Ovids festivalls, or, Romane calendar translated into English verse equinumerally, by John Gower ... — Fasti. English. 1640

Ovids festivalls, or, Romane calendar translated into English verse equinumerally, by John Gower ... — Fasti. English. 1640

Table of contents

Title page

To his much honoured and most Worthy friend Mr John Ethredge, Bachelour of Divinity, and Vicar of Halsted in Essex.

On Ovids Festivalls translated.

Upon the ingenious translation of Ovids Fasti, intituled, The Romane Calendar.

On the translation of Ovids Festivalls.

Ʋpon Mr Gower's smooth interpretation of the six books of Ovid's Fastorum.

The Life, Works, and Approof of OVID, Gathered out of his own works and the relations of divers faithfull Authours.

§

Ovid to Posteritie. Trist. IV. Eleg. X.

CLIO's complaint for the death of OVID.

OVIDS FESTIVALLS; OR, ROMANE CALENDAR. The first Book; or, JANUARIE.

OVIDS FESTIVALLS; OR, ROMANE CALENDAR. The second Book; or, FEBRUARIE.

OVIDS FESTIVALLS; OR, ROMANE CALENDAR. The third Book; or, MARCH.

OVIDS FESTIVALLS; OR, ROMANE CALENDAR. The fourth Book; or, APRIL.

OVIDS FESTIVALLS; OR, ROMANE CALENDAR. The fifth Book; or, MAY.

OVIDS FESTIVALLS; OR, ROMANE CALENDAR. The sixth Book; or, JUNE.

§

§

[Page]

[Page]

OVIDS FESTIVALLS, OR Romane Calendar, Translated into English verse equinumerally, By John Gower Master of Arts, and sometimes of Jesus Colledge in Cambridge.

Nasonem Nasus me fecit penè secundum:

De te, Lector, erit, si quo (que) penna facit.

Printed by Roger Daniel, Printer to the University of Cambridge. 1640.

To his much honoured and most Worthy friend Mr John Ethredge, Bachelour of Divinity, and Vicar of Halsted in Essex.

[Page]

[Page]

Reverend Sir,

I Am bold to present to your favourable acceptance and friendly patronage this worthy translation of Ovids Festivals. I will beg no pardon for my presumption herein, for that were to traduce a friendly office, and to question the candour of your ingenuous disposition. To you I commit this orphane Muse, which cannot die with the deceased Parent, but under your grave protection will grow up and flourish and wrestle with eternity. To my knowledge, the Authour of this Translation in the sincerity of his best affection [Page] alwayes honoured you, and I am confident that out of the ingagements of those respects he bare you, had dedicated this his ensuing work unto you, had Fate lent him longer life, as a pledge and testimony of his undissembled love. To you therefore, most worthy Sr, I send this his learned Posthume, which humbly imploreth your smile upon it and care over it, and that you would lovingly take it into the bosome of your courtesie and there cherish it. In so doing you shall engage the devoted gratitude of those friends it hath, and satisfie the earnest request of

Your most respective friend Edward Albiston.

On Ovids Festivalls translated.

[Page]

AS the well-bred Gentleman, whom Natures hand

Hath given a tast of something more then land,

Now travelling to studie and learn France,

Becomes their habits well, their mood and dance,

And, though translated hence from native place,

Reteins his vertue still with forrein grace,

And speaks the language in so quaint a phrase

That he both English doth and French amaze:

So here the Poet which is Sulmo 's fame

Keeps up in a strange dialect his name;

Cloth'd in the Britain garb and modest fashion

Looseth no vertue of the Latine nation,

But Arethusa-like, his purest strein

Preserves, though passing through the English vein.

So choice had his own words been, if worse meant,

The Sirens first had suffered banishment.

Well 'mongst the memorables this shall be

Involv'd in future ages registrie,

And give a note unto this year: Who e'r

Saw such good numbers in a Calendar?

So sweetly ranne those milkie streams of old,

When first the newborn world did shine with gold.

Such was the subtile thread Minerva spun

When she the garland from Arachne won.

So in the rainbow twisted colours shine,

Whose neat transition who can define?

Live then, our English Ovid; let thy fame

Mingle with Naso's, and become the same.

Challenge thy due: Others do not translate,

But strip their Authours and excoriate.

C. M.

Upon the ingenious translation of Ovids Fasti, intituled, The Romane Calendar.

[Page]

ON this book, Reader, lay thy hand and swear,

Ovid himself is Metamorphos'd here.

Was his old Romane gown thread-bare and old,

Whom thou hast rob'd in cloth of English gold?

'Twere infidelitie to think (I trow)

His Muse with golden feet a begging go.

Yet I admire at this unwonted store:

Poet had ne'r two suits at once before.

Who views these wel-form'd lines with judgement, shall

Think 't not translated but Originall:

'T is known what bloud by these most active strains

The Muse of Ovid carri'd in her veins.

Compare them both and you shall find it true,

The gold 's the same, but the impression 's new.

The noble heat of thy inspired brain

Tri'd, found it pure, and minted it again.

'Tis so true done, it seems in every line

Thy soul was in his breast, or his in thine.

He 's metempsychos'd, and these verses fame

Speak but old Ovid in a newer name.

O had my thoughts but seen the sense, when thine

Unti'd the knots of everie golden line,

I might have learn'd to make a verse by thee,

In viewing Wit in its Anatomie.

Thy modest Muse doth not know how to rore

Like a Xantippe or an Oyster whore.

[Page]Thy breath is short but sweet: It shews thy style

Runnes like smooth Helicon, not troubled Nile:

Not like bold ignorance, whose thundring words

Strike the sense dead, whose sawcie vein affords

Nothing but wind and storm, at length to have

Their wit o'rwhelmed in the troubled wave.

Now Ovid hath his wish, that he may be

In English read upon a Ladies knee.

The Romane Caesars plac'd their names upon

The gladded brow of everie crowned moon;

And to preserve their Saints deceased fames,

Into their Calendar enroll'd their names.

Thy name outfaceth all their glories; here

It fills a Calendar and crowns a Year.

'T is thou alone dost not subscribe to Fate:

Thy Calendar shall ne'r be out of Date.

Isaac Tinckler, Coll. G. & C.

On the translation of Ovids Festivalls.

[Page]

AM I awake! or do mine eyes put on

Some dreams phantastick apparition?

My fansie 's much perplex'd to find whe'r this

Be Ovid, or his Metamorphosis.

Just so the learned Romane us'd to talk,

With the same voice, with the same steps to walk.

Just so his Muse did flow, just in such state

Did sing, when he Romes Feasts did celebrate.

There 's not an accent from the Latine fell,

But here in English 't is express'd as well.

And I dare hardly call this a translation,

But the same Latine in the English fashion;

Deck'd in such neat attire, so rich, and dear

That Julia could not choose but love him here:

And angry Caesar needs must be content

His exil'd Muse to call from banishment.

Divine Translatour! tell me; Didst thou call

For Ovids ghost, that he might tell thee all

His well-spun lines could mean? or hast thou got

His very soul into thy brest? why not?

The wise Pythagoras held it might be;

And it is manifest in Sands and thee:

Whose quickning Muse and most miraculous pen

Have made deceased Ovid live agen.

Shine then three glorious starres with equall rayes:

And who have the same soul, wear the same bayes.

Villiers Harrington, Aul. Clar.

Ʋpon Mr Gower's smooth interpretation of the six books of Ovid's Fastorum.

[Page]

CLear was the shadow of the circling yeare

In th' embleme of an hooped snake: As clear

Was th' ancient Mystick's ring to represent

Heav'ns endlesse motion and time's sweet consent:

This was that reverend ring did conjugate

Dame Vesta to her starre-enamell'd mate.

For fear time 's harmony through pause should fail,

The yearly snake in 's teeth doth bite his tail.

This was that snake which Naso's Muse did strive

By her enchanting numbers to revive.

Event o'recame her wish; Her ring complete

She deck'd with native pearls of rich conceit.

Curs'd be that Ibis, whose devouring maw

Half of this snake ingorg'd, e're that it saw

Great Caesars face: thrice cursed be that wight

That half this ring deteins in base despite.

Perhaps this choler's rash: the Glutton Time

Himself perhaps did act this cursed crime;

The cormorant forgot ('t is like) what meat

Was in his jaws, and so himself did eat.

Hows'ere it was, this losse (w' are sure) will be

Cause of great grief to all posteritie.

They say that snakes divided live: O then

'T were good if that some nectar-steeped pen

Would cherish this half-fainting Serpent; so

This living part might for the whole one go.

This Gower hath done: by whose most sovereign skill

This snake hath stript his Romane skin; whose quill

[Page]Hath bravely cloth'd his back with English silk,

And fill'd his stinglesse mouth with Muses milk.

Each Ladie now will Cleopatra prove,

And yet ne'r hurt her self; each Queen will love

To feel this serpent in her bosome, yet

Ne'r shrike, but wear 't as some rare amulet.

Give me a second Gower, who thus can frame

Th' Years perfect ring; to him the coyest Dame

Would yield, to such a mate the chastest Muse

For such a ring to wed would not refuse.

Cease tedious Allegorie, cease, be plain;

In brief declare what we by Gower do gain.

Good 's better'd by diffus'd communitie,

Now Caesar's Calendar may th' Shepherds be.

Cu. Birstall, Coll. Regal. S [...].

The Life, Works, and Approof of OVID, Gathered out of his own works and the relations of divers faithfull Authours.

[Page]

P ƲB. Ovid, surnamed Naso (as is commonly supposed, from Nasus a Nose; because his nose did somewhat exceed the ordinary Romane dimensions. Others say that his family were called Nasones, from whom he took that surname: Which may very well be true, and yet no great contradiction; for doubtlesse Nasus is the Etymologie of Nasones: so that some of his predecessours, or himself, or peradventure both his progenitours and himself, had that extraordinary gift of a prodigall Nose. He) was born in Sulmo a town in Peligni the fourteenth of the Cal. of April,March 19. the second day of the great Quinquatrian feasts; that yeare wherein the Consuls Hircius and Pansa perished in the Mutinensian warre. His birth was gentile, his father being in the order of Knighthood; and so afterwards was himself. Come to years of discretion, he with his elder brother employed his studies under the most famous Grammarians and Rhetoricians in Rome: but specially himself was instructed by Plotius Grippo; and afterwards became in favour with M. Varro and Corn. Gallus. He bent his studies to the Law; yet more to please his father then his own fansie: where he defended criminall causes; and gave sentence among the Centumviri. [Page] His oratory was exquisite and excellent: and therefore not without good cause Seneca ranketh him among the best Oratours. At length, his father dying, he returned to his affected Muses, and became entirely acquainted with the Poets of those times, Macer Veronensis, who writ of Herbs, Birds, and Serpents; Ponticus, who penned Thebais; Propertius the Elegiack, Battus the Iambick, and Horace the Lyrick Poet. At last he followed the warres under M. Varro, and with him travelled into Asia; and before his return to Rome he had got no small acquaintance with the Greek tongue. He married three wives; but enjoyed not the two first very long: The last lived with him lovingly and constantly; to whom he expresseth much true affection in his Tristium and De Ponto, with many praises of her for her love, constancie, &c. By her he had one daughter named Perilla.

At length, in the fiftieth yeare of his age, he was banished by Augustus into Tomos among the barbarous nations of Scythia: Where, as some affirm, he continued till the ninth yeare, and then died: But his own writings make mention but of the seventh yeare: of which, within the first three years he wrote his Tristium, in the rest his De Ponto. For Trist. lib. 3. Eleg. 12. thus he sayeth,

Frigora jam Zephyri minuunt, anno (que) peracto

Tardior antiquis visa recedit hyems.

Mild Zephyr breaks the cold, a yeare is run,

And winter slowlier then it wont is gone.

By which words he sheweth that he had now lived a yeare in Pontus, and that that winter was much longer then the former which he spent in Rome. Afterward, lib. 4. Eleg. 6. See also Eleg. 7.

Ʋt patriâ careo, bis frugibus area trita est,

Dissiluit nudo pressa bis uva pede.

Since I my Countrey lost the floor hath gain'd

Two crops, & twice have grapes the winepresse stain'd.

[Page] Hence, lib. 5. Eleg. 11.

Ʋt sumus in Ponto, ter frigore constitit Ister,

Facta est Euxini dura ter unda maris.

Thrice hath the Euxine Sea and Ister been

Congeal'd to ice since Pontus first was seen.

By these may we collect that three years passed e're he ended his Tristium. In his books intituled De Ponto these following are to be read: lib. 1. Eleg. 1.

Hîc me pugnantem cum frigore cúm (que) sagittis

Cúm (que) meo salo quarta fatigat hyems.

Here this fourth winter me doth struggling hold

With my curst fate, with rattling arms, and cold.

And in this yeare was the triumph of Tiberius upon the Dalmatians and Illyrians, which he mentioneth in the first and second Elegies of the second Book. After this, Book 4. Eleg 6. he goeth on,

In Scythia nobis quinquennis Olympias acta:

Jam tempus lustrum transit in alterius.

Now have I pass'd in Scythia this fifth yeare;

And time begins another lustre here.

This yeare Augustus died, and Fabius Maximus also; whom he celebrateth among his speciall friends, which he mentioneth in the same Elegie. After this, Eleg. 10.

Haec mihi in Euxino bis tertia ducitur aestas

Littore, pellitos inter agenda Getas.

Among the skin-clad Gets in Euxine bay

At length the sixth yeare I have worn away.

The like Eleg. 13. of the same book. Nor doth he mention any longer time, except it be thus: In the beginning of the seventh yeare of his exile, in a congratulation of Lib. 4. Eleg. 9. Graecinus his Consulship, he mentioneth also the Consulship of Pompeius Flaccus brother to Graecinus, which was to ensue the next yeare after; to which time he seemeth to prophesie that he should not live. Wherefore this being the last yeare which he counteth and speaketh of, it is clear that he lived in Pontus but six [Page] yeare, though seven in relegation: For the first yeare he spent in his voyage. Beside, seeing that there is no mention made by him of the acts of Germanicus performed in these his last years against the Catti and Cherusci, (which he would never have omitted had life allowed him the fame of them, especially because he had prophetically forementioned his Triumph yet future,Lib. 2. Eleg. 1. and promised the celebration of it in a poeme if life gave leave, and moreover had dedicated to him his books intituled Fastorum in his exile) we may conclude he departed life within the seventh yeare, or at most in the beginning of his eighth, which the testimony of Eusebius further confirmeth.

The cause of his banishmentFor the cause of his banishment there may be many opinions. Some from the authority of Sidonius affirm that he had amorous dealings with Livia or Julia, daughter to Augustus, whom he masketh under the name of Corinna; and for this cause was punished. But if we well ponder the words of Sidonius concerning Ovid, we shall find it otherwise;

Et te carmina per libidinosa

Notum, Naso, Tomós (que) missum,

Quondam Caesareae nimis puellae

Falso nomine subditum Corinnae.

And thee too, wanton Naso, so renown'd

For amorous verses, and to Tomos bound,

Too much in love with that Caesarean Maid

With whom in false Corinna's name thou plaid.

Upon these last words, Caesareae puellae, they build their argument, opinionating that it was Caesars daughter. But it is well known that Puella doth not so well signifie Filia, a Daughter, or Neptis a Niece, as Ancilla a Maid: as Puer is used both by Poets and Oratours as well for a Servant as for a Sonne, or Young man; yea, rather more frequently: Which also Paulus Jurisconsultus sheweth in his De Verborum significatione. And [Page] therefore I rather conclude that he loved some (as I may so give the term) Lady of Honour in Caesars Court; and her he calleth Corinna. Besides, in his books Amorum, of which Corinna is the chief subject, there is no passage mentioned suitable to a Princesse. They go to the same supper: It is not likely that he should go with the Princesse. He wisheth many imprecations upon her husband: How should he dare to do it to Caesar! She cometh to him: This a Princesse would have been ashamed to have done; and many more of the like nature, which plainly prove it could not be the Princesse. Moreover, in all his writings, either in his Tristium or De Ponto, he maketh no complaint of Love, but of his Ars Amandi, nor uttereth any thing against his Love: and that which was the cause of his punishment he calleth an errour onely; no crime or dishonesty: as if he would have said, that by an errour he happened to discover anothers crime: Which, as some say, was his seeing Julia in her nakednesse; or rather he took Augustus in the very act of some ignoble crime: And this we collect from that place, Trist. lib. 2.

Cur aliquid vidi? cur noxia lumina feci?

Cur imprudenti cognita culpa mihi?

Inscius Actaeon vidit sine veste Dianam;

Praeda suis canibus non minùs ille fuit.

Why did I stain mine eyes? why did I see?

Alas, that e'r the crime was known to me!

Thus poore Actaeon unawares once spy'd

Diana naked; yet a prey he dy'd.

Here he sheweth that his errour was the spying of some secret crime committed by another: and thereupon he adjoyneth the example of Actaeon and Diana; That as Actaeon unawares spy'd that which was not fit for him to see, and so incurred Diana's displeasure and his own destruction; so he happened upon some disastrous fight, thereby incurring his Princes anger and his own ruine. [Page] And this is confirmed by that verse, Trist. lib. 3. Eleg. 5.

Inscia quòd crimen viderunt lumina, plector:

Peccatúm (que) oculos est habuisse meos.

I am condemn'd, because I chanc'd to spy

A secret act: my crime was but my eye.

Nor was this discovery of any meaner person then either of Augustus himself or some one nearly allied to him: At which the Emperour incensed, banished him, and, to cloke his own shame, for the pretended crime of his wanton verses De Arte Amandi. And this was the reason that Ovid never dar'd to reveal the other true cause of his banishment, being (very likely) adjur'd to secrecy by the Emperour: Lib. 2.

Perdiderint cùm me duo crimina, Carmen, & Error;

Alterius facti culpa silenda mihi.

Nam tanti non sum, renovem ut tua vulnera, Caesar,

Quem nimio plus est indoluisse semel.

Two crimes, my Errour, and my Muse, did stroy me;

But one must never be revealed by me:

For who am I to dare renew thy wound,

Whose grieving once I too too grievous found.

And lib. 4. Eleg. 10. in his description of his own life, hereafter subjoyned, we may reade the like.

His losse was much lamented, not onely by his kindred and allies, but by many others, who highly esteemed him for his excellent parts, and in whose hearts his sweet ingenuity ingraffed a true and sincere love towards him. Yea, he was generally deplored, out of that generall love and respect he held with all.

The manner of his departure himself setteth forth in most patheticall expressions: Which, for the elegance in the lively pourtraiture of the severall parts of sorrow and passion in himself and his friends, I have indevoured to present it in the truest English colours I could to the readers view, whose palate may with mine tast some sweetnesse in the midst of the bitternesse of sorrowfull expressions: [Page]

CƲm subit illius tristissima noctis imago,

Eleg. 3. lib. 1.

Quae mihi supremum tempus in urbe fuit,

Cùm repeto noctem quâ tot mihi chara reliqui,

Labitur ex oculis tunc quo (que) gutta meis. &c.

1.

WHhenas the picture of that dolefull night,

In which my utmost limits were,

My mind beholds, when that time comes to sight

Wherein I left so many dear,

Even then mine eyes let fall a tear.

2.

Now was the morn at hand wherein my Prince

Injoyn'd me to depart away

From Italy: Nor space, nor mind, nor sense

Had I to furnish for the day:

My soul affected dull delay.

3.

I ne'r regarded choice of man or mate:

My clothes for journeying were not fit,

Nor ought beside: Such was my soul's estate,

As he that with Joves thunder smit

Hath life but doth not know of it.

4.

But when at length this agony was past,

And I my spirits did regain,

With last Farewell I mournfully embrac'd

My weeping friends, whose ample train

Was now shrunk into one or twain.

5.

My loving Wife (in Libya farre was she

* Bred up, yet ne'r the more foreskill'd

Of my sad fate) me weeping bitterly

In her embrace she weeping held,

With show'rs of tears from eyes distill'd.

[Page]

6.

Loud grones, deep sighs on every side were vented:

No silent funerall was there.

Men, women, little children, all lamented

My fate; each corner had a share

Throughout the house, and shed some teare.

7.

And, may I but compare great things with small,

This was the face of Troy, that night

Of treachery: No noise was heard at all

Of Man or Dog; and Luna bright

Did guide her steeds by glimmering light.

8.

On her I look'd up; and beheld (as yet)

The Capitol (though all in vain)

Joyn'd to my house: Ye Pow'rs, said I, whose seat

Adjoyns to ours; thou Temple main,

Which these eyes ne'r shall see again;

9.

And all ye Gods that live in Romes great State,

Whom I must leave; Adieu for ever.

And though a buckler I take up too late,

Yet do not ye in ire persever,

But ease my burden by your favour.

10.

Make known my errour to that heavenly Man,

That he may judge my fault at least

No wickednesse; and so the truth may scan

As ye have done. That God once pleas'd

My misery will soon be eas'd.

11.

Thus did I crave. My Wife more largely pray'd,

Each accent broke with sighs most deep:

Then falling prostrate, with her hairs displaid

Before the Houshold-Gods, doth creep

To kisse the hearth with quaking lip.

[Page]

12.

There poures she forth before the sullen Powers

A many pray'rs, not prevalent

For dolefull Husband. But the hasty Howers

Deny'd delay: the night was spent,

And Arotos down the West was bent.

13.

What should I do? The love of Countrey ty'd me?

But ah! that night was set to be

My utmost bound! How oft, when any ply'd me,

Cry'd I, Alas! why hast you? see

But whence or whither post you me!

14.

How oft did I a certain hower feigne

Convenient for my way assign'd!

Thrice stept I o're the threshold; thrice again

Went back: my very foot inclin'd

To sloth, in flattery of my mind.

15.

Oft Farewell given, I fell to talk agen:

And oft I kiss'd, as if just there

I would depart: my will repeat I then

In self-mistakes; my eyes each-where

Fix'd on my souls engagements dear.

16.

Why should I hasten? Scythia is, said I,

The Countrey whither I am sent:

Rome must I leave, and leave perpetually:

In both respects just argument

Of our delayes, though time be spent.

17.

My wife and I are both for ever parted,

Yet both alive; my familie

With each sweet part, and all my friends true-hearted:

O dear-beloved Souls, to me

Knit in Thesean amitie!

[Page]

18.

Let's change embraces while we may, and make

The best advantage of the hower:

Perhaps it is for ever. Thus I spake

In halved words, and, in the power

Of soul, we clasp'd each friend of our.

19.

Thus while I talk and we lament, lo now

Bright Lucifer in th' East appear;

Sad starre to us! Oh! I am rent, as though

My joynts all wrung in sunder were,

Torn part from part by rack severe!

20.

Such wo was Priam's, when that treachery

That fatall Horse did now confesse.

But then arose a lamentable cry,

And sobbing grones did souls oppresse;

And heavy hands smote heavier brests.

21.

Then my poore wife, embracing me close to,

Pour'd forth these tear-mix'd words to me,

Oh! I cannot part from thee! I will go

I'll go, I say, I'll go with thee:

An exuls exil'd wife I'll be.

22.

The way's as free for me; so is the land:

Small burden to the ship are we.

Thee Caesars anger doth (O grief!) command

To banishment; affection, me:

Affection shall my Caesar be.

23.

Thus did she strive, as she had done before,

And scarce her hold of me forbears

By best perswasions. Forth I go adoore

A walking herse, with my soil'd hairs

Confus'd and torn about my ears.

[Page]

24.

O'rewhelm'd in grief she fell into a swound,

And head against the hard floore knocks:

Come to her self at length, and from the ground

Rais'd up, with much ado her locks

With dust bemoiled off she plucks:

25.

Now wails her case, then blames with many mones

The vexing Gods, and oft doth cry,

My Husband! Oh my Husband! with such grones

And sobs as if her child or I

Had been just now in pile to frie.

26.

Death she desir'd, by death her soul to ease:

Yet for my sake she life did will.

O mayst thou live! and, since the Fates so please,

Still live, sweet wife, my ease, and still

My absent soul with comfort fill!

27.

The Boreal Bear-man into sea doth steep

His joul, and moils the waters there:

Yet doth our keel plow up th' Ionian Deep,

Not of our own minds, but we are

Compell'd to boldnesse out of fear.

28.

Oh me! what winds arise! how Sea and Heaven

Both scoul! the bottom-sands do boil

Upon the top! huge mountain billows, driven

Against both sides, our vessel toil:

Our Gods continuall dashes soil.

29.

The hatches moil: the beaten sail-ropes rore:

The very ship doth seem to grone

At our harsh fate: The doubtfull Mariner,

With terrour in his visage shown,

Gives up and lets his art alone.

[Page]

30.

And as some weak-arm'd groom the conquer'd rain

Resignes unto his stiff-neck'd horse;

Even so the Pilote through the toilsome main

Works on his ship, not his own course,

But every way the surges force.

31.

And had not Aeolus chang'd his blustring wind,

Upon the interdicted Land

I had been forc'd: for, leaving farre behind

Th' Illyrian coast on our left hand,

We saw close by th' Italian strand.

32.

O do not strive to pitch our vessel there!

Do ye obey that God with me!

While thus I cry'd betwixt desire and fear

Of being driv'n back, O what a Sea

Doth smite the sides most furiously!

33.

Gods of the Sea, spare ye this life of ours.

O do not ye him further grieve

Whom Jove doth scourge; nor to the Stygian Powers

This weary soul of mine yet give:

If one already dead may live.

For his respect and honour he held all his life-time with those that were his coetaneans, his own works well shew: And for the fame and estimation he hath mainteined by his Poemes through all ages in many parts of the world, let the reader but turn to Mr Sandys his Collection of the Testimonies of divers learned and judicious Authours in the frontispice of his exquisite Translation of our Poets Metamorph. I will content my self with one onely added to his, which is Angelus Politianus his Elegie upon his death, wherein he manifesteth not onely his own honour and estimation of [Page] him, but also the love, respect and favour he wonne among the Barbarians with whom he lived, as you may reade;

AH weladay!

Doth Naso lye in Getick ground?

Our Romane Muses Joy

Entomb'd in barbarous bound!

That barbarous land

That lyes by Isters frozen spring,

Presse that sweet Poets hand

Whose pen soft Love did sing!

Art not asham'd,

O Rome, to be farre more severe

Then Barbarisme untam'd

To thy own Sonne so dear?

Ho, Muses, say;

Was any friend in Scythian shore

His sorrows to allay,

Or ease his pains so sore?

Was any nigh

His languish'd joynts on bed to lay,

Or with some melody

To passe the painfull day?

Was any there

To feel his fainting pulses beat,

Or to administer

Some wholesome drams or meat?

Or at his death

What friend did close his dying eye,

Or suck up his last breath?

A work of piety!

None, none there was!

Thou, thou remorselesse cruel Rome,

[Page]Kept'st all his friends (alas!)

That none at him could come.

None, none, I say!

His Wife, his little

His grandchildren, for he had no sonne.

Sonnes, and Daughter

Were parted farre away,

And could not follow after.

No friends he had,

But Bessi and Coralli tawny,

And Gets in wild-skins clad,

With arms and shoulders brawny.

The Sarmats, brow'd

With horrour and with looks austere,

That drink their horses bloud,

His onely comfort were:

The Sarmats grim,

Whose wiry-harsh and dangling hairs

Congeal'd with cold extreme

Do crash about their ears.

And yet his fate

The stern Coralli did deplore:

The Gets and Sarmats sate

And beat their bosomes sore.

Wood-Nymphs and woods

And mountains did bewail his fall:

And Isters swelling flouds

Did bear a part withall.

Fame doth reherse,

That Pontus seal'd up with thick ice,

Dissolv'd with lukewarm tears

Of Sea-Nymphs Elegies.

The gentle Dove

With mother Venus flying came,

[Page]And into pile did shove

Their brands to raise a flame.

And on the stone

Laid o're his corps this verse they seal'd,

Within this tomb lies one

That was Loves Doctour skill'd.

Even Venus bright

On him did holy waters poure,

And wash'd with hand milk-white

His body o're and o're.

And, Muses, ye

On Naso 's herse fixt each a song;

But such as cannot be

Express'd by mortall tongue.

Thus farre Politianus. But one thing is remarkable; In which we may say either his desert or his good hap advanced him beyond the fortune of Homer or Maro: Who both, though the very excellence of Poesie, had their detractours; Homer his Zoilus, and Virgil his Bavius: but Ovid (as himself seemeth to vaunt in his own lives description) was never touched with the least detraction, neither in his own time nor in any age since;

Nec, qui detrectat-praesentia, livor iniquo

Ʋllum de nostris dente momordit opus.

No black detraction to this day hath bit

With fangs of envy any work I writ.

Such indeed was his estimation and honour among the noblest Citizens of Rome, that, even while he was living, they wore his Picture in rings of gold; as Eleg. 6. Trist. lib. 1. witnesseth: Which being but brief, and tending all to our present purpose of declaring his worth and exquisite parts, I have made bold to trouble thee with the Translation; [Page]

Si quis habes nostris similes in imagine vultus,

Deme meis hederas Bacchica serta comis. &c.

DEar friend of mine that dost my picture wear,

Pull off the Ivy-crown from my sad hair.

For happy brows those happy badges be:

My fortune with a crown doth not agree.

Though I conceal thee, yet my meaning 's known

To thee whose finger wears me up and down:

Who at the second hand dost me behold

Thy banish'd friend engraven in burnish'd gold.

Which when thou view'st, perhaps thou oft maist say so,

Ah! where is now our old companion Naso?

Sweet is thy love. But I (such as they be)

My Rhythmes, my nobler picture, give to thee.

My Poeme that of bodies chang'd doth sing;

Made by my exile an unperfect thing:

This, with the rest, I in my grief and wo

At my departure into fire did throw.

So I my books, my bowels, which to dye

Deserved not, did force in flames to fry:

Because my Muse I hated, as my crimes;

Or 'cause they were rude and unpolish'd rhythmes.

But seeing that they are not quite extinct;

(Sure they in copies were transcrib'd, I think)

Now may they live, and pleasing pastimes be,

And put the Reader oft in mind of me.

And yet no man with patience them can reade

If he perceive they are unfinished.

The work was from the anvile snatch'd yerwhile,

And left unpolish'd by the finer file.

Therefore for praise I pardon crave: I've got

Great praise, if, Reader, thou disdain me not.

And this Hexastich (if you shall think fit)

Into the Front'spice of our book admit.

Whatever hand these orphane Rhythmes doth touch,

Give them some welcome: and the more to crave

[Page]Thy favour, know, they were not publish'd such,

But even reprieved from their Fathers grave.

Whatever crime therefore you shall perceive,

Know, he had mended, had the Fates giv'n leave.

But above all, his own works testifie of him to this day, and clearly demonstrate, that what respect the world, and what approof and commendations Authours have given him, was not affected but well deserved: For he hath left many fair monuments of his wit, both in Heroick and Elegiack verse, which are no mean ornaments of the Latine tongue. He penned divers Heroicall Epistles; III. Books De Arte Amandi; II. Books De Remedio Amoris; II. Books De Amore; Of Metamorphosis XV. Books. He penned also some Tragedies: Of which Medea is highly approved by * Quintilianus and Corn. Tacitus, and not without desert; for in it he hath shewn the very vigour and quintessence of wit. He composed a book against common Rhythmers, as Fabius Quintilianus witnesseth. He penned an Epistle to Livia in consolation for the death of Drusus. He began a book of the Actian warre. He wrote II. Books to Tiberius. In his banishment he wrote V. Books intituled Tristium; IV. Books De Ponto; XII. Books intituled Fasti. He writ an imprecation against Ibis; one Book De Vaticiniis; The Triumph of Germanicus Caesar. He began a work De Piscibus; which after Oppianus imitated. He penned also some works in the Getick tongue, the first about Augustus and his family, as he affirmeth lib. 4. De Ponto, Eleg. 13.

§

To his friend Carus.

NEc te mirari, si sunt vitiosa, decebit

Carmina, quae faciam penè Poeta Getes. &c.

[Page]NOr wonder at my verses slips: for know it,

I am become almost a Getick Poet.

It shames me much; though in the Getick tongue

I am so skill'd that I have Poemes sung,

And pleas'd them well: Congratulate my fame;

Among the Gets I've won a Poets name.

You ask the subject. Caesars praise I chaunted,

And in a Deity 's name my new rhythmes vaunted.

Therein I prove, though Caesars body be

But mortall, yet his soul 's a Deitie:

That he who did the Sceptre long refuse,

His Fathers virtues in his heart renews:

That Livia Vesta is of Chastity,

Her Lord and Sonne becoming equally:

That those two Sonnes their Parent did maintein,

Who gave true symptomes of their noble vein.

When I this Poeme in a forrein tongue

Had perfected, and it rehears'd among

The Getick croud, their curled locks they shake,

With armed quivers, and a murmuring make.

Cries one, If Caesar thus imployes your pen,

To Caesar you should be restor'd agen.

Thus said the Get: yet, Carus, this sixth yeare

Deteins me still beneath the frozen Bear.

At which (as he saith) the Gets murmuring in that manner, to purchase their favour, he wrote another book in the Getick tongue, Of the acts of their king: which pleased them wondrous well. And divers other works he composed; most of which, either by the lazinesse of some age, or by the negligence of Library-keepers, are become imperfect, or totally perished. His Metamorphose [...]n he finished before his banishment, but left it uncorrected, as is forementioned. He had written XII. Books intituled Fasti, as himself evidenceth. Trist lib. 2.

Sex ego Fastorum scripsi, totidem (que) libellos:

Cum (que) su [...] finem mense libellus habet.

[Page]Twelve books of Fasti I in verse have penn'd:

And every Volume with his Month doth end.

Divers suppose he began this work at Rome, and not unlikely: but he ended it in Pontus, as may be collected from his Preface, and many other places of his book, but specially from a Distich in the fourth Book;

Sulmonis gelidi patriae, Germanice, nostrae!

Me miserum! Scythico quàm procul ille solo est!

Sweet Sulmo's wall, great Prince, my native land!

Ah me! how distant from the Scythian sand!

There having corrected the first six books, he dedicated them to Germanicus, purposing to proceed with the rest: but death cutting off his dayes, he left them neither corrected nor published: and so through the carelesnesse of the times, or ignorance of the Scythians, among whom they were left, they are perished: Yet it was once reported they were all found: which I would I could find not a report but a truth.

Some deny that this work was dedicated to young Germanicus, but would have it to Tiberius Caesar: which they prove chiefly from that verse in the Preface, ‘Tu quo (que) cum Druso praemia fratre feres.’ This Drusus (say they) was brother to Tiberius, and was he that dyed in his Germane warres: But this title Germanicus was never known to be given to Tiberius: neither doth Tranquillus mention it in the rehearsall of all his titles. If any say that it hath been read in old moneys and monuments, I answer, that those inscriptions belonged not to Tiberius Caesar, but to this Tiberius Germanicus our Poets patrone, the sonne of Drusus, who inherited his fathers title which he had gained in his Germane designes. Beside, it is plain that this Germanicus whom our Poet meaneth was grandchild to Augustus ▪ by adoption, and not his sonne: as lib. 1.

Et tuus Augusto nomine dictus avus.

Then first Augustus was thy Grandsire's name. [Page] So that this Germanicus was the sonne of Drusus Tiberius his brother, and that Drusus whom he calleth Frater Germanici was Tiberius his sonne and Germanicus his first cousin; our Poet taking liberty (which is very frequent with Authours both prophane and divine) to use one title of consanguinity for another. To Augustus Grandchild therefore not to his Sonne was this Poeme dedicated. Which Ovid might very well do, because this Germanicus was exceedingly well beloved of all his souldiers and all the citizens of Rome for his many rare performances in the warres, and beside was a man of singular learning and an excellent Poet. From this favour that this Prince mainteined among all men our Poet had hopes that he might one day come to the crown, and then might favour him so far as to call him home; or at least in the mean time might purchase his release.

Divers Poets before Ovid assayed this work Fasti, as Ennius, Livius, Andronicus, and others. But Ovid a long time after diligently turning over all the ancient Calendars and Monuments of the Pontifies, and other old Annals which perteined to religious rites and ceremonies, and reducing the Romane yeare into a more exact order, with an exquisite observation of the Cosmical, Heliacal, and Acronicall rising & setting of all the fixed Constellations, composed this memorable Poeme with much labour and study.

Thus have I from the testimony of surest Authours related the principall parts and passages of this worthy Poets life, as also partly from his own hand-writing. If any desireth to be further informed of him, let him reade this following relation of his life, penned by no other hand then his own: which, as perfectly as my faculty permitted, I have presented in our native tongue.

[Page]

Ovid to Posteritie. Trist. IV. Eleg. X.

THat after-times may know of me each thing;

I was the man who tender Love did sing.

My countrey, Sulmo, fed with fresh springs all;

Miles ninety distant from the Romane wall.

Here was I born: The very yeare to tell;

'T was when by one sad fate two Consuls fell.

May that avail, I was a Knight by bloud,

Not onely raised by my Fortunes good.

I was no first-born child: for one sonne more

My father had, born just a yeare before.

Both he and I were born upon one day,

And at one time our natall gifts did pay.

It was the first day of the bloudy lists

Presented at the great Quinquatrian feasts.

Our Parents then, to have us train'd up well,

Put us to such as did in Arts excell.

My brother from his youth did bend his mind

To Rhetorick, and to the Law inclin'd.

But I a child the Thespian sweets did savour,

And more and more did winne the Muses favour.

Leave, leave these fruitlesse Studies, Sonne, oft cry'd

My father: Homer but a poore man dy'd.

Mov'd at his words I left the dear delight

Of Helicon, and 'gan in prose to write.

Lo, verses of their own accord came fit:

It was a verse whate'r I spake or writ.

Years growing on, my brother dear and I

Together took a Gown of Liberty.

Rich purple Robes with badges broad we wore▪

Those studies follow'd which we us'd before.

[Page]My Brother now had pass'd his twenti'th yeare:

He dies in whom I lost my souls best share.

In youth to some preferment rais'd was I,

And took the office of Triumviri.

Both mind and bodie were unapt for labour,

And vex'd ambition I could never savour.

And still the Muses did intice me still

To their calm sweets, which e'r had my good will.

I dearly lov'd the Poets of the time:

Each Poet was a God in my esteem.

Oft did I heare sage Macer reade his Birds,

And Serpents, and the help each Herb affords.

And oft Propertius my companion dear

With amorous raptures did present my ear.

Heroick Ponticus, Iambick Battus

With pleasing strains did often recreate us.

And tunefull Horace oft my ear delighted

With curious ditties on his harp recited.

Virgil I onely saw: and hastie Fate

Tibullus friendship did anticipate.

He followed Gallus; and Propertius, him:

I was the third man in the rank of time.

As I my Elders, so my Juniours me

Ador'd: my Muse grew famous suddenly.

Thrice and no more had I shav'n off my beard

When first my youthfull strains the people heard.

My Mistresse, in Corinna mask'd, did move

My wits: each village now could chaunt our love.

Much did I write: but what I faulty knew

Into the fault-correcting fires I threw.

And at my exile cast I into flame,

Vex'd with my Muses, many a work of fame.

My tender heart oft pierced through with Love

Each light occasion instantly did move.

[Page]But when I was from Cupids passions free,

My Muse was mute and wrote no Elegie.

A worthlesse, lovelesse Wife to me but young

Was match'd: with whom I led my life not long.

My second wife, though free from any crime,

Yet she continued but a little time.

My last, with whom most of my dayes I spent,

Endur'd the blemish of my banishment.

One Daughter have I, which once and again

Made me a Grandsire, but by husbands twain.

And now my Father full of silver-hairs

His dayes concluded just at ninetie years.

As he'd have mourn'd for me, so did I mourn

For him. Next Sorrow was my Mothers urn.

Both happie sure and in good houres did die,

Whose death did come before my miscrie.

And happie I, in that they both being dead

No tears at all for my affliction shed.

Yet if, ye Dead, have ought beside a name;

If your light Ghosts escape the fatall flame:

Parentall Souls, if you have heard of me

In Styx; if there my crimes related be:

Be you assur'd, with whom I cannot lie,

My crime was Errour not Dishonestie.

Enough for them. To you now I retire,

My friends, who th' actions of my life enquire.

The Summer-tropick of my years now gone,

Declining Age with hoarie hairs came on.

Now since my birth ten times the Horse-courser

That won the race Pisaean wreaths did wear:

When ah, offended Caesar doth command

My dolefull exile to the Tomites land!

The cause of this, too much to most reveal'd,

Must be for ever by my self conceal'd.

Nor friends, nor servants wrongs will I here vent:

I've suffered crosses next to banishment.

[Page]To which my mind did scorn to yield; and still

By its own strength did stand invincible.

And sans regard of self or calm life led,

With artlesse arm the warres

Under M. Varro as is forementioned.

I followed.

As many troubles have surcharg'd this soul

As there be starres 'twixt North and Southern Pole.

Long being toss'd about, at length I met

The surly Sarmat and the bow-arm'd Get.

Here, though I'm startled with the noise of arms,

My Muse with her best skill my sorrows charms.

And though no eare can relish here one rhythme,

Yet so I passe and so delude the time.

For life therefore, and power against my toils,

For passing of the tedious houres somewhiles,

Thanks, Muse, to thee: Thou art my sole relief,

My ease, my physick in my wasting grief.

Thou me, my Guide and dear Companion,

Dost raise from Ister into Helicon.

Thou giv'st me, while I live, a name sublime,

The rarest gift that scorns both Tombe and Time.

No black Detraction to this day hath bit

With fangs of envie any work I writ.

And though our age so many Poets high

Hath bred, my fansie Fame did ne'r envy.

I others honour'd: others honoured

Me with the best; and through the world I'm read.

If then we Poets can the truth divine;

Come death whenever, Dust, I am not thine.

Whether by favour or desert I be

Thus fam'd; kind Reader, thanks I give to thee.

Sic cecinit Naso de se.

[Page]

CLIO's complaint for the death of OVID.

Clio. 1.

AH! with what tears shall I enlarge my grief?

In what sad accents shall I sigh and grone?

How vent my sorrows? knowing no relief,

Nor craving ought, but onely to be known

To all: that all may share with me in mone.

2.

Let not Rome onely and the Latine train

Lament and mourn, but all the world beside,

Sweet Naso 's Death, whose most ingenious brain

The world with peerlesse treasures beautifi'd;

And more had done, had he not timelesse dy'd.

3.

Ah! how I still remember to my wo,

In what a happy vein he walk'd along!

How readily his fansie quick did flow

In numbers even and raptures sound and strong,

Which presently made up some learned Song!

4.

Whose melodie would make the Hills to ring,

The Wood-Gods wonder, and the Fauns admire.

The Dryads, Naiads, them would often sing;

And every Nymph to heare them did desire:

Which won the favour of each beauteous Quire.

5.

His very youth was ripe in Poesie:

For all assayes he was our witty Page.

Ofttimes Apollo, when he chanc'd to eye

His lines, would say, O thou of youthfull age!

A Boy in years, but in our gifts a Sage!

[Page]

6.

Those amorous raptures which in sport be writ

When, Venus servant, he did march yerwhile

In Cupids files, what quintessence of wit

Do they demonstrate! in what curious style

His verses flow, not fowl'd with vulgar soil!

7.

But now the vigour of his wit at full,

Like candid Cynthia in diameter

With her bright Brother, when our Thespian pool

He in full draughts drew in, O then how clear

His fansie stream'd! what learning flourish'd there!

8.

That Poeme of Transformed shapes can shew;

A piece of all applauded, and desir'd:

Which whoso reads, his pithy Muse may view

In beautifull variety attir'd.

The quaint contexture of that work 's admir'd.

9.

And when his buskin'd Muse in garb most grave

And voice majestick stalk'd on crouded Scene,

No Sophoclean strains more height could have,

Nor weight support. How oft have they between

Each Act with generall shouts applauded been!

10.

At length, inspired with a heat divine,

That worthy work he writ with happy pen

Of Months, with courses of each constant Signe,

And Phoebus toils: Where fitly now and then

He chaunts the praises of his countrey-men:

11.

When in the middle of his fair carier

The cruel Parcae clipt (O grief! O gall!)

His precious twist: when he scarce half his Yeare

Had finished. By which did thousands fall

Short of their praises; of a jewel, all.

[Page]

12.

O cruel Sisters! Why did you not spare,

And draw to Nestor's length his sacred twine?

Or to as large a twisted clue as were

The lasting Sibylls? 'T was as pure and fine,

And (if with you that values) as Divine.

13.

No work you wanted for your direfull knives,

Their thirst to satiate. Charon 's boat doth grone

With constant crowds. Ten thousand vulgar lives

You might have shar'd off, and let his alone:

Ten thousand lives might satisfie for one.

14.

Why did not I in time solicite Fate,

Back'd with my Sisters, and (had Pray'rs been able

Or Gifts to conquer) beg a longer date?

We would have chang'd her nature ne'r so stable,

Before w' had done, and made her exorable.

15.

But thou, dire Caesar, most to be upbraided,

Thy tyrannie did cut him off in 's prime

By unjust banishment. His spirits faded

With blasting griefs, which ware out all his time,

And chill distempers of the Getick clime.

16.

O well it hapned in the midst of ill!

Of half thy praise his death despoiled thee:

And what was giv'n thee by his faithfull quill,

The world by this thy unjust act shall see,

Was not thy merit but his loyaltie.

17.

Thy thundring blow his dazled fansie smit,

That in a trance long time she lay for slain:

At length reviv'd, (O admirable Wit,

And even beyond my thought!) amid his pain

And misery his Muse did sing again.

[Page]

18.

The crime was thine and not his own: How then

Couldst thou exile him to the furthest end

Of all the world, 'mong monsters fierce, not men,

To wast his dayes? and him (O horrid!) rend

From Wife, from Children, Countrey dear, and Friend?

19.

His eyes beheld too much: Too bold was he

Into the secrets of a King to pry.

'T is true, alas! he saw too much of thee.

Wert thou asham'd that he thy crime did spy?

That crime then banish more deservedly.

20.

O horrid! never call him home again?

Never afford a milder region?

Were those sweet expiations all in vain?

His oratorious Muse, his pleading mone,

That mov'd not thee, would move a marble-stone.

21.

Thy heart was Scythian, barbarous thy deed,

Just like that place where he was forc'd to be.

Thy name Augustus well with thee agreed:

'T was given in flattery; but by this all see,

Thou wert Augustus in thy cruelty,

22.

Surpassing farre the barbarisme of Gets,

Coralli, Bessi, with their snarled hairs.

For lo, his Muse their rigour mitigates:

And that which could not pierce thy rockyears,

Did win their favour and * provoke their tears.

23.

Oft didst thou vaunt thy love unto our Art

And didst reward our Priests with wealth and fame:

Oft didst thou take thy pen to play thy part

[Page]Among our Quire; and with our sacred flame

Inspir'd, didst triumph in a Poets name:

24.

How then came all that heat and love so quail'd,

O'rewhelm'd and quench'd? by one dire blast of ire?

Our Pow'r contemn'd? which ever yet prevail'd

With stoutest spirits. O why did we inspire

Thee with one spark, that thus dost slight our Quire!

25.

Our force and virtue, that have rais'd the dead,

* Drawn down the Moon, erected brazen Towers,

Tam'd Bears and Tigers, mov'd the Rocks, and staid

The running Streams, and * charm'd the greatest Powers

In Pluto 's cell, mov'd not that heart of yours.

26.

Jove, Juno, Venus, Janus, Mars, and all

Ye Powers of heaven, his pen your praises spake:

Why did ye let so true a servant fall?

Why did ye not for your own honours sake

With draughts of Nectar him immortall make?

27.

And thou great Father of our sacred Quire,

Let me in Griefs prerogative be bold

To plead with thee. Thou didst at full inspire

Thy darling Naso, and hast him enroll'd

Among thy most renowned Priests of old.

28.

Oft hast thou crowned with immortall Bayes

His sacred brows? he was thy favourite.

Nor that grand Chanter of Achilles praise,

Nor that high pen which sung Aeneas flight,

Nor that sweet Lyrick thee did more delight.

[Page]

29.

Why didst not then with thine Ambrosia feed him?

(Food which thou giv'st to thine unwearied steeds)

To large eternity why didst not breed him?

Then his pure fansie sown with heavenly seeds,

Had chanted more divine and humane deeds.

30.

Thou might'st at least have done the world that favour,

As to have begg'd a longer lease of life

From Joves own hand O thou hadst been a saver

Of thine own honour, hadst thou stay'd the knife

(That bloudie weapon!) of the Sisters rise.

31.

Behold that halved orphane work; a piece

Almost the last that by his hand was penn'd:

That work alone deserv'd a longer lease

Of life from thee. See how he did intend

Thy same and honour through the year to send.

32.

Had he accomplish'd that divine designe,

And reach'd to his Years end without that wrong

From Fate and Caesar, that had all been thine:

Then in thy chariot thou hadst danc'd along

Thy Years twelve labours in a constant song.

33.

Now is thy race uneven: One half the yeare

Thou passest blank. Methinks thy wheels are numb

Those silenc'd Months: No song doth calendar

Thy Signes and dayes. One side of heaven is dumb.

Such wrongs to us from Fates thwart actions come.

34.

Apollo duly to her plaint gave eare.

Her grief mov'd pitie, and her words mov'd grief.

Much it affects him Naso 's death to heare;

That envious Fate so short had cropp'd his life.

He shakes his fire-locks, and replies, not brief;

[Page]

Apollo. 35.

Sweet Clio, Thy complaint is just and true;

And in thy sorrow I consent with thee.

The thought of Phaethon's fall doth not renew

My passion so nor more distemper me

Then Ovid's death and sad calamitie.

36.

And had I thought his fatall twist had been

So near the end, and that the Three consented

Amid his songs to cut his thread so green,

I would have tri'd my skill to have prevented

That stroke, and got a longer lease indented.

37.

But well thou know'st my mind about is hurl'd,

Each week, each day, each minute of an houre,

In generall affairs of all the world,

In meting out of Time, and keeping our

Heaven's Complices in their due course and power:

38.

That I nor space nor respit have alwayes

On each particular in this vast All

To set my thoughts; though men of worth and praise

Are cropp'd by Fates, who threads of Virtue gall;

And oft my friends besides my knowledge fall.

39.

Thus Maro, Lucane, by their spitefull hand

A [...]n [...]ares were banish'd from my light,

And that arch-Poet of the Fairie lond,

With diverse more. Thus many a Favourite

Have lost their heads out of their Prince's sight.

40.

When I per chance foresee the fatall day

Of any Worthie, how it me doth pain

To bring it onward! gladly would I stay.

And were it not Necessitie constrain,

I should my chariot oftentimes refrain.

[Page]

41.

But, Clio, stay thy tears. 'T is follie, never

To cease a grief for unrevers'd decrees.

'T is wisdome, when Necessitie doth sever

Her actions and our will, when what we please

We cannot do, to do what most may ease.

42.

Though Death hath silenc'd his facetious quill,

And robb'd him of his life, us of our praise;

Yet doth his fame, his nobler portion, still

Survive and flourish like our lasting Bayes:

And through the world his works his worth shall raise.

43.

As for his Poeme's losse, it proves his gain.

'T is greater honour to be much desir'd

Then much enjoy'd. For that which doth remain

To be made up, some Fansie well attir'd

May be e'r long for that supply inspir'd.

44.

Thus in despite of Fate will we extend

Our Servants lives, and raise their dying head.

As for Augustus who did cause his end,

The world concludes it, Ovid banished

Th' unworthi'st act that e'r Augustus did.

Sic questa est: Clio: moestae gemuere Sorores,

Concussítque comam scitus Apollo Lyrae.

Notes

*

Here is a mistake, where that which belongeth to the daughter is applyed to the mother.

↵

*

Quae ostentare videtur quantum vir ille praestare potuerit, si ingenio suo temperare quam indulgere maluisset, Quint.

↵

*

Et tamen exstinctum Bessi & flevere Coralli, &c. Ang. Polit. in his Elegie.

↵

*

Carmina de coelo possunt deducere lunam, Virg. Vid. Fast. 2. of Arion. And the power of Orpheus his Harp is a known story.

↵

*

This Orpheus did when he went down into the Stygian vaults to fetch back his wife.

↵

OVIDS FESTIVALLS; OR, ROMANE CALENDAR. The first Book; or, JANUARIE.

[Page]

The Argument.

TH' old Romane yeare. The severall sorts of dayes.

Discourse with Janus. Th' Astrosophi's praise.

The feast Agonia. Whence the Altar's fill'd

With bloud of birds and beasts. Why th' Asse is kill'd

To lustfull Priap. Queen Carmentis rite

With her predictions. Great Tyrinthius fight

With fire-mouth'd Cacus. The Augustian name

Assum'd by Cesar. In Carmentis fame

More sacreds pay'd. White Concord in white fane.

Mild Peace her altar. And a pray'r for grain.

TImes with their causes to the Romane yeare

Dispos'd of old, Star's courses sing we here.

Germanick Cesar, O accept our charge:

With smooth aspect, and guide my feeble barge.

Be Patrone to this piece devote to thee;

Let not this gift, though small, rejected be.

Here holy rites pickt out of annals old

May'st thou read ore: and why each day's enroll'd.

Here may you your domestick feasts adjoynd,

And here your father and grandfather find;

[Page]And how throughout the Calendar renown'd,

Thy brother Drusus fame with thine shall sound.

Some Caesars arms, we Caesars altars sing;

What dayes were hallow'd by that sacred king.

The whiles the glory of thy house I chaunt,

Do thou but smile, no fear our Muse shall daunt.

Your grace gives vigour to my verses poore,

Our fansie at your eye doth flag or soat.

The censure of so learn'd a majesty

Our Muse doth fear more then Apollo's eye.

For we did tast those sweets your lips let fall,

When you did plead in causes criminall.

But when Apollo thee inspir'd, O then

What streams of learning glided from thy pen!

O Poet, deigne a Poets rain to guide,

That so our yeare a sweeter course may slide.

WHen Romulus the times did first dispose,

Ten months to number out his yeare he chose.

(Forsooth, thou hadst more skill in signes of warres

To curb thy neighbours, then in signes of starres)

Yet he by reasons was to this induc'd:

His errour, Caesar, may be well excus'd.

What time the mother in her womb doth bear

Her breeding child, just that he made his yeare.

That time the widow from the fatall burning

Of her dead mate did wear the signes of mourning.

These arguments did Romulus regard

When he the seasons to his peasants shar'd.

Mars had the first, the next was Venus place;

He father, and she mother of his race:

The third from Eld, the fourth from Yongth is nam'd:

The number titles for the rest hath fram'd.

But Numa willing Janus to adore,

And dead mens ghosts, prepos'd a couple more.

[Page]Now you the duties of each day must know:

For every day did not the like allow.

That was Non-leet-day which the three words scap't,

That Leet-day was wherein the courts were kept.

These offices were not all day performing:

'Tis Leet at noon, but 'twas a Non-leet morning.

Before the Praetour pleading then begun,

And suits of law when sacrifice was done.

Some dayes the people in the rails include,

Some on the ninth day still their course renew'd.

Queen Juno's care our Romane Calends shield:

A fat white lamb in th' Ides to Jove is kill'd.

The Nones are blank, and want a sacrifice:

Take heed, I pray, the next a black day is.

The reason's from th'events: In them, they say,

Our Romane host have often lost the day.

But once of these it shall suffice to speak

In all our book, lest I my order break.

GErmanick, lo! our Janus thee doth bring

A happy yeare: he is the first I sing.

Tway-faced Janus, our still-pac't yeares guide,

Who onely of the gods seest thy back-side.

Come gracious to our captains, by whose care

Both sea and land secure of tumult are.

Come gracious to our Romane lords and states,

And in good will unlock thy temple-gates.

A good day comes; let tongues from hearts salute:

Good words and greetings this good day do suit.

Let idle wranglings not molest the eare:

Ye brawling people now your suits deferre.

See how the heavens with spicy fires do shine,

And spikenard crackles on the hearths divine.

Transplendent flames do lash the temples gold,

A twinkling lustre to the roof extoll'd.

[Page]White robes now walk to our Tarpeian wall:

The people's deckt in gaytie festivall.

New purple shines: new rods now stalk in state:

The ivory'd benches bear another weight.

The fair fat ox, whose neck ne're felt the yoke,

Now yields it to the sacrificing stroke.

Jove when he views the world from towring skies

Hath nought but Romane to imploy his eyes.

Hail holy-day; come alwayes fortunate:

Deserving worship of a world-great state.

But, Janus, now what god shall I thee call?

For Greece hath nere a god like thee at all.

Rehearse the reason why thou hast such ods

Of looking both wayes, more then all the gods.

I walkt, my note-book in mine hand, I mus'd:

The temple brighter shines then earst it us'd.

Majestick Janus turns immediately

His double visage to my wondring eye.

Amazement makes my hairs upright to start:

A sudden terrour chills me to the heart.

His staff in's right hand, in his left his key;

From former face he thus replies to me:

Time's studious prophet, cast aside all fear,

And from my mouth what thou desirest heare.

Old times did call me Chaos (I'm a thing

Of deepest eld) mark what old acts I sing.

All these foure elements, the Aire so clear,

Fire, Earth, and Water, one whole bodie were.

When strife they ceas'd, and this laborious masse

To severall houses separated was,

Fire mounted heaven; the next the Aire possess'd;

The Earth and Water in the midst were press'd.

Then I, who was a rude and shapelesse load,

Came to the true proportion of a god.

Because my badge of that rude lump is small,

My fore and back parts differ not at all.

[Page]The other reason of my shape I'le show,

Which with my office thou shalt also know.

What-ere thou seest, heaven, aire, and sea, and land,

Are all lockt up, and open'd by mine hand:

This vast worlds guard is in my onely power:

The wheeling of the hinge of heaven is our.

When peace I please into calm courts to send,

She in safe paths about doth freely wend.

With fatall bloud the world would drenched be,

Should I not curb stern warre with this my key.

I with the gentle Houres heavens portalls guard:

Jove's self goes in and out too by my ward:

Thence Janus call'd. And when the priest doth make

A wafer for me, and a salt-meal-cake,

The name doth seem ridiculous: some whiles

He me Patusius, and then Clusius, styles.

My double office rude antiquitie

By this alternate name would signifie.

Thou seest my office, now will I make known

My figure's ground, in part alreadie shown:

Two fronts (thou know'st) belong to every gate:

This tow'rds the people, tow'rds the houshold that▪

And as the porter at his gate with you

Does both the ingresse and the egresse view:

So I the porter or heavens court survey

Just at a wink the East and Western bay.

See Hecate, her faces three wayes bends,

And so she eas'ly three-leet wayes defends:

So without motion I two wayes can see,

Lest losse of time there should in moving be.

This said, he promis'd with a courteous eye,

If more I askt, he would not me denie.

I courage took, and thankt Sr Janus then,

And casting down mine eye thus spake again.

Why doth the New yeare in the cold begin?

The gentle spring a fitter time had bin.

[Page]Times age renews then, and renews all things:

On swelling twigs the pearly vine-bud springs.

Leaves deck the trees in summer-green attire:

Both grasse and grain above the ground doth spire.

Birds descants warble in the calmed aire,

Both birds and beasts do sport about and pair.

The sun shines warm. Then comes the vagrant swallow,

And on a beam her morter-work doth follow.

The farmers ploughes his fallow grounds manure:

This should have been the yeares beginning sure.

I largely ask't, he made no large replies,

But in two verses doth his speech comprize.

Sols first and last day doth in winter fall,

The yeare the same beginning hath with Sol.

Then marvell'd I why with some suits of laws

This day is kept: Sayes Janus, Learn the cause.

Upon the first day some affairs we raise,

Lest from the Omen all the yeare should laze.

Each in his art for that some businesse does,

And by those acts his yearly studies shews.

But why (said I) do we bring myrrh and wine

To thee before the other powers divine?

That you (sayes he) by me who keep the doore,

May have accesse to any other power.

And why (said I) on this first day such greetings,

And hearty wishes do we use at meetings?

Replies he, leaning on his staff in's hand,

In their beginnings do all Omens stand.

Your jealous eares you turn to each first word:

The watchfull Augur marks the first-spy'd bird.

Gods eares and temples all stand ope: no tongue

Makes idle pray'rs, but every word is strong.

Thus answer'd he. I was not silent much,

For his last word I with my first did touch.

What means dry figs and palm-fruit I wot not,

And honey offer'd in a fine-white pot.

[Page]That's for good luck, that things may savour so,

And that our yeare a pleasant race may go.

This have I learn'd; but shew the reason now

Of new-yeares gifts, that I may all parts know.

He smil'd: O how doth thy age thee deceive!

Honey more sweet than money to believe!

I scarce saw any in old Saturns reign

That was not taken with the sweets of gain.

In tract of time the Having love did grow:

'Tis now at height, and can no further go.

Wealth now is farre more set by then of yore,

Rome being a novice, and her people poore.

When Mars-got Romulus in mean stalls liv'd,

And little beds of river-reeds were weav'd,

In narrow court Jove scarce upright could stand,

And held an earthen thunderbolt in's hand.

Then leaves for gold the Capitol adorn'd:

To keep his flocks the Senatour nere scorn'd,

Nor sham'd to sleep upon a lock of hay,

Or on a pad of straw his head to lay.

The Praetour kept his court new come from plow:

A plate of silver as a shame did show.

But when proud Fate this places head had rear'd,

And Romes top-gallant neare the gods appear'd,

Then wealth encreas'd, and wealths unglut desire,

Men much possessing still much more require.

To spend what's gotten, and to get what's spent,

The very course is vices nourishment.

So they whose bodies swelling dropsies have,

The more they drink the more they liquour crave.

Coin has the count, wealth gets the honour still:

Wealth gets the friends, the poore shifts where he will▪

But if thou ask why new-yeares gifts are sent,

And why old moneyes us so well content:

Yerst brasse was given; now better 'tis in gold:

The newer coin hath taken place of old.

[Page]Gold-temples please us, though the old w'approve:

The majestie a god doth most behove.

We praise old times, but yet make use of new;

To both their customes like observance due.

He made an end: When conging courteously

Key-keeping Janus thus accosted I;

Much have I learn'd: but why one side the brasse

Is stampt a ship, and then a double face?

Seest thou, quoth he, that double picture in't?

It is my face, but time hath blurr'd the print.

The Ships cause learn. A ship old Saturn brought

On Tuscan stream, the whole world roam'd about.

I well remember since He pitcht upon

These coasts; when Jove the throne of heaven had won.

The name Saturnia thence this land did bear,

And Latium too: because he sheltred here.

But after ages, as a mindfull signe

Of his arrivall, stampt a ship in coyn.

I then manur'd that ground on whose left side

Sand-guilded Tiber's courteous stream doth glide.

Where Rome now stands there grew a loftie wood;

This mightie masse was then but pasture-food.

Mine altar stood upon you hill, which from

My name this age doth all Janiculum.

Then reigned I, when gods did dwell on ground,

And pow'rs divine in humane seats were found.

Mans crimes from earth yet had not Justice driven:

She last of gods withdrew her self to heaven.

Without constraint shame rul'd the hearts of men,

Not fear: small pains to judge the Commons then.

I knew no warres, but kept my Peace and Doore,

These arms, quoth he, his key advanc'd, I wore.

His lips he closing, mine then open'd I,

My question still provoking his reply:

Since thou hast many temples, why dost stand

In this alone, with markets twain at hand.

[Page]He, coaxing then his grave and bushy beard

Down to his wast, the Tatian warres declar'd.

How that light guard entic'd with Sabine chains

Led into towre king Tatius and his trains.

From thence, as now, where you, quoth he, descend,

A hill through markets to the vales doth bend.

Now stole they to the gate, whose fastned lock

Malignant Juno off the bolts did knock.

I, loth to thwart it with so high a power,

Did slily help them with a feat of our,

And op'd the spring-heads (which my art can do)

And suddenly let flouds of water go.

First in the veins I sulphur threw about,

That scalding streams might force the Tatians out.

By which, the Sabines almost scallt and slain,

The place its former nature did regain.

For this good turn they me a Chapell raise,

Where cakes and barley on my altars blaze.

But why in warres unbolted are thy gates,

And lockt in peace? The reason he relates:

In time of warre I set my doores wide ope,

To make retreat for every marcht forth troop.

In peace I'm barr'd, lest forth stern warre should flee:

And long in Cesars empire barr'd I'le be.

This said, he lifts his all-way-looking eyes,

And views what ever in the broad world lies.

'Twas peace, O Cesar, and subdued Rhene,

To raise thy triumphs, paid his tribute then.

Peace and peace-makers, Janus, death-lesse make:

Let not the authour e're that work forsake.

Now let me tell what registers do say;

Our fathers gave two temples on this day.

The isle where Tiber in two parts doth runne,

Did welcome Aesculapius Phebus sonne.

Jove hath a part: one place them both conteins:

The grandchild's temple to the grandsire's joyns.

[Page]What lets to sing the starres ascent and set?

This is a piece on which our Muse must treat.

Blest souls who first did this rare science love,

And striv'd to climb those crystall courts above!

From worldly vices and all baser toyes

They (doubtlesse) their diviner thoughts did raise.

Nor wine, nor love, nor warres, nor court-affairs

Did break those lofty-towring minds of theirs:

Nor varnish't glory, nor ambition light,

Nor thirst of riches did distract their spright.

They drew the starres familiar to our eyes,

And to their knowledge did submit the skies.

So heaven is scal'd, not as Olympus yerst

Did Ossa bear, the clouds with Pelion pierc'd.

We by those guides will meet those heavenly lines,

And point each day to his associate signes.

The third night come before the Nones ensue,

When earth is dabbled with the morning dew,

To seek eight-footed Cancers arms were vain,

He headlong falls into the western main.

Much rain doth threat from hovering clouds to flow:

The Nones, the Harp arising, signes will show.

Let foure dayes from the Nones be past, then shall

Old Janus have his service Agonall.

The girt-up priest, who at the altar slayes

The beast to him, may be the titles cause:

Who being about to drench his knife in bloud,

Agóne cryes, nor strikes till he's allow'd.

This feast Agnalia they did term (some say)

In ancient times, one letter ta'n away.

Some think, because the beasts are driven, they call

This day from cattle-driving, Agonal.

Or else, because knives laid in water scare

The wary beast, 'tis call'd so from that fear.

Some hold that from those games the Greeks did make

In former times this day the name did take.

[Page]Which games old language did Agonia call:

And in my mind this ground is best of all.

How-ere 'tis doubtfull. But the great King-priest

With sacred ram to Janus now must feast.

By hands victorious victima doth fall:

From slaughtred host the beast we hostia call.

In times of eld men pleas'd the pow'rs of heaven

With crummes of salt, and meal of barley given.

No forrain vessel through the swelling seas

Brought in sweet myrrh wept from the rinds of trees.

Euphrates incense, Ind no cost did send:

None did the strings of tawny saffron tend.

From Sabine weeds the altars fumes did rise,

And bay-boughs burning with a crackling noise.

If any in his flow'r-prank't chaplets than

Could violets put, he was a wealthy man.

The knife that now the oxes flesh doth slice,

Then had no office in a sacrifice.

First Ceres in the greedy swines bloud joy'd,

Him well requiting who her wealth destroy'd.

For in the spring her tender juicy corn

She found up-rooted by the swine and torn.

He punish't was. Sir goat, you might have learn'd

To keep from vines by his example warn'd:

Whom one beholding on the vine-tree feeding,

Did vent these words from no still grief proceeding;

Well goat gnaw on, yet when at th' altar thou

Dost stand for death the wine shall wash thy brow.

Truth proves his speech: to thee that foe of thine

Sir Bacchus, given, his horns are dash't with wine.

The swines fault wrong'd him & the goats: yee flocks

What did ye merit? or the usefull ox?

The shepherd Aristaeus mourn'd and pin'd

His bees all dead and combs decay'd to find.

Whom his blue mother comforted in grief,

And in the end did give him this relief;

[Page]Sonne, stay these sorrows: Proteus thee will shew

Thy losse to cure, and thy dead stock renew:

But bind him sure in fetters strong, lest he

With his transformed shapes should coosen thee.

The young man to the Ocean Sage makes hast,

And fast asleep his arms he shackles fast.

His shape he changes, and transforms by charm;

Straight tam'd with shackles comes to his own form,

And raising his drencht face with his blue beard,

Do'st seek, quoth he, to have thy stock repair'd?

An oxes carcase bury in the field,

And thy desire that buried ox shall yield.

This did the youth: The putrid corps doth glow

With swarms; from one life do a thousand flow.

The saucie sheep cropt vervine in the spring,

Which good old wives to countrey-gods did bring.

What beast's secure, when profitable flocks

Are slain at altars, and the toilsome ox?

Beam-girt Hyperion Persians please with horse:

No dull beast suits a god so swift in course.

The hart that did to triple Dian fall

Once for a maid, now dies for none at all.

Sabeans and chill Aemus have I seen

Dogs entrails offer to the Trivian queen.

The asse unto the Garden-god is kill'd:

The cause obscene, yet such this god doth yield.

To ivi'd Bacchus Greece a feast did make,

Which each third yeare a constant course doth take.

The gods that kept about Lyceus side

And all the neighbours to the banquet ply'd;

The Fauns and Satyrs with obscenenesse fir'd,

The Nymphs that haunt fresh springs and shades retir'd:

Silenus sage on bow-backt asse was there,

And he whose red flank frightfull birds doth scare.

Who choosing in a grove a fitting place

For such a feast, sate down on turfs of grasse.

[Page]Th'had wines from Bacchus: each did bring his crown:

To cool their cups a brook hard by ran down.

The Fairies some in loose and carelesse hair,

Some in their artificiall tires, were there.

Some with their coats tuckt up unto the knee,

Some naked-breasted in the service be.

Some with bare shoulders, some in garments side

Did sweep the grasse: their feet no sandals ty'd.

Hence secretly at some the Satyres glow;

And thou who with a pine-wreath bind'st thy brow.

And thee, Silenus, quenchlesse lusts still hold:

'Tis lechery that makes thee never old.

But Priap's love, the dun-thigh'd garden-guard,

'Mongst all the rest was bent to Lotis-ward:

For her he longs, for her he sighs and pines,

To her he winks, and sues with nods and signes.

Pride fills the fair, and beauty breeds disdain:

She laughs at him, and slights his suits but vain.

Night came, and sleep by wine provoked: they

Each in his place to rest, being drowzy, lay.

Beneath a maple Lotis on the grasse,

Quite tir'd with sport, on th' outside tumbled was:

Her sweet-heart rising holds his breath, and goes

Most slily, creeping on his hands and toes.

Her private lodging soon as he came nigh,

He holds his wind from breathing out too high.

His bulk he layes down eas'ly on the ground

Close to her side, yet she asleep was sound.

Full blith, her coats above her knees he drew,

And luckily his businesse gan pursue.

When lo! just then from his unpleasing throat

Silenus asse brayes out an ugly note.

Up starts the nymph affrighted much, and shoves

Sir Priap off, and flying wakes the groves.

The god too forward with his tool obscene,

Was soundly jeer'd at, by the moon-light seen.

[Page]This cost the braying asse his life, who is

To Lampsacs God a pleasing sacrifice.

Wood-haunting birds, the countreys solace, yee

(A harmlesse brood) were yet untouch'd and free.

That build neat nests, and eggs with tender wing

Hatch up, and in melodious accents sing.

This nought avails: the Gods your tongues do find

Too faulty in discovering their mind.

And true it is; with wing and tattling bill

You near to heaven disclose their secret will.

The kind of birds, long free, at length yet dy'd,

And Gods their traitours entrails gratifi'd.

Thence on the burning hearths the milk-wing'd dove

Is sacrific'd, snatch't from her tender love.

Nor can the guarded Capitol release

The gooses liver from choise Inachs messe.

The cock by night to Nights black Queen they slay,

Because his watchfull bill doth wake the day.

Mean while the Dolphines glittering snout doth rise

From native seas, and scales the azure skies.

Next day doth winter equally divide:

What past made even to what remains beside.

Next dayes Aurora rising views in sight

Th' Arcadian Ladies pontificiall rite.

This day Juturna to a chapell took,

Where Mars his field is girt with maiden broo [...].

From whence shall I their cause and customes take?

My doubtfull barge who guides amid this lake?

Tell thou, who from thy verses tak'st thy name,

My task assist, lest I should wrong thy fame.

Before the Moon Arcadia did derive

Her name from Arcas (may we her believe.)

Here liv'd Evander honourable in

Both pedegrees,, but most in mothers kin.

She, when her brest with heavenly fire was fill'd,

From full-voic'd mouth true prophesies did yield:

[Page]That troubles did herself and sonne pursue,

With much more news, which time approved true.

For he with his too-skilfull mother, beat

From Arcadie, forsook his native seat:

And weeping (cryes his mother) Do not mourn,

My sonne; these fates must manfully be born.

'Twas thus enroll'd in Fate: from thine abode

No crime hath driven thee, but an angry God.

Thou sufferest not thy merits, but heavens wrath:

Clean innocence in wo much comfort hath.

As is the conscience, so the mind doth breed

Or hope or fear for every acted deed.

Th'art not the first that hath such evils born:

These tempests have the greatest worthies torn.

This Cadmus banish't from the Tyrian bay

Endur'd, then settled in Aonia.

This was both Tydeus and Jasons state,

And divers more, too many to relate.

As seas to fish, to birds as ayre and wind,

All lands are native to a noble mind.

Nor shall this winter last perpetually:

Believe me, sonne, there is a spring for thee.

Evander raised by his mothers speech,

Plowes up the waves, and Italy doth reach.

Then by her guidance to our river came

Of Tiber, and so sailed up the stream.

The rivers margent on Tarentums side,

And scattred stalls on desert plains she ey'd.

With hairs about her shoulders pour'd she stands

O'th'poop, and scowling stayes the pilots hands.

Her arms extended to the right side banks,

With frantick feet thrice stampt she on the planks.

Scarce could Evander scarce with might and main

Her leaping hast'ly on the bank restrain.

Hail Gods (cryes she) of this desired place;

Hail land, the mother of a heavenly race:

[Page]Ye springs & rivers of this land hospitious,

Ye Fairies feat, and water-nymphs delicious,

With good luck of my sonne and me be seen:

With happie foot may we all touch this green.

I erre, or else these hills huge walls shall see,

And to this land all lands shall subject be.

The world's engag'd to yonder mountains state:

Who'uld think this place should comprehend such fate?

Troy's ships now shortly here arriving are:

Here shall a woman cause a second warre.

Dear Pallas, why do fatall arms array thee?

Well, put them on; no common hand shall slay thee.

Yet conquer'd Troy shall conquer: fall'n shall rise:

Her ruines shall subdue her enemies.

Ye conquering flames the Dardane towres devour:

Their dust, now small, shall here the world o'repower.

Aeneas now his gods and father brings:

O Vesta, entertein those holy things!

Time comes when one shall Earth with you defend;

That god himself shall sacrifices spend.

The Cesars then their countrey shall maintein:

That noble house must guide the kingdomes reigne.

That god-born prince (although himself denie)

His fathers weight shall manage piously.

As sure as altars me perpetually

Shall worship, Julia shall a goddesse be.

As with these words she came to these our times,

Her tongue prophetick stay'd amid these rhy'mes.

A boord on Italy these exuls went:

Right blest; to whom that land was banishment!

Streight rise new walls. Nor could that clime afford

A greater Heroe then th'Arcadian lord.

Lo, great Tyrinthius, as he now did rove

The world, his Spanish oxen thither drove:

And being here entertein'd by king Evander,

His beasts unkept about the plains do wander.

[Page]The club-arm'd Heros, when the morn appear'd,

Arose, and miss'd two oxen in his herd.

He search'd, but finds no tract of beasts nor men;

Fell Cacus dragg'd them backward to his den:

Cacus, the fear of Aventine, and wo;

A plague to strangers and to natives too:

Stern-look'd, strong-limb'd, a most prodigious masse:

Black Vulcane sire of this vast monster was.

In stead of house a desert cave, huge, vast

And farre retir'd, by which no beast yet pass'd.

Mens sculls and limbs were hang'd about his doore:

The clottered ground was strew'd with bones all o're.

Jove's sonne departing with his ill-kept croud,

The oxen stol'n unto their fellows low'd.

Oh, I'm recall'd, quoth he: and following then

The sound, through woods he rustles to his den.

A piece of rock barr'd up his wide-mouth'd gate:

Ten yoke of oxen scarce could move the weight.

He shoves with shoulders which the heavens could bear,

And with the motion up the load doth tear.

Which tumbling down, the noise doth heaven affright:

The pow'rfull masse the yielding ground doth smite.

First Cacus gives the onset with heav'd hands,

And fiercely deals with stones and burning brands:

Which being but vain, his fathers art to use

He strains, and fires from thundring throat he spues:

You would have thought 't had bin Typhoeus blast,

And clattering volleys out of Aetna cast.

Alcides drives on, and with knotty bat

Three or foure times doth dash him o're the pate.

He falls, and forth fire-mingled bloud doth poure,

And, dying, with his huge bulk beats the floor.

One of these heads to Jove he offers then,

And calls Evander with the Countrey-men;

And builds his Altar which is call'd the Great;

Here where the street derives the name from Neat.

[Page]Nor was Carmentis mute, but said, E're long

The gods Alcides should be rank'd among.

But this heaven-loved Prophetesse more bless'd

This day, engoddess'd, in this month possess'd.

In th'Ides the holy Priest for sacrifice

In Joves great court a wethers entrails fries.

Then to our nation every province came.

Then first Augustus was thy grandsires name.

Search, reade the statues through the minsters old;

So great a title hath no prince extoll'd.

One Africks conquest titles: these are nam'd

To shew the Cretians, or Isaurians tam'd:

Numidians this, and him Messanians raise:

From curb'd Numantia hath another praise.

Germania was both Drusus death and name:

Ah me! how short a vertue was that same!

Should Cesars conquests give him appellations,

He'd have as many as the world hath nations.

From some one action some renowned grow;

From bracelets tane, or from a lucky crow.

Magnus, thy name's the measure of thy deeds:

Yet he that conquer'd name and thee exceeds.

Above the Fabii's name there's no degree;

For their great acts Great fames that familie.

Yet all these humane celebrations are:

With Jove himself Augustus name doth share.

Old times Augusta call'd all things of state,

And temples which the Priest did consecrate.

From this words theme is Auguries descent,

And whatsoe're Joves bounty doth augment.

May he augment our Princes yeares and states,

May oaken garlands still protect our gates.

Still may this large names heir the cities weight,

By heavens ayd, manage in his fathers fate.

The third day after that the Ides are gone,

Th' Arcadian goddesse hath more sacreds done.

[Page]In carrs at first our wives did ride about:

(Th' are call'd so from Carmentis out of doubt.)

This privilege tane from them, all agreed

No children for such thanklesse men to breed.

And, to prevent, her embryon every mother

Forc'd from her womb by some close means or other.

They chid their wives for this their act abhorr'd;

But yet their custome was again restor'd.

Then to Carmentis they consent to raise

Two sacrifices, both for girls and boyes.

No beast self-dead her chappel will endure:

Because, unclean, it stains her altars pure.

Who e're thou art that lov'st old rites, the prayer

Assist; unhear'd-of names you now shall heare:

Postverta since, & Porrima w'appease;

Carmentis sisters or her mates were these:

The first, because she speaks of future things;

The last, because of matters past she sings.

Next day White Concord in a white church placed,

Where tall Moneta on high steps is raised.

Now be protectresse of the Latine train,

Now sacred hands have rear'd thee up again.

The Tuscane conquerour Furius of eld

Did vow thee, and his solemn vow fulfill'd.

The cause; The commons 'gainst the nobles were

In arms, and Rome did her own greatnesse fear.

This last is best: Brave Prince thy thundring knocks

Made Germany cut short her dangling locks.

Then gav'st thou gifts of that triumphed nation;

And rais'd'st a church for Concords adoration.

This did thy mother, Joves bed-worthy bride,

Endow with altars and rich gifts beside.

These things thus past, Sol leaving Capricorn,

His race-horse to the Water-boy doth turn.

The seventh day hence, when Sol his fierie wheels

Cools in the sea, the Harp a part conceals.

[Page]Next morn to this the bright starre that doth shine

In Leo's breast, is quench'd in Neptune's brine.

Three or foure times I search'd the Calendar,

But could not find a Seed-day any where.

My Muse perceiving, said, Seek thou alway

For Holy-dayes: that's but a Bidden day.

The day's uncertain, certain is the time,

When seed-big fields do sprout forth in their prime.

Crown'd oxen now at full-stuft mangers feed:

The thriving spring more work for you will breed.

His well-wrought plow the farmer on a post

Hangs up: the ground fears every wound in frost.

Farmers, let plowmen and manured soil

(Your seed-time finish'd) rest and sport a while.

Now plowmen feast, and now surround your corn;

And yearly gifts on Countrey-altars burn.

Ceres and Terra mothers of your seed

Please with big sow and fruits themselves do breed.

These two one common benefit maintein;

This yields the place, and she the cause of grain.

These two co-workers ancient times renew'd;

That nobler food condemned akorns rude.

Fill up the Farmers gapings with rich crops:

Yield some requitall to their pains and hopes.

With constant growths encrease you still their corn:

Let not chill snows the blade yet tender burn.

In sowing seed let smooth gales ope the skies:

Rain down soft showr's when underground it lies.

Scare grain-devouring flocks of birds away:

Because that they our Cereall wealth destroy.

Ye toyling pismires, spare the corn new sown:

In harvest-time more plenty will be grown.

Thus let it thrive from rusty blasting free;

Nor by the heav'ns distemper sickly be.

Not too too thin, nor yet too rank, whereby

To faint through too much prodigality.

[Page]Free all the grounds from eye-annoying darnel:

Let not an eare bring forth a chaffie kernel.

Let fields all yield in huge encrease rich wheat,

And rie, and barley, twice enduring heat.

Thus I for you, thus for your own affairs

Ye Farmers pray: may both Pow'rs heare our prayers!

Warres long have vext us; swords were more in course

Then shares; the ox gave place to th' haughty horse.

Rakes idle lay, and mattocks turn'd to piles;

In fire the spade to make a helmet boils.

Thanks to the Gods and to thy house, that long

Warres under foot have lain in fetters strong.

Let th' ox be in his yoke, in soil the seed:

Peace, Ceres mother, Ceres still doth feed.

The fifth before the Calends first begins,

Were temples rais'd to those Ledean twins.

Two brother-Gods to brother-Gods did make

These fabricks seated neare Juturna lake.

To Peace her altar hath our verse us brought,

Which is one day before the month goes out.

Sweet Peace, approch with Actian garlands crown'd,

And through the world continue thou renown'd.

Adieu all foes, though here no triumphs be;

Peace more then Warre doth Princes magnifie.

Let souldiers carry arms, arms to confound:

Let blaring trumpets nought but pomp resound.

Let Troy's brave race the world with terrour move:

Let every land that dreads not Rome, her love.

On peacefull flames, ye Priests, sweet incense lay,

And cattel with wine-dabbled forelocks slay.

Let pious pray'rs the yielding Gods attend,

That this calm house in Peace may time transcend.

But now the first piece of my task is done:

And, with our book, we through this month are run.

The end of the first Book.

OVIDS FESTIVALLS; OR, ROMANE CALENDAR. The second Book; or, FEBRUARIE.

[Page]

The Argument.

THe Etymologie of this months name.

St Safety's chapell. And Arions fame.

Great Cesars title. Nymph Calisto fair.

The Fabii slain. The Crow. Lupercals bare.

Pans love; the cheat. A Wolf the Martiall twins

Expos'd doth nurse. Wives pregnant made with skins.

Quirinus deifi'd. Fools-Holy-day.

To Parents tombs and Silence rites they pay.

Charistia. Terminus. Young Tarquines lust

Lucrece from life, himself from's throne doth thrust.

JAnus is done: Our yeare with rhythmes doth run;

And with the Month another book's begun.

Now Elegies your sails you 'gin display:

Me thoughts you were but little flags to day.

You were my nimble pages in my love,

When first our Muse in youthfull sports did rove:

Now Calendary Holy dayes you sing:

How should this new from that old subject spring?

This is my chivalry: these arms I wear:

Our hands not void of all imployments are.

[Page]What though our arm no javelins flight doth force,

Nor check the chidings of a foming horse,

Nor girt with sword, nor with a helmet fens'd?

(None but may vaunt in those habiliments)

We studiously, brave Cesar, search thy names,

And trace the Titles thy desert proclaims:

Accept this service with a calmed brow;

If freed a while from curbing of the foe.

Old Romanes did Purgations Februa call:

And now good signes they guard this word withall.

The Nobles from th' High Priest, and Flamen by

Took locks of wooll, call'd Februa anciently.

Thus were those purgings styl'd, that hot-salt cake,

Which at some houses Lictours us'd to take.

The bough was termed thus which was cut down

From Laurel-tree the Priests chast brows to crown.

I've seen a Pine-branch to Flaminia's hand

Deliver'd, when she Februa did demand.

What-ever, lastly, us doth purifie

Was styl'd thus by unshorn Antiquity.

Hence comes this month, because Luperci run

With goat skin-thongs in that purgation:

Or else because the balefull dayes now rid,

The season's pure, and grave-ghosts quieted.

By due purgation men in times of eld

All crimes and evils expiable held.

Greece thought (which first this custome did begin)

By sprinkling men were quitted from their sinne.

Once Peleus did Patroclus purge in water,

And him Acastus purg'd from Phocus slaughter.

Fond Aegeus vainly Phasis purifi'd,

Who on curb'd dragons in the aire did ride.

Alcmaeon did to Achelous say,

Purge me from sinne; he purg'd his sinne away.

[Page]Ah, too too silly, who imagine water

Can wash away that heavy crime of slaughter!

But, that you may the ancient order know,

Know Janus, as before, the first is now.

The next to Janus was the old yeares last:

And Terminus did end the rites all past.

Janus the first month is, as 't were the Gate:

The next was last, to Ghosts being consecrate.

Long after, our Decemviri ('t is thought)

These months farre-distanc'd both together brought.

In this months entrance, near the Phrygian Dame,

New Temples once enlarg'd St Safety's fame.

Where are those buildings in these Calends rais'd,

If you enquire: Time them hath quite defac'd.

Our sacred Princes Care and Providence

Our other from the like decay prevents;

And lets no wrong to them be done by time:

Obliging Gods, as well as men, to him.

Great Temple-founder and repairer too,

Still may the Gods have mutuall care of you!

May Gods those yeares which you give them give thee,

And for thy house stand to eternitie.

Then is the Grove solemniz'd, and th' Asyle,

Where forrein Tybris to the sea doth toil.

At Numa's shrine and in the Capitol

Of thundring Jove a two-yeare-sheep doth fall.

Ofttimes great gusts the mantled heavens do shed;

Or feath'ry snow the earth doth overspread.

When next days Titan dives the western stream,

And pearly harnesse takes from purple team;

That night one lifting to the heavens his eyne,

Sayes, Where's the Harp which yesternight did shine?

And seeking for the Harp, spies suddenly

The Lions middle drench'd in western sea.

The starre-embossed Dolphine, which to night

Is seen, the next night after shuns our sight.

[Page]For being Neptunes faithfull spie fix'd there;

Or 'cause he did the Lesbian Harper bear.

What sea or land but rings Arions fame,

Whose sweetest strains the swiftest streams could tame?

The wolf oft coursing silly lambs to kill,

The lamb oft running from the wolf, stood still:

Oft dogs and hares beneath one covert lay;

And harts by lions on a bank did stay:

At sight of th' owl the jackdaw made no prate;

And by the dove the puttock quiet sate.

'T is said that Cynthia did as much admire

Arions musick as her Brothers lyre.

Arions fame had fill'd the Sicil sea;

His lyrick songs did charm Ausonia.

He, with his riches purchas'd by his art,

Took ship into his countrey to depart.

Perhaps, poore man, thou dread'st the waves and wind!

But thou the sea more safe then ship didst find.

For lo, the Pilot, now a Pirate, stands,

And all his crue with naked swords in hands.

Pilot, what mak'st thou with a sword? throw't from thee,

And guide thy ship: those tools do more become thee.

He pale with fear; For life I do not pray:

But on my harp let me rehearse one lay.

They in derision yielded. He puts on

His laurell-crown which might become the Sunne:

Then dons his gown in Tyrian purple dy'd:

The fingred strings in measures due reply'd.

He sings in mournfull numbers, like a Swan

Whose hardned quills have pierc'd his ag'd brain-pan:

Then into water thus attir'd doth skip:

The battred billows all bedash the ship.

Whom on his arched back (most strange to say!)

The Dolphine takes, and bears him on his way.

He sits, and for his portage-wages sings:

The melting waves are ravish'd at his strings.

[Page] Jove and the Gods this piety beheld,

And with nine stars in heaven the Dolphine seal'd.

Now, grand Maeonian, I a thousand veines

Could wish, with thine Achilles-blazing strains.

Whiles holy times we sing on varying quill,

Still more renown our Calendar doth fill.

My breast falls short: beyond my strength I strive:

We speciall numbers to this day must give.

Ah fool, to elegize a weight so great!

This should have walk'd upon Heroick feet.

Hail, Pater Patriae! thee this title grave

Both Court, and Commons, and our Order gave.

Yet 't was too late: Thy deeds e're that claim'd more:

Thou wert the worlds great Father long before.

Jove's name in heaven is thine on earth: small ods;

Thou Father of mankind, he of the Gods.

Yield, Romulus: Our Prince thy walls doth keep

Invicted; Remus over thine could leap.

You curb'd small Cures, Tatius, and Caenine:

His Romane reigne out-starts Sols farthest line.

You but in small epitome did reigne:

All under Jove doth Cesars pow'r contein.

He honours Chastity, defil'd by thee:

Your grove did hatch, he stabs Iniquitie:

He fosters Laws; you nurtur'd Violence:

You styl'd but Lord; he, Universall Prince:

You tax'd by Remus; he is his foes Saver:

Thy father thee; he deifies his father.

The Trojane Lad now to the wast appears,

And sokes the earth with store of Nectar tears.

Now all whom Boreas rigid blasts made quake,

Cheer up; for Zephyr milder aire doth make.

When Lucifer his sparkling crest doth raise

In this fifth morn, the Spring begins straightwayes.

But yet take heed; there still remains some cold:

For waning Winter still harsh signes doth hold.

[Page]The third night after we may see in skies

The northern Bearherd with his feet to rise.

Calisto was the prettyest Lasse among

The Nymphs of quiver-girt Diana's throng.

Her Lady's bow she takes: This bow, quoth she,

I hold here witnesse my virginitie.

This Cynthia prais'd: Thy vow, quoth she, maintein,

And thou shalt be the Lady of my train.

Sh' had kept her promise had she not been fair:

All men she scorns; but Jove doth her impair.

From hunting thousand games in forrests vast

Diana comes about noontide or past.

Now in her grove with holms all overgrown,

Amid the which a clear-cool spring ran down,

Come Tegean Maid, and in the cool, she said,

Let's wash. She blush'd at that false title, Maid.

The Nymphs, all bidden, laid their coats away.

She grew suspitious by her sham'd delay.

Her clothes pull'd off, the swellings of her womb.

An open traitour to her shame become.

Avaunt, false Strumpet, from our virgin-train,

The Goddesse cri'd, nor these pure waters stain.

Ten times the Moon her horns to orbs had brought;

She's now a mother who a maid was thought.

Wrong'd Juno storming chang'd the wenches shape:

(O spare! She strove: it was thy Husbands rape)

And as the maid an ugly bear did turn,

Let Jove, saith she, in those embraces burn.

The shapelesse beast in forrests wild doth rove,

Which did erewhile enamour mighty Jove.

The Bastard-boy his fifteenth yeare did run,

When lo! by chance his mother met her sonne.

She, as she him had known, stood still (poor wretch!)

And groned: groning was her onely speech.

Her deadly wound the ignorant lad had given,

But that they both were taken up to heaven;

[Page]Joynt constellations: One we Arctos read:

The next Boötes doth behind succeed.

To hoary Tethys Juno vext more went

To banish Arctos from her watry tent.

Wild Faunus Altars in the Ides do glow,

Where parted streams about the island flow.

This is the day wherein the Fabii's train,

Three hundred six, were by the Veians slain.

One House a city's weight and burden bear;

And kindred-armies arms professed wear.

All out of one tent march couragiously;

Of whom there's none but might a Captain be.

Carmentis Gate's right hand to Janus leads;

(Go no man that way: it an omen breeds)

Forth by that portall march'd this noble House:

The Gate's not faulty; yet 't is ominous.

Soon as to rapid Cremera, whose banks

Were now brim-full, they came in speedy ranks,

Their tents pitch'd down, they rush with blades in hand

In Martiall prowesse through the Tyrrbene band,

Like lions of the Libyan breed, which tear

The scatter'd herd about the fields each where.

The routed foes base wounds on back-sides bide:

The blushing ground in Tuscane bloud is dy'd.

Thus oft they fall. Now when by chivalry

They nought could do, to policie they flie.

A plain there is inclos'd on every side

With hills and woods; close coverts beasts to hide,

Amid this field few herds and men display:

Among the woods the rest in ambush lay.

Lo, like a torrent puff'd by sudden storm,

Or banks of snow dissolv'd by Zephyrs warm:

O're corn and hedges it doth range and rage;

Nor can the banks its luxury asswage:

Even so the Fabii range about the field;

And, fearing nought, whoms'ere they met they kill'd.

[Page]O whither royall brood? O trust them not!

Right noble bloud, beware their treacherous plot.

Fraud murders valour: th' ambushment unseen

Rush into open fields and hemme them in.

What could so few against ten thousand swords?

What help was there which misery affords?

Like as a boar chas'd by a cry of hounds,

The yelping curs with thundring tushes wounds;

Yet falls at last: so they with vengeance die;

And take and deal their wounds alternately.

One day the Fabii did in arms array:

In arms array'd they all were slain one day.

'T is said the Gods provided that some seed

Might still be left in this Herculean breed.

For one young stripling of the Fabian race,

Unfit for feats of arms, surviving was.

Which, Maximus, was thee to propagate,

Who by delaying didst restore the State.

Three constellations near: the Snake, the Crow,

And then the Cup that's couch'd between the two.

In th' Ides they are conceal'd, but next night rise:

We'll tell the cause of their societies.

It chanc'd that Phoebus gave to Jove one day

A solemn feast: (My tale shall make no stay)

Go, Bird, that nothing may be wanting, bring,

Quoth he, some water from a running spring.

The golden tanker in his claws the Crow

Takes, and through aire with waving wings doth row.

A fig-tree full of figs yet green there stood:

He pecks off one: it was not fit for food.

His errand slighted, he among the twigs

Sits loyt'ring, till the season rip'd the figs:

Then fills his crop, and, catching up a Snake,

Comes to his Master, and this lie doth make;

Lo, here my let, the springs usurper, who

Kept me from water and my duty too.

[Page] D' you adde a lie to this vile trick of your?

Dare you delude an all-beholding Power?

For this no water shalt thou drink, quoth he,

Whiles figs in ripening hang upon the tree.

This Phoebus said: Crow, Snake, and Cup, all shine

Near-neighbouring stars, the deeds eternall signe.

The third day next the Ides Luperci bare

Run, and horn'd Faunus rites solemniz'd are:

Relate, ye Muses, their originall,

And whence derived to the Romane wall.

The old Arcadians much did Pan adore:

Who but Sr Pan in all Arcadia's shore?

Stymphalian waters, & green Pholoe,

And swift-stream'd Ladon may my witnesse be.

Pine-stately Nonacrine the same doth know,

And high-Troezene, and Parrhasian snow.

Hards, Groves, & Springs Pans power there did keep:

Pan had large offrings for protected sheep.

His countrey Gods Evander did translate

To this our city, then a city's plat.

Thence we that God with Grecian rites adore:

Here's still Joves Flamen, as was there of yore.

Why run they then about (you ask) so fast?

Why run they naked all their clothes off-cast?

The God himself o're mountains doth delight

To runne, and force men to a sudden flight.

The God self-naked naked makes his frie:

Clothes are a hindrance to agility.

Before Joves birth Arcadians till'd the land:

They say that nation e're the Moon did stand.

At first rude Boores devoyd of wit and art,

Like bruits unexercis'd in reasons part:

Boughs were their house, roots were the food they knew:

With both their palms for drink they water drew:

No oxen panted at the crooked plow:

No landlord as his own a field did ow:

[Page]No horse was us'd; legs were in stead of steed:

Sheep wooll for none but for themselves did breed.

With bodies naked they the aire indur'd,

To nipping frosts and sturdy storms inur'd.

Therefore they naked runne, in signe and honour

Of hardinesse and that old bare-skinn'd manner.

Yet for the chief cause why Pan doth detest

All clothes, Tradition tells a merry jest.

Perchance Tirynthius by his Sweet-hearts side

Walk'd, whereas Faunus on a bank them spi'd.

He eyes and fries, and, Countrey-lasses, cries,

None for my diet; here my Cupid lies.

The Lydians shoulders with perfumed hair,

Her breasts with glittring gold begaudy'd were.

A golden fanne Sols rivall heat repell'd,

Which Hercules kind hand before her held.

To Bacchus groves and Tmoles vineyards now

They came when Hesper in the West did glow.

A cave, by which there playes a chearfull brook,

With topazes and pumice arch'd they took.

Now, while the servants had prepar'd the feast,

In her attire her Hercules she drest.

She puts on him her purple wast-coat slender,

And girdle, which embrac'd her body tender.

Her zone's too little; and her wast-coats bands

He stretches out to thrust forth his huge hands.

Her bracelets break, not made for that intent:

His huge plaice-foot her pretty sandals rent.

His weighty club and lions spoils she tries,

And quiver-weapons of a lesser cise.

Thus, supper ended, both themselves apply

To sleep, and on two severall couches lie,

Because next day some rites to Joves Wine-sonne

They should perform, which must be purely done.

Pan comes (What dares not vent'rous love assault?)

In midnight-darknesse to the silent vault:

[Page]He finds the servants clogg'd with wine and sleep,

And hopes the same clogs did the Lovers keep.

In comes the Lecher bold, romes here and there:

His groping hands his warie ushers were.

At last he on the Lady's bed layes hold,

At first right happy in his venture bold.

Soon as he touch'd the lions bristly hide,

He plucks his hand back greatly terrifi'd.

Then trembling comes again, again goes back:

Just like a traveller that spies a snake.

Then feels he to the softer-clothed bed,

Which stood at hand, by couz'ning signes misled.

Up crawls he, and on th' hither side lyes down:

His member stiffer then his horns were grown.

Mean while the feet he softly doth uncover:

His thighs with bristly hairs were harsh all over.

Attempting more, Alcides from the couch

Throws him quite off: down lumps the lustfull slouch.

Maeonia at the noise for lights doth cry;

Which brought there make a strange discovery.

He, with his fall much bruised, grones and mones;

And, much ado, heaves up his heavy bones.

Alcides laugh'd, and all, at that night-rover;

And Omphale laughs at her goodly Lover.

The God by garments cheated, hates them all,

And none but naked to his rites doth call.

Muse, to these forrein adde our Countrey's cause,

And let our steed in his own barriers race.

A goat to Faunus slain, as was the manner,

Invited neighbours came to that small honour.

And while the priests th' embowell'd beast do rost

On willow-spits, about noontide almost,

The Martiall twinnes and Countrey-lads begun

Some sports all naked in the fields and sunne:

And with swift whorlbats, casting stones and darts,

They exercis'd their bodies strength and parts.

[Page]Behold a Shepherd on a mountain high,

Help, Sirs: thieves drive away our beasts, doth crie.

'T were long to arm: two severall wayes both run;

And Remus first the prey recover'd wonne.

Return'd, he draws from spits the hissing meat:

Quoth he, Let none but those that conquer'd eat.

Thus did the Fabii too. Quirinus there

Came now devoyd, and spies the boards all bare.

He laughs; yet griev'd that Remus Fabii

Should winne the game, not his Quintilii.

The fame continues: they all naked race;

And he that got the day hath got the grace.

But why and for what cause, perhaps you'l say,

Do we Lupercal call that place and day?

Nun Sylvia at one birth two God-got twinnes

Brought forth, her uncle then the Countrey's Prince.

He charg'd his men i'th' river them to drown.

O spare! what mean'st thou? Romulus is one.

Th' unwilling men obey the tragick King;

And th' infants to the place they weeping bring.

Then Albula (from Tyberine there drown'd

Call'd Tyber since) had overflown the ground.

Here where now streets are and the valleys low

Of th' ample Circus, cock-boats then did row.

Being hither come (nor could they further go)

In bitter grief thus burst forth one or two;

Alas, how fair! ah me, how like they be!

Yet this of both the perkest is to see.

If that the face the pedigree may shew,

Ʋnlesse I misse, a God is one of you.

Yet were a God the authour of your race,

He sure would help in such a desp'rate case.

Your mother would: but help her self doth need;

One day made mother and unmothered.

True twinnes in birth and death; together drown

In this sad stream. He ceas'd, and laid them down.

[Page]Both cry'd alike, as if they knew their wo.

These to their homes with watry cheeks do go.

A rush-boat on the top the babes upholds:

O how much fate that little cratch enfolds!

The boat by littles floting to the wood,

The floud decreasing, pitch'd upon the mud.

A fig-tree stood, the stump remains this day,

Then Rumina, but now call'd Romula.

To these poore Barns there comes a she-wolf wild:

Most strange a wild beast should not hurt a child!

Yet that was nothing; she assists and nurses

Those whom their kindred to their death enforces.

She stands and fawns upon the nuddling twins,

And with her tongue licks o're their tender skins.

Mars-got you'l say: They boldly draw the teat,

And so are nourish'd with unhop'd-for meat.

The Wolf that place, that place Lupercals nam'd:

She for her nurs'ry well is paid, she's fam'd.

Some draw Lupercal from th' Arcadian hill,

Where Pan Lyceus hath a chapell still.

Good wife leave craving; neither charms, nor vows,

Nor herbs can make thee mother of thy house.

Take patiently stripes from the fruitfull hand;

Thy father then shall be a father grand.

For 't was that time whenas their issues rare

Good wives with sad tormenting pangs did bear.

My rape of Sabine maids was all in vain,

Cry'd Romulus, (This hapned in his reigne.)

If from my wrong not strength but strife is grown,

I had farre better let those Dames alone.

A wood there grew to Juno's power divine,

An ages growth, beneath mount Esquiline.

Both men and women, all convented hither,

Right humbly fall down on their knees together.

Lo, suddenly the tops of trees did quake,

And in her grove strange things the Goddesse spake;

[Page] Ye Latine Dames, cries she, apply a Goat.

All stood amaz'd at that ambiguous note.

There was a Soothsayer (time conceals his name)

Who newly banish'd, from Hetruria came:

He kills a goat: the women, as was will'd,

To th' goat-thong-lashes their bare backs did yield.

Ten times the Moon her waned light did gather,

The wife's a mother, and the man a father.

Thanks, O Lucina! thee thy grove thus styl'd,

Or 'cause thou first giv'st light to every child.

O spare, Lucine; and when wives bellies swell,

Bring their ripe burden eas'ly forth and well.

When day appears, trust thou the winds no more:

That season hath deceitfull bin before.

The wind's not certain, and for full six dayes

King Aeolus his castle-gate displayes.

Aquarius with his stooping pitcher now

Falls off, and Phoebus makes the Fishes glow.

He and his brother (for joynt-stars they shine)

Bare on their backs (they say) two Pow'rs divine.

Dione flying terrible Typhone,

When Jove wag'd warre for heavens imperiall throne,

Comes to Euphrates with her little sonne,

And on the banks of Palestine sits down.

Tall canes and poplars on the margent grew,

And sallows hopes of her concealment shew.

There hid, the trees did rustle in the wind:

She pale with fear suppos'd her foes behind:

And, in her bosome culling her young sonne,

Cry'd, Nymphs, O aid two Deities undone!

Thus leaps she in; these Fishes her did bear:

For which in heaven now deifi'd they are.

Hence Syrians hate to eat that kind of Fishes:

Nor is it fit to make their Gods their dishes.

Next day is void. Quirinus he doth hold

The third, whose name was Romulus of old:

[Page]Either because the Sabines old that spear

Did Quiris call which him to heaven did rear;

Or his Quirites styl'd him thus their King;

Or cause the Curets he to Rome did bring.

For when God Mars beheld new walls to stand,

And great acts done by Romulus his hand,

Great Jove, sayes he, the Romanes pow'rfull are;

And my own bloud hath in their deeds a share.

Let me enjoy one Sonne; the other's dead:

Stand he in's own and in his brothers stead.

You promis'd me one of those brothers you

Would raise to heaven: Be Joves word ever true.

Jove gave a grant, and with his beckon shak'd

Both Poles: tall Atlas with his burden quak'd.

There is a place call'd Caprean lake of old:

There Romulus then chanc'd a court to hold.

About sunne-set grosse clouds heavens face withdrew;

A showring storm doth instantly ensue.

It thunder'd; lightning cracks the heavens. All flie:

The King on's fathers horses mounts the skie.

The Lords all mourn for his supposed slaughter;

Which thought perhaps might have remain'd long after.

But Julius Procul from long Alba came;

The Moon-light scorn'd the use of torches flame:

Lo, suddenly the left-hand-hedges quake:

He with his hairs turn'd bolt-upright starts back.

Quirinus larger then a man, and fair

In's Consuls robe, doth in the path appear;

Bid my Quirites not to mourn for me:

Their tears, quoth he, disgrace my Deitie.

Bring pious spice, and Romulus adore:

And practice prowesse with the Romane lore.

This charg'd, he vanish'd into gloomy aire.

He calls a court, and doth his charge declare.

They build his temple, give the hill his name,

And on set dayes adore him in the same.

[Page]Now learn thou why this day they also call

Fools-holy-day: the reason's apt, though small.

There were no skilfull husbandmen of old:

Our sturdy fathers toilsome warres did hold.

The sword was then in more request then plow:

Grounds unmanur'd small profit did allow.

Yet did our ancients sow and mow some barley:

Of barley Ceres had her first-fruits early.

This on their hearths to mend the tast they dri'd:

In which much losse for want of skill they bide.

For sometimes they sweep up dead coals for corn;

Sometimes the fire their cottages did burn.

Hence Goddesse Fornax came; to whom the Boore

Doth gladly pray his corn to dresse and cure.

Th' Archcurate then bids Fornacalia

In form of words, but makes no Holy-day.

And in the courts with marks for all mens view

The pendent tables severall wards do shew.

But simpler folk, who their own wards know not,

The day's last part devote, the first forgot.

To Parents tombs now orisons they pay,

And on friends urns some little offrings lay.

Small things please Ghosts; in Styx none greedy be:

Gods for great gifts accept true piety.

A tilesherd cover'd with a flowry crown

Sufficeth, with some salt and meal thrown down.

Loose violets, corn steep'd in wine a while:

Leave these i'th' mid-way heap'd upon a tile:

More I forbid not; yet thus pleas'd are they:

And on built piles pray'rs and words suited say.

These rites Aeneas, piety's true mold,

Brought into just King Latine's land of old.

To fathers ghost he paid solemnities:

Of whom our Countrey learn'd this pious guise.

But while successours in long warres did blaze

They quite neglected these Parentall dayes.

[Page]It cost them deare: For that offense (some tell)

Rome all on fire from piles of dead men fell.

Old fables bruit (but I can scarce believe it)

At this did dead mens shapelesse ghosts much grieved

Creep from their tombs and monefull howlings made

About the streets and groves in nights dull shade.

Thenceforth to tombs were due solemnities

Restor'd; which ceas'd those ghostly prodigies.

These dayes, young wives, keep from your bed-desires:

The marriage-lamp a purer time requires.

And maids, in your fond mothers eyes so fair

And wedlock-ripe, now lay you out no hair.

Hymen, put out thy lamps in these black dayes:

The mournfull tombs have other lights to blaze.

Let all the temples of the Gods be shut;

Nor fire nor incense on their altars put:

For now the flitting souls of ancients dead

Walk all about and feed on victuals spread.

But these sad rites no further may extend

Then till this month eleven dayes hath to end.

The latter day, which to the Ghosts they pay,

From bringing gifts is call'd Feralia.

Lo, now a grandame sits with maidens young,

And worships Silence with no silent tongue.

First in a mousehole on the groundsil she

Three spice-grains layes tane up with fingers three.

Then strings inchanted ty'd to lead doth hold,

While seven blew beans about her mouth are roll'd.

The head compact of mint and well bepitch'd

She heats by th' fire, with brazen needle stitch'd:

Then drops on wine; the remnant in the cup

She and her mates (yet she the most) drink up.

Departing then, W' have ty'd the tongues of foes,

She cries: then out in drunken garb she goes.

You ask it may be what this Muta is?

List what I tell, an old mans tale I wis:

[Page] Jove deeply wounded in Juturna's love

Endur'd much care, not fit for mighty Jove.

She in the woods among the hasils lay,

And sometimes in her kindred-springs would play.

The Nymphs he summons that in Latium dwell,

And to the quire his counsel thus doth tell;

Your sister-Nymph refuses (her own foe)

Her greatest good, the greatest God to know.

Befriend us both: for that which my great pleasure

Will be, shall prove your sister's peerlesse treasure.

When me she flies then stop her in a ring

Upon the bank from leaping into spring.

To him the Nymphs of Ilia divine

Agreed, with all the quire of Tyberine.

One maid there was call'd Lara, but of yore

The former syllable was doubled o're.

A vice her nam'd: Ofttimes cry'd Almon old,

Wench hold thy tongue; but yet she could not hold.

To mate Juturna's spring she goes; Avoid

The banks, sayes she; and then Joves mind bewray'd:

Then goes to Juno, pitying wives hard case;

Your Jove, quoth she, Juturna would embrace.

Jove much inrag'd, the tongue she did imploy

So ill takes from her: then calls Mercury;

Convey that wench to hell: hell fits the dumb:

Let her, if Nymph, a Nymph of Styx become.

His will's fulfill'd; they come into a grove:

Her keeper now with her doth fall in love.

Who forces her: For words with looks she prayes,

And with dumb tongue to plead in vain assayes.

Conceiv'd, she brings two Lares forth: who guard

Our streets, and houses ever watch and ward.

Next day deare kinsmen do Charistia call.

Now have we meetings in our houses all.

For 't is meet time from friends laid in their urn

On living kin our eye forthwith to turn;

[Page]And next those many whom black death hath slain

To count all ranks that of our bloud remain.

Come loving kinsmen all, but spitefull brothers

Keep off from hence with all inhumane mothers;

Who grieve at fathers or at mothers lives;

The step-mother that with her step-child strives;

Tantalian brothers, and Medea vile;

And she that scorch'd the farmers seed i'th' soil;

Tereus, and Progne, and mute Philomel,

And all that friends for gain do basely sell.

Kind kindred, spice to Gods ally'd now give;

(This day meek Concord most of all doth thrive)

As symptomes of your love together feast,

And range your dishes neatly sawc'd and drest:

And when at night you go to sleep, all stand

To make a vow with lustier bowls in hand,

And mount this prayer, all drinking off the Health,

Heavens prosper us, and Cesar Romes chief wealth.

That night now past, the God that doth divide

Mens land possessions is solemnifi'd.

God Terminus, whether a Stone or Block,

Thou wert a God too with the ancient stock.

Two severall lords on severall parts thee crown,

And lay two garlands with two off'rings down.

An altar's rais'd: the Countrey-wife doth come

With fire brought in some broken pan from home.

Th' old man cuts wood and piles it up on high,

And sticks in boughs about the ground thereby;

Then kindles up the fire with tinder sear:

His young sonne stands and holds the basket there.

Then when three grains he into fire doth fling,

His little daughter honycombs doth bring.

The rest hold wine: Each on the fire is laid:

The white-clad croud with joyfull voice applaud.

This God is sprinkled with a young lamb slain:

A sow-pig offer'd, he will not complain.

[Page]The homely neighbours feast with chear they bring,

And, Terminus, thy sacred praises sing.

Thou lands and cities and large realms dost bound:

Without thee suitfull would be every ground.

From avarice and all ambition free

Each tenement thou keepest faithfully.

Hadst thou assign'd but that Thyrean plain,

Three hundred men had not yerwhile bin slain;

Nor heaps of arms had crush'd O tryad brave:

Oh what a floud of bloud his land he gave!

And when the royall Capitol was rais'd,

All Gods to Jove gave way and were displac'd:

But Terminus (sayes fame) being seated there

Would not remove, but in Joves house hath share.

And now, lest ought but heaven he view, right over

His head the roof is fram'd without a cover.

Since, Terminus, be thou by no means light,

But keep the station where thou once art pight:

And let no landlords tricks nor suits thee move,

Lest thou preferre a man before great Jove.

And maugre thou art scratch'd with rake and plow,

Cry, This is yours, and this belongs to you.

There is a way leads to Laurentian plain,

Where once Aeneas pitch'd with all his train:

There, on the sixth stone from the city, I

To Terminus have seen sheeps fibres frie.

All other lands have certain limits given:

Our Rome with all the worlds wide room is even.

Now Muse relate the Regifuge; the fame

Of which the three and twentieth day did name.

King Tarquine did Romes Monarchy conclude,

A valiant souldier, but a Prince most lewd.

Some cities had he captiv'd, some ras'd down,

And by a wile the Gabii overthrown.

For lo his young sonne and his own sonne right,

Came into their foes garison by night.

[Page]They drew their swords; cries he, Me armlesse kill:

This is my fathers and my brothers will,

Who piteously have mangled me all o're:

(For which pretense he had been lashed sore.)

He's view'd by Moon-light: Up their swords they put;

And stripping him beheld his body cut:

And weeping simply they his aid request

In warre: He subt'ly promises his best.

And now in pow'r he sends his father word,

Fair way was made to put them all to th' sword.

A garden stood with savoury flow'rs array'd,

About the which a prattling current plaid:

There Tarquine had this private news made known,

And crops with wand the highest lilies down.

The scout brings word, He cropt the highest lilies:

I know, saith Sextus, what my fathers will is.

Forthwith the Gabine Captains all they slay,

And Romane colours on the walls display.

Behold a snake (most strange!) from th' altar crept,

Which quench'd the fires and up the victuals slapt.

Apollo 's sought to; whose reply was this,

He conquers who his mother first doth kisse.

The company Apollo's meaning miss'd:

Each man ran hast'ly and his mother kiss'd.

Brute was a fools wise counterfeit, to free

Himself from Tarquines direfull treacherie.

He straight falls down, as stumbling with his feet,

And with a kisse our mother Earth doth greet.

Romes conquering Eagles in the mean time over

The city Ardea in a long siege hover.

The foe, not daring battel, couch'd in forts:

Our souldiers revel in their tents with sports.

Young Tarquine makes a feast to all his lords:

'Mongst whom in mirth he falls into these words;

Whiles in dull warre this Ardea us deteins

From carrying tropheys to our countrey-fanes,

[Page]Do any of our wives mind us? or are

They carefull of us who for them take care?

Each prais'd his own, and very earnest grow:

The frollick bowls make lungs and tongues to glow.

Up starts Lord Collatine, Few words are best:

But come to triall; night's not yet deceast:

Mount we our steeds and to the citie all

Carier. Content: They for their horses call;

And straight were gallop'd by their speedy feet

To th' royall court. No watch was in the street:

Lo there the King's sonnes joviall wives they find

With garlands crown'd, at midnight up, well win'd.

Thence to fair Lucrece post they out of hand;

By whose bed-side the wooll and baskets stand.

At little lights their task her maidens spun:

To whom she softly thus these words begun;

Maids, we must make (plie, plie your bus'nesse faster)

A coat to send in hast unto your master.

What news heare you? for more then I you heare:

How long will't be e're warres be ended there?

Well, Ardea, thou that keep'st our Lords from home,

Thy betters thou affront'st, thy fall will come.

Be they but safe! but my Lords bloud's so high,

That with his sword he anywhere doth flie.

My heart doth fail quite chill'd with frozen fear

When-e're I think of his encounters there.

Tears were the period: She lets fall her thread,

And in her bosome hangeth down her head.

This was a grace; her tears became her well:

Her beauty was her minds true parallel.

Fear not, sweet wife; I'm come, cries he. She meets

And hangs on's neck, a burden full of sweets.

Meanwhile the young Prince furiall lust doth move;

His boyling spirits are fir'd in secret love.

Her lilie skin, her gold-deluding tresses,

Her native splendour slighting art him pleases.

[Page]Her voice, her stainlesse modesty h' admires:

And hope's decay still strengthens his desires.

Day's horn-mouth'd harbinger proclaim'd the morn;

The frollick gallants to their tents return.

His mazing fansie on her picture roves;

The more he muses still the more he loves:

Thus did she sit, thus drest, thus did she spin,

Thus plaid her hair upon her necks white skin;

These looks she had, these rosie words still'd from her;

This eye, this cheek, these blushes did become her.

As billows fall down after some great blast,

Yet make some swelling when the wind is past:

So though her person from his sight was tane,

Yet did that love her person bred remain.

He burns; and prick'd with spurs of basest lust,

Against her chast bed plots attempts unjust.

Th' event's ambiguous, yet we'll throughly try't:

That she shall see. Fate helps the vent'rous sprite.

We slav'd the Gabines by a daring deed.

Thus girts he on his sword and mounts his steed.

Into Collatia's brasen ports he came

About the time Sol hides his glowing flame.

A foe the Court doth enter as a friend,

And there was welcome: For they were a kind.

Ah blind mankind! she thinking nought, good woman!

Provides good chear to entertain her foeman.

The supper's ended: time to sleep invites;

In all the housen now are seen no lights.

Up starts he, and draws forth his gilded blade,

And chast Lucretia's chamber doth invade.

Laid on the bed; Lucretia, no deniall:

Here is my sword: I'm Tarquine of bloud royall.

Nought she replies; nor had she power to say

Or plead, but stupid and quite senselesse lay.

And like a lamb that from the sheepfold rambles,

Now caught in claws of ravening wolf, she trembles.

[Page]What dares she? fight? ah, he could overmatch her!

Cry out? alas! his sword would soon dispatch her.

Fly? how? his arm is link'd about her wast:

Her wast then first by strangers hand embrac'd!

The Lecher pleads with profers, threats, intreats:

She's no whit mov'd with gifts, intreats, nor threats,

Yield, or I'll damne thee for a whore, cries he,

And thee accuse for base adulterie:

I'll kill the man, with whom I'll bruit thy shame.

She yielded, conquer'd by the fear of fame.

Why triumph'st thou? thy conquest is thy fall:

Ah, what a price bought'st thou that night withall!

Now day appear'd: with scatter'd hairs she lies,

As doth a mother when her deare sonne dies.

For her old father and deare husband home

She sends: To her without delay they come.

Whose grief they seeing ask the cause of it,

Whom she laments, and with what evil smit.

She veils her modest face, nor any thing

Would utter; tears as from a fountain spring.

Her sire, her husband comfort her sad tears,

Pray her to speak, and weep in hidden fears.

Thrice she assay'd to speak, thrice stopt; yet tries

Once more, but shamed to lift up her eyes.

Shall we ow Tarquine this too? ah! shall I,

Shall I here publish my own infamie?

Something she tells, and for the period weeps,

And her grave cheeks in pure vermilion steeps.

They both forgive her forc'd adultery.

That pardon you give, I, cries she, deny.

Forthwith her self she stabs with hidden knife,

And at their feet pow'rs forth her crimson life;

And even in Fate's last act, as she did die,

Express'd a care to fall with modestie.

Her Sire, her Lord self-carelesse both fall down,

And o're her corps their common losse bemone.

[Page] Brute came, whose mind at length his name deceiv'd,

And from her dying breast the knife repriev'd:

There holds it spuing of her noble bloud,

And dauntlesse threatnings breath'd forth as he stood;

By this chast noble bloud I vow to thee

And thy dear ghost, which as my God shall be,

Proud Tarquine with his seed for this shall pay:

No longer I the counterfeit will play.

She at his words her sightlesse eyes doth move,

And shook her head as seeming to approve.

The manly matrone's exequies are done,

Endow'd with tears and emulation.

The wound lies open: Brute calls all the States,

And to their ears the Kings base act relates.

Proud Tarquine's house all flie. Two Consuls sway:

And that became the last Monarchick day.

Hark, heare the Swallow, herald of the Spring,

Adieu to Winter chearfully doth sing.

Yet, Progne, thou of hast dost oft complain:

Thy husband Tereus joyes at thy chill'd pain.

Now two dayes of this month are still behind:

To Martiall chariots are the race-horse joyn'd.

Which games from thence are call'd Equiria:

Mars in his field spectatour is that day.

Hail, welcome Mars; thy time a place doth claim:

The month's at hand that's honour'd by thy name.

Now strike we sail: Our Month and Book both done:

My boat shall in another chanel run.

The end of the second Book.

OVIDS FESTIVALLS; OR, ROMANE CALENDAR. The third Book; or, MARCH.

[Page]

The Argument.

THe Martiall Princes birth and pedigree.

This Month's Protectour, and prioritie.

Why women sacrifice to Mars do bring.

And why the Salii do Mamurius sing.

The Pontificiall title. And Vejove.

The Gorgon courser. And Lyaeus love.

More Horse-races. Perennall Anna's rites.

Th' old wife to Bacchus-hony-cakes invites.

Games in the honour of th' Athenian Dame.

Now blazing Phoebus backs the Phryxean Ram.

MAn-slaughtering Mavors, cast aside thy spear,

Thy shield, and helmet, and a while draw near.

Perchance thou'lt say, With Mars what make the Muses?

This Month we sing his name from thee deduces.

Thou seest Minerva hath her bloudy fights;

Yet she sometimes in liberall arts delights.

Have thou, as Pallas, some void time assign'd:

For out of arms thou maist imployment find.

Thou armlesse to the Romane Nunne didst come,

And layd'st in her the royall seeds of Rome.

[Page] Nun Sylvia (here our sail we hoise) something

To wash, i'th' morning went unto the spring.

Now when she came unto the wriggling brook,

Her earthen pitcher from her head she took.

There tricking up her flowing hair she sits,

And amorous aire to her bare breasts admits.

The streams soft musick, and the plumy quire,

With chearfull shades egg'd on a sleeps desire.

Inveigling sleep creeps on her yielding eyes,

Her hand slips down on which her cheek relies.

Mars sees and lusts, and in his lust doth speed,

And cunningly conceals his juggling dead.

She wakes conceiv'd, and in her pregnant womb

Conteins the Founder of imperiall Rome.

She rises faint, but did not know the cause;

And leaning to a tree she makes this pause;

Pray heaven this dream doth happy fortune bring

And good betide; Or is't some higher thing?

Me thoughts my garland, as I stood beside

My Lady's altar, from my head did slide.

From which two palms alike, (a wondrous thing!)

Yet one of them more eminent, did spring;

Whose fertil branches all the earth o're-spread,

And reach'd the welkin with their mounting head:

When lo, my uncle fain would them have cropt,

Smit at the sight, my heart for terrour hopt:

A Pie Mars bird, a Wolf too having young

Did take their parts, and rescu'd both from wrong.

This said, she weakly up her pot doth take

With water fill'd; she fill'd it as she spake.

Time runs on; Romulus and Remus breed;

Her belly's swell'd up with celestiall seed.

Now had the God whose rayes the world unmask

Two signes remaining of his yearly task;

The Maid's a Mother. Vesta's statue sham'd

With virgin-hands did veil her face; ('Tis fam'd.)

[Page]The altars trembled as her pangs began;

The frighted flames beneath the ashes ran.

To tyrannous Amulius this made known,

Who had usurp'd his brothers wealth and crown:

He gives command to drown the Brats. The floud

Abhorres the deed, and sets them on the mud.

'T is known, these Infants suck'd a wild-beasts teat,

And that a Pie did daily bring them meat.

Thee, Nurse Laurentia, I will not passe by,

Nor, Faustulus, thy plain rusticity:

The Laurentalian feasts shall sound your praise,

Kept in Decembers joviall-geniall dayes.

These sonnes of Mars to mans estate now grown,

On whose fair chins did bud the silken down;

The husbandmen and shepherds round about

To them for justice, in contention, sought.

Oft came they home all drench'd with robbers blouds;

And seiz'd their cattels as their proper goods.

Their pedigree's made known: Mars rais'd their spirits:

In stalls now scorn'd they to enlarge their merits.

Amulius falls by Romulus his sword:

And to his Grandsire is the realm restor'd.

The wall is rais'd; which though it were but small,

'T was ill for Remus that he leap'd the wall.

Where woods yerst grew, & beasts their dens did make,

The lasting City rais'd, the Founder spake:

Arms-Arbitratour, of whose seed divine

I sprung, and will thereof give many a signe;

With thee will we begin our Romane yeare,

And our first Month thy noble name shall wear.

His word's made good: this Month he thus did call,

And pleas'd his Father very well withall.

Yet their forefathers Mars especially

Ador'd, in honour of their Chivalry:

Th' Athenians, Pallas; Creet, Diana's Quire;

The Lemnian Isle ador'd the God of Fire:

[Page] Mycenians, Juno, and the Spartanes too:

And Arcadie Pan crown'd with pine-tree-bough:

Our Latium honour'd Mars, Warre's pow'rfull King:

Warres to our land both wealth and fame did bring.

Yea, if we read but forrein Calendars,

There we shall find a month surnam'd from Mars.

Faliscanes fifth month, and the Albanes third:

By Hernians 't is the sixth month register'd.

The Aricinians, and high Tusculum,

And Albanes all to one account do come.

The fierce Aequicoli's tenth month it was:

Laurentians fifth; the Sabines fourth in place.

Pelignian Nobles with those Sabines old

Consent, and this month for their fourth they hold.

But Romulus, to go beyond them all,

This his first month by's Fathers name did call.

Nor months so many had our ancestours

As we: their yeare fell short two months of ours.

Greece, then a well-learn'd but an ill-arm'd land,

No arts had yielded to the Conquerours hand.

The Romane art was all to fight and fense;

To throw a dart, the onely eloquence.

What man the Axle, and two Poles, or Hyades,

Did know in those times, or old Atlas Pleiades?

Who had the Bears, Charls-wain or Dogs-tail spi'd,

This Sidon's Pilote, that the Grecians guide?

That Cynthia's chariot in a month doth run

Those signes which all the yeare do task the Sunne?

Throughout the yeare startes notelesse rac'd and free:

Yet men were conscious of Divinity.

For signes of starres the signes of warres did they

Regard; whose losse was shame and great dismay.

Which, though of hay, yet made as great a show

And were as dreadfull as our Eagles now.

They hung in bottles on a pole huge tall,

From whence our souldiers by that name we call.

[Page]Thus learning-void and rude Antiquity

Did make their Lustres ten months lesse then we.

Ten courses of the Moon a yeare was then:

Men much accounted of the number Ten;

Either because we with ten fingers tell,

Or 'cause ten months a womans womb doth swell,

Or else because our digits reach to ten,

From whence our number is begun agen.

Thence Romulus did rank his centuries

By tens: Ten Pikemen to a rank did rise.

The Pileman and the Generall ten bands,

And he that did on horse-back serve, commands.

Ten companies he gave the Tatians,

Ten to the Ramnes, ten the Lucerans.

This usuall number kept he in his yeare:

Which time a widow mourning-weeds did wear.

And that this month (all question to remove)

Was first of old, plain arguments shall prove.

The Flamens laurel, hang'd up all yeare long,

Is now tane down, and fresh boughs up are hung.

The Royall Court is deck'd with Bay-boughs green:

The like before the Old-Court-Gate is seen.

The old dry Bayes from Vesta's Trojane fire

Are pull'd, and now she's prank'd in green attire:

Besides, fresh fuel in her inward shrine

Is kindled, and the fire renew'd doth shine.

'T is no weak proof, that th' old yeare here began,

In that we now adore Perennall Anne.

This month our Ancients chose their officers,

Untill the perjur'd Carthaginian's warres.

In fine, the fifth month hence we Quintil call;

Hence have the rest their numbers titles all.

Pompilius first from Sabine confines brought

To Rome the errour of two months found out:

Whether by that twice-born Pythagoras,

Or from Aegeria thus inform'd he was.

[Page]Yet after him times still erroneous were,

Untill reform'd by Cesars skilfull care.

That God, the authour of so great a race,

Did not account this task for him too base:

But study'd to acquaint himself with heaven,

And know that Court to him by promise given.

He by exact accounts Day's golden King

In his just time to every Signe did bring.

His yeare had dayes three hundred sixty five;

And to the Leap-yeare one day more did give.

Which piec'd-up day must to the Lustre come.

This is the yeare's exactest count and summe.

If Poets may (as fame abroad doth give)

Some private notions from the Gods receive;

Mars, tell me why thy feasts observed are

By Wives, when thou art all for manly warre?

As thus I spake, Mars laid aside his shield;

But in his right hand still a javelin held:

Lo I, the God of Warre, to Peace's gown

Now first invited, march to tents unknown.

Nor think I much some time here to bestow,

Lest Pallas think she onely this can do.

Thou studious Prophet of the Romane yeare,

Learn thy desire, and these my sayings heare.

Rome's elements were at the first but small:

Yet had that small great hopes of this great wall.

Those walls for Founders were too large a room;

But yet too strait for Citizens to come.

Ask you, where stood my Nephews Court of old?

That thatch there, made of straw and reed, behold.

On locks of hay he laid his sleeping head:

Yet heaven he mounted from that strawy bed.

And now the Romanes name was spread and gone

Beyond his place: nor had he wife or sonne.

The fruitfull neighbours my poore race did flout;

And I ill authour of a stock was thought.

[Page]In dwelling in plain stalls, in tilling ground,

And feeding sheep more hurt then good was found.

Both birds and beasts do couple with their make;

Engendring fellows hath the basest snake.

In other lands each man enjoyes his woman:

But none there be to marry with the Romane.

I griev'd; and with my spirit endu'd my sonne:

Cease pray'rs (said I:) it must with arms be done.

Keep Consus feast: that day, in which his feast

You solemnize, he will suggest the rest.

The Curets and the rest rose up in storms:

Then first the father 'gainst the sonne took arms.

Now were the ravish'd almost mothers made:

The kindred-battel still is long delaid.

The wives assembled all to Juno's Fane:

To whom my daughter boldly thus began;

My ravish'd Mates, 't is all our case: behold,

We can no longer piously be cold.

The battel's pitch'd: Now choose for whom ye'll pray:

That side our fathers, this our husbands fray.

We now must widows or else orphans live.

To you I'll good and noble counsel give.

They took her counsel; and their hairs let down,

And mournfull bodies clad in mourning gown.

Now stood the bands, resolv'd for arms and harms,

Expecting signalls of the trump's alarms:

The wives came running, with their babies dear

Cull'd in their arms, amid the armies there.

So soon as e're they came amid the field,

With locks all torn and scatter'd, down they kneel'd.

The babes (as sensible) with moving cries

Held out their little arms to grandsires eyes.

All those that could cri'd, Ave, presently:

Those that could not their mothers forc'd to crie.

Down fell their arms and anger; and, their swords

Put up, they all shook hands in kind accords.

[Page]Each hugg'd his daughter, and his grandchild held

Upon his shield: the sweetest use of shield.

Thence Sabine wives no small advantage challenge

To keep a day to me on my first Calends:

Because on naked swords they venturing

Themselves, our warres to friendly peace did bring:

Or, 'cause Nun Ilia mother'd was by me,

The Mothers honour my solemnitie:

Or 'cause chill Winter now takes his farewell,

And Sols warm beams the languish'd snow expell:

Frost-barbed trees their opening leaves renew,

The widow'd vine-branch pearly buds doth shew:

The thrifty herb, within the ground long pent,

Into the aire now finds a private vent:

Now frolick cattel breed, and fields all yield;

And birds on boughs their fost'ring nests do build.

Good cause have Wives, who vows and vigour spend

Upon their young, my pregnant times to tend.

Besides on that hill where that Sonne of mine

Kept Excubies, thence called Esquiline,

The Latine wives this day (or I mistake)

A publick temple did to Juno make.

In brief, and not to load thy memorie

With many words, the plainest reason see;

My Mother loves them, therefore they frequent me:

This pious cause doth most of all content me.

Bring flow'rs, ye Dames; with flow'rs fresh garlands make:

In flow'rs your Goddesse great delight doth take:

Say, Thou Lucine giv'st light to all our eyes:

Thou help'st the woman that in travail lies.

But let the big with loos'ned tresses pray,

So may her child more eas'ly come away.

Who tells me now why Salii in a ring

Dance with heaven's Buckler, and Mamurius sing?

Thou Nymph that Dian's grove and spring dost haunt,

King Numa's Wife, teach me: thy feast I chaunt.

[Page]A lake, much honour'd in religion stale,

Begirt with woods, stands in th' Arician vale.

Hippolytus, whom frighted steeds did tear,

Was hid herein: For whom no horse comes there.

There tapes, on which are many tablets hung

To this good Goddesse, veil the hedges long.

Ofttimes have women, mistresse of their vows,

Brought hither lamps with wreaths about their brows.

Men stout of hand and swift of foot are kings:

Each king at last his mate to ruine brings.

A giggling brook doth on much gravel fall:

I oft have drunk there in a draught but small.

Muse-lov'd Aegeria yields those waters clear;

Who was king Numa's Wife and Counseller.

She first the Peeres, too prone to live at ods,

With laws did temper and the fear of Gods.

Thence Laws (that Strength might not bear al the sway)

Were made, and men their vows did purely pay.

Wrath laid aside, most pow'rfull Peace became:

'Mongst Citizens a skirmish was a shame.

At th' Altars sight the furious man was turn'd:

And Wine and Wafers on the embers burn'd.

Behold, Heavens Monarch lets his lightning flie

Through crouding clouds, and rains the welkin drie.

A flaming citie makes not such a blaze:

The King and People stood in great amaze.

The Nymph cries, Thunder (be n't too much afraid)

Is placable: Jove's ire may be allay'd.

Yet must the means from Faun and Picus come,

Two Pow'rs that live within the lands of Rome:

Yet not without constraint: First catch them you,

And bind them sure. And then she tells him how.

A black grove stood beneath mount Aventine,

At whose first sight you'ld say, 'T is sure divine:

I'th' midst of which a pure perpetuall rill,

O're-grown with mosse, from stony veins doth still.

[Page]Here Faun and Picus us'd to drink. The King

Come hither kills a sheep unto the Spring.

There sets down wine perfum'd with spice, and then

Takes up a cave in ambush with his men.

The wood-Gods to their old wont came: the bowls

They turn'd off, blithe, and quench'd their thirsty souls.

Wine winneth rest. From's cave doth Numa creep,

And bound them fast while they were fast asleep.

They rais'd from rest, strive much themselves to free:

The more they strive the more they gyved be.

Ye Gods, cries Numa, pardon my bold act:

Ye know't no wicked, though a subtile fact.

Tell us which way may thunder be allaid.

Thus Numa. Faunus shook his horns, and said,

Great is thy question: We cannot aread

This hard precept: our pow'r is limited.

Grove-Gods are we; to us the rule is given

But of vast Hills: Jove orders all in Heaven.

Him you alone from heaven cannot call down:

Perhaps you may when our direction's known.

Thus Faunus said; and thus said Picus too.

But yet, said Picus, first these cords undo.

By speciall art Jove charmed (you shall see)

Shall hither come: let Styx my witnesse be.

Unbound, they teach them what to do, which way

To draw down Jove, and what strange charms to say.

We licence have to know; a pious pen

May chaunt such rhythms unfit for other men.

Jove is drawn down. Hence after-ages all

In celebration him Elicius call.

'T is said the tops of Aventine did move;

The earth shrunk down press'd with the weight of Jove.

King Numa quak'd at heart: his bloud affright

Ran from his veins: his hair stood bolt upright.

Come to himself, Great King of heaven, cries he,

Inform's how thunder may appeased be:

[Page] If we frequent thine altars with pure hand;

If our petition may with piety stand.

Jove yields; but yet doth in short riddles blind

The truth, and with dark doubts distracts his mind.

Cut off a Head, cries he. — It shall be done,

Replies the King: I'll cut an Onyon.

Of Man, saies Jove: — I'll take the hair, he cries.

The soul, quoth Jove. He, Of a Fish, replies.

Jove smiles: O Man that canst discourse endure

With Gods! do this: this will my thunder cure.

But when to morrow's Sunne is rais'd full-fac'd,

A pledge I'll give thee that thy realm shall last.

This said, he mounted with a mighty thunder

Th' acquainted heavens, and left the King in wonder:

Who streight returns with joy, and tells his Lords

The passages. They scarce believe his words.

But ye'll believe it if th' event proves true:

Mark what, sayes he, to morrow will ensue.

So soon as Sol to morrow leaves the land,

Jove gives a pledge that this our realm shall stand.

All doubtfull part. The promise seems too farre.

The day appears. Their faiths suspended are.

The ground was soft, with drops of pearl bedew'd:

To Numa's gate there flocks a multitude.

Forth comes the King, and takes his maple-throne:

A mighty crowd, all whist, about him run.

The Sunne appears but onely on his brim:

'Twixt hopes and fears their beating spirits swim.

His head with white veil cover'd, up he stands,

And lifts to heaven his God-familiar hands.

This is the houre of that thy promis'd signe,

Great Jove, cries he, confirm those words of thine.

As thus he pray'd the Sunne was fully rais'd;

Huge cracks of thunder through the heavens were nois'd.

Thrice in clear aire he roar'd; thrice did he fling

His bolts. Believe me, tho [...]gh a wondrous thing.

[Page]Behold, the heaven just in the midst doth ope!

Down to the ground both Prince and People stoop.

A shield from thence, turn'd with a gentle gale,

Falls down. A shout the welkin clear doth scale.

He takes it up, a bullock first knock'd down

Whose youthfull neck a yoke had never known.

'T is call'd Ancile, 'cause it was par'd round

About the brims; no corners to be found.

Then, knowing that his kingdomes fate did lie

In that, by counsel of great policie,

Of shields like-shap'd he bids to make a dozen,

That so an errour might the couzener couzen.

Mamurius, a man of great desert

As well for manners as his manuall art,

Perform'd this work. To whom the bounteous King,

As I am true, 't is thine; ask any thing.

Now he from dancing had the Salii nam'd;

Their Arms appointed, and their Canto's fram'd.

Mamurius said, I ask no meed but fame:

At their Songs end let them but sing my name.

From thence those Priests perform King Numa's grant

To that old merit, and Mamurius chaunt.

Would any marry? Though you both make speed,

Deferre't: small stay sometimes great good doth breed.

Arms cause a strife; strife wedlock should abhorre:

The time's more fit when th' are laid up therefore.

Jove's Flamen's wife, till these dayes be exspir'd,

Must also go undress'd and unattir'd.

Now, when this Months third night from heaven doth fall,

One of the Fishes is not seen at all.

Two Twins they be: this to the South inclin'd,

That to the North; both nam'd from either wind.

When Tithon's Bride her tulip-cheeks bedews;

And from the Orient porch the fifth day shews.

Whether the Bear-herd or the Car-man slow,

He dives the waves, and will no sight allow.

[Page]Yet may we still behold the Vintager:

I'll briefly sing the reason of this Starre.

Young Bacchus once lov'd hairy Ampelon

Of Ismarus, a Nymph and Satyr's sonne.

To him his Elm-enamour'd Vine he gives

To keep, which vine its name from him receives.

He falls down dead by climbing ventrously

For ripened grapes: Whom Bacchus fix'd in sky.

When next day's Phoebus steep Olympus scales,

And up the hill his winged race-horse hales,

You that adore chast Vesta's shrine, now joy,

And incense heap upon the fires of Troy.

Now Caesars endlesse styles, which he counts little,

Of gift, receiv'd their Pontificiall title.

Eternall Caesars Deitie doth cure

Eternall Fires, his Kingdome's pledge most sure.

Ye Trojane Gods, your Porters worthy prey,

Which grave Aeneas kept from hostile lay;

A Priest, from that Aeneas sprung, doth tend

Your hearth. O Vesta, his dear life defend.

Live long ye Fires fed by his hand divine:

Your flame his fame shall unextinguish'd shine.

One note's in Marches Nones: 'Twixt those two groves

Now hallow'd was the Temple call'd Vejoves.

When Romulus his rock girt grove had ended,

Said he, Who hither flies shall be defended.

How grew the Romanes! from what small foundation!

How clear of envy was that ancient nation!

But if this mystick name thou dost not know,

Learn who this God is, and why called so.

This Jove is young: behold his youthfull parts!

Behold his hand devoid of thunder-darts!

When those bold Giants would the heavens have pierc'd,

Then Jove took arms; who was unarm'd at first.

Then Pelion, Ossa and Olympus toild

With his vast load, in new fire-volleys boild.

[Page]The Goat stands by which did allow her teat:

The Cretane Maids the Infant fed with meat.

But for the Name: Vegrandia farmers call

Their ill-thriv'n corn; and Vesca, kernells small.

If this the word imports, as well may I

The name Vejove to little Jove apply.

Now when the starres embosse the gaudy sphere,

Look up and see the Gorgon Courser there.

From pregnant neck of wild Medusa slain

('T is said) he leap'd out with a bloudy mane.

Heaven was his footing, and his feet his wings,

Whiles 'twixt the skie and ruffled clouds he springs.

Then first a bridle curb'd his nostrils fell,

When his light foot digg'd up th' Aonian well.

Now heaven he holds, which oft his wings had mounted:

In whose possession fifteen starres are counted.

Next night thou Ariadne's Crown mayst see

Install'd Divine by Theseus perjurie.

Now she that gave her thanklesse Love the thred,

Had chang'd for Bacchus that perjurious bed:

Joy'd in her match, Fool that I was to mourn:

'T is my advantage that he prov'd forsworn.

The long-lock'd Indians Liber i'th' mean time

Subdu'd▪ and came enrich'd from th' Eastern clime.

Among the captive Maids which did excell

In beauty he the Princesse lov'd too well.

His Wife bewails, and, wandring on the shore

With scatter'd hairs, her case doth thus deplore;

Once more, ye waves, heare my old mournfull cares:

Once more, ye sands, swim in a floud of tears.

I Theseus once accus'd for perjurie:

He's gone; and Bacchus proves as false as he.

Once more I cry, No Woman trust a Man:

In change of names my act is new begun.

Oh, that my fate had its first course held on!

Now had my essence with my woes been done.

[Page] Why didst thou, Liber, me from dying save?

My sorrows then but one release did crave.

Light Bacchus, lighter then thy brow bound leafs!

O Bacchus, known, but to my tears and griefs!

Why hast thou brought before my nose a whore

To vex a bed so well compos'd before?

Ah! where's thy faith? those solemn vows indented?

Ah me? how oft have I these Dirges vented!

Thou blamedst Theseus, and him false didst style:

In thine own judgement thou art farre more vile.

In secret griefs I burn, and dare not tell:

Lest it be thought I am thus oft serv'd well.

O let not Theseus know't, of all; lest he

Triumph the more in thy societie.

Perhaps her white complexion you preferre

Before my tann'd: that colour be to her.

But what's all this? She's lik'd the better in

Her black defects: take heed she stains thy skin.

O keep thy vow; nor strangers beds approve

Before thy wife's! A man I e're did love.

The white Bull's horns my mother caught; thine, me:

But this thy base love wounds me heavily.

Make not my love my bane: thine did not prove

So when to me thy self confess'd thy love.

Thou burn'st me; 't is not strange: Thou wert conceiv'd

In fire; from fire by Fathers band repriv'd.

To me, O Bacchus, thou betrothedst Heaven:

Ah me! for heaven what dowries here are given!

She ended. Bacchus all the while did mind her

Lamenting, as by chance he came behind her.

He clips her wast, and tears with kisses dries:

Let's both, quoth he, together mount the skies.

Our beds are one, our names shall be the same:

And Libera shall be thy changed name.

Thy Crown with thee a monument shall be:

What Vulcane gave to Venus, she to thee.

[Page]This said, her pearls to stars in number nine

He chang'd; with which she now in gold doth shine.

When that swift Coach which purple Day doth guide

Six Suns hath hurry'd through the Welkin wide,

More Horse-races in Mars his flow'ry green,

Which wriggling Tyber laves, are to be seen.

But if the river overflows the place,

Then smouldry Caelius entertains the Race.

Perennal Anna's geniall feast in th' Ides

Is kept hard by where forrein Tyber slides.

All sorts together flock; and on the ground

Displaid, each marrow by his make drinks round.

Some sit in open aire; some build their tents;

And some themselves in branchy arbours fense.

For solid beams some stick in canes, and over

Their heads spread cloaks and blankets for a cover.

Yet Sunne and Wine inflames. They drink by tale;

And for each bowl pray for a whole-yeare-hail.

Some tipplers there will drink to Nestors time,

And with their cups to Sibyll's yeares will climb.

There what is learn'd upon the stage each chaunts,

And hands full nimbly to their numbers dance.

Bowls set aside, each with his trick'd-up Lasse,

Whose hairs are loos'ned, trips it on the grasse.

As home they come they stagger, view'd of all

The town for sport, which them doth happy call.

Yerwhile I met this pomp ('t is worth the reading)

An old wife drunk her drunken husband leading.

But what she is (because reports thus flit)

In telling I no fable will omit.

Sad Dido in Aeneas love yerwhile

Was burn'd, and burn'd upon her fate-built pile.

Her ashes urn'd, and on her marble chest

That verse engrav'n, made by her dying breast;

HERE LIES QUEEN DIDO BY HER OVVN HAND KILL'D:

[Page]DEATH'S CAUSE AND WEAPON DID AENEAS YIELD.

Numidians streight sans let the realm invade:

Iarbas Lord of captive walls is made.

Who, thinking of her old contempt, Now see,

Her bed is mine, though not her self, quoth he.

The Tyrians flie, each as his fortunes led;

As bees do wander when their king is dead.

Three crops to th' barn the barbed fields did yield;

Three vintages had fuming hogsheads fill'd:

Poore Anna is expell'd; and weeping flies

Her Sister's walls: first payes her obsequies.

The ashes soft drink up her oyl mix'd-tears,

And entertein her sacrificed hairs.

Thrice did she kisse the urn; thrice cry'd, Farewell.

Her Sister seem'd to her as sensible.

A ship and mates tane up, she fails on clear,

Those walls review'd, her Sisters fabrick dear.

Neare lean Cosyra lies a fertil seat,

Isle Melite, which Libyan surges beat.

There Battus reign'd, whose stores much wealth did fill.

Here pitch'd she, trusting in his old good will.

Who hearing of these Sisters fates, This land,

Said he, what-ever, is at thy command.

And this had lasted to the utmost houre,

Had he not fear'd Pygmalions armed power.

Twice through the Zodiack Sol had run his race:

She now must seek another exile-place.

Her brother arm'd there claims her: Battus he

Abhorring warres, and weak, said, Scape thou free.

Her ship she yields to wind and sea in flight:

No sea so cruel as her brothers spite.

Near stony Cratis fishie rivers lies

A little ground, there called Cameres.

To this their ship was bound. And now they came

Within nine furlongs of their wished aim:

[Page]Sails struck, they sally in uncertain gales.

Fall, cries the Pilote, to your oars for sails.

And while to hale their tackling down they hast,

Their ship is smitten with a thwarting blast.

In spite of Pilote's pow'r or skill it flies

Into the main: the shore forsakes their eyes.

Up start the waves; and up-side down they wallow:

The leaking keel the foming streams doth swallow.

Winds Non-plus Art. The Pilote now is prest

To use, for rudder pray'rs with all the rest.

The Tyrian Exul wanders up and down

The wayes, her apron o're her moist eyes thrown.

That time first Dido, and all those that were

Intomb'd in earth, were Happy call'd by her.

The ship is hurry'd to the Latine ground,

And all aland is swallow'd up and drown'd.

Now good Aeneas with his Wife and throne

Had well increas'd and made two peoples one.

Whiles with Achates on his land desir'd

He walked barefoot in a path retir'd,

He spies Anne wandring, nor could think 't was she:

What cause should bring her into Italie?

While thus he mus'd, 'T is Anne, Achates cries.

She at her name lifts up her mournfull eyes.

Oh! should she flie? or how? what cave at hand?

Before her eyes her Sisters fate doth stand.

She known, the Lord accosts her in her fears;

Yet at the thought of Dido's death sheds tears:

Anne, I protest by this land, which of late

Thou oft didst heare was given me by kind fate;

By my associate. Gods upon this bay

New plac'd; they often chid my slow delay.

Nor could I dream that death pursu'd her grief.

Ah me! her courage was beyond belief.

Relate thou nothing: Those unworthy wounds

I saw, whenas I walk'd the Stygian bounds.

[Page] But thou, did Will or Fortune thee here bord,

Partake of all my kingdome can afford.

Much thou, the utmost Dido's merits make:

Welcome for thine and for thy Sisters sake.

To his kind love (nor comfort had she else)

She yields her self; and all her fortune tells.

The Court now entred in her Tyrian weeds;

The rest all whist, Aeneas thus proceeds,

Just cause have I, sweet wife, to bring to thee

This Queen: in shipwrack she relieved me.

A Tyrian born: Her walls in Libya were.

I pray affect her as a Sister dear.

Lavinia promis'd; and her forged wound

In secret lodg'd, her jealousie doth drownd.

And, seeing tokens sent before her eyes,

She more suspects in subtile secrecies.

Still vex'd with doubt, she hates her like a fiend,

And plots how with revenge to work her end.

At night, lo, Dido with besoiled hairs

Before Ann's bed all smear'd with bloud appears;

Flie, Sister; use this sullen house no more:

Fear not. Thus speaking, th' aire did turn the doore.

Up starts she, and as nimbly as she could

Leaps down the window low: fear made her bold.

And wing'd with terrour, in her tuck'd-up coat

Runs like a roe that hears the wolf's hoarce note.

Whom horny-brow'd Numicius (it is said)

Catch'd up in's stream and to his spring convey'd.

Next day lost Anne with calls and cries each-where

Is sought: th' impression of her feet appear.

Come to the banks, her footsteps there are seen.

The conscious stream his murmuring noise held in.

She seem'd to speak; Numicius Nymph I live here:

Perennall Anne of this Perennall River.

Straight feast they in those wandred fields with joy;

And tippling chear their spirits and the day.

[Page]Some think her Luna, of whose months yeares grow:

Some say she's Themis; some, th' Inachian Cow:

Some one of Atlas daughters her would prove,

And that she first gave food to sucking Jove.

Besides, a story I have read, which you

Shall heare rehears'd: nor doth it seem untrue.

Th' old Commons once, without their Tribunes still,

Fled, and so pitch'd upon the Holy hill.

Now was their meat and usefull corn all spent,

Which they had carry'd when they thither went.

An old wife Anne liv'd in a suburb-stall;

A thrifty houswife, though her means were small:

She, in a hood her gray hairs having dress'd,

Made countrey-Cymnels with her palsie-fist;

And dealt each day her dole to all men there

Hot from the oven; wherewith refresh'd they were.

Peace made at home, the people did erect her

For this kind office a Perennall picture.

Now heare the reason why the maids in throngs

Between themselves sing certain wanton songs.

Mars comes to Anne, a Goddesse newly made,

And taking her aside thus to her said,

My month thee worships; my own times I've joyn'd

To thine; great hopes on thy good will I bind.

I King of Warres with Pallas Warres great Queen

Am fall'n in love, and long inflam'd have been.

Kind Soul, this office well becomes thee: see

If thou canst win my mate to wed to me.

With promise feign'd she yields to what he sayes,

And feeds his foolish hopes with long delayes.

At length he urg'd: W' have done't; she's won, cries she,

And much ado hath given her hand to me.

He credulous his chamber beautifi'd:

Anne veil'd is led in like a youthfull bride.

About to kisse her, Anne he doth descry.

Both shame and anger do his visage dye.

[Page]Deare Pallas Sweet-heart this fresh-Goddesse gull'd:

No action better please Dame Venus could.

For this old jests and songs obscene they chaunt:

Her jest on that great God is now her vaunt.

I thought t' have pass'd the Emperours Murder by;

When from her hearth thus Vesta did apply.

Fear not to mention it: he was my Priest:

Those sacrilegious arms did me arrest.

I caught him thence, and left his picture bare:

'T was Caesars shape those weapons dire did tear.

He, plac'd in heaven, admires Jove's Court of gold:

And in the Great Street doth a temple hold

But those, who dar'd against the Gods, and did

That act, defil'd his Pontificiall head.

Just death rewards them: Let Philippi shew,

And those whose scattered bones the ground do strew.

'T was Caesars work, his piety, his first grounds,

To justly vindicate his Fathers wounds.

When next Aurora dews the medows green,

The dreadfull Scorpions cleyes are to be seen.

The Ides third day doth Bacchus service bring:

Assist me, Bacchus, while thy rites I sing.

I sing not Semele, to whom if Jove

Had not come arm'd, thy name but small might prove:

Nor thee, an Embryon in thy Fathers thigh

Inclos'd, to grow to full maturitie.

Sithonians and thy Scythian triumphs fam'd

I passe, with Indians or Arabians tam'd:

Or Pentheus torn by mothers crueltie:

Or mad Lycurgus wounding of his knee.

Those Tyrrhene Pirates made Sea-monsters well

I might (but 't is not now my task) here tell.

My task is this: To shew th' originall

Why th' old wife neighbours to her cakes doth call.

Before thy time on hearths of Gods all cold

Grasse grew: no honour did the Altars hold.

[Page]Thou having Ganges and all India beat,

Didst giue the first-fruits to thy Father great.

Thou captive Spice and Incense sanctifi'dst,

And first in triumph Bullocks entrails fry'dst.

Hence from the Authour Libum takes the name,

By consecrating part on holy flame.

These Cakes are made to Liber, 'cause he lov'd

Sweet juyce, and Hony first of all improv'd.

From sandy Heber with his Satyrs he

Did walk. My tale shall not unpleasant be.

To Rhodope and the Pangean Spring

Being come, their cymbals all his followers ring.

Lo, troups of bees with that shrill Musick charm'd

Flie after, as the noise did lead, and swarm'd.

These Bacchus gets and in a tree-stock hives,

And so the glory of that gift receives.

When bald Silenus and the Satyrs tasted,

To seek bees nests about the groves they hasted.

In hollow Elm th' old God a swarm doth heare,

And sees the combs, but takes no notice there.

Anon he comes and ties his lazy mate

Fast to the Elm, as on his back he sate.

Up clambers he, and on a green-bough stands,

And to his booty thrusts his greedy hands.

Out of the hole a thousand Hornets spring

About his eares, and 's bald crown all besting.

Down tumbles he: his Asse about him laid

His heels: there lies he yawling out for aid.

The Satyrs flock, and laugh their Sire to see

With face swoll'n up. He halts on's Asse-kick'd knee.

The Wine-God laughs, and tells him mire is good

Apply'd: He simply daubs his face with mud.

Since, Hony is Bacchus due. A reaking Cake

With Hony moistned to the God they make.

Why Women deal therein, the reason's plain:

His ivy-staff spurs up their frantick train.

[Page]But why old Wives? That age most bouzie proves,

And most of all the pleasing vine-juyce loves.

And why with Ivy dress'd? This God that tree

Loves well. The reason straight shall render'd be.

The Nysian maidens Ivy-leaves about

His cradle hung, when him vex'd Juno sought.

Now must I shew why Gowns of Libertie

Are given to Stripplings on thy feast-dayes free.

Because, fair Bacchus, thou art alwayes seen

A Boy, or Young-man, or an age between:

Or 'cause, thou being a father, to thy care

All fathers do commend their children dear:

Or else because a gown and life more free

Is giv'n by thee, the God of Libertie.

Or, when old times the ground more earnest till'd,

And Senatours themselves wrought in their field:

When Plowmen oft did take a Consuls place;

And thick-skinn'd hands were counted no disgrace:

The Countrey-folk to see these Games would make

To th' town; yet for the Gods not pleasure's sake:

And Liber, who is now accompany'd

With Ceres, then these feasts alone enjoy'd:

Therefore, that more Youth might these games frequent,

'T was then thought best to give this ornament.

Kind Sr, your head and gentle antlets vail,

And guide my fansie with a prosperous gale.

On these two dayes (as I suppose) they go

To th' Argive Brothers, whom their Leaf will show.

The Puttock verges tow'rds Lycaon's Bear,

And on this night begins he to appear.

If you will know what him advanc'd to Heaven:

When Saturn from his throne by Jove was driven,

He in his rage the sturdy Titans arm'd,

And tries the aid the which the Fates had charm'd.

An earth-bred Monster was there, wonderfull,

Behind a Serpent but before a Bull.

[Page]This in a wood stern Styx inclos'd in three

Huge bulwarks, by the triple Fates decree.

Such was the fate: He that this Monster slew

And burn'd the inwards, should the Gods subdue.

This Briareus with Diamant-ax did foil,

And was just now his guts about to broil:

Jove bids the Fowls to catch them up. The Kite

Did his command, and so in heaven was pight.

Next day but one Minerva's feast revives,

The which from those five dayes the name derives.

The first no bloud nor sword-play doth admit,

Because Minerva was brought forth in it.

The foure next dayes the scaffolds all are fill'd:

This warlike Queen delights in weapons skill'd.

Come Boyes and Maids, your gifts to Pallas bring:

Her favour gives great skill in every thing.

In Pallas favour let the Lasses learn

To empty distaffs and to twist their yarn.

She also learns to make the Shuttle play

About the web, and how to fill the Stay.

Fullers and Diers, give her honour both;

You that do white, and you that dye the cloth.

No Shoemaker a shoe can fashion well

Without her help, though Tychius he excell.

He that Epeus shames in Carpentrie,

Becomes a dunce if Pallas angry be.

And you Physicians that diseases cure,

Salute this Lady with some gifts of your.

Dull Scholars curb'd in curst School-masters lore,

Your wits she quickens: honour her therefore:

Ye that mete heaven, and ye that Pencils use;

And he that stones to curious statues hews.

A thousand Arts she skills. She Verse doth savour:

Inspire my song, if I may ask that favour.

Where Caelius to a vale declineth prone;

The Vale's a level, yet no perfect one;

[Page]There Capt Minerva's Chapell you may see,

To her devote on her Nativitie.

The reason's doubtfull: She's the Minerall

Of wit, which quick is called Capitall:

Or else because her Fathers a king head

Her arm'd with shield sans help of wife did shed:

Or'cause she captiv'd with Phaliscanes came

To Rome; the foremost letter shews the same:

Or else because her law is capitall

For sacrilege within her Temple-wall.

What-ever reason thee this name affords

Still keep thy Aegis, Pallas, for our Lords.

The last day bids to purge and round the green

With trumps, and offer to that warlike Queen.

Now may you lift your eyes to heaven, and say,

Sol back'd the Phryxean Wether yesterday.

The seeds all scorch'd by wicked Ino's wile,

No fruits would grow, as they were wont yerwhile:

A message is to Delphian Tripos sent,

To beg some help for souls with famine spent.

He, with the seeds corrupt, brought word; Fates stood

To have both Phryxus and his Sisters bloud.

Time, People, Ino, all do urging stand

Th' abhorring King t' obey the sad command.

Phryxus and Helle crown'd with flow'rs stand by

The altars, moning their joynt-destiny.

Their Mother spies them, as in th' aire she hung;

And hands against her frighted bosome flung:

Leaps into Thebes, girt with a troup of clouds,

And snatch'd her Children from amid the crouds.

And, for their flight, the Ramme with golden fleece

Was given to both; which bears them o're the seas.

The fainting Maid with weak left-hand the Ramme

Held by the horn, when she that Sea did name.

Her Brother, whiles he strain'd to help, and gave

His hand stretch'd to her, scarce himself could save.

[Page]He for his double-dangers-mate miscarry'd

Laments, not knowing Neptune her had marry'd.

Ashore, the Ram was to the heavens extoll'd;

And Colchis kept his precious fleece of Gold.

When Lucifer hath thrice appear'd in heaven,

The balanc'd howers of Night and Day are even.

Hence, when the Shepherd four times folds his flocks,

And four times Earth bedews her pearly locks,

Then Janus and Rome's Safety are ador'd,

With Altar of mild Peace and meek Concord.

The Moon doth guide the Months: The Moon in fine

Concludes this Month, ador'd on Aventine.

The end of the third Book.

OVIDS FESTIVALLS; OR, ROMANE CALENDAR. The fourth Book; or, APRIL.

[Page]

The Argument.

THe pedigree of Romulus and Rome.

Fair April's name from Venus fair doth come.

Male Fortune's Incense. Atlas daughters rise.

Grand Cybel's feasts. Nun Claudia testifies

Her Chastity. Some Stage-games. Feasts divine

To Ceres, and her search of Proserpine.

A Fordy Cow is sacrific'd to Earth.

Now glowing Sol on Taurus back rides forth.

Palilia and Vinalia feasts. A pray'r

To hurtfull Rust. A feast to Flora fair.

ALme Queen of payring Love, Assist, I cri'd:

To me she streight her chearful eye appli'd,

What news with you? you had another strain:

What? touch'd, saith she, with your old wound again?

Madame, said I, you know my wound. She smil'd:

And straight that way the aire grew clear and mild.

Or sound or sore, I ne'r forsook thy tent:

Thou art my daily task, my ornament.

I play'd my part throughout my youthfull prime:

But now our quill a higher strain doth climb.

[Page] Times with their causes pick'd from Annals old,

Starres sets and risings doth our Muse unfold.

We come to th' fourth month, which doth thee renown:

You know, sweet Lady, Priest and Month's your own.

The Goddesse pleas'd doth lightly touch my head

With Myrtle-bough, and bade me still proceed.

I felt the virtue: All things straight grew clear.

Hoise up our sails then, while the wind blows fair,

And, Caesar, thou maintein'st as good a share

In April as in all the Calendar.

This Month descends to thee by pedigree;

Thine by adoptive great-nobilitie.

This Romulus knew when he did compound

The yeare; and thence his Parents both renown'd.

And as he gave to Mars the foremost place,

Because he was next Authour of his race;

So Venus many ranks before his mother

He Mistresse made of this next following other.

And turning o're Times rolls to find the ground

Of his descent, the Gods his Parents found.

Who knows not Dardan from Electra's seed

Did spring, whom she, conceiv'd by Jove, did breed?

Hence Erichthonius, who begat King Tros

Assarac's Sire: hence Capys next arose.

The next Anchises, with whom Venus fair

Did not disdain a Parent's name to bear.

Aeneas next, whose Piety try'd in fire

Brought severall Sacreds, both his Gods and Sire.

Now come we to Iulus blessed name,

Where Teucrian Sages meet the Julian fame.

Next Posthumus, who was, being born among

The woods, call'd Sylvius in the Romane tongue.

Another Sylvius of his father's name

Joyn'd with Aeneas, from this Sylvius came.

[Page]

He was Latinus father. Alba's time

Succeeded his; and Epytus next him:

This man the names of Troy reviv'd again.

Then Calpetus his grandchild next did reigne.

Next Tyberine his father's throne imply'd;

Who, drowned in the Tuscane river, dy'd:

Yet saw his sonne Agrippa, and grandchild

Stern Remulus, who was with lightning kill'd.

Then Aventine, whose mount doth still maintein

His name, succeeds. Next Proca took the reigne.

Next Numitor unjust Amulius brother,

Whose Wife was Lausus and Nun Ilia's mother.

Amulius Lausus slayes. Mars Ilia loves;

Who big by him with those twin-brothers proves.

Thence Romulus alwayes for Parents chief

Held Mars and Venus, and deserves belief.

And that succeeding times might know the same,

These Months he joyn'd in both his parents name.

But sure this name of Venus-month doth come

From that Greek nown that notes the waters fome.

Nor wonder we at this Greek word at all;

For Italy old times Great Greece did call.

Here came Evander with his fleet well mann'd;

Here came Alcides: both of Grecia land.

That clubbed Pilgrime did his herd display

On Aventine, and drank of Albula.

Ʋlysses too, the Lestrygons can tell,

And that same shore where Circe once did dwell.

The walls of Telegon and Tybur stand

Still extant, raised by a Grecian hand.

Halesus, forc'd by Atrides fate, here came;

From whom Phaliscanes did derive their name.

Antenor too, who would Troy's peace have wonne:

And Diomed Appulian Daunus Sonne.

Aeneas late behind Antenor came,

And hither brought his Gods from th' Ilian flame.

[Page]Sr Solemus from Phrygian Ida tall

Came in his train, who named Sulmo's wall:

Sweet Sulmo's wall, great Prince, my native land!

Ah me! how distant from the Scythian sand!

Well, Muse, suppresse these long complaints, nor sing

These sacred strains upon a mournfull string.

What will not Envy reach? Some, Venus, would

From thee the honour of this month withhold.

For 'cause the season opens every thing,

Grosse cold departs, and plants begin to spring;

From th' Open time they challenge April's name,

Which Venus with an earnest hand doth claim.

She pleasantly doth temper all the yeare,

And rule inferiour to no God doth bear:

She governs Heaven, and Earth, and native Seas,

And by her work mainteins each Species:

She all the Gods begat ('t were long to tell:)

And with warm seeds makes Herbs and Trees to swell:

She brought rude men to one harmonious mind;

And to his proper make each male she joyn'd.

What but soft Pleasure Birds to breed doth move?

Nor would Beasts couple if there were no Love.

The surly Ram will with a Ram knock horns;

But yet to hurt his lovely Ew he scorns.

The Bull, whose majesty doth aw the grove,

With smoothed brow doth gently wo his Love.

The same instinct doth guide marinall things,

Which fills with thousand fish the Water-springs.

She first Mankind's more savage life refin'd,

And first to comely habits men inclin'd.

A Lover in an ill-sped night his fate

First wail'd in verse at's Sweet-hearts bolted gate,

To wo his Wench Love made him eloquent:

And in his cause each man was excellent.

She hath discover'd thousand arts: Love did

Find many a notion which before lay hid.

[Page]Who then this Month to Venus dares refuse

To give? Avaunt that folly from our Muse!

Beside, she is a generall Pow'r frequented

With numerous Fanes: but most in Rome augmented.

She for thy Troy, O Rome, did weapons wear,

When her soft hand was wounded with a spear.

She put two Ladies down (a Trojane, Judge:)

Ah, may those twain not think of that old grudge!

Assarac's daughter she became, that so

Great Caesar might the Julian Fathers ow.

Nor can she have a fitter time then Spring,

When earth grows gay, and jocund fields do sing.

The heads of plants above the crack'd ground perk:

The vine begets new pearls in swelling bark.

So fair a season fits so fair a Queen;

Here joynd with Mars, as she before hath been.

She now the wary Mariners calls down

To natiue seas, not fearing Winters frown.

Ye Latine Maids and Wives, and all that wear

No veil nor stole, adore this Goddesse fair.

Your golden fillets from white necks unbind:

Let other flow'rs, and roses fresh be joynd.

You she invites with Myrtles veil'd to lave:

Attend: the reason's certain that I have.

Her dropping locks once on a bank she dry'd;

The wanton Satyrs her all naked spy'd:

Which known, she with a myrtle hides her breast,

And was conceal'd. Which is by you exprest.

Learn why ye Incense to Male Fortune bring,

Near to the banks of Tybers gelid spring.

That place receives you all stript to the skin,

Where each defect in every part is seen.

Male Fortune, pleas'd but with a little spice,

Hides from your husbands all deformities.

Pure milk may ye and seeds of poppy grownd

With hony squeez'd out of the comb compound.

[Page]When Venus to her boorish Mate was led,

She drank of this, and left her Maidenhead.

With humble pray'rs adore her: She procures,

That beauty, carriage, and good name endures.

Through abstinence Rome's youth in time decay'd;

Our fathers search'd the old Cumaean Maid.

She bids a Chapell unto Venus build:

Which finish'd, Venus did her favour yield.

Sweet Queen, to thy Sonne's race thy kind eye bend

Thus alwayes, and thy numerous Dames defend.

But see! the Scorpion with his dreadfull tail

Advanc'd, falls headlong to the waters pale.

This night once past; when heaven is dy'd again

With purple blush; and dabbled birds complain:

When watchfull travellers their lights half-burn'd

Have quench'd; and Peasants to their work return'd:

Old Atlas Daughters o're his head are mounted;

Which are but six in sight, though seven accounted:

Because but six did match with Pow'rs Divine:

For Sterope (they say) with Mars did joyn;

Neptune did Alcyon and Celaeno love;

Taygeta, May, Electra lay with Jove.

With mortall Sisyphus match'd Merope:

For which she grieving loves obscuritie.

Or, at the ruines of her Trojane race

Electra griev'd, with hands did hide her face.

Thrice more let Heaven on constant axles course;

Let Sol thrice harnesse and knock off his horse:

Then straight the Phrygian Horn-pipe doth resound,

Th' Idaean Grandames feast is now renown'd.

Her eunuchs marching beat their tabrets hollow:

From brasse-knock'd brasse a noise a noise doth follow.

She, carry'd on her servants necks in pride,

About the streets is whooted to, and cri'd.

Resort, ye Nobles; Scenes and Shews do call:

Now in the Court be there no suits at all.

[Page]More I should mention; but the brasse-shrill sound

And horrid Lotos-pipe doth me confound.

Help, Cybele. She cast her courteous eye

On her learn'd Nieces, and bade them apply.

Ye Thespian Sisters, mindfull of her voice,

Shew why she's pleas'd with such continuall noise.

Thus I. Then Erato, (This month to her

Gives place, because the name of Love she bare.)

This Fate was given to Saturn; Mighty King,

A Sonne of thine thee from thy throne shall fling.

He fearing this devoureth every child

As it came forth, and in his guts it kill'd.

Oft Rhea mourn'd she could no Mother be,

Though pregnant; and bewail'd fertilitie.

Jove's born: Antiquity's the Testament:

Why should we tax a truth so ancient?

His throat almighty gulps a swathed stone:

Fates did allow this cheat of him alone.

Long had a tinkling rung in Ida tall,

That so the Infant might in safety brall.

The Corybantes and Curetes, some

On ringling helmets, some on bucklers drum.

The Child's conceal'd. In signe of this therefore

Her followers make their brasse and parchments rore.

For helmets, cymbals; drums they beat for shields:

The pipe those ancient Phrygian tunes still yields:

She ceas'd: I ask'd, But why do Lions stout,

Which scorn the harnesse, draw her coach about?

I ceas'd: She answer'd, She Ferocity

Restrains; and this her coach doth testifie.

Why wears she on her head a towred Crown?

Because she first gave tow'rs to every town?

She lik'd. Said I, Whence comes that fury then

To geld themselves? The Muse reply'd agen,

Young Atys beauty all the woods surpass'd:

He joyn'd with this towr'd Queen in love most chast.

[Page]Be e're a Boy; reserve thy self for me;

And take, quoth she, my Temples custodie.

His troth he plighted: If, said he, I lie,

Be that my last Love for my falsitie.

He ly'd; and with the Sangaritian Maid

Was stain'd. The Goddesse vow'd revenge, betray'd.

The Nymph, by cutting off her tree, she gives

A fatall wound. Their fates were relatives.

He runs stark mad; and, thinking o're his head

His house beat down, to Dindymus he fled.

Sometimes he rores, O hold your lashes fell!

O stay your brands! I feel the Hags of hell!

Then lanch'd his flesh with stones, and on the dirt

Drags his long locks: O this is my desert!

And with my bloud deserv'd revenge I presse:

Confounded be those parts which did transgresse!

Confounded be they. And so off he reft

His shame: No symptomes of his sex were left.

This is their pattern: Her gelt Priests from hence

Pluck off their locks and cut their Pudiments.

Thus by the musick of th' Aenian Quire

I did enjoy the cause of my desire.

Now, Lady Muse, relate: Whence came this Queen?

Or hath she ever in our city been?

Grove-gaudy Ida, Dindym, Cybele,

And wealthy Troy she lov'd perpetually.

And when Aeneas Italized Troy,

She was about to follow him on's way:

But Fates inform'd her, that as yet that nation

Requir'd her not. And so she kept her station.

But when rich Rome had now five ages view'd,

And rais'd her crest above the world subdu'd,

The Priest our Sibylls fate-recording lines

Reads o're, and there this grand instruction finds;

You want your Mother: Romanes, her in hast

Go seek, and give her enterteinment chast.

[Page] The fathers in these dark Maeanders were

Confus'd: What Goddesse to be sought? and where?

They send to Phoebus: Seek the Mother grand

Of Gods, saith he: She's in th' Idaean land.

Lords are dispatch'd. Then Attalus was King

Of Phrygia; who denies to them the thing.

Strange things I sing. The rumbling ground doth shake;

And thus the Goddesse from her chapell spake,

Make hast, and send me: My desire's to Rome:

Rome is a place that doth all Gods become.

He, frighted at the voices fear, cries, Go:

Ours thou shalt be; Rome from our stock doth grow.

A thousand axes straight those Pine-groves smite,

Which good Aeneas yerst imply'd in flight.

Thousands are muster'd: And a painted barge

Of Heavens great Grandame now doth take the charge.

She sails most safely through her Nephews rea'm,

And salleys o're the Hellesponts long stream:

Then pass'd Rhoeteum and Sigeum o're,

And Tened, and old Etion's wealthy shore:

Then fetch'd the Cyclads, Lesbos at their backs,

And where Caristo's shore the waves refracts:

Then sails Icarium, where the molten fall

Of Icarus the waters so did call.

Creet on the left, o'th' right hand Pelop's main

She leaves; then lanches to Cithaeron's plain:

Hence to Trinacria, where in boyling steel

Steropians, Brontians, and Acmonians deal:

Then plows the Libyan sea, and o'th' left hand

Sardinia views; hence reach'd th' Ausonian land.

There sounds that mouth, where Tyber to the main

Payes rent, and ranges in a broader plain.

The Peers and Commons with the Senates ranks

Came forth to meet her at the Tuscane banks.

The matrones with their husbands and their sonnes

Went forth, and all the holy Vestall Nuns.

[Page] The strained ropes mens toilsome hands do wring;

Yet to the port the Barge they scarce can bring.

The time was dry; much heat had parch'd the land:

The laden Barge sinks into mirie sand.

Each Labourer more then his share doth toil;

And with loud whoots helps his stout hands each-while.

That, like an island in the sea, to th' ground

Sticks fast. The wonder strikes them all astound.

Nun Claudia sprung of Clausus progeny,

Whose beauty equall'd her nobility:

A maid, but not so counted; being abus'd

By base report, and wrongfully accus'd.

Her habits brave, and musick so delicious,

And spruce attires did make her more suspicious.

Her conscience clear derides the lies of fame:

Yet we are prone to credit words of blame.

She steps before the Nuns religious train,

And in her hands takes up some water clean:

Thrice dews her head; thrice lifts her hand to th' skie.

All think her frantick that her gestures eye.

Then on her humble knee with loosned hair

She eyes the Goddesse, and thus makes her prayer,

Alm Mother of the Powers celestiall,

Accept thy suppliants pray'rs conditionall.

My shame is tax'd: I yield if thou accuse:

If thou condemn me, death I'll not refuse.

But if I'm clear, then give a reall signe:

Chast Mother, follow these chast hands of mine.

This said, she drew the rope with strength but small;

(I speak a truth, though strange, yet generall.)

The Goddesse follows, and therewith commends

Her Leader: Joy to heaven a huge shout sends.

Now came they to the bending which old dayes

Call'd Tyber's Court: hence turns he left-hand-wayes.

Night came: The rope t' an oaken stump they tye;

And, being repasted, down to sleep they lye.

[Page] Light came: The rope from th' oaken stump th' unty'd;

But incense first on altars built apply'd;

And crown'd the ship: Then kill a heifer clear

Which never bull nor servile yoke did bear.

There is a place where Almo doth resigne

His stream and name to nobler Tyberine:

There doth the Priest, in purple robe most grave,

In Almo's stream her and her Sacreds lave.

Her followers hollow. Furious pipes resound:

And velome thumpt t' her Eunuch's hands redound.

Joy'd Claudia honour'd walks before, at last

By heavenly witnesse scarce concluded chast.

She in her wain into Capena-gate

Is brought; her oxen strew'd with flow'rs in state.

Nasica takes her, not her Temples authour:

Metellus was; but now Augustus rather.

Here Erato stay'd, till I question'd more.

Shew why small toll, said I, augments her store?

With coin collected, answered she, her sane

Metellus rais'd: thence is that custome ta'n.

But why, said I, do men, now frequent Guests,

By course solemnize her appointed feasts?

Because that she so happy a change did make

Of places, they this varying omen take.

Why then are her games Megalesia

By Rome kept first? To this my Muse did say,

She bred the Gods: They give their Mother place:

And so the first Games celebrate her grace.

Why then do they her Eunuchs Galli call;

When Phrygia is so distant from the Gaul?

A frantick stream call'd Gallus runs between

Celenae high and Cybel's verges green:

It causes madnesse: Fly it all, in sadnesse,

That love your wits: The water worketh madnesse.

Ʋpon her table 't is, said I, in season

To set herb-puddings: Is there any reason?

[Page] Old times, said she, of milk and herbs did feed,

Such as the earth without controll did breed.

Curds mixt with boil'd herbs serve her boord; that so

An ancient Pow'r those ancient meats might know.

When starres are banish'd, and Pallantias shines

In th' East, and Luna her white teem disjoyns,

Upon Quirinus we may truly say

Was Publick Fortune consecrate this day.

The third to this brings Stage-games; which as I

Beheld, thus spake a grave Gentile plac'd by,

This day did Caesar on the Libyan ground

Perjurious Juba's stubborn arms confound.

I serv'd a Tribune under Caesars banner

Lord of my actions; which I count my honour.

My warfare me, this place thy Gown gave thee,

Both rais'd to th' office of Decemviri.

From this discourse w' are call'd off by a showre:

The pendent Tankerd airie drops did poure.

But e're the evening doth the sights conclude,

Sword-arm'd Orion in the waves is stew'd.

When next Tithonia views victorious Rome,

And posting starres give place to Titans Groom,

Large pomps, with ranks of Gods, the Circus grace,

And aire-foot Coursers for the first prize race.

Then Ceres games. The Cause need not b' express'd:

Her favours of themselves are manifest.

Green Herbs at first were hungry fathers food,

To them afforded from the earth unwoo'd.

Sometimes young stalks they gather'd here and there:

And tender sprouts did make them goodly chear.

They thought them wel when they had found out Mast▪

The Oak did yield them many a rich repast.

First Ceres men with nobler meats did store;

And into better food turn'd akorns poore.

She oxens brawny necks to th' plow subdu'd.

Then first the lanched ground Sol's lustre view'd.

[Page]Then Brasse was priz'd; Steel great content did yield:

Ah, would that stuff had ever bin conceal'd!

She joyes in peace: No pray'rs, ye Farmers, cease

For peace perpetuall and our Prince of peace.

Meal mix'd with salt to her may you present,

And make th' old altars fumes of incense vent.

Or else for incense light your tapers greas'd.

With little gifts, if pure, is Ceres pleas'd.

Priests, spare the Oxens harmlesse lives; They plow:

Present the lazy soil-bemoiling Sow.

'T is pitty an industrious life be slain:

Let it subsist and in her fields take pain.

This place invites the Virgins rape to shew.

Heare many things comprized in a few.

A land with three rocks crouds into the sea,

From its Triangle call'd Trinacria:

Belov'd of Ceres; plentifully town'd:

There stands fair Enna on a fertil ground.

Cold Arethuse the Dames of heaven invites:

The corn-crown'd Goddesse comes to those delights.

Her Daughter, tended with her usuall train,

Walk'd barefoot up and down her flow'ry plain.

Hard by a grovy vale a flat doth lie,

Well water'd with a sources fall from high.

The gaudy mead her pride much vary'd, clad

With all the colours Lady Nature had.

Which soon as spi'd, Come Playfellows, cries she,

And fill your aprons full of flow'rs with me.

Young Maidens minds delight in trifling spoil;

And fond desire calls off the sense of toil.

This fills her basket of fine osiers made;

This stores her apron; she her coats doth lade.

This Marigolds; she plies the Violet-beds:

Her dainty finger crops the Poppy-heads.

On Hyacynth and Amaranth some dote:

Some Thyme, some Crowfoot, some love Melilote

[Page]And other flow'rs: The Rose doth much delight:

She plucks the Saffron and the Lily white.

Her busie mind still further off doth bear her;

And (as it chanc'd) none of her mates were near her:

Her Uncle spies her, and on sooty steeds

Rapes her away, and to his kingdome speeds.

She cries, and calls out, Io my Mother dear,

I'm forc'd away; and off her clothes doth tear.

Forthwith the vault of Pluto doth display:

His light-auk steeds could not abide the day.

Her Maids, their baskets fill'd with flowery treasures,

Cri'd, Ho Persephone, come see thy pleasures.

When nought was heard, with cries they fill the dale,

And smite their hands against their bosomes pale.

Ceres amaz'd at this to Enna flies;

And straight, Ah wofull! Where's my Girl? she cries.

About she hurries in a dead distraction,

Like shrews of Bacchus in their frantick action:

Or as a Cow, rob'd of her late-calv'd Love,

Runs sadly lowing all about the grove;

So she could neither sighs nor flight refrain,

But runs, and first begins at Enna's plain.

There first her daughter's footsteps she doth note:

The ground betrayes the passage of her foot.

Perchance she then had search'd the furthest ground,

Had not some swine disturb'd the tract she found.

The Leontini, and Anisus mazes

She search'd, with all the medow-grounds of Acis:

Then Cyane, and mild Anapus fount,

And over Gela's dangerous gulf doth mount:

Then o're Orlygia and Pantagia goeth,

And Megara; then o're Simethus mouth:

Next to the Cyclops sooty forge she hy'th;

Thence to that place nam'd from the crooked Sithe.

Then Himere, Didym, Agrigentum, and

Tauromenus; thence to Mela's Holy-Ox-land.

[Page]Next Camarine with Swanny Tempe fair,

And Thapsos; Eryx free to Western air:

Then search'd she Pachyne, Pelore, Lilybe,

Her Countrey's horn-like promontories three.

Each nook she fills with monefull Elegies,

As when the Lapwing to his Itys cries.

Sometimes, Persephone; sometimes she cry'd,

My Daughter; and by course both names imply'd:

But no Persephone could Ceres heare;

Nor Daughter, Mother: Vain both titles were.

When she a Shepherd or a Plowman spi'd,

Saw you no Damsel passe this way? she cri'd.

Nights cole-black colour now alone possess'd

All things: now watchfull tongues of dogs did rest.

Where Aetna high Typhoeus vast bulk tires,

Whose ground is scorch'd with ever-spuing fires;

Here for her torch two Pines she doth inflame:

Hence in her rites the Torches custome came.

There is a cave of rugged pumice made,

Which neither man nor beast could e're invade:

Here when she came, her bridled snakes she tyes

T' her coach, and dry-foot o're the water flies.

Next raught the Syrts, and to Charybdis pass'd,

And those naufragious Dogs of Scylla vast;

The spacious Adriack, and Corinthum bound

Within two seas; hence reach'd the Attick ground.

Sad, on a stone here rests she first of all,

Which stone th' Athenians hence from Sadnesse call.

There many dayes in th' air she did remain

Unstirr'd, and patient both of cold and rain.

No place but hath its fate. Now Cereall

Eleusis then was Celeus farm but small.

He home was trudging with a trusse of wood,

With mast and berries from the hedge, for food.

His daughter with two goats from field did come:

His young sonne lay in cradle sick at home.

[Page]The Wench said, Mother (Her that name did move)

What d' ye alone here in this desert grove?

Th'old man too stands there (though his load were sore)

And pray'd her enter to his Cottage poore.

She now an old wife in a mitre drest,

In these sad words denyes his urg'd request,

Go safe, blest Parent, my pore Daughter's gone:

Ah, sweet condition farre above mine own!

She wip'd her eyes; a pearly drop came from her

Much like a tear: for tears did not become her.

Th' old man and maid, both tender-hearted, make

A part in tears. The down-right Sage then spake,

God keep, God keep thy daughter safe from harm:

Come, pray, arise; reject not our poore farm.

Replies the Dame, Thy argument is strong.

So rising up she follows him along.

As on they walk'd, he this to her exprest,

His Sonne was sick and could by no means rest.

She, as she went into his little mound,

Sleep-poring poppy gathers on the ground.

The-whiles she pluck'd she tasted it ('t is said)

And unawares her long-long fasting stay'd.

The which because she in the Evening did,

Her supper is not till the sunne is hid.

Being entred in, great mourning she beheld:

No hope of life was in the senselesse child.

Th' old wife saluted (called Menaline)

She daigns the boy's mouth to her own to joyn.

His strength and colour instantly renew'd:

Such vigour her celestiall kisse ensu'd.

The whole house joy'd; to wit, the parents dear,

And little maid: these three the whole house were.

Forthwith they set the boord; curds, apples, plumbs,

And golden hony in the hony-combs.

But Ceres fasted, and in milk lukewarm

Gives poppy to the boy, his sleep to charm▪

[Page]Sleeps midnight-Silence did all things enwrap;

Triptolemus she takes into her lap:

Thrice stroak'd him with her hand: three charms she sung,

Not to be utter'd by a mortall tongue:

Then rak'd up in hot embers him doth lay,

That fire might purge his humane drosse away.

Up starts the fool-kind Mother, and stark wild

Cries out, What mean you? and snatch'd up her child.

Said she, Th' art evil in not being so:

By thy fond fear my gifts are frustrate now.

Now he is Mortall: But he first shall till

The earth, whose plenty shall his garners fill.

Thus forth she goes, and with a cloud attended,

Her winged-Dragon-mounted coach ascended.

Exposed Sunion and retir'd Piraeum

And right-hand-ports she search'd, and passes by 'um▪

Then from th' Aegean all the Cyclads ey'd;

Hence pass'd th' Icarian and Ionian wide.

And through all Asia's towns the Hellespont

She raught, and over severall climes doth mount.

For spic'd Arabians she beholds awhile;

Then Ind, Libs, Meroe, and the thirsty soil:

Then pass'd Hesperia, Po, the Rhene, and Rhode,

And Tyber, since a pow'rfull River's God.

O hold! our pen in counting all would tire:

No place on Earth was left unransack'd by her.

Yea, Heaven she search'd: and ask'd the signes that roll

(Expell'd from th' Ocean) next the frozen Pole;

Ye Northern Stars, (ye sure all actions know,

Because ye never dive the seas below:)

Tell what's become of my Persephone.

To her demand thus answers Helice,

The Night's not conscious of her: ask the Sunne,

Who sees what-ever in the Day is done.

Sol asked, answered, Toil no more in vain:

Thy Daughter's marryed to the Tertian reigne.

[Page]Long having mourn'd to Jove she pleads her case;

Deep characters of sorrow in her face:

Had you remembred who my Proserpine

Begat, your care of her had equall'd mine.

The whole world's search affords me nought but this,

To know my wrong. The Pirate hath his prize.

This forced match my child deserved not;

Nor I, to have a Sonne-in-law thus got.

What heavier thrall could Gyges conquest bring

Then now sh' endures the while her Father's King?

Shall he go scot-free? we revengelesse mourn?

Make him repent his crime, and her return.

Jove pacifies: Let Love excuse, saith he;

Nor be asham'd of his affinity.

He is our Equall. Heaven's my throne: One Brother

Reigns in the Ocean; and in Styx, the other.

But if no reason can thy will perswade,

But thou wilt break a match already made;

We'll try this means: Sh' is thine, if meat sh' abstein:

If not, she must th' Infernall Bride remain.

Caduceus sails to Styx on nimble wings,

And quick as thought eye-witness'd tidings brings;

She had her stomach staid with kernels three

Of th' apple pluck'd from the pomegranate-tree.

She mourns as much as if herself had now

Been forc'd away, and scarce could grief out-grow:

And thus she cries, Your heaven to me is hatefull:

Let me go live in Tartary more gratefull.

This had she done too, but that Jove did swear,

In heaven her Daughter should be half the yeare.

With this was Ceres chear'd and comforted,

And put a corn-ear'd garland on her head.

The rested fields gave huge encrease of grain,

Whose crouded treasures barns could scarce contein.

White pleases Ceres; in her Cereals wear

White vestures: black is out of date with her.

[Page] Jove surnam'd Victor April's Ides doth ow:

This day a Temple unto him did vow.

And Liberty, most fitting for our Nation,

This day (unlesse I erre) enjoy'd her station.

Next day let Sea-men in their ports strike sail:

Out of the West come vapouring storms of hail.

And be it so: yet in these stony storms

Did Caesar quell the Mutinensian arms.

Now when the third day next the Ides doth rise,

A Fordy Cow the high Priests sacrifice.

A Cow they Forda and Foecunda name

From Fero: Hence some think that Foetus came.

Now beasts are pregnant; pregnant are all seeds:

Please pregnant Earth a pregnant beast must needs.

Some in Joves Tower are offer'd: Thirty more

Dye in the Wards, whose bloud doth drench the floore.

And when the Priests have drawn the yong calves forth,

And laid the Cow's slic'd entrails on the hearth,

The eldest Nun the Calves to ashes drie

Doth burn, on Pales day to purifie.

In Numa's time the Earth the Plowmans pain

Did not requite; but all his pray'rs prov'd vain.

Sometimes 'twas fear'd wth cold raw Northern drought:

Sometimes 't was dropsi'd by th' excessive South.

Corn in the blade did oft delude the Lord;

And Oaten stalks did nought but husks afford.

Beasts slunk their young with most untimely throws:

The Ew in giving life her own did lose.

A wood devoted to Menalian Pan

There stood, not lately cut by any man:

There he his notions to the soul asleep

By night infus'd. Here Numa kills two sheep:

The first to Pan, the next to Sleep they slay;

And both their fleeces on the ground display.

Twice with spring-water he bedews his brows;

And twice his temples binds with beechen boughs.

[Page]Flesh-meat and Wives that night they must forbear;

Nor any ring upon their fingers wear.

At even to th' God in his set form he prayes,

Then on those new skins down himself he layes.

Anon comes poppy-headed Night, and brings

Calm Sleep and floating Dreams on mortall things.

Pan comes, and trampling on the sheep-skins spread

With horny hoof, thus on the right side said,

The Earth, King Numa, must be reconcil'd

With two kine's lives which one alone must yield.

Fear shakes off sleep. About his thoughts he roll'd

The Mysterie, the meaning to unfold.

Grove-lov'd Aegeria doth the meaning shew:

A Cow with calf is claim'd, saith she, of you.

A Cow with calf is sacrific'd: The yeare

Becomes more fruitfull: Ground and Cattel bear.

This day once Venus did compell to run

Full speed, and spurr'd the horses of the Sunne;

That this style Emperour might Augustus young

Salute next day from his Victorious throng.

But when the fourth morn from the Ides gives light,

The Hyads enter Doris court that night.

The third day next the Hyades are gone

The Race-horse in the lists are plac'd to run.

Here let me tell why Foxes in the rails

Run loose with fire-links at their backs and tails.

Through cold Carseoli, a soil but slow

In olives thrift, but apt for corn to grow,

I took my journey to my native seat

Pelignus small, but fed with waters sweet:

Into an old acquaintance-house I turned

Just as Sol's coach-horse had their day's task journey'd.

He many stories us'd to tell me there:

'Mong which was this, which I must mention here,

Here in this field, sayes he, and shews the field,

A hardy peasant with his houswife dwell'd.

[Page] He in his ground continually did work

With ripping plow, with sickle, spade or fork.

She in the meadows would sometimes make hay,

Or troden eggs beneath her clock hens lay:

Or mushromes bald or mallows would she pluck;

Then makes a fire at her low chimney's stock.

Yet every day she at her wheel did stint her,

To arm her self against the frowns of winter.

A sonne some dozen years of age they had,

That kept the fields, a perk unhappy lad,

Beyond the furthest willows in yon field

He caught a Fox that had much poultry kill'd:

His pris'ner up he wraps in straw and hay;

Sets it on fire: the Fox escapes away,

And fires the fields of corn wheres' ere he came:

The winds advantag'd that pernicious flame.

That's still remembred: for now when they burn:

This beast with stubble as he burn'd the corn,

It is a law 'mongst our Carseoli,

To keep no fox on purpose so to dye.

When Memnon's gold-lock'd mother next comes forth

In crimson coach to view th' uncover'd earth,

Sol, leaving that fair Ram that Helle lost,

Is enterteined by a stouter Host:

Yet doubt I whether't is an Ox or Cow:

None but the former parts thereof do show.

But be it Bull or Cow, I'm sure of this,

At that preferment Juno vexed is.

Next morning comes: Palilia now requires me.

I'll make reply if Pales but inspires me.

Kind Pales, help: Thy pastorall rites I sing:

As I devoutly do discharge each thing.

I oft Calves-ashes and Bean-straws have held,

With burn'd purgations in a hand well fill'd:

Oft o're the bone-fires have I tane three hops,

And dew'd my self with Holy-water drops.

[Page]The Lady mov'd did my petition mind.

Our ship is lanch'd forth, and hath got fair wind.

Sirs, fetch perfume from Vesta's Altars: she

Affords it you, your selves to purifie.

With these three Simples fumigate you must,

With Horse-bloud, Bean-straw, and a slunk Calf's dust.

In th' evening, Shepherds, purge your pastur'd Sheep:

First sprinkle waters, and your stall-floores sweep:

Trim up your sheepfolds with green herbs and boughs,

And with long garlands hang your gates and house:

Raise up blue fumes of brimstone pure and clean,

And smoke your cattel till they bleat again.

Gumme, Sabine weeds, and barren Olives lay

Upon the fire, withall the crackling Bay.

First-fruits of Millet, with the basket, fire:

This countrey-Dame that meat doth much desire.

Then adde the Milk-bowl with her cates, and pray,

To her presenting luke-warm milk, and say,

Great Queen for ay both Sheep and Shepherds shield:

Be all offenses from our stalls expell'd.

If under holy trees I've laid my head;

If flocks on holy ground or graves have fed,

Or enter'd groves divine; if that cur eye

Have made the Goat-foot-God or Nymphs to flie;

If that my hook your groves of boughs bereaves,

To feed my sick sheep with a trusse of leaves:

Forgive the crime: and when it hails, my croud

Admit with me into Pan's caves to shroud.

Forgive, O Nymphs, if we your fountains sweet

Have troubled, or our cattel with their feet.

Dear Queen, thou all the Fountains with their Powers

For us appease, with Gods of grovy Bowers.

Nor Nymphs, nor Cynthia in her cistern play

Let us not see, nor Pan in fields all day.

Let men and beasts be hail and freed from griefs:

Preserve our dogs, that us preserve from thiefs.

[Page] Let's not at even bring tale uneven with morn,

Nor sadly shew the skins of cattel torn.

Keep off base Dearth: let grasse and trees spring fresh,

And springs of water, both to drink and wash.

Let kine give milk, milk cheese, and cheese good coin:

Let wholesome whey through osier-cheese-bowls drain.

Let rams be frolick, and the ews their seed

In time bring forth and many young lambs breed.

All yield full fleeces, work, not harsh, but fine

For maids, and pliant to the fingers twine.

Grant these our pray'rs, and we will every yeare

To thee the Queen of Shepherds make this chear.

Thus pray: And turn'd to th' East, four times this matter

Repeat: then wash thy hands in fresh spring-water.

Then in a beaker, or a milk-dish for it,

Carouse milk mingled with decocted claret.

Then o're the crackling stubble at the last

Your sturdy bodies in a quick leap cast.

The manner's told: th' originall remains:

Whose number troubles and our work deteins.

Fire is a purger; it refines each metall:

Therefore may purge the Shepherd with his cattel.

For since all things have two contrary seeds,

The Fire and Water, whence each compound breeds;

These Simples, Fire and Water, Fathers old

The best purgations for our bodies hold.

Or 'cause these are the very grounds of life;

The exuls losse; the portion of the wife.

I scarce believe 't: Some think there's understood

The fire of Phaethon and Deucalion's floud.

Some say a Shepherd striking of a flint

Perceiv'd some sudden seeds of fire within 't:

The first spark dy'd; the next doth tinder take:

This th' argument of Pales fire they make.

Or from Aeneas, to whose flight the flame

Did give a harmlesse way, this custome came.

[Page]This is the likelier: Rome now rais'd, the King

Commands his Gods to their new seats to bring.

The Shepherds all in their new transmigrations

Set fire upon their old thatch'd habitations:

Then with their flocks they all leap'd through the lay:

Which still is acted on Romes natall day.

Mere chance to Romes first birth me now doth bring:

Quirinus, favour, while thy deeds I sing.

Amulius bloud his tyrants score had paid:

The crue of shepherds now two Lords obey'd.

They both agreed into one town to call

The Boores; but argu'd who should build the wall.

Sayes Romulus, What need this strife or words?

Birds will direct us: let's consult with birds.

Agreed: To grovy Palatine he climbs;

And he the top of Aventine betimes.

Six Remus spies; his Brother, twelve: he yields:

And Romulus at his election builds.

A day is chose to furrow out the wall:

They worship Pales, and to work they fall.

Down to the firm ground do they dig a ditch:

Then cast in corn: From neighbouring lands they fetch

Earth to fill't up; and on the fill'd ditch raise

An altar, and there make a fresh fire blaze.

Thence with a dike he marks the wall: The plow

Is carry'd by a snow-white Ox and Cow.

Jove, prosper our designe, the King thus pray'd;

Thou father Mars and mother Vesta ayd.

And all ye Gods, on whom I ought to call,

With all your favours let me raise this wall.

Be this the Lady of the world for ay,

Both to the rising and the setting day.

Thus pray'd the King. Jove prosp'rously reply'd

From heaven with thunder on the left-hand-side.

All, joy'd at th' omen, their foundation laid:

And in short time a perk new wall is made.

[Page]The King appoints Sr Celer t' oversee

The work: Sr Celer, have a care, saith he,

That no man o're the wall or ditch doth passe;

Who-ever dares it knock him down i'th' place.

This Remus knew not; but the walls so low

Begins to flout: Will these keep out the foe?

Straight leaps he over. Celer knocks him down.

He in his bloud falls headlong with a grone.

This news the King, soon as it touch'd his ears,

Wounds to the soul: He swallows bosome-tears,

And shrines his sorrow for his honour's sake:

Such leaps, cries he, let all our foes here take.

Yet at his exequies he could not choose

But weep: imprison'd piety breaks loose.

He kiss'd the herse whereon his body lies;

Adieu, dear brother, to my wo, he cries.

Then mournfull Acca in her loose attire

With Faustulus anoint him for the fire.

The youth, not yet enstall'd Quirites, mourn:

The wept-o're pile is lastly fir'd to burn.

The City's built. O who would then have dream'd

She e're should trample o're the whole world tam'd!

Reigne ever under our victorious Caesar:

Of this great title still reserve a treasure:

And while thou stand'st above the world extoll'd,

Beneath thy skirts the Earth subjected hold.

I've done with Pales. Now Vinalia

I'll sing. Yet 'twixt the twain there is one day.

All common harlots, Venus now adore:

She furthers your Professions gain the more.

With incense fum'd ask beauty, all mens love,

Alluring gestures, and quaint jests to move.

Give water-Mint and Myrtle to your Queen,

With weaves of Roses ty'd with rush-films green.

Her Chapell next Collina's portall fill,

Which takes its name from th' old Sicilian hill.

[Page] Mark Claudius Arethusian Syracuse

And Eryx mountain both in warre subdues.

Then Venus by the aged Sibylls verse

Was brought to her Sonne's land, which she preferres.

Why then (you ask) call we Vinalia

This Venus-feast? and why is it Joves day?

Prince Turnus and Aeneas for a Maid

Made warres. Young Turnus seeks th' Etruscane aid.

Mezentius was a warriour of great note;

On horse-back furious, but more fierce on foot:

Whom Turnus with his Rutuls to their side

Intreat. The Tuscane Captain thus repli'd,

"These wounds and arms oft dy'd in my own bloud

"Can witnesse, Prowesse me some price hath stood.

"Petitioners, no great reward I ask;

"But half your vintage in the next years cask.

"We'll straight to work. The conquest 's ours: get you

"But wine. The foe shall our agreement rue.

The Rutuls yield. Mezentius is array'd:

So is Aeneas; and to Jove thus pray'd,

Our foes have vow'd their wines to th' Tyrrhene King:

Jove, wine to thee from Latine vines we'll bring.

The better vow prevails. Mezentius slain

Kicks at the ground in his fell souls disdain.

Blout Autumne in grape-soiled weeds array'd

Was come: To Jove the promis'd wine is pay'd.

Hence is this day enstyl'd Vinalia: Jove

Doth challenge it; and much the feast doth love.

When April now hath gained six dayes more,

The Spring hath wasted half her pregnant store.

In vain thou seek'st the Ram which Helle bear:

Show'rs will give signes: The Dog doth now appear.

As from Nomentum I return'd this day

To Rome, a white train meets me in the way,

A Flamen into Rusts old grove did hie,

The entrails of a Dog and Sheep to frie.

[Page]I went along to learn that service: There

Quirinus Priest thus praying I did heare,

"Rough Rust, forbear our Cereal store to spoil,

"And let the smooth blade glister on the soil.

"Permit our grain to ripen full and fair▪

"Nurs'd by the favour of a temperate aire.

"Great is thy power: the corn which thou dost rust

"The sory Farmer doth account as lost.

"Nor winds, nor nipping frosts, nor tempests strong

"Can work such hurt and do the corn such wrong

"As when the Suns hot gleams the dank blade warm:

"Then is thy time, dread Queen, to do the harm.

"O spare! take off from corn thy fingers rough:

"Hurt not our food: Thou canst: be that enough.

"Eat up dire Ir'n, and not our food from us:

"First ruine that, which is so ruinous.

"On Swords and wastfull weapons rather seise:

"No need of them; the world now lives in peace.

"Let countrey-tools, the Spade, the Rake, the Share,

"Now glister bright: foul nought but tools of Warre.

"And when a souldier would his sword unsheath,

"Let tugging at it put him out of breath.

"Ne'r maist thou deal with Ceres; but alway

"Let carefull Farmers to thy absence pray.

He ends. His towel fring'd with tufted locks

On's right side lay, with wine and th' incense-box.

I saw him burn his wine and incense then,

With th' entrails of the Sheep and Dog unclean.

To know the ground of this strange sacrifice

I ask'd the Flamen: who to me replies,

"There is a Dog Icarius call'd, the fire

"Of whose aspect both soil and seed doth tire:

"To that Dog-starre this dog we burn in flame:

"Nor know I any reason but the name.

When thrice Tithonia Priam's Brothers Bride

Is march'd forth, usher'd by her gallant guide,

[Page]With crowns of flow'rs behold the Flow'ry Queen:

Now liberall Mirth luxuriates on the Scene.

Next Calends ends the feast; I'll mention 't then:

A greater task now calls away my pen.

This day doth Vesta in her Cosin's shrine

Conclude: just Senatours did so combine.

One share hath Phoebus; Vesta hath the second;

With whom Liege Caesar in the third is reckon'd.

Let Oaken boughs and lasting Laurell crown

This Temple, which conteins three Gods in one.

The end of the fourth Book.

OVIDS FESTIVALLS; OR, ROMANE CALENDAR. The fifth Book; or, MAY.

[Page]

The Argument.

THe Muses Descants on the name of May.

The Hyads call'd from Hyas made a prey.

Queen Flora's Playes and praises: every part

Of her feast shown: Mars born by Flora's art.

Old Chiron's story. Rites to Spirits pale

From Remus nam'd. Orion, and his tale.

A temple to Bis-ultor Mars. Joves cheat.

The Nuns Rush-pictures into Tiber let.

The Merchants pray'r of cheats to Mercurie.

The Twins. More dayes of much diversitie.

YOu ask me, whence this Month is called May.

I know not well what reason down to lay.

Just as a traveller, when as he views

More paths, stands still, and knows not which to chuse:

So know not I, because I have such store,

What cause to give: even plenty makes me poore.

Relate, ye Nymphs of Hippocrene, that dwell

About the lovely Pegasean well.

The Sisters differ. Then Poly'mnia fair

First speaks: The rest in silence all give ear.

[Page] When Chaos wrought, and these three bodies made,

And that huge masse was into forms convey'd,

Earth's load press'd downward, and attracts the Sea:

Heaven mounted by its native levitie:

Sunne, Moon, and Starres, clogg'd with no grosser weight,

With all their harnesse elevated straight.

But for a time Earth gave no place to Heaven;

Nor Starres, to Sol: All dignities were even.

Ofttimes a God but of the vulgar race

Presum'd to take grand Saturn's royall place.

Each notelesse Deity would by Ocean old

Sit cheek by joul. Oft Tethys was controll'd.

Till awfull Reverence and Honour grave

Seats sutable to every person gave.

Hence Majesty, which all the world doth sway,

Did spring; accounted great on her birth-day.

Amid Heaven's palace was she straight extoll'd,

Array'd in purple and transparent gold.

Pale Fear and modest Shame sate by her side:

And all the Gods with like fram'd looks her ey'd.

Straight Zeal of Honour seiz'd their minds: all savour

Repute and Worth, and aym to purchase favour.

For many years in Heaven remain'd this state;

Till Father Saturn was expell'd by fate.

Those monstrous Giants then the Earth did bear

Whose hands t' invade the court of Jove did dare:

With hundred hands to them she snakes feet gave;

The Gods themselves, cries she, in warres outbrave.

Ʋp to the Welkin with audacious might

They mountains pil'd, and challeng'd Jove to fight.

He from his tow'r discharg'd his thunder straight,

And on th' invaders pates whelm'd that vast weight.

Thus Majesty by Jove his arms protected

The conquest wonne, and since hath been respected.

With Jove she sits, and is his guardian sure:

And sans constraint enstates his reigne secure.

[Page] On earth she came, ador'd by divers Sages,

Quirinus, Numa, in their severall ages.

She Parents honour for them doth defend:

To fair and virtuous youth she is a friend.

The ivory-Bench and Rods enstall'd she graces:

On crowned Steeds she in proud triumph paces.

Poly'mnia ends, and is approv'd in all

By Clio and Thalia lyricall.

Ʋrania follows: All are whist and still;

And her voice onely now the Quire doth fill:

Of old great reverence had the hoary head;

And wrinkled Age was highly honoured.

Youth practic'd warfare with a sprightfull hand,

And march'd in colours for their Gods and land.

Old Age, but weak, nor fit for battels brave,

Did aid their Countrey by their counsels grave.

The Court was then for none but Seniours free;

And Senate comes from Senioritie.

Old men kept Courts: The law was onely ty'd

To that calm age; which thence was dignifi'd.

Old men 'twixt young without distast have gone;

And in the middle, if there were but one.

Who dar'd a rash word near a Seniour's eare

To speak? A Censure he should surely bear.

Quirinus knowing this the Sages chose

His cities new state-matters to dispose.

Hence, to renown those Majors who did sway

Those times, I hold this Month is called May.

And Numitor, whom he could not deny,

Would have this Month giv'n to Majority.

Nor ill successe had this same pledge of grace:

June, nam'd of Juniours, follows next in place.

Then Queen of all Calliopea fair

Began: green ivie crown'd her fluent hair:

Oceanus, whose streams the Earth confine,

To watry Tethys did in wedlock joyn.

[Page] Hence Pleione descended, who did wed

Heaven-propping Atlas, and the Pleiads bred.

The rest in beauty fame reports that May

Excell'd, and Jove enamour'd with her lay.

She on Cyllene's cypresse-crown did bear

The Post of heaven, whose pinions cut the aire.

Arcadia older then the Moon (some hold,)

Huge Maenalus, swift Ladon, him extoll'd.

Evander, banish'd from th' Arcadian shore,

Came into Latium, and his Gods brought o're.

Then whereas Rome the world's chief head now stands,

Were beasts, and trees, and stalls about the lands.

Here sailing; Hold, his learned Mother cry'd:

For in those fields a Kingdome's plat I've spi'd.

His Prophetesse and Mother he obey'd,

And on that unacquainted shore there stay'd.

He taught these nations many services,

Both horn-hoof'd Pans and winged Mercuries.

The girt Luperci worship half-goat Pan

When with their thongs about the streets they ran.

But witty-shirking Mercurie, who fram'd

The Harp, this month from his fair Mother nam'd.

Nor was't his first good deed: for he made even

His Harp-strings number with the Pleiads seven.

She ended too: her Sisters did approve.

My thoughts their reasons all alike do move.

Like thanks, ye Muses, I to you expresse:

Nor can I praise you either more or lesse.

Jove leads my work: This night the Starre we spie

Which was officious to Joves Infancie.

The wet Olenian Goat now rising see,

Whom Heaven rewarded for her nurserie.

Nymph Amalthea, fam'd in Cretane Ide,

Jove her young nursling in the woods did hide.

She had a Goat two little twins that bred,

Of all Dictaean flocks the fairest head;

[Page]With stately horns, which to her back did bend,

And teats that might Joves nurse right well commend.

She suckled Jove: But in a tree she broke

Her horn: the beauty half away this took.

The Nymph took't up, & crown'd with flow'rs she fill'd it

With dainty fruits, and to Joves mouth she held it.

Heavens Common-wealth and Fathers throne when he

Possess'd, and held the sole Supremacie,

He made his nurse a Signe; his nurses horn,

A spring, which since the mistresse name hath born.

May's Calends sees the little Images

And th' altar rais'd to Lares Praestites.

The Altar for the Cures was; but down

'T is beat by age and time that wasteth stone.

Because their vigilance make all things sure,

They stand for us, and keep the walls secure,

And are assistant, and in every need

Are present, we this name to them aread.

A Dog at their feet in the same stone carv'd

Doth stand; of which this reason is observ'd.

Both lov'd of masters: both the house defend:

Both God and Dog the three-leet wayes do tend.

By Dogs and Gods slie thieves away are scar'd:

Those Gods with Dogs do ever watch and ward.

The Statues twain of these twin-Gods I sought:

But their decay consuming Time had wrought.

Our City hath a thousand Lares more,

With their Sires Ghost, which countrey-men adore.

Where wander I? These lines are Augusts task.

Mean while St Bona in our verse should mask.

There is a masse by Nature wrought, no small

Part of a mountain: which the Stone we call.

On this did Remus stand, although in vain,

When to his Brother fowls did give the reigne.

There Fathers on that easie hill did build

A Chapell, which a man detested held.

[Page]Nun Claudia, of the Clausi's familie,

Did vow't; a maid unstain'd with Venerie.

Queen Livia did repair it, who presents

In all her acts her Lords magnificence.

When Phoebus next the Eastern gates unbarres,

And with bright taper damps the languish'd starres,

The cold north-west-wind 'mongst the corn-earssports,

And white flags sally from the Caprean ports.

But when the Evening leads the Night on clear,

The Hyads sparkling bevy all appear.

The Bulls snout shines with seven refulgent flames,

Which Grecia Hyads from their showring names.

Some think they Bacchus nurs'd: Some think them thus,

The seed of Tethys and Oceanus.

As yet grand Atlas had not shoulder'd Heaven,

When Hyas issu'd with his Sisters seven:

Which Aethra Oceans daughter bred and nurs'd:

But Hyas was the fairest and the first.

He in his youth the trembling Roe would chase;

Sometimes the Hare would make a sportfull race:

But whenas years encreas'd his strength he would

With Boars encounter and the Lion bold.

At length he vent'ring for to steal away

A Lion's whelps became a Lion's prey.

Both Mothers, Sisters, Atlas now to sail

With heaven on's neck, their Hyas all bewail.

The Sisters yet surpass'd their parents piety:

Their Hyas gave them names, their love a Deity.

Come, Queen of Flow'rs, renown'd in jocund playes;

I'th' former month I did deferre thy praise.

In April thou beginn'st, and end'st in May:

With thee one comes in, th' other goes away.

Since both their confines do pertein to thee,

Both to thy honour may devoted be.

The Cirk with speeches cry'd on Theaters

Reach to this Month▪ so also shall my verse▪

[Page]Thou know'st; inform me: mens opinions erre:

Thou art thine own names best interpreter.

To my request this answer she bequeath'd,

Whiles from her lips the vernall Roses breath'd;

Once Chloris, now I'm Flora call'd: the sound

Of Latine letters doth the Greek confound:

Chloris, a Nymph of that delicious field

Where those blist men did live in times of eld.

It were not modesty for me to tell

My beauty, which did please a God so well.

I walk'd i'th' Spring: me Zephyr spies: I flie:

He follows me, and swifter proves then I.

His brother Boreas lends him all his aid,

Who once did ravish th' Erichthean maid.

Yet for his rape, by making me his wife,

He made amends. I cannot blame my life.

My Spring is constant; all my season 's good:

My trees with leaves, my ground is clad with food.

I have a garden in my dowry-fields

Cull'd by kind airs and cool'd by courteous rills.

Here with rare sweets my husband deck'd my bowers;

Sweet wife, saith he, be thou the Queen of Flowers.

To tell their colours I have oft intended:

'T was vain; their number all accounts transcended.

Soon as their leaves have left their gemmy drops,

And Sol's beams warm their particolour'd tops,

The How'rs, in broydred gowns array'd, come hither,

And my endowments in light baskets gather.

Then come the Graces, and quaint garlands here

And coronets weave for the Gods to wear.

I first did scatter severall seeds all o're

The Earth; which but one colour had before.

A flow'r of Hyacinthus bloud I made;

Whose leaves expresse his Elegie most sad.

Thou also, Narcisse, through the fields art known:

Ʋnhappy youth, that wert not two for one!

[Page] Young Crocus, Acis, and Adonis see,

Whose dying blouds were dignifi'd by me.

Mars (thou maist know't) was born too by my skill:

Heaven grant that trick from Jove be hidden still.

Queen Juno griev'd that Jove without her aid

Brought forth the motherlesse Athenian Maid,

Comes to old Ocean for to make her mone;

And at our gate quite tired sits her down.

Great Queen, said I, what cause hath thee here brought?

She told me whom, and for what cause, she sought.

To her I us'd some words of comfort there.

Bare words, saith she, will never cure my care.

If Jove could his paternity enlarge

Sans use of wife, and both our parts discharge;

Why may not I as well a mother be

Without his help, and breed with chastitie?

All charms and mixtures both in land and seas

I'll search, and trie, and grope the Stygian lees.

She still talk'd on. My looks my doubt betray'd.

O Nymph, cries she, thy looks do promise aid.

Thrice I resolv'd to speak; and thrice I held:

Great Joves sad anger me with trouble fill'd.

I pray thee help, said she; Thy act most sure

Shall be conceal'd: to this I Styx adjure.

A flower, said I, sent from th' Olenian fields

Will do the deed: but one my garden yields.

The giver bade me touch a barren Cow,

'T will make her breed. I try'd; and it did so.

I pluck'd the flow'r, and touch'd her with it: she

With touch of it conceiv'd immediately.

Now to Propontis left-hand doth she turn,

And Thrace, being big with child, where Mars was born.

Who still remembring of his birth by me,

Thou in our town shalt have a place, said he.

Nor think my power soft garlands onely yields:

It doth extend as well to corn-sown fields.

[Page] If Corn blooms well, the harvest will be rich:

If Vines bloom well, 't will make the branches stretch.

If Olives bloom well, 't is chearly yeare:

Both Plumbs and Apples their successe have here.

If blooms be nip'd, both Beans and Pease decay;

And forrein Nilus Lentils fade away.

Wine also flow'rs, laboriously tunn'd up

In buts; and thick clouds swim about the top.

Hony is mine: the Hony-bees I set

On Thyme, and Lilyes, and the Violet.

We also sport the fragrant flow'rs among,

When strength is sound, blouds fresh, and bodies young.

This her discourse in silence I admire.

Saith she, Speak freely, if you ought require.

Lady, said I, thy Games first pedigree

Relate. I ceas'd: And she replies to me,

The other tools of Luxury unfound,

That man was rich that Cattel kept and ground:

Hence Locuples, and hence Pecunia came.

But now each man anothers wealth did claim.

The custome was to feed the peoples Commons

Without controllment: they long time were no mans.

Sans law the people did their Commons keep:

He was a churl that by himself fed sheep.

This liberty the Publick Aediles made

For th' Commons: Men before no courage had.

Some Judges took the cause in hand, and fin'd

The wrongfull. Honours to their place were joyn'd.

Part of the fine to me was contributed:

And with applause my Games were instituted,

Plac'd on the hills side, then a cliff huge tall;

Now 't is good way, which ye Publicius call.

I thought her Games had every yeare been plaid.

She did deny it, and again thus said,

We joy in honours, both of Feasts, Fires, Fanes:

We Deities are all ambitious trains.

[Page] Men have with sinnes incens'd the Gods ofttimes;

Then flatter'd them with offrings for their crimes.

Oft have I seen Jove, hurling his fire-storm,

At sight of incense hold his threatning arm.

But if contemn'd, the wrong we do require

With heavy vengeance, and exceed in ire.

See Meleager burn'd with absent brand,

'Cause Dian's altar did neglected stand.

The same Pow'rs weapons Niobe afflicted:

A Maid, yet twice reveng'd her hearths neglected.

Hippolytus, when torn with frighted steeds,

How fain would he have honour'd Venus deeds.

'T were long to tell the errours of this kind.

My self once slipp'd out of the Romanes mind;

What should I do? how shew my discontent?

What damages should my disgrace invent?

Sad, I my office cast aside. I varnish'd

No meads: each garden lay unpriz'd, ungarnish'd.

The Lilies dy'd: the Violets dry'd away:

The strings of ambre-Saffron did decay.

Oft cry'd my Zephyr, O do thou not spoil

Thy dow'r! My dow'r to me was then but vile.

The Olive-blooms were nipp'd by tetchy wind:

Corn-blooms the hailstones did to pouder grind.

The Vine was hopefull: but the South did frown,

And forced show'rs did beat the blossomes down.

I would not be, nor is my wrath extreme:

But I then car'd not for protecting them.

The Fathers met: and, should the yeare well flower,

An annuall feast they vow'd unto my Power.

I yielded to their vow: To me my Playes

Two Consuls, Lenas and Posthumius, raise.

I would have ask'd why such licentious jests

And wanton sports were used in her feasts:

But I bethought me; She's no Power austere:

But all her gifts are for delight and chear.

[Page]Brows are embroydered with spruce garlands sew'd,

And tables cover'd with fresh roses strew'd.

The bouzy guest, deck'd with a film-flower crown,

In drunken garb there dances up and down:

And 's head with oyl and flow'rs and wine well-lin'd,

He Catches sings at 's Sweet-hearts doore unkind.

Crown'd temples meddle with no serious matter;

Nor are flow'rs us'd in drinking of fair water.

Till Achelous temper'd was with wine,

Flow'rs in their drinking men did never joyn.

Flow'rs Bacchus loves: Ariadne's crown can tell

That flow'rs and garlands please him passing well.

Scenes mirthfull please her: She does not belong,

Not she (believe me) to the Tragick throng.

But why do Strumpets in these joviall playes

The mymicks act? I easily learn'd the cause.

She's none of those same grave and stately Dames:

To vulgar people she allows her games;

And bids then use Youth's flow'r before 't is worn:

The Rose once wither'd men despise the Thorn.

But why, said I, since Ceres is in white,

Art thou in particolour'd garments dight?

Is't 'cause her harvest hath that onely hue,

And in thy flow'rs all colours are to view?

She becken'd. From her head the flow'rs dropp'd down

As thick as roses on a table strown.

The Lights remain'd: whose cause was yet conceal'd.

To clear my ignorance she the cause reveal'd;

Because my Flowers shine in purple rayes,

Therefore these Tapers well do suit my dayes.

Or 'cause my Flow'rs in colours bright do shine,

As well as Flames, and both attract the eyne.

Or 'cause Nights freedome to my sports agree.

Let this last reason best accounted be.

One thing more briefly I have yet to say,

If I may ask, said I. Said she, You may.

[Page] Why is the dastard Goat and frightfull Hare

For Lions fierce presented in a snare?

Not woods, but gardens are our interest,

Sayes she: Our fields scarce see a savage beast.

All ended thus. She vanish'd presently,

And left an odour of her Deity.

That Naso's name may flourish with his measures,

O strew his fansie with thy flow'ry treasures!

The third night after Chiron in his course

Draws forth his Starres; half-man, and half a horse.

Aemonian Pelion to the South inclines,

Whose sides with Oaks, whose head is clad with Pines.

Here just old Chiron dwelt, as fame doth say:

His caves old trunk remains still to this day.

He did instruct in numbers Lyricall

Those hands which after were great Hector's fall.

Alcides, with the most part of his toils

Now well accomplish'd, thither comes the whiles.

Here met by chance were those two fates of Troy;

The great Tirynthian, and th' Aemonian Boy.

Sage Chiron kindly welcomes him, and there

Asks of his travels; which he doth declare.

Mean while the Club and Lion's skin he view'd:

How well, saith he, do arms and armour suit!

Nor could Achilles hands themselves contein

From feeling of the Lion's bristly train.

The old man poising of the shafts, lets fall

A pois'ned dart, and prick'd his foot withall.

Forth doth he draw it with a monefull crie:

Alcides and Achilles both reply.

Yet he with herbs of those Thessalian hills

Apply'd in vain the raging fester stills.

The poison overcomes his salve; and now

O're all his joynts the venomes taint doth grow.

The Centaurs with the Hydra's bloud impure

Infected will admit nor ease nor cure.

[Page] Achilles drown'd in tears doth him deplore:

The death of Peleus could have claim'd no more.

Oft with his hand his fainting pulse he try'd:

Oft kiss'd he him; and lying by him, cry'd,

O live! nor leave thy pupill, my dear father!

What fruit of manners did the Teacher gather!

The ninth day came. Just Chiron in twice seven

Bright Starres is fixed in the spangled heaven.

The wreathed Harp desires to follow him:

Not yet: the third night is a fitter time

The day before the Nones appear we may

Observe the Scorpion shine in heaven half way.

Hence when thrice Phosphor shews his gilded face,

And fainting Starres have thrice to Sol giv'n place,

The Night-Lemuria an old Rite is pay'd,

And dirges to the silent Ghosts are said.

Th' old yeare was short: Unknown the Februa were;

And double Janus did not guide the yeare.

Yet to the Dead their gifts they did discharge:

The pious Sonne his Fathers tomb did purge.

This was in May from Majors first deduc'd,

In which are some of those old rites still us'd.

About midnight, when Sleep and Silence fill

The drowsie brains, and dogs and birds are still,

The rite-remembring, Ghost-abhorring Sunne

Arises gently, and no shoes puts on;

Then points with his clos'd fingers and his thumb

Put in the midst, lest Ghosts should near him come.

Then in spring-water he his hands doth cleanse;

But first doth roll about his mouth blue beans:

Then o're his shoulders throws them down: Sayes he,

These beans I throw my house and self to free.

Nine times 't is said. The Ghost doth trace his track;

And picks them up, if that he looks not back.

Again he washes; then a bason beats;

And so the Spirits to leave his house intreats.

[Page]Then nine times crying, Kindred-Ghosts, be gone,

He looketh back, and all is purely done.

I am uncertain of th' Originall

Of this day's name: some God I now must call.

Cyllenius, teach me: Thou with powerfull Rod

Oft view'st the palace of the Stygian God.

Invok'd Caducifer applies. Sayes he,

The reason heare. And thus he tells it me:

When Romulus had paid the obsequie

To 's Brother, haplesse in agilitie,

Poore Faustulus, and Acca with torn hairs

Belave his burned bones in willing tears.

At evening home they come with hearts full sad,

And cast themselves on their hard bed unmade.

The gory Ghost of Remus by their bed

Appears to them, and softly whispered,

Lo, I the half of all your labours kind!

Behold my change, from what to what declin'd!

Who, if the Birds had been my friends, within

My peoples walls the Captain might have bin.

Now is your Remus but a dram of air,

A flitting relique of the piles impair.

Ah! where's my Father Mars, (if you said true)

By whose instinct a wild beasts teat we drew?

A Wolf did nurse, a Subject murder'd me:

How much more humane was the beast then he!

Thou cruel Celer, yield thy soul and dye,

And be a bloudy Ghost as well as I.

'T was not my Brothers mind; his pious cares

Did what they could, discharge their due in tears.

Him by your tears intreat, and food you gave,

That he a day would sacer to my grave.

Thus spake he. They him to embrace assay

The slippery vapour flitters quite away.

Sleep from their eyes this vision off doth shake;

In whose relation to the King they make,

[Page]Him Romulus obey'd: and calls that day

Remuria, in the which these rites they pay.

By time the letter that begins the word

Is chang'd; the sharp into a mild transferr'd.

Hence dead mens Ghosts we Lemures do call:

This is the words direct originall.

Our Ancestours barr'd up their Temples in

These balefull dayes, as now is to be seen.

Ill times for widows wedding, or for maid:

Those that have wedded have not long enjoy'd.

And for this cause (if Proverbs thou dost weigh)

The Proverb saies, 'T is ill to wed in May.

But these three feasts succeed not one another,

But on the same dayes are all kept together.

Amid this time who seeks Orion, erres:

The cause of which Signe I will here rehearse.

Jove and his Brother Master of the Sea

A journey took with witty Mercurie.

'T was even, and plowmen off their chains did knock,

And full-fed ews their frisking lambs did suck.

Perchance old Hyreus a Farmer poore

Espies them as he stood before his doore;

Your journey's farre, sayes he, and night at hand:

Our gate for travellers doth open stand.

His words and looks consented: He doth pray

Again. Themselves concealing, they obey.

His house they enter with dull smoke besmear'd.

Upon a brand a spark of fire appear'd.

He, on his knees, the cole doth bigger blow:

Then layes the brands, and breaks small sticks in two:

Sets on two pipkins, one with beans, and one

With herbs. The scum the lids doth over-run.

With palsie-hand, while meat was taken up,

He fills them wine. The Sea-God takes the cup,

And turns it off: The Cup, saies he, now bear

To Jove. He quakes the name of Jove to heare.

[Page]Come to himself, for sacrifice he kill'd

His Ox, the tiller of his little field:

Then broach'd a hogshead of his speciall Sack,

Which in his young dayes he himself did make.

On fenny tufts a hempen cloth he spred,

And sets them down upon no stately bed.

Now braves his boord with dainty cates and liquours,

In earthen dishes, and in beech-tree-beakers.

Sayes Jove, What-e're thou wilt request or can,

Ask and receive. Replies the good old man,

I had a wife in my young dayes, and one

I dearly lov'd: but now she's dead and gone.

To her I promis'd, when by you I swore,

She was my onely wife; I'd wed no more.

My vow I'll keep: But in my mind doth run

A crosse desire, To have no Wife, but Sonne.

All gave a grant, and to the ox-hide came,

And o're it strain'd: To tell the rest were shame.

Then bury'd it, all dropping, in the earth.

At ten months end a little Boy comes forth.

Him from his birth Ʋrion Hyreus styl'd:

Whose names first letter is a little soil'd.

He grew a hunter of a mighty fame,

And Delia's Serjeant and her Guard became.

Words rashly spoken do the Gods displease:

No beast, braves he, but this arm can suppresse.

Earth sends a Scorpion, who doth whet his spite

To rifle Delia of her arrows light.

Orion rescues. Slain; Diana sayes,

Take thy desert, and him to heaven doth raise.

Why does Orion, with his fellows, force

Their lights from heaven? & Night contract her course?

Why does white Day, by her bright Usher led,

More soon then earst extoll her sparkling head?

Did not arms rattle? yes sure; arms did rattle:

Mars comes, and coming sounds the signes of battle.

[Page]The grand Revengers self descends his sport

And Tow'r to see in Augusts ample Court.

Great God; great work: Even thus did it become

God Mars to dwell in his Sonne's city Rome.

Gigantick tropheys best befit this wall:

From hence his squadrons Mars should march and call;

Be any Rebell in the utmost East

Or by departing Sol to be suppress'd.

The God approving that invicted Powers

Do hold his Temple, views the lofty Towers.

He views i' th' Court arms of a sundry fashion,

The whole worlds weapons wonne by his own nation.

Next eyes Aeneas with his load divine,

And all those Nobles of the Julian line:

Then Romulus with arms of Acron tam'd:

With acts and statues of more Worthies fam'd.

He views the walls grac'd with Augustus name;

Which makes it shew a work of greater fame.

That Prince did vow it in his pious warre.

Fit for a Prince such great beginnings are.

Just as the fight began, with heav'd-up hands

He vents these prayers against the Traitours bands;

If for my father Vesta's Priest I make

These warres, and vengeance for both titles take,

Come, Mars, and with their base bloud glut thy sword,

And favour to the juster cause affoord.

My conquest thee shall Ultor style, and raise

Thy temple. Having vow'd, his foes he slayes.

Nor was this name deserved once alone:

He gain'd our Ensignes which the Parthians wonne.

That nation was with broad plains fens'd secure,

With horses, streams, and arrows deadly sure.

The Crassi's slaughter now had flesh'd them well,

When Ensignes, Souldiers, Generalls all fell.

Romes Colours, glory of the warres, were lost:

With Romane Eagles did the Parthian boast.

[Page]That shame had still remain'd, had not our land

Protected been by Caesars valiant hand.

He took away that old disgrace and stain:

Our Flags redeem'd saluted Rome again.

What good, O Parthian, did thy back-shot-flight?

Thy Countrey do thee? or thy race-horse light?

Thou yield'st our Eagles and thy conquer'd Bow:

Nor hast one badge of our dishonour now.

A Temple (as both vow and merit claim'd)

To Mars he rais'd, and him Bis-ultor nam'd.

Ye Peeres, solemnize on the Circus playes:

No Scene doth suit a warlike Powers praise.

Now see the sister-Pleiades whole train,

Just when two nights before the Ides remain.

Then enters Summer, surest Authours write:

The gentle Spring concludes his soft delight.

The night before the Ides the Bull doth rear

His sparkling brows: Of whom the story heare.

Once Jove, well horn'd and turned to a Bull,

Pack'd up the Tyrian Virgin by the gull.

Her right his mane, her gown her left hand held:

Pale fear her cheeks with other beauty fill'd.

The wanton air her coats doth swell, and move

Her golden hairs: Such looks best pleased Jove.

Her pretty feet she from the water saves,

And shuns the tacture of the leaping waves.

The subtile God his back doth often dive,

That to his neck she might the closer cleave.

Come to the shore, himself unhorn'd Jove shew'd,

And of an Ox his shape Divine indu'd.

There swells her womb, while heaven the Bull receives:

And Earth's third part the name from her derives.

The Pharian Heifer some suppose this Signe:

Made Beast of Humane; of a Beast, Divine.

Now from the timber-bridge the Vestall chast

The rushie pictures of old men doth cast.

[Page]Who thinks old men of sixty years to be

Thus drown'd, too much doth tax Antiquitie.

Old fame reports that when Saturnia

This land was call'd th' old Prophet thus did say,

Ye people to the Sickle-God deliver

Two men, thrown down into the Tuscane river.

This gift each yeare to that Leucadian power

Was given, till Hercules pitch'd on this shore.

He strawy Nobles o're the bridge threw down:

From whose example pictures since were thrown.

Some think young men, that so they might engrosse

Their voice, craz'd Seniours o're the bridge did tosse.

Inform me, Tyber, thou art farre beyond

Our city's age, and know'st this custome's ground.

His reedy brows out of his murmuring source

Old Tyber rouz'd, and vents these accents hoarce;

"This place of old a plain unwall'd and wide

"I knew: Few oxen graz'd on either side.

"Old Tyber, known of all the world and fear'd

"Now, in those dayes was scorn'd of every herd.

"Thou know'st Arcadian Evander's name:

"He rowing in my chanel hither came.

"The next Alcides with his Greeks I saw;

"Then call'd, as I remember, Albula.

"Th'Arcadian King him freely here embrac'd:

"And Cacus had his due desert at last.

"Away he travels with his Spanish spoil.

"As for his mates, they would no further toil.

"A great part of them in this land remains,

"And pitch'd their hopes and houses on these plains.

"Yet of their countrey they had oft a sense;

"And divers dying left these testaments;

My body into Tyber throw, that so.

My dust at length may to my countrey go.

"The Heir was much displeas'd at his command,

"And tombs his father in th' Ausonian land.

[Page]"A rush-weav'd image into me is cast

"In stead of him, to float to Greece at last.

His dewy cave of vitall stone, this said,

He shrinks into: at which the River stay'd.

Brave Lad of Atlas, whom of Joviall seed

Fair Maia on th' Arcadian hills did breed;

Thou wing-foot Arbiter between the Gods

Of heaven and hell, in friendship and at ods;

Thou who delight'st to touch the Harp, and sense;

And varnishest the tongue with Eloquence:

Old times thy Chapell near the Circus fram'd

In th' Ides: since when this day to thee is nam'd.

All Tradesmen that their wares now ope, thee crave

With incense fum'd, some gains in sale to save▪

Mercurius Pool is near Capena's Port,

A spring divine: believe experience for 't.

The coat-girt Chapman here his pitcher brings,

And water draws to purifie his things.

He dips a bay-bough: with the dabbled bay

His wares he sprinkles to be sold away.

Then with the bough he sprinkles his own hair,

And with his glozing tongue thus makes his prayer;

Purge thou away my former perjuries,

My cheating words, and broken promises.

When by thy witnesse I untruths did prove,

Or falsely swore by by-abhorring Jove;

What Power soever broker to my lie

I've made, now let them vanish all and die.

Wink thou at all my slie deceits to day:

Let not the Gods take notice what I say.

Afford me gains, and joy, that my desire

Of gain is fed, and that I've gull'd the Buyer.

These prayers make Mercury in heaven to smile,

Remembring his Ortygian cheat yerwhile.

But heare, quaint God, this better prayer of mine:

What time doth Phoebus to the Twins combine?

[Page] Just when the dayes of this month equall'd be

In number to. Alcides toils, saith he.

Relate, said I, the reason of this Signe.

The smooth-tongu'd God replies with voice divine,

Jove's Twins, the Champion and the Horse-courser,

Had stoll'n fair Phoebe and her Sister dear.

Idas and Lynceus, both by contract made

Leucippus sonnes, took arms their wives to aid.

Love causes their demand, and their deniall:

The self-same cause perswades both sides to triall.

Th' Oebalian Twins could eas'ly flie away:

But that was base, by flight to get the day.

There is an open plain, a champion fair

And fit for arms: There stood this faithfull pair.

Swift Castor 's bosome bor'd with Lynceus blade,

He on the ground at unawares was laid.

Revenging Pollux comes, and with his pike

Quite through the throat doth Lynceus deadly strike.

At him flies Idas; Whom Joves flames scarce quell'd:

They say his sword he in his hand still held.

Heavens ope for Pollux enterteinment were:

Sayes he, O Father, my petition heare:

What thou me onely, do thou two enstall:

One moity of thy boon is more then all.

Thus to his Brother he divides his charge:

A welcome couple to a vexed barge.

Who seeks Agonia must to Janus go:

Yet this day hath it in this season too.

This night the Erigonian Dog doth shine:

I've given else-where the reason of this Signe.

Next day is Vulcane's, which is Lustria nam'd:

They lustrate Trumpets by the Lemnian fram'd.

Foure figures read from this, and lo, in sight

The Holy Customes, or the Tarquine's flight.

Lo, Publick Fortune of our potent nation

This day beheld her Temples consecration.

[Page]When spring-rich Amphitrite this light removes,

Behold the Bird which Jove so dearly loves.

The sequent morning doth Bootes hide.

Next day the Hyads vaunt their glittering pride.

The end of the fifth Book.

OVIDS FESTIVALLS; OR, ROMANE CALENDAR. The sixth Book; or, JUNE.

[Page]

The Argument.

THe severall reasons of this Month he gives.

The Janal wand away Night Scrich-owls drives.

Moneta 's Chapell'd by Camillus vow:

So is Bellona. Mind is honour'd too.

The figure of Chast Vesta's house: her rites.

Jove Pistor's Altar. Ino Matrones cites

Ʋnto her feast. St Fortune 's Temple built

By Servius. Tullia 's Hell-surpassing guilt.

Quinquatrian feasts. The grand Physician rais'd.

The feast of Fortune. Philip 's work is prais'd.

FOr this Months name too divers reasons make:

I'll cite them all, that thou thy choice maist take.

I sing a truth; though some elsewise may ween,

And hold no Gods of humane eyes are seen.

There is a God in us: in him we live:

His sacred spirits this heat and vigour give.

I specially may see a heavenly sight,

Or in a Prophet's or this subject's right.

There is a tree-throng'd Grove, reserv'd from all

Shape of a sound, unlesse some water-fall.

[Page]Upon this month I musing hither came,

And much revolv'd th' originall and name:

Lo! Nymphs I saw: Not those that Farmer old

Did meet in feeding his Ascraean fold:

Nor those that shew'd themselves to Priam's Sonne

In spring-fed Ida: Yet of them was one;

Even one of them, her Husbands Sister: Her

I oft had seen i'th' Tower of Jupiter.

Amazed palenesse did my spirit betray:

Forthwith the fear she caus'd she took away.

"O thou that dost the Romane Yeare maintein,

"And sing'st, saith she, grand things on humble strain.

"This priviledge of seeing Gods was thine

"When first thou undertook'st this task divine.

"But lest that thou i'th' vulgar errour wade,

"Know thou that June his name from Juno had.

"Joves Wife and Sister! 't is no modern grace

"To me: I know not which should take the place.

"I was old Saturns eldest child; if birth

"And pedigree you count of any worth.

"My Fathers name once to this place was given:

"This land in his account was next to heaven.

"If wedlock 's priz'd, I am the Thund'rers Bride:

"My Temple stands just by his Temples side.

"Could May, that strumpet, have a Months renown?

"What? and shall any dare deny me one?

"Why do I then that royall title hold,

"The Queen of heaven? and wear a crown of Gold?

"Light makes the months; and I am Lucine styl'd:

"Shall I then be of my Months name beguil'd?

"I should repent that my true love and grace

"I e're vouchsafed to the Trojane race.

"Young Ganimed's preferment and th' award

"Of Paris judgement urg'd my anger hard.

"I should be sory that I e're despis'd

"My Carthage, where my Coach and arms are priz'd;

[Page]"Or that I ever put this land between

"My Samos, Argos, Sparta, or Mycene.

"Besides the Sabines and Faliscanes, who

"Did honour me, to Rome I did subdue.

"But I'm not griev'd: this is my darling land;

"And here my Temple with my Joves doth stand.

"My Sonne Mars said, Dear Mother take this town:

"It is my Sonne's: here shall be thy renown.

"His word's perform'd; My altars here are many;

"And my Months honour is as great as any.

"Nor doth Rome onely this most welcome fame

"On me conferre: the neighbours do the same.

"See but the Calendar of th' Aricinians,

"Or my Laurentians, or of my Lavinians:

"See Tybur; there this month is proved mine:

"And read but o're the rolls of Praenestine:

"This time they all give me: and yet they wanted

"My Sonne's foundation, who this city planted.

Thus Juno ends. I turn'd: and Herc'les Bride

With sorrows symptomes in her face I spi'd.

"Should my dear Mother bid me pack away

"From heaven, saith she, in heaven I would not stay.

"Nor do I now contend for this Month's honour:

"I rather beg it in submissive manner.

"Fain by intreaty would I keep my due:

"Perhaps my cause may favour find with you.

"My Mother hath her Capitol of gold;

"And, as is fit, her Tower with Jove doth hold.

"But all my glory is in this Months name:

"All I regard is but this piece of fame.

"Rome need not grudge, with all her postern race,

"To give Alcides Wife this season's grace.

"More for my Husband's sake might she afford:

"With Spanish oxen he this kingdome stor'd.

"And Cacus, fens'd with flames of fire to strain

"By Vulcane's art, by his stout arm was, slain.

[Page]"But I come nearer: Romulus your King

"Into two parts his men distributing;

"The Youth for arms, for counsel were the Aged:

"The Old to plot the warre, the Young to wage it.

"This by two months he stablish'd: For this reason

"May is the Majors, June the Juniors season.

Thus and in more words did they plead and chide:

Their eager anger did affection hide.

Then comes fair Concord deck'd with laurel-crown

Whose fame and Fabrick is our Kings renown.

Of Romulus and Tatius she relates,

And how to one they did unite two States.

Both Sonne and Father made one common home:

From their conjunction June, saith she, doth come.

I've heard three causes; but excuse me ye:

'T is not for me to arbitrate this plea.

I leave you even. Troy ru'd th' award of Paris:

One cannot make so much as two will marre us.

The first day Carna Mistresse of the Hinge

Is worshipp'd; she that shuts and opens things.

Whence she this office had, time doth obscure

The truth; but yet our Muse shall thee assure.

Th' old grove Helernus near to Tyber lies:

The high-Priest often there doth sacrifice.

This Nymph was bred there; Crane call'd of yore:

A many suiters, but in vain, did wo her.

She kept in woods, and forrest-games did ply,

With nets, with races, and artillery.

She ware no quiver: yet she still was fam'd

For Phoebus sister: nor need he b' asham'd.

Some youthfull Spark that would not be deny'd

Did court her close: To whom she thus reply'd,

These fields too open and immodest be:

Walk to some private cave, I'll follow thee.

He simply walks before: She steals behind

A bush: He no-where could his sweet-heart find.

[Page]Her Janus spies, and deeply falls in love:

His smooth intreaties her would little move.

She, as she us'd, bids him walk to a cave;

And, as she follow'd, him the slip she gave.

Fool! 't is in vain; for Janus sees thy scout:

He sees behind him; and will find thee out.

He sayes the same: and as thou close wert laid,

He clip'd thee close; and, thee enjoying, said,

The power of Hinges lo we give to thee

In lieu of thy deflowr'd virginitie.

This said, a white-thorn-wand he her doth give,

With which from houses she should Scrich-owls drive.

These Owls are ravenous fowls; not those that fed

On Phineus meats, but of those monsters bred:

Great heads; glore eyes; hook-beaks upon their jaws:

Their feathers gray; huge tallons on their claws.

All night they ranging, often seize upon

And spoil young Barns in cradles laid alone.

Some say that infants bowels for their food

They pierce and tear, and bath their beaks in bloud.

Th' are call'd Scrich-owls; because that in the night

Their horrid Scriches mortall hearts affright.

Whether they be true fowls, or else transform'd

From chaunting old wives by their Dirges charm'd;

They came to Proca's chamber, where he lay

But five dayes old, and seiz'd on him their prey;

In whose gor'd cheeks their ravening bills they bathed.

The poore young child for help and succour blathed.

The nurse affrighted runnes, and up doth cull

Her child, and sees his face (O pitifull!)

All torn with Scrich-owls claws: as tawny sear

As leaves long-blasted by a winter-air.

She comes to Crane, and her ail doth tell.

Fear not, sayes she; your nursling shall do well.

Come to the cratch; the parents wept: Forbear

Your toars, quoth she; I'll cure him: there 's no fear.

[Page]Forthwith in order thrice she dash'd the doore

With wilding-bough; then marks the posts thrice more:

Then med'cin'd waters dash'd about, doth hold

A sow-pigs haslet of some two months old:

Then charms; Ye Night-fowls, let this child alone,

And take this little for a little one.

Heart for a heart, and flesh for flesh receive:

This for a nobler life to you we give.

This offer'd thus and slic'd abroad she layes;

And warns them all from looking back that wayes.

Then at the chamber-window with her hand

Takes in her sweet-heart Janus white-thorn-wand.

The child is cur'd; his colour 's fresh and clear:

And never after came those Night-fowls there.

Why is a Barley-bean-cake, you will say,

And lard of Pork now eaten on this day?

This ancient Nymph loves best her ancient fare;

And (plain) for farre-fetch'd dainties doth not care.

Fish in those dayes about did safely play:

On sands the Oyster unrespected lay.

Th' Ionian fowl, nor yet the Pygmee's foe

On Indian hills, th' Italian coasts did know.

The Peacock onely by his gaudy train

Did please the eye. No beast in chase was slain.

Pork was the meat; with Pork their feasts were fill'd:

And Earth did onely Beans and Barley yield.

These mix'd whoever eats upon this day,

He'll be the hailer all the yeare, they say.

A Temple to Moneta Juno now

Is rais'd on Joves hill by Camillus vow.

There Manlius house once stood; who did remove

The Frenchmen's troops from Capitolian Jove.

O Heavens! how well might he have dy'd that hower,

Defender of great Joves majestick Tower!

He liv'd to dye Aspirer to a throne:

Long life did bring him this aspersion.

[Page]This day besides, without Capena gate

They feast to Mars above his walks of state.

This day too, Tempest, was thy Temple hallow'd;

When Corsick waves our fleet had almost swallow'd.

You see these humane monuments: Divine

If thou dost seek; Joves Bird at full doth shine.

Next day the Hyads from the East doth call

On Taurus horns; and dabbling showr's now fall.

Twice more when Phoebus hath begot the Morn,

And twice Aurora 's tears bepearl the corn,

Bellona 's Chapell, who alwayes our state

Did love, in Tuscane warres was consecrate.

'T was Appius work; who, though his eyes were blind,

'Gainst Pyrrhus truce quick-sighted was in mind.

Behind the Circus lies a little Court,

Where stands a Pillar small of great report:

From hence a dart, warres harbinger, they fling,

When arms were levy'd 'gainst a forrein King.

The Circus next part Hercules Protectour

Defends, of which the Sibyll was directour.

'T was given one day before the Nones: and read

The Title, Sylla did approve the deed.

I mus'd to whom the Nones I should referre;

To Sanctus, Fidius, or Semipater:

Said Sanctus, Name thou whom thou wilt, Sr Poet,

All three are mine: the Cures did allow it.

A chapell to this Saint-God in old dayes

The Cures on Quirinus hill did raise.

I have a daughter all my joy life gives:

Heavens grant that she her fathers date survives!

Her I was now to match, and for that reason.

Enquir'd a lucky and unlucky season.

Joves Flamens wife thus much me certifi'd;

The ides of June for Bridegroom and for Bride

Are alwayes lucky: But his first dayes be

Ʋnfortunate to Hymen: for, saith she,

[Page] Till gilded Tyber all the soil and trash

Of Vesta's temple into sea doth wash,

'T is not allow'd to me my nails to pare,

To wear my dresses, or to kemb my hair,

Nor touch my husband, though Joves Priest he be,

And in a knot perpetuall ty'd to me.

Make thou no hast: 't is better marrying then,

When Vesta's fiery globe is purg'd and clean.

The third day next the Nones the Northern Bear

Descends, and nothing at her back doth fear.

Then (I remember) I have often seen

Swift Tybers games in Mars his flowery green.

This is the Fishermens feast-day, who tangle

Fish in their nets, with those who use the angle.

Mind is Divine, and had her Chapell rais'd

When in dread arms the perjur'd Poeni blaz'd.

Rebellious Poeni, that our Consul kill'd,

And all our state with Moorish terrours fill'd.

Fear cancell'd Hope. Our Senate then to Mind

Did make a vow, and she did them befriend.

The day in which these vows discharged were

Is just six dayes before the Ides appear.

Help, Vesta; thee our Muse officious sings:

May we presume so near thy sacred things.

Devout in pray'r, I felt a Pow'r Divine:

The walls refresh'd in blushing beams did shine.

Nought did I see (to balk Poetick lies:)

She is invisible to humane eyes.

But I was taught those things wherein I erred,

When no Instructour to my eyes appeared.

When forty years from Romes foundation past,

Then Vesta in a Temple here was plac'd

By that meek King. The Sabines sure did merit

In breeding up that most religious spirit.

That fabrick which now wears a golden aw

Was then with osiers weav'd and thatch'd with straw.

[Page]That place where stood at first her narrow wall,

Before she came was Numa's stately Hall.

And yet (they say) that form which was of old

Doth still remain: whose reason shall be told.

This Vesta is the Earth: she hath her hearth,

As Earth her heat. Her Globe 's the type of Earth.

Earth, as a weight, in figure like a Ball,

By nothing propp'd, hangs in the midst of all.

No corners in the Orb at all there be;

'T is evenly poiz'd by its rotunditie.

For being directly in the Centre ty'd,

Not bending more or lesse to any side;

Were it not round, it would not balance even

And in the midst, but some parts nearer heaven.

So in her concave by Geometrie

There hangs a Globe, the worlds Epitome:

The Figure 's perfect circular devis'd,

That equi-distant from all sides 't is pois'd.

Like-form'd her Temple is; on no side plain:

The round-arch'd roof keeps off all show'rs of rain.

If you enquire why Nuns with purest hand

Her Altars tend; the reason understand.

Queen Ops, by Saturn, Juno forth did bring,

And Ceres next: but Vesta last did spring.

The two first wedded, and their issues bred:

The last resolv'd to keep her maiden head.

No wonder then if that a Maid desires

Her maidens chast to tend her maiden-fires.

Nor think thou Vesta any thing indeed

But lasting Fire, which doth conceive no seed.

Well ween'd a Maid, who neither takes nor gives

Seeds of conception, but with Virgins lives.

I simply thought a Picture her had feign'd:

Forthwith I learn'd that none to her pertein'd.

[Page]Her Temple onely keeps perpetuall flame:

No shape of Fire nor Vesta can we frame.

As Earth, so Vesta, from Vi-stando named,

Stands of her self. Like name the Greeks have framed.

And Focus doth from Flames and Fotus come;

Which was of old plac'd in the outward room.

Hence sure Vestibulum, where men make prayers,

Was drawn: for there stood Vesta's chief affairs.

Of old they us'd to sit on benches near

Her Altars, thinking that the Gods were there.

And when at old Vacuna 's feasts they meet,

Before her hearth they either stand or sit.

A custome 's come, scarce known from what example,

To send pure messes unto Vesta's temple.

Behold an Asse with barley-loaves is bound,

And rugged quern-stones are with fresh flow'rs crown'd.

Old Farmers onely barley-meal did bake,

Whence Lady Fornax Sacreds they did make.

Beneath the embers they did bake their bread

Upon their hearths, with tiles close-covered.

Thence Bakers, and the Asse that turns the mill,

Observe their hearths and their hearth-Mistresse still.

Sunne-burn'd Sr Priap, may I tell of thee

A merry jest? thy good old knaverie?

The tow'r-crown'd Lady Cybele invites

Th' immortall Gods unto her feasts delights.

Sh' invites the Satyres and each Countrey-Dame:

Silenus thither uninvited came.

It were not fit to tell those feasts divine,

Nor brief. Night 's spent almost in chear and wine.

O're Ida 's vales at randome some do trace;

Some lay them down and rest them on the grasse:

Some sport; some snort; some arm in arm a Round

Do make, and nimbly trip it on the ground.

Upon a green turf Vesta layes her head,

And with sweet sleep her weary members fed.

[Page]But tawny Priap up and down there traces,

And peers on all the Goddesses and Lasses.

There spies he Vesta, yet he knew not well

Who it should be: he vows he could not tell.

In lustfull hope he steals unto her close:

The Lecher's heart pants as he creeps on 's toes.

Old bald Silenus there perchance his asse

Had left hard by a small brooks side at grasse.

And now he was about his villany,

Just when the asse doth bray unseasonably.

She frighted at the noise starts up, and cries:

The Nymphs run to her: but away he flies.

The Lampsacanes to him the Asse do kill:

This tell-tale's guts are fitly broiled still.

But Vesta with bread-bracelets him arrayes,

His Quern stands still, and he keeps Holy-dayes.

Jove Pistor's altar here must I relate

In his high tower, more fam'd for name then state.

The cruell Gauls Romes Capitol beset,

Whose lasting siege had caus'd a famine great.

Jove calls the Gods before his royall throne:

By whose appointment Mars first makes his mone;

And is our sad calamity still hid?

Is this souls wound now to be uttered?

Yet if I must speak out our shamefull wo,

In brief, Rome 's thralled by the Alpine foe.

Jove, this is she whose power should once extend

Beyond all limits, and the World transcend.

Her hopes in progresse were; she had controll'd

Her neighbours: now her walls she cannot hold.

Her purple Fathers, old Triumphers, I

Saw in their brazen courts drop down and die.

I saw Queen Vesta from her temple flee.

What? do they think that any Gods there be?

But should they know that You possesse those Towers

And Fanes girt in by their presumptuous powers,

[Page] Would they not say, No hopes for them remain

In all their Gods: their incense is in vain?

Give them but room enough to pitch the field;

And, if they cannot conquer, let them yield.

But now they poorely die: base dearth them galls,

While stern Barbarians overcrop their walls.

Then Venus and Quirinus in his gown,

And Vesta pleaded stiffly for their Town.

Great Jove replies, Our care in generall.

Is for that place. The Gaul shall pay for all.

Thou onely, Vesta, help thy people poore;

And make the foe believe th' abound in store.

That corn they have let them but grind, and knead

The liquour'd meal, and bake it into bread.

To Joves prescription Vesta gave consent.

'T was midnight now, and all the Captains, spent

With care and travel, to their rest were laid:

Jove chides, and tells them an ambiguous aid;

Arise, sayes he, and throw down to your foe

That help which you are all most loth to do.

They rous'd, and mus'd on this dark mysterie,

What help that most dislik'd them that should be.

At last their corn it seem'd: Which down they threw;

The rattling loaves 'mong shields and helmets flew.

The foe quite out of hopes, their siege remove:

For this an Altar 's rais'd to Pistor Jove.

On Vesta's feast once walking where the street

Now call'd the New the Romane Court doth meet,

I met a matrone walking down the hill

With feet all bare: I wonder'd, and stood still.

She, near to me, perceiv'd my mind, and caus'd

Me to sit down: then spake with voice half-craz'd,

And palsie-head; Here where these buildings stand,

The River-flouds with dikes o'reflow'd the land.

That lake call'd Curtius, which is sure ground now,

And bears dry altars, was a moorish slow.

[Page] Tall canes and sallows grew, where now a Tent

Doth solemn pomp before the Cirk present.

Those suburb-streams oft brought boon Rev'lers vaunting

Their liquid mirth, and joviall catches chaunting.

That God that quaintly turns to any form

Was not yet tit'led from his turned arm.

And here a grove with reeds and rushes was,

And moores, where none but with bare legs could passe.

Those moores were drein'd and to their banks confin'd:

But still this custome to this place is joyn'd.

She ended. Farewell, good old soul, said I:

Maist thou spend all thy old dayes merrily.

Some other things in youth I learn'd long since,

Which must not be pass'd by in negligence.

Dardanian Ilus richly stor'd in all

The Asian wealth, had newly rais'd his wall.

Lo, arm'd Minerva's statue falling down

From heaven was seen, and pitch'd on Ilium-town.

I went and view'd her shrine and temple well,

Poore reliques there: Her self at Rome doth dwell.

They went to Smintheus in his grove obscure,

Who did return this answer true and sure;

Keep this Palladium, and you keep your wall:

Wheres'e're she goes she carries state and all.

King Ilus clos'd her in a Tower. This care

The next to him Laomedon did heir.

King Priam kept her little: 'T was thy will,

Great Queen, since Paris dealt by thee so ill.

Now whether good Aeneas gain'd her than,

Or Diomede, or that slie Ithacan,

Who-ever wonne her, she is now Romes prize,

In Vesta's guard, who all things alwayes eyes.

Oh, in what plight was Rome when Vesta burn'd,

And all her house was almost overturn'd!

Pure fires and vulgar lights confus'd did raise,

And flames prophane with flames divine did blaze.

[Page]Her Nuus and Servants all in scatter'd hair

Wept sorely, robb'd of strength and heart by fear.

Metellus flies among them: Help, cries he;

O help! and quickly! Tears no ayd can be.

Run, quickly, fetch those fatall things away:

Your hands not sighs must do the deed, I say.

O heavens! d'ye stand? Them in a stam he sees,

And in amazement fall'n upon their knees.

Fair water dash'd, with heav'd hands; Gods, O scan

My venture well, though not allow'd a man!

Be it a crime; let vengeance fall on me:

And by my life and bloud let Rome be free.

Thus breaks he in. The Pow'rs preserved by

This dutious act, approv'd their Pontifie.

Now happily in Caesars name this day

Her fires shine pure, and so shall do for ay.

No Nun her sacred Chastity shall stain,

Nor be alive interred in his reigne.

So dyes th' incestuous, clos'd in th' Earth, which she

Hath wrong'd: for one the Earth and Vesta be.

Then Brutus sword embrew'd the sands of Spain,

And gain'd his title from Calecians slain.

But yet sometimes sad haps the glad annoy:

Poore mortalls seldome pure delights enjoy.

His Sonne and Eagles Crassus lost beside

Euphrates banks, and last himself too dy'd.

Why vaunt'st thou, Parthian? Vesta said: thou shall

Return our signes, and rue for Crassus fall.

But when the Asses gaity is gone,

And he in 's corn-task walks about the stone:

That day deceas'd, the Pilote on the poop

At night doth shew the Dolphine's twinkling troop.

Now Lucifer sets ope the Eastern gate,

And Tithone mourns to leave his youthfull mate.

Good wives, to your Matralian feasts; away;

And to the Thebane Queen your white gifts pay.

[Page]A stately Court surnamed from the Neal

Joyns to the woodden bridge and Circus great.

Upon this day (they say) King Servius gave

A Temple sacred to Matuta grave.

What Goddesse she is, why no maids sh' admits

Into her chapell, and bak'd wafers eats,

Brow-ivy'd Bacchus, guide my sail; if she,

Whose rites I sing, be of thy familie.

Fond Semele in Joves embraces boyl'd,

Kind Ino takes and nurses up her child.

Vex'd Juno swell'd, that she, the Strumpet gone,

Should nurse her brat; yet 't was her sisters sonne.

Straight Athamas runs mad, and piece-meal tears

Learchus, who a Lions whelp appears.

Poore Ino buries her Learchus torn,

And payes all duties to his dolefull urn.

She runs with mourning locks about her ears,

And Melicerta from his cradle tears.

There is a narrow neck of land divides

Two seas, and curbs the billows on both sides.

Hither, with Sonne in frantick arms, comes she,

And from a rock rush'd headlong into sea.

Nymph Panope with all her sister-train

Her gently latch'd, and bare her through the main.

Both came to Tyburs wallowing mouth, e're he

Palemon was, or she Leucothoe.

There is a grove 't was Bacchus Priests, ('t is fam'd)

Or Semele or Stimele 't is nam'd:

There Ino learn'd th' Arcadians till the land,

And King Evander did the realm command.

But Juno, coming in an old wives dresse,

With subtile words provokes the Bacchides;

O simple souls! O senselesse folk and blind!

D' ye take this vagrant huzzie for your friend?

She comes to circumvent and pry into you:

Believe 't she 's hir'd some mischief for to do you.

[Page]Scarce had she done; the Thyads all, their hair

About their backs, with howlings fill the air.

On Ino rush they: and would kill her sonne.

The yet-not-'quainted Gods she calls upon:

Help Gods, or Men; a dolefull mother aid.

A noise to Aventine this out-cry made.

Perchance Alcides, with his Spanish beasts

Not farre off, heard, and to the noise doth presse.

At sight of whom those that began the fray

Began the flight, and frightfull ran away.

He knew her well. What, Bacchus Aunt, said he,

What mak'st thou here? art thou like-vex'd with me?

Part tells she: part the presence of her sonne

With-held. She's sham'd for those mad tricks were done.

Swift-pinion'd Fame upon her wings is rais'd,

And Ino's name about the countrey blaz'd.

Anon to kind Carmentis peacefull seat

She came: where first she was refresh'd with meat.

The Holy woman made a fire in hast,

And bak'd a bisket for her quick repast.

Hence in her Matrals bake they biskets dry:

No art pleas'd her like that tight houswifry.

Now shew my fate, said she, O Queen divine:

And adde this favour to the rest of thine.

Forthwith the Queen with heavenly vigour fill'd,

By force of sacred inspiration swell'd.

Scarce could a quick eye know her at first view,

So much more large and more divine she grew.

Good news, cries she: Joy, Ino, joy: thy labour

Is ended all. Our kingdome begs thy favour.

Thou and thy sonne two Sea-Gods now shall make,

And on our streams another name shall take.

Greece thee shall call Leucothoe, in our land

Matuta nam'd. Thy sonne shall Ports command,

By us Portunus, but Palaemon styl'd

In his own tongue. O let us find you mild!

[Page]Truth tries her words: Both laid aside their name,

And travels: both Sea-Deities became.

You ask why she admits no maids. 'T is hate:

Whose reason (by her leave) I will relate.

False Athamas her husband secretly

Did love her maid, and oft adultery

With her committed. And from her he found

His wife had scorch'd the seeds within the ground.

Though she deny'd it, fame divulg'd it true.

For this cause she doth maid-servants eschew.

Yet doth no good-wife for her own child pray:

Her self no happy mother was they say.

Anothers child may better be commended:

She Bacchus better then her own befriended.

She told Rutilius that upon her day

The Marsian foe should him the Consul slay.

Th' event approves her words a truth: The floud

Of Thelon swell'd in purple streams of bloud.

On that same day the next yeare Didius slain

The hostile Tropheys did augment again.

Thine, Fortune, is this day, this place, this Founder:

But who 's that statue wrapt up in a gown there!

'T is Servius sure. But why he's wrapt about,

My self and divers make a severall doubt.

Queen Fortune deeply taken with this King,

(She us'd her eyes it seem'd in this one thing)

Was now asham'd of her adultery,

That she a Goddesse with a Man should lye.

By night to him she through a window came:

From whence an Entry we Fenestra name.

Now she repents, and in a mantle veils

His regall person so belov'd yerwhiles.

Some give this cause: The common-wealth was all

Confus'd in grief for good King Tullus fall.

Their tears were boundlesse: wnich his pictures sight

Did still augment, till they had cover'd it.

[Page]I must more amply this last reason sing:

But we will keep our steeds within the ring.

Young Tullia, marry'd in the base reward

Of wickednesse, thus urg'd her husband hard;

To what end joyn'd we in our kindreds murder?

To live like innocents in this good order?

My Husband and thy Wife might still have liv'd

Were there no further act to be atchiev'd.

My Fathers Crown and head are both thy dower:

If th' art a man, claim that indebted power.

Crimes are for Kings: Cut off my Father; take

His crown: His bloud these hands shall ruddy make.

Thus egg'd by her he seizes privately

The Throne. To arms th' amazed Commons flie.

Now bloud and slaughter rule: Weak age is fain

To yield; and Tarquines violence doth reigne.

Beneath Esquiliae, where his palace stood,

Was Servius slain, and wallow'd in his bloud.

She in a coach t' her Fathers Court doth ride

In publick, puff'd with cruelty and pride.

The coach-man seeing his dead carkasse, holds

The rein with tears: At whom she raves and scolds;

Drive, or I'll pay you for your foolish zeal:

Run o're, I say, his carkasse with the wheel.

This is most true: That street from this hath got

The title wicked: an eternall blot.

Yet she her Fathers monument did dare

To enter. Truths, though wondrous, I declare.

Sage Tullus statue on a throne was fram'd.

He clapp'd his hands before his eyes ('t is fam'd.)

A voice was heard, O hide our eyes, lest we

Our wicked daughters odious face should see.

He 's mantled. Fortune in her Temple spake,

Forbidding them this mantle off to take;

When Servius garment off his head is taken,

That day will shew the shame of him forsaken.

[Page] Forbear, good Wives, to touch his vestiment:

Let nothing but your solemn prayers be sent.

Let him be ever clad in Romane gown,

Who was the sixth King in the Romane town.

This Temple fir'd, the flames would not come near

His seat. Sure Vulcane did his Sonne forbear.

For he from Vulcane issued and from

The fair Ocrisia of Corniculum.

Whom Tanaquil bade poure the wine upon

The gaudy fires, when sacrifice was done.

Amid the hearth a mans yard forth did spring

In shew, or rather 't was a reall thing.

With this Ocrisia coupled: from which deed

King Tullus iss'd of coelestiall seed.

His Father gave a signe he was his sonne,

When on his head a blazing light did run.

This same day Livia did to Concord raise

A stately Temple for her Halcyon-dayes.

Yet, where yerwhile stood that huge Palace, know

All postern times, there Livia 's porch stands now.

One house was like a City, and alone

Contein'd as much as many a walled town.

For too much luxury this was pull'd down,

Not for the Founder 's aiming at the Crown.

The heir Octavius those vast ruines there

And losse of all that cost and charge did bear.

Thus Precepts relish when exemplifi'd;

And Teachers words still by their works are try'd.

Two following dayes are blank. To Jove Invicted

Upon the Ides a chapell was addicted.

Now I the lesse Quinquatrian feasts must sing.

Assist, O fair Minerva, in this thing.

Why do the Waits walk all about the town?

Why do they mask disguis'd? what means the Gown?

Disarmed Pallas thus reply'd to me,

(Would I could sing 't as learnedly as she!)

[Page] Great was the use of Waits in times of old,

And alwayes in great estimation held.

Feasts, Altars, mournfull Funeralls, and Playes

The usefull Waits accompany'd alwayes.

Gain sweeten'd that fair Art: But afterward

Their liberties and gains were all debarr'd.

Yea, th' Aediles they but ten of them in all

Allow'd to play at every Funerall.

They left the city, and in exile went

To Tybur. Tybur then was banishment.

At Feasts, Scenes, Altars, are the Waits requir'd:

Their mournfull Ditties Funeralls desir'd.

At Tybur liv'd a Libertine, in 's Art

A long time free, and one of great desert.

He makes a feast, and there this troup invites.

All come unto his festivall delights.

Night came: their brains and senses swim in wine:

A message with a forged tale comes in;

Quick, quick, I say: dismisse this companie:

Behold your Patrone is at hand, cries he.

Away all staggering hastily do pack:

Their legs unruly large Indentures make.

Away, the Master cry'd: and as they slack'd,

Into a matted wagon all he pack'd.

Time, Wine and Motion sleep provok'd. They thought,

All fox'd, the cart had them to Tybur brought.

Through Esquiline the wagon now doth come,

And stood i' th' morning in the Court of Rome.

The States, to gull them both in shew and number,

Command to mask them in their drunken flumber:

And mingled more among them; and t' augment

The crue, the Minstrels in their long gowns went.

This was contriv'd lest that the rest should see

They were return'd against their own decree.

All pleas'd; th' are licenc'd in the Ides to go

In these new masks, and chaunt their Catches too.

[Page]She ceasing; This I fain would learn, said I,

Why this thy day is called Quinquatrie.

March hath my feasts too of this name, said she:

'Twas my invention rais'd this Companie.

I first the Pipe of bored Box did frame

With certain holes, and plaid upon the same.

Sweet were the notes; But when as I beheld

My face i' th' spring, I spi'd my cheeks all swell'd.

I prize thee not so high, my Pipe, said I:

Farewell. and cast it on a bank thereby.

A Satyre finds it: But, the use unsound,

Admires. At last he blows, and hears a sound.

Now could his warbling fingers play their part,

And make the Nymphs admire his vaunted art.

He challeng'd Phoebus: Phoebus got the day:

Who hung him up, and took his skin away.

Yet I'm th' inventresse of this Pipe: Therefore

This Company, these dayes, do me adore.

The third day after in her twinkling pride

Thyene fair on Taurus brows doth ride.

This day doth Tyber our Etruscane river

St Vesta's sweepings into sea deliver.

May Winds be trusted, Mariners, hoise sails

To Zephyr 's point: you shall have happy gales.

When Phaethon's Father in the waves profound

Doth souse his beams, and both the Poles surround,

(For two there be: This in the South we find,

That in the North: both nam'd from either wind.)

Old Hyreus Sonne his sturdy arms doth rear;

And that same night the Dolphine doth appear:

Whose starres the Volsci and the Equi saw

Yerwhile expell'd the plains of Algida.

For which, brave Conquerour, thou, though first deny'd,

In suburb-Triumph on white steeds didst ride.

A dozen dayes our month hath still in store;

Yet to the dozen thou must adde one more;

[Page] Sol leaves the Twins, and takes up Cancer's Signe;

And Pallas is ador'd on Aventine.

Now Tithone 's Bride the Eastern Court doth view;

Dull Night's dispersed and the meadow-dew:

A Chapell to Summanus they did rear

(Who-e're he be) when Rome did Pyrrhus fear.

Now when the Ocean swallows up this Light,

And Earth is shrouded in the wings of Night,

The grand Physician stellifi'd awakes,

And in his hand brings forth his twisted Snakes.

Vile Phaedra 's lust and Theseus wrong all know:

He rashly unto death his sonne did vow.

The frighted horses run, and, scorning aw,

Their dolefull Lord o're rocks and mountains draw.

Down falls Hippolytus thrown from his wain,

Torn all in pieces with his snarled rain.

Displeas'd Diana much his death lamented:

Said Aesculapius, Be not discontented.

I'll make him sound and hail in every part:

I'll force the Fates to yield to my grand art.

He draws his med'cines from his ivory-case,

Whose pow'r on Glaucus yerst experienc'd was;

When he observed with what virtuous weed

The cunning Snake reviv'd his fellow dead.

This he applies, and wholesome charms he sayes:

Hippolytus his groveling head doth raise.

Diana hides him in the midst of all

Grove Aricine, and him doth Virbius call.

The balefull Sisters much repin'd, and grudged

To have their hands held, and their pow'r abbridged.

Jove, fearing hurt by this presumptuous Art,

Slew Aesculapius with a thunder-dart.

Phoebus, be pleas'd: Thy Sonne a God is made:

Jove for thy sake hath done what he forbade.

I wish not, Caesar, though thy conquests call,

If Signes forbid, to stirre a flag at all.

[Page]Let but Flaminius speak and Thrasymene,

By what strange notes the Gods intents were seen.

Whos'e'r the day of that rash losse enquires;

It is eight dayes before the month expires.

Next day is happier in proud Syphax fall

By Masinissa, and slain Hasdrubal.

Time flies away: incroching Age creeps on:

The houres and dayes in restlesse paces run.

How soon do Happy Fortune's Feasts return!

Now but sev'n dayes the end of June adjourn.

To Tyber's banks, ye Lords, your offrings bring

To this kind Saint there honour'd by a King.

Some go on foot, in nimble cock-boats some;

And take a pride to come well-tippled home.

In crowned barge let joviall youngsters laugh

And feast, and freely in their full bowls quaff.

The Common people and Maid-servants, they

Serve this inconstant Queen; because (they say)

The founder Tullus, who was made a King

From servile Maid, of vulgar stock did spring.

Lo, now in [...]roups scarce sober home they walk:

When some starre-peeper with the Starres doth talk;

Your belt, Sr Orion, now you will not shew it;

Nor yet to morrow, but e'r long we'll view it.

But, were his brains not pickled, he would say

The Summer Solstice is upon that day;

Next day a Chapell houshold-Gods receive,

Near where the Garland-weavers now do live.

The same day is Jove-Stator's feast divine,

Whose house Quirinus rais'd near Palatine.

The Parcae's number and our dayes are ev'n;

A Temple to Quirinus now was giv'n.

To morrow Julius native Calends come:

Ye Muses, to our work now adde the summe!

Relate whose act you to his Temple brought,

Whose hands invicted Juno 's spite outwrought.

[Page] Clio replies, Brave Philip's work you see,

From whence chast Martia draws her pedegree.

Sweet Martia sprung from Ancus so divine,

In whom Nobility and Beauty joyn.

Her Nature, Feature, Mind, and Bloud so high

Make up an admirable harmonie.

Nor blame us here that we her beauty praise.

For this the fame of Goddesses we raise.

Yerst Caesar's Aunt he in his Hymens led:

O Grace, most worthy of that sacred bed!

The learned Nine applaud what Clio sang:

Alcides nodded: and the Harp cry'd twang.

FINIS. Caeterorum desiderium mundum fatigat.

[Page]

Information about this book

Title statement

Ovids festivalls, or, Romane calendar translated into English verse equinumerally, by John Gower ...Fasti. English. 1640

Ovid, 43 B.C.-17 or 18 A.D.

Edition statement

1640

Publication

Publisher

Text Creation Partnership,

Place of publication

Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) :

Date

2008-09 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1).

ID [DLPS]

A08637

ID [STC]

STC 18948.5

ID [STC]

ESTC S1325

ID [EEBO-CITATION]

22122482

ID [OCLC]

ocm 22122482

ID [VID]

25106

Availability

This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal. The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission.

Series

Early English books online.

Notes

(EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A08637)

Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 25106)

Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1475-1640 ; 1732:27)

Source

— Ovids festivalls, or, Romane calendar translated into English verse equinumerally, by John Gower ..., Fasti. English. 1640, Ovid, 43 B.C.-17 or 18 A.D., Gower, John, 17th Century..

Extent

[42], 146 p.

Printed by Roger Daniel, printer to the University of Cambridge,. [Cambridge, England] :: 1640.. (Signatures: [par.]⁶(-[par.]1) A-L⁸ M¹.) (Title within ornamental border.) (Reproduction of original in the Wadham College. Library.)

Creation

Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford.

Editorial practices

EEBO-TCP is a partnership between the Universities of Michigan and Oxford and the publisher ProQuest to create accurately transcribed and encoded texts based on the image sets published by ProQuest via their Early English Books Online (EEBO) database (http://eebo.chadwyck.com). The general aim of EEBO-TCP is to encode one copy (usually the first edition) of every monographic English-language title published between 1473 and 1700 available in EEBO.

EEBO-TCP aimed to produce large quantities of textual data within the usual project restraints of time and funding, and therefore chose to create diplomatic transcriptions (as opposed to critical editions) with light-touch, mainly structural encoding based on the Text Encoding Initiative (http://www.tei-c.org).

The EEBO-TCP project was divided into two phases. The 25,363 texts created during Phase 1 of the project have been released into the public domain as of 1 January 2015. Anyone can now take and use these texts for their own purposes, but we respectfully request that due credit and attribution is given to their original source.

Users should be aware of the process of creating the TCP texts, and therefore of any assumptions that can be made about the data.

Text selection was based on the New Cambridge Bibliography of English Literature (NCBEL). If an author (or for an anonymous work, the title) appears in NCBEL, then their works are eligible for inclusion. Selection was intended to range over a wide variety of subject areas, to reflect the true nature of the print record of the period. In general, first editions of a works in English were prioritized, although there are a number of works in other languages, notably Latin and Welsh, included and sometimes a second or later edition of a work was chosen if there was a compelling reason to do so.

Image sets were sent to external keying companies for transcription and basic encoding. Quality assurance was then carried out by editorial teams in Oxford and Michigan. 5% (or 5 pages, whichever is the greater) of each text was proofread for accuracy and those which did not meet QA standards were returned to the keyers to be redone. After proofreading, the encoding was enhanced and/or corrected and characters marked as illegible were corrected where possible up to a limit of 100 instances per text. Any remaining illegibles were encoded as <gap>s. Understanding these processes should make clear that, while the overall quality of TCP data is very good, some errors will remain and some readable characters will be marked as illegible. Users should bear in mind that in all likelihood such instances will never have been looked at by a TCP editor.

The texts were encoded and linked to page images in accordance with level 4 of the TEI in Libraries guidelines.

Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements).

Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site.