously, and she doth hide hir head. And when that sixe with sundrye woundes dispatched were and gone, At last as yet remained one: and for to save that one, Hir mother with hir bodie whole did cling about hir fast, And wrying hir did over hir hir garments wholy cast: And cried out: O leave me one: this little one yet save: Of many but this only one the least of all I crave. But while she prayd, for whome she prayd was kild. Then down she sate Bereft of all hir children quite, and drawing to hir fate, Among hir daughters and hir sonnes and husband newly dead. Hir cheekes waxt hard, the Ayre could stirre no haire upon hir head. The colour of hir face was dim and clearly voide of blood, And sadly under open lids hir eyes unmoved stood. In all hir bodie was no life. For even hir verie tung And palat of hir mouth was hard, and eche to other clung. Hir Pulses ceased for to beate, hir necke did cease to bow, Hir armes to stir, hir feete to go, all powre forwent as now. And into stone hir verie wombe and bowels also bind. But yet she wept: and being hoyst by force of whirling wind Was caried into Phrygie. There upon a mountaines top She weepeth still in stone. From stone the drerie teares do drop. Then all both men and women fearde Latonas open ire I And far with greater sumptuousnesse and earnester desire Did worship the great majestie of this their Goddesse who Did beare at once both Phebus and his sister Phebe too. And through occasion of this chaunce, (as men are wont to do In cases like) the people fell to telling things of old Of whome a man among the rest this tale ensuing told. The auncient folke that in the fieldes of fruitfull Lycia dwelt Due penance also for their spight to this same Goddesse felt. The basenesse of the parties makes the thing it selfe obscure. Yet is the matter wonderfull. My selfe I you assure Did presently beholde the Pond, and saw the very place In which this wondrous thing was done. My father then in case, Not able for to travell well by reason of his age, To fetch home certaine Oxen thence made me to be his page, Appointing me a countryman of Lycia to my guide. With whome as I went plodding in the pasture groundes, I spide Amids a certaine Pond an olde square Aultar colourd blacke With cinder of the sacrifice that still upon it stacke. About it round grew wavering Reedes. My guide anon did stay: And softly, O be good to me, he in himselfe did say. And I with like soft whispering did say, Be good to mee. And then I askt him whether that the Altar wee did see Belonged to the Waternymphes, or Faunes or other God Peculiar to the place it selfe upon the which we yod. He made me aunswere thus: My guest, no God of countrie race Is in this Altar worshipped. That Goddesse claymes this place, From whome the wife of mightie Jove did all the world forfend: When wandring restlesse here and there full hardly in the end Unsetled Delos did receyve then floting on the wave, As tide and weather to and fro the swimming Iland drave. There maugre Juno (who with might and main against hir strave) Latona staying by a Date and Olyf tree that sted In travail, of a paire of twinnes was safely brought abed. And after hir delivrance folke report that she for feare Of Junos wrath did flie from hence, and in hir armes did beare Hir babes which afterwarde became two Gods. In which hir travell In Sommer when the scorching Sunne is wont to burne the gravell Of Lycie countrie where the fell Chymera hath his place, The Goddesse wearie with the long continuance of hir race, Waxt thirstie by the meanes of drought with going in the Sunne. Hir babes had also suckt hir brestes as long as milke wold runne. By chaunce she spide this little Pond of water here bylow. And countrie Carles were gathering there these Osier twigs that grow So thicke upon a shrubbie stalke: and of these rushes greene: And flags that in these moorish plots so rife of growing beene. She comming hither kneeled downe the water up to take To coole hir thirst. The churlish cloynes forfended hir the Lake. Then gently said the Goddesse: Sirs, why doe you me forfend The water? Nature doth to all in common water send. For neither Sunne, nor Ayre, nor yet the Water private bee, I seeke but that which natures gift hath made to all things free. And yet I humbly crave of you to graunt it unto mee. I did not go about to wash my werie limmes and skin, I would but only quench my thirst. My throte is scalt within For want of moysture: and my chappes and lippes are parching drie: And scarsly is there way for wordes to issue out thereby. A draught of water will to me be heavenly Nectar now. And sure I will confesse I have received life of you. Yea in your giving of a drop of water unto mee, The case so standeth as you shall preserve the lives of three. Alas let these same sillie soules that in my bosome stretch Their little armes (by chaunce hir babes their pretie dolles did retch) To pitie move you. What is he so hard that would not yeeld To this the gentle Goddesses entreatance meeke and meeld? Yet they for all the humble wordes she could devise to say, Continued in their willfull moode of churlish saying nay, And threatned for to sende hir thence onlesse she went away, Reviling hir most spightfully. And not contented so, With handes and feete the standing Poole they troubled to and fro, Until with trampling up and downe maliciously, the soft And slimie mud that lay beneath was raised up aloft. With that the Goddesse was so wroth that thirst was quight forgot. And unto such unworthie Carles hirselfe she humbleth not: Ne speaketh meaner wordes than might beseeme a Goddesse well. But holding up hir handes to heaven: For ever mought you dwell In this same Pond, she said: hir wish did take effect with speede. For underneath the water they delight to be in deede. Now dive they to the bottome downe, now up their heades they pop, Another while with sprawling legs they swim upon the top. And oftentimes upon the bankes they have a minde to stond, And oftentimes from thence againe to leape into the Pond. And there they now doe practise still their filthy tongues to scold And shamelessely (though underneath the water) they doe hold Their former wont of brawling still amid the water cold. Their voices stil are hoarse and harsh, their throtes have puffed goles, Their chappes with brawling widened are, their hammer headed Jowls Are joyned to their shoulders just, the neckes of them doe seeme Cut off, the ridgebone of their backe stickes up of colour greene. Their paunch which is the greatest part of all their trunck is gray, And so they up and downe the Pond made newly Frogges doe play. When one of Lyce (I wote not who) had spoken in this sort, Another of a Satyr streight began to make report, Whome Phebus overcomming on a pipe (made late ago By Pallas) put to punishment. Why flayest thou me so, Alas, he cride, it irketh me. Alas a sorie pipe Deserveth not so cruelly my skin from me to stripe. For all his crying ore his eares quight pulled was his skin. Nought else he was than one whole wounde. The griesly bloud did spin From every part, the sinewes lay discovered to the eye, The quivering veynes without a skin lay beating nakedly. The panting bowels in his bulke ye might have numbred well, And in his brest the shere small strings a man might easly tell. The Countrie Faunes, the Gods of Woods, the Satyrs of his kin, The Mount Olympus whose renowne did ere that time begin, And all the Nymphes, and all that in those mountaines kept their sheepe, Or grazed cattell thereabouts, did for this Satyr weepe. The fruitfull earth waxt moyst therewith, and moysted did receyve Their teares, and in hir bowels deepe did of the same conceyve. And when that she had turned them to water, by and by She sent them forth againe aloft to see the open Skie. The River that doth rise thereof beginning there his race, In verie deepe and shoring bankes to Seaward runnes apace Through Phrygie, and according as the Satyr, so the streame Is called Marsias, of the brookes the clearest in that Realme. With such examples as these same the common folke returnde To present things, and every man through all the Citie moornde For that Amphion was destroyde with all his issue so. But all the fault and blame was laide upon the mother tho. For hir alonly Pelops mournde (as men report) and hee In opening of his clothes did shewe that everie man might see His shoulder on the left side bare of Ivorie for to bee. This shoulder at his birth was like his tother both in hue And flesh, untill his fathers handes most wickedly him slue, And that the Gods when they his limmes againe togither drue, To joyne them in their proper place and forme by nature due, Did finde out all the other partes, save only that which grue Betwene the throteboll and the arme, which when they could not get This other made of Ivorie white in place therof they set And by that meanes was Pelops made againe both whole and sound. The neyghbor Princes thither came, and all the Cities round About besought their Kings to go and comfort Thebe: as Arge And Sparta, and Mycene which was under Pelops charge, And Calydon unhated of the frowning Phebe yit, The welthie towne Orchomenos, and Corinth which in it Had famous men for workmanship in mettals: and the stout Messene which full twentie yeares did hold besiegers out. And Patre, and the lowly towne Cleona, Nelies Pyle, And Troyzen not surnamed yet Pittheia for a while. And all the other Borough townes and Cities which doe stand Within the narrow balke at which two Seas doe meete at hand, Or which do bound upon the balke without in maine firme land. Alonly Athens (who would thinke?) did neither come nor send. Warre barred them from courtesie the which they did entend. The King of Pontus with an host of savage people lay In siege before their famous waHes and curstly did them fray. Untill that Tereus, King of Thrace, approching to their ayde, Did vanquish him, and with renowne was for his labor payde. And sith he was so puissant in men and ready coyne, And came of mightie Marsis race, Pandion sought to joyne Aliance with him by and by, and gave him to his Feere His daughter Progne. At this match (as after will appeare) Was neyther Juno, President of mariage wont to bee, Nor Hymen, no nor any one of all the graces three. The Furies snatching Tapers up that on some Herce did stande Did light them, and before the Bride did beare them in their hande. The Furies made the Bridegroomes bed. And on the house did rucke A cursed Owle the messenger of yll successe and lucke. And all the night time while that they were lying in their beds, She sate upon the bedsteds top right over both their heds. Such handsell Progne had the day that Tereus did hir wed. Such handsell had they when that she was brought of childe abed. All Thracia did rejoyce at them, and thankt their Gods, and willd That both the day of Prognes match with Tereus should be hild For feastfull, and the day likewise that Itys first was borne: So little know we what behoves. The Sunne had now outworne Five Harvests, and by course five times had run his yearly race, When Progne flattring Tereus saide: If any love or grace Betweene us be, send eyther me my sister for to see, Or finde the meanes that hither she may come to visit mee. You may assure your Fathrinlaw she shall againe returne Within a while. Ye doe to me the highest great good turne That can be, if you bring to passe I may my sister see. Immediatly the King commaundes his shippes aflote to bee. And shortly after, what with sayle and what with force of Ores, In Athens haven he arrives and landes at Pyrey shores. As soone as of his fathrinlaw the presence he obtainde, And had of him bene courteously and friendly entertainde, Unhappie handsell entred with their talking first togither. The errandes of his wife, the cause of his then comming thither, He had but new begon to tell, and promised that when She had hir sister seene, she should with speede be sent agen: When (see the chaunce) came Philomele in raiment very rich, And yet in beautie farre more rich, even like the Fairies which Reported are the pleasant woods and water springs to haunt, So that the like apparell and attire to them you graunt. King Tereus at the sight of hir did burne in his desire, As if a man should chaunce to set a gulfe of come on fire, Or burne a stacke of hay. Hir face in deede deserved love. But as for him, to fleshly lust even nature did him move. For of those countries commonly the people are above All measure prone to lecherie. And therefore both by kinde His flame encreast, and by his owne default of vicious minde. He purposde fully to corrupt hir servants with reward: Or for to bribe hir Nurce, that she should slenderly regarde Hir dutie to hir mistresseward. And rather than to fayle, The Ladie even hirselfe with gifts he minded to assayle, And all his kingdome for to spend, or else by force of hand To take hir, and in maintenance thereof by sword to stand. There was not under heaven the thing but that he durst it prove, So far unable was he now to stay his lawlesse love. Delay was deadly. Backe againe with greedie minde he came Of Prognes errands for to talke: and underneath the same He workes his owne ungraciousnesse. Love gave him power to frame His talke at will. As oft as he demaunded out of square, Upon his wives importunate desire himselfe he bare. He also wept: as though his wife had willed that likewise. O God, what blindnesse doth the heartes of mortall men disguise? By working mischiefe Tereus gets him credit for to seeme A loving man, and winneth praise by wickednesse extreeme. Yea and the foolish Philomele the selfesame thing desires. Who hanging on hir fathers necke with flattring armes, requires Against hir life and for hir life his licence for to go To see hir sister. Tereus beholdes hir wistly tho, And in beholding handles hir with heart. For when he saw Hir kisse hir father, and about his necke hir armes to draw, They all were spurres to pricke him forth, and wood to feede his fire, And foode of forcing nourishment to further his desire. As oft as she hir father did betweene hir armes embrace, So often wished he himselfe hir father in that case. For nought at all should that in him have wrought the greater grace. Hir father could not say them nay, they lay at him so sore. Right glad thereof was Philomele and thanked him therefore. And wretched wench she thinkes she had obtained such a thing, As both to Progne and hir selfe should joy and comfort bring, When both of them in verie deede should afterward it rew. To endward of his daily race and travell Phebus drew, And on the shoring side of Heaven his horses downeward flew. A princely supper was prepaarde, and wine in golde was set: And after meate to take their rest the Princes did them get. But though the King of Thrace that while were absent from hir sight, Yet swelted he: and in his minde revolving all the night Hir face, hir gesture, and hir hands, imaginde all the rest (The which as yet he had not seene) as likte his fancie best. He feedes his flames himselfe. No winke could come within his eyes, For thinking ay on hir. As soone as day was in the skies, Pandion holding in his hand the hand of Tereus prest To go his way, and sheading teares betooke him thus his guest: Deare sonneinlaw I give thee here (sith godly cause constraines) This Damsell. By the faith that in thy Princely heart remaines, And for our late aliance sake, and by the Gods above, I humbly thee beseche that as a Father thou doe love And maintaine hir, and that as soone as may be (all delay Will unto me seeme over long) thou let hir come away, The comfort of my carefull age on whome my life doth stay. And thou my daughter Philomele (it is inough ywis That from hir father set so farre thy sister Progne is) If any sparke of nature doe within thy heart remayne, With all the haaste and speede thou canst returne to me againe. In giving charge he kissed hir: and downe his cheekes did raine The tender teares, and as a pledge of faith he tooke the right Handes of them both, and joyning them did eche to other plight, Desiring them to beare in minde his commendations to His daughter and hir little sonne. And then with much adoe For sobbing, at the last he bad adew as one dismaid. The foremisgiving of his minde did make him sore afraid. As soone as Tereus and the Maide togither were aboord, And that their ship from land with Ores was haled on the foord, The fielde is ours, he cride aloude, I have the thing I sought And up he skipt, so barbrous and so beastly was his thought, That scarce even there he could forbeare his pleasure to have wrought. His eye went never off of hir: as when the scarefull Erne With hooked talants trussing up a Hare among the Ferne, Hath laid hir in his nest, from whence the prisoner can not scape, The ravening fowle with greedie eyes upon his pray doth gape. Now was their journey come to ende: now were they gone aland In Thracia, when that Tereus tooke the Ladie by the hand, And led hir to a pelting graunge that peakishly did stand In woods forgrowen. There waxing pale and trembling sore for feare, And dreading all things, and with teares demaunding sadly where Hir sister was, he shet hir up: and therewithall bewraide His wicked lust, and so by force bicause she was a Maide And all alone he vanquisht hir. It booted nought at all That she on sister, or on Sire, or on the Gods did call. She quaketh like the wounded Lambe which from the Wolves hore teeth New shaken thinkes hir selfe not safe: or as the Dove that seeth Hir fethers with hir owne bloud staynde, who shuddring still doth feare The greedie Hauke that did hir late with griping talants teare. Anon when that this mazednesse was somewhat overpast, She rent hir haire, and beate hir brest, and up to heavenward cast Hir hands in mourningwise, and said: O cankerd Carle, O fell And cruell Tyrant, neyther could the godly teares that fell Adowne my fathers cheekes when he did give thee charge of mee, Ne of my sister that regarde that ought to be in thee, Nor yet my chaaste virginitie, nor conscience of the lawe Of wedlocke, from this villanie thy barbrous heart withdraw? Is made a Cucqueane: and thy selfe through this offence of thee Art made a husband to us both, and unto me a foe, Behold thou hast confounded all. My sister thorough mee A just deserved punishment for lewdly doing so. But to th'intent, O perjurde wretch, no mischiefe may remaine Unwrought by thee, why doest thou from murdring me refraine? Would God thou had it done before this wicked rape. From hence Then should my soule most blessedly have gone without offence. But if the Gods doe see this deede, and if the Gods, I say, Be ought, and in this wicked worlde beare any kinde of sway And if with me all other things decay not, sure the day Will come that for this wickednesse full dearly thou shalt pay. Yea I my selfe rejecting shame thy doings will bewray. And if I may have power to come abrode, them blase I will In open face of all the world. Or if thou keepe me still As prisoner in these woods, my voyce the verie woods shall fill, And make the stones to understand. Let Heaven to this give care And all the Gods and powers therein if any God be there. The cruell tyrant being chaaft and also put in feare With these and other such hir wordes, both causes so him stung, That drawing out his naked sworde that at his girdle hung, He tooke hir rudely by the haire, and wrung hir hands behind hir, Compelling hir to holde them there while he himselfe did bind hir. When Philomela sawe the sworde, she hoapt she should have dide, And for the same hir naked throte she gladly did provide. But as she yirnde and called ay upon hir fathers name, And strived to have spoken still, the cruell tyrant came And with a paire of pinsons fast did catch hir by the tung, And with his sword did cut it off. The stumpe whereon it hung Did patter still. The tip fell downe and quivering on the ground As though that it had murmured it made a certaine sound. And as an Adders tayle cut off doth skip a while: even so The tip of Philomelaas tongue did wriggle to and fro, And nearer to hir mistresseward in dying still did go. And after this most cruell act, for certaine men report That he (I scarcely dare beleve) did oftentimes resort To maymed Philomela and abusde hir at his will: Yet after all this wickednesse he keeping countnance still, Durst unto Progne home repaire. And she immediatly Demaunded where hir sister was. He sighing feynedly Did tell hir falsly she was dead: and with his suttle teares He maketh all his tale to seeme of credit in hir eares. Hir garments glittring all with golde she from hir shoulders teares And puts on blacke, and setteth up an emptie Herce, and keepes A solemne obite for hir soule, and piteously she weepes And waileth for hir sisters fate who was not in such wise As that was, for to be bewailde. The Sunne had in the Skies Past through the twelve celestiall signes, and finisht full a yeare. But what should Philomela doe? She watched was so neare That start she could not for hir life. The walles of that same graunge Were made so high of maine hard stone, that out she could not raunge. Againe hir tunglesse mouth did want the utterance of the fact. Great is the wit of pensivenesse, and when the head is rakt With hard misfortune, sharpe forecast of practise entereth in. A warpe of white upon a frame of Thracia she did pin, And weaved purple letters in betweene it, which bewraide The wicked deede of Tereus. And having done, she praide A certaine woman by hir signes to beare them to hir mistresse. She bare them and deliverde them not knowing nerethelesse What was in them. The Tyrants wife unfolded all the clout, And of hir wretched fortune red the processe whole throughout. She held hir peace (a wondrous thing it is she should so doe) But sorrow tide hir tongue, and wordes agreeable unto Hir great displeasure were not at commaundment at that stound. And weepe she could not. Ryght and wrong she reckeneth to confound, And on revengement of the deede hir heart doth wholy ground. It was the time that wives of Thrace were wont to celebrate The three yeare rites of Bacchus which were done a nighttimes late. A nighttimes soundeth Rhodope of tincling pannes and pots: A nighttimes giving up hir house abrode Queene Progne trots Disguisde like Bacchus other froes and armed to the proofe With all the frenticke furniture that serves for that behoofe. Hir head was covered with a vine. About hir loose was tuckt A Reddeeres skin, a lightsome Launce upon hir shoulder ruckt. In post gaddes terrible Progne through the woods, and at hir heeles A flocke of froes. And where the sting of sorrow which she feeles Enforceth hir to furiousnesse, she feynes it to proceede Of Bacchus motion. At the length she finding out in deede The outset Graunge howlde out, and cride, Now well, and open brake The gates, and streight hir sister thence by force of hand did take, And veyling hir in like attire of Bacchus, hid hir head With Ivie leaves, and home to Court hir sore amazed led. As soone as Philomela wist she set hir foote within That cursed house, the wretched soule to shudther did begin, And all hir face waxt pale. Anon hir sister getting place Did pull off Bacchus mad attire, and making bare hir face Embraced hir betweene hir armes. But she considering that Queene Progne was a Cucqueane made by meanes of hir, durst nat Once raise hir eyes: but on the ground fast fixed helde the same. And where she woulde have taken God to witnesse that the shame And villanie was wrought to hir by violence, she was fayne To use hir hand in stead of speache. Then Progne chaaft amaine, And was not able in hir selfe hir choler to restraine. But blaming Philomela for hir weeping, said these wordes: Thou must not deale in this behalfe with weeping, but with swordes: Or with some thing of greater force than swords. For my part, I Am readie, yea and fully bent all mischiefe for to trie. This pallace will I eyther set on fire, and in the same Bestow the cursed Tereus the worker of our shame: Or pull away his tongue: or put out both his eyes: or cut Away those members which have thee to such dishonor put: Or with a thousand woundes expulse that sinfull soule of his. The thing that I doe purpose on is great, what ere it is. I know not what it may be yet. While Progne hereunto Did set hir minde, came Itys in, who taught hir what to doe. She staring on him cruelly, said: Ah, how like thou art Thy wicked father, and without moe wordes a sorowfull part She purposed, such inward ire was boyling in hir heart. But notwithstanding when hir sonne approched to hir neare, And lovingly had greeted hir by name of mother deare, And with his pretie armes about the necke had hugde hir fast, And flattring wordes with childish toyes in kissing forth had cast, The mothers heart of hirs was then constreyned to relent, Asswaged wholy was the rage to which she erst was bent, And from hir eyes against hir will the teares enforced went. But when she saw how pitie did compell hir heart to yeelde, She turned to hir sisters face from Itys, and behelde Now t'one, now tother earnestly and said: Why tattles he And she sittes dumbe bereft of tongue? as well why calles not she Me sister, as this boy doth call me mother? Seest thou not, Thou daughter of Pandion, what a husband thou hast got? Thou growest wholy out of kinde. To such a husband as Is Tereus, pitie is a sinne. No more delay there was. She dragged Itys after hir, as when it happes in Inde A Tyger gets a little Calfe that suckes upon a Hynde And drags him through the shadie woods. And when that they had found A place within the house far off and far above the ground, Then Progne strake him with a sword now plainly seeing whother He should, and holding up his handes, and crying mother, mother, And flying to hir necke: even where the brest and side doe bounde, And never turnde away hir face. Inough had bene that wound Alone to bring him to his ende. The tother sister slit His throte. And while some life and soule was in his members yit, In gobbits they them rent: whereof were some in Pipkins boyld, And other some on hissing spits against the fire were broyld, And with the gellied bloud of him was all the chamber foyld. To this same banquet Progne bade hir husband knowing nought Nor nought mistrusting of the harme and lewdnesse she had wrought. And feyning a solemnitie according to the guise Of Athens, at the which there might be none in any wise Besides hir husband and hir selfe, she banisht from the same Hir householde folke and sojourners, and such as guestwise came. King Tereus sitting in the throne of his forefathers, fed And swallowed downe the selfesame flesh that of his bowels bred. And he (so blinded was his heart) Fetch Itys hither, sed. No lenger hir most cruell joy dissemble could the Queene. But of hir murther coveting the messenger to beene, She said: The thing thou askest for, thou hast within. About He looked round, and asked where? To put him out of dout, As he was yet demaunding where, and calling for him: out Lept Philomele with scattred haire aflaight like one that fled Had from some fray where slaughter was, and threw the bloudy head Of Itys in his fathers face. And never more was shee Desirous to have had hir speache, that able she might be Hir inward joy with worthie wordes to witnesse franke and free. The tyrant with a hideous noyse away the table shoves: And reeres the fiends from Hell. One while with yawning mouth he proves To perbrake up his meate againe, and cast his bowels out. Another while with wringing handes he weeping goes about. And of his sonne he termes himselfe the wretched grave. Anon With naked sword and furious heart he followeth fierce upon Pandions daughters. He that had bene present would have deemde Their bodies to have hovered up with fethers. As they seemde, So hovered they with wings in deede. Of whome the one away To woodward flies, the other still about the house doth stay. And of their murther from their brestes not yet the token goth, For even still yet are stainde with bloud the fethers of them both. And he through sorrow and desire of vengeance waxing wight, Became a Bird upon whose top a tuft of feathers light In likenesse of a Helmets crest doth trimly stand upright. In stead of his long sword, his bill shootes out a passing space: A Lapwing named is this Bird, all armed seemes his face. The sorrow of this great mischaunce did stop Pandions breath Before his time, and long ere age determinde had his death. Erecthey reigning after him the government did take: A Prince of such a worthinesse as no man well can make Resolution, if he more in armes or justice did excell. Foure sonnes, and daughters foure he had. Of which a couple well Did eche in beautie other match. The one of these whose name Was Procris unto Cephalus, King Aeolus sonne, became A happie wife. The Thracians and King Tereus were a let To Boreas: so that long it was before the God could gt His dearbeloved Orithya, while trifling he did stand With faire entreatance rather than did use the force of hand. But when he saw he no reliefe by gentle meanes could finde, Then turning unto boystous wrath (which unto that same winde Is too familiar and too much accustomed by kinde) He said: I served am but well: for whylaid I apart My proper weapons, fiercenesse, force, and ire, and cruell hart? And fell to fauning like a foole, which did me but disgrace? For me is violence meete. Through this the pestred cloudes I chace. Through this I tosse the Seas. Through this I turne up knottie Okes, And harden Snow, and beate the ground in hayle with sturdie strokes, When I my brothers chaunce to get in open Ayre and Skie. (For that is my fielde in the which my maisteries I doe trie) I charge upon them with such brunt, that of our meeting smart The Heaven betweene us soundes, and from the hollow Cloudes doth start Enforced fire. And when I come in holes of hollow ground, And fiersly in those emptie caves doe rouse my backe up round, I trouble even the ghostes, and make the verie world to quake. This helpe in wooing of my wife (to speede) I should have take. Erecthey should not have bene prayde my Fatherinlaw to bee: He should have bene compelde thereto by stout extremitie. In speaking these or other wordes as sturdie, Boreas gan To flaske his wings. With waving of the which he raysed than So great a gale, that all the earth was blasted therewithall, And troubled was the maine brode Sea. And as he traylde his pall Bedusted over highest tops of things, he swept the ground. And having now in smokie cloudes himselfe enclosed round, Betweene his duskie wings he caught Orithya straught for feare, And like a lover, verie soft and easly did hir beare. And as he flew, the flames of love enkindled more and more By meanes of stirring. Neither did he stay his flight before He came within the land and towne of Cicons with his pray. And there soone after being made his wife she hapt to lay Hir belly, and a paire of boyes she at a burthen brings, Who else in all resembled full their mother, save in wings The which they of their father tooke. Howbeit (by report) They were not borne with wings upon their bodies in this sort. While Calais and Zetes had no beard upon their chin, They both were callow. But as soone as haire did once begin In likenesse of a yellow Downe upon their cheekes to sprout, Then (even as comes to passe in Birdes) the feathers budded out Togither on their pinyons too, and spreaded round about On both their sides. And finally when childhod once was spent And youth come on, togither they with other Minyes went To Colchos in the Galley that was first devisde in Greece, Upon a sea as then unknowen, to fetch the golden fleece. And now in ship of Pagasa the Mynies cut the seas. And leading under endlesse night his age in great disease Of scarcitie was Phiney seene, and Boreas sonnes had chaste Away the Maidenfaced foules that did his victels waste. And after suffring many things in noble Jasons band, In muddie Phasis gushing streame at last they went aland. There while they going to the King demaund the golden fleece Brought thither certaine yeares before by Phryxus out of Greece, And of their dreadfull labors wait an answere to receive: Aeetas daughter in hir heart doth mightie flames conceyve. And after strugling verie long, when reason could not win The upper hand of rage: she thus did in hir selfe begin: In vaine, Medea, doste thou strive: some God what ere he is Against thee bendes his force. For what a wondrous thing is this? Is any thing like this which men doe terme by name of Love? For why should I my fathers hestes esteeme so hard above All measure? sure in very deede they are too hard and sore. Why feare I lest yon straunger whome I never saw before Should perish? what should be the cause of this my feare so great? Unhappie wench (and if thou canst) suppresse this uncouth heat That burneth in thy tender brest: and if so be I coulde, A happie turne it were, and more at ease then be I shoulde. But now an uncouth maladie perforce against my will Doth hale me. Love persuades me one, another thing my skill. The best I see and like: the worst I follow headlong still. Why being of the royall bloud so fondly doste thou rave, Upon a straunger thus to dote, desiring for to have An husband of another world? at home thou mightest finde A lover meete for thine estate on whome to set thy minde. And yet it is but even a chaunce if he shall live or no: God graunt him for to live. I may without offence pray so, Although I lovde him not: for what hath Jason trespast me? Who woulde not pitie Jasons youth onlesse they cruell be? What creature is there but his birth and prowesse might him move? And setting all the rest asyde, who woulde not be in love With Jasons goodlie personage? my heart assuredly Is toucht therewith. But if that I provide not remedie, With burning breath of blasting Bulles needes sindged must he bee. Of seedes that he himselfe must sow a harvest shall he see Of armed men in battell ray upon the ground up grow Against the which it hoveth him his manhode for to show. And as a pray he must be set against the Dragon fell. If I these things let come to passe, I may confesse right well That of a Tyger I was bred: and that within my brest A heart more harde than any steele or stonie rocke doth rest. Why rather doe I not his death with wrathfull eyes beholde? And joy with others seeing him to utter perill solde? Why doe I not enforce the Bulles against him? Why, I say, Exhort I not the cruell men which shall in battell ray Arise against him from the ground? and that same Dragon too Within whose eyes came never sleepe? God shield I so should doo. But prayer smally bootes, except I put to helping hand. And shall I like a Caytife then betray my fathers land? Shall I a straunger save whome we nor none of ours doth know? That he by me preserved may without me homeward row? And take another to his wife, and leave me, wretched wight, To torments? If I wist that he coulde worke me such a spight, Or could in any others love than only mine delight, The Churle should die for me. But sure he beareth not the face Like one that wold doe so. His birth, his courage, and his grace Doe put me clearly out of doubt he will not me deceyve, No nor forget the great good turnes he shall by me receyve. Yet shall he to me first his faith for more assurance plight And solemly he shall be sworne to keepe the covenant right. Why fearste thou now without a cause? step to it out of hand: And doe not any lenger time thus lingring fondly stand. For ay shall Jason thinke himselfe beholding unto thee: And shall thee marrie solemly: yea honored shalt thou bee Of all the Mothers great and small throughout the townes of Greece For saving of their sonnes that come to fetch the golden fleece. And shall I then leave brother, sister, father, kith and kin? And household Gods, and native soyle, and all that is therein? And saile I know not whither with a straunger? Yea: why not? My father surely cruell is, my Countrie rude God wot: My brother yet a verie babe: my sister I dare say Contented is with all hir heart that I should go away: The greatest God is in my selfe: the things I doe forsake Are trifles in comparison of those that I shall take. For saving of the Greekish ship renoumed shall I bee. A better place I shall enjoy with Cities riche and free, Whose fame doth florish fresh even here, and people that excell In civill life and all good Artes: and whome I would not sell For all the goods within the worlde, Duke Aesons noble sonne. Whome had I to my lawfull Feere assuredly once wonne, Most happie yea and blest of God I might my selfe account, And with my head above the starres to heaven I should surmount. But men report that certaine rockes (I know not what) doe meete Amid the waves, and monstrously againe asunder fleete: And how Charybdis, utter foe to ships that passe thereby, Now sowpeth in, now speweth out the Sea incessantly: And ravening Scylla being hemde with cruell dogs about, Amids the gulfe of Sicilie doth make a barking out. What skilleth that? As long as I enjoy the thing I love, And hang about my Jasons necke, it shall no whit me move To saile the daungerous Seas: as long as him I may embrace I cannot surely be afraide in any kinde of case. Or if I chaunce to be afraide, my feare shall only tende But for my husband. Callste thou him thy husband? Doste pretende Gay titles to thy foule offence, Medea? nay not so: But rather looke about how great a lewdnesse thou doste go, And shun the mischiefe while thou mayst. She had no sooner said These wordes, but right and godlinesse and shamefastnesse were staid Before hir eyes, and frantick love did flie away dismaid. She went me to an Altar that was dedicate of olde To Perseys daughter Hecate (of whome the witches holde As of their Goddesse) standing in a thicke and secrete wood So close it coulde not well be spide: and now the raging mood Of furious love was well alaide and clearely put to flight: When spying Aesons sonne, the flame that seemed quenched quight Did kindle out of hand againe. Hir cheekes began to glowe, And flushing over all hir face the scarlet bloud did flowe. And even as when a little sparke that was in ashes hid, Uncovered with the whisking windes is from the ashes rid, Eftsoones it taketh nourishment and kindleth in such wise, That to his former strength againe and flaming it doth rise: Even so hir quailed love which late ye would have thought had quight Bene vanisht out of minde, as soone as Jason came in sight Did kindle to his former force in vewing of the grace With which he did avaunce himselfe then comming there in place. And (as it chaunced) farre more faire and beautifull of face She thought him then than ever erst, but sure it doth behove Hir judgement should be borne withall bicause she was in love. She gapte and gazed in his face with fixed staring eyen As though she never had him seene before that instant time. So farre she was beside hir selfe she thought it should not bee The face of any worldly wight the which she then did see. She was not able for hir life to turne hir eyes away, But when he tooke hir by the hand and speaking gan to pray Hir softly for to succor him, and promisde faithfully To take hir to his wedded wife, she falling by and by A weeping, said: Sir, what I doe I see apparantly. Not want of knowledge of the truth but love shall me deceive. You shalbe saved by my meanes. And now I must receive A faithfull promise at your hand for saving of your life. He made a solemne vow, and sware to take hir to his wife, By triple Hecates holie rites, and by what other power So ever else had residence within that secret bower, And by the Sire of him that should his Fathrinlaw become Who all things doth behold, and as he hopte to overcome The dreadfull daungers which he had soone after to assay. Duke Jason being credited receivde of hir streight way Enchaunted herbes: and having learnde the usage of the same, Departed thence with merrie heart, and to his lodging came. Next Morne had chaste the streaming stars: and folke by heapes did flocke To Marsis sacred field, and there stoode thronging in a shocke, To see the straunge pastimes. The King most stately to beholde With yvorie Mace above them all did sit in throne of golde. Anon the brazenhoved Bulles from stonie nostrils cast Out flakes of fire: their scalding breath the growing grasse did blast. And looke what noise a chimney full of burning fewell makes, Or Flint in softning in the Kell when first the fire it takes By sprincling water thereupon: such noyse their boyling brests Turmoyling with the firie flames enclosed in their chests, Such noise their scorched throtebolles make. Yet stoutly Jason went To meete them. They their dreadfull eyes against him grimly bent, ' And eke their homes with yron tipt: and strake the dust about In stamping with their cloven clees: and with their belowing out Set all the fielde upon a smoke. The Mynies seeing that Were past their wits with sodaine feare, but Jason feeled nat So much as any breath of theirs: such strength hath sorcerie. Their dangling Dewlaps with his hand he coyd unfearfully. And putting yokes upon their neckes he forced them to draw The heavie burthen of the plough which erst they never saw, And for to breake the fielde which erst had never felt the share. The men of Colchos seeing this, like men amazed fare. The Mynies with their shouting out their mazednesse augment, And unto Jason therewithall give more encouragement. Then in a souldiers cap of steele a Vipers teeth he takes, And sowes them in the new plowde fielde. The ground then soking makes The seede foresteepte in poyson strong, both supple lithe and soft, And of these teeth a right straunge graine there growes anon aloft. For even as in the mothers wombe an infant doth begin To take the lively shape of man, and formed is within To due proportion piece by piece in every limme, and when Full ripe he is, he takes the use of Aire with other men: So when that of the Vipers teeth the perfect shape of man Within the bowels of the earth was formed, they began To rise togither orderly upon the fruitefull fielde: And (which a greater wonder is) immediatly they wielde Their weapons growing up with them, whom when the Greekes behilde Preparing for to push their Pikes (which sharply headed were) In Jasons face, downe went their heades, their heartes did faint for feare: And also she that made him safe began abasht to bee. For when against one naked man so huge an armie shee Beheld of armed enmies bent, hir colour did abate And sodainly both voyd of bloud and livelie heate she sate. And lest the chaunted weedes the which she had him given before Should faile at neede, a helping charme she whispred overmore, And practisde other secret Artes the which she kept in store. He casting streight a mightie stone amid his thickest foes, Doth voyde the battell from him selfe and turnes it unto those. These earthbred brothers by and by did one another wound And never ceased till that all lay dead upon the ground. The Greekes were glad, and in their armes did clasp their Champion stout, And clinging to him earnestly embraced him about. And thou fond Medea too couldst well have found in hart The Champion for to have embraste, but that withheld thou wart By shamefastnesse, and yet thou hadst embraced him, if dread Of stayning of thine honor had not staid thee in that stead. But yet as far forth as thou maist, thou doste in heart rejoyce, And secretly (although without expressing it in voyce) Doste thanke thy charmes and eke the Gods as Authors of the same. Now was remaining as the last conclusion of this game, By force of chaunted herbes to make the watchfull Dragon sleepe Within whose eyes came never winke: who had in charge to keepe The goodly tree upon the which the golden fleeces hung. With crested head, and hooked pawes, and triple spirting tung, Right ougly was he to beholde. When Jason had besprent Him with the juice of certaine herbes from Lethey River sent, And thrice had mumbled certaine wordes which are of force to cast So sound a sleepe on things that even as dead a time they last, Which make the raging surges calme and flowing Rivers stay, The dreadfull Dragon by and by (whose eyes before that day Wist never erst what sleeping ment) did fall so fast asleepe That Jason safely tooke the fleece of golde that he did keepe. Of which his bootie being proud, he led with him away The Author of his good successe another fairer pray: And so with conquest and a wife he loosde from Colchos strand, And in Larissa haven safe did go againe aland. The auncient men of Thessalie togither with their wives To Church with offrings gone for saving of their childrens lives. Great heapes of fuming frankincense were fryed in the flame And vowed Bulles to sacrifice with homes faire gilded came. But from this great solemnitie Duke Aeson was away, Now at deathes door and spent with yeares. Then Jason thus gan say: O wife to whome I doe confesse I owe my life in deede, Though al things thou to me hast given, and thy deserts exceede Beleife: yet if enchauntment can, (for what so hard appeares Which strong enchauntment can not doe?) abate thou from my yeares, And add them to my fathers life. As he these wordes did speake, The teares were standing in his eyes. His godly sute did breake Medeas heart: who therewithall bethought hir of hir Sire In leaving whome she had exprest a far unlike desire. But yet bewraying not hir thoughts, she said: O Husband fie, What wickednesse hath scapt your mouth? Suppose you then that I Am able of your life the terme where I will to bestow? Let Hecat never suffer that. Your sute (as well you know) Against all right and reason is. But I will put in proofe A greater gift than you require and more for your behoofe. I will assay your father's life by cunning to prolong, And not with your yeares for to make him yong againe and strong: So our threeformed Goddesse graunt with present helpe to stand A furthrer of the great attempt the which I take in hand. Before the Moone should circlewise close both hir homes in one Three nightes were yet as then to come. As soon as that she shone Most full of light, and did behold the earth with fulsome face, Medea with hir haire not trust so much as in a lace, But flaring on hir shoulders twaine, and barefoote, with hir gowne Ungirded, gate hir out of doores and wandred up and downe Alone the dead time of the night. Both Man, and Beast, and Bird Were fast asleepe: the Serpents slie in trayling forward stird So softly as ye would have thought they still asleepe had bene. The moysting Ayre was whist. No leafe ye could have moving sene. The starres alonly faire and bright did in the welkin shine To which she lifting up hir handes did thrise hirselfe encline: And thrice with water of the brooke hir haire besprincled shee: And gasping thrise she opte hir mouth: and bowing downe hir knee Upon the bare hard ground, she said: O trustie time of night Most faithfull unto privities, O golden starres whose light Doth jointly with the Moone succeede the beames that blaze by day And thou three headed Hecate who knowest best the way To compasse this our great attempt and art our chiefest stay: Ye Charmes and Witchcrafts, and thou Earth which both with herbe and weed Of mightie working furnishest the Wizardes at their neede: Ye Ayres and windes: ye Elves of Hilles, of Brookes, of Woods alone, Of standing Lakes, and of the Night approche ye everychone. Through helpe of whom (the crooked bankes much wondring at the thing) I have compelled streames to run cleane backward to their spring. By charmes I make the calme Seas rough, and make the rough Seas plaine, And cover all the Skie with Cloudes and chase them thence againe. By charmes I raise and lay the windes, and burst the Vipers jaw. And from the bowels of the Earth both stones and trees doe draw. Whole woods and Forestes I remove: I make the Mountaines shake, And even the Earth it selfe to grone and fearfully to quake. I call up dead men from their graves: and thee lightsome Moone I darken oft, though beaten brasse abate thy perill soone. Our Sorcerie dimmes the Morning faire, and darkes the Sun at Noone. The flaming breath of firie Bulles ye quenched for my sake And caused their unwieldie neckes the bended yoke to take. Among the Earthbred brothers you a mortall war did set And brought asleepe the Dragon fell whose eyes were never shet. By meanes whereof deceiving him that had the golden fleece In charge to keepe, you sent it thence by Jason into Greece. Now have I neede of herbes that can by vertue of their juice To flowring prime of lustie youth old withred age reduce. I am assurde ye will it graunt. For not in vaine have shone These twincling starres, ne yet in vaine this Chariot all alone By drought of Dragons hither comes. With that was fro the Skie A Chariot softly glaunced downe, and stayed hard thereby. As soone as she had gotten up, and with hir hand had coyd The Dragons reined neckes, and with their bridles somewhat toyd, They mounted with hir in the Ayre, whence looking downe she saw The pleasant Temp of Thessalie, and made hir Dragons draw To places further from resort: and there she tooke the view What herbes on high mount Pelion, and what on Ossa grew, And what on mountaine Othris and on Pyndus growing were, And what Olympus (greater than mount Pyndus far) did beare. Such herbes of them as liked hir she pullde up roote and rinde Or cropt them with a hooked knife. And many she did finde Upon the bankes of Apidane agreeing to hir minde: And many at Amphrisus foords: and thou Enipeus eke Didst yeelde hir many pretie weedes of which she well did like. Peneus and Sperchius streames contributarie were, And so were Boebes rushie bankes of such as growed there. About Anthedon which against the Ile Euboea standes, A certaine kind of lively grasse she gathered with her handes, The name whereof was scarsly knowen or what the herbe could doe Untill that Glaucus afterward was chaunged thereinto. Nine dayes with winged Dragons drawen, nine nights in Chariot swift She searching everie field and frith from place to place did shift. She was no sooner home returnde but that the Dragons fell Which lightly of hir gathered herbes had taken but the smell, Did cast their sloughes and with their sloughes their riveled age forgo. She would none other house than heaven to hide hir head as tho: But kept hir still without the doores: and as for man was none That once might touch hir. Altars twayne of Turfe she builded: one Upon hir left hand unto Youth, another on the right To tryple Hecat. Both the which as soone as she had dight With Vervain and with other shrubbes that on the fieldes doe rise, Not farre from thence she digde two pits: and making sacrifice Did cut a couple of blacke Rams throtes and filled with their blood The open pits, on which she pourde of warme milke pure and good A boll full, and another boll of honie clarifide. And babling to hir selfe therewith full bitterly she cride On Pluto and his ravisht wife the sovereigne states of Hell, And all the Elves and Gods that on or in the Earth doe dwell, To spare olde Aesons life a while, and not in hast deprive His limmes of that same aged soule which kept them yet alive. Whome when she had sufficiently with mumbling long besought, She bade that Aesons feebled corse should out of doores be brought Before the Altars. Then with charmes she cast him in so deepe A slumber, that upon the herbes he lay for dead asleepe. Which done she willed Jason thence a great way off to go And likewise all the Ministers that served hir as tho: And not presume those secretes with unhallowed eyes to see. They did as she commaunded them. When all were voyded, shee With scattred haire about hir eares like one of Bacchus froes Devoutly by and by about the burning Altars goes: And dipping in the pits of bloud a sort of clifted brandes Upon the Altars kindled them that were on both hir handes. And thrise with brimstone, thrise with fire, and thrise with water pure She purged Aesons aged corse that slept and slumbred sure. The medicine seething all the while a wallop in a pan Of brasse, to spirt and leape aloft and gather froth began. There boyled she the rootes, seedes, flowres, leaves, stalkes and juice togither Which from the fieldes of Thessalie she late had gathered thither. She cast in also precious stones fetcht from the furthest East And, which the ebbing Ocean washt, fine gravell from the West. She put thereto the deaw that fell upon a Monday night: And flesh and feathers of a Witch, a cursed odious wight Which in the likenesse of an Owle abrode a nightes did flie, And Infants in their cradels chaunge or sucke them that they die. The singles also of a Wolfe which when he list could take The shape of man, and when he list the same againe forsake. And from the River Cyniphis which is in Lybie lande She had the fine sheere scaled filmes of water snayles at hand. And of an endlesselived hart the liver had she got, To which she added of a Crowe that then had lived not So little as nine hundred yeares the head and Bill also. Now when Medea had with these and with a thousand mo Such other kinde of namelesse things bestead hir purpose through For lengthning of the old mans life, she tooke a withered bough Cut lately from an Olyf tree, and jumbling all togither Did raise the bottome to the brim: and as she stirred hither And thither with the withered sticke, behold it waxed greene. Anon the leaves came budding out: and sodenly were seene As many berries dangling downe as well the bough could beare. And where the fire had from the pan the scumming cast, or where The scalding drops did fall, the ground did springlike florish there, And flowres with fodder fine and soft immediatly arose. Which when Medea did behold, with naked knife she goes And cuttes the olde mans throte: and letting all his old bloud go Supplies it with the boyled juice: the which when Aeson tho Had at his mouth or at his wounde receyved in, his heare As well of head as beard from gray to coleblacke turned were. His leane, pale, hore, and withered corse grew fulsome, faire and fresh: His furrowed wrincles were fulfilde with yong and lustie flesh. His limmes waxt frolicke, baine and lithe: at which he wondring much, Remembred that at fortie yeares he was the same or such. And as from dull unwieldsome age to youth he backward drew: Even so a lively youthfull spright did in his heart renew. The wonder of this monstrous act had Bacchus seene from hie, And finding that to youthfull yeares his Nurses might thereby Restored bee, did at hir hand receive it as a gift. And lest deceitfull guile should cease, Medea found a shift To feyne that Jason and hir selfe were falne at oddes in wroth: And thereupon in humble wise to Pelias Court she goth. Where forbicause the King himselfe was feebled sore with age, His daughters entertainde hir, whome Medea, being sage, Within a while through false pretence of feyned friendship brought To take hir baite. For as she tolde what pleasures she had wrought For Jason, and among the rest as greatest sadly tolde How she had made his father yong that withred was and olde, And taried long upon that point: they hoped glad and faine That their olde father might likewise his youthful yeares regaine. And this they craving instantly did proffer for hir paine What recompence she would desire. She helde hir peace a while As though she doubted what to doe: and with hir suttle guile Of counterfetted gravitie more eger did them make. As soone as she had promisde them to doe it for their sake, For more assurance of my graunt, your selves (quoth she) shall see The oldest Ram in all your flocke a Lambe streight made to bee By force of my confections strong. Immediatly a Ram So olde that no man thereabouts remembred him a Lam Was thither by his warped homes which turned inward to His hollow Temples, drawne: whose withred throte she slit in two. And when she cleane had drayned out that little bloud that was, Upon the fire with herbes of strength she set a pan of brasse, And cast his carcasse thereinto. The Medcine did abate The largenesse of his limmes and seard his dossers from his pate, And with his homes abridgde his yeares. Anon was plainly heard The bleating of a new yeand Lambe from mid the Ketleward. And as they wondred for to heare the bleating, streight the Lam Leapt out, and frisking ran to seeke the udder of some Dam. King Pelias daughters were amazde. And when they did beholde Hir promise come to such effect, they were a thousand folde More earnest at hir than before. Thrise Phoebus having pluckt The Collars from his horses neckes, in Iber had them duckt. And now in Heaven the streaming starres the fourth night shined cleare: When false Medea on the fire had hanged water shere, With herbes that had no powre at all. The King and all his garde Which had the charge that night about his person for to warde Were through hir nightspels and hir charmes in deadly sleepe all cast. And Pelias daughters with the Witch which eggde them forward, past Into his chamber by the watch, and compast in his bed. Then: Wherefore stand ye doubting thus like fooles, Medea sed. On: draw your swordes: and let ye out his old bloud, that I may Fill up his emptie veynes againe with youthfull bloud streight way. Your fathers life is in your handes: it lieth now in you To have him olde and withred still or yong and lustie. Now If any nature in ye be, and that ye doe not feede A fruitelesse hope, your dutie to your father doe with speede. Expulse his age by sword, and let the filthy matter out. Through these persuasions which of them so ever went about To shewe hirselfe most naturall, became the first that wrought Against all nature: and for feare she should be wicked thought, She executes the wickednesse which most to shun she sought. Yet was not any one of them so bolde that durst abide To looke upon their father when she strake, but wride aside Hir eyes: and so their cruell handes not marking where they hit With faces turnde another way at all aventure smit. He all beweltred in his bloud awaked with the smart, And maimde and mangled as he was did give a sodeyne start Endevoring to have risen up. But when he did beholde Himselfe among so many swordes, he lifting up his olde Pale waryish armes, said: Daughters mine what doe ye? who hath put These wicked weapons in your hands your fathers throte to cut? With that their heartes and handes did faint. And as he talked yet, Medea breaking off his wordes, his windpipe quickly slit, And in the scalding liquor torne did drowne him by and by. But had she not with winged wormes streight mounted in the skie She had not scaped punishment, but stying up on hie She over shadie Pelion flew where Chyron erst did dwell, And over Othrys and the grounds renoumde for that befell To auncient Ceramb: who such time as old Deucalions flood Upon the face of all the Earth like one maine water stood, By helpe of Nymphes with fethered wings was in the Ayer lift, And so escaped from the floud undrowned by the shift. She left Aeolian Pytanie upon hir left hand: and The Serpent that became a stone upon the Lesbian sand. And Ida woods where Bacchus hid a Bullocke (as is sayd) In shape of Stag the which his sonne had theevishly convayde. And where the Sire of Corytus lies buried in the dust. The fieldes which Meras (when he first did into barking brust) Affraide with straungenesse of the noyse. And eke Eurypils towne In which the wives of Cos had homes like Oxen on their crowne Such time as Hercles with his hoste departed from the Ile, And Rhodes to Phoebus consecrate: and Ialyse where ere while The Telchines with their noysome sight did every thing bewitch. At which their hainous wickednesse Jove taking rightfull pritch, Did drowne them in his brothers waves. Moreover she did passe By Ceos and olde Carthey walles where Sir Alcidamas Did wonder how his daughter should be turned to a Dove. The Swannie Temp and Hyries Poole she viewed from above, The which a sodeine Swan did haunt. For Phyllie there for love Of Hyries sonne did at his bidding Birdes and Lions tame, And being willde to breake a Bull performed streight the same: Till wrothfull that his love so oft so streightly should him use, When for his last reward he askt the Bull, he did refuse To give it him. The boy displeasde, said: Well: thou wilt anon Repent thou gave it not: and leapt downe headlong from a stone. They all supposde he had bene falne: but being made a Swan With snowie feathers in the Ayre to flacker he began. His mother Hyrie knowing not he was preserved so, Resolved into melting teares for pensivenesse and wo, And made the Poole that beares hir name. Not far from hence doth stand The Citie Brauron, where sometime by mounting from the land With waving pinions Ophyes ympe, dame Combe, did eschue Hir children which with naked swordes to slea hir did pursue. Anon she kend Calaurie fieldes which did sometime pertaine To chast Diana where a King and eke his wife both twaine Were turnde to Birdes. Cyllene hill upon hir right hand stood, In which Menephron like a beast of wilde and savage moode To force his mother did attempt. Far thence she spide where sad Cephisus mourned for his Neece whome Phebus turned had To ugly shape of swelling Seale: and Eumelles pallace faire Lamenting for his sonnes mischaunce with whewling in the Aire. At Corinth with hir winged Snakes at length she did arrive. Here men (so auncient fathers said that were as then alive) Did breede of deawie Mushrommes. But after that hir teene With burning of hir husbands bride by witchcraft wreakt had beene And that King Creons pallace she on blasing fire had seene, And in hir owne deare childrens bloud had bathde hir wicked knife Not like a mother but a beast bereving them of life: Lest Jason should have punisht hir she tooke hir winged Snakes, And flying thence againe in haste to Pallas Citie makes, Which saw the auncient Periphas and rightuous Phiney too Togither flying, and the Neece of Polypemon who Was fastened to a paire of wings as well as t'other two. Aegeus enterteined hir wherein he was to blame Although he had no further gone but staid upon the same. He thought it not to be inough to use hir as his guest Onlesse he tooke hir to his wife. And now was Thesey prest, Unknowne unto his father yet, who by his knightly force Had set from robbers cleare the balke that makes the streight divorce Betweene the seas Ionian and Aegean. To have killde This worthie knight, Medea had a Goblet readie fillde With juice of Flintwoort venemous the which she long ago Had out of Scythie with hir brought. The common bruit is so That of the teeth of Cerberus this Flintwoort first did grow. There is a cave that gapeth wide with darksome entrie low, There goes a way slope downe by which with triple cheyne made new Of strong and sturdie Adamant the valiant Hercle drew The currish Helhounde Cerberus: who dragging arsward still And writhing backe his scowling eyes bicause he had no skill To see the Sunne and open day, for verie moodie wroth Three barkings yelled out at once, and spit his slavering froth Upon the greenish grasse. This froth (as men suppose) tooke roote And thriving in the batling soyle in burgeons forth did shoote, To bane and mischiefe men withall: and forbicause the same Did grow upon the bare hard Flints, folke gave the foresaid name Of Flintwoort thereunto. The King by egging of his Queene Did reach his sonne this bane as if he had his enmie beene. And Thesey of this treason wrought not knowing ought had tane The Goblet at his fathers hand which helde his deadly bane: When sodenly by the Ivorie hilts that were upon his sword Aegeus knew he was his sonne: and rising from the borde Did strike the mischiefe from his mouth. Medea with a charme Did cast a mist and so scapte death deserved for the harme Entended. Now albeit that Aegeus were right glad That in the saving of his sonne so happy chaunce he had, Yet grieved it his heart full sore that such a wicked wight With treason wrought against his sonne should scape so cleare and quight. Then fell he unto kindling fire on Altars everie where And glutted all the Gods with gifts. The thicke neckt Oxen were With garlands wreathd about their homes knockt downe for sacrifice. A day of more solemnitie than this did never rise Before on Athens (by report). The auncients of the Towne Made feastes: so did the meaner sort, and every common clowne. And as the wine did sharpe their wits, they sung this song: O knight Of peerlesse prowesse Theseus, thy manhod and thy might Through all the coast of Marathon with worthie honor soundes, For killing of the Cretish Bull that wasted those same groundes. The folke of Cremyon thinke themselves beholden unto thee. For that without disquieting their fieldes may tilled be. By thee the land of Epidaure behelde the clubbish sonne Of Vulcane dead. By thee likewise the countrie that doth runne Along Cephisus bankes behelde the fell Procrustes slaine. The dwelling place of Ceres, our Eleusis glad and faine, Beheld the death of Cercyon. That orpid Sinis who Abusde his strength in bending trees and tying folke thereto, Their limmes asunder for to teare when loosened from the stops The trees unto their proper place did trice their streyned tops, Was killde by thee. Thou made the way that leadeth to the towne Alcathoe in Beotia cleare by putting Scyron downe. To this same outlawes scattred bones the land denied rest, And likewise did the Sea refuse to harbrough such a guest: Till after floting to and fro long while as men doe say At length they hardened into stones: and at this present day The stones are called Scyrons cliffes. Now if we should account Thy deedes togither with thy yeares, thy deedes would far surmount Thy yeares. For thee, most valiant Prince, these publike vowes we keepe For thee with cherefull heartes we quaffe these bolles of wine so deepe. The Pallace also of the noyse and shouting did resounde The which the people made for joy. There was not to be founde In all the Citie any place of sadnesse. Nathelesse (So hard it is of perfect joy to find so great excesse, But that some sorrow therewithall is medled more or lesse), Aegeus had not in his sonnes recoverie such delight, But that there followed in the necke a piece of fortunes spight. King Minos was preparing war, who though he had great store Of ships and souldiers yet the wrath the which he had before Conceyved in his fathers brest for murthring of his sonne Androgeus made him farre more strong and fiercer for to ronne To rightfull battell to revenge the great displeasure donne. Howbeit he thought it best ere he his warfare did begin To finde the meanes of forreine aides some friendship for to win. And thereupon with flying fleete where passage did permit He went to visit all the Iles that in those seas doe sit. Anon the Iles Astypaley and Anaphey both twaine The first constreynde for feare of war, the last in hope of gaine, Tooke part with him. Low Myconey did also with him hold So did the chalkie Cymoley, and Syphney which of olde Was verie riche with veynes of golde, and Scyros full of bolde And valiant men, and Seryphey the smooth or rather fell, And Parey which for Marblestone doth beare away the bell. And Sythney which a wicked wench callde Arne did betray For mony: who upon receit thereof without delay Was turned to a birde which yet of golde is gripple still, And is as blacke as any cole, both fethers, feete and bill. A Cadowe is the name of hir. But yet Olyarey, And Didymey, and Andrey eke, and Tene, and Gyarey, And Pepareth where Olive trees most plenteously doe grow, In no wise would agree their helpe on Minos to bestow. Then Minos turning lefthandwise did sayle to Oenope Where reignde that time King Aeacus. This Ile had called be Of old by name of Oenope: but Aeacus turnde the name And after of his mothers name Aegina callde the same. The common folke ran out by heapes desirous for to see A man of such renowne as Minos bruited was to bee. The Kings three sonnes Duke Telamon, Duke Peley, and the yong Duke Phocus went to meete with him. Old Aeacus also clung With age, came after leysurely, and asked him the cause Of his repaire. The ruler of the hundred Shires gan pause: And musing on the inward griefe that nipt him at the hart, Did shape him aunswere thus: O Prince vouchsafe to take my part In this same godly warre of mine: assist me in the just Revengement of my murthred sonne that sleepeth in the dust. I crave your comfort for his death. Aeginas sonne replide: Thy suite is vaine: and of my Realme perforce must be denide. For unto Athens is no lande more sure than this alide: Such leagues betweene us are which shall infringde for me abide. Away went Minos sad: and said: full dearly shalt thou bie Thy leagues. He thought it for to be a better pollicie To threaten war than war to make, and there to spend his store And strength which in his other needes might much availe him more. As yet might from Oenopia walles the Cretish fleete be kend. When thitherward with puffed sayles and wind at will did tend A ship from Athens, which anon arriving at the strand Set Cephal with Ambassade from his Countrimen aland. The Kings three sonnes though long it were since last they had him seene, Yet knew they him. And after olde acquaintance eft had beene Renewde by shaking hands, to Court they did him streight convay. This Prince which did allure the eyes of all men by the way, As in whose stately person still remained to be seene The markes of beautie which in flowre of former yeares had beene, Went holding out an Olife braunch that grew in Atticke lande And for the reverence of his age there went on eyther hand A Nobleman of yonger yeares. Sir Clytus on the right And Butes on the left, the sonnes of one that Pallas hight. When greeting first had past betweene these Nobles and the King, Then Cephal setting streight abroche the message he did bring, Desired aide: and shewde what leagues stoode then in force betweene His countrie and the Aeginites, and also what had beene Decreed betwixt their aunceters, concluding in the ende That under colour of this war which Minos did pretende To only Athens, he in deede the conquest did intende Of all Achaia. When he thus by helpe of learned skill His countrie message furthred had, King Aeacus leaning still His left hand on his scepter, saide: My Lordes, I would not have Your state of Athens seeme so straunge as succor here to crave. I pray commaund. For be ye sure that what this Ile can make Is yours. Yea all that ere I have shall hazard for your sake. I want no strength. I have such store of souldiers, that I may Both vex my foes and also keepe my Realme in quiet stay. And now I thinke me blest of God that time doth serve to showe Without excuse the great good will that I to Athens owe. God holde it sir (quoth Cephalus) God make the number grow Of people in this towne of yours: it did me good alate When such a goodly sort of youth of all one age and rate Did meete me in the streete. But yet me thinkes that many misse Which at my former being here I have beheld ere this. At that the King did sigh, and thus with plaintfull voice did say: A sad beginning afterward in better lucke did stay. I would I plainly could the same before your faces lay. Howbeit I will disorderly repeate it as I may. And lest I seeme to wearie you with overlong delay, The men that you so mindefully enquire for lie in ground And nought of them save bones and dust remayneth to be found. But as it hapt what losse thereby did unto me redound? A cruell plague through Junos wrath who dreadfully did hate This Land that of hir husbands Love did take the name alate, Upon my people fell: as long as that the maladie None other seemde than such as haunts mans nature usually, And of so great mortalitie the hurtfull cause was hid, We strove by Phisicke of the same the Pacients for to rid. The mischief overmaistred Art: yea Phisick was to seeke To doe it selfe good. First the Aire with foggie stinking reeke Did daily overdreepe the earth: and close culme Clouds did make The wether faint: and while the Moone foure times hir light did take And fillde hir emptie homes therewith, and did as often slake: The warme South windes with deadly heate continually did blow. Infected were the Springs, and Ponds, and streames that ebbe and flow. And swarmes of Serpents crawld about the fieldes that lay untillde Which with their poison even the brookes and running water fillde. In sodaine dropping downe of Dogs, of Horses, Sheepe and Kine, Of Birds and Beasts both wild and tame as Oxen, Wolves, and Swine, The mischiefe of this secret sore first outwardly appeeres. The wretched Plowman was amazde to see his sturdie Steeres Amid the furrow sinking downe ere halfe his worke was donne. Whole flocks of sheepe did faintly bleate, and therewithall begonne Their fleeces for to fall away and leave the naked skin, And all their bodies with the rot attainted were within. The lustie Horse that erst was fierce in field renowne to win Against his kinde grew cowardly: and now forgetting quight The auncient honor which he preast so oft to get in fight, Stoode sighing sadly at the Racke as wayting for to yeelde His wearie life without renowne of combat in the fielde. The Boare to chafe, the Hinde to runne, the cruell Beare to fall Upon the herdes of Rother beastes had now no lust at all. A languishing was falne on all. In wayes, in woods, in plaines, The filthie carions lay, whose stinche, the Ayre it selfe distaines. (A wondrous thing to tell) not Dogges, not ravening Foules, nor yit Horecoted Wolves would once attempt to tast of them a bit. Looke, where they fell, there rotted they: and with their savor bred More harme, and further still abrode the foule infection spred. With losse that touched yet more nere, on Husbandmen it crept, And ragingly within the walles of this great Citie stept. It tooke men first with swelting heate that scalt their guts within: The signes whereof were steaming breath and firie colourde skin. The tongue was harsh and swolne, the mouth through drought of burning veines Lay gaping up to hale in breath, and as the pacient streines To draw it in, he suckes therewith corrupted Aire beside. No bed, no clothes though nere so thinne the pacients could abide. But laide their hardened stomackes flat against the bare colde ground Yet no abatement of the heate therein their bodies found: But het the earth, and as for Leache was none that helpe could hight. The Surgians and Phisitions too were in the selfesame plight. Their curelesse cunning hurt themselves. The nerer any man Approcheth his diseased friend, and doth the best he can To succor him most faithfully, the sooner did he catch His bane. All hope of health was gone. No easment nor dispatch Of this disease except in death and buriall did they finde. Looke, whereunto that eche mans minde and fancie was enclinde, That followed he. He never past what was for his behoofe. For why? that nought could doe them good was felt too much by proofe. In everie place without respect of shame or honestie At Wels, at brookes, at ponds, at pits, by swarmes they thronging lie: But sooner might they quench their life than staunch their thirst thereby. And therewithall so heavie and unwieldie they become, That wanting power to rise againe, they died there. Yet some The selfesame waters guzled still without regard of feare, So weary of their lothsome beds the wretched people were, That out they lept: or if to stand their feeble force denide, They wallowed downe and out of doores immediatly them hide: It was a death to every man his owne house to abide. And for they did not know the cause whereof the sicknesse came, The place (bicause they did it know) was blamed for the same. Ye should have seene some halfe fordead go plundring here and there By highways sides while that their legges were able them to beare. And some lie weeping on the ground or rolling piteously Their wearie eyes which afterwards should never see the Skie: Or stretching out their limmes to Heaven that overhangs on hie, Some here, some there, and yonder some, in what so ever coste Death finding them enforced them to yeelde their fainting Ghoste. What heart had I, suppose you, then, or ought I then to have? In faith I might have lothde my life, and wisht me in my grave As other of my people were. I could not cast mine eie In any place, but that dead folke there strowed I did spie Even like as from a shaken twig when rotten Apples drop, Or Mast from Beches, Holmes or Okes when Poales doe scare their top. Yon stately Church with greeces long against our Court you see: It is the shrine of Jupiter. What Wight was he or shee That on those Altars burned not their frankincense in vaine? How oft, yet even with Frankincense that partly did remaine Still unconsumed in their hands, did die both man and wife, As ech of them with mutuall care did pray for others life? How often dyde the mother there in suing for hir sonne, Unheard upon the Altarstone, hir prayer scarce begonne? How often at the Temple doore even while the Priest did bid His Beades, and poure pure wine betwene their homes, at sodaine slid The Oxen downe without stroke given? Yea once when I had thought My selfe by offring sacrifice Joves favor to have sought, For me, my Realme, and these three ymps, the Oxe with grievous grone Upon the sodaine sunke me downe: and little bloud or none Did issue scarce to staine the knife with which they slit his throte. The sickly inwardes eke had lost the signes whereby we note What things the Gods for certaintie would warne us of before: For even the verie bowels were attainted with the sore. Before the holie Temple doores, and (that the death might bee The more dispitefull) even before the Altars did I see The stinking corses scattred. Some with haltars stopt their winde, By death expulsing feare of death: and of a wilfull minde Did haste their ende, which of it selfe was coming on apace. The bodies which the plague had slaine were (O most wretched case) Not caried forth to buriall now. For why such store there was That scarce the gates were wyde inough for Coffins forth to passe. So eyther lothly on the ground unburied did they lie, Or else without solemnitie were burnt in bonfires hie. No reverence nor regard was had. Men fell togither by The eares for firing. In the fire that was prepared for one Another straungers corse was burnt. And lastly few or none Were left to mourne. The sillie soules of Mothers with their small And tender babes, and age with youth as Fortune did befall Went wandring gastly up and downe unmourned for at all. In fine so farre outrageously this helpelesse Murren raves, There was not wood inough for fire, nor ground inough for graves. Astonied at the stourenesse of so stout a storme of ills I said: O father Jupiter whose mightie power fulfills Both Heaven and Earth, if flying fame report thee not amisse In vouching that thou didst embrace in way of Love ere this The River Asops daughter, faire Aegina even by name, And that to take me for thy sonne thou count it not a shame: Restore thou me my folke againe, or kill thou me likewise. He gave a signe by sodaine flash of lightning from the Skies, And double peale of Thundercracks. I take this same (quoth I) And as I take it for a true and certaine signe whereby Thou doest confirme me for thy sonne: so also let it be A hansell of some happie lucke thou mindest unto me. Hard by us as it hapt that time, there was an Oken tree With spreaded armes as bare of boughes as lightly one shall see. This tree (as all the rest of Okes) was sacred unto Jove And sprouted of an Acorne which was fet from Dodon grove. Here markt we how the pretie Ants, the gatherers up of graine, One following other all along in order of a traine, Great burthens in their little mouthes did painfully sustaine: And nimbly up the rugged barke their beaten path maintaine. As wondring at the swarme I stoode, I said: O father deere As many people give thou me, as Ants are creeping heere. And fill mine empty walles againe. Anon the Oke did quake, And unconstreynde of any blast, his loftie braunches shake, The which did yeeld a certaine sound. With that for dreadfull feare A shuddring through my bodie strake and up stoode stiffe my heare. But yet I kissed reverently the ground and eke the tree. Howbeit I durst not be so bolde of hope acknowne to bee. Yet hoped I: and in my heart did shroude my secret hope. Anon came night: and sleepe upon my carefull carcasse crope. Me thought I saw the selfesame Oke with all his boughes and twigs, And all the Pismeres creeping still upon his tawnts and sprigs, Which trembling with a sodaine brayd these Harvest folke off threw And shed them on the ground about, who on the sodaine grew In bignesse more and more, and from the earth themselves did lift: And stoode upright against the tree: and therewithall did shift Their maygernesse, and coleblacke hue, and number of their feete: And clad their limmes with shape of man. Away my sleepe did fleete. And when I wooke, misliking of my dreame I made my mone That in the Gods I did perceive but slender helpe or none. But straight much trampling up and downe and shuffling did I heare, And (which to me that present time did verie straunge appeare) Of people talking in my house me thought I heard the reare. Now while I musing on the same supposde it to have been Some fancie of the foolish dreame which lately I had seen, Behold, in comes me Telamon in hast, and thrusting ope My Chamber doore, said: Sir, a sight of things surmounting hope And credit shall you have: come forth. Forth came I by and by And even such men for all the world there standing did I spie As in my sleepe I dreamed of, and knew them for the same. They comming to me greeted me, their sovereigne Lord, by name. And I (my vowes to Jove performde) my Citie did devide Among my new inhabiters: and gave them land beside Which by decease of such as were late owners of the same Lay wast. And in remembrance of the race whereof they came, The name of Emets I them gave. Their persons you have seen: Their disposition is the same that erst in them hath been. They are a sparing kinde of folke, on labor wholy set, A gatherer, and a hoorder up of such as they doe get. These fellowes being like in yeares and courage of the minde, Shall go a warfare ny as soone as that the Easterne winde Which brought you hither luckely, (the Easterne winde was it That brought them thither) turning, to the Southerne coast doe flit. With this and other such like talke they brought the day to ende. The Even in feasting, and the night in sleeping they did spende. The Sunne next Morrow in the heaven with golden beames did burne, And still the Easterne winde did blow and hold them from returne. Sir Pallas sonnes to Cephal came (for he their elder was) And he and they to Aeacus Court togither forth did passe. The King as yet was fast asleepe. Duke Phocus at the gate Did meete them, and receyved them according to their state. For Telamon and Peleus alreadie forth were gone, To muster Souldiers for the warres. So Phocus all alone Did leade them to an inner roume, where goodly Parlours were, And caused them to sit them downe. As he was also there Now sitting with them, he beheld a Dart in Cephals hand With golden head, the stele whereof he well might understand Was of some straunge and unknowne tree. When certain talke had past A while of other matters there, I am (quoth he) at last A man that hath delight in woods and loves to follow game And yet I am not able sure by any meanes to ame What wood your Javeling stele is of. Of Ash it can not bee. For then the colour should be browne. And if of Cornell tree, It would be full of knubbed knots. I know not what it is: But sure mine eies did never see a fairer Dart than this. The one of those same brethren twaine replying to him said: Nay then the speciall propertie will make you more dismaid, Than doth the beautie of this Dart. It hitteth whatsoever He throwes it at. The stroke thereof by Chaunce is ruled never. For having done his feate, it flies all bloudie backe agen Without the helpe of any hand. The Prince was earnest then To know the truth of all: as whence so riche a present came, Who gave it him, and whereupon the partie gave the same. Duke Cephal answerde his demaund in all points (one except) The which (as knowne apparantly) for shame he overlept: His beautie namely, for the which he did receive the Dart. And for the losse of his deare wife right pensive at the hart, He thus began with weeping eies: This Dart, O Goddesse sonne, (Ye ill would thinke it) makes me yirne, and long shall make me donne, If long the Gods doe give me life. This weapon hath undonne My deare beloved wife and me. O would to God this same Had never unto me bene given. There was a noble Dame That Procris hight (but you perchaunce have oftner heard the name Of great Orythia whose renowne was bruited so by fame, That blustring Boreas ravisht hir.) To this Orythia shee Was sister. If a bodie should compare in ech degree The face and natures of them both, he could none other deeme But Procris worthier of the twaine of ravishment should seeme. Hir father and our mutuall love did make us man and wife. Men said I had (and so I had in deede) a happie life. Howbeit Gods will was otherwise, for had it pleased him Of all this while, and even still yet in pleasure should I swim. The second Month that she and I by band of lawfull bed Had joynde togither bene, as I my masking Toyles did spred, To overthrow the horned Stags, the early Morning gray Then newly having chased night and gun to breake the day, From Mount Hymettus highest tops that freshly flourish ay, Espide me, and against my will conveyde me quight away. I trust the Goddesse will not be offended that I say The troth of hir. Although it would delight one to beholde Hir ruddie cheekes: although of day and night the bounds she holde: Although on juice of Ambrosie continually she feede: Yet Procris was the only Wight that I did love in deede. On Procris only was my heart: none other word had I But Procris only in my mouth: still Procris did I crie. I upned what a holy thing was wedlocke: and how late It was ago since she and I were coupled in that state. Which band (and specially so soone) it were a shame to breake. The Goddesse being moved at the words that I did speake, Said: Cease thy plaint, thou Carle, and keepe thy Procris still for me. But (if my minde deceyve me not) the time will shortly be That wish thou wilt thou had hir not. And so in anger she To Procris sent me backe againe. In going homeward as Upon the Goddesse sayings with my selfe I musing was, I gan to dreade bad measures lest my wife had made some scape. Hir youthfull yeares begarnished with beautie, grace and shape, In maner made me to beleve the deede already done. Againe hir maners did forbid mistrusting over soone. But I had bene away: but even the same from whom I came A shrewde example gave how lightly wives doe run in blame: But we poore Lovers are afraide of all things. Hereupon I thought to practise feates: which thing repented me anon: And shall repent me while I live. The purpose of my drifts Was for t'assault hir honestie with great rewards and gifts. The Morning fooding this my feare, to further my device, My shape (which thing me thought I felt) had altered with a trice. By meanes whereof anon unknowne to Pallas towne I came, And entred so my house: the house was clearely voide of blame: And shewed signes of chastitie in mourning ever sith Their maister had bene rapt away. A thousand meanes wherewith To come to Procris speach had I devisde: and scarce at last Obteinde I it. As soone as I mine eie upon hir cast, My wits were ravisht in such wise that nigh I had forgot The purposde triall of hir troth. Right much adoe God wot I had to holde mine owne that I the truth bewrayed not. To keepe my selfe from kissing hir full much adoe I had As reason was I should have done. She looked verie sad. And yet as sadly as she lookte, no Wight alive can show A better countenance than did she. Hir heart did inward glow In longing for hir absent spouse. How beautifull a face Thinke you, Sir Phocus, was in hir whome sorrow so did grace? What should I make report how oft hir chast behaviour strave And overcame most constantly the great assaults I gave? Or tell how oft she shet me up with these same words? To one (Where ere he is) I keepe my selfe, and none but he alone Shall sure enjoy the use of me. What creature having his Wits perfect would not be content with such a proofe as this Of hir most stedfast chastitie? I could not be content: But still to purchase to my selfe more wo I further went. At last by profering endlesse welth, and heaping gifts on gifts, In overlading hir with wordes I drave hir to hir shifts. Then cride I out: Thine evill heart my selfe I tardie take. Where of a straunge advouterer the countenance I did make, I am in deede thy husband. O unfaithfull woman thou, Even I my selfe can testifie thy lewde behavior now. She made none answere to my words, but being stricken dum And with the sorrow of hir heart alonly overcum, Forsaketh hir entangling house, and naughtie husband quight: And hating all the sort of men by reason of the spight That I had wrought hir, straide abrode among the Mountaines hie, And exercisde Dianas feates. Then kindled by and by A fiercer fire within my bones than ever was before, When she had thus forsaken me by whome I set such store. I prayde hir she woulde pardon me, and did confesse my fault. Affirming that my selfe likewise with such a great assault Of richesse might right well have bene enforst to yeelde to blame, The rather if performance had ensewed of the same. When I had this submission made, and she sufficiently Revengde hir wronged chastitie, she then immediatly Was reconcilde: and afterward we lived many a yeare In joy and never any jarre betweene us did appeare. Besides all this (as though hir love had bene too small a gift) She gave me eke a goodly Grewnd which was of foote so swift, That when Diana gave him hir, she said he should outgo All others, and with this same Grewnd she gave this Dart also The which you see I hold in hand. Perchaunce ye faine would know What fortune to the Grewnd befell. I will unto you show A wondrous case. The straungenesse of the matter will you move. The krinkes of certaine Prophesies surmounting farre above The reach of auncient wits to read, the Brookenymphes did expound: And mindlesse of hir owne darke doubts Dame Themis being found, Was as a rechelesse Prophetisse throwne flat against the ground. For which presumptuous deede of theirs she tooke just punishment. To Thebes in Baeotia streight a cruell beast she sent, Which wrought the bane of many a Wight. The countryfolk did feed Him with their cattell and themselves, untill (as was agreed) That all we youthfull Gentlemen that dwelled there about Assembling pitcht our corded toyles the champion fields throughout. But Net ne toyle was none so hie that could his wightnesse stop, He mounted over at his ease the highest of the top. Then everie man let slip their Grewnds, but he them all outstript And even as nimbly as a birde in daliance from them whipt. Then all the field desired me to let my Laelaps go: (The Grewnd that Procris unto me did give was named so) Who strugling for to wrest his necke already from the band Did stretch his collar. Scarsly had we let him off of hand But that where Laelaps was become we could not understand. The print remained of his feete upon the parched sand, But he was clearly out of sight. Was never Dart I trow, Nor Pellet from enforced Sling, nor shaft from Cretish bow, That flew more swift than he did runne. There was not farre fro thence About the middle of the Laund a rising ground, from whence A man might overlooke the fieldes. I gate me to the knap Of this same hill, and there beheld of this straunge course the hap In which the beast seemes one while caught, and ere a man would think, Doth quickly give the Grewnd the slip, and from his bighting shrink: And like a wilie Foxe he runnes not forth directly out, Nor makes a windlasse over all the champion fieldes about, But doubling and indenting still avoydes his enmies lips, And turning short, as swift about as spinning wheele he whips, To disapoint the snatch. The Grewnd pursuing at an inch Doth cote him, never losing ground: but likely still to pinch Is at the sodaine shifted off. Continually he snatches In vaine: for nothing in his mouth save only Aire he latches. Then thought I for to trie what helpe my Dart at neede could show. Which as I charged in my hand by levell aime to throw, And set my fingars to the thongs, I lifting from bylow Mine eies, did looke right forth againe, and straight amids the field (A wondrous thing) two Images of Marble I beheld: Of which ye would have thought the t'one had fled on still apace And that with open barking mouth the tother did him chase. In faith it was the will of God (at least if any Goddes Had care of them) that in their pace there should be found none oddes. Thus farre: and then he held his peace. But tell us ere we part (Quoth Phocus) what offence or fault committed hath your Dart? His Darts offence he thus declarde: My Lorde, the ground of all My grief was joy. Those joyes of mine remember first I shall. It doth me good even yet to thinke upon that blissfull time ( meane the fresh and lustie yeares of pleasant youthfull Prime) When I a happie man enjoyde so faire and good a wife, And she with such a loving make did lead a happie life. The care was like of both of us, the mutuall love all one. She would not to have line with Jove my presence have forgone. Ne was there any Wight that could of me have wonne the love, No though Dame Venus had hir selfe descended from above. The glowing brands of love did burne in both our brests alike. Such time as first with crased beames the Sunne is wont to strike The tops of Towres and mountaines high, according to the wont Of youthfull men, in woodie Parkes I went abrode to hunt. But neither horse nor Hounds to make pursuit upon the scent. Nor Servingman, nor knottie toyle before or after went, For I was safe with this same Dart. When wearie waxt mine arme With striking Deere, and that the day did make me somewhat warme, Withdrawing for to coole my selfe I sought among the shades For Aire that from the valleyes colde came breathing in at glades. The more excessive was my heate the more for Aire I sought. I waited for the gentle Aire: the Aire was that that brought Refreshing to my wearie limmes. And (well I bear't in thought) Come Aire I wonted was to sing, come ease the paine of me Within my bosom lodge thy selfe most welcome unto me, And as thou heretofore art wont abate my burning heate. By chaunce (such was my destinie) proceeding to repeate Mo words of daliance like to these, I used for to say Great pleasure doe I take in thee: for thou from day to day Doste both refresh and nourish me. Thou makest me delight In woods and solitarie grounds. Now would to God I might Receive continuall at my mouth this pleasant breath of thine. Some man (I wote not who) did heare these doubtfull words of mine, And taking them amisse supposde that this same name of Aire The which I callde so oft upon, had bene some Ladie faire: He thought that I had lovde some Nymph. And thereupon streight way He runnes me like a Harebrainde blab to Procris, to bewray This fault as he surmised it: and there with lavish tung Reported all the wanton words that he had heard me sung. A thing of light beliefe is love. She (as I since have harde) For sodeine sorrow swounded downe: and when long afterwarde She came againe unto hir selfe, she said she was accurst And borne to cruell destinie: and me she blamed wurst For breaking faith: and freating at a vaine surmised shame She dreaded that which nothing was: she fearde a headlesse name. She wist not what to say or thinke. The wretch did greatly feare Deceit: yet could she not beleve the tales that talked were. Onlesse she saw hir husbands fault apparant to hir eie, She thought she would not him condemne of any villanie. Next day as soone as Morning light had driven the night away, I went abrode to hunt againe: and speeding, as I lay Upon the grasse, I said: Come, Aire, and ease my painfull heate. And on the sodaine as I spake there seemed for to beate A certaine sighing in mine eares of what I could not gesse. But ceasing not for that I still proceeded nathelesse: And said, O come, most pleasant Aire. With that I heard a sound Of russling softly in the leaves that lay upon the ground. And thinking it had bene some beast I threw my flying Dart. It was my wife. Who being now sore wounded at the hart, Cride out, Alas. As soone as I perceyved by the shrieke It was my faithfull spouse, I ran me to the voiceward lieke A madman that had lost his wits. There found I hir halfe dead, Hir scattred garments staining in the bloud that she had bled, And (wretched creature as I am) yet drawing from the wound The gift that she hir selfe had given. Then softly from the ground I lifted up that bodie of hirs of which I was more chare Than of mine owne, and from hir brest hir clothes in hast I tare. And binding up hir cruell wound I strived for to stay The bloud, and prayd she would not thus by passing so away Forsake me as a murtherer: she waxing weake at length And drawing to hir death apace, enforced all hir strength To utter these few wordes at last: I pray thee humbly by Our bond of wedlocke, by the Gods as well above the Skie As those to whome I now must passe, as ever I have ought Deserved well by thee, and by the Love which having brought Me to my death doth even in death unfaded still remaine, To nestle in thy bed and mine let never Aire obtaine. This sed, she held hir peace, and I perceyved by the same And tolde hir also how she was beguiled in the name. But what avayled telling then? she quoathde: and with hir bloud Hir little strength did fade. Howbeit as long as that she coud See ought, she stared in my face and gasping still on me Even in my mouth she breathed forth hir wretched ghost. But she Did seeme with better cheare to die for that hir conscience was Discharged quight and cleare of doubtes. Now in conclusion as Duke Cephal weeping told this tale to Phocus and the rest Whose eyes were also moyst with teares to heare the pitious gest, Behold King Aeacus and with him his eldest sonnes both twaine Did enter in and after them there followed in a traine Of well appointed men of warre new levied: which the King Delivered unto Cephalus to Athens towne to bring. The day starre now beginning to disclose the Morning bright And for to dense the droupie Skie from darkenesse of the night, The Easterne wind went downe and flakes of foggie Clouds gan show, And from the South a merrie gale on Cephals sayles did blow. The which did hold so fresh and large, that he and all his men Before that he was looked for arrived safe agen In wished Haven. In that while King Minos with his fleete Did waste the cost of Megara. And first he thought it meete To make a triall of the force and courage of his men Against the towne Alcathoe where Nisus reigned then. Among whose honorable haire that was of colour gray, One scarlet haire did grow upon his crowne, whereon the stay Of all his Kingdome did depende. Sixe times did Phoebe fill Hir homes with borrowed light, and yet the warre hung wavering still In fickle fortunes doubtfull scaales: and long with fleeting wings Betwene them both flew victorie. A Turret of the Kings Stood hard adjoyning to the Wall which being touched rings, For Phoebus (so men say) did lay his golden Violl there, And so the stones the sound thereof did ever after beare. King Nisus daughter oftentimes resorted to this Wall And strake it with a little stone to raise the sound withall, In time of peace. And in the warre she many a time and oft Behelde the sturdie stormes of Mars from that same place aloft. And by continuance of the siege the Captaines names she knew, Their armes, horse, armor and aray in everie band and crew. Bit specially above the rest she noted Minos face. She knew inough and more than was inough as stoode the case. For were it that he hid his head in Helme with fethered crest, To hir opinion in his Helme he stayned all the rest. Or were it that he tooke in hand of steele his target bright, She thought in weelding of his shielde he was a comly Knight. Or were it that he raisde his arme to throw the piercing Dart, The Ladie did commend his force and manhode joynde with Art. Or drew he with his arrow nockt his bended Bow in hand She sware that so in all respectes was Phoebus wont to stand. But when he shewde his visage bare, his Helmet laid aside, And on a Milke white Steede brave trapt, in Purple Robe did ride, She scarce was Mistresse of hir selfe, hir wits were almost straught. A happie Dart she thought it was that he in fingars caught, And happie called she those reynes that he in hand had raught. And if she might have had hir will, she could have founde in hart, Among the enmies to have gone. She could have found in hart, From downe the highest Turret there hir bodie to have throwne, Among the thickest of the Tents of Gnossus to have flowne, Or for to ope the brazen gates and let the enmie in, Or whatsoever else she thought might Minos favor win. And as she sate beholding still the King of Candies tent, She said: I doubt me whether that I rather may lament Or of this wofull warre be glad. It grieves me at the hart That thou O Minos unto me thy Lover enmie art. But had not this same warfare bene, I never had him knowne. Yet might he leave this cruell warre, and take me as his owne. A wife, a feere, a pledge for peace he might receive of me. O flowre of beautie, O thou Prince most pearlesse: if that she That bare thee in hir wombe were like in beautie unto thee, A right good cause had Jove on hir enamored for to bee. Oh happie were I if with wings I through the Aire might glide And safely to King Minos Tent from this same Turret slide. Then would I utter who I am, and how the firie flame Of Cupid burned in my brest, desiring him to name What dowrie he would aske with me in loan of his love, Save only of my Fathers Realme no question he should move. For rather than by traitrous meanes my purpose should take place, Adue, desire of hoped Love. Yet oftentimes such grace Hath from the gentle Conqueror proceeded erst, that they Which tooke the foyle have found the same their profit and their stay. Assuredly the warre is just that Minos takes in hand, As in revengement of his sonne late murthered in this land. And as his quarrell seemeth just, even so it cannot faile, But rightfull warre against the wrong must (I beleve) prevaile. Now if this Citie in the ende must needes be taken, why Should his owne sworde and not my Love be meanes to win it by? It were yet better he should speede by gentle meanes without The slaughter of his people, yea and (as it may fall out) With spending of his owne bloud too. For sure I have a care O Minos lest some Souldier wound thee ere he be aware. For who is he in all the world that hath so hard a hart That wittingly against thy head would aime his cruell Dart? I like well this devise, and on this purpose will I stand: To yeelde my selfe endowed with this Citie to the hand Of Minos: and in doing so to bring this warre to ende. But smally it availeth me the matter to intende. The gates and yssues of this towne are kept with watch and warde, And of the Keyes continually my Father hath the garde. My Father only is the man of whome I stand in dreede, My Father only hindreth me of my desired speede. Would God that I were Fatherlesse. Tush, everie Wight may bee A God as in their owne behalfe, and if their hearts be free From fearefulnesse. For fortune works against the fond desire Of such as through faint heartednesse attempt not to aspire. Some other feeling in hir heart such flames of Cupids fire Already would have put in proofe some practise to destroy What thing so ever of hir Love the furtherance might anoy And why should any woman have a bolder heart than I? Through fire and sword I boldly durst adventure for to flie. And yet in this behalfe at all there needes no sword nor fire, There needeth but my fathers haire to accomplish my desire. I That Purple haire of his to me more precious were than golde: That Purple haire of his would make me blest a thousand folde: That haire would compasse my desire and set my heart at rest. Night (chiefest Nurce of thoughts to such as are with care opprest) Approched while she spake these words, and darknesse did encrease Hir boldnesse. At such time as folke are wont to finde release Of cares that all the day before were working in their heds, By sleepe which falleth first of all upon them in their beds, Hir fathers chamber secretly she entered: where (alasse That ever Maiden should so farre the bounds of Nature passe) She robde hir Father of the haire upon the which the fate Depended both of life and death and of his royall state. And joying in hir wicked prey, she beares it with hir so As if it were some lawfull spoyle acquired of the fo. And passing through a posterne gate she marched through the mid Of all hir enmies (such a trust she had in that she did) Untill she came before the King, whom troubled with the sight She thus bespake: Enforst, O King, by love against all right I Scylla, Nisus daughter, doe present unto thee heere My native soyle, my household Gods, and all that else is deere For this my gift none other thing in recompence I crave Than of thy person which I love, fruition for to have. And in assurance of my love receyve thou here of mee My fathers Purple haire: and thinke I give not unto thee A haire but even my fathers head. And as these words she spake, The cursed gift with wicked hand she profered him to take. But Minos did abhorre hir gift: and troubled in his minde With straungenesse of the heynous act so sore against hir kinde, He aunswerde: O thou slaunder of our age, the Gods expell Thee out of all this world of theirs and let thee no where dwell. Let rest on neither Sea nor Land be graunted unto thee. Assure thy selfe that as for me I never will agree That Candie, Joves owne foster place (as long as I there raigne), Shall unto such a monstruous Wight a Harbrow place remaine. This said, he like a righteous Judge among his vanquisht foes Set order under paine of death. Which done he willed those That served him to go aboorde and Anchors up to wey. When Scylla saw the Candian fleete aflote to go away, And that the Captaine yeelded not so good reward as shee Had for hir lewdnesse looked for: and when in fine she see That no entreatance could prevaile, then bursting out in ire With stretched hands and scattred haire, as furious as the fire She shraming cryed out aloud: And whither doste thou flie Rejecting me, the only meanes that thou hast conquerde by? O cankerde Churle preferde before my native soyle, preferd Before my father, whither flyste, O Carle of heart most hard? Whose conquest as it is my sinne, so doth it well deserve Reward of thee, for that my fault so well thy turne did serve. Doth neither thee the gift I gave, nor yet my faithfull love, Nor yet that all my hope on thee alonly rested, move? For whither shall I now resort forsaken thus of thee? To Megara the wretched soyle of my nativitie? Behold it lieth vanquished and troden under foote. But put the case it flourisht still: yet could it nothing boote. I have foreclosde it to my selfe through treason when I gave My fathers head to thee. Whereby my countriefolke I drave To hate me justly for my crime. And all the Realmes about My lewde example doe abhorre. Thus have I shet me out Of all the world that only Crete might take me in, which if Thou like a Churle denie, and cast me up without relief, The Ladie Europ surely was not mother unto thee: But one of Affricke Sirts where none but Serpents fostred bee, But even some cruell Tiger bred in Armen or in Inde, Or else the Gulfe Charybdis raisde with rage of Southerne winde. Thou wert not got by Jove: ne yet thy mother was beguilde In shape of Bull: of this thy birth the tale is false compilde. But rather some unwieldie Bull even altogither wilde That never lowed after Cow was out of doubt thy Sire. O father Nisus, put thou me to penance for my hire. Rejoyce thou in my punishment, thou towne by me betrayd. I have deserved (I confesse) most justly to be payd With death. But let some one of them that through my lewdnesse smart Destroy me, why doste thou that by my crime a gainer art, Commit like crime thy selfe? Admit this wicked act of me As to my land and Fatherward in deede most hainous be. Yet oughtest thou to take it as a friendship unto thee. But she was meete to be thy wife, that in a Cow of tree Could play the Harlot with a Bull, and in hir wombe could beare A Barne, in whome the shapes of man and beasts confounded were. How sayst thou, Carle? compell not these my words thine eares to glow? Or doe the windes that drive thy shyps, in vaine my sayings blow? In faith it is no wonder though thy wife Pasiphae Preferrde a Bull to thee, for thou more cruell wert than he. Now wo is me. To make more hast it standeth me in hand. The water sounds with Ores, and hales from me and from my land. In vaine thou striveth, O thou Churle, forgetfull quight of my Desertes: for even in spight of thee pursue thee still will I. Upon thy courbed Keele will I take holde: and hanging so Be drawen along the Sea with thee where ever thou do go. She scarce had said these words, but that she leaped on the wave And getting to the ships by force of strength that Love hir gave Upon the King of Candies Keele in spight of him she clave. Whome when hir father spide (for now he hovered in the aire, And being made a Hobby Hauke did soare between a paire Of nimble wings of yron Mayle) he soused downe amaine To seaze upon hir as she hung, and would have tome hir faine With bowing Beake. But she for feare did let the Caricke go: And as she was about to fall, the lightsome Aire did so Uphold hir that she could not touch the Sea as seemed tho. Anon all fethers she became, and forth away did flie Transformed to a pretie Bird that stieth to the Skie. And for bicause like clipped haire hir head doth beare a marke, The Greekes it Cyris call, and we doe name the same a Larke. As soone as Minos came aland in Crete, he by and by Performde his vowes to Jupiter in causing for to die A hundred Bulles for sacrifice. And then he did adorne His Pallace with the enmies spoyles by conquest wonne beforne. The slaunder of his house encreast: and now appeared more The mothers filthie whoredome by the monster that she bore Of double shape, an ugly thing. This shamefull infamie, This monster borne him by his wife he mindes by pollicie To put away, and in a house with many nookes and krinks From all mens sights and speach of folke to shet it up he thinks. Immediatly one Daedalus renowmed in that lande For fine devise and workmanship in building, went in hand To make it. He confounds his worke with sodaine stops and stayes, And with the great uncertaintie of sundrie winding wayes Leades in and out, and to and fro, at divers doores astray. And as with trickling streame the Brooke Maeander seemes to play In Phrygia, and with doubtfull race runnes counter to and fro, And meeting with himselfe doth looke if all his streame or no Come after, and retiring eft cleane backward to his spring And marching eft to open Sea as streight as any string, Indenteth with reversed streame: even so of winding wayes Unnumerable Daedalus within his worke convayes. Yea scarce himselfe could find the meanes to winde himselfe well out: So busie and so intricate the house was all about. Within this Maze did Minos shet the Monster that did beare The shape of man and Bull. And when he twise had fed him there With bloud of Atticke Princes sonnes that given for tribute were, The third time at the ninth yeares end the lot did chaunce to light On Theseus, King Aegaeus sonne: who like a valiant Knight Did overcome the Minotaur: and by the pollicie Of Minos eldest daughter (who had taught him for to tie A clew of Linnen at the doore to guide himselfe thereby) As busie as the turnings were, his way he out did finde, Which never man had done before. And streight he having winde, With Minos daughter sailde away to Dia: where (unkinde And cruell creature that he was) he left hir post alone Upon the shore. Thus desolate and making dolefull mone God Bacchus did both comfort hir and take hir to his bed. And with an everlasting starre the more hir fame to spred, He tooke the Chaplet from hir head, and up to Heaven it threw. The Chaplet thirled through the Aire: and as it gliding flew, The precious stones were turnd to starres which biased cleare and bright, And tooke their place (continuing like a Chaplet still to sight) Amid betweene the Kneeler Downe and him that gripes the Snake. Now in this while gan Daedalus a wearinesse to take Of living like a banisht man and prisoner such a time In Crete, and longed in his heart to see his native Clime. But Seas enclosed him as if he had in prison be. Then thought he: though both Sea and Land King Minos stop fro me, I am assurde he cannot stop the Aire and open Skie. To make my passage that way then my cunning will I trie. Although that Minos like a Lord held all the world beside: Yet doth the Aire from Minos yoke for all men free abide. This sed: to uncoth Arts he bent the force of all his wits To alter natures course by craft. And orderly he knits A rowe of fethers one by one, beginning with the short, And overmatching still eche quill with one of longer sort, That on the shoring of a hill a man would thinke them grow. Even so the countrie Organpipes of Oten reedes ir row Ech higher than another rise. Then fastned he with Flax The middle quilles, and joyned in the lowest sort with Wax. And when he thus had finisht them, a little he them bent In compasse, that the verie Birdes they full might represent. There stoode me by him Icarus, his sonne, a pretie Lad. Who knowing not that he in handes his owne destruction had, With smiling mouth did one while blow the fethers to and fro Which in the Aire on wings of Birds did flask not long ago: And with his thumbes another while he chafes the yelow Wax And lets his fathers wondrous worke with childish toyes and knacks. As soon as that the worke was done, the workman by and by Did peyse his bodie on his wings, and in the Aire on hie Hung wavering: and did teach his sonne how he should also flie. I warne thee (quoth he), Icarus, a middle race to keepe. For if thou hold too low a gate, the dankenesse of the deepe Will overlade thy wings with wet. And if thou mount too hie, The Sunne will sindge them. Therfore see betweene them both thou flie. I bid thee not behold the Starre Bootes in the Skie. Nor looke upon the bigger Beare to make thy course thereby, Nor yet on Orions naked sword. But ever have an eie To keepe the race that I doe keepe, and I will guide thee right. In giving counsell to his sonne to order well his flight, He fastned to his shoulders twaine a paire of uncoth wings. And as he was in doing it and warning him of things, His aged cheekes were wet, his hands did quake, in fine he gave His sonne a kisse the last that he alive should ever have. And then he mounting up aloft before him tooke his way Right fearfull for his followers sake: as is the Bird the day That first she tolleth from hir nest among the braunches hie Hir tender yong ones in the Aire to teach them for to flie. So heartens he his little sonne to follow teaching him A hurtfull Art. His owne two wings he waveth verie trim, And looketh backward still upon his sonnes. The fishermen Then standing angling by the Sea, and shepeherdes leaning then On sheepehookes, and the Ploughmen on the handles of their Plough, Beholding them, amazed were: and thought that they that through The Aire could flie were Gods. And now did on their left side stand The Iles of Paros and of Dele and Samos, Junos land: And on their right, Lebinthos and the faire Calydna fraught With store of honie: when the Boy a frolicke courage caught To flie at randon. Whereupon forsaking quight his guide, Of fond desire to flie to Heaven, above his boundes he stide. And there the nerenesse of the Sunne which burnd more hote aloft, Did make the Wax (with which his wings were glewed) lithe and soft. As soone as that the Wax was molt, his naked armes he shakes, And wanting wherewithall to wave no helpe of Aire he takes. But calling on his father loud he drowned in the wave: And by this chaunce of his those Seas his name for ever have. His wretched Father (but as then no father) cride in feare: O Icarus, O Icarus, where art thou? tell me where That I may finde thee, Icarus. He saw the fethers swim Upon the waves, and curst his Art that so had spighted him. At last he tooke his bodie up and laid it in a grave, And to the Ile the name of him then buried in it gave. And as he of his wretched sonne the corse in ground did hide, The cackling Partrich from a thicke and leavie thorne him spide, And clapping with his wings for joy aloud to call began. There was of that same kinde of Birde no mo but he as than. In times forepast had none bene seene. It was but late anew Since he was made a bird: and that thou, Daedalus, mayst rew: For whyle the world doth last thy shame shall thereupon ensew. For why thy sister, ignorant of that which after hapt, Did put him to thee to be taught full twelve yeares old and apt To take instruction. He did marke the middle bone that goes Through fishes, and according to the paterne tane of those He filed teeth upon a piece of yron one by one And so devised first the Saw where erst was never none. Moreover he two yron shankes so joynde in one round head, That opening an indifferent space, the one point downe shall tread, And tother draw a circle round. The finding of these things, The spightfull heart of Daedalus with such a m lice stings, That headlong from the holy towre of Pallas downe he thrue His Nephew, feyning him to fall by chaunce, which was not true. But Pallas (who doth favour wits) did stay him in his fall And chaunging him into a Bird did clad him over all With fethers soft amid the Aire. The quicknesse of his wit (Which erst was swift) did shed it selfe among his wings and feete. And as he Partrich hight before, so hights he Partrich still. Yet mounteth not this Bird aloft ne seemes to have a will To build hir nest in tops of trees among the boughes on hie But flecketh nere the ground and layes hir egges in hedges drie. And forbicause hir former fall she ay in minde doth beare, She ever since all lofty things doth warely shun for feare. And now forwearied Daedalus alighted in the land Within the which the burning hilles of firie Aetna stand. To save whose life King Cocalus did weapon take in hand, For which men thought him merciful. And now with high renowne Had Theseus ceast the wofull pay of tribute in the towne Of Athens. Temples decked were with garlands every where, And supplications made to Jove and warlicke Pallas were, And all the other Gods, to whome more honor for to show, Gifts, blud of beasts, and frankincense the people did bestow As in performance of their vowes. The right redoubted name Of Theseus through the lande of Greece was spred by flying fame. And now the folke that in the land of rich Achaia dwelt, Praid him of succor in the harmes and perils that they felt. Although the land of Calydon had then Meleager: Yet was it faine in humble wise to Theseus to prefer A supplication for the aide of him. The cause wherfore They made such humble suit to him was this. There was a Bore The which Diana for to wreake hir wrath conceyvde before Had thither as hir servant sent the countrie for to waast. For men report that Oenie when he had in storehouse plaast The full encrease of former yeare, to Ceres did assigne The firstlings of his corne and fruits: to Bacchus, of the Wine: And unto Pallas Olife oyle. This honoring of the Gods Of graine and fruits who put their help to toyling in the clods, Ambitiously to all, even those that dwell in heaven did clime. Dia