SALMACIS, LYRIAN & SYLVIA, Forsaken LYDIA, THE RAPE of HELEN, A COMMENT thereon, With Severall other Poems and Translations. By EDVVARD SHERBURNE Esquire.
LONDON, Printed by W. Hunt, for Thomas Dring, at the Sign of the George, near Cliffords-Inn in Fleetstreet. 1651.
SALMACIS BY Signeur GIROLAMO PRETI, Out of Italian.
WHere cleer Pactolus glides through Phrygian Lands
Tween Banks of Emeralds, on golden Sands,
And in his Course does Lydia's Confines trace
With humid feet, and with a slippery pace,
The Bed-rid Earth, to ease her self (opprest
With her own weight, and crampt with her long Rest)
Her vaster Limbs first stretches to a Plain,
Then to a Mountain lifts her head again;
A Mountain; such for height, as if 'midst those
Which to scale Heaven by the bold Giants chose
(Pelion, Olympus, Ossa,) plac'd it were,
Would like a Cedar 'mongst low shrubs appear.
So far above the Clouds his head doth rise
That his green Locks no Summer dripping spies
With Rain, his face no Winter does behold
Mask'd with a snowy Muffler 'gainst the cold.
The proud Usurper seems as if he meant,
Scorning his low and baser Element,
[Page 2]To make the Airy Region his own,
And plant for Juno an Imperiall Throne.
Or like some new Briareus he stands
Arm'd with more large-spred Oaks than he with hands,
And menaces the Stars; his Sides and Back,
Woods which ne'r shade, fields which ne'r verdure lack,
With a green Mantle cloath, whose fringed Base
A hundred Brooks with Streams of Silver Lace.
At foot of this tall Rock, a Cave disclos'd
It self; a Cave, shady and dark; suppos'd
The sole design of Nature, as th' Effect,
Where She both Workman plaid, and Architect.
Over whose gaping Mouth, her hand had hewn
Out of the living Rock a Lip of Stone
Cut like a bending Arch: whence for more grace
(As 'twere the native Porter of the Place)
Green Ivy wreath'd in many a subtile knot
Hung dangling: Fore the entry of the Grot
With streams of liquid Pearl, (the humid Son
Of some large Torrent) a small Brook does run,
Which on the Pibbles as it purling plaies,
Does so harmonious a murmur raise,
Tun'd to so just a Pitch, as dares desie
The Birds sweet Noats, and with the Lute may vie.
I'th' midd'st of this vast Cave, (which seems to prop
With it's arch'd back th' whole Mountain) tow'rd the top
Opens a spacious Vent; through which, it's flight,
The damp Air takes, Entrance, the Suns warm light.
The rude Walls Ivy, creeping round about,
With a green Suit of Tapp'stry hangs throughout.
The Goddess which in Heavens third Orb does shine
Did to these shades her amorous thefts confine.
Here her delights secur'd▪ whose Passions prove
Her more the Servant, than the Queen of Love.
[Page 3]Here Mars to war oft taught she in Loves field
With other weapons than with Spear and Shield;
Whil'st 'bout his Sinewy Neck her Arms she wound,
And his rough Limbs in those soft Fetters bound.
Here once three naked Goddesses ('tis said)
With censuring Eyes the Phrygian Swain survayd;
Whose judgement in that memorable strife
'Gain'd him the beautious Hellen for his Wife,
And gave to lovely Venus uncontroll'd
The Prize of Beauty, and the fruit of Gold.
And here at last the winged Son of Jove
And M [...]ija, sported with the Queen of Love;
Who, in these shades (if Fame have Truth reveal'd)
And her soft Bosome, long time lay conceal'd.
Mean while great Jove, wondring at his neglect,
(Who of some Message did return expect)
Thus with himself discours'd 'bout his long stay:
Sure he lies lurking for some hop'd-for Prey,
Or his light Wings, (doubtless h' had else return'd:)
He in the Sea hath wet, or fire hath burn'd.
True Jove; he lurking lay, but in the shade
Of Venus Arms; whil'st on her Lips he preyd.
His Pinions he had sing'd; but with Loves sorch,
Which not so much his Plumes as heart did scorch;
Drench'd too he had, and wet his lighter Wing,
Not in the Seas salt Waves, but Loves sweet spring.
And now seaven times the Sun with quickning Ray
Had lighted in the East the Lamp of day;
As oft the humid Night had wrapt the Skies
In her black Mantle, wrought with Stars like Eyes:
And yet no Day goes by, no Night e'r passes,
But sees these Lovers link'd in close Embraces.
But from those Arms (where long a Pris'ner held)
The loyt'ring God now to return compell'd,
[Page 4]Unwillingly their dear Embrace declined:
Yet left a growing Pledge of Love behind.
Nine times already had the Moon (constrain'd
By Course) her Orb into a Crescent wain'd;
As oft, (her horns spred to a round) had run
With Light that seem'd to emulate the Sun;
VVhen a sweet Boy (so geniall Stars dispos'd)
Fair Cytheraea's pregnant VVomb disclos'd.
In their warm Laps new born the Graces laid him,
And with their softer Arms a Cradle made him.
Beauty first suckled him at her white Breast
And her Idaea in his Looks imprest.
About him did like little Anticks play,
Laughter, and mirth, and smil'd his Cries a [...]ay.
No noise, but light breath'd from his Lips of Roses,
Such as the Sky no Thunder heard discloses,
No [...] like to other Childrens, seem'd his Eyes
Two springs of Tears, but like two Suns to rise:
VVhence all presag'd that they in time should prove
No less the Food than the sweet fire of Love.
His Beauty with his years did still increase;
VVhil'st his fair Mother, longing to impress
The Image of her self in his lov'd face,
Did every day add some Celestiall Grace.
Now grown a Youth, behold him, with the Darts
Of his bright Eyes, subduing Female Hearts:
The living Picture of his Parents; where
Their mixed Beauties seem t'have equall share.
From Father both and Mother Name he took,
From Father both and Mother his sweet Look.
All the seign'd Beauties of the VVorld, seem'd met
In him as in their living Counterfeit.
VVhere Nature (like Apelles) the best Graces
(To add to his,) cull'd from a Thousand Faces.
Upon his Ivory Front you might behold
His curled Tresses flow like VVaves of Gold,
And as enamoured on his Lovely Face,
That with their soft and twining Arms embrace.
Then like loose VVantons 'bout his Neck to twist,
Glad that they might by its warm snow be kist.
View his fair Front, and thoul't say that displays
A clear Horizon deckt with Morning Rayes;
And as we see beneath the dawning Gleams
O'th' Morn, the Sun shoot forth his brighter Beams;
So here might you perceive alike to rise
In's Front the Morn, the Sun in his bright Eyes.
His melting Lips, Speeches Vermilion Gate,
Soft Seat of smiles, blushes so sweet dilate,
As seem at once to ravish the pleas'd sight,
And to a Kiss the longing touch invite;
Through which a fragrant Zephyrus transpires,
That Fans and kindles both Loves flagrant Fires.
Nor can one tell (no grace in either missing)
VVhich best becomes them, speaking, smiling, kissing▪
Look on his tender Cheek, and there thoul't spy
The Rose as in a Throne of Majesty,
'Midd'st a white Guard of Lillies, proudly grow;
Or blushing Pinks set in a Bank of Snow:
His Habit, and his Looks did both express
A kind of sweet becomming carelesness.
VVhom all so much more Beautifull esteem
By how much he less beautifull would seem.
VVhil'st thus he manifests in every Part,
What Art there is in Beauty void of Art.
One Day by Chance 'twixt him and Cupid grew
This aemulous Contest; which of them Two
(Since he in Beauty so surpast the other)
The God of Love should be [...] he, or his Brother?
[Page 6]When Venus Arbitress of the Debate
On a Sublime Tribunal thron'd in State,
(Fixing upon the Lovely youth her Eyes)
Thus spake: My Deer, this Doom 'twixt you denies
All further strife; a Bow Cupid and thou
Shalt bear; he at his side, thou in thy Brow.
The same your Weapons; Love's inflaming Brand
Thou in thy Looks shalt bear, he in his hand:
Both too shall shoot at and wound humane Hearts,
Thou with thine Eyes (sweet Boy) he with his Darts.
This lovely Youth, with divine graces crown'd,
As yet three Lustres scarce had seen go round,
When in his Mind a Resolution grew
Of bidding Phrygia, and the Cave adue.
Desire of knowledge, and the Love of Fame,
For Travell his aspiring thoughts inflame.
How oft he wish'd his Fathers Wings? that so
He might each clime the Sun enlightens know:
And view what e'r the Earths vast Bosome holds,
Or in its watry Arms the Sea infolds.
The Lycian Realms he view'd; and there survay'd
The Hill, within whose dark, and dreadfull shade
The triple-shap'd Chimaera once did dwell
That animated Aetna, living Hell,
Which from three sooty Jaws, us'd to expire
A sulph'ry Deluge, and belch Floods of fire.
To Caria next his Course he bends; where he
Through that well-peopled Land doth wondring see
The numerous Villages like shrubs to rise,
The Cities towre like Cedars to the Skies;
Whose fertile Borders with its winding waves
Tow'rd the cold North the fam'd Meander laves;
Which (like a Traveller on some strange Coast,
Having his first Path, his Directress, lost,
[Page 7]VVith devious steps, now in, now out doth wind,
Flies what he seeks, and meets what he declin'd,
Lost in the Errour of ambiguous waies)
Its self imprisons in a watry Maze.
At length he to that fatall Place arriv'd
VVhere envious Love his sad Revenge contriv'd.
So pleasant and delightful was the Place,
That Heavens great Eye in its Diurnall Race
Yet ne'r beheld another like unto't,
Of all 'twixt Ganges head, and Calpe's foot.
There to a round which a fair Prospect lends,
Its flowry surface a large Plain extends;
A hundred little Brooks its Bosome trace,
And with their streams of Quicksilver enchace;
VVhich with sweet vernall Dews supply'd, still yeeld
Life to the Flowers, and Verdure to the Field;
That may, with odorous Jewels thus aray'd,
A heaven of flowers, or field of stars be said.
And what more Pleasure adds; this pleasant Ground,
Tall Trees, as with a leavy wall surround,
And 'bout it seem like a green work to run
As if to sconce it 'gainst the scorching Sun.
And as sometimes the Airs soft breath we find,
Crisps the smooth Sea; so here a gentle wind,
(VVhose softer wing the Flowers does lightly brush)
Curles into trembling waves the fields green Plush.
I'th' midd'st of this fair Plain, the tumid Earth,
(As if impregnate with a fruitfull Birth)
Swels gently up into an easie Hill:
VVhere crown'd with sweets the spring sits smiling still.
And, as from thence she sheds her balmy showres,
The ground with grasse enamels, that with flowers.
Whose pregnant VVomb a Chrystall issue teems;
VVhich as it glides along with purling streams,
[Page 8](That settle in a verdant Vale;) does make
Of a small Rivolet, an ample Lake;
In which no Weeds their muddy dwelling have
To stain the native cleerness of the Wave.
But as the Sun pure Christal by its light
Transpierces; so the penetrating sight
May through the Water here, the bottom spy,
Checkerd with Pibbles of a various dye:
And see how the Mute People of the Floud.
With Ebon Backs, and Silver Bellies scudd.
The Flowers which on its fertile Borders grow,
As if in Love with their own Beauties shew:
Bending their fragrant Tops, and slender Stems
Narcissus-like, to gaze on the clear Streams.
Where limb'd in Water Colours to the Life
They see themselves; and raise a pleasing strife
In the deluded Sense at the first View
To judge which Flowers are Counterfeit, which true.
On the left hand of this transparent Floud,
Fringing the Plaines green Verge, there stands a Wood
Where Lovers Myrtles, and the Poets Bays,
Their spreading Tops to Native Arbors raise:
From whole tall Crowns like a black Vaile the shade
Falling, the Lakes cleer Bosome does invade.
So thick the Trees are they exclude Heavens sight,
And make a leavy Skreen 'gainst the Suns Light.
Whose close-weav'd Branches a new Heaven present
And to the Sight form a green Firmament:
In which like fixed Stars one might espie
Gold-colour'd Apples glitter to the Eye.
Which though no Motion Circular they run,
Want not yet that of Trepidation.
No vulgar birds there make their mean Abodes,
But winged Heroes, Musicks Demy Gods,
[Page 9]Whose Plumes like Gems, with various Colours shine,
Their Beaks of Orient Hew, their Notes Divine:
Whilest this sweet Place seems a retired Cell,
Where Love and Flora with the Muses dwell:
VVithin these dark, yet pleasant Coverts bred,
Close by the Lake, a Nymph inhabited:
A Nymph; her Breast more snowy, Looks more fair,
Her Eyes more Diamonds, and more Gold her Hair,
Than ever Nymph could boast that hath been seen
To haunt the VVoods, or press the flowry Green.
The Chace she lov'd not, nor with Hound or Spear
VVould charge the Tusked Bore, or savage Bear.
Nor at a Mark or Quarry Bow would bend:
Nor in a Race with other Nymphs contend.
To her the Naiades would often say,
Fair Salmacis, fair Cynthia's Laws obey:
Her sports pursue; and in thy hand a Spear,
Or at thy side a painted Quiver beat.
But she who other Pleasures had in Chace,
As the proud Mistris of so proud a Place,
Disdains to set a Foot beyond the Bounds
Of those lov'd shades, or tread on meaner grounds.
There with its liquid streams the neighbouring Lake
A Luke-warm Bath for her fair Limbs did make.
The Neighbouring Lake; which oft it self discovers,
Swell'd by the Tears of her forsaken Lovers.
In whose unflattering Mirrour, every Morn,
She Counsell takes how best her self t'adorn.
There she sometimes her looser Curles unwinds,
Now up again in Golden Fillets binds,
Which makes (which way soever them she wears)
For amorous hearts a thousand catching Snares.
A Robe, like that of Day, now wears she, white,
Now one of Azure, starr'd like that of Night.
[Page 10]Now curious Sandals on her feet doth slip,
In Gems, and Gold lesse rich, than Workmanship.
Now in a carelesse Dress she goes; her Hair
Spred 'bout her shoulders, and her Ankles bare.
And gathering Flowers, not all alike doth pick,
But such alone doth in her Bosome stick,
Whose leaves, or Milk, or Scarlet, does invest,
To suit in Colour with her Lip and Brest.
And if a Flower she pull, strait from its Root
Another rises up to kisse her Foot;
Thus whether more she take or give none knows,
Whilst her Hand gathers what her Foot bestows.
By chance she then was gathering Flowers, when she
The Son of Venus spi'd, and Mercury:
On whose bright Looks her wanton Eyes she bent,
With which her longing Thoughts mov'd with Consent,
VVhil'st both her Sight, and Thoughts by seeing bred,
VVith pleasure on so sweet an Object fed.
But she sucks in Loves poyson with desire,
VVhich through her Eyes glides like a stream of fire
Into her Brest; where, with Aetnaean VVaves
Firing her Heart, the scalding Torrent raves.
And now she forward goes like a bold Lover,
Her flames to him that caus'd them, to discover.
But coming neer, she saw in's eyes there plaid
A wantonness with Modesty allayd:
VVhich though the Gazers Heart it set on Fire,
Quench'd yet the heat of a too bold Desire:
VVhence though Love spurr'd her on, fear held her back,
And though her heart did fly, her pace did slack.
Yet she observ'd to lighten in his Look
I know not what Majestick Grace, which strook
Her Eye not with more Terrour than Delight,
And lesse did dazle than it did invite.
[Page 11]VVhence fir'd with hope, yet freezing with despair,
She nearer fearfully approach'd; and there
Sent him by the light waftage of the VVind,
A sigh, an Ah Mee, Nuncios of her Mind.
And now her Passion gaining vent, affords
Her Tongue the liberty and use of words.
But lame, and broken; yet that serve t'imply,
'Twas this she meant, Be kind, or else I dye.
Sweet Stranger! if a Soul lodge in thy Brest
Fair as thy outside, hear a Nymphs Request:
That begs thou'lt take thy Inn up in this shade.
(And Gods their dwellings in the woods have made.)
Here on this Bank may'st thou repose thy Head,
Or on my Bosome make thy softer Bed:
The Air here still is sweet, still cool; if by
My sighs inflam'd it be not, or thy Eye.
That Eye which quick as lightning Flames does dart;
And sooner then I saw it, scorch'd my Heart.
O more than happy wert thou, Salmacis!
If he (but dream not of so great a Bliss)
Should prove so kind to lay thee by his side,
Not as his Mistris only, but his Bride.
But if that Joy another do possess,
O let me, as her Rivall ne'r the less
(Since here is none that may the Theft reveal)
From thy sweet Lips a kiss in private steal.
But should some Goddess nourish in thy Brest
A nobler fire; deny not a request
To one that dyes; if more I cannot move,
A kiss for pitty grant, if not for Love.
Or if too much that seem; pray let me have
What Sisters yet may from their Brothers crave.
Here ceast to speak; and with that forward prest
To have joynd Lip to Lip, and Brest to Brest.
[Page 12]But the shy youth coyly repulst her still,
As cold in Love, as deaf unto her will,
Dying with Blushes of a deeper stain,
The native Crimson of his Cheeks, in Grain.
(For a bold Suter, of a cold denier
When he the heart cannot, the face will fire)
At last with a coy look, thus mov'd, he spake.
"Fair Nymph be gon, or I the place forsake.
"You but deceive your self to think my Mind
"Will to such wanton Follies be enclin'd,
At which (with his desires glad to comply,
Yet loath to lose the pleasure of her Eye)
She sadly creeps behind a bushy Skreen,
There closely skulks to see, and not be seen.
And now the Planet worship'd in the East,
Rid on the Back of the Nemaean Beast;
And from the inflam'd Meridian that bends
Like to a Bow, his Beams like Arrows sends.
When this fair Traveller, with heat opprest,
And the days Toyls, here laid him down to rest
Where the soft Grass, and the thick Trees, displaid
A flowry Couch, and a cool Arbour made.
About him round the grassy spires (in hope
To gain a kisse) their verdant heads perk'd up.
The Lilly, the fields Candidate, there stands
A Suter for the favour of his hands:
And here the blush-dy'd Amaranthus seeks,
And finds it selfe outrivald in his Cheeks:
Whil'st the enamoured Trees t'embrace him, bend
Their shady Crowns, and leavy Arms extend.
Mean time from his fair Front he rains a showre
Of shining Pearl-drops, whilst his bright Eyes powre
On the Nymphs Heart (that melts through hot desire
T' enjoy what she beholds) a Flood of Fire.
[Page 13]This Place at length he leaves, rous'd by the Call
Of the neer waters sweetly murmuring fall.
Where, on the Bank his Sandals off he slips,
And in the Christal streams his Ankles dips.
Whil'st the cleer Lake, as his pure feet he laves,
Feels Love's warm Fires mix with its colder VVaves.
And now, not his fair feet content alone
To kisse, desires, (an amorous VVanton grown)
(That she might nearer to her wish aspire)
Her Bottom deeper, or her VVaters higher.
VVhich (to their power) to rise when moved seem,
As if they long'd to bath each curious Limb.
The Youth with pleasure on the Floud doth gaze,
And in that watery glasle his Face survaies,
Admiring, with a Look stedfastly set,
His reall Beauty in his Counterfeit.
And sure he with himself in Love had fell,
Had he not heard of fond Narcissus tell,
VVho from cold streams attracting fatall fire,
Did, to enjoy what he possest, expire.
Then stooping, he with hands together clos'd,
Hollowing their joyned Palmes, a cup compos'd
Of living Alablaster; which when fill'd
VVith the sweet Liquor the cleer Spring distill'd,
He gently lifts it to his head, then sips,
Both bath and Beverage to his Looks and Lips.
Meantime with ravish'd thoughts the Nymph doth view
The sportive Lad, and whil'st he drinks, drinks too,
But in a different Manner: from the Lake
He his, her draught, she from his Eyes doth take.
His slacks his Thirst, hers more inflames desire,
He sucks in VVater, but she drinks in Fire.
And now, invited by the heat, and took
VVith the alluring Temper of the Brook,
[Page 14]Himself disroabing, the rich spoyl he throws
Away, and his pure Limbs all naked shows.
And like a new Sun with a darkening Cloud
Invested, casting off the envious shrowd,
He round about his beautious Light displaies,
And makes the Earth a Heaven with his bright Raies.
The Nymph at this freezes at once and burns,
And fire with Love and Ice with wonder turns.
At length cries out; Ah me! what see I here?
What Deity leaving his heavenly Sphere
Is come to sport him in these shades? sure by
His wounding Look, and his inflaming Eye
It should be Love; but no light Wings appear
On his fair shoulders: strange he none should wear!
No; those he lent my heart; which from my Brest
Its flight hath took, and now in his doth rest.
Ah me thou living Aetna! cloath'd in snow,
Yet breathing flames, how lovely dost thou shew?
Cruell, yet cunning Archer! that my Heart
Thou sure might'st hit, t'allure me with the Dart.
But now from the green Bank on which he stood,
Fetching his Rise, he leaps into the Floud.
Whose fall, (as him the breaking Waters take)
With a white foame all silvers o'r the Lake.
Where, as he swims, and his fair Arms now bends,
Now their contracted Nerves again extends,
He the Nymphs Heart (that peeps behind an Oake)
Wounds from that I vory Bow at every stroak.
Into another Form he then converts
The Motion of his Arms, and like to Darts,
Now this, now that, through the cleer Waves does shoot,
His Hand in Motion answer'd by his Foot.
For as he this Contracts, he that extends,
And when this forward, that he backward sends.
[Page 15]Whilst through the streams his purer Limbs, like snow
Or Lillies through transparent Chrystall show.
His flowing Hair, floating like that rich Fleece
Which the first Ship from Colchos brought to Greece.
The Nymph at this stands as of sense quite void,
Or as no Sence but Seeing she enjoy'd.
At last from her full Brest (of its close fire
The sparks) these broken Accents did expire.
"O why (as Arethusa, or the Joy
"Of Galatea) cannot I (sweet Boy)
"Melt to a floud for thee? then (my fair Sun!)
"Thou might'st (to bath thee) to my Bosome run.
More would sh' have said: but her full Passion stopt
Her Door of Speech, and her Eyes Floodgates op't.
Struck with Despair so dead, she scarce appears
To breath, or live, but by her sighs and tears;
Yet though her silent Tongue no Words impart,
Her speaking Thoughts discours'd thus with her heart.
"Fond Salmacis! why slag thy hopes? thy Mind.
"What fears deject? on; nor be e'r declin'd;
"But boldly thy fair Enemy assail.
"See! thy desired Prey's within the Pale:
"And Love (perhaps in pitty of thy Pain,)
"Offers what was deny'd thee by disdain.
"Be resolute; and him whose conquering Eyes
"Made thee his Captive late, now make thy Prize.
"Fear not; for pardon justly hope he may
"Who plunders him that does deny to pay.
Thus she, rekindling her half-quench'd desires,
Her Cheeks with Blushes, heart with boldness fires,
Then forward moves a little; and anon
Full speed, unto the Lake does madly run.
But in the mid'st of her Careere, repents,
And stops; suspended 'twixt two cross intents
[Page 16]Like to a wavering Ballance; on, afraid,
Back, loth to go, and yet to either sway'd.
Now she advances; then again retreats:
Her fears now conquers, then her hopes defeats.
Struck with Loves powerfull Thyrsus, at the last
(True Maenad-like) her lighter Robes off cast,
She hurries to the Lake, then in she skips;
And in her wanton Arms th' unwilling clips.
He, who Loves Fires ne'r felt in his cold Brest,
With fear at such a strange surprize possess'd,
For help began to cry; when she at this,
Ah, peace, saies; and his Mouth stop'd with a kiss.
Yet strugg'ling he her Wishes did deny,
And from her shunn'd Embraces strove to fly.
But whil'st he labours to get loose, t'his Brest
She faster cleaves; and his Lips harder prest.
So when Joves Bird a Snake hath truss'd, his Wings
The more that plies, the more that 'bout 'em clings,
And leaves it doubtfull to the Gazers view,
To tell which more is Pris'ner of the two.
Fearfull to lose yet her new-gotten prize,
The Nymph to heaven (sighing) erects her Eyes.
"And shall my Love (saies she) triumph in vain,
"Nor other Trophy than a bare kiss gain?
"O Jove! if what Fame sings of thee be true,
"If e'r thou did'st a Bulls fierce shape indue,
"And on thy Back from the Phaenician shore,
"Through Seas thy Amorous Theft in Triumph bore,
"Assist my Vows; and grant that I may prove
"As happy in this Conquest of my Love:
"No force let our Embraces e'r disjoyn;
"Brest unto Brest unite; our souls entwine;
"Tye heart to heart and let the knitting charmes
"Sweet kisses be; the Fetters, our soft Arms.
[Page 17]"Or if thou hast decreed that we must part
"Let that Divorce divide life from my Heart.
Jove heard her Prayers; and suddenly as strange,
Made of them both a mutuall Interchange;
And by an undiscern'd conjunction,
Two late divided Bodies, knit in One:
Her Body straight a Manly Vigor felt,
And his did to a Female softness melt.
Yet thus united, they with difference
Retain'd their proper Reason, Speech, and Sence▪
He liv'd and she appart; yet each in either;
Both one might well be said, yet that One, neither.
This Story by a Rivers side (as they
Sate and discours'd the tedious hours away)
Amintas to the coy Iole told:
Then adds; O thou more fair, in Love more cold
Than he, Heaven yet may make thee mine in spite,
That can such Differents, Ice and fire, unite.
This with a Sigh the Shepheard spake; whilst she
With a coy smile mock'd his simplicity.
But now the setting Sun poasting away,
Put both an End to their Discourse and Day.
FINIS.
The Metamorphosis of LYRIAN and SYLVIA, by St Amant. Out of French.
UNder that pleasant Clime, where Nature plac'd
Those Islands, with the name of Happy grac'd,
There liv'd a young, and gentle Shepheard late,
And had he never lov'd, too fortunate;
His Name was Lyrian, she whose looks enthral'd
His amorous heart, was the fair Sylvia call'd.
The Natives there, 'mongst whom still lives his Name,
(Nor shall the Waste of time impair it's Fame)
Report, he bare for sweetness of his Song,
The Prize from all Apollo's learned Throng.
Yet nor his Voice, nor Worth that did exceed,
And ev'n in Envy Admiration breed,
Could e't move her that o'r his heart did raign,
To pleasing Joys to turn his amorous pain.
The Cheerfull fields, and Solitary Groves,
(Once loyall Secretaries to his Loves)
Are still the Witnesses, and still shall be,
Of his chaste thoughts, and firm fidelity.
For they alone were conscious of his Grief,
They only gave his Wonded Soul Relief,
[Page 20]When with the Weight of his sad Woes opprest,
They pittying, heard him ease in Plaints, his Brest.
Ye Gods! how oft resolv'd he, yet declin'd,
(Although he felt his heart with flames calcin'd)
Before those Eyes h' ador'd so, to display
His Griefes! Such Modesty his Soul did sway.
And though h' had learn'd, and knew to suffer much,
Yet were his Manners and Discretion such,
Silence should first in death have quench'd his flame,
E'r he'ld have rudely voic'd it unto fame.
Nor had it yet to any (had not Stone
And stocks discover'd it) been ever known.
Which, (for on them he us'd his Plaints t' incise)
By chance presented it to Sylvia's Eyes.
This seen, in her does Scorn and Anger move;
O heavens! is 't possible that such a Love
She should despise; and him who had profest
Himself her Captive, as her Foe detest?
Or that Love's Magick Characters his hand
Had grav'd, should in her Eye for Cyphers stand?
Or she should read them yet with so much spight,
Ne'r more to see them, 'less to raze them quite?
Ah 'tis too true! nor's that sufficient,
Unless her Tongue to her hard heart consent,
And 'gainst her faithfull Love, with cruell Breath
Pronounce the rigid sentence of his Death.
What said he not his Passion to excuse?
What flourishes us'd not his willing Muse,
To prove, his Love (of which the noble ground
Was her Perfections) could no Crime be found!
If neither Reasons self, nor Justice, ought
(Those for which Heaven is lov'd) as Crimes be thought.
That the Worlds Soveraign Planet which the Earth
And Mortals Fates does govern from their Birth,
[Page 21]By firm Decrees inrolled in the Skies
Had destin'd him a Servant to her Eyes.
And could his Will be lead another way,
Yet being forc'd he could not disobey.
So that his Soul in this her Captiv'd state
Did only yeeld to her impulsive Fate;
Not that (said he) he murmur'd at his Chains,
But pleas'd, sat down and blest his rigorous Pains;
Not but his Yoak so willingly he bare
That Liberty a greater Bondage were;
Not but in spight of his malicious fate,
(In crossing all his Joys so obstinate)
He should unforc'd, ev'n to the Grave affect
That Beauty which his Love did so neglect.
Yet these his Reasons, so well urg'd, so fair,
With her that will hear none, no Reasons are.
They more incense her: yet for fear she might
Be softned, she betook her self to flight.
Such were the winning Graces of his Tongue,
Proving his Love did not her Beauty wrong.
How oft since that, by all fair means he tri'd
(Whil'st he the Gods with Sacrifices ply'd)
To bring the humorous Nymph unto his Bent,
And make her too obdurate Heart relent!
His Passions, Sighs, and Tears were ready still,
As the officious Agents of his Will,
To work her to a sense of his hard State;
But 'lass! his hopes grew still more desperate.
Nay ev'n his voice, of so divine a strain,
So moving! mov'd in her nought but disdain.
Six years he liv'd perplex'd in this distress,
Without the least Apparence of success;
When he by chance (as she a Stag pursu'd)
Encounter'd her: who e'r the Queen hath view'd
[Page 22]Of Wood-Nymphs, (Cynthia) a hunting goe
After the Bore, arm'd with her shafts and Bow,
May then imagine the diviner Grace,
The Looks, the Habit, Stature, and the Pace
Of beautious Sylvia, as she tripping came
Into the VVoods, pursuing of her Game.
Soon as poor Lyrian, half dead with Love,
Had spy'd her in that solitary Grove
For whom his wounded heart so long had bled,
He with these words pursues her as she fled.
Art thou resolv'd then (Sylvia) 'gainst my Cries
Thine Ears to close, and 'gainst my Verse thine Eyes?
That Verse which Fame unto thy Life does give▪
And must I dye, 'cause I have made thee live
Eternally? Seven years expired be
Since I've been tortur'd by thy Cruelty;
And dost thou think that little strength supplies
My heart, for everlasting Torments will suffice?
Shall I for ever only see thee stray
'Mongst these wild VVoods, more senseless yet than they?
Alas! how weak I'm grown with Grief! I feel
My feeble Legs beneath their Burden reel;
O stay! I faint, nor longer can pursue,
Stay, and since Sense thou lack'st, want Motion too.
Stay, if for nothing else, to see me dye.
At least vouchsafe stern Nymph to tell me why
Thou cam'st into this Dark and Gloomy Place?
VVhere Heaven with all its Eyes can never trace
Or find thee out. VVas't thy Intent, the Light
Of thy fair Stars thus to obscure in Night?
Or seek'st thou these cool shades, the Ice and Snow▪
That's 'bout thy Heart to keep unmelted so?
In vain Coy Nymph thou Light and Heat dost shun,
VVho e'r knew cold or shade attend the Sun?
[Page 23]Ah Cruell Nymph! the Rage dost thou not fear
Of those wild Beasts that in these VVoods appear?
No, no, thou art secure; and mayst out-vy
Both them and all the VVorld for Cruelty.
Oh thou that gloriest in a heart of stone!
VVilt thou not stay? yet seest (as if my Moan
They pittied) each rough Bramble 'bout thy foot
Does cling, and seems t'arrest thee at my Sute?
Ye Gods! what VVonders do you here disclose?
The Bramble hath more sweetness than the Rose.
But whether fly these idle VVords? in vain
Poore, miserable VVretch, thou dost complain,
After so many Ills, (of which I bear
The sadder Marks yet in my heart;) Now hear
Ye Gods at last! and by a welcome Death
A period put unto my wretched Breath.
Ah me! I faint; my spirits quite decay;
And yet I cannot move her heart to stay.
Ye hellish Deeps! black Gulphs where Horror lies,
Open, and place your selves before her Eyes.
Had I Hippomenes bright Fruit, which stay'd
The swister speed of the Schenaeian Maid,
They would not profit me; the VVorlds round Ball
Could not my cruell Fugitive Recall.
She is all Rock, and I who am all fire,
Pursue her Night and Day with vain desire.
O Nature! is it not a Prodigie
To find a Rock than fire more light to be?
But I mistake: for if a Rock she were
Shee'd answer me again as these do here.
Thus tyr'd with running, and o'rcome with VVoe,
To see his Mistris should out-strip him so,
Poor Lyrian yeelds himself as sorrows Prize,
His Constancy and amorous Fervor dies,
[Page 24]Bloudy dispair entring his captiv'd Soul,
Does like a Tyrant all his Powers controul.
Then in the height of VVoe to his Relief
He cals the Gods, yet in the mid'st of Grief
All fair Respect does still to Sylvia give,
To shew that ev'n in Death his Love should live.
He who for Daphne like Regret did prove,
And the horn'd God (who breathless, thought his Love
The fair-hair'd Syrinx in his Arms he clasp'd,
And slender Reeds for her lov'd Body grasp'd)
So far, (remembring their like amorous Fate)
His unjust sufferings commiserate,
That both straight swore in Passion, and disdain,
To punish the proud Author of his Pain:
Their powerfull Threats alike effect pursues;
See! that proud Beauty a Trees shape endues.
Each of her Hairs does sprout into a Bough,
And she that was a Nymph, an Elm is now.
VVhilst thus transform'd, her feet (to Roots spred) stuck
Fast in the ground, she was at last o'rtook
By panting Lyrian; happy yet, to see
Her he so priz'd within his Power to be;
Ye Gods then saies he! who by this sad Test
Have 'fore mine Eyes Natures great Power exprest,
Grant that to this fair Trunk which Love ne'r knew
My heart may yet a Love eternall shew.
This having said, unto the yet warm Bole
He clings, (whilst a new Form invests his Soul)
VVinding in thousand twines about it, whence
Hee's call'd of Love the perfect Symbole since.
In brief, this faithfull Lover now is found
An Ivy Stock; which creeping from the ground
About the loved stem, still climbing is,
As if he sought her Mouth to steal a Kiss:
[Page 25]Each leafe's a heart; whose colour does imply
His wish obtain'd, Loves Perpetuity;
VVhich still his strict Embraces evidence.
For all of him is lost but only sence,
And that you [...]d swear remains; and say (to see
The Elm in his Embraces hugg'd) that he
VVilling to keep what he had gain'd at last,
For fear she should escape, holds her so fast.
FINIS.
Forsaken LYDIA. Out of the Italian of Cavalier Marino.
IN Thunder now the hollow Cannon roar'd,
To call the farre-fam'd Warriours aboard,
Who that great feud (enkindled 'twixt the French
And German) with their bloud attempt to quench.
Now in the open Sea they proudly ride,
And the soft Chrystall with rude Oares divide;
Perfidious Armillus at once tore
His Heart from Lydia, Anchor from the shore.
'Twas Night, and Aged Proteus had driv'n home
His numerous Heard, fleec't with the Seas white fome;
The Winds were laid to rest, the fishes slept,
The wearied world a generall silence kept,
No noise, save from the Surges hollow caves,
Or liquid silver of the justling waves,
Whilst the bright Lanthorns shot such trembling light,
As dazled all the twinkling eyes of Night.
The faire Inamorata (who from farre
Had spy'd the Ship which her hearts treasure bare,
Put off from Land; and now quite disembay'd,
Her Cables coiled, and her Anchors weigh'd,
Whilst gentle gales her swelling sailes did court
To turn in scorn her Poop upon the Port)
With frantick speed from the detested Town
To the deserted shore comes hurrying down.
As the Idaean Shepheard stood amaz'd,
Whilst on the sacred Ravisher he gaz'd,
Who snatch'd the beauteous Trojan youth away,
And wafted through the yeelding Clouds his prey;
Or as that Artist whose bold hand durst shape
Wings to his shoulders (desperately to scape
A loathed servitude) through untrac'd skies
Creets King pursu'd with fierce, yet wondring Eyes:
The flying Navy Lydia so beheld,
Her Eyes with Teares, her Heart with Passion swell'd;
In sighs to these she gave continuall vent,
And those in brinish streames profusely spent:
But tears and sighs alas bestowes in vain,
Borne by the sportive Wind to the deaf Main;
The Main, who griefe inexorably mocks,
As she her self is scorn'd by steady Rocks.
O what a black Eclipse did straight disguise
In Clouds the Sunshine of her lovely Eyes!
She tore her Cheeks, Hair, Garments, and imprest
Marks of his falshood on her guiltlesse breast.
She cals on her disloyall Lovers Name,
And sends such sad loud Accents to reclame
The Fugitive, as if at every cry
Her weary soul forth with her voice would fly.
Whither, ah Cruell! There, full grief represt
Her Tongue, and taught her Eyes to weep the rest;
Whither, ah Cruell, from the hollow side
Of the next Rock the Vocall Nymph replied.
In Tears and Sighs the Water and the Aire
Contend which in her sorrowes most shall share;
And the sad Sea hoarse with incessant grones
Wakens her faint grief, and supplyes her mones.
Oh stop kind Zephyre but one minutes space,
(She cries) the swelling Sailes impetuous race,
That my expiring groanes may reach the eare
Of him who flyes from her he will not heare.
Perhaps, though whilst alive I cannot please,
My dying Cryes his Anger may appease,
And my last Fall, Trophey of his Disdain,
May yeeld delight, and his lost Love regain▪
Receive my heart in this extreme farewell,
Thou in whom Cruelty and Beauty dwell,
With Thee it fled; but what alas for me
Is it to lose my Heart who have lost Thee?
Thou art my better selfe; Thou of my heart▪
The soul, more than the soul that moves it, art:
And if thou sentence me to suffer death
(My Life) to Thee let me resign my breath.
Alas I doe not aske to live content,
That were a blessing me Fate never meant;
All that my wishes aime at, is, that I
(And that's but a poore wish) Content may dye;
And if my heart, by Thee already slain,
Some reliques yet of a loath'd life retain,
Oh let them by thy pitty find release,
And in thy Armes breath forth their last in Peace.
No greater happinesse than Death I crave;
So in thy dearest sight I death may have;
And if thy hand, arm'd with relentlesse Pride▪
Shall the small thread of my poor Life divide,
What Pleasure than that Sorrow would be higher?
VVhen I in Paradice at least expire;
And so at once the different Arrowes prove,
Of Death from thy hand, from thy Eyes of Love.
Ah! if so pleas'd thou art with Wars alarmes;
If that be it that cals thee from my Armes;
If thou aspir'st by some advent'rous toiles
To raise proud Trophyes deckt with glorious spoiles,
Why fondly dost thou seek for these elsewhere?
Why leav'st thou me a pris'ner to despair?
Turn; nor thy willing Captive thus forsake,
And thou shalt all my Victories partake.
Though I to thy dear Eyes a Captive be,
Thousands of Lovers are no lesse to me.
Unhappy! who contend and sue for sight
Of that which thou unkindly thus dost slight;
Is't not a high attempt that can comprize
Within one Act so many Victories;
To triumph over Triumphs, and subdue
At once the Victor and the Vanquish'd too?
But if to stay with me thou dost refuse,
And the rude Company of Souldiers choose,
Yet give me leave to goe along with Thee,
And in the Army thy Attendant be.
Love, though a child and blind, the Wars hath known,
Can handle Armes, and buckle Armour on;
And thou shalt see, my courage will disdain
(Save of thy Death) all fear to entertain.
I will securely 'midst the arm'd Troops run,
Venus hath been Mars 'his-Companion;
And though the heart in thy obdurate Breast
Be with an Adamantine Corslet drest,
Yet I in stead (to guard thee from all harm)
With my own hands will thy fair body arm,
And the Reward Love did from me detain
In peace, in War shall by this service gain.
And if it fortune that thou undergoe
Some dangerous hurt by the prevailing Foe,
I sadly by thy side will sit to keep
Thee company, and as thou groan'st will weep.
My Sorrow with thy Anguish shall comply,
I will thy Bloud, and thou my Tears shalt dry:
Thus by an equall sympathy of pure
Affections we each others wounds will cure.
Perhaps when he this sweet effect of Love
Shall see, the happy President may move
The stubborn Enemy more mild to grow,
And to so soft a yoak his stiffe neck bow,
Who by himself gladly betraid to thine,
Shall willingly his own Command resigne.
So by a way of Conquest strangely new,
Thou shalt at once Love, Armes, and Soules subdue.
Ah most unhappy! he to these sad cries
Inexorable his deafe eare denies;
And far more cruell than the rough Seas are,
Laughs at my sighs, and slights my juster Prayer▪
See, whilst▪ thou spreadst thy sailes to catch the Wind,
What a sad Object thou hast left behind.
Of War alas why dost thou goe in quest?
Thou leav'st a fiercer War within my Breast.
Thou sly'st thy Country and more happy state,
To seek in some strange Land a stranger Fate;
And under forraign Climes and unknown Stars,
T'encounter hazards of destructive Wars;
Eager to thrust thy self (lavish of breath)
Upon Disasters, Dangers, Bloud and Death,
Changing (ah too unwary, too unwise)
Thy certain Joyes for an uncertain Prize.
Can it be true thou more thy self should'st please
With busie troubles than delightfull ease,
And lik'st th'enraged Deeps rough toiles above
The calmer pleasures and sweet sports of Love?
Canst thou from a soft bosome fly (ah lost
To gentlenesse▪) to be on rude Waves tost?
And rather choose in Seas a restlesse Grave,
Than in these Arms a quiet Port to have?
With furrowing Keel thou plow'st the foming Main,
And (O obdurate) hearst not me complain;
Too swift thou fly'st for Loves slow wings t'oretake,
Love, whom perfidiously thou didst forsake;
And all the way thou swell'st with Pride, to know
The suff'rings for thy sake I undergoe,
Whilst the mild East to flatter thy Desires
With his soft Breath thy flagging Sail inspires.
Go faithlesse Youth, faithlesse and foolish too,
Thy Fate, or folly rather, still pursue;
Go, and now thou art from my Fetters free,
Never take care who sighs or dyes for Thee.
Oh! if the Heavens are just, if ever they
With Eyes impartiall humane wrongs survey,
Heaven, heaven my tears implore, to Heaven I cry,
Avenge my suff'rings, and his Treachery.
Be Seas and Skyes thy foes! no gentle gale
Blow on thy Shrowds! destruction fill thy Saile ▪
No Star to thee (lost in despair and Night)
When thou invok'st, disclose its friendly Light.
To Scythian Pyrats, (such as shall despise
Thy fruitless tears) mayst thou become a Prize,
By whose inhumane usage mayst thou be
Spoil'd of the Liberty thou took'st from me.
Then thou the difference shalt understand
Betwixt the shafts shot from a Thracian hand,
And Lovers eye; the odds betwixt a rude
Insulting Foe, and Loves soft servitude:
The Breast his golden Darts not pierc'd, shall feel
The sharp Impression of more cruell steel,
And thou enslav'd, which are the stronger prove
The fetters of Barbarians, or of Love.
Ye Seas and Skies, which of my amorous care
The kindly faithfull Secretaries are,
To you my crying Sorrows I addresse,
To you the witnesses of my distresse;
Shores by the losse of my fair Sun forlorn,
Winds who my sole delight away have born,
Rocks the Spectators of my haplesse Fate,
And Night that hearst me mourn disconsolate.
Nor without reason is't (alas) that I
To Stars and Sands bewail my misery;
For with my State they some proportion bear,
And numberlesse as are my woes appear.
Heaven in this Quire of beautious Lights doth seem
To represent what I have losse in him;
The Sea to whom his flight I chiefly owe,
His heart in Rocks, my tears in Waves doth show.
And since to these Eternall Fires whose Light
Makes Sleep's dark Mansion so serenely bright
I turn; what one amongst them shall I find
To pitty me above the rest inclin'd?
She who in Naxos when forsook did meet
A better Spouse than him she chose in Creet,
Though all the rest severely are intent
To work me harm, should be more mildly bent.
Oh Thou who guid'st the Pompous train of Night,
With the addition of thy glorious Light,
Whose radiant hair a Crown adorns, whence streams
The dazling lustre of seven blazing Gems:
If that Extremity thou not forget,
If thy own sorrows thou remember yet,
Stop at my sighs awhile, and make the Crue
Of thy bright fellows stay and herken too.
Thou know'st the like occasions of our Fate,
Both circumvented by unkind Deceit;
A cruell I, a Love ungratefull Thou
Didst follow, both to equall suff'rings bow,
In this to thine a near resemblance bears,
The Cause that dooms me to eternall Tears;
I now am left as thou wert heretofore
Alone upon the solitary Shore.
But howsoever our misfortunes share
The same Effects, their Causes diff'rent are;
I my poor self no other have deceiv'd;
Thy Brother was through thee of Life bereav'd.
Sleep thy Betrayer was, but Love was mine,
Thou by thy short Eclipse didst brighter shine,
And in the Skyes a Crown of Stars obtain,
But I on Earth (forsaken) still remain.
Fool, to whose care dost thou thy grief impart?
What dost thou talk, or know'st thou where thou art?
She midst a dancing Bevy of fair Lights
Trips it away, and thy misfortune slights:
Yet happy may she go, and her clear beams,
Whilst I lament, drench in the Brinish streams;
Perhaps the Sea, to my afflicted state,
Will prove then her lesse incompassionate.
But how on Seas for help should I relye,
Where nothing we but Waves and Rocks can spye?
Yet so small hopes of succour hath my grief,
That of those Rocks and Waves I beg Relief.
Down from these Rocks, of Life my troubled Breast,
By a sad Precipice may be releast,
And my impurer soul in these Waves may
Quench her Loose Flames, and wash her stains away.
Ah Lydia, Lydia, whither dost thou send
Thy lost Complaint? Why words so fruitless spend
To angry Waves? to Winds where horror roars?
To Rocks that have no ears? to sencelesse shores?
Thou giv'st thy grief this Liberty in vain,
If Liberty from grief thou canst not gain;
And fond presumption will thy hopes abuse,
Unlesse thou grief and life together lose.
Dye then: so shall my Ghost (as with despair
Laden it flyes) raise in the troubled Air
Tempests more lowd than Thunder, Storms more black
Than Hell or Horrour, in curl'd Waves to wrack
His Ship and him: so (and 'tis just) shall I
And my proud Foe, at least together dy:
On him who first these bitter Sorrows bred,
Seas shall avenge the Seas of Tears I shed.
This said, she made a stop; and with rash hast
(By violent despair assisted) cast
Her self down headlong in the raging Sea,
Where she beleev'd it deepest; Now to be
Sadly by her enrich'd; whilst from her fair
Vermilion lips, bright eyes, Phaebeian hair,
Corall a purer tincture doth endue,
Chrystall new light, Pearls a more Orient hue.
Such was the haplesse fate of Lydia,
Who in those Waves from which the King of Day
Each morn ascends the blushing East, in those
From which the Queen of Love and Beauty rose,
A second Queen of Love and Beauty perish'd,
Who in her Looks a thousand Graces cherish'd;
And by a sad Fate (not unpittied yet)
A second Sun eternally did set.
Sweet Beauty, the sad wrack of ruthlesse Seas,
And ill plac'd Love, whom cruell Destinies
Have food for Monsters made, and sport for Waves,
With whom so many Graces had their graves,
If vain be not my hopes, If no dead fire
These Lines devoted to thy Name inspire,
Though buried in the Seas salt Waves thouly,
Yet in Oblivions Waves thou shalt not dy.
FINIS.
THE Rape of Hellen, Out of the Greek OF COLUTHUS▪ By EDVVARD SHERBURNE Esq
LONDON, Printed by W. Hunt, for Tho. Dring, at the Sign of the George, near Cliffords-Inn in Fleetstreet. 1651.
Vpon the Title.
THe Rape, &c.] Not to be taken in the Common acception of the Word: (for Paris was more courtly than to offer, and Hellen more kind-hearted than to suffer, such a violence;) but rather for a transporting of her (with her consent) from her own Country to Troy: which Virgil seems to insinuate in the first of his Aeneis, where he speaks to Achates to bring him from the Fleet, amongst other Presents for Dido, a rich Veil; once,
Ornatus Argive Helenae, quos illa Mycenis
Pergama eum peteret, inconcessosque Hymenaeos
Extulerat, &c,
Greek Hellens dress, which she from Sparta brought,
When Troy, and lawless Marriages she sought.
Where the Word peteret is to be applyed as well to Hymenaeos as Pergama, and implies that the quitting of her Country, and going along with Paris, was an Act she desir'd as well as consented to, as Donatus (in 6 Aeneid.) [Page] hath rightly observed; and thus much the ensuing Poem makes good.
But the Occasion of this her Rape is diversly reported: Herodotus writes that Paris did it in a meere bravery of Knight Erranty, following the Examples of the Cretans, Phaenicians, and the Argonauticks, in the Rapes of Europa, Io, and Medea. Dictys Cretensis and others report that being sent Embassodor unto the Graecian Princes to negotiate for the Release of his Ant Hesione, or (according to Plutark in vita Homeri) [...]. i. e. to learn Greek fashions; and being kindly entertain'd at Sparta in the Court of Menelaus, he in his absence sollicited his Queen, and having won her Consent, carried both her and her two Kinswomen Clymene and Aethra away with him to Troy.
[...]
[...].
But she in neat-built Ships (as falsely Fame
Gives out) ne'r sail'd, nor e'r at Ilium came.
Saies Stesichorus in his Recantation, after he had been struck blind for slandering Hellen, (with a Matter of Truth) as Plato in Phaedro and Pausan. in Lacon. make mention. Euripides likewise in her Tragedy (though elsewhere he be of another Opinion,) makes her not to be rapt by Paris, but conveyed into Aegypt by Mercury, and there kept in safe Custody by Proteus: and that a Cloud in her Likeness was only transported by Paris to Troy: which Menelaus after the end of the Trojan Wars brought away with him, but being driven (in his Return) upon the Coast of Aegypt, lost there his Cloudy Hellen, and recovered the true one by the means of Theonoe Proteus his Daughter.
[Page]But this is overborn by the generall stream of all Poeticall Relations, which say, (and our Author here goes along with the Tide) that Hellen was assign'd to Paris, as
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...].
Euripid. Iphig. in Aul.
The gift of Venus, when she near
The Fountain cleer,
With Pallas, and the Wife of Jove,
For Beauty strove.
Upon which score he is said to have undertaken a Voyage to Sparta, and from thence to have brought her away with him to▪ Troy. Which occasioned those fatall and lasting Wars, so celebrated by Homer in his Iliads, to which this ensuing Poem, seems as it were a Prologue or Preludium.
There be those yet who think her not worth the Honour of so famous a Contention; and Hoelzlin (in Prolegom: ad Apollon:) saith in plain terms, that Homer might be asham'd to make that the Argument of his Work, nor will beleeve that any man could be such a Wittall, as to seek by force to regain one to his Bed, that had so notoriously wrong'd it. (Though this Example wants not seconds if we may credit Parthenius in Eroticis) But hear we another Doctors opinion: with which we conclude:
Olim mirabar, quod tanti ad Pergama Belli
Europae, atque Asiae causa puella fuit.
[Page]Nunc, Pari, tu sapiens, & iu, Menelae fuisti:
Tu, quiaponebas; tu, quia lentus eras.
Digna quidem facies, pro qua vel obiret Achilles
Vel Priamus, belli Causa probanda fuit.
Propert. l. 2. eleg. 3.
I wonder'd once, that Troy's War, which engag'd
Half the whole World, should for a Wife be wag'd,
But now methinks both Princes I approve,
This 'cause he sought, that 'cause he kept his Love.
Worthy Achilles, worthy Priams Life,
Was such a Beauty: 'Twas a just brave strife.
The Rape of HELLEN, out of the Greek of Coluthus.
YE Trojan Nymphs! Xanthus fair Progeny!
Who on your Fathers Sands oft laying by
Your sacred Armelets, and Heads reedy Tires,
Ascend to dance on Ide in mixed Quires;
Quit your rough floud; and tell the Phrygian Swains
Just verdict: how the Hills he left, the Main's
New Toyls to undergo: his Mind what prest
With fatall Ships both Sea, and Land t'infest;
Whence did that unexpected strife arise,
Which made a Shepheard judge 'twixt Deities:
What was his bold Award; how to his Ear
Arriv'd the fair Greek's Name; for you were there:
And Paris thron'd in Ida's shades did see,
And Venus glorying in her Victory.
When tall Thessalian Mountains the Delights
Witness'd of Peleus Hymenaeall Rites,
Ganymed Nectar at the sacred Feast
By Jove's Command fill'd out to every Guest;
[Page 48]For all descended from caelestiall Race,
That day, with equall forwardness, to grace
Fair Thetis (Amphitrite's Sister) strove.
From Seas came Neptune, from the Heavens came Jove,
And Phoebus from the Heliconian spring,
Did the sweet Consort of the Muses bring.
Next whom, the Sister to the Thunderer
Majestick Juno came: nor did the Fair
Harmonia's Mother Venus stay behind;
Suada went too, who for the Bride entwin'd
The Wedding Garland, and Love's Quiver bare.
Pallas from Nuptials though averse, was there;
Aside her heavy Helmet having laid.
Apollo's sister, the Latonian Maid,
(Though wholly to the savage Chace apply'd)
Her Presence at this Meeting not deny'd.
Stern Mars, not such as when his Spear he shakes,
But as when he to lovely Venus makes
His amorous Address, (his Shield, and Lance
Thrown by) there smiling mix'd in a soft dance.
But thence unhonour'd Erys was debarr'd;
Nor Chyron her, nor Peleus, did regard.
But Bacchus shaking with his golden Hair
His dangling Grapes, let's Zephyre's sportive Air
Play with his curled Tresses: like some young
Heyfer, (which by a furious Gad-fly stung
Quitting the Fields, in shady Forests straies)
Whilst madded Erys roams: seeking alwaies,
How to disturb the quiet of the Feast.
Oft from her rocky Cell (with rage possest)
She flings; now stands, then sits: still up and down
Groaping on th'Earth, yet could not find a stone:
For Lightning shee'd have strook: or by some spell
The bold Titanean Brethren rais'd from Hell
[Page 49]VVith hostile- Flames to storm Jove's starry Fort;
Though thus enrag'd, she yet does Vulcan court,
Whom Fire, and Malleable steel obeys:
She thought the sound of clatt'ring shields to raise,
That so the Gods affrighted with the Noise
Might have run forth, and left their Festive Joys.
But fearing Mars, She does at last incline
To put in Act a far more quaint Design:
She cals to mind Hesperia's golden Fruit;
Whence a fair Apple of dire VVars the Root,
Pulling, the Cause of signall strifes she found:
Then midst the Feast, Dissentions fatall ground
Casts, and disturbs the Goddesses fair Quire.
Juno, of Joves Bed proud, does first admire
The shining Fruit, then challeng'd as her due:
But Venus (all surpassing) claims it too
As Love's Propriety: which by Jove seen,
He calls, then thus to Hermes, does begin.
Know'st thou not Paris, one of Priam's Sons?
VVho, where through Phrygian Grounds smooth Xanthus runs,
Grazes his horned Heards, on Ida's Hill,
To him this Apple bear: say 'tis our Will,
As Arbiter of Beauty, he declare
VVhich of these Goddesses excells in rare
Conjunction of arch'd Eyebrows, lovely grace,
And well-proportion'd roundness of the Face;
And she that seems the fairest in his Eyes,
To have the Apple, as her Beauties prize.
This charge on Mercury, Saturnius laies,
VVho humbly his great Sires Commands obeys;
And with officious care Th'Immortals guides:
VVhilst each her self in her own Beauty prides,
But as they went: Loves subtle Queen, her heads
Rich Tire unloosing, with gold Fillets breads▪
[Page 50]Her curious Hair; then thus, with Eyes intent
On her wing'd Sons, her troubled thoughts does vent.
The strife is neer; deer Sons your Mother aide!
This day must crown my Beauty, or degrade.
And much I fear to whom this Clown will give
The golden fruit: Juno, all men beleeve
To be the Graces reverend Nurse: to Her
The gift of Scepters they assign, in War
A powerfull Goddess is Minerva deem'd:
But We alone are of no Pow'r esteem'd.
Nor Empires We, nor Martiall Arms bestow:
Yet why without a cause thus fear We? though
Minervas spear We have not, We yet better
Are with our Caestus arm'd, sweet Loves soft Fetter,
Our Caestus: that our Bow is, that our sting,
Which smart to Women, but not death does bring.
Thus rosie-finger'd Venus on the Way
To her attending Cupids spake, whilst they,
With dutious Words, their drooping Mother cheer.
And now they reach'd the Top of Ida; where
The youthfull Paris neer Anaurus head,
His Father's sheep in Flocks divided fed:
Here of his roving Buls he count doth keep,
And there he reckons o'r his well-fed sheep.
Low as his Knee, a Mountain Goats rough hide
Hung from his shoulders flagging by his side:
In's hand a Neatheards Goad: such to the Eye
(As slowly to his Pipes soft Melody
He moves) appear'd the gentle Phrygian Swain:
Tuning on's Reed, a sweet, though rurall strain.
I'th' solitary stalls oft would he set
Himself with Songs delighting; and forget
The care both of his Heards and Flocks; the Praise
Of Pan and Hermes subject of his Layes,
[Page 51]With Shepheards most in use:) whose sweeter Note
No Dogs rude Howl, no Bulls loud-bellowing Throat
Disturbs; but Eccho only, that affords
An artless sound in unarticulate Words.
His Oxen cloy'd with the rank Grass, were layd,
Stretching their fat sides in the cooler shade;
Under th' Umbrella of a spreading Tree
Whilst he himself sate singing: but when he
Spy'd Hermes with the Goddesses; afraid,
Upstarting, from their sight he would have made:
And, (his sweet Pipe among the Bushes flung)
Abruptly clos'd his scarce commenced Song.
To whom, amaz'd, thus Heavens wing'd Nuncins spake:
Cast away fear; a while thy Flocks forsake,
Thou must in Judgement sit; and freely tell
Which of these Pow'rs in Beauty does excell,
And to the fairest this fair fruit present.
Thus he: when Paris, with Eyes mildly bent
In amorous Glances, of their Beauties took
Exact survey: which had the gracefull'st Look,
The brightest Eyes, whose Neck the whitest skin,
Not leaving ought from Head, to Heel, unseen.
To whom Minerva first her self addrest,
Then, taking by the hand, these Words exprest.
Come hither Paris! leave Jove's Wife behind:
Nor Venus President of Nuptials, mind.
Pallas of Valour the Directress praise:
Intrusted with large Rule and Power, Fame saies,
Thou govern'st Troy: Me chief for Form confess,
I'll make thee too its Guardian in distress.
Comply, and 'gainst Bellona's dreadfull Harms
Secur'd, I'll teach thee the bold deeds of Arms.
Thus Pallas courted him: she scarce had done
When with fair Words, and Looks, Juno begun.
If me the Prize of Beauty thou'lt assign,
The Empire of all Asia shall be thine;
Slight Wars, what good from thence to Princes springs?
Both valiant men and Cowards stoop to Kings.
Nor doe Minerva's Followers oft rise high,
But Servants rather to Bellona dy:
This glorious Proffer stately Juno made.
But Venus (her large Veil unloos'd) displayd
Her whiter Bosome; nor at all was shy;
But did the honied Chain of Loves unty:
And, (whilst to view she her fair Breasts disclos'd)
Thus spake; her Looks into sweet smiles dispos'd.
Our Beauty, Wars forgot, our Beauty prize,
And Empires and the Asian Lands despise.
We know not Wars, nor use of Shields can tell;
In Beauty, Women rather should excell;
For Valour, I'll to thee a Wise commend,
Stead of a Throne fair Hellens Bed ascend.
A Spouse, thee Troy and Sparta shall behold:
Scarce had she ended, when the fruit of Gold
To Venus, as her Beauties noble Prize,
The Swain presented; whence dire Wars did rise,
Who in her hand as she the Apple weigh'd,
Did Juno, and Minerva thus upbraid.
Yield me the Victory, yield me fair Friends!
Beauty I lov'd, and Beauty me attends:
Juno they say thou gav'st the Graces Life,
Yet they have all forsook thee in this strife,
Though thou to Mars and Vulcan Mother art,
Nor Mars nor Vulcan did their Aid impart;
Though this in Flames, that glory in his Spear,
Yet neither one nor other helpt thee here.
How thou braggd'st too, who from no Mothers wombe
But Jove's cleft Skull, the Birth of Steel, didst come?
[Page 53]In Armour how thy Limbs are drest? how Love
Thou shunn'st, and dost the Toyls of Mars approve?
Alike to Peace and Wedlock opposite.
Minerva! know, that such for glorious Fight
Are much unfit, whom by their Limbs, none well
Whether they Men, or Women be, can tell.
Sad Pallas thus, proud of her Victory,
She flouts, and her, and June both puts by,
Whilst she the fatall Prize of Beauty won.
Inflam'd with Love, hot in pursuit of one
To him unknown; with inauspicious Fate,
Men skill'd in Architecture, Paris strait
To a dark Wood conducts; where, in a Trice,
Tall Oaks are fell'd by Phereclus Advice,
Of Ills the Author, who before to please
His fond King Ships had built; whilst for the Seas
Paris does Ida change; and on the shore
With frequent Pray'rs, and Sacrifice, implore
His kind Assistant, Queen of Marriage-vows;
Then the broad Back of Hellespontus ploughs.
But sad presaging Omens did appear:
Seas rising to the Skyes, did either Bear
Surround with a dark Ring of Clouds; whilst through
The troubled Air a showring Tempest flew.
With stroaks of active Oars the Ocean swell'd:
And now, the Trojan Shores forsook, he held
His Course for Greece, and born with winged hast,
Ismarus Mouth, and tall Pangaeus past.
Then Love-slain Phyllis rising Monument,
And of the Walk which oft she came and went,
The Ninefold Round he saw; there she to mourn
Did use, while her Demophoons safe Return,
She from Athenian Lands expected: then
Coasting by Thessalies broad Shores, in Kenn
[Page 54]The fair Achaian Cities next appear'd.
Men-breeding Phthia, and Mycene, rear'd
High, and wide built; when the rich Meadows past
Water'd by Erymanthus, He at last
Spies Sparta, lov'd Atrides City, plac'd
Near cleer Eurotas, with rare Beauties grac'd:
Not far from whence, under a shady Wood,
H'admiring saw how sweet Therapuae stood.
For now but a short Cut he had to sail,
Nor long was heard the dash of Oars: They hale
The Ship to shore, and with strong Haulsers ty'd;
When Paris with cleer water purifi'd,
Upon his Tiptoes lightly treads, for fear
His lovely feet he with the Dust should smear,
Or going hastily, his Hair which flows
Beneath his Hat, the Winds should discompose.
By this, the stately Buildings, drawing nigher
He views, the Neighbouring Temples that aspire,
And Cities splendour: where with wondring Eyes
The Statue of their Pallas he espies,
All of pure Gold; from which, his roving sight
Next Hyacinthus Image does invite;
The Boy with whom Apollo us'd to play:
VVhom lest Latona should have rapt away
(Displeas'd with Jove) the Amyclaeans fear'd.
Phoebus from envious Zephyre, who appear'd
His Rivall, could not yet secure the Boy:
But Earth t' appease the sad Kings Tears, his Joy,
A Flow'r produc'd; a Flow'r, that doth proclame
Of the once lovely Youth, the still-lov'd Name.
Now near Atrides Court▪ before the Gates,
Bright in caelestiall Graces Paris waites.
Not Semele a Youth so lovely bare:
(Your Pardon Bacchus! though Joves Son you are)
[Page 55]Such Beauty did his Looks irradiate.
But Hellen the Court doors unbolting strait,
VVhen 'fore the Hall the Trojan she had seen
And throughly mark'd, kindly invites him in,
And seats him in a Silver Chair; her Eyes
VVhilst on his Looks she feeds, not satisfies.
First she suppos'd he Venus Son might be,
Yet when his quiver'd Shafts she did not see
She knew he was not Love; but by the shine
Of his bright Looks thought him the God of VVine.
At length her VVonder in these VVords did break.
VVhence art my Guest? thy Stock, thy County speak;
For Majesty is printed in thy Face:
And yet thou seem'st not of the Argive Race.
Of sandy Pylos sure thou canst not be,
I know Antilochus, but know not thee.
Nor art of Phthia which stout Men doth breed,
I know all Aeacus renowned Seed;
The glorious Peleus, and his warlike Son,
Courteous Patroclus, and stout Telamon:
Thus Hellen curious to be satisfi'd,
Questions her Guest; who fairly thus reply'd.
If thou of Troy in Phrygia's utmost bound,
By Neptune, and Apollo walled round,
And of a King from Saturn sprung, who there
Now fortunately rules, didst ever hear,
His Son am I; and all within his sway,
To me, as chief next him, subjection pay.
From Dardanus am I descended, he
From Jove; where Gods, immortal though they be
Do oft serve Mortals: who beguirt our Town
Round with a VVall, a VVall that ne'r shall down.
I am great Queen! the Judge of Goddesses,
VVhom though displeas'd, I censur'd, and of these
[Page 56]The lovely Venus Beauty did prefer:
For which, in noble Recompence, by her
Promis'd a VVife▪ her Sister, Hellen nam'd.
For whom these Troubles I through Seas sustain'd,
Since Venus bids, here let us solemnize
Our Nuptiall Rites; Me nor my Bed despise;
On what is known, insist we need not long
Thy Spouse from an unwarlike Race is sprung:
Thou all the Graecian Dames dost far outvy,
Beautious thy Looks are, theirs, their Sex belye.
At this she fix'd on Earth her lovely Eyes,
And doubtfull, paws'd a while, at length replies.
Your Wals my Guest! by hands Caelestiall rais'd,
And Pastures, where his Heards Apollo graz'd,
I long to see: To Troy bear me away.
I'l follow thee▪ and Venus will obey;
Nor, there, will Menelaus anger heed;
Thus Paris, and the beautious Nymph agree'd.
Now Night the ease of Cares, the Day quite spent,
Sleep brought, suspended by the Morns Ascent,
Of Dreams the two Gates opening: this of Horn,
In which the Gods unerring Truths are born.
T' other of Ivory: whence couzening Lies,
And vain Delusions of falfe Dreams arise.
When from Atrides Hospitable Court
Paris through plough'd Seas Hellen does transport,
And in the gift of Venus proudly joy;
Bearing with speed the Fraight of War to Troy.
Hermione, soon as the Morn appears,
To Winds her torn Veyl casting, big with Tears,
Her loss bewails; and from her Chamber flying,
With grief distraught, thus to her Maids spake, crying.
Whither without me is my Mother fied?
Who lay with me last Night in the same Bed?
[Page 57]And with her own hand lockt the Chamber▪ door?
Thus spake she weeping: All the Maids deplore
With her their Mistress absence; yet assay
With these kind Words her Passion to allay.
Why dost thou weep sweet Child! thy Mother's gon,
But will return soon as she hears thy Moan.
See how thy Tears have blubber'd thy fair Cheeks!
Much weeping the divinest Beauty breaks.
She 'mongst the Virgins is but gon to play,
And comming back perhaps hath miss'd her way:
And in some flowry Medow doubtfull stands;
Or in Eurotas bath'd, sports on his Sands.
The weeping Child replyes; the Hill, Brook, Walk,
And Fields she knows; doe not so idly talk:
The Stars doe sleep, yet on cold Rocks she lies;
The Stars awake, and yet she does not rise.
O my dear Mother! where dost thou abide?
Upon what Mountains barren Top reside?
Hath some wild Beast alas! thee wandring slain;
(Yet from Joves Royall Blood wild Beasts refrain)
Or fall'n from some steep Precipice, art layd
An unregarded Corse in some dark shade?
And yet in ev'ry Grove, at ev'ry Tree,
Search have I made, but cannot meet with Thee.
The Woods we blame not then; nor doe profound
Furota's gentle streams conceal thee drown'd:
For in deep Floods the Naiades doe use,
Nor e'r by them their Lives doe VVomen lose.
Thus poor Hermione complaining wept,
Then tow'rd her shoulder her head leaning, slept.
(Sleep is Deaths Twin, and as the younger Brother,
In every thing doth imitate the other;
Hence 'tis that VVomen often when they weep,
O'recharg'd with their own sorrows, fall asleep)
[Page 58]VVhen in a Dream, her Mother (as she thought)
Seeing, she cries, vex'd, yet with fear distraught:
From me disconsolate last night you fled,
And left me sleeping in my Fathers Bed.
VVhat Hill, what Mountain have I left untrac'd?
To Venus pleasing Ties mak'st thou such haste?
To whom fair Tyndaris this Answer made:
Daughter! though griev'd, me yet forbear t'upbraid:
That treacherous Stranger, who the other Day
Came hither, carry'd me by force away.
Thus she: at which out strait Hermione flies.
But finding not her Mother, louder cries;
VVing'd Issue of th' Inhabitants of Air,
Ye Birds! to Menalaus strait declare,
One late arriving at the Spartan Port,
Hath rob'd him of the Glory of his Court.
Thus to regardless VVinds did she complain,
Seeking her absent Mother, but in vain.
Mean-time, through Thracian Towns, and Helles strait
Paris arriv'd safe with his beautious Fraight,
VVhen from the Castle, viewing on the shore
A new guest Land, her hair Cassandra tore.
But Troy with open Gates her welcome shows
To the returning Author of her VVoes.
FINIS.
THE SYRACUSIANS, OR ADONIS FESTIVAL. Theocrit. Idyl. 15.
Gorgo, Eunoa, Praxinoe, two strangers, an old Woman.
Gorgo.
PRay, is Praxinoe within?
Eunoa.
What, Dear
Gorgo! how great a stranger? yes, shee's here.
Prax.
I'th' name of wonder, what's the news with thee?
Reach her a Stool and Cushion.
Gorgo.
See Casaubon. Lect. Theoc. c. 16.
Not for me.Prax.
Nay sit.
Gorgo.
Well fare a stout heart yet: I thought
I scarce should er'e a live to thee have got
[Page 92]Through such a throng of men, and Coaches: All
The streets are set with Guards, and every stall
Crowded with gallants; and thou know'st beside
From hence to our house is no little stride.
Prax.
My Goodman Dotard (thank him) at th'worlds end
Hath found this hole for Me; lest any friend
Should e'r come at Me: Mischief on his Care
That's onely bent to cross me.
Gorgo.
Dear, beware
To talk thus 'fore the child: See how his eye
Is set upon thee!
Prax.
I, 'tis my good boy;
We speak not of thy Father.
Gorgo.
Now by'r Lady
The Child does understand—Dad's a fine Daddy.
Prax.
Well, this fine Dad, (for we in private may
Say what we please) being spoke to th'other day,
Ceruse and Merc'ry at the shops to buy,
Brings me home salt: this Dunce twelve Cubits high.
Gorgo.
Just so my Diocleides does; that Grave
Of money! Yesterday, a Crown he gave
For a few Dag-locks coarser than Doggs hair;
Five Sheep-skins too he bought: most precious ware!
But let that pass: come, make thee ready strait;
And let's to Court, to see them celebrate
Adonis Feast: the Queen intends (they say)
To make a gallant shew on't.
Prax.
[Page 89]Great ones may
Do great things: tell them this that nothing see.
Gorgo.
Faith, dress thee straight, and go along with me:
With loyterers t' is alwaies holiday.
Prax.
Fetch me some water hither, Eunoa:
D'ee hear, Joan Cleanly! high you, make more haste;
Quick; The Cat loves a Cushion: see how fast
She comes with it!—pour forth: not so much (Drone!)
Yee idle slut, why hast thou wet my gown?
Hold!—W'are 'een washt after a sort, as please
The Fates:—lock the great chest, and bring the keys.
Gorgo.
That gown does thee exceeding well become.
See Causab. L [...]ct. Theoc. c. 16.
How much might the stuff cost thee from the Loom?Prax.
I pray thee do not ask Me: 'bove one Pound
Or two, the weaving: * but the yarn I found.
Gorgo.
Troth it does mighty well.
Prax.
And well y' have sed.
Reach me my Kirtle, wench; and help me spread
My scarf.—Child, you must stay at home: there's sprites
Where we are going, and a horse that bites.
Nay, cry (and th'woo't) as long as thou canst scream,
I care not: dost thou think I'le see thee lame?
Come,—
To Eunoa.
take the boy, and play with him: d'ee hear!Call the Dog in, and make the dore fast.—Dear
What a huge crowd's here! how shall we get by?
They swarm like Ants. O noble Ptolomy!
[Page 94]Many a good deed since thy Fathers daies
We ow thee thanks for. Free are now the waies
From Thieves and Murtherers: no Rogues flock together
To act their cheats now, like birds of a Feather.
But which way now? there's the Horse-guard before us.
Pray friend be fair condition'd; don't ride or'e us.
O, he curvets; 'tis a fierce horse that Bay;
Hee'l throw his Rider, let's get out o'th way:
Run Eunoe:—I'm glad yet I have made
The boy keep home.
Gorgo.
Come, courage; ben't afraid: They'r past us now.
Prax.
And so's my fright: good Lord!
A Horse and Snake are two things I've abhorr'd
Even from a child:—but haste, or else another
Shole will or'etake us.
Gorgo.
Come you from Court, Mother?
Old Woman.
Yes, my good Daughter.
Gorgo.
Pray, may one get in?
Old Woman.
The Greeks did Troy by their endeavours win:
Endeavour will do all things.
Gorgo.
S'lid th'old Crone
Speaks Oracles. To woman what's unknown?
How Jove wood Juno they can tell. But see,
Before the Gate what store of company?
Prax.
A world! Gorgo, thy hand: Eutychides,
[Page 95]Lend Eunoa thine, least she be lost i'th' press.
Let's all crowd in together: Eunoe,
Be sure you keep your hold. Gorgo, Ah me!
My scarfe's rent quite in two: good Sir, for love
Of Heaven, help save my scarf there.
Stranger.
'Tis above My power to do it: yet I'le do my best.
Prax.
They thrust like Swine: how vildely are we prest!
Stranger.
Come, come, w'are well now: take a good heart.
Prax.
May it be ever so with thee, that art
So kind to us: an honest civil man:
But O, they crowd as bad as e're again.
Help, help alas! thrust Eunoa for thy life.
So, now w'are in, as the man said to's wife.
Gorgo.
Come, look upon these Hangings first; so fair,
As if the handy work of Gods they were.
Prax.
Bless me! what Artist made them of so fine
A Woof? what Painter could so well design?
They seem to move: sure they're alive, not wrought:
Lord! Lord! the wit of man surpasses thought.
But see how lovely on a silver bed
(His tender cheeks with a soft down o're spread)
Adonis lies! how admirably fair!
With whom the powers of Hell enamour'd are.
2d. Stranger.
Peace, foolish tatling women; hold your prate:
Your wide mouth'd Dorick here is out of date.
Gergo.
[Page 96]Gup: who art thou? what is our talk to thee?
Correct your maids, not us of Sicilie:
Yet (would you knew't) we are from Corinth sprung,
As was Bellerophon: our Mother Tongue
Peloponnesian is: nor is it scorn
That they speak Dorick, who are Dorick born.
Prax.
More Lords then one, Sir, we disclaim:
See Heins. Lect. The. c. 21.
so short!Ye need not faith: here's those care little for't.
Gorgo.
Whist! whist Praxinoe! The Hymn let's hear:
This is the maid that did from Sperchis bear
The Prize. I know shee'l sing anon, she hmms
Unto her self such sweet Praeludiums.
The Hymn.
THou who in Golgos, and Idalia tak'st
Delight, with lofty Erix; who
See Hein. Lect. Theoc. cap. 21.
gold mak'stThy joy: sweet Venus! see the soft pac't hours
Thy dear Adonis from th'Infernal powers
Have brought again at the years end to thee!
Though slowest of the Deities they be,
Yet they come wish'd for, and with something fraught
Alwaies to all. Thou whom Dione brought
To light, fair Cypris! Berenice's said,
Mortal, by thee to be Immortall made,
And fed with sweet Ambrosia: wherefore now,
Her daughter (to make good her grateful vow
To thee) her Daughter who for form may be
To thy Adonis choisest gifts assigns;
O thou, that gloriest in thy numerous shrines!
The several fruits which laden Top-boughs yeild
Beside him lie: here flowers of every field
In Silver Baskets: there Gold Boxes stand
Full of Assyrian unguents: On this hand,
All sorts of rare Confections; and with those,
What e're of Oyl or Hony we compose.
All Fowls, all beasts for food: green Arbour's drest
With soft Dil branches, where Loves make their nest:
And like young Nightingales that have but now
New try'd their wings, flutter from bough to bough.
O the golds splendor! the pure Ivories too!
The Eagle with Joves Cup-bearer that flew!
And Purple Carpets then sleep softer! may
The wondring Samian, and Milesian say.
Here on a rich Bed doth Adonis lie;
And lovely Venus on another by.
Soft are his kisses, and his lips still red;
Venus, now joy in his regained Bed.
For we to morrow, e're the dew's exhal'd,
With hairs unbound, loose garments, brests unveild,
Him to the foaming waves that wash the shore,
Shall bear from hence, and with sad songs deplore.
The way from Hell (Adonis) unto thee
Is ever open, though to none else free
Of all the glorious Heroes (as they tell)
This ne'r t' Atrides, Ajax ne're befel.
Not Hector, chief of Hecub's numerous Race,
[Page 98] Patroclus, Pyrrhus, those of elder daies,
The Lapithites, Deucalions issue; nor
The Sons of Pelops, (Princes fam'd in War)
Nor Argive Kings could er'e to this attain.
Be now appeas'd: and the next year again
Bring gladness with thee: still propitious prove,
And as thou cam'st, return to us in love.
Gorgo.
O deer! what a rare woman's this? what choice
Of knowledge hath she? and how sweet a voice?
But go:—My husband's fasting still, and then
He eats his own Gall: Fear a hungry man.
Fare-well Adonis for this time; and when
The year's done, come, and make us glad agen.
THE SƲN-RISE.
THou youthfull Goddess of the Morn!
Whose Blush they in the East adore;
Daughter of Phoebus! who before
Thy all-enlightning Sire art born!
Haste! and restore the day to me,
That my Loves beautious Object I may see.
Too much of time the night devours,
The Cocks shrill voice calls thee again;
Then quickly mount thy golden Wain
Drawn by the softly-sliding hours:
And make apparent to all eyes
With what Enamel thou dost paint the skies.
Leave thy old husband, let him lie
Snorting upon his downy bed;
And to content thy Lover, spread
Thy Flames new lighted, through the sky;
Heark how thy presence he conjures,
As leading to the Woods his Hounds, he lures.
Moisten the fallow grounds before
Thou com'st, with a sweet dewie rain;
That thirstie Ceres having ta'ne
Her Mornings draught, that day no more
May call for drink; and we may see
Spangled with pearlie drops each bush and tree.
Ah! now I see the sweetest dawn!
Thrice welcome to my longing sight!
Heil divine beautie! Heavenly light!
I see thee through you Cloud of Lawn
Appear; and as thy star does glide,
Blanching with raies the East on every side.
Dull silence, and the drowsie King
Of sad and Meloncholie Dreams,
Now flie before thy cheerful Beams,
The darkest shadows vanquishing:
The Owl, that all the night did keep
A houting, now is fled and gone to sleep.
But all those little Birds, whose noats
Sweetly the listning ear enthrall,
To the clear waters murmuring fall,
Accord their disagreeing throats,
The lustre of that greater Star
Praising, to which thou art but Harbinger.
'Bove our Horizon see him scale
The first point of his brighter Round!
O how the swarthie Aethiop's bound
With reverence to his light to veil,
And love the colour of his look,
Which from a heat so mild, so pure he took.
A God perceivable is he
By humane sense, Natures bright eye,
Without whom all her works would die,
Or in their births imperfect be:
He Grace and Beautie gives alone,
To all the Works of her Creation.
With holie Reverence inspir'd,
When first the day renews it's light,
The Earth, at so Divine a sight,
Seems as if all on Altar fir'd,
Reeking with Perfumes to the skies,
Which she presents, her Native Sacrifice.
The humble Shepherd to his Raies,
Having his Rustick Homage paid,
And to some cool retired shade
Driven his bleating Flocks to Graze;
Sits down, delighted with the sight
Of that great Lamp, so milde, so fair, so bright▪
The Eagle in her Airy sitting
Spreading her wings, with fixed eye
Gazes on his, t'whose Deitie
She yields all Adoration fitting:
As to the only quickning fire,
And Object that her eye does most desire.
The Salmon (which at Spring forsakes
Thetis salt Waves) to look on him;
Upon the waters top doth swim:
And to express the joy he takes,
As sportingly along he sails,
Mocks the poor Fisher with his silver Scales.
The Bee through flowrie Gardens goes
Buzzing to drink the mornings tears;
And from the early Lilly bears
A kiss, commended to the Rose;
And like a wary Messenger,
Whispers some Amorous story in her ear.
At which, shee rowsing from her sleep,
Her chaster Flames seems to declare
To him again, (whil'st Dew her fair
And blushing leaves in tears doth steep)
The sorrow which her heart doth waste,
That shee's so far from her dear Lover plac't.
And further seems, as if this plaint
In her mute Dialect she made:
"Alas! I shall with sorrow fade,
"And pine away in this restraint,
"Unless my too too rigorous Fate.
"My Constant faithful Love commiserate.
"Love having gain'd the victory
"Over my soul, there acts his harms,
"Nor Thorns so many bear my Arms,
"As in my heart now prickles be:
"The onely Comfort I can give
"My self, is this; I have not long to live.
"But if some courteous Virgin shall,
"Pitying my Fate, pull my sweet flowre,
"E're by a sad and fatal hour
"My Honours fade away and fall;
"I nothing more shall then desire,
"But gladly without murmuring expire.
Peace sweetest Queen of Flowres! now see
Sylvia, Queen of my Love, appear:
Who for thy Comfort brings with her
What will thy wishes satisfie;
For her white hand intends to grace thee,
And in her sweeter Brest, sweet flower to place thee.
The Night: OR, The fair Mourner.
THis fair, and animated Night
In Sables drest; whose Curls of Light
Are with a shade of Cypresse veil▪d;
Not from the Stygian Deeps exhal'd,
But from Heaven's bright Balcone came;
Not dropping Dew, but shedding Flame.
The blushing East her smiles display,
Her beauteous Front the Dawn of Day;
The Stars doe sparkle in her Eyes,
And in her Looks the Sun doth rise.
No mask of Clouds and Storms she wears,
But still serene and calm appears:
No dismall Birds, no hideous Fiends,
Nor charming Hag on her attends;
The Graces are her Maids of Honour,
And thousand Cupids wait upon her.
Dear Flames! still burning, though you are
Supprest: Lights, though obscur'd, still fair!
What Heart does not adore you? who,
But sighs, or languishes for you?
Heaven wishes, by your shade outvy'd,
It's milky Path in Ink were dy'd:
The Sun within an Ebon Case,
Longs to shut up his golden▪ Face:
The Moon too with thy sad Dresse took,
Would fain put on a mourning Look.
Sweet Night! and if th'art Night, of Peace
The gentle Mother! Cares Release!
My Heart, now long opprest, relieve;
And in thy softer Bosome give
My weary Limbs a short Repose;
'Tis but a small Request, Heaven knows:
Nor think it shame to condiscend,
For Night is stil'd the Lovers Friend.
But Muse, thou art too loud I fear,
The Night loves silence, Muse forbear.
I SOSPIRI.
Sighs.
SIghs! light, warm spirits! in which, Air,
And Fire, possesse an equall share:
The Souls soft Breath! Loves gentle Gales!
Which from Griefs Golfe (when all else failes)
Can by a speedy Course, and short,
Conduct the Heart to it's sweet Port:
Ye flattering Zephyrs! by whose Pow'r,
Rais'd on the Wings of thought, each How'r
From the Abysse of Miseries
To her Lov'd Heav'n the freed Soul flies.
True lively sparks of that close Fire,
Which Hearts conceal, and Eyes inspire:
Chast Lamps that burn at Beauties shrine,
Whose purer Flames let none confine:
Nature a warmth unto my Heart,
Does not so kind as yours impart;
And if by Breath preserv'd alive,
By your Breath only I survive.
[Page 97]Loves faithfull Witnesses! the Brief,
But true Expresses of our Grief!
Embassadors of mute Desires!
Dumb Rhetorick which our Thoughts attires!
Grief, when it overloads the Brest,
Is in no other language drest;
For you the suffering Lovers Flame,
Sweet, tounglesse Orators, proclame.
A numerous Descant upon Sorrow!
Which sweetnes doth from sadnes borrow,
VVhen Love two differing Hearts accords,
And Joy, in well-tun'd Grief, affords.
The Musick of whose sweet Concent,
In a harmonious Languishment,
Does softly fall, and gently rise,
'Till in a broken Cloze, it dies.
Nature, and all that call her Mother,
In Sighs discourse to one another:
Theirs, Nightingals, and Doves, in Tones
Different expresse; this sings, that grones:
The Thrush, his, whistles to his Hen;
The Sparrow chirps out his agen;
Snakes breath their amorous sighs in Hisses,
This Dialect no Creature misses.
The Virgin Lilly, bashfull Rose,
In Odours their soft sighs disclose;
Theirs, sportive VVinds in whispers breath;
Earth hers in Vapours doth bequeath
To her caelestiall Lover; He,
Touch't with an equall sympathie,
To fann the Flame with which she burns,
In gentle Gales his sighs returns.
Yee glowing Sparks of a chast Fire!
Now to those radiant Lights aspire,
The fairer Nests of my fair Love,
And the bright Spheres where you should move.
The Surprise.
THere's no dallying with Love
Though he be a Child and blind;
Then let none the danger prove
VVho would to himself be kind:
Smile he does when thou do'st play,
But his smiles to death betray.
Lately with the Boy I sported;
Love I did not, yet Love feign'd;
Had not Mistress, yet I courted;
Sigh I did, yet was not pain'd;
Till at last this Love in Jeast,
'Prov'd in Earnest my Unrest.
VVhen I saw my fair One first,
In a feigned fire I burn'd;
But true flames my poor Heart pierc't,
VVhen her Eyes on mine she turn'd:
So a reall VVound I took
For my counterfeited Look.
Slighted Love his skill to show,
Strook me with a Mortall Dart;
Then I learnt that 'gainst his Bow,
Vain are the weak Helps of Art:
And thus captiv'd, found that true
Doth dissembled Love pursue.
'Cause his Fetters I disclam'd,
Now the Tyrant faster bound Me;
VVith more scorching Brands inflam'd,
'Cause in Love so cold he found me:
And my sighs more scalding made,
'Cause with VVinds before they playd.
None who loves not then make shew,
Love's as ill deceiv'd as Fate;
Fly the Boy, hee'l cogg and wooe;
Mock him, and he wounds thee strait.
Ah! who dally boast in vain;
False Love wants not reall Pain.
Chloris Eyes and Breasts.
Chloris! on thine Eyes I gaz'd;
When amaz'd
At their brightnes,
On thy Breasts I cast my Look;
No lesse took
With their whitenes:
Both I justly did admire,
These all Snow, and those all Fire.
Whilst these Wonders I survay'd,
Thus I said
In suspence;
Nature could have done no lesse
To expresse
Her Providence,
Than that two such fair Worlds, might
Have two Suns to give them Light.
Love's Arithmetick.
BY a gentle River laid,
Thirsis to his Phillis said;
Equall to these sandy Grains,
Is the Number of my Pains:
And the Drops within their Bounds
Speak the sum of all my Wounds.
Phillis, whom like Passion burns,
Thirsis Answer thus returns:
Many as the Earth hath leaves,
Are the Griefs my heart receives;
And the Stars, which Heaven inspires,
Reckon my consuming Fires.
Then the Shepheard, in the Pride
Of his happy Love, reply'd;
With the Choristers of Air
Shall our numerous Joyes compare;
And our mutuall Pleasures vy
With the Cupids in thine Eye.
Thus the willing Shepheardesse
Did her ready Love expresse:
In Delights our Pains shall cease,
And our War be cur'd by Peace;
We will count our Griefs with Blisses,
Thousand Torments, Thousand Kisses.
Caelia weeping. A Dialogue.
Lover.
SAy gentle God of Love, in Caelia's Brest,
Can Joy and Grief together rest?
Love.
No; for those differing Passions are,
Nor in one Heart at once can share.
Lover.
Why grieves hers then at once, and joyes,
Whilst it anothers Heart destroyes?
Love.
Mistaken Man! that Grief she showes,
Is but what martyr'd Hearts disclose
Which in her Breast tormented lye,
And Life can neither hope, nor dy.
Lover.
And yet a showre of Pearly Rain
Does her soft Cheeks fair Roses stain.
Love.
Alas! those Tears you hers surmise,
Are the sad Tribute of poor Lovers Eyes.
Chorus.
Lover & Love.
What reall then in VVomen can be known!
When nor their Joys, nor Sorrows are their own?
The Vow.
BY my Life I vow,
That my Life, art Thou;
By my Heart, and by my Eyes:
But thy Faith denies
To my juster Oath t'encline,
For thou say'st I swear by thine.
By this Sigh I swear,
By this falling Tear,
By the undeserved Pains
My griev'd Soul sustains.
Now thou may'st beleeve my Moan,
These are too too much my own.
Ice & Fire.
NAked Love, did to thine Eye,
Chloris, once to warm him, fly;
But it's subtle Flame, and Light,
Scorch'd his Wings, and spoyl'd his sight.
Forc'd from thence he went to rest
In the soft Couch of thy Brest:
But there met a Frost so great,
As his Torch extinguish'd strait.
When poor Cupid, thus, (constrain'd
His cold Bed to leave) complain'd;
'Lass! what lodging's here for Me,
If all Ice and Fire She be.
Novo Inamoramento.
ANd yet anew entagled, see
Him, who escap'd the snare so late!
A Truce, no League thou mad'st with Me
False Love! which now is out of date:
Fool, to beleeve the Fire quite out, alas!
VVhich only laid asleep in Embers was.
The Sickness not at first past cure,
By this Relapse despiseth Art:
Now, treacherous Boy, thou hast me sure,
Playing the VVanton with my Heart,
As foolish Children that a Bird have got,
Slacken the Thread, but not unty the knot.
Caelia's Eyes. A Dialogue.
Lover.
LOve! tell me; may we Caelia's Eyes esteem
Or Eyes, or Stars? for Stars they seem.
Love.
Fond, stupid Man! know Stars they are,
Nor can Heaven boast more bright or fair.
Lover.
Are they or erring Lights, or fixed? say.
Love.
Fix'd; yet lead many a Heart a stray.
The Resemblance.
MArble (coy Caelia!) 'gainst my Pray'rs thou art,
And at thy Frown to Marble I convert.
Love thought it fit, and Nature, thus
To manifest their severall Powers in us.
Love made me Marble, Nature thee,
To express Constancy and Cruelty.
Now both of us shall Monuments remain;
I of firm Faith, thou of Disdain.
Love once, Love ever.
SHall I hopeless then pursue
A fair shadow that still flies me?
Shall I still adore, and wooe
A proud Heart that does despise me?
I a constant Love may so,
But alas! a fruitless shew.
Shall I by the erring Light
Of two crosser Stars still sail?
That do shine, but shine in spight,
Not to guide, but make me fail?
I a wandring Course may steer,
But the Harbour ne'r come near.
Whilst these Thoughts my Soul possess,
Reason, Passion would o'rsway;
Bidding me my Flames suppress,
Or divert some other way:
But what Reason would pursue,
That my Heart runs counter to.
So a Pilot bent to make
Search for some unfound out Land,
Does with him the Magnet take,
Sailing to the unknown Strand;
But that (steer which way he will)
To the loved North points still.
The Pendants.
THose Aspes of Gold with Gems that shine,
And in Enammel'd Curles do twine,
Why Chloris in each Ear
Dost thou for Pendants wear?
—I now the hidden meaning guess:
Those Mystick signs express
The stings thine Eyes do dart
Killing as Snakes into my Heart:
And shew that to my Prayers
Thine Ears are deaf as theirs.
The sweet Meat.
Thou gav'st me late to eat
A sweet without, but within, bitter Meat:
As if thou would'st have said, Here, taste in this
What Caelia is.
But if there ought to be
A likeness (deerest!) 'twixt thy gift and thee,
VVhy first what's sweet in thee should I not taste,
The bitter last?
Violets in Thaumantia's Bosome.
TVVice happy Violets! that first had Birth
In the warm Spring, when no frosts nip the Earth;
Thrice happy now; since you transplanted are
Unto the sweeter Bosome of my Fair.
And yet poor Flowers! I pitty your hard Fate,
You have but chang'd, not better'd your Estate:
What boots it you t'have scap'd cold Winters breath,
To find, like me, by Flames a sudden death?
The Dream.
FAir shadow! faithless as my Sun!
Of peace she robs my Mind,
And to my Sense, which rest doth shun,
Thou art no less unkind.
She my Address disdainfull flies,
And thou like her art fleet;
The reall Beauty she denies,
And thou the Counterfeit.
To cross my innocent desires,
And make my Griefs extreme,
A Cruell Mistris thus conspires
With a delusive Dream.
An old Shepheard to a young Nymph.
SCorn me not Fair because you see
My Hairs are white; what if they be?
Think not 'cause in your Cheeks appear
Fresh springs of Roses all the year,
And mine, like Winter, wan and old,
My Love like Winter should be cold:
See in the Garland which you wear
How the sweet blushing Roses there
With pale-hu'd Lillies do combine?
Be taught by them; so let us joyn.
Beauty encreased by Pity.
'TIs true; thy Beauty, (which before
Did dazle each bold gazers Eye,
And forc'd even Rebell-Hearts t'adore,
Or from its conquering splendour fly)
Now shines with new encrease of Light,
Like Cynthia at her full, more bright.
Yet though thou glory in th' Increase
Of so much Beauty deerest Fair!
They err who think this great Access,
(Of which all Eyes th' Admirers are)
Or Art, or Nature's gift should be:
Learn then the hidden Cause from Me.
Pitty in thee, in me desire
First bred; (before, I durst but aime
At fair Respect) now that close fire
Thy Love hath fann'd into a flame:
Which mounting to its proper Place,
Shines like a Glory 'bout thy Face.
Weeping and Kissing.
A Kiss I begg'd; but smiling, Shee
Deny'd it Me:
When strait, her Cheeks with tears o'rflown,
(Now kinder grown)
What smiling shee'd not let me have.
She weeping gave.
Then you whom scornfull Beauties aw,
Hope yet Relief;
For Love, (who Tears from Smiles) can draw
Pleasure from Grief.
The Dilemma.
AS poor Strephon (whom hard Fate
Slave to Chloris Eyes decreed)
By his cruell fair one sate,
Whilst his fat Flocks graz'd along:
To the Musick of his Reed,
This was the sad Shepheards Song.
From those tempting Lips if I
May not steal a Kiss (my Dear!)
I shall longing pine and dye:
And a Kiss if I obtain,
My Heart fears (thine Eyes so near)
By their lightning 'twill be slain.
Thus I know not what to try:
This I know yet, that I dye.
Change defended.
LEave Chloris, leave, prethee no more
With want of Love, or Lightness charge Me:
'Cause thy Looks captiv'd me before,
May not anothers now enlarge me?
He, whose misguided Zeal hath long
Pay'd Homage to some Stars pale light,
Better enform'd, may without wrong
Leave that, t'adore the Queen of Night.
Then if my Heart, which long serv'd thee,
Will to Carintha now encline;
Why term'd inconstant should it be,
For bowing 'fore a richer shrine?
Censure that Lover's such, whose will
Inferiour Objects can entice;
VVho changes for the better still,
Makes that a Vertue, you call Vice.
The Microcosme.
MAn of himself's a little VVorld, but join'd
VVith VVoman, VVoman for that end design'd▪
(Hear cruell fair One whilst I this rehearse!)
He makes up then a compleat Universe.
Man like this sublunary VVorld is, born
The sport of two cross Planets, Love, and Scorn:
VVoman the other VVorld resembles well,
In whose Looks Heav'n is, in whose Breast is Hell.
The Defeat.
GAinst Celinda's Marble Brest
All his Arrows having spent,
And in vain each Arrow sent,
Impotent, unarmed Love,
In a shady Myrtle Grove
Layd him down to rest.
'Soon as layd, asleep he fell:
And a Snake, in (as he slept)
To his empty Quiver crept.
VVhen fair Chloris, whose soft Heart
Love had wounded, (and its smart
Lovers best can tell)
This Advantage having spy'd;
Of his Quiver, and his Bow
Thought to rob her sleeping Foe▪
Softly going then about
To have seiz'd upon them; out
Strait the Snake did glide.
With whose Hisses frighted, she,
(Nimbly starting back again)
Thus did to her self complain:
Never cruell Archer! never
(Full, or empty) does thy Quiver
Want a sting for Me.
Amore secreto.
Content thy self fond Heart! nor more
Let thy close Flames be seen:
If thou with covert Zeal adore
Thy Saint enshrin'd within,
Thou hast thy Feast, as well as they
That unto Love keep open Holy-day.
In his Religion, all are free
To serve him as they may.
In publick some, and some there be
Their vows in private pay.
Love that does to all Humours bend,
Admits of severall Waies unto on End.
Yet wilt thou not repining cease!
Still dost thou murmurs vent?
Stubborn, Rebellious Zealot, peace!
Nor sign of Discontent
So much as in one sigh afford;
For to the Wise in Love, each sighs a Word.
A Maid in Love with a Youth blind of one Eye.
THough a Sable Cloud benight
One of thy fair Twins of Light,
Yet the other brighter seems,
As 't had robb'd its Brother's Beams;
Or both Lights to one were run,
Of two Stars, now made one Sun.
Cunning Archer! who knows yet
But thou wink'st my Heart to hit!
Cloze the other too, and All
Thee the God of Love will call.
The broken Faith.
LAtely by cleer Thames his side,
Fair Lycoris I espy'd
With the Pen of her white hand
These words printing on the Sand:
None Lycoris doth approve
But Mirtillo for her Love.
Ah false Nymph! those Words were fit
In Sand only to be writ:
For the quickly rising Streams
Of Oblivion, and the Thames,
In a little Moments stay
From the Shore wash'd clean away
What thy hand had there imprest,
And Mirtillo from thy Brest.
Complaint on the Death of Sylvia, to the River.
CLeer Brook! which by thy self art chac'd,
And from thy self dost fly as fast,
Stay here a little; and in Brief
Hear the sad Story of my Grief:
Then, hasting to the Sea, declare
Her Waves not half so bitter are.
Tell her how Sylvia (she who late
Was the sole Regent of my Fate)
Hath yeelded up her sweetest Breath,
In the best Time of Life, to Death:
Who proud of such a Victory,
At once triumphs o'r Love, and Me.
But more (Alas!) I cannot speak;
Sighs so my sadder Accents break.
Farewell kind Floud! now take thy Way,
And like my Thoughts, still restless, stray:
If we retarded have thy Course,
Hold! with these Tears thy speed inforce.
A Shepheard inviting a Nymph to his Cottage.
DEer! on yond' Mountain stands my humble Cot,
'Gainst Sun and Wind by spreading Oaks secur'd;
And with a Fence of Quickset round immur'd,
That of a Cabban, make 't a shady Grot.
My Garden's there: o'r which, the Spring hath spread
A flowry Robe; where thou may'st gather Posies
Of Gilliflowers, Pinks, Jelsomines, and Roses,
Sweets for thy Bosome, Garlands for thy Head.
Down from that Rocks side runs a purling Brook
In whose unsullied Face,
(Though thine needs no new Grace,)
Thou mayst, as thou think'st best, compose thy Look▪
And there thine own fair Object made,
Try which (judg'd by the River) may by said
The greater Fire.
That which my Brest feels, or thy Eyes inspire.
To Ligurinus. Horat. Carm. l. 4. Od. 10. Paraphrasticè.
CRuel, and fair! when this soft down,
(Thy Youths bloom,) shall to bristles grow;
And these fair Curls thy shoulders crown,
Shall shed, or cover'd be with snow:
When those bright Roses that adorn
Thy Cheeks shall wither quite away,
And in thy Glass (now made Time's scorn)
Thou shalt thy changed Face survey.
Then, ah then (sighing) thou'lt deplore
Thy Ill-spent Youth; and wish, in vain,
Why had I not those thoughts before?
Or come not my first Looks again?
The Penitent Murderer. Theo [...]rit. Idyl. 31. [...].
VVHen Venus saw Adonis dead,
His Tresses soyl'd, his Colour fled,
She strait her winged Loves commands
To bring the cruell Boar in Bands.
They, the Woods nimbly ranging, found
The pensive Beast, and brought him bound:
This drags along the captiv'd foe,
That pricks him forward with his Bow.
With trembling steps the Boar drew nigh,
For he fear'd angry Venus Eye.
—T' whom thus she spake: O thou the Worst,
Of all wild Beasts, and most accurst!
Was't thou with wounding Turks didst tear
This whiter Thygh? thou kill my Dear?
To whom the Boar reply'd, I swear
By thy self Venus, by thy Dear,
By these my Bonds, these Hunters, I
Meant to thy Love no Injury:
[Page 116]But gazing on him, as some fair
Statue, unapt the flames to bear
Desire had kindled in my Brest,
To kiss his naked Thigh I prest;
And kissing, kill'd him: wherefore these,
These murd'ring Tusks, doom as you please.
(For why alas! Teeth do I bear
That useless and enamour'd are?)
Or if a punishment too small
You yet think that, take Lips and All.
But Venus, pittying the Beast,
Commands that strait he be releas'd;
Who to the Woods ne'r went again,
But liv'd as one of Venus Train:
And coming one Day near a Fire,
Quench'd there the flames of his Desire.
The Shepheard. Theocrit. Idyl. 21.
FAir Eunica I sweetly would have kist,
But was with scorn, and this reproach dismist.
Hence! what? a Shepheard, and yet hope from Me
For such a Grace? We kiss no Clowns, saith she.
My Lips I would not with a kiss so vile
As thine, so much as in a Dream defile.
Lord! how thou look'st? how like a Lubber sport'st?
What fine discourse thou hast? how sweetly court'st?
How soft thy Beard is? and how neat thy Hair?
Thy Lips like sick mens blush, and thy hands are
White as an Ethiops: fogh! thou stink'st, out, quick,
Carrion! be gone; lest thy smell make me sick.
Then in her Brest thrice spitting, me a skew
(Mumbling t'her self) from Head to foot doth view.
[Page 117]Such Pride in her self-flatter'd Beauty takes,
Whilst in Derision Mouths at Me she makes.
This scorn my bloud inflam'd, and red I grew
With anger, like a Rose new bath'd in Dew.
She went her way, and left me vext, to see
I should by such a Huswife slighted be.
Say Shepheards! am I not a handsome Lad?
Or hath some God transform'd, and lately made
M' another Man? for once I'd a good face:
And that (as Ivy Trees) my Beard did grace;
My Locks like Smallage 'bout my Temples twin'd;
And my white Front 'bove my black Eye-brows shin'd.
My Eyes more lovely than Minerva's were,
Than Curds my Lips more soft▪ and sweeter far
My Words than Honey: play too, would you knew't,
I sweetly can, on Pipe, Shalm, Reed, and Flute.
There's not a Country Lass but likes, as passes,
And loves me too: all but your City Lasses;
Who, 'cause a Shepheard, me without regard
(Forsooth!) pass by, alas! they never heard
How Bacchus on the Plains did Oxen tend,
And Venus to a Shepheards Love did bend,
And his fat Flocks on Phrygian Mountains kept,
Or lov'd in Woods, and for Adonis wept.
VVhat was Endymion but a Shepheard? whom
The Moon affected, and from Heaven would come
To lye whole Nights on Latmus with the Boy.
A Shepheard (Rhea) too was once thy Joy:
And oh, how many scapes Jove didst thou make
From Juno's Bed for a young Shepheard's sake?
But Eunica alone doth Swains despise,
And 'bove those Goddesses her self doth prize.
Venus no more thou with thy Love may'st keep
In Town, or Hill; alone thou now must sleep.
The Pastorall Wooing. Daphnis, and Shepheardess. Theocrit. Idyl. 28.
Daphnis.
PAris the Swain, away coy Helen bare:
And I, a Swain, am kiss'd by one more fair.
Shepheardess.
Brag not rude Hind; Kisses are empty things.
Daphnis.
From empty Kisses yet sweet pleasure springs.
Shepheardess.
I'l wash my mouth, wipe off thy Kisses stain.
Daphnis.
Wip'st thou thy Lips? then let us kiss again.
Shepheardess.
Go kiss your Cows; you fit to kiss a Maid!
Daphnis.
Be not so proud: your youth will quickly fade.
Shepheardess.
Grapes though they're dry, yet still are Grapes we see,
And Roses although wither'd, Roses be.
Daphnis.
Let's sit and talk beneath this Myrtles shade.
Shepheardess.
No▪ your smooth Tongue me once before betraid.
Daphnis.
Beneath these Elms then sit and hear me play.
Shepheardess.
Play to your self; I not your Musick weigh.
Daphnis.
[Page 119]Take heed lest thou the Wrath of Venus find!
Shepheardess.
Venus her worst; be but Diana kind.
Daphnis.
Oh say not so: lest her excited Rage
Thee in unextricable Snares ingage.
Shepheardess.
Do what she can, find we Diana's Grace.
Hold off your hands, or else I'l scratch your Face.
Daphnis.
Love, which no Maid e'r did, thou must not fly.
Shepheardess.
By Pan I will: why dost thou press so nigh?
Daphnis.
I fear he'l make thee stoop to thy first Love.
Shepheardess.
Though woo'd by many, none I did approve.
Daphnis.
Amongst those many, here, behold! I sue.
Shepheardess.
Why, my kind Friend, what would'st thou have me do?
The married Life with troubles is repleat.
Daphnis.
No Cares, Joys only Marriage doth beget.
Shepheardess.
They say, Wives of their Husbands live in fear.
Daphnis.
Of whom do Women? rather domineer.
Shepheardess.
But thought of Child-bed Pains makes me afraid.
Daphnis.
Diana, whom thou serv'st, will be thy Aid.
Shepheardess.
[Page 120]But bearing Children will my Beauty wrong.
Daphnis.
In Children thou wilt see thy self still young.
Shepheardess.
What Dowry wilt thou give if I consent?
Daphnis.
My Flocks, my Groves, my Fields, be thou content.
Shepheardess.
Swear, that, when married, thou wilt ne'r forsake me.
Daphnis.
By Pan I will not, so thou please to take me.
Shepheardess.
Thou'lt give me Beds, and House, and Sheep to breed?
Daphnis.
Both House, and Beds, and the fair Flocks I feed.
Shepheardess.
What shall I to my aged Father say?
Daphnis.
He, when he hears my Name, will soon give way.
Shepheardess.
How art thou call'd? for Names do often please.
Daphnis.
Daphnis my Name, my Father's Lycides,
My Mother's Nomaea.
Shepheardess.
Of an honest Line
Thou com'st, nor we of no more mean than thine.
Daphnis.
Yet not so great to make your Pride aspire,
For, as I tak't, Menalcas is your Sire.
Shepheardess,
Shew me your Stalls, and Groves.
Daphnis.
[Page 121]Come let thine Eyes
VVitness how high my Cypress Trees do rise.
Shepheardess.
Feed Goats whilst I survay the Shepheard's Bounds.
Daphnis.
Graze Bullocks whilst I shew the Nymph my Grounds.
Shepheardess.
VVhat do'st? why thrust'st thy hand into my Brest?
Daphnis.
Thus thy soft, swelling Bosome should be prest.
Shepheardess.
Help Pan! I faint; Swain, take thy hand away.
Daphnis.
Fear not sweet Nymph; nor tremble with dismay.
Shepheardess.
'Twill spoyle my Coat should I i'th' durt be thrown.
Daphnis.
No: see! on this soft hide I'l lay thee down▪
Shepheardess.
Ah Me! why hast thou loos d my Virgin Zone?
Daphnis.
To Venus this be an Oblation.
Shepheardess.
Heark! see! some body comes; I hear a Noise.
Daphnis.
The Cypress Trees are whispering of our Joyes.
Shepheardess.
Th' hast torn my Cloaths, and me quite naked layd.
Daphnis.
I'l give thee better.
Shepheardess.
VVords no deeds e'r paid.
Daphnis.
[Page 122]Would I could send my soul into thee now!
Shepheardess.
Oh Phoebe, pardon! I have broke my Vow.
Daphnis.
A Calf to Love, a Bull to Venus burn.
Shepheardess.
A Maid I came, a Woman shall return.
Daphnis.
And be a Mother-Nurse to pretty Boyes.
Shepheardess.
Thus intertalk'd they 'mid'st the active Joyes
Of closs Embraces; when at length they rose,
And being up, to feed her Flock she goes
With blushing Face, but with a lightsome Heart,
Whilst to his Heards he no less pleas'd doth part.
On the Picture of Icarus in Wax. Marino.
VVHat once did unto thee impart
The means of Death; by happy Art
Now thee restores to life again:
Yet still remember to refrain
Ambitious Flights; nor soar too nigh
The Sun of an inflaming Eye;
For so thou may'st, scorcht by those Beams,
In Ashes dye, as once in Streams.
On a Marble Statue of Nero, which falling kill'd a Child. Marino.
THis Statue, bloudy Nero does present;
To Tyrants a sad Document.
Though Marble, on his Basis yet so fast
He stood not, but he fell at last.
And seems as when he liv'd, as cruell still,
He could not fall, but he must kill.
On Paula. Mart. l. 9. Epig. 5.
FAin shee'd have Priscus; and who blame her can?
But hee'l not have her: and who'l blame the Man?
On an Ill Husband and Wife▪ Mart. l. 8. Epigr. 34.
SInce both of you so like in Manners be,
Thou the worst Husband, and the worst Wife she,
I wonder, you no better should agree.
On Candidus, a rich Miser. Mart. l. 3. Epig. 26.
Alone thou dost enjoy a fair Estate;
Alone rare Myrrhine Vessels, golded Plate;
Alone rich Wines dost drink; and hast for None
A Heart, nor Wit but for thy self alone.
None shares with thee, it is deny'd by no man:
But Candidus, thou hast a Wife that's Common▪
On Bassus a Pittifull Poet. Mart. l. 5. Epigr. 53.
VVHy writ'st thou of Thyestes, Colchis hate,
Andromache, or Niobes sad Fate?
Deucalion (Bassus!) better far would fit,
Or Phaeton, believe me, with thy Wit.
On a Boy kill'd by the fall of an Icesicle. Mart. l. 4. Epig. 18.
VVHer streams from Vipsan Pipes Port Capen powrs,
And the Stones moystned are with constant show'rs,
A drop congeal'd to a sharp Icesicle
On a Child's Throat that stood beneath it, fell,
[Page 125]And when the Wretches Fate dissolv'd it had,
Melted away in the warm VVound it made.
VVhat may not cruell Fate? or where will not
Death find us out, if VVater Throats can cut?
On Nestor a whisperer. Mart. l. 3. Epig. 28.
THou wonder'st Marius Ears should smell so Ill:
They may thank thee; thou whisper'st in 'em still.
On Martinia, an old, old, leacherous— Mart. l. 3. Epigr. 32.
VVHat? canst thou not with an old VVoman bed
Thou criest?—yes: but thou art not old but dead.
VVe could with Hecuba, or Niobe
Make shift, but then (Martinia!) it must be Before the one
Into a Bitch be turn'd, t'other to Stone.
On Philomuse, a needy Newesmonger. Mart. l. 9. Epig. 35.
TO gain a Supper, thy shift (Philomuse!)
Is to vent lies, instead of Truths, for News:
[Page 126]Thou knowst what Pacorus intends to do,
Can'st count the German Troops and Sarmats too.
The Decia [...] General's Mandates dost profess
To know, and Victories before the Express.
How oft it rains in Aegypt, thou as well,
And Number of the Lybian Fleet, canst tell.
VVhom Victor in the next Quinquatrian Games
Caesar will crown, thy knowing Tongue proclames:
Come, leave these shifts: thou this Night (Philomuse)
Shalt sup with Me; but, not a word of News.
On Aulus a Poet-Hater. Mart. l. 8. Epig. 63.
AUlus Loves Thestius; him Alexis fires;
Perhaps he too, our Hyacinth desires;
Go now, and doubt if Poets he approves,
When the Delights of Poets Aulus Loves!
On Lentinus, being troubled with an Ague. Mart. l. 12. Epig. 17.
LEntinus! thou dost nought but sume, and fret,
To think thy Ague will not leave thee yet.
Why? it goes with thee; bathes as thou dost do,
Eats Mushromes, Oysters, Sweet-breads, wild Boar too,
Oft drunk by thee with Falern Wine is made,
Nor Caecub drinks unless with snow allay'd:
[Page 127]Tumbles in Roses dawb'd with unctuous sweets,
Sleeps upon Down between pure Cambrick sheets,
And when thus well it fares with thee, wouldst thou
Have it to go unto poor Damma now?
To Priscus. Mart. l. 8. Epigr. 11.
VVHy a rich Wife (Priscus) I will not wed,
Ask'st thou?—I would not have my Wife, my Head:
Husbands should have superiority;
So Man and Wife can only equall be.
On Phoebus that wore leather Caps. Mart. l. Epig.
VVHilst thou a Kidskin Cap putt'st on
To hide the Baldness of thy Crown,
On jested wittily▪ who [...]ed,
Phoebus, that thou hadst shod thy Head.
On Horace a poor fellow. Mart. l. 4. Epigr▪ 2.
HOrace alone, 'mongst all the Company,
In a black Gown the Plays did lately see.
Whilst both the Commons, and the Knights of Rome,
Senate, and Caesar all in white did come▪
[Page 128]When strait it snow'd apace; so he the sight
Beheld as well as all the rest, in white.
On a Swallow torn in Peeces by her Fellowes. Mart. l. 5. Epig. 67.
VVHen for their winterHomes the swallows made▪
One 'gainst the Custome in her old Nest staid.
The rest at Spring return'd, the Crime perceive,
And the offending Bird of Life bereave.
Late yet she suffer'd, she deserv'd before,
But then when she in Peeces Itys tore.
To Apollo pursuing Daphne. Auson.
THrow by thy Bow, nor let thy Shafts appear,
She flies not thee, but does thy weapons fear,
De Erotio Puella. Mart. l. 5. Epigr. 38.
SHe, (who than down of aged Swans more fair,
More soft was than Galaesian Lambkins are;
More beautious than those Shels Lucrinus shews,
Or Stones which Erythr [...]an Waves disclose;
[Page 129]Smooth as the Elephants new polish'd Tooth▪
VVhiter than Lillies in their Virgin Growth,
Or Snow new fallen; the colour of whose Tresses
Outvy'd the German Curles, or Baetick Fleeces;
VVhose Breath the Pestan Rosaries excell'd,
The hony in Hymaettian Hives distill'd,
Or chafed Ambers scent: with whom conferr'd
The Phaenix was but thought a common Bird)
She, she, in▪ this new Tomb yet warm, doth lye,
VVhom the stern hand of cruell Destiny
In her sixth year, e'r quite expir'd, snatch'd hence,
And with her all my best Joyes: yet 'gainst all sense
Paetus perswades me not to grieve for her;
Fye, saies he, (whilst his hair he seems to tear)
Art not asham'd to mourn thus for a Slave?
I have a Wife laid newly in the Grave,
Fair, rich, and noble▪ yet I live you see.
O what than Paetus can more hardy be?
No sorrow sure a heart like his can kill,
H'hath gain'd
By the Death of h [...] VVife.
ten thousand Pounds, yet he lives still.On Mancinus a Prating Braggart. Mart. l. 4. Epig. 61.
THou mad'st thy Brags that late to thee a Friend
A hundred Crowns did for a Present send:
But four days since (when with the Wits we met)
Thou saidst Pompilla too (or I forget)
Gave thee a rich Suite worth a thousand more,
(
Altered purposely▪
Scarlet of Tyre with gold embroyder'd o'r:)[Page 130]And swor'st that Madam Bassa sent thee late
Two Em'rald Rings, the Lady Caelia, Plate.
And yesterday, when at the Play we were,
At comming forth, thou told'st me in my Ear,
There fell to thee that Morning, the best part
Of Fourscore Pounds per Annum next thy Heart.
What wrong have I thy poor Friend done thee, that
Thou thus shouldst torture me? Leave, leave this Chat
For pitties sake; or if thou'lt not forbear,
Tell me then something that I'd gladly hear.
On Picens. Mart. l. 8. Epig. 62.
PIcens the Backside of his Book doth fill
With redious Epigrams; yet takes it ill
Phoebus should shew himself his Back Friend still.
On Caius, one of large Promises, but small Performances. Mart. l. 10. Epig. 16.
IF not to give, but say so, giving be,
Caius! for giving we will vie with thee.
What e'r the Spaniard in Gallician Feilds
Digs up, what the gold Stream of Tagus yields,
What the tann'd Indian dives for in the deep,
Or in its Nest th' Arabion Bird doth keep,
The wealth which Tyrian Caldrons boyl; receive
Bll this, and more; but so as thou dost give.
To Posthumus, an Ill Liver. Mart. l. 5. Epigr. 58.
STill, still thou cry'st to morrow I'l live well:
But when will this to morrow come? canst tell?
How far is't hence? or where is't to be found?
Or upon Parthian, or Armenian Ground?
Priams, or Nostors years by this 't has got;
I wonder for how much it might be bought?
Thou'lt live to morrow?—'tis too late to day:
Hee's wise who yesterday, I liv'd, can say.
To Thelesinus. Mart. l. 3. Epigr. 40.
THou think'st th' hast shewn thy self a mighty friend,
'Cause at my Sute thou fifty Pounds didst lend:
But if thou, rich, for lending, may'st be said
So great a Friend: what I, who Poor, repaid?
On Cinna a bold Suter. Mart. l. 3. Epigr. 60.
THou say▪st 'tis nothing that thou ask'st me; Why,
If thou ask'st nothing, nothing I deny.
The happy life. To Julius Martialis. Mart. l. 10. Epig. 47.
THose things which make life truly blest,
Sweetest Martial hear exprest:
Wealth left, and not from Labour growing;
A gratefull soyl, a Hearth still glowing;
No Strife, small Business, Peace of Mind,
Quick Wit, a Body well inclin'd,
Wise Innocence, Friends of one Heart,
Cheap Food, a Table without Art;
Nights which nor Cares, nor Surfets know,
No dull, yet a chaste Bedfellow;
Sleeps which the tedious Hours contract;
Be what thou mayst be, nor exact
Ought more; nor thy last Hour of breath
Fear, nor with wishes hasten Death.
Epitaphium Glaucae. Mart. l. 6. Epig. 28.
HEre Meliors Freed-man, known so well,
Who by all Rome lamented, fell,
His dearest Patrons short-liv'd Joy,
Glaucias, beneath this Stone doth lye,
Neer the Flaminian Way interr'd:
Chast, modest, whom quick Wit preferr'd
And happy Forme, who to twelve past,
Scarce one year added; that, his Last.
[Page 133]If Passenger thou weep'st for such a Loss,
Mayst thou ne'r mourn for any other Cross.
To Sextus. Mart. l. 2. Epig. 3.
YOu say y'ow nothing; and 'tis true you say;
For he ows only, who hath means to pay.
To Maximus. Mart. l. 7. Epig. 72.
TH' Esquiliae a House of thine doth show
Mount Aventine, and the Patrician Row.
Hence Cybells Fane, thence Vesta's thou dost view;
From this th' Old Jupiter, from that the New;
Where shall I meet thee? in what Quarter, tell?
He that does every where, does no where dwell.
To Stella. Mart. l. 7. Epigr. 35.
VVHen my poor Villa could not storms sustain,▪
Nor watry Jove, but swam in Flouds of Rain,
Thou sent'st me Tyles, wherewith to make a Fence
'Gainst the rude Tempests sudden violence.
We thank thee Stella: but cold Winter's near,
The Villa's coverd, not the Villager.
On Parthenopaeus. Mart. l. 11. Epig. 87.
THy Doctor, that he may asswage the Pain
Of thy sore Throat, which a sharp Cough doth strain,
Prescribes thee Hony, sweet-meats, luscious Pies,
Or what e'r else stills fretfull Childrens cries:
Yet leav'st thou not thy coughing: now we see
'Tis no sore Throat, but sweet Tooth troubles thee.
On Philaenus. Mart. l. 11. Epigr. 102.
IF how Philaenus may be stil'd
A Father, who ne'r got a Child
Thou'd'st know; Davus can tell thee it,
Who is a Poet and ne'r writ.
The Choice of his Mistris. Mart. l. Epigr.
I would not have a VVench with such a VVaste
As might be well with a Thumb-Ring embrac'd;
VVhose bony Hips, which out on both sides stick,
Might serve for Graters, and whose lean Knees prick;
One, which a saw does in her back-Bone bear,
And in her Rump below carries a Spear.
[Page 135]Nor would I have her yet of Bulk so grosse
That weigh'd should break the Scales at th' market-cross;
A meer unfathom'd lump of Grease; no, that
Like they that will; 'tis Flesh I love, not Fat.
To Sextus. Mart. l. 2. Epig. 55.
SExtus thou will'st that I should show
Thee Honour, where I love would ow;
And I obey since 'tis thy will,
By Me thou shalt be honour'd still:
But Sextus if thou'lt honour'd be,
Thou shalt not then be lov'd by Me.
On Baucis, an old drunken Crone. Antholog. Graec.
BAucis the Bane of Pots, what time she lay
Sick of a Feaver, thus to Jove did pray;
If I escape this Fit, I vow to take
These hundred Suns no drink but from the Lake:
Wanting her wonted Cups, (now past all doubt
Of Danger) she one day this shift found out,
She takes a Sive, and through the bottome pries;
So she at once a hundred Suns espies.
On Captain Ansa, a bragging Run-away. Casimire.
VVHilst timorous Ansa lead his Martial Band
'Gainst the Invaders of his Native Land,
Thus he bespake his Men before the Fight:
Courage my Mates, let's dine, for we to Night
Shall Sup (saies he) in Heaven: this having said,
'Soon as the threatning Ensigns were displaid,
And the loud Drums and Trumpets had proclam'd
Defiance 'twixt the Hoasts; he, (who ne'r sham'd
At Loss of Honour) fairly ran away,
When being ask'd, how chance he would not stay
And go along with them to sup in Heaven?
Pardon me Friends (said he) I fast this Even.
To Fuscus. Mart. l. 1. Epig. 55.
IF Fuscus thou hast room for one Friend more,
(For well I know thou every where hast store)
Let me compleat the List; nor be thought e'r
The worse 'cause New; such once thy old friends were▪
But try if he you for your New Friend take,
May happily an old Companion make.
On Marcus Anton: Primus his Picture. Mart. l. 10. Epig. 32.
THis Picture, which with Violets you see
And Roses deckt, askst thou whose it may be?
Such was Antonius in his Prime of Years,
Who here still young, though he grow old, appears.
Ah! could but Art have drawn his Mind in this,
Not all the World could shew a fairer Peece.
Horat.
SEest thou not, how Socrates Head,
(For all it's Height) stands covered
With a white Perriwigg of Snow?
Whilst the labouring Woods below
Are hardly able to sustain
The Weight of Winters feather'd Rain;
And the arrested Rivers stand
Imprison'd in an Icy Band?
Dispell the Cold; and to the Fire
Add fuell, large as it's Desire;
And from the Sabine Casque let fly
(As free as Liberality)
The Grapes rich blood, kept since the Sun
His Annuall Course foure times hath run.
Leave to the Gods the rest, who have
Allay'd the Winds, did fiercely rave
[Page 138]In Battail on the Billowy main,
Where they did blustring tug for Raign.
So that no slender Cypress now,
It's Spirelike Crown does tott'ring, bow:
Nor aged Ashtrees, with the shock
Of Blasts impetuous, doe rock.
Seek not too morrow's Fate to know;
But what day Fortune shall bestow,
Put to a discreet Usurie.
Nor (gentle youth!) so rigid be
With froward scorn to disapprove
The sweeter Blandishments of Love.
Nor mirthfull Revels shun, whilst yet
Hoary Austerity is set
Far from thy greener years; the Field
Or Cirque should now thy Pastime yield:
Now nightly at the Howre select,
And pointed Place, Loves Dialect,
Soft whispers, should repeated be;
And that kind Laughters Treacherie,
By which some Virgin closely layd
In dark Confinement, is betrayd:
And now from some soft Arm, or Wrist,
A silken Braid, or silver Twist,
Or Ring from Finger, should be gain'd,
By that too nicely not retain'd.
Ad Puellam edentulam. Mart. l. 2. Epig. 41.
SMile if th'art wise; smile still, fair Maid!
Once the Pelignian Poet said;
[Page 139]But not to all Maids spake he this,
Or spake he to all Maids I wisse,
Yet not to thee; for thou art None.
Thy bare Gums show three Teeth alone,
Scal'd o'r with black and yellow Rust:
If then thy Glasse or Me thou'lt trust,
Thou laughter shouldst no lesse abhorre,
Than rough Winds crisped Spanius, or
The neat-drest Priscus the rude Touch
Of boisterous hands, and feare as much
As Caelia does the Sun; or more
Than painted Bassa does a showre.
Looks thou shouldst wear more grave, and sad,
Than Hectors Wife, or Mother had:
Never at Comedies appear;
All festive Jollities forbear;
And what e'r else▪ doth laughter cause,
And the clos'd Lips asunder drawes.
Thou Childlesse Mothers shouldst alone,
Or Brothers haplesle Fates, bemoan:
Or follow still some mournfull Hearse,
And with sad Tragedies converse.
Then rather doe as I advise,
Weep (Galla) still, weep, if th'art wise.
Epitaph on an old drunken Crone. Ex Antipatr. Sidon.
THis Tomb Maronis holds; o'r which, doth stand
A Bowle, carv'd out of Flint, by Mentor's hand:
The tipling Crone while living, death of friends
Ne'r toucht, nor Husbands, nor dear Childrens Ends.
[Page 140]This only troubles her, now dead; to think,
The Monumentall Bowle should have no drink.
On Bibinus, a notorious Drunkard. Scaliger.
THe Sot Loserus is drunk twice a day;
Bibinus only once; now of these, say,
Which may a man the greatest Drunkard call?
Bibinus still; for hee's drunk once for All.
On poor Codrus, who though blind, was yet in Love. Mart. l. 3. Epig. 15.
NOne in all Rome, like Codrus trusts I find;
How, and so poor! he loves, and yet is blind.
FINIS.
Ausonii Ludus septem Sapientum.
The Prologue.
THe seven Wisemen, (that Name Times past apply'd
To them, nor hath Posterity deny'd)
Themselves this Day unto your view present.
Why dost thou blush Gown'd Roman? discontent
That such grave Men should on the Stage be brought!
Is't shame to us! 't was none to Athens thought:
Whose Councell-Chamber was their Theater.
True; here for Busines sev'rall Places are
Assign'd, the Cirque for Meetings, Courts to take
Enrollments, Forums in which Pleas to make:
But in old Athens, and all Greece, was known
No other Place for Busines, but this* One,
viz. the Theater▪
Which later Luxury in Rome did raise.
The Aedile heretofore did build for Playes
A Scaffold-stage, No work of Carved stone;
So Galbus and Murena did, 'tis known:
But after, when great Men not sparing Cost,
Thought it the highest Glory they could boast,
To build for Playes a Scene more eminent,
The Theater grew to this vast Extent;
[Page 144]Which Pompey, Balbus, Caesar, did inlarge;
Vying, which should exceed for State and Charge.
But to what End all this? We came not here
To tell you who first built the Theater
Or Forum, or who rais'd this Gallery;
But as the Prologue to a Comedy,
In which act Heaven-lov'd Sages; who in Verse
Their own Judicious Sentences reherse,
Known to the Learned, and perhaps to you:
But if your Mem'ries shall not well renue
Things spoke so long since; the Comedian shall,
Who better than I knows them, tell you all.
Enter Comedian.
AThenian Solon, Fame sings, wrote at Delphis
[...]; whose sense, Know thy self, is.
But this for Spartan Chilons many take.
Whether this Chilons be, some question make,
[...]: Is't hard?
Wee'l english't▪ Th' End of a long Life regard.
But this (say some) to Craesus Solon sung.
From Lesbian Pittacus this Motto sprung,
[...]; that's Know-Time: But He
By [...] here means Opportunitie.
[...], Bias, did proceed
From thee; that is, Most Men are Ill. Take heed
You not mistake him; for by Ill Men here
He means the Ignorant: the next you hear
Is Periander's [...];
That is, Thought's All in All; a Thought-full Man!
But Lyndian Cleobulus does protest
[...]; Mean in All is best.
Upon a Surety present Damage lies.
But this, 'fore those who gain by it, to tell,
May 'chance displease: Now Solon comes, farwell.
Exit.
Enter Solon.
LOe! on the Roman Stage is Solon come,
Clad in his Graecian Ornaments: To whom
Fame gave the Prize of Wisdome from the rest;
But Fame is not of Censure the strict Test.
Nor first nor last I take my self to be,
For there's no Order in Equalitie.
Well did the Delphick Prophet sport with him
Who ask'd, which first of the VVise-men might seem,
Saying; if on a Globe their Names he writ,
None first, or lowest he should find in it.
From midd'st of that learn'd Round come I; that so,
VVhat once I spake to Craesus, All here now
Might take as spoken to themselves; 'Tis this:
[...]; which is
In English, Mark of a long life the End;
'Till then your Censure of All Men suspend:
Nor Miserable These, nor happy Those
Esteem; for None are such till their last Close.
The Ground of this wee'l in few Words display.
Craesus, the Tyrant King of Lydia,
Happy, and rich even to Excesse! (who wall'd
The Temples of his Gods with pure Gold) call'd
Me from my Country to him: We obey
His Royall Summons, went to Lydia,
Willing his Subjects by our means might find
Their King improv'd, and better'd in his Mind.
[Page 146]He asks Me whom I thought the happiest Man?
I said Telana the Athenian,
Who his life nobly for his Country gave;
He pishes at it, will another have.
I told him then Aglaus who the Bounds
Ne'r past in all his life of his own grounds;
Smiling, he sayes, what think you then of Me?
Esteem'd the happyest in the whole World? We
Reply'd, his End could only make that known.
He takes this Ill: I, willing to be gon,
Kisse his hand, and so leave him: For some Ends
Meantime, 'gainst Persia he a War intends;
And all Things ready, does in Person goe.
How speeds? hee's vanquish'd, Prisoner to his foe,
And ready now to yeeld his latest Breath,
(For by the Victor he was doom'd to death)
Upon the Funerall Pile rounded with Flames
And smoak, he thus with a loud voice exclames.
O Solon! Solon! now I plainly see
Th'art a true Prophet! thrice thus naming Me.
Mov'd with which words, Cyrus, (the Conquerour)
Commands the Fire be quencht, which, by a showre
Of Rain then falling, happily was layd.
Thence to the King by a choice Guard convay'd,
And question'd who that Solon was? and why
He call'd so on his Name? He, for Reply,
In Order all declares: Pitty at this
The Heart of Cyrus moves; and Craesus is
Receiv'd to grace, who in a Princely Port
Liv'd after, honour'd in the Persian Court.
Both Kings approv'd, and prais'd Me; but what I
Said then to one, let each Man here apply
As spoke t'himself; 'twas for that end I came.
Farewell: your liking let your hands proclame.
Exit Solon.
Enter Chilon.
MY Hips with sitting, Eyes with seeing ake,
Expecting when Solon an End would make.
How little, and how long you Atticks prate!
Scarce in three hundred Lines one word of Weight,
Or a grave Sentence! how he lookt on me
At going off?—Now Spartan Chilon see!
Who with Laconian Brevity commends
To you the Knowledge of your selves, kind Frends!
[...], carv'd in Delphos Fane.
'Tis a hard Work, but recompenc'd with Gain.
Try your own strength; examine what 'tis you
Have done already, what you ought to doe,
All Duties of our Life, as Modestie,
Honour, and Constancie, included be
In this; and Glory th' Idoll of these dayes.
I've said: Farewell: I stay not for your Praise.
Exit
Enter Cleobulus.
I Cleobulus, though my Native Seat
Be a small Isle, am Author of a great
And glorious Sentence; [...];
A Mean is best: You Sirs that sit upon
The fourteen middle Benches next unto
Th' Orchestra, best may judge if this be true.
Your Nodd shows your As [...]ent: We thank you; but
We shall proceed in Order: Was it not
Your Afer, (though a Man he of late Time is)
That said once in this Place, Ut ne quid Nimis?
[Page 148]And hither does our [...] aime.
The Dorick and the Latine mean the same.
In speaking, being silent, or in sleep,
In good Turns, or in bad, a mean still keep.
In study, Labour, or what else so e'r.
I've said: and that a Mean I keep, end here.
Exit▪
Enter Thales.
I'm Thales, who maintain (as Pindar sings)
VVater to be th' originall of Things,
*
[...]me Ver [...] because [...]erfect in Original, [...]red.
And on the Stage (as those before) am comeT' assert the Truth of my own Axiom.
Perhaps by some 't may be offensive thought:
But not by those by sad experience taught.
[...], say we,
Be Surety, and be sure a loser be.
A thousand Instances I could produce
To prove Repentance is the only use
That can be made of it, but that We here
Examples by their Names to cite, forbear.
Make your own Application, and conceive
The Damage, Men by this sole Act receive.
Nor this our good Intention take amiss.
You that like, clap, you that dislike it, hiss.
Exit.
Enter Bias.
I Am Priaenean Bias, who once taught
[...], That most men are naught.
[Page 149]I wish t' had been unspoke; for Truth gains Hate.
But by bad Men, I meant Illitterate,
And those who barbarously all Laws confound,
Religion, Justice; for within this Round
I see none but are good: believe all those
Whom I proclame for bad amongst your Foes:
Yet there is none so partially apply'd
To favour Vice but with the good will side:
VVhether he truly be such, or would fain
Of a good man the Reputation gain:
The hated name of an ill Man, there's none
But flies: if y'are all good, your praise: I'm gone.
Exit.
Enter Pittacus.
I'm Pittacus, who once this Maxime penn'd,
[...], That's Time apprehend.
But by Time we meant Time in Season, as,
Intempore veni is your Roman Phrase.
And your own Comick Poet Terence, he,
Chief of all things makes opportunity,
Where Dromo comes unto Antiphila
I'th' nick of Time: consider what I say,
And mark how many Inconvenience
Sustain, for want of this sole Providence!
But now 'tis more than Time we should be gone;
Farewell: and give your Approbation.
Exit.
Enter Periander.
NOw on the Stage see Periander move!
He who once said, and what he said will prove
[...]. Thought is all in all.
Since him a perfect Agent we may call
Who first considers what he undergoes;
For we should still forecast, as Terence shows,
Th' Event of Business, whether good, or bad,
E'r w'undertake it: where may best be had
Conveniency for Planting, where to build,
When to wage War, and where to pitch a Field:
Nor unconsiderately take in hand
Or great or small Things; for that makes a stand
In the free Progress of all new designs;
In which, there's nothing Policy injoyns
Like Consultation; hence it is that they
Who use it not, Chance does, not Counsell, sway.
But I retire; whilst you with better Fate
Imploy your Thoughts how to uphold your State.
The Sentences of those seven Sages, comprehended in as many Septenaries.
Bias Prieneus:
VVHat's Man's chief good? a Mind that right doth know.
What's his chief Ill? Man, his own greatest Foe.
Who's rich? he who's contented. Who poor? He
Who Covets. A Wives best Dowr? Chastity.
What VVoman's chaste? whom Fame dares not belie.
[Page 151]VVho's the VVise man? who can, but doth no Ill.
The Fool? He who cannot, yet hath the VVill.
Pittacus Mitylenaeus.
NOne knows to speak, who knows not to refrain.
'Fore many bad, one good Man's Praise retain.
He's mad who envies others happiness.
So ▪she who joys in other Mens distress.
The Laws thou dost impose, thy self obey.
VVhen Times are prosperous store of Friends provide:
VVhen they are bad, but in a few confide.
Cleobulus Lindius.
THe more thou canst, 'less wish to do. The spite
Of Fortune oft doth on the guiltless light.
None long is happy in Impiety.
In others much, nought in thy self pass by.
The good Man's Friend is still the bad Man's Foe.
Our Father's merits want of their due Fame.
And oft our Childrens Portion is but shame.
Beriander Corinthius.
DEcent and Profitable ne'r dissent.
The happier Man still the more Provident.
'Tis ill to wish, 'tis worse to fear Death, we
Should make a Virtue of Necessity.
He who is fear'd by many, many feares.
VVhen Fortune's kind, dread thy advanced height:
And scorn to sink yet when she shows her spight.
Solon Atheniensis.
LIfe then is happy, when 'tis consummate.
VVed with thy like; Disparity breeds hate.
Confer not Honours casually. A friend
Convince in private, publikely commend.
'Tis more to be, than be made Noble far.
If Fates decrees are sure, in vain We fly them;
If they are not, in vain We fear to try them.
Chilo Lacedaemonius.
FEard by Inferious, nor by betters scorn'd
Let me not live. Oft of thy Death be warn'd,
And Health: Misfortunes, by thy own, defeat,
Or friends Advice. The good thou dost, forget,
But that which thou receiv'st, remember still.
Age that resembles Youth doth gratefull come.
Youth that resembles Age is burdensome.
Thales Milesius.
ABout to sin, thy self, though none else, fear.
Life dies: the glory of a good Death, ne'r.
What thou intend'st to do, forbear to tell.
To fear what thou canst not o'rcome's a Hell.
A just Reproof does good though from a Foe:
But a false Praise does harm, though from a Friend.
Nilnimium satis est bids us here end.
Amphion, or a City well ordered. Casimer.
FOrraign Customes from your Land,
Thebans by fair Laws command:
And your good old Rites make known
Unto your own.
Piety your Temples grace;
Justice in your Courts have Place:
Truth, Peace, Love, in every Street
Each other meet.
Banish Vice, Walls guard not Crimes.
Vengeance o'r tall Bulwarks climbs:
O'r each Sin, A Nemesis
Still waking is,
Truth resembling craft, Profane
Thirst of Empire, and of Gain,
Luxury▪ and idle ease,
Banish all these.
Private Parsimony fill
The Publike Purse: Arms only Steel
Know, and no more: Valour fights cold
In plunder'd Gold.
VVar, or Peace do you approve,
VVith united Forces move:
Courts which many Collumes rear
Their falls less fear.
Safer Course those Pilots run
VVho observe more Stars than One.
Ships with double Anchors ty'd Securer ride.
Strength united firm doth stand
Knit in an eternall Band:
But proud Subjects private hate Ruins a State.
This as good Amphion sings
To his Harps well-tuned strings,
It's swift Streams clear Dirce stopt, Cytheron hopt,
Stones did leap about the Plains,
Rocks did skip to hear his Strains,
And the Groves the Hills did crown Came dancing down.
VVhen he ceas'd, the Rocks and VVood
Like a VVall about him stood;
VVhence fair Thebes, which seven Gates close Of Brass, arose.
Vertue improv'd by suffering.
'TIs but the Body that blind Fortunes spight
Can chain to Earth; the nobler Soul doth slight
Her servill Bonds, and takes to Heaven her flight.
So through dark clouds Heaven lightens (whilst the shade
Is as a foyl to its bright splendour made)
And Stars with greater Lustre Night invade.
So sparkle Flints when strook; so Metals find
Hardness from hammering, and the closer bind:
So Flames increase the more supprest by VVind.
And as the Grindstone to unpolish'd Steel
Gives Edge, and Lustre: so my Mind, I feel
VVhetted, and glaz▪d by Fortunes turning VVheel.
To Mr Stanley, on his unimitable Poems.
THe Stagirite, who Poesie defines
An Imitation, had he read thy Lines,
And thy rich Fancy known, he would have then
Recall▪d the learned Error of his Pen,
And have confest, in his convicted State,
Nought those could equall, this would imitate;
VVhich from no forraign Supplement doth spring,
Nor any Stand, but its own Height, take VVing▪
And but that We should seem so to misprise
The Influence of Chariessa's Eyes,
VVe should not think Love did these Flames inspire,
Rather, that thou taught'st Love this noble Fire:
And, by a generous VVay thy hopes t'improve,
Shew'dst her before thou didst, how thou could'st love;
And the old, common Method didst invert,
First made her Mistris of thy Brain, then Heart,
Some Phantisies growth may from their Subjects take,
Thine doth not Subjects find, but subjects make;
VVhose numerous strains we vainly strive to praise
'Less We could ours, high as thy Phant'sie, raise.
[Page 156]Large Praise we might give some, with small Expence
Of Wit, cry Excellent! how praise Excellence?
The Painters Fate is ours, his hand may grace,
Or take a bad, scarse hit a beauteous Face.
Nor can our Art a sitting value sit
Upon thy noble Courtesie of Wit;
Which to so many Toungs doth lend that store
Of pleasing sweetnes which they lack'd before.
Th' Iberian, Roman, and the fluent Greek;
The nimble French, and the smooth Thuscan, seek
For severall Graces from thy Pen alone,
Which that affoords to all these Toungs, in One.
Whose forraign Wealth transferr'd, improv'd by thine,
Doth with a fair Increase of Lustre shine
Like Gems new set upon some richer Foyle,
Or Roses planted in a better Soyle.
If 'bove all Lawrels then thy Merits rise,
What can this Sprig (which while 'tis offer'd, dies)
Add to the Wreath that does adorn thy Brows?
No Bayes will snit with that but thy own Bowghs.
On his Translation of Oronta.
FLames rescu'd fair Oronta from the Pow'r
Of an insulting Thracian Conquerour.
The Fame of which brave Action, Preti's Rime
Freed from the greater Tyranny of Time:
Yet in that Freedome she lesse glories, then
In being thus made Captive by thy Pen.
To Mr James Shirley, on his Way of Grammer explained in English Verse.
GRammer, which taught the Poet first to write,
Is by the Poet now taught to delight;
And Poesy, which once unto the School
Ow'd it's Instructions, now, to that's a Rule.
Thy gratefull Pen, to Science does impart
Civility, and requites Art, with Art.
Yet not like some, who think they hardly shou'd
Be thought to understand, if understood,
Do'st thou the Minds of weaker Tiro's vex,
Or, as perplex'd with th' Art, the Art perplex;
But what e're seem'd therein obscure, mak'st clear,
Brief, what prolix, smooth what did rough appear;
That so the Art to Learners now is seen
As in a Flat▪ which Hill, and Wood did skreen.
How should they erre their Journey's end in view,
Their Way so pleasing, and their Guide so true!
Rest then secure of Fame; nor think thy Worth
Can by a private Hand be well set forth.
Attempts, which to the Publick Profit raise,
Expect, nor merit lesse than Publick Praise.
In Idem, ad Eundem.
SHirleie, Angliacum cui olim celeberime vatum!
Drama Labor Nomenque fuit; tibi nunc novus ecquis
Surgit Hones? qualisve al [...]o subit Infula nexu
Tempora?—Nunc video: Magnos accinctus in usus,
Carmine facundo tract as Praecepta severae
Grammatices, Latiaeque canis Primordia linguae;
Ut meliùs teneros blandâ dulcedine captos
Afficeres animos, & dura Element a colenti,
At que rudi nimium, Eloquio, placitura Juventae
Efficeres: Labor, en multum meriturus honestae
Laudis! non aliter (tua sed magè mellea Lingua)
Tentavit Nestor juvenilia fingere Corda,
Heroum tener as tam grato Carmine Mentes
Thessalici haud rexit Moderator semifer Antri.
Grammatica exultet; vibretque Heliconia Ser [...]a,
Laude novâ florens: dulci nunc munere fandi
Provocet & Musas: Decus hoc Shirleie dedisti.
FINIS.
To the Eternall WISEDOME: Vpon the Distraction of the Times.
O Thou Eternall Mind! whose VVisedome sees,
And rules our Changes by unchang'd Decrees,
As with Delight on thy grave Works We look,
Say; art thou too with our light Follies took?
For when thy bounteous Hand, in liberall Showres
Each where diffus'd, thy various Blessings powres;
VVe catch at them with strife as vain to sight,
As Children, when for Nuts they scrambling, fight.
This snatching at a Scepter breaks it; He,
That broken does e're he can graspe it, see.
The poor World seeming like a Ball, that lights
Betwixt the hands of Pow'rfull Opposites:
VVhich while they cantonize in their bold Pride,
They but an Immateriall Point divide.
O whilst for VVealthy Spoyles these fight, let Me,
Though poor, enjoy a happy Peace with Thee.
Draw Me, and I will follow Thee.
THrough devious Paths without thee, Lord! I run,
And soon, without Thee, will my Race be done.
Happy was Magdalen, who like a Bride,
Her self to Thee by her fair Tresses ty'd.
So she thy Presence never did decline,
Thou her dear Captive wert, and she was Thine.
Behold another Magdalen in Me!
Then stay with Me, or draw me after Thee.
If a Man should give all the substance of his House for Love, he would value it as nothing, Cant. 8.
LOve I'd of Heaven have bought; when He, (this who
VVould think?) both Purchase was, and Seller too.
I offer'd Gold; but Gold he did not prize.
I offer'd Gems; but Gems he did despise.
I offer'd All; All he refus'd yet: why,
If All wo'nt take, take what is left, said I.
At this he smil'd, and said; in vain divine
Love's Price thou beat'st; give nothing and shee's thine.
And they laid him in a Manger.
HAppy Cribb! that wert alone
To my God, Bed, Cradle, Throne,
VVhilst thy glorious vilenesse, I
View with divine Phant'sies Eye;
[Page 163]Sordid filth seems all the Cost,
State, and Splendour, Crowns doe boast.
See! Heaven's sacred Majesty
Humbled beneath Poverty.
Swadled up in homely Rags,
On a Bed of Straw and Flags.
He whose Hands the Heavens displayd,
And the VVorlds Foundations layd,
From the VVorld's almost exil'd,
Of all Ornaments despoyl'd.
Perfumes bath him not, new born,
Persian Mantles not adorn:
Nor do the rich Roofs look bright
VVith the Jaspers Orient Light.
VVhere O Royall Infant! be
Th' Ensigns of thy Majestie?
Thy Sires equallizing State,
And thy Scepter that rules Fate?
VVhere's thy Angell-guarded Throne,
VVhence thy Laws thou didst make known?
Laws which Heaven, Earth, Hell obay'd;
These, ah these, aside he layd;
VVould the Emblem be, of Pride
By Humility outvy'd.
On the Innocents slain by Herod.
GO blessed Innocents! and freely powre
Your Souls forth in a Purple showre.
And for that little Earth each shall lay down
Purchase a Heavenly Crown.
Nor of Originall Pollution feare
The Stains should to your blouds adhere;
For yours now shed, e're long shall in a Floud
Be wash'd of better Bloud.
Christo Smarrito.
SIghing, her sad Heart fraught with Fears,
Whilst from her Eyes gush streams of Tears,
Seeking again how to retrive
Her little wandring Fugitive,
Each where with weary Steps doth rove,
The Virgin Mother of lost Love.
Like a sad Turtle, up and down
She mourning runs through all the Town:
With searching Eyes she pries about
In every Creek; within, without.
Sticks at each Place, looks o're and ore;
Searches, where she had search'd before:
Old Joseph following with sad Face,
A heavy Heart, and halting Pace.
Thrice had the Day been born i'th' East,
As oft been buried in the West,
Since the Dear Comfort of her Eyes
She miss't; yet still her Search she plyes.
Each where she seeks with anxious Care
To find him out, yet knows not where.
When the third Morn she saw arose,
And yet no Beam of Hope disclose;
Looking to Heaven, in these sad Words
She vent to her full Grief affords.
O my dear God! Son of my Wombe!
My Joy, my Love, my Life, for whom
[Page 165]These Tears I shed, on thee I call,
But oh! thou answer'st not at all.
For thee I search, but cannot find thee:
Say (Dear!) what new Embraces bind thee?
What Heart, enamour'd on thy Eyes,
Enjoyes what Heaven to Me denies?
Daughters of Sion! you which stray
With nimble feet upon the Way,
I beg of you, (if you can tell,)
To shew we where my Love doth dwell:
Whose Beauty with Celestiall Rayes,
The Light of Paradise displayes.
Perhaps to you he is unknown;
Ah! if you wish to hear him shown,
I'l tell y' him: Snow her whiteness, seeks,
Vermilion, Blushes, from his Cheeks:
His Eye a light more chaste discloses
Then amorous Doves, his Lips then Roses.
Amber, and Gold shine in his Hair
(If Gold, or Amber may compare
With that,) a Beauty so Divine,
No Tongue, Pen, Fant'sie can design.
Why break'st thou not (my Soul) this Chain
Of Flesh? why lett'st thou that restrain
Thy nimble Flight into his Arms,
VVhose only Look with gladness charms?
But (alas!) in vain I speak to thee
Poor Soul! already fled from Me;
To seek out him in whose lov'd Brest,
Thy Life, as mine in thee, doth rest.
Blest Virgin! who in Tears half drown'd,
Griev'st that thy Son cannot be found.
The time will come when Men shall hear thee
Complain that he is too too near thee.
[Page 166]When in the midd'st of hostile Bands
With pierced Feet, and nailed Hands
Advanc'd upon a cursed Tree
His naked Body thou shalt see
As void of Coverture, as Friends,
But what kind Heaven in pitty lends,
Thy Soul will then abhor the Light,
And think no Grief worse than his Sight.
But loe, as thus she search'd, and wept,
By chance she to the Temple stept,
Where her dear Son with joyfull Eyes
Set 'mongst the Rabbins she espies.
And as the Light of some kind Star
To a distressed Marriner,
So his dear sight to her appears,
Tost in this Tempest of her Fears.
But O what tongue can now impart
The joy of her revived Heart?
The Welcome, spoke in mutuall Blisses
Of sweet Embraces, sweeter Kisses!
Muse, since too high for thy weak Wing
It is, contemplate what thou canst not sing.
Christus Mathaeum & discipulos alloquitur.
LEave, leave converted Publican! lay down
That sinfull Trash; which in thy happier Race
To gain a Heavenly Crown
Clogs thy free Pace.
O what for this pale durt will not Man do!
Nay even now, 'mongst you
(For this) there's One I see,
Seeks to sell Me.
[Page 167]But Times will come hereafter, when for Gold,
I shall by more (alas) than One, be sold.
Conscience.
INternall Cerberus! whose griping fangs
That gnaw the Soul are the Minds secret Pangs:
Thou greedy Vulture! that dost gorging Tire
On Hearts corrupted by impure desire.
Subtle, and buzzing Hornet! that dost ring
A Peal of Horrour, e'r thou giv'st the sting.
The Souls rough File that smoothness does impart!
The Hammer that does break a stony Heart!
The Worm that never dies! the Thorn within,
That pricks, and pains: the whip, and scourge of sin!
The voice of God in Man! which, without rest
Doth softly cry within a troubled Breast;
To all Temptations is that Soul left free,
That makes not to it self a Curb of Me.
And she washed his Feet with her Teares, and wiped them with the Hairs of her Head.
THe proud Aegyptian Queen, her Roman Guest,
(T'express her Love in Hight of State, and Pleasure)
With Pearl dissolv'd in Gold, did feast,
Both Food, and Treasure.
And now (dear Lord!) thy Lover, on the fair
And silver Tables of thy Feet, behold!
Pearl in her Tears, and in her Hair,
Offers thee Gold.
Good Fryday.
THis Day eternall Love, for me
Fast nail'd unto a cursed Tree;
Rending his fleshly Veyl, did through his side
A way to Paradise provide.
This Day Life dy'd; and dying, overthrew
Death, Sin, and Satan too:
O happy day!
May sinners say:
But Day can it be said to be,
Wherein We see
The bright Sun of celestiall Light
O'rshadow'd with so black a Night?
Mary Magdalen weeping under the Cross.
I Thirst, my dear, and dying Saviour cryes:
These Hills are dry: O drink then from my Eyes.
On the Receiving of the blessed Sacrament.
THen Nourishment our Naturall Food imparts,
When that into our Flesh, and Blood converts:
But at this heavenly Banquet, I
Then find of strength a spirituall supply,
When (as by Faith the sacred Food I eat)
My Soul converts into the Meat.
The Message.
DEar Saviour! that my Love I might make known
To thee, I sent more Messengers than one.
My heart went first, but came not back; My Will
I sent thee next, and that staid with thee still.
Then, that the better thou might'st know my Mind,
I sent my Int'lect; that too staies behind.
Now my Soul's sent: Lord! if that stay with thee,
O what a happy Carkass shall I be!
The Fountain.
STranger, who e'r thou art, that stoop'st to taste
These sweeter streams, let me arrest thy haste;
Nor of their fall
The Murmurs, (though the Lyre
Less sweet be) stand t' admire:
But as you shall
See from this Marble Tun
The liquid Christall run;
And mark withall,
How fixt the one abides,
How fast the other glides;
Instructed thus the Difference learn to see,
'Twixt Mortall Life, and Immortality.
FINIS.
Errata.
Page 32. l. 5. read Yet I in Steel. p. 36. l. 9. for guid'st read guild'st.
NOBILISSIMO AMICISSIMO CANDIDISSIMOQUE PECTORI [...]HOMAE STANLEIO ARMIGERO▪ [...] PRAESTANTISSmo
QUO NULLUS MIHI CARIOR MEORUM [...]UEM PLURIS FACIUNT NOVEM SORORE▪ QUAM CUNCTOS ALIOS;
HAEC QVALIACVNQVE, NON TAM MATERIE VARIA, QUAM MACULIS VARIEGATA
POEMATA, (MAXIMAE INTIMAEQVE, HEV MINIMVM AMICITIAE PIGNUS!)
DICATA, DEDICATA VOLUI EDWARDƲS SHERBƲRNE.
EROTICA.
Vpon COLUTHUS.
NOt unlike that of Callimachus in Hymno ad D [...]lium ‘ [...]—’
These Nymphs were frequently invoked by the Poets, and by others (anciently) adored; sometimes by the Jews: For upon that passage Deutero. 32. (they have sacrificed to Schedim, which our English Translation with the Septuagint renders Devils) I find that the Rabbins understand by Schedim, Spirits haunting Rivers, or Water-Nymphs. Of these there were divers, as the [...] of all Waters in generall, the [...] of standing Lakes or Pooles, the [...] of Fountaines, the [...] of Rivers, and the [...] of Marishes; held yet to be Mortall by the Poets, in regard they beleeved that all moisture (of which they were thought to consist as composed of a mean nature between Men and Heroes according to Platonick Philosophy) should be one day consumed by fire, in the last generall Conflagration.
Xanthus was the most celebrated River of Troas, descending from Mount Ida.
[Page 60]The first Name being given it, for that it's Water turn'd the Fleeces of such Sheep as drunk therof yellow; as Aristotle (in tertio Animal.) hath recorded; taking the last from Scamander, who therein drowned himselfe. There is another River likewise of the same name in Lycia, of which Homer (Iliad. 16.) and Callimachus (in hymno in Del) make mention▪ and a third in Baeotia so called, of which Plutarch. (in quaestion. graecan. quaest. 41.)
Your sacred Armelets] What our Author meanes by [...] I cannot undertake to determine; yet, if not somthing of Ornament, as Armelets or the like, according to our Version (which seems not unsuitably to answer to [...]) perhaps the works of their hands, such as were Venus her Silver Mirror,Philostrat. [...] rich Pantaphles and Bracelets, which Philostratus affirms to have been made and offered by the Nymphs.
Or (which may perhaps be thought more genuine) some Musicall Instruments, Cymbals or the like.
[...] (though elsewhere a simple Periphrasis) is here meant in opposition to the proper acception of [...] below, at verse 15.
The Poets fabled that Peleus, the sonne of Aeacus, and pupill of Chiron, married Thetis the daughter of Nereus in the Mountain Pelion, and that all the Gods did him the honour to grace his Nuptials with their Presence; The [Page 61] ground of which Fiction the Scholiast of Aristophanes, (in Nubibus) hath after this manner discovered: So indulgent was Chiron to his Pupill Peleus, that he studied by all possible meanes to advance the Honour of his Name. He therefore endeavoured, and at last concluded a Match bet wixt him and Philomela the Daughter of Actor the Myrmidon, a Lady of incomparable Beauty, but gave it out that she was Thetis, whom by Joves consent, Peleus was shortly to marry, and that all the Gods would descend to his Wedding in showers of Rain: Whereupon, having made choice of a Time which by his conjecture (as he was notably well verst that way) was like to prove very showry, he appoints the Consummation of the intended Nuptials; and the season proving as he expected, the Rumor was verily beleev'd by the ignorant vulgar, and increast in succeeding Times by the Fictions of the Poets. From whence we may likewise collect this further Morall: Thetis (by Mythologists) is taken for the Water, married by Jupiter, i. e. fire or the Calor Naturalis, to Peleus or Earth, whence is produc'd Mankind [...] Aristoph.) All the Gods come to the Wedding, because every Part of the Body is attributed to some particular Deity (as the Head to Jupiter, Eyes to Minerva, Armes to Juno. &c.) except Eris or Contention; because the VVork it self subsists by Harmony and Agreement, Fulgent.
This with some of the following Verses, seems to be abstracted out of that of Euripides (in Choro Iphig. in Aul.)
Which we thus Parahhraze:
Though this Fable hath been already fufficiently explained by us; yet (for variety sake) take this further Explication of it out of Dictys Cretensis (de Bello Trojano c. 6.) Ea tempestate (speaking of the Nuptials of Peleus and Thetis) multi undique Reges aviti, domum Chironis, filiam ipsas Epulas laudibus veluti deam celebraverant, Parentem ejus Chirona, appellantes Nerea, ipsámque Nereidam: Et ut quisque eorum Regum qui Convivio interfuerant, Choro modulisque Carminum praevaluerat, ita Apollinem, Liberumque; ex foeminis, Plurimas, Musas cognominaverunt; unde ad id tempus Convivium illud Deorum appellatur. Where, we see Thetis is made the Daughter of Chiron, and not of Nereus, and so consequently not the Sister to Amphitrite: And of this opinion likewise is Tzetzes, Chiliad.
But no marvell if these Fables, which for the most part contradict Truth, do sometimes crosse one another: which to go about to reconcile, were to twist ropes of sand.
‘Phoebus from the Heliconian Spring.]’ Contradicted▪ yet with what follows (at Ver.) by Catullus in Nuptiis Pelei.
So we render— [...], Dissenting from Vulcanius (in Del. Callimach.) who makes [...] here to bear the same sense as [...], and this place agreeable to that of Callimachus,— [...].
‘Harmonia's mother Venus.]’ Harmonia was the Daughter of Venus by Mars: so Hesiod. in Theogonia.
Of which the Scholiast renders this reason; [...], &c. In regard that the breaches and ruines which were made in Cities by the assaults of Mars, are repaired again by a peaceable Commerce, and amicable Association. Or (according to others) in that Musick not only delights the Mind, but inflames the Heart with courage and resolution: and therefore there is hardly any People that use not some kinde of Musick or other to provoke them to Battell.
Suada, by the Greeks call'd [...], was the Goddesse of Perswasion, whom Theseus (as Pausanias in Atti [...] [Page 65] witnesses) first caus'd to be honour'd with divine Rites amongst the Athenians. She is here said to compose the Wedding garland for Thetis. Juno likewise (in 4. Apollonii) confesses that at this Wedding she playd the Torch-bearer; for so courteous did the antient Poets use to make their Deities at the Marriages of Eminent Personages, of which Statius (in Epithalam. Stell. & Violantill.) affords us not an unelegant Example.
Then speaking of the Bride-goom.
[Page 66]Nor unaptly, in my Opinion, does our Author here make the Goddesse Suada to bear Cupids Quiver, since nothing in Love is more forcive then perswasive Courtship.
‘But thence unhonour'd Eris was debarr'd.]’ The reason we have already given: We shall only add, that Eris or Contention was the daughter of Night, so Hesiod (in Theogonia) tells us.
The Poets fabled that there were two Erises, one the Goddesse of noble Contentions, in which those that strove, (the vanquished aswell as Victor) came off with great glory: The other the Goddesse of base, and pernicious Contentions, which rendred those that were ingaged therein still more infamous. See Erasm. Chil. 2. Centur. 6. Adag. 24.
Suiting with that Simile in 1 Apollonii, where Hercules is described running madly in quest of his lost Hylas.
Where the Oestrum (though generally by the Latine Poets, our Author here, Aeschilus in these verses;
and the greeke Glossaries it be usually taken for one and the same thing) seemes yet to be dstinguished by Apollonius from the [...]. So is it by Sostratus (in 4. Animalium) cited by his Scholiast, where hee writes, ( [...].) That the [...] or Tabanus is bred in the woods, the Oestrum in Rivers. Aristotle speakes alwayes distinctly of them; though in the Metaphor they agree, taken for any high passion or fury. Suidas; [...] Festus; Oestrum furor Graeco vocabulo: Most frequently applyed to Love, Aristaenetus (lib. 2. c. 17.) of a woman possess'd with that passion, [...]. And our Author at Verse ()
Musaeus, ‘— [...].’
Nonnus,‘— [...].’
The common opinion was, that fire was naturally inherent in the flint.
Sophocles in Philoctet.
Excellently express'd by Virgil, l. 6.
In the same sense Arnobius (llb. 2.) saith, Matrem Deam quae in saxo inani & informi colebatur, habitasse in cilicis fragment is in venis ejus abstrusam. Isidorus Pelusiota, l. 2. Epistol. 100. [...]. i. e. That fire which is the sountain of all Arts, not onely from Iron, Brass, and stone, but from Water also, and Wood doth naturally break forth: explain therefore this wonder to me: Is it inherent in the Wood? how chance then it doth not consume it? Is it not inherent in the Wood? how hath it from thence its birth?
The Titans were the issue of the earth, which she is said to have produced against Saturns, (as the Giants afterward against Jupiter) to revenge the injurie the Gods had offered her; whence Servius (in 6. Aeneid) conceives their name to be derived, [...], (i. e. ab ultione.) These were struck down to hell by the conquering Gods, and overwhelmed with perpetual night, all but Sol, who for his fidelity merited so eminent a place in Heaven.
But this place seems to savor of the Adage [...] [Page 62] (i. e. Titanas invocas) which is usually taken up, ubi quis suis diffisus viribus alienum implorat Auxilium. Erasm. chiliad 2. centur. 4. Adag. 47.
The Scholiast upon that of Aristophanes, ( [...], hit with an apple by a wench) saith, that the apple is the Symbole of Love, and dedicated to Venus, so called by Arabius Scholasticus in an Epigram upon Atalanta. [...], hence it is that Philostratus brings in the Cupids gathering Apples: and that Apples were used for presents amongst Lovers Catullus testifies
See the story of Acontius and Cydippe, and that elegant description of the marriage of Theophilus the Greek Emperor with Theodora, by Cantacuzenus, and by Theodosius Melittus. Hither refer we that which Theocritus calls [...], Virgil, Malo petere, Allurements of love, Chariclea in Lucian sends to Dinias [...], Garlands half withered, and some Apples here and there bitten. Aristaenetus, [...]. i. e. but Pamphilus biting a piece of Apple, cast it directly into [...] bosom. She with a kiss receives it, and puts it up closely between her brests, and her stomacher. Philo allegorizeth the Apple of which Eve tasted and gave to Adam, much to this effect.
‘Knowst thou not Paris.]’ Lucian (in dialog. [Page 70] [...]. Which our Author hath verbatim exprest in Jupiters speech, and therefore will not need our further version.
An eminent part of beauty: Aristaenetus, [...].
Petron. Supercilia usque ad malorum scripturam, & rursus confinis Lumine pene permixtam; Anacreon describing his Mistris to the Painter,
Consonant to the description our Author here makes, is that in Silius Italicus, upon the same subject.
By the Scepter and Spear she implies commands Military and Civil: yet either includes both: Hasta (saith Festus) olim summum armorum Imperium significabat. Justin. l. 34. per ea adhuc tempora Reges Hastas pro Diademate habebant quas Graeci [...] dixêre. Nam & ab origine rerum pro diis immortalibus veteres Hastas coluêre, ob cujus religionis memoriam, adhuc deorum simulachris Hastae adduntur. In those daies Spears were born by Kings instead of Diadems, which the Greeks call'd Scepters: for the antients at first worshipped a Spear for a God; in the memorial of which, the Statues of the Gods were pourtraid with Spears.
In this sense Euripides useth [...]; so la Cerda interprets puram hastam in Virgil. The Spear afterwards was changed (as the times altered) into a staff; by the giving or taking away of which, the authority was conferr'd, or resumed (as before to Souldiers by the Spear.) Continued to this age. I may observe by the way, That Kings of old had birds carved on their Scepters: Aristophanes in Avibus.
And presently after,
Which seems to be taken from that hint Callimachus gives in Palladis Lavacro, where (speaking of Pallas) he writes,
Claudian,‘Bellumque solus conficeret decor.’
Anacrion,
And questionless this Caestus of Venus could not but be most strangely powerful, that was made up of such bewitching Materials: For as Homer tels us,
Nor lesse than Pan, was Mercury honoured by them; for Antiquity likewise conceited
Homer in Hym. Mercur.
Though here (as by Callimachus, Moschus, Theocritus, Euripides, and others) taken for the proper name of [Page 74] a River; yet [...] is the common name of all Torrents, [...]. saith Eustathius. But though the Etymology hold, the Disparity doth not; for by Lucretius it is applyed to a River.
[...]; which Meander improperly translates caesiorum oculorum fulgorem. For [...] being equally attributed to the three, I conceive rather signifies the brightness, than that colour which is peculiarly ascribed to Minerva. The Scholiast of Challimachus and Apollonius, confirm this opinion, who render [...], and [...]. And Hesychius [...].
Some nice-eard Critick may perhaps think a Shepherds Crook would have sounded better in this place; but we go along with our Author; nor without authority; for the [...] (which as the Scholiast of Apollonius saith, [...]) though by the later Latines rendred Pedum, (ab usu consistendi, Scalig. l. 1. Poet.) was by the antient Romans termed Agolum, as Festus notes; which he describes to be Pastorale Bacculum quo Pecudes aguntur, which warrants our interpretation, and expresses ( [...]otidem verbis)— [...].
Agreeing verbatim with that of Ovid (in Epistol. Parid.)
Which needs no other interpretation then what our Author hath here given.
Let Ausonius here moralize. ‘Tegat oportet auditor doctrinā suam, qui volet ad dicendum sollicitare trepidantem, nec emerita adversum Tirunculos arma concutiat veterana calliditas. Sensit hoc Venus, de pulchritudinis forma, diù ambiguo ampliata judicio: pudenter enim, ut apud Patrem, velata certaverat, neque deterrebat aemulas, ornatus aequalis: at postquam in pastoris examen deducta est lis Dearum; Qualis emerserat Mari, aut cum Marte convenerat, & consternavit Arbitrum, & contendentium Certamen oppressit.’ Auson. Epist. 11. ad Paulum.
Our Author here makes Juno the mother of the Graces: Hesiod (in Theogon.) Jupiter and Eurynome their Parents: Antimachus will have them the daughters of Sol and Egle: (Pausan. in Boeotic.) Servius (in 6. Aeneid.) of Bacchus and Venus: These were in number three; their names Aglaia, Euphrosyne, Thalia. Yet both their names and number I find controverted: the Lacedemonians acknowledging onely two, by the name of Auxo, and Hegemon, (Paus. Boeot.) Homer but one, whom he makes the wife of Vulcan) quod gratiosa sint Mechanica opera, saith Phornutus:) yet he names Pasiphae likewise for one of the Graces, whom Juno promises to Somnus for his Bride: but see the common received Fable (and that moralized) in Seneca, in 1. de beneficiis.
I know not how Mars may be excused: but Vulcan had little reason to help so unnatural a mother as Juno, who is said to have thrown him to earth from heaven, when newly born, for his deformity: (the Physical sence of which, Lucretius in 5. de rerum natura tels us, is no other then that
Nor would she ever acknowledge him for hers, until such time as having made a chair of gold with such inward springs, that whoever sate therein was catch't as in a Trap: he sent the same for a present to Juno, who sitting down therein was taken fast in the private snares, and denied by Vulcan to be set at liberty, until such time as she would discover unto him who were his parents, whereupon Juno declaring the truth of the business, she was set free, and he admitted into the number and society of the Gods. See Pausan. in Attic. and Servius in 5. Eclog. Virgil.
Chall imachus de Pallade (in Lavacro)
Aeschilus Eumenid.
Which Coluthus seems to have imitated, and from thence to borrow the Metaphor of [...], as Nonnus from him, [...].
Phereclus was the son of Harmonides.
For he was slain afterwards in the Trojan wars by Meriones, as Homer in the same place witnesses.
The Libations which were usually made before any voyage, by pouring Wine, or throwing the Intrails of Beasts into the sea, are enough known from Virgil, Ovid l. 11. and others.
[...], frequent with Homer, Oppian, &c. Virgil, dorsum Maris: Suidas expounds it, [...]. [Page 78] Arnobius (speaking of our Saviour) calcabat Ponti Terga.
Ismarus is a mountain of Thrace, and a Maritime City of the same Region, in the province of Ciconia, mentioned by Homer in Odiss. [...]. expugned and plundered by Ʋlysses in his return from Troy, as he himself confesses:
Here a River, perhaps descending from the mountain, and therefore so called.
Pangaeus according to Pliny, is a mountain of Thrace.
The reason of this Epithite Heinsius gives (in Crepund. Silian. l. 15.) where he writes: Sepulchra sua in gratiam viatorum, Nautarumque in Mari errantium, in altum educebant antiqui: unde elegantissimè [...] Naviganti [...] dixit Coluthus (citing this verse.) In which sense likewise Apollonius in 1. (speaking of Mount Athos discovering it self to the Argonauticks as they sail'd along) saith,
Where [...] means no more than (in the sea-mans Phrase) [...], as a little before Apollonius in the same book speaks.
Which Hoelzlin not improperly renders,
Since to the sailer at sea, making for any shore, objects from thence discover themselves, as it were rising by degrees.
Hyginus in l. de Poetarum fabulis, c. 59. (speaking of Phyllis expecting Demophoon at the appointed day of his return)—Illa eo die dicitur novies ad littus accurrisse, quod ex ea Graecè Enneados appellatur.
So after at verse ( ) and Seneca in Troad.
A Province and City of Thessalie (the birth-place of Achilles.)
Which Peleus (as Teucer of Cyprus, and Telamon of Salamis) when banished by his father Aeacus (as his brothers likewise were) for the casual murther of Phocus, made himself Lord of.
A City in the Argive Territories, whose founder Perseus is said to be; so called, for that the pummel of his sword hilt (which in the Greek is [...], by which word likewise they denoted a Mush-room, or Toad-stool) fell off there. (Paus. in Corinth.) I have heard likewise (saith he) that Perseus being very thirsty, and pulling up a Mushrome [Page 80] by chance, there suddenly gushed out of the place a clear spring of running waters; with which having quenched his thirst, to his no little pleasure, he from that accident called the City he built there, Mycene: though there be others that will have Mycenus the son of Sparto, or Mycene the Daughter of Inachus, to give name to it; which opinions Pausanias yet rejects.
Pausan. Arcad. [...]. i. e. Erymanthus hath his Fountain in the hill Lampea, sacred to Pan; some part perhaps of the Mountain Erymanthus, (whence the river takes its name.) Which ( [...].) gliding through Arcadia, and on the right hand leaving the Mountain Pholoe, on the left the Thelpusian Plains, falls at length into Alphaeus.
The chief city of the Laconians, where Menelaus reign'd, built by Lacedaemon, and so called from Sparte (the daughter of Eurotas) his wife: Pausan. Lacon.
The most celebrated River of Laconia, which derives its name from Eurotas, one of the Laconian Kings; who [...]. having by a Channel carried away the water into the sea, which before made the fields Fenne, called [Page 81] the Current now flowing like a River within its banks, after his own name, Pausan. Lacon.
A Town in Laconia where Hellen was born, (and buried, with Menelaus, as Pausanias writes) so called [...], from Therapne the Daughter of Lelex. Lacon.
The Scholiast of Aristophanes, [...]. In Peloponnesus they call a Hat Cunea, from the wearing of which Mercury is named Cunes. But Eustathius expresly avers, that the Greeks in Homers time, went bare headed: Festus may reconcile this difference, who saith, The antients gave hats to Castor and Pollux, because they were Lacedaemonians, quibus pileatis pugnare in more positum: quo indomitum animum adversus Barbaros Reges & Tyrannos, significationem libertatis, ostentarent, Pier. Hierogl. lib. 40. So that I conceive here is meant rather such kind of Helmets as by Vegetius are described: Pilei, quos Pannonicos vocant, ex pellibus.
The story is thus related by Apollo to Mercury in Lucian (dialog. Mercurij & Apollo.) [...]. i. e. He learnt (to wit Hyacinthus) to play at Hurlebats, and I plaid with him. [Page 82] But the most pernicious of all the Winds, Zephyrus, lov'd him too, and had done so for a long time; but being slighted, and not brooking to be disdain'd; he, whilest we (as our custom was) plaid together, and I tost the Hurlebat on high, blowing from the top of Taygetus, drove it directly against the Boyes head with such violence, that the bloud strait sprung from the wound, and the Boy immediately dyed.
In the same Dialogue Apollo thus goes on, ‘ [...].’ i. e. But of the bloud that was shed, I caused the earth to produce a flowre, the fairest (Mercury) and most fragrant of all others, which carries certain letters in its leaves, that do (as it were) deplore his death. Of which, see Ovid. l. Metam. 10. & 13. Moschus in Epitaph. Bion. Pliny l. 21. c. 11. & 26. Dioscorides takes it to be the Vaccinium of the Latines, retaining some similitude of name: and so interpreted by Servius on this verse of Virgil, ‘Alba ligustra cadunt, vaccinia nigra leguntur.’
In imitation of Musaeus, [...]. A sign of Love, as Heliodorus observes, l. 2. so Dido in Virgil.
Catul in Ariadne—‘Cui languida nondum Lumina sunt nati carâ saturata figurâ’
Paus. (in Messeniacis) ‘ [...].’ The Pylian fields are for the most part sandy, & afford little pasturage for cattel. Homer testifies as much, who speaking of Nestor, stiles him alwaies the King of sandy Pylos. Eustathius upon Homer reckons up three several Towns of the same name; the first in Messenia, where Nestor reigned; the second in Arcadia, where Nestor was born; the third in Elis, near to the Olenian Promontory. This of Messenia is now called Navarinum, where yet stands a strong Castle (subject, as is all Peloponnesus, to the Turk) upon a rising ground, stretching into the sea, whereinto it hath a large Prospect, and a fair Haven, as the Author of the Turkish History tells me.
— [...]—The Son of great-soul'd Nestor. Homer Il.ε. of whom Pindar. Pythic. 6. Philostratus, l. 2. Ieon. 7. & Horac. l. 3. od. 10.
Aeacus was the son of Jupiter and Aegina; whose sons were Phocus, Peleus, Teucer, and Telamon.
[...].—(Homer passim in Illad. λ. & μ.) Menaetius valiant son, and the beloved associate of Achilles; by birth an Opuntian: who having at play casually slain Clysomnius the son of Amphidamus, a youth of equal years with himself, being banished his Countrey, and coming to Phthia, was kindly entertainted by [Page 84] Peleus, and brought up by him as a companion for his son Achilles: which besides Homer in Iliad. ψ. Ovid in these verses testifies,
Not here to be taken for one of Phthia, though happily our Author (at first sight) may seem to infer as much; for (as I have before noted)
Yet Neptune in Homer (Iliad. φ.) affirms that he only wall'd it.
Being hired to that end for a year by Laomedon, as Apollo was to keep his Oxen: as Homer in the same place tells us, and our Author likewise at verse () following, plainly intimates. But Pindar (Olymp. 8.) reports that part of it was wall'd by Aeacus,
The Godlings having no other way to save their credits, and keep touch with destiny, t' an by admitting a mortal to the work, which else in spite of fate, must needs have been impregnable.
It is not perhaps commonly taken notice of, that this Dardanus was a famous Magician. Apuleius in Apolog. Ego ille sim vel Charinondas, vel Damigeron, vel is Moses, vel Jannes, vel Apollonius, vel ipse Daidanus, vel quicunque post Zoroastrem, vel Hostanem, inter Magos celebratus est.
Musaeus, ‘ [...].’
And (with little difference) Virgil, ‘Diva solo fixos oculos aversa tenebar.’
A sign of bashfulness, or deliberation. Vide Barthij Adversaria.
The Antients (as both Philostratus and the Anonymus Author of Hieroglyphical Collections reportes) painted sleep like a man heavy with slumber, his under garment white, his upper black, thereby expressing Day and Night; holding in his hand a Horn, sometimes really such, sometimes of Ivory in the likeness of one, through which they feign'd that he conveyd dreams: true, when the same was of Horn; false, when of Ivory. To which Virgil in 6. Aeneid. and our Author here allude, (as before them Homer in 19. Odyss.) The reason of which Fiction, take from Macrobius (in Somn. Scip.) as more pertinent [Page 86] in my opinion, than that Exposition which Servius gives, where he writes much to this effect. ‘There is a veil drawn between our Intellect and Truth, yet this the soul (when freed from the distempers of the body by sleep) oft-times perceives, but darkly, and as it were through a cloudy medium, signified by the horn, of colour black, yet of a diaphanous nature: but when there is such a veil drawn over it, that the eyes of the minde can no way penetrate it, it is said to be of Ivory, whose nature is such, that though wrought to never so extream a thinness, it cannot possibly be made pellucid.’ Having given you this serious Mythologie of the Fable, it will not be amiss to conclude with this lighter allusion of Manno's.
Briefly, but fully to this purpose, Statius in 2. Achill.
Hermione in Ovids Epistle,
Of these Customary meetings of Virgins to dance in some Garden or Meadow, Theocrit. Idyl. 18. Moschus. Id. 2. Apollon. 1. Musaeus.
Upon this ground (perhaps) is built that opinion of the Ancients (commonly received among the vulgar,) that the Lion will not touch the person of a King to hurt him▪ for,
Homer in 14. & 16. Iliad. whence Seneca in Hercule furente borrowed this expression,‘Frater durae languide mortis.’
For they both had the same parents, Erebus and Night, according to Hesiod in Theogonia: Pausanias (in Eliaccrum 1.) reports that he saw at Elis, the picture of a woman holding in her left arm a white, in her right a black child, the one expressing death, the other sleep; the woman her self representing night, the nurse of both. The reason of which faigned Twinship, Athenagoras thus gives: [...]. i. e. For this cause I suppose some call sleep, the brother of death, not as deriving their genealogie from the same parents, but from the same accidents which happen to those that sleep and dye; as their insensibleness of external occurrences, and their own being.
By reason of the near similitude of the two affections: Heliodor. l. 2.