THE CHAST and LOST LOVERS: Lively shadowed in the persons of Arcadius and Sepha, and illustra­ted with the severall stories of Haemon and Antigone, Eramio and Amissa, Phaon and Sappho, Delithason and Verista.

Being a description of several LOVERS smiling with delight, and with hopes fresh as their youth, and fair as their beauties in the beginning of their Affections, and covered with Bloud and Horror in the conclusion.

To this is added the Contestation betwixt Bac­chus and Diana, and certain Sonnets of the Author to AURORA.

Digested into three Poems, by Will. Bosworth, Gent.

—Me quoque
Impune volare, & sereno
Calliope dedit ire coelo.

London, Prnted for William Shears, and are to be sold at the sign of the Bible in St. Pauls Church-Yard, 1653.

To the true Lover of all good Learning, the Honourable Iobn Finch, Esq

SIR,

IF Poetry be truly conceived to carry some Divinity with it; and Poets, on what Sub­jects soever their Fancies have discoursed, have bin intitaled Divine, as the Divine Mr. Spencer, the Divine Ron­sard, the Divine Ariosto; how much more properly may they be esteemed to be Di­vine, who have made chast Love their Argument, which is a fire descended frō Heaven, and (habituall in its Action) is alwayes ascending and aspiring to it: This is that Love which Xenophon doth distinguish from the sensuall, and doth call it The heavenly Venus, and with this our Poet being powerfully inspired hath brea­thed [Page] forth these happy raptures, to declare, That Love and the Muses are so near of kinne, that the greatest Poets are the grea­test Lovers.

And Sir, although there is no man a more absolute master of his passions than your self, and therefore you cannot be said to be subjected unto Love, yet it shall be no dishonor to you to acknowledge your self to be a lover of the Muses. In this con­fidence I have made bold to tender unto you these Poems, the work of a young Gentleman of 19 years of Age, who had he lived, might have been as well the Wonder as the Delight of the Arts, and been advanced by them amongst the highest in the Temple of Fame. The Myrtle and the Cypresse Groves, which he made more innocent by his Love, shall remember, and the musick of the Birds shall teach every tree to repeat to one a­nother his chast complaint, and the flou­rish of the trees shall endeavour to raise unto Heaven his name, which they shall [Page] wear ingraved on their leaves. These are onely his first flights, his first fruits, the early flowers of his youth; flowers they are, but so sweetly violent, that as their Beauties doe arrest our eyes, so (I hope) their perfume will continue through ma­ny Ages to testifie the Influence of your protection, and the most gracefull re­sentments of him who is

Sir,
Your most humble and devoted servant, R. C.

To the Reader.

THis Booke hath the fate which the modesty of Antiquity did assigne to their Bookes, which is, not to be extant till the Death of the Auth [...]r, declining thereby the p [...]esumption of an assumed and a sawcy Immortality, and owing this new life, which by their remaining labours they received, to the Be­nefit and Commendation of Posterity. These Poems are secure in themselves, and neither fear the tongue of the Detractor, nor desire the praise of the Encomi­astick, their one worth can best speak their own merit, but this it shall be lawfull for me to insert, that in one Book and of so small a bulke you shall seldome see more cont [...]ined,

— He doth swell
Not with th'how much he writeth, but th'how well.

You shall find in this System the Idea of Poetry at large, and in one garland all the flowers on the Hill of Parnasus, or on the banks of Helicon.

The high, the fluent, and the pathetick discourses of his lovers, and the transformation of them after [Page] their death into precious stones, into Birds, into Flow­ers, or into Monuments of Marble, you shall finde hath allusion to Ovids Metamorphosis, which in Ovids own iudgement was the best piece that ever he composed, and for which with most confidence, he doth seem to challenge to himself the deserved honour of a perpetuall Fame.

The strength of his fancy, and the shadowing of it in words he taketh from Mr. Marlow in his Hero and Leander, whose mighty lines Mr. Benjamin Iohnson (a man sensible enough of his own abilities) was often heard to say, that they were Examples fitter for admiration than for parallel, you shall find our Au­thor every where in this imitation. This the one.

Some say fair Cupid unto her inclin'd,
Mourn'd as he went, and thinking on her pin'd.

And in another place,

And as she went, casting her eyes aside,
Many admiring at her beauty dy'd.

This the other,

And mighty Princes of her love deny'd,
Pin'd as they went, & thinking on her dy'd.

You shall finde also how studious he is to follow him in those many quick and short sentences at the close of his fanc [...], with which he every where doth adorn his wri­tings.

The weaving of one story into another and the sig­nificant flourish that doth attend it is the peculiar Grace of Sir Philip Sidney, whom our Author doth so happily imitate, as if he were one of the same Inteli­gences [Page] that moved in that incomparable Compasse.

His making the end of one Verse to be the frequent beginning of the other (besides the Art of the Trope) was the labour and delight of Mr. Edmund Spe­cer, whom Sir Walt Raleigh and S. Ke [...]e [...] Dig­by were used to call the English Virgill, and indeed Virgill himself did often use it, and in my opinion with a greater grace, making the last word only of his Verso to be the beginning of the Verse following, as

— Sequitur pulcherrimus Astur
Astur equo sidens, & ve [...]si [...]oloribus armis.

Virgill hath nothing more usuall than this gracefull way of repetition, as those who are most conversant with him, can readily witnesse with me. Our Authors making use of one and the same Verse in several places is also taken from Virgill, as you shall often find in his Georgicks, which he would never have let passe (being full twelve years in the compleating of that work) if he had conceived it would have bin looked upon as an imperfection either of two much Haste or Sloth, and this also is often to be found in Homer.

You behold now how many, and what great Exam­ples our Author hath propounded to himself to imitate, if it be obiected, that it is a disparagement to imitate any, be they never so excelent (according to that of Ho­race) O imitatorum stultum pecus; It is no ab­surdity to make answer, that Horace wrote that in a criticall hour, when he abounded with a hypercrytical sense for if you please to look upon the Fragments of those Greek Poets, which in many books are inserted [Page] at the end of Pindar, you shall undoubtedly find that Horace hath translated as much of them as are now extant word for word, and put them into the first book of his Odes, which is very easie in this place to be re­presented, but that it is much beyond our room, and a little besides our subiect.

But more fully to satisfie the obiection, it may be an­swered, that in this Horace had no relation at all to the words or fancy of the Imitator, but to these new numbers, and measures, which he first taught the Ro­man Muse to tread, and this makes him so much to magnifie himself.

Libera per vacuum posui vestigia princeps. The works of Virgill are nothing else but mere Imi­tations [...] in his Eclogues he followeth Theocritus, in his Aeaeids, Homer, in his Georgicks he imi­tateth Hesiod, which he conceiveth to be so far from his preiudice, that he esteemeth it his glory. ‘Ascraeum (que) Virg. Georg. lib. 3. cano Romana per oppida carmen.’ And yet because the same subiect was not treated on be­fore by any Latine Poet, you may observe how confi­dent he is of himself:

—Iuvat ire viam quâ nulla priorum
Castaliam molli deducitur orbita clivo.
Lib. Georg 2.

These praelibations may serve not only to discharge our Author, but to raise him above those accusations which peradventure some distemper'd Criticks might have charged him with. The other part of his invention is intirely his own, smooth yet smart, and as clear as it [Page] is active! Now when all this shall be done at nineteen years of age, and out of a desire onely to please you, what entertainment should you give unto it? with what flowers should you crown his memory, who brought so many flowers to crown your delight? Take them, and peruse them, his leaves invite every hand to turn them over; The young men may read them for their Information, and with some sympathy of affection; The old men for their Recreation, The Ladies may learn them by heart, and repeat them to one another, for this the Muses, upon their credit, have given me in charge to impart unto them, That whatsoever they shall lay forth on his praises (the Book readover) they will finde it paid back to them in the rec­koning.

R. C.

On the Amorous and pathetick story of Arcadius and Sepha, &c.

LO here the Muse which to our eye discovers
The bleeding Fate of many haples Lovers [...]
What though his warbling lyre not gravely rings
With such deep notes as lofty CLIO sings,
His Muse is soft, as sweet, and though not strong,
Pathetick, lively, all on fire, and young,
Flowing with tears and smiles, and full of sport,
As fits the subject of fair VENVS Court,
And this may Court you to peruse his Book;
So oft i'th' streets with prompter eyes wee look
On lovely Girls who but their shooe-strings tye,
Than Wives, their Garters making fast more high.
L. B.

On the exact and elabourate story of Arcadius and Sepha, and the rest of the Beavy of the Lovers:

WHat brave young Man is this, whose lute doth lead
The dancing Rocks, and teach the Woods to tread?
Is Thracian Orpheus reviv'd, whose laye
Hath now charm'd Hell, to get himself away?
(Son of the Arts and Heav'n) our hearts we fill,
With joy and zeal to gratulate thy skill;
What fitting tributes shall we bring thee now,
To crown thy merits, and adorn thy brow;
For since thy harp to follow Trees are grac'd,
Bayes of themselvs unto thy Brows maks haste
F. L.

An Epitaph on the deceased Author, in allusion to his Sonnets on Aurora.

SAd Lover, thou who to thy cruel Saint,
Didst teach thy Muse to breath thy last com­plaint,
Whilst thou the Ends that Sex aim'd at mad'st known,
Me thought I heard thee thus to speak thy own;
Lo here the Glory of all Womens pride,
The matchless Trophy of their Beauties might,
To kill by Treason, and hid fires provide
Those to devour whom they do most invite;
Poor injur'd ashes! you too late have try'd,
How ill they doe the gentlest hearts requite;
O that in Beauties should those flames be known,
Which burn our brests, yet never warm their own!
E. G.

On the deathlesse Poems of the de­ceased Author.

HAppy young Man, who though laid under ground,
Thy name to Honour a sure way hath found;
Thy chast Arcadius shall with Sepha live,
Whiles the kind Sun warmth to the Earth shal give,
And every Age shall take delight to see
Fair Haemon met with fair Antigone;
Whiles thankfull Rivers to the Seas make hast
Eramioes and Amissaes love shall last;
No more shall Phaon by contempt be led,
But foot to foot shall now with Sappho tread,
And Delithasons youth, and chast desires
Shall keep more warm his fair Veristaes fires;
Thus whilst that thou with thy immortall layes,
Beauty, and Love, and Innocence dost praise,
That praise which thou to others worths dost lend,
Doth make thy own high as the Stars ascend.
S. P.

On these laboured Poems of the de­ceased Authour, Mr. WILLIAM BOSWORTH.

THese bleeding, Lovers, and unstaind desires,
Their undry'd tears, & their religious fires,
And their Stars sullen malice, which did bend
Their lives and loves to an untimely end,
May bring the pious Reader with perfumes
Of flowr's and sighs to worship at their tombs
And their high flames admire; But ô forbear
That hasty zeal, and do not tread too near,
For know the flames so ardent were that burn'd
Their suffering hearts, and them to ashes turn'd,
That by your sighes they may too soon be blown
Into new life, and fet on fire your own.
L. C.

The BOOKE to the READER.

Reader,
MY Author vow'd to prattle forth his Loves,
And fill the azure skyes with watry clouds:
My Author vow'd to dwell in shady groves,
And paint his Fortune in Diana's shrouds.
For the best Artist that the world admires,
Was but the Artist of his own Desires.
You must not then expect a curious straine,
That best befits the queintness of his story,
No, that's a shadow for a riper brain,
Let them report it, that have had the glory,
The guilded tresses of the clearest shining,
Have neither force in rising nor declining.
Then take the branches of his tender vine,
Which here you have presented, though he fears,
You'l draw his meaning by too strict a line,
For yet he ne'r attain'd to thrice seven years.
Yet let me pass, and e're his day see's night,
His Hawk may please you with a fairer slight.

Arcadius and Sepha.

(1)
NEar to the Caspian streights, where Dolphins sing,
Hippobatos, a verdant Meadow lay,
Along which Meadow ran a silver Spring,
Winding her streams as careless of her way,
Here would she stay, and seem returning home,
Till with her self, her self was overcome.
(2)
Down by which brook there sate a little Ladd,
A little Ladd nam'd
A Poet of Creet.
Epimenides,
Close to his foot a little Dog he had,
Whose Masters face Character'd his disease,
Sighing he said, and to the Powers above,
Make me (ô Gods) immortall for my love.
(3)
Snatch hence my soul, the better part I have,
And him of his detested life deprive,
Who vows to live obscurely in a Cave,
Shall Sepha die, and I remain alive?
Satyres goe weep, and when ye hear her name,
Blow forth my Loves inevitable fame.
(4)
Let swiftest thoughts possess my Sepha's name,
And sound her praise as swift as Eagles flie,
Let Marble be proud to preserve the same,
Left rotten time out-slip her memorie,
[Page 3] Lest Trumpets cease to sound, and so forbear it.
Let Ecchoe's learn to dictate when they hear it.
(5)
Ye sliding streams, that pass so gently by,
Winding your waves, and do not faster flee,
Ioy you to hear my Sepha's Elegy?
Or doe you linger to condole with me?
'Tis to condole, since such is my estate,
Your bubling streams do murmur at my fate.
(6)
Ye little Birds that us'd to sit and sing,
While Driades with Musicks nimble touch,
(When woods and valleys did of Sepha ring)
Present harmonious tunes, to make her couch,
A nest of Heav'nly raptures, sweeter far,
With purer notes, than earthly noises are.
(7)
Why doe you now my Sepha's tunes forbear?
Why doe you cease to tune my Sepha's layes?
Why do'n't you now to wonted trees repair?
Why do'n't you sit and sing my Sepha's praise?
Ye warbling Chanters that such Musick bred,
Are ye grown weary, or is Sepha dead?
(8)
Or Sepha dead? is, Heav'nly Sepha dead?
No more shall earth be happy with her sweet,
No more shall eyes be with her beauty fed,
No more shall slowers be proud to kiss her feet,
No more shall Phoebus court her in a shower,
No more shall Bee's mistake her for a flower.
(9)
In blessed times when vertuous Sepha liv'd,
The happy earth was with her beauty drest,
[Page 4] Each greedy eye, that saw not Sepha, griev'd,
Each flower was proud, to be by Sepha prest,
Love-showring P [...]oebus spar'd no am'rous time,
And Bees on her did think to gather Thyme.
(10)
Blest be the season, and the hower blest,
When first my eyes in Sepha's eyes were seen,
When first my hopes began to build their nest,
When first I saw her walking on yo [...] Green,
When first my lips s [...]ipt Nectar from her brest,
Blest be the season, and the hower blest.
(11)
Ye stately Pines that dwell on lofty Hils,
Stoop down your heads with a dejected fall,
Let Boreas go sport with whom he wills,
And though you knew her not, nor never shall,
Sob forth her plaints with a bewailing eye,
And say 'twas Sepha's death that made you dye.
(12)
Smilax, and Crocus, little blushing flowers,
Hence cease your red, and let your pale begin,
And, say you want those sweet distilling showers,
That P [...]oebus us'd to Court fair Sepha in,
Lillies forbear to stoop your drooping heads;
For now your shame, the fairest Lillie's dead.
(13)
That Lillie's dead in whom all graces been,
That Lillie's dead, the fairest of the Nine;
That Lillie's dead, where Natures art was seen,
That Lillie's dead, whose odours were divine.
That Lower, than whom more fairer there was none;
Is pluck't away, the fairest Lillie's gone.
(14)
She was the fairest, and the sweetest creature,
That ever yet was subject to the Gods,
For they resolv'd she was the only feature,
In whom they joy'd, the Powers delight in odds,
To deck their tents, Fair Sepha 'twas that mov'd
My soul to bless, thee Sepha whom I lov'd.
(15)
Some Poets feign there is a Heav'n on Earth,
Earth hath its joyes to make a happy time,
Admired odors giving a new birth,
And sweetning joyes, with M [...]lli- [...]lor [...]'s thyme;
'Tis not a feigned, but Heav'n rightly fam'd,
For I enjoy'd the Heav'n the Poets nam'd.
(16)
Iove was propitious when [...] first begun
To Court fair Sepha, Eccho's nimble charm:
Rose-cheek't Adonis, fairer than the Sun,
Had not a sweeter choice, nor kinder harm;
Rough-footed Satyres, Satyres, Nymphs and Fauns,
Scatter'd her praise througho [...]t Diana's lawns.
(17)
If I but walk't in T [...]mpe, or the Groves,
To meditate my melancholly layes,
I was saluted with the murm'ring loves
Of shady Pines, repining at her praise,
Griev'd at her praise, when they her name did hear,
They sigh for want of her sweet presence there.
(18)
Or if, (weary of sighs) I left the bowers,
To recreate me in the whispring Air.
I was saluted with distilling showers,
That brought me tidings of my sweetest fair.
[Page 6] Coming from Heav'n they told me news of this,
Iove had prepar'd already for her bliss.
(19)
If to the Mountains I a voyage took,
Mountains with Roses, and with Pinks adorn'd,
There lay Adonis by his silver hook,
Courted by Venus, Venus by him scorn'd,
Venus with tears presents young Cupid's letter,
He hates her vows, and loves fair Sepha better.
(20)
If to the Garden Flora me invited,
Where all the dainty flowers are said to lye,
Those dainty [...]lowers, that so much on [...]e delighted,
Are now abasht, and in their beauty dye,
Lillies and Roses startle at her name,
One pale for fear, the other red for shame.
(21)
If to the Woods perswaded by my Muse,
Even there were Ecchoes of [...]air Sepha's glory,
The warbling Chanters made a fine excu [...]e,
For her delay; and chanted forth the story
Of her best praise; by which I understood,
They striv'd with tunes to tell her to the wood.
(22)
If I but chanc'd to walk unto the springs,
There sate the Muses warbling forth her story,
Wanton Thalia with sweet raptures sings,
Folding her name in Heav'ns immortall glory.
With Hymnes, and layes, they prattle forth delight,
And count her name the pen with which they write.
(23)
Yet sad Melpomine rejoyceth not,
Nor ought but imprecations 'stows upon her,
[Page 7] She saith her beauty is to her a blot,
Whose so much goodness robs them of their honor,
Help then Melpomine with thy sad ver [...]e,
To tell her fate, and houl upon her Herse.
(24)
These were the plaints the [...] Lad bestow'd
The funeralls of his fair Sepha's death,
Behold said he, the service that I ow'd,
And vow'd to pay ( Sepha) shall be my breath,
When heard by Ladies of renowned glory.
They urg'd him to relate his Sepha's story.
(25)
Ladies (said he) if your unhappy ears,
Admit such sad disas [...]ers to have room,
I by your looks your inward thoughts appears,
You'l Elegize this story that shall come.
You'l sigh to hear my Se [...]ha's hap, while I,
Bend all my power to tell her fate, and dye.

THE HISTORIE OF ARCADIUS and SEPHA.

Liber Primus.

AMidst Campania Fields, near Sabine Bowers,
Plain to each view there stood two state­ly Towers,
Mounting aloft the skies their cloudy heads,
As proud as high, disdaining their first Beds;
So curious was their building, and their stone,
That both alike, they both were took for one,
Shewing by'th' type of their conjoyning arts,
The true conjunction of each others hearts.
Two stately Towers for their buildings fam'd,
One Arathea, th'other Talmos nam'd;
In Talmos, Sepha dwelt, whose heav'nly face,
Gave to each quill a line, each line a grace,
In whispring forth her praise, whose radiant eyes,
Like starry lamps that emulate the skies,
In height and beauty with their gl [...]ttering light,
Shone like the clearest stars i'th' darkest night.
[Page 10] Vpon her head she wore a Laurell Crown
Knit up with sundry flowers, on which Renown,
As chiefest Empress of her fate and beauty,
Did sympathize with a religious duty:
Hesperides, in whose calm heart did rest
No sullen strains, but Lyrick, and a nest
Of Heav'nly raptures, perfum'd odours sweet,
Which Nectar and Nepenthe breathings, meet
For Heav'ns great Queen, such was her vertue given,
That where she was, there was a second Heav'n.
Her face so sweet as Nature can devise,
Was drest with sparkling Diamonds of her eyes,
The sweet composure of whose beauty yeelds
A Medall of the true Elisian fields;
Her forehead, fittest place to go before,
(Since who so speaks of beauty treads it o're)
Was justly call'd a path, whereon did pass,
A way that leads you where all beauty was.
Close by that path, two radiant lamps did rise,
Which some abruptly did intitle eyes;
Too mean a name for two such Heav'nly lights,
As far beyond all eyes, as dayes from nights:
To whom was added that Coelestiall grace
Of perfect pureness to adorn the face,
That whensoe're these seeing lamps did move,
They'd light spectators on their way to love.
Between which eyes (if eyes they may be nam'd)
A pillar, (as of purest marble fram'd)
Then call'd her nose, did lead you to two plains,
Pure white and red, like milk which clarret stains.
Two flowry fields where Flora seem'd to dwell,
Where white and red were striving to excell,
Whose raptures seem'd like a Celestiall nest,
Whereon distressed lovers seem'd to rest,
[Page 11] Which Paradise if any lover seeks,
It was presented in fair Sepha's cheeks.
Two pearls of that inestimable price,
So far beyond th' perfection of her eyes,
Impall'd with that excessive form of bliss,
Smiling, you'd think th' invited you to kiss.
What name or title fits fair Sepha's lips?
Shall some Ambrosian cup, where great Jove sips
Nectar from Ganamed? too mean it is,
To bear their form, it is too mean by this,
Jove out of them Nepenthe us'd to sip,
But that Nepenthe grew on Sepha's lip.
Then gan her teeth in a most perfect line,
Plac't each by other through her lips to shine,
More white, more true, than Nature could prefer
To any other was it not to her.
Those that ne're saw, might judge what they had been,
Like picture pearl, through crimson shadows seen;
So was her chin like Christall over red,
So was her hair in decent manner spred;
Which she all careless down her back did wear,
As a fit object for the wanton Air,
Careless to sport with, next to them was prais'd
Her neck, as of a Marble pillar rais'd,
Proud to support the weight of such a f [...]ce,
In whom three Graces seem'd to be one grace.
Then might you see her Amber brests, more white
Than Scithian snow, and yeelding more delight
Than silly quill is able to report,
They were the hills where Cupid us'd to sport.
Between which hills there lay a pleasant Alley,
Whose milky paths did lead into the Valley.
This was that Sepha who unhappy dy'd,
This was that Sepha for whose hap I cry'd;
[Page 12] This was that Sepha, whom the Valleys miss,
And this was her whose Tragick stories this.
Sepha, the glory of the scorned earth,
In Talmos dwelt, sometimes a place of mirth,
The ground whereon it stood was deck't with flowers,
Here lay a Meadow, there were Sabine bowers.
The house was with a Grove of trees inclos'd,
Proud of the beauty that therein repos'd:
Only a glead there lay, the trees between,
Where Arathea was of Talmos seen.
In Arathea young Arcadius dwelt,
A man where Nature had so freely dealt
Her chiefest art, and artificiall skill,
Pleasing each eye, but most to Sephas will.
Oft by her window did Arcadius ride,
Sometimes to hunt, and sometimes to divide
The Air with riding swift Italian horses,
Here making stops, there running at full courses,
When she (unknown to him) with watchfull eye,
Oft saw his going, and his coming by,
So that of fire which Lovers sometimes find,
A spark began to kindle in her mind.
Once did she blame unkindly Cupid much;
Darling said she, and is thy power such?
Vnkindly thus pure streams to overcome,
And force a heart to love she knows not whom?
Is he too good that thus thou dost deny
Me to receive one courting from his eye?
Cupid, scorn'st thou my prayers? or dost thou shame?
Is he so mean to let me know his name?
Yet let me live, let me his feature se [...],
If hee's but vertuous, 'tis enough for me.
This said, her eyes drawn by a heavy sound,
Saw young Arcadius, groveling on the ground,
[Page 13] Whose too too nimble horse, in striving most
To please his master, his blest burthen lost.
Once did she speak, once did she move her tongue,
What sad mishap said she, did thee that wrong?
How didst thou of thy wonted favours miss?
Was the ground greedy thy fair limbs to kiss?
At whose Celestiall voice, like a sweet charm,
He started up, and said, I had no harm;
Thanks for your love, and with a decent grace,
Stoops down his hat, by which she saw his face.
Sepha (said she) be glad, for thou hast found,
And seen the Arrow that thy heart did wound.
Well, young Arcadius gets him to his steed,
Who guilty of the last unhappy deed,
With nimble strokes his master to delight,
Slips o're the plain from fairest Sepha's sight.
Go then, said she, the height of beauties pride,
And worlds chief mirror; if thy heart is ty'd
To any Lady whom thou call'st thy own,
As sure it is, or else thou wouldst have shown
Some more respects to me, but if thou art,
If to another thou hast linkt thy heart,
Twice happy thou, thrice she, that shall imbrace
Thy slender body, and enjoy thy face.
This said, she to a silent chamber goes,
Weary of love, but more of mind, and throws,
Sometimes her restless body on a bed,
Where love is with imaginations [...]ed,
Then to the window would she take her way,
And view the place where young Arcadius lay,
Thence would she to her closet, where alone,
Alone she sate her sorrowes to bemone;
If such was Isis love to Lignus son,
Then ignorant why he her love had won,
[Page 14] And Iphis had in his Ianthe got,
Not yet a man, yet more than one mans lot?
If such was Philoclea's a [...]dent love,
From her own sex, such free desires to move?
When Zelmenes eyes such direfull vapors threw,
And to her own, prodigious accents drew?
If Isis was of Iphis change most glad?
And Philoclea her own wishes had?
Why may not Sepha be possest of hers,
Not half so far impossible as theirs?
But Heav'n conspird with an impatient eye,
And all the powers to act her Tragedy.
Not that Injustice with the Gods did dwell,
For how could they 'gainst that sweet face rebell,
Nor enmity against such beauty bred,
Whose double portion with amazement led
Each greedy eye into a feild of Roses
And Lillies which a [...]hea [...]re incloses.
But Love whose passions with impartiall flames,
Now whisper'd 'mongst the Gods, aloud proclaims,
By [...]ove [...] consent to dispossesse us here
Of our faire Heav'n, for they did want her there:
Conspicuous fate, her heart already feels
Cupids dire bolt, and at first Arrow yeelds;
No Warrier she, nor striv'd with strugling hand
The dart to break, nor would she it withstand,
But gently stepping t'wards his Bow did hie,
And Phoenix-like into the flames did flie;
So Pilomel doth willingly depose,
Her tender brest against the Thorne, so those
Who (Bleeding easly) meet death void of paine,
Pha [...]iphae so in Ida woods did raigne,
Twice did the honour of Latona move
A scornd defiance to Arcadius Love,
[Page 15] But twice by Ericyna twas defac't,
And twice more Love into her heart was plac't,
Wherefore unwilling to omit the art,
The Salve she thought would molli [...]ie her smart,
Half doubting Cupid who such change had wrought,
Gave speech the leave, to ease her of her thought.
Love, who the greatest Potentates can tame,
(Ruine of zeale) at whose majestick name,
(Blind wicked boy) disguiz'd with all untruth,
The Gods have yeelded honour to his youth,
Sprung first from Venus Goddess of his art,
If blind as some suppose how can he dart
Showrs of such wrongs on silly Womans heart?
Thou Goddess of the Vallies and the Plains,
See how the wagg thy sacred rites disdains,
Thou thou Latona's Daughter, whose delights
I vow to perfect, and maintain thy rites,
In spite of Cupid, see how he deposes
Thy Holy Lawes, see how he plucks thy Roses,
And crops the fairest Lillies of thy Closes.
Into my heart some heavy thought is straid,
But there it shall not, nor long hath it staid,
Some muddy cloud hath overwhelm'd my face,
And left behind it shaddowes of disgrace:
Thus when the Heav'ns thy mighty Father lowrs,
His anger is some bitter tasted showrs,
To perish quite the odours of thy flowers.
Thus hath he given power to the Boy,
Who strives thy Virgin odours to destroy.
[Page 16] Vrg'd by the daughter of Oceanu [...]
His Frothy Mother, enemy to us.
And she doth practice his deceitfull smiles,
The fittest motions with which he beguiles,
And with a touch thy Vestall lamps defiles.
Vp (thou Alphea) shew thy pow'r and skill,
Reserve thy virgins wholly to thee still,
Lend us the swiftest [...]rethusa's feet,
To flie Alpheus, make our prayers fleet:
And that we may doe honor to thy name,
Do thou in Ephesus thy will proclame,
That we with nettles may defie his flame.
Thus did she feed her thoughts on weak dispair,
Sighing her sorrows to the empty air,
Repining only that her heavy fate
Prest down so hard to make her derogate.
Might I (said she) Idali [...]'s garments wear,
I would be glad, would she but hear my prayer,
Or Dian thou to whom I am devoted,
Admit not my true zeal to be remoted
From service thine, if still thy power thou hast;
If Citherea hath it not defac't,
Say whether yet he any hath imbrac't.
Say whether yet he any hath embrac't,
If yet to thee his service be ally'd,
Let not his cheeks of any sorrows tast,
'Tis pity such pure streams with worse be dy'd;
But howsoe're if happy him be ty'd,
And Hymen link him to some other Bride,
Let not his name, nor kindred be deni'd.
[Page 17] And thus she discontinuing Dian's fires,
Vext with excess of heat and love, retires
Into the garden, where she takes free scope
To vent her plaints, but all deny her hope.
Each flowr she sees gives a fresh appetite
To that sweet flowr she wants; there's no delight,
But dreams and visions haunt her in her sleep;
The birds that us'd to sing, now seem'd to weep,
And all with heavy voice did seem to move
Complaints, and wail for her unhappy love.
Nor could she say 'twas love did her oppress,
Since she was ignorant of what fair guess
She was enamored, she saw his face,
And knew he was a man, but of what race
And name she knew not, nor knew where he dwelt;
(Oft so for unknown cause, strange pains are felt)
Oft from the garden would she send her eyes,
Loves faint Embassadors, into the skies,
For help, and oft with shrill complaining sounds,
Would weep forth prayers, with which the air abounds.
Thence would she unto Venus Altar hast,
Where when the myrrhe and odors she had plac't,
And mixing plaints with the perfuming flame,
Grant me great Queen of Love to know his name.
Thence would she unto Dian's Altar hie.
And do the like, and thence to Cupid flie,
But still return'd inrag'd, amaz'd, unblest,
Till fairest Hecate heard her request.
Not far from Talmos there a City was,
C [...]speria nam'd D [...]lia's denoted place,
Where she a temple had sacred to her,
Where of [...] unmarried people did prefer
Their pray'rs, remoted only for the same,
No [...]ymi neall servants thither came
[Page 18] Now was the time, when cloth'd in Scythian whites
Her Priests were ready to perform her rites;
Her Cups were with [...]asta [...]ion liquors fill'd,
Her Altar with pale Sacrifices hill'd,
That all her virgins came to wait upon her
Bearing their [...]estall lamps Diana [...]s honor.
When Sepha t'wards her temple did repair,
Cloth'd all in yellow, whose dishevell'd hair,
Stirr'd with the winde, gave a reflective shine,
As Iove had tow'd her in a golden shrine.
Down to Gargaphia, did she take her way,
Fear lending wings, since Love had caus'd her stay
Too long, and as she tript o're those fair Lawns,
Roughfooted Satyres, Satyres, Nymphs and Fawns,
With various colour'd flowers which they had set,
Made for her feet a pleasant Carquenett.
Her eyes when first they glanc't towards the place,
Whither she would, O more than human race,
Said she, be thou propitious to me still;
Impute not this delay, want of good will
Towards thy holy Laws, and as she prayd,
The more she run, the more she thought she staid;
Chiefly for this, when first her tender feet,
With gentle motions brought her to those sweet,
Those diapred, those rape enamor'd dales,
First mother to those cool perfumed gales,
Which Zephyrus from flowry Meadows sends,
To court Aurora, whose beauty extends
(Like blushing sighs with which women beguile)
Back to the same to grace them with a smile.
She heard shrill voices, shrill complaining cryes,
The hasty messengers of some dull eyes,
Call her to witness with lamenting verse,
Like those that use to houl over the herse
[Page 19] Of their dead friends, to which as women use,
[...]he gives a skreek, women can seldome chuse;
Which skreek, whether it were for strangeness rather;
That all the Silvan dwellers 'bout her gather,
Or whether 'twas the rareness of her voice,
As sure it was, for that O Heav'nly noise,
Hath power to lead the wildest rudest ear,
Which once those Heav'nly raptures doth but hear,
From uncivility, to deep amaze;
But be it what it will, they all did gaze
And flock about her, silent, pale, and wan,
Till one (it seemes the chiefest of them all) began,
Hence ugly grief, to which they all agree,
Though our King's gon, wee'l make our Queen of thee,
Then gan they leap and dance, with such delight,
Which put fair Sepha into such a fright,
That from her eyes she let fall such a frown,
That seen of them, they all fell trembling down.
Yet such was Sepha's vertue and good nature,
That she would not permit the smallest creature,
Through her to perish, if from her there came
Ought did extingish the desired flame
Of life, the same to her own heart return'd;
[...]or with the like desire of Love she burn'd:
[...]he would have gon and left them, but compassion
Of their then grief, caus'd a deliberation,
Half gon she turn'd again, and with her hand
Helping them up, saith let me understand,
The cause you weep, if it require my art,
With you to grieve, with you I' [...] bear a part.
When one awakened with excess of bliss,
[...]ose up, and gan to kiss her [...]ars with this.
[Page 20] Nisean Silenus a born of Indian race,
The Tale of Bacchus & Diana.
Once kept yon hill, you Gaurus was his place,
His palace was with palest marble rais'd,
Imbrac't with blushing grapes, and often prais'd
By those, which never yet the reason knew,
For those sweet smelling flowers about it grew.
The way that leads you to this more than blest
Elizium, was bordred with a nest
Of Hyacinths, which now begin to spred
Their Amiclean flowers into a bed;
Like that of Lillies, which our Poets say,
Leads now to him, instil'd the Milkie way;
There was no path went creeping through the same,
Which might delude the most opprobrious name,
With, Fallicies, for so they might suppose,
The way that leads to honor doth inclose
A world of bliss, when each eye hath his charm,
The way to honor hath a world of harm.
I speak not this to disallow the rites
Honoria claims, the self-same way invites
As well to honor, as well not to honor,
For she hath equall ballance cast upon her;
But to uphold the blest Silenian way,
Whose smooth egressions will admit no stay,
To those who t'wards Brisean Altars hie,
Till they enjoy th' Nisean Canopy:
A vale there is, which from a low descent
Of a late Hill, did somewhat represent
Phlegrean plains, nurst by Meanders waves,
Which cut their bedds, and furrow their own graves.
This was Nemea call'd, a fertile plain,
Bedew'd with blood of Mifian cattle, slain
[Page 21] For sacrifice, brought by th' Ismenides,
The wrath of just Silenus to appease.
Whose angry frowns fright you from that blest vale;
But till you to a far more pleasant dale,
Which mounted by two stepps doth yeeld a sight
More smooth than glass, more glorious than del [...]ght.
A heap of Pines there are, which equall range
On either side, a pleasant sight but strange,
To those ne're saw't, through which there lye [...]a glede,
Smooth bladed grass, which shews you the ab [...]de
Of Bacchus guide, then come you to a Court,
Where all the crew of Satyres doe resort;
And with shrill cryes do make his pallace-ring,
And Io, Io, Bacchanalia sing.
No wall there is that doth inclose the same,
Tis hem'd with lawrel trees of the bigst frame,
And under them there is a bushy hedge
Of Rosemary, which cut ev'n make a ledge,
For various colour'd flowers his Clients bring,
They are the curteous offrings of the spring.
In midst of which fair Court there is a Fo [...]t,
Of Christall streams, where oft a Goddess wont,
With diverse Damsels, Goddesses I think,
Because their beauty hath such power to link
Men to their love, for sure such Heav'nly faces
Ne're sprung from mortall; ne're from humane races [...]
But be they as they are, in that same Well
They us'd to bath, the Statues there can tell,
Chlamidias shrines th' are call'd, and strong de [...]ence
That were erected at her going thence.
Which story if you'l please but to admit
And bless the ground so much, as here to sit
(Fair Lady) 'tis not tedious, wee'l relate
The Tragick ends, and tell the heavy fate
[Page 22] There lies intomb'd, we will in ev'ry thing
Present to you the figure of the spring.
Time slips too fast (said Sepha) and my way
Is long, I cannot well admit the stay
To hear it told, but since you say 'tis short,
I'l linger time to hear out your report.
Then thus: Our God hearing what Heav'nly shapes
Haunted those groves, and with what store of grapes
It did [...]abound; said rise and lets go see,
Perhaps it is a dwelling fit for me.
Whither being come, and having took a view
Of each delight, what pleasure might accrew
By dwelling there, said lets begin to build;
The ground is fragrant, 'tis a pleasant field
With odours drest, Marble shall be our stone,
Cedar our Timber, the Foundation
On yonder hill, yon hill that will be proud,
To be instil'd the powrfull Bacchus shroud.
At this the Goddess laught, and in a scorn,
More sham'd and ruddy than the blushing Morn
Escap't from Tytans arms, doth nimbly rise,
While pale revenge sits trembling in her eyes,
Ready to ruine those that dare presume
To view, much less to touch her hallow'd room;
She girts her armor on, and to her side
Her quiver, full of bloody arrows ty'd,
In her left hand her bow, and with the other
Tearing the grapes from their beloved Mother;
Tramples them on the ground, and in a rage,
(For so it seems no treaties could asswage
Her furious wrath) Bacchus said she, thou Clown
So shall I trample thy Imperiall Crown.
How durst thou (vilain) dare to touch this Isle?
And with thy nasty carkass to defile
[Page 23] My holy place? (Egregious drunkard) how
Durst thou presume t'offend my Virgin brow?
What recompence art able to bestow?
Or how wilt thou my powrfull wrath o're-goe?
How wilt thou my destroying anger miss?
Or what requitall shall I have for this?
Thy death I will not work lest it be known,
I so much goodnesse to thee should have shown
In slaying thee, t'would be as bad disgrace,
Should it be known that thou hast seen my face.
Thou happy of this favour maist rejoice,
My damsels scorn that thou shouldst hear my voice,
What a vile stain, what laughing there would be,
Should the world know I daign to speak to thee.
How shall I Combate then? or thee expell
From the society of this blest Well?
See how these Roses at thy boldnes blush,
Those flowers dye which thy proud feet do crush.
See how the trembling Lillies stoop a low,
Grow pale and droop, for fear thou wilt not goe.
The Birds no more will sing while thou art here,
These silver streams doe murmur plaints for fear
Thou wilt their drops defile, the very skyes
Since thou cam'st hither have withdrawn their eyes.
And since thou hast this flowry place defac't,
No more we shall of their sweet favour tast
To cherish us, here is a spacious way,
Be packing then or at thy perill stay.
Vile words against a God, who smiling said;
Here will I live, [...]and thou shalt be my maid:
Thy maid said she, to do thee service then,
With this weak arm, and these shall be thy men,
Sending him showrs of arrows, which invade
His Nurses hearts, and there a Tavern made.
[Page 24] Bacchus at this grew wroth, his rudy face
Where the best beauty us'd to have a place,
Grew pale, and pale: Bellona now said he,
Be thou propitious to my Sov'raignty.
What spitefull God hath sent these mortall shapes?
Wicked devourers of my sacred grapes;
Nor enmity alone against the fruit,
Will them suffice, who seek to spoil the root.
Fair Girl he said; think'st thou I dread thy power,
Dare mickle Fortune on my pleasure lower?
My Father guides the motion of the year,
His dwelling is beyond the middle Sphere.
Heav'n is his palace, where his power's known;
Power waits on him, Elisium is his own;
My mother's of no base nor mean descent
With whom all Graces had their Complement.
And though shee's mortall, yet her pedigree,
Portrays in brazen lines her memory;
From worthy Cadmus, whose descent doth spring
From old Agenor the Phoenician King.
How dar'st thou then revile my holy fire?
I am a God, and can withstand thine ire?
Can these thy threatnings then make me the worse?
Or dost thou think thy arrows can have force
To pierce my powrfull skin [...] Fond foe forbear,
Th'are fit'st for Cupids use, by Styx I swear
A secret influence hath my honor sav'd,
I have in L [...]the lake my body lav'd.
This said, his leavy javelin up he takes,
At sight of which the fearfull Goddesse quakes,
He turns him back to his devoted train
In whose each hand a Thirsis did remain,
Whose fiery valour never was withstood,
Good was their courage, and their valour good.
[Page 25] Forbear said he, let not your anger light
On these, so far unworthy for your fight,
What stain shall we endure? when it be said,
So many Hecatompil [...]ns have made
War with a silly maid? what though she strive
Through haughty pride our honor to survive?
Vrge not her fight who cannot manage it.
Fie, are these subjects for your valour fit?
Forbear I say, and let your wrath be kept,
For those who have our ancient honors swept
Into a dirty lake; let it suffice
This moutain shall our Orgies memorize.
With that another showr of darts she sends
From nimble arms, whose multitude extends
All o're the Army which our God had there,
Enough to move a valiant God with fear;
So thick they came, that like the Ev'ning cloud,
Or like an Arbor, or a Leavy shroud
Remaining long, they might have caus'd a dearth,
They kept the courteous Sun from the dark earth.
Go too said Bacchus, let all pity fade,
And fight on now, we now shall fight i'th' shade;
Then gan a desp'rate war, but being divine,
No harm was done, the greatest harm was mine,
Till fair Antigone, alas too rare,
Too young alas, alas too Heav'nly fair
To leave this haven, exchang'd her mortall hue
And leapt to Heav'n, I saw her as she slew.
A wound she had, nor was there any place
But that alone, but that which could deface
Her rudy cheeks, her lips that oft did shove
Life to the hearts of those that saw them move,
[Page 26] And thus it chanc'd,
The sto [...] Haemon Antigone.
Haemon the fairest boy
Of Thebes City, would go sport and toy
With Cupids darts, and Cupid being blind,
(And Love you know when vext is oft unkind)
Pull'd them away, Haemon would him withstand,
And as he held, he chanc't to race his hand.
This being slighted gan to fester in,
And having got a newly welcom'd skin,
Began to fester more; it being small,
And of small pain was pitti'd not at all,
By him I mean, who as it seems delighted
In this new pain; and that's the cause 'twas slighted [...]
Now was it grown unto a doubled height
His brest within, and with a nimble sleight
Began his heart to bore, when he o'recharg'd,
Could not suppress that fire which now inlarg'd
It self with larger flames; it kist his heart,
And he kist it, like one loth to impart
Some serious thought, from his o'reburthened brest,
And yet detaining it can find no rest.
Have you not seen the H [...]liconian spring,
Send her beloved streams a wandering
The vale below, who ready to fulfill
(Though murmuring for grief) their mothers will,
Glide on apace, yet oft with watry eyes,
Look t'wards the place where their blest mother lyes;
While she with crooked bublings doth complain,
Now calls them in, then thrusts them forth again.
So was't with Haemon loth to lose the bliss,
The pleasing joyes he hop't to reap from this
His new intended life, also unwilling
To dispossess himself of those distilling
And gratefull honours, from Diana came,
Due only to the lovers of her name.
[Page 27] In both perplext alike he sits amaz'd;
( Symptomes of Love) and o're the vaileys gaz'd,
Starts up, sits down, admires with foolish joy
The fruits thereof, detests as much th'annoy
The same ingenders, having 'fore his eyes,
The sad examples of the miseries
It hath produc't; Leanders heavy fate,
Makes him eschew it now as much with hate,
As e're before he to it zealous was,
Whose Tragedyes are unto him a glass.
In this extreme, what will not Venus doe?
He studies how, and can already woe.
Admit said he, the winged boy would send
Into this place the picture of that friend,
I best could honor, should I be approv'd
Or no? for yet he knew not whom he lov'd;
Or should I chance of that fair chance to chance:
Could I in lovers phrase my love advance?
Say Cupid, or if yet thou think'st I cannot,
Make tryall, and if too much she disdain not,
Thy book Ile quickly learn, before the morn
Descry our blots, there's none a workman born;
And at our next encounter I'l so gain
Thy approbation, there shall not a stain,
Deface my quill to make my study faulter,
Whole showrs of Myrrh I'l pour upon thy Altar.
Thy Altar shall with saffron streams appear,
And I with yellow garments will be there;
There will I be to see thy service don,
The Oaths betroth'd by thy beloved son,
On high Hymerus hil, and ere the same
Had flown from Haemons sacred breth, there came
A Lady by, nor onely one there was,
Yet had there been no more, she did su [...]pass
[Page 28] All beauties could have come, Antigone
Whose face from sable night did snatch the day,
And made it day, what need I shew the same?
I know'ts enough, if you but know her name.
Antigone came thither, thither came
Blind Cupids Love, and there the good [...]y frame
Of Natures pride, whose beauty can procure
Each wink to make, each love spectators sure.
Three sisters they, but one of all the rest
More fair and lovely was, and far more blest
With Natures gifts, and that was only she
Whom men alone did call Antigone.
Her cheeks bedeckt with lines of Christall veins,
Were like that rudy blush Au [...]o [...]a gains
From Tellus breath; whose odors doe incroach
O're flowry fields to welcome her approach.
She came with such a Majesty and Grace,
As if the Gods in her all-conquering face,
Had kept their Parlament, the Milky way,
Running Meander-like with crooked stray
From her white chin, lead to that hill which yields
A prospect o're the fair Elisian fields.
Her upper garments were of milky hue,
And under them a coat of azure blue;
Some stars of Gold there were, and those but small,
Were like the shour Phoebus let on her fall.
The blew seen through the white, with that fair showr
Seem'd like a cloud that did inshrine a power.
Her hair not loose as some do use to wear,
Ribonds of Gold were proud to tye her hair,
And so delighting held it up so hard,
Lovers from favours of it were debarr'd.
Each step she took, was like a vertuous way,
Or path where her distressed Lovers lay:
[Page 29] For as she went casting her eyes aside,
Many admiring at her beauty dyd,
Of all the gestures that her body had,
With one especiall gesture she was clad;
And that was this, oft as thou us'd to walk
Into the groves to hear the small birds talk,
Antigone thy praise, thou oft was us'd,
(I think by some diviner power infus'd)
To ravish men, often was thou indu'd
With that sweet grace which each spectator ru'd,
A carelesse winding of thy body 'twas
Reeling, and nodding as thou by didst pass,
Like frisking Kidds upon the Mountains seen,
Or wanton Lambs that play upon the Green.
Then wouldst thou leap from bank to bank, and rise
Th' Iocastaean body into the skies.
While Zephyrus better to help the flee,
Would flie beneath, but 'twas thy Heav'n to see.
Then wouldst thou swing abroad thy tender hands [...],
At whose pure shine, each eye amazed stands,
And with thy finger beck, which gave excuse
To lovers, saying thou call'dst, but twas thy use,
This Haemon saw, ev'n as the smiling ground,
With various-colour'd flowers her temples crown'd;
She crops a rose, and why so did she seek,
There was a purer Rosie in her cheek;
But (Lord to see) putting it to her nose,
What purer beauty could there be then those?
Like Corall held in her most most pure hands,
Or blood and sickly milk that mingled stands.
The pale-fac'd Lillie from the stalk she tears,
Ev'n as the Lillie, so Narcissus fares,
Sweet Crocus from his weeping root she twinds
And him with his beloved Smilax binds.
[Page 30] Nor Hyacinthus must this favours [...]lie,
Who with the Cyprian Anenomy.
After she had retir'd into a shade,
Of these disc [...]lour'd flowers a posie made [...]
Then lying down [...] (for sleep began to play
The wanton with her eye-lids as she lay)
She slept; not seeing Haemon who still kept
Out of her sight, or else she had not slept.
Then gan the Silvan warblers to renew
Their pleasant notes, with all the merry crew
Kind Spring affords, each striving best to keep,
Their untaught quaver, lull [...]ng her asleep.
Her Posie to her left hand she convey'd,
And on that hand her weary head she laid;
Her right hand had the office to employ
A safeguard to her brest, where Haemons eye
Stood ready fixt, softly he would have stole
The Posie thence, but each wink did controle
His bold attempt, at last with ravish'd joy,
That Fortune op't to him so fair a way
To so divine a mark, he gently laid
His trembling lips to hers, and softly said,
Ye Powrs be thank't, and if such power ye have,
As there's no power but what is yours, ô save
Your servant, ô permit not her disdain,
T'acquaint my heart with just cause to complain [...]
Still let her sleep, rob me not of this bliss,
Still let her sleep, e're I this favour miss,
Camelion-like I'l live upon her breath,
It Nectar is, and will preserve from death.
With that she wak'd, and seeing there so nie,
An unknown guest, she rose and gan to flie
Abash'd she would have spoke, but too much fear
Caus'd it so softly that one could not hear
[Page 31] Whether she chid or no, Great Queen said she,
Who art rewarder of Integrity,
Let me not be defil'd; this Haemon heard,
And would have answer'd, but he was debarr'd.
By her ensuing voice which might inflame
Cold Neptunes bosome, if but heard the same.
She views him well surveys with curious eye
His face, * who with like language doth reply,
A face she saw, the face she sure had known
But that she did compar't with was her own,
Of beauty pure, too pure she thought it was,
To be the picture of a humane face,
Those speaking looks, that Grace and Majesty,
Far better would befit a Deity.
To whom she said, but what I must omit,
Since I am ignorant, nor is it fit,
To let my thoughts into those secrets pry, which they deny,
For had she not been curious of her will,
She n'ere had whisper'd, n'ere had been so still.
But Haemon thus,
Lady your looks a Tragick tale unfold,
I fear the end before I hear it told,
Why should you tremble so? or be affraid
Of him in whom your power is display'd?
Remit this boldness that I did intrude
Into your sacred Grove, ô fair exclude
Not my complaints from your still honor'd praise,
Lest sable night give period to my dayes.
Peace said Antigone, shall ev'ry grove,
Where babling Echoes dwell witness your love?
[Page 32] So much I heard, and saw her prettie look
Shew him her face in which there lay a book
By Cupids finger wrote, while he o're joy'd,
Kist as she spake, and with her ribonds toy'd:
He took her by the hand and softly crusht
Sweet balm from thence, at sight of which she blu [...]
He would have sav'd the same, but of it mist,
She would have spake, but as she spake he kist.
Then met his hands about her tender wast,
So Iupiter when Danae he imbrac't,
And such like toyes they us'd as lovers use
While a pure kiss (as if they would infuse
Into each others brest their souls) was given,
For Haemon vow'd by all the Powers of Heaven,
No impious thought that honour should molest,
Which was ingraven in his loyall brest.
And that he was from all deceit as free,
As he desir'd to finde Antigone.
Goe then said she, 'tis but one lingring night,
Our bodies part, but ah, they parted quite.
For she towards Diana took her way;
Where then in Camp Dianas virgins lay,
Ready to give our God their strong assault,
Where she was slain, Oh, 'twas her Haemons fault,
For he belike that Cupid had implor'd
Which some call God, that favour to afford,
Through his beloveds brest with his keen dart,
To make an easie passage to her heart.
Which Cupid to fulfill did open lay
A hole through which a Iavelin took his way.
At this she starts, revenge my death she cry'd,
Haemon my love, Haemon farewell and dy'd.
At this disaster Dian did repine,
Hold, hold said she ( Bacchus) the battle's thine.
[Page 33] The hill I'le leave, yet e're I take my way,
Permit that I by yonder spring do lay
My Virgin dead, which yeelded, there she laid
Her corps, and over them a Statue made;
It stood upright, and looking t'wards the East,
The blood ran trickling down her wounded brest,
And on each side her sisters statue stood,
With weeping clothes wiping away the blood.
This being done Diana left the place,
Fears making furrowes in her virgin face,
Her Sisters left to let her body lye,
But since their Statues did accompany
Her tomb, they took their way, having don this,
To yon Casperia where her Temple is.
Now Tytan weary of that sable bed
Night did him lend, towards Aurora [...]led,
When Haemon weary of slow-footed hours,
Oft wisht the morning, which come, each cloud lowrs [...]
The windes spake loud, and little birds were mute,
For Sol had cloth'd him in a mourning sute,
The morning wept, but what it might foreshow
Haemo suspected not, sweet Winds did blow
No more, the Powers themselves with heavy eyes
Gave a consent to weep her Tragedies.
Straight to the place appointed there to meet,
He hi'd, time lending wings unto his feet,
He calls his love, Antigone he cries,
Why art so slow to meet him who relies
Vpon thy faith, more than upon his own?
Then speaks unto the Trees, have you not known
Which way she went? or hath she not bin here?
Is she too slow? she is too slow I fear,
[Page 34] Himself replies, and like a Tiger flees,
With raving eyes, enquires of all he sees.
The fairest Rosie that the garden bred,
Saith he, hath now forgot the Mother bed
Of its first birth [...] I feare it hath been pulld
By some unluckie hand, whose drops have lulld
It in a bath of Mildew, or hath been,
Cause of mishap, cause of some deadly sin,
Else why should Phebus shame to show his face?
And creep behind a cloud, lest some disgrace
Should taint him of conspiracy; or why
Should Coelum's vesture yeeld a Sympathy
Of griefe? or why should shrill complaining cryes
Of Ecchoes strive to peirce the Azure Skies?
Wherefore do little Birds forbeare to sing
To Amphiluche, and her praises ring
Along the vallies? Why do Lillies fade?
Or why do Roses yield a ruddy shade
For their late sickly leaves? ther's some mishap,
Hath sure enforc't the Fatall Nymphes to crap
Their still still brittle threads, the virgin signe
No more I see's belov'd, but doth repine,
The custody thereof for thrice five years,
And that's the Infants time; the Cypresse fears
To bud, lest in pale hours it should be torn,
And cropt lamented Herses to adorn.
What this Eclipse, what this cloud might presage,
This blushing Earth presenting now a stage,
I cann't conjecture, unless it should be
A Theatre to act a tragedie.
With these, and such like words, he vents his Soul,
Of those o're burth'ning maladies, and foul
Conjectures, which such torments did in [...]lict
Vpon his heart, enough even to convict
[Page 35] Him of a sincere love, which like a wind,
Hurries him to the Spring, there there to find
His Mistris statue, O unhappy eyes
Of mine, said he, that view the obsequies
Of my dear love; what did not Haemon say?
He beats his brest, endeavours to allay
His scorned life, and from his head he tears
Whole handfulls of his hairs.
(Ye sullen Gods.) what mov'd you to divide
Her Soul from hence; distracted Haemon cryde?
Seek'd yea for some revenge? tis true alas,
Because her vertues did your vertues passe.
Ye Fatall Nymphs that hurry on the threads
Of our weak lives, and cut it in the midds
Of our best time, what moved you to be
So envious against Antigone?
But since your Powrs have made me so accurst
By her sad death, ye Powrs now do your worst;
Yet help me first to weep before I die,
For my Antigone an Elegie.
With that he took his pen, and having wrote
Her heavy dirge with a lamenting note,
He laid him down upon her Tomb, and praid,
Then with a Sphear a speedy passage made
Towards his love, ev'n to whose throne he cryd,
Make room for me my love, so sigh'd and dyd.
At this mischance the Fatalls did repine,
And turn'd his blood into a Columbine,
Which still retains his nature, in three days,
It gains its prime, and in its prime decays.
His body then reposing on her urne,
The Gods did to a Marble statue turne,
Whole head upon his weary hand doth rest,
And looking stedfast on her wounded brest,
Surveys the blood, that blood with watry eye
Which leavs her brest to turn t'a Tulippie.
So Haemon t'wards Elisium did flie.
But e're he went he left this Elegie
Vnder her feet ingraven, on which be
The lively praise of dead Antigone.
Ravisht with Necta breathing from those dales,
Where Zephirus in all his worth remains,
I past th' Arabian desarts, and the vales,
And thence I jorney'd o're the Scythian plains,
I jorney'd thence, and in Diana's bowers,
My eyes bedew'd me with distilling showers.
I sate me down to think upon my loves,
The thought of which proceedings made me weep,
Vntill the warbling chanters of the groves
Lull'd me into a sweet and pleasant sleep.
Me thought I sported on th' Are [...]dian mountains,
And then I sate me by Minerva's Fountains.
Sitting and musing by those silver streams,
Where babling Ecchoes whisper'd forth my mone,
As if awakened from some glorious dream,
The Muses shew'd me on a marble stone,
Character'd lines of gold, whose triple layes
I coppi'd out to prattle forth their praise.
Aspire to honour her whose glories such,
Nature hath given that artificiall face,
No Muse nor Goddess can delight so much,
Excepting her who is her chiefest grace;
Oft so the Dove a whiter Turtle brings,
And from the self same root, a fairer flower springs.
Some say the fairest Cupid being mov'd,
Mourn'd as he went, and thinking on her [...]pin'd,
Intirely seeking, seeking her he lov'd,
Till too much gazing on her made him blind,
He call'd her Vesta, and to prove the same,
Erected up a Trophee to her name.
Durst I but tell the world how much I love her,
Omitting nothing that I could express,
Rapt in those Heav'nly joyes that seem'd to hover,
Only to crown her with their sacred bliss;
Too long I should upon her praises dwell,
Hymnes are unworthy of her worth to tell.
Symethis shows how far her voice exceeds
Musicall charms, whose sacred breath doth sink
Inchanted hearts, and where it stayes it breeds
The sweet Nepenthe which the Gods do drink.
Having their love, they make her what they can,
Equall to them, too Heav'nly for a man.
Many that view her sweet Elisian face
Admiring stand, as if some silver hook
Ran from her eyes to tye them to the place,
Tempting the Gods to read the am'rous book
Her cheeks inclose, while every wanton air,
As proud to kiss her, sporteth with her hair.
Sestos injoy'd so beautifull a Lass,
Me thought her equall could not eas'ly be,
If yet with Hero she compared was,
'Twas not fair Hero that's so fair as she,
Her face bedeckt with beauties sweet adorning [...]
Exceedeth far the blushing of the morning.
Yet see how Fate hath stole her Soul away,
And wrapt it in the fair Elisian rest,
Slow time, admit me here no longer stay,
Till blest with her, I never can be blest;
Receive dear Love into those Azure skyes,
This soule who whilome to thy bosome flyes.
So much for this now for the cause we weep,
(Fair Lady) know Bacchus is fall'n asleep.
The nature of the Spring we have declar'd,
So have you of Dianas battell heard;
At this she sigh'd, and as she gently praid
For some revenge, the Satyres grew affraid:
The winds spoke loud, Dian in choler burn'd,
And each of them cleaving to trees, she turn'd
To Ivie, whence it still is twinding found,
And Bacchus nurses are with Ivie crown'd.
Thus Fortune, (whose continuall wheely force,
Keeps constant course, still keeps unconstant course)
Bequeath'd her harme; and Se [...]ha with amaze,
Tript o're the plains towards that sacred place,
Casperia nam'd, and as she thus did hie,
Trust me Arcadius came riding by,
He look't on Sepha, oh what good it wrought
To her, who with her earnest eyes besought,
One ravisht word to ope those lips, but they
Lurk [...] still in glorie [...] garden as they lay.
At this she sigh'd, ô how she sigh'd at this,
Farwell said she, and if I needs must miss
Of these fair hopes, yet shall my tender mind
Accuse thee not, thy horse did prove unkind,
To carry thee so fast; thu [...] with this thought,
And such like meditations, she was brought
[Page 39] Vnto the Temple now with Roses strew'd,
Then to the altar with sweet balm bedew'd [...]
Where when the Rites and Ceremonies done,
She read this superscription was thereon.
Those that Idalia's wanton garments wear,
No Sacrifices for me must prepare;
To me no quav'ring string they move
Nor yet Alphaean musick love,
Theres no perfume
Delights the room,
From sacred hands,
My Altar stands
Void and defac't,
While I disgrac't,
With angry eyes
Revenge the cryes
Of you who to my Altar hast,
And in my lawes take your repast;
Pursue it still, the chief of my pretence
And happiness, shall be your innocence.
After sh'had read what vile reproach and stain
Her Queen indur'd, what just cause to complain
Hung on her brest, by an aspersion thrown
Vpon her Damsells glories, and her own,
She sighes, and through enough and too much sorrow,
Disdaines to live, for true love hates to borrow
Art to bewail mishap, and as she fainted,
Alas too much unfit, and unacquainted
With grief, she sighing said with swelling eye,
The root depriv'd of heat, the branches dye.
Then gan her sense to play the Tragick part
Of Fate, and Atropos joy'd in her art.
[Page 40] Each thing she saw (as all were proud t'advance
Themselves to her fair eyes) now seem'd to dance,
And turning round, the Temple where she stood,
To her wet eyes presented a pale flood.
While she with scrambling hands seeking to take
Hold lest she fell, fell down into that Lake.
Where strugling still, with many pretty dint
Her curious hand did give the earth a print,
For Sepha's sake, which print the earth still keeps,
Of which wee'l speak a while, while Sepha sleeps.
A foolish Prince (not wise because he vow'd
The story of Eramio and Amissa.
Virginity to dwell within a cloud)
And so much honor to her did ascribe,
Many had thought he had receiv'd a Bribe
To vaunt her praise, and Laurellize her name,
His mouth and he were Trumpets to her fame.
I say a Maiden Prince was lately there,
Whose custome was twice five times ev'ry year,
Cloth'd all in white, and stain'd with spots of black,
A yellow ribond ty'd along his back,
To offer Turtle doves with silver plumes,
And strew the place with Aromātick fumes.
He was a Prince, born of a royall blood,
And being nobly born, was nobly good;
Nor onely good he was, but stout and wise,
(Save that this fond opinion vail'd his eyes,)
Else he in ev'ry action was upright,
And free from vice, as sorrow from delight.
Of Courage good, for valour oft had bound
His Temples up, and them with Laurell crown'd.
Beauty lay lurking in his Magick face,
Worthy of praise since it chose such a place;
Those ruddy lips, those cheeks so heav'nly fair,
Where Love did play the wantou with his hair,
[Page 41] Did witnesse it, and witnesse this his line,
I found ingraven ore his golden shrine,
By some beloved hand, whose pen doth speak,
(Though willingly his praise alas to weak.
[...]o here he lies, inshrind with his own s [...]e,
Whose virtu [...]'s gone abroad to tell his name.
This Prince returning home by those dim lights,
After he had perform'd the sacred rites
Of his pure zeal, for night came peeping on,
Whose sable face had thru [...] the weary Sun
Beyond the Northern Pole, whether it was
To hide her fault, and bring his end to passe;
Or whether twas to view his sacrifice,
She stealing came, or t' keep him from the eyes
Of those destroyers tha [...] about did gather
To steal his life, or hast distruction rather,
To me tis not reveal'd, but sure it is,
To sure alas, Conspicuous fate was his.
Could Heaven permit the deed? or give consent,
(Who should be just) to the accomplishment
Of this nefarious act? could Phaebus eye
Be dazled so, or yield a sympathy
To this rebellious inhumanity?
Better had he renounc't the vowes he made,
And spent his days under some gloomy shade;
Better had he in flowry fields abide,
And lead his flock by purling Rivers side;
Better had he bestrid the fomy waves,
Where Pactolus his weary body laves;
Yea better far he nere had been allide
To Dian's Laws far better had he dy'd.
[Page 42] And die he did, did death commit a sinne?
No, yet when first his arrows doe begin
Vntimely death to force, tis often said,
His sulphur breath hath the sweet spring decaid.
He was but young, the girdle of the year,
By which our humane actions do appear,
And so we live and dye, had nere imbrac't
Thrice three times twice his young and tender wast,
Scarce could he stand upon the joyfull ground,
And crop those blushing cherries which he found
Vpon their infant trees, yet envious eye,
Conspir'd to end his perpetuity.
And thus it was, as young Eramio came
From Dians temple (for so was his name)
Amissa, who had oft desir'd to free
Her brest of that hell-knawing jealousie
By her conceiv'd, for this Amissa had
Bin with the beauty of Eramio clad,
In a supreme desire towards his love,
Oft with her letters did she strive to move,
With Cupids lawes him to retain alliance,
Till he, who scorn'd obedience gave de [...]iance.
This could not cool that hea [...] which had inspir'd
A longing hopes to that which he desir'd,
She sighs, and weeps; she sighs and laughs, she cryes,
And in a rage doth heave towards the skyes
Her feeble hands, she studies how to tempt
Him to her lure, (lovers are oft exempt
Of modesty) and in a rage doth go
Towards her inke, (as lovers use to doe)
And frames this letter, which I chanc'd to meet,
Ah me, twas young Eramio's winding sheet.

Amissa to Eramio.

I Heard how elder times enjoy'd the bliss
Of uncouth love, Fame the Historian is,
Men whose heroick spirits scorn to bend
Their gallant necks to any servile hand,
Whose beauty could command as noble eyes,
I, and as many as these Azure skies
E're shew'd thy face, to view with a desire
Their glorious parts, and viewing to admire;
Yet these in whom each God have plac [...]d an eye,
To make a shrill and pleasant harmony
Of all their glories in one sound alone,
Yet these so far have their affection shown,
With sword and lance to make their faith approv'd,
Though as thy self not half so well belov'd.
How canst thou then disdain this humble [...]ute
Of a pure love? how can thy pen be mute?
Many detesting love [...] and scorn his name,
Yet with their pens will certifie the same
By answer, that they may that harm prevent
Of future hopes, for Silence gives Consent.
Shall still unkindness overflow the brim?
Leander did to fairest Hero swim,
But I must come my self, and void of good
To strengthen me, must make my tears the [...]lood,
And when I come, thy Tower so fast is barr'd,
Thy supp [...]ts weak complaint will not be heard;
What is the cause thou dost affection scorn?
Shall base contempt those lovely browes adorn?
Am I too mean? look what I want of i [...],
So much my loyall love shall make me fit.
[Page 44] Let not thy thoughts accuse me cause I sue,
For true love clad with vertue needs must wooe;
Nor let thy Answer show I am refus'd,
But use me now ev'n as thou would'st be us'd.
Amissa.
This mov'd Eramio much, who (worthy Knight,)
As ignorant as free from Loves delight,
Like purling Quails, who ev'n now are secure,
With pleasant tunes are train'd unto the lure
Of the deceitfull fowler, so was he
As this his Answer will a witness be.

Eramio to Amissa.

(FAire Queen) that favour which you pleas to give
To my unworthinesse, shall make me live
Renoun'd, when so much love you do bequeath,
Blown by the bellowes of your flowry breath,
Shall fold me in your armes, do not conceave
Twas scorn, or want of love that made me leave
My Answer untill now, Amissa no,
And 'mongst your other vertues please to know,
Twas that excessive humble love I had,
That would not linke your honour to so bad,
As your Eramio.
This faire Amissa saw, what sweet content
To her it brought, let those whose time is spent
On Cupids Study know, the same I leave
To them alone, let them alone conceave.
It was not long (though lovers think it long)
E're young Eramio went, (new love is strong)
[Page 45] To see Amissa, where ('tis open said)
There was a private contract 'twixt them made;
This being nois'd, (as Fame will quickly spred)
Amongst his friends, how fondly he was led
By loves Alarms, with letters they did strive
Dianas holy fiers to revive
Within his brest, and that to love alone,
From Venus free, whereof this letter's one.

Fluentus to Eramio.

BE not so serious, striving to commend
The blaze of Beauty, sometimes let a friend
Partake of your well tuned notes of worth
Which solely to your self you warble forth,
In some retired shade, do not adore
A boy for God, let others harms before,
By his deceit, make you at last be wise,
It was for something Cupid lost his eyes.
Love is a thing deceitfull, and will charm,
The wounded heart unto a further harm,
Such are th'allurements of the boy, to stain
The vertuous mind and make destruction plain.
What desp'rate ends to many do ensue,
And in their blood their guilty hands imbrew,
To thee 'tis known, let them a warning move,
If thou desir'st continuance of our love.
Fluentus.
Even this Eramio read, and being mov'd,
In that his friends despise him cause he lov'd,
In loves excuse whose arrowes he did kiss,
He sate a while, and then returned this,

Eramio to Fluentus [...]

RApt with Ambrosian favours of her love
I well may serious strive, when Tempe grove
Delights so much to whisper forth the prayse,
Of my sweet love, with Heliconian lays.
How can my Muse be dumb? or cease to sing
Of faire Amissa? when each silver spring
And cooling arbor to report her fame,
Dictates my Muse in ecchoing back her name;
If she but daigns to beautifie the aire
With her sweet breath, her golden knotted haire
Receives a thousand complements of love,
From wanton Zephirus, enough to move
Conceiv'd delights, so joys he when he finds
How much her Nectar-breath perfumes the winds.
If she but coverts in Pathimne bours,
To hide her from those sweet distilling showrs
That come to kiss her from their cloudy throne
Of vapour'd mists, those Pearls finding her gone
Lament and die, when they have lost the sweet
They mist, yet some will stay to kiss her feet.
Why will you then disswade me from that chase
I have begun, when ev'ry private place
Records her praise? nor think I am so stupid
In stead of higher powers to honour Cupid;
In all things ther's a mean, I will be warnd
By others harms, for since I have been scorn'd
By some, the next shall teach me to be wise,
And shame mishap; poor Cupid lost his eyes,
By gazing so much on the love I honour,
That all the eyes he had he spent upon her.
[Page 47] Glad is Amissa when my Muse repeats
[...]er friendly looks, and then again her threats,
[...]Gainst those that bid me cease to tell her blisses,
Sweeter than life, and half so sweet as kisses.
[...]f therefore serious friendship may advise you,
On still, for if you cease, your love denyes you;
And if another chance to see her face,
Take heed, twill draw him on to win the race.
Eramio.
Which when Fluentus read, and fully found
The depth of his affection, and his wound,
This he return'd,

Fluentus to Eramio.

REceive with this my thanks, and prosp'rous fa [...]e
To your proceedings, love instead of hate,
Kindness for coyness, Venus sweet embrace,
And Iuno's kiss, with all the pomp and grace
That Hymen can afford, then joyfull I,
Will come and sing your Epithalamy.
Thus far my wishes, but if counsell may
Be took as kindly, boldly then I say,
Trust not the winds, they are as false as fleet;
As fleet as am'rous, kissing all they meet,
Without exception: Be not credulous,
What Groves doe whisper is suspicious;
Ask but Narcissus, and he will declare,
Eccho's a wanton, onely empty air,
That doth but mock, the mists you say that meet
To court your love, do but bemire her feet,
[Page 48] And not adorn them, Temp, and the groves
Are now forsook of shady leaves, and loves;
Flora for shame resideth in the earth,
Vntill the Spring doe give her a new birth.
In speculation of your Mistris eyes,
If Cupid lost his sight in any wise,
Beware of yours, for so it well befits,
Lest with your eyes you also lose your wits.
Cupid they say's a God, and dares commence
A sute with Iove, Apollo had no fence
Against his weapon; Thus conclude I then,
If Gods do fail, there are no hopes in men.
Reflect on this, you say you have bin scorn'd
By some, therefore take heed you be not horn'd
By others, for this Proverb is both known
And true, an evill seldome comes alone.
Run not too fast, although you see her face,
(Love will beguile, Iove did a cloud imbrace,)
Lest when with pain you traverst have the ground,
You win a prize is better lost than found.
Fluentus.
Eramio stood amaz'd, so quick a change
Should hurl about occasions to so strange
An intercepted plot: O Heav'ns said he,
Can this delusion spring from Amity?
From enmity it comes, Fluentus knows
A true affected heart admits no shows
Of wav'ring thoughts, to cloak a reall sign
Of occult things, of harmonies divine:
The world I know, ev'n as the dwellers use it,
Is pregnant full of sinners that abuse it.
But let them live, while I in faith involv'd,
Fluentus, doe by this make thee resolv'd.

Eramio to Fluentus.

REports of Gratulations to retain
Me for your vowed servant are but vain,
For prosperous gales may drive me more your debtor
Through Neptunes fomie floods, to love you better
For this pretext, Epithalamium like,
The mirror of which influence doth strike,
That Epithesis to my humid sense,
That young Leander like, I banish hence
Foolish dispaire, when such an easy price,
Favour'd by love, may win a merchandise,
Richer than Cholchos pride, such power and force,
Have your Platonick lines, to make a course,
That once seem'd tedious, when it was begun,
Pleasant and short to those that needs must run.
Thus far my thanks, your counsell being had
Kindly, and seriously, of one as glad
As may be, when he finds a friend will say,
And botch his lines, to make an hower a day;
Trust me the winds are not so false as fleet,
Nor amorous, nor kiss they all they meet
Without exception, those be foolish winds,
Which Bore [...]s like blusters on all it finds.
There is indeed a breath that takes delight.
With his obdurate busses to affright
Chaldei met, come from Lavinium dales
In love's disgrace, but these are not the gales
My Muse reports of, tis a pleasing aire,
Which only sits, and nestles in the haire
Of my dear love, which like a feth'red rain,
Circuits the Globe and thither comes again,
[Page 50] Witness the heads of those Aeolin streams,
Whose bubling currents murmur forth the dreams
Of Nymphs, and Satyres, which acount the groves
The ardent Salopia for their loves.
Ardent Narcissus mist the love he sought,
Yet, foolish boy, what ere he wisht he caught,
He lov'd himself, and when himself he misses,
The eccho's mock him for his foolish wishes,
(Amidst such Hero and such [...]hisban choices)
Thrusting him farther with their wanton voices,
To deeper griefs, mounted on th'highest tops
Dispair could grant; those clear and silver drops,
Which only lingred time to kiss she sweet,
The innocent, the pur [...], and heavenly feet
Of my faire love, amaz'd him to behold,
For what they touch't they straitway turn'd to gold;
For shame Queen Flora daigns not to appeare,
Abash't to se [...] a fairer Flora here;
Nor Cynthia did more chastity embrace
Than she, nor Venus a more lovely face,
Whose radient eyes that kindle Cupids fire,
Are Cos amoris, whetstones of desire.
Then strive not this intire knot to undoe,
For I can love thee and Amissa too.
Eramio.
This by the one wrot, by the other read,
Stopt Letters mouthes, and sudden Parly bred,
In which dispute Eramio did haste
To publish proofs, but in his proofs was cast.
O dear Fluentus, said Eramio,
In whom my soul revives, by this I know
Thou art upright; so will I be upright,
No more the wicked boy shall taint my sight
[Page 51] With his deluding parables, I hate
His idle lawes, and at as high a rate
Esteem Diana's worship, as before
I ever did, and her alone adore;
And will you then neglect that lovely chase,
( Fluentus said) you so much did imbrace?
I will said he, and if Eramio live,
No more I will my youth and honour give
To foolish love; Idalia's son I bid
Thy laws adue; and so indeed he did.
Which when his love, the faire Amissa knew,
How all her wished joys abortive grew,
She watch't a time, even as Eramio came
From sweet Casperia, Dian's sacred flame,
And there by force, love conquering did move her,
By force to make Eramio her lover.
Eramio starts, mistrusting even as reason
Her self would do some new intended treason.
What cause said he hath urg'd you to this plot,
Against my life, (ye men) I know ye not?
About to strike, the faire Amissa cryes,
O [...]old thy blow, for if thou strik'st she dies
Whose death thou seek'st. And came the cause from thee
Eramio said? let this thy glory be
Thou worst of Women, that thou hast receiv'd
Thy death from him, whose hand hath thee bereav' [...]
Of a polluted soul; when thou shalt come,
'Fore Rh [...]damanth there to receive thy doom
For this last act, lament thy self, and houl,
In that thou hast been tainted with so foul
An ignominious stain; could thy base hear [...]
Permit fruition to this dev' [...]ish art
Of base conspiracy? O hel-bred evill!
Hatch't by infernall potions of that Devill
[Page 52] Father to thee, and thine; had I suppos'd,
So faire a frame as thine could have inclo'd
Such hatefull guess within, or had I thought
Thy often flatt'ring messages had wrought
By that black art, from which this harm proceeds,
Or such faire beauty could have mask'd such deeds,
Long since thy soule to that black Cave had fled
Of envious night, and I snatch'd from thy head
Those glorious Anadems thou us'd to wear,
Chaplets of curious flowers I did prepare
For thy bewitching browes, O how I hate
My wicked star, my too too envious fate;
I hate the time that did induce desire
Of love, I hate the fewel caus'd the fire,
I hate my eyes too credulous and kind,
To thy false heart, that strikes thy beauty blind.
And which more honour from thy brest discovers,
To give example to young foolish lovers;
I vow by heaven, and all the powers there be
Therein, I hate my self for loving thee.
His words half spoke Cyandus daughter cryes,
Is this the meed of zealous love? and dyes.
For young Eramio in this plot deceav'd,
Vp from the ground the massie stone had heav'd,
Borne by the fury of a Tyrannous spite,
And as his present anger did invite,
Hurl'd it amongst them, heard you not the sounds,
Of strugling vialls powring from their wounds
Consumed oyle? Amissa's feeble heart
Paying untimely death for his wish't dart
Its purest streams, but lo a sudden change,
Wrought by inspired miracles doth range
There deep amased eares, amidst the throngs
Of their shrill cryes were heard Elisian songs,
[Page 53] Like those when Iove his Ganimed had stol [...],
Gr [...]nting a pleasant convoy to her soul.
Her soul and body gon those Heav'ns to grace,
As too too worthy for this sordid place;
Her heart to manifest the cleer complection
Of her upright, of her unstain'd affection,
Was metamorphos'd to a Diamont,
Which so th'afflicted lover did affront
With visions, dreams, and such like signs, to move
A good conceit of her unspotted love.
Hold, hold, said he, let my revenge alone,
The Gods have wayes enowe, if once but shown,
The time will come, when V [...]us will inspire
Into each scornfull brest tormenting fire,
By nought to be extinguisht, for I know,
If Poets can divine, it must be so;
It must be so, and those who now deride
Her holy laws, and have too much reli'd
Vpon the foolish worships of the Queen
Of Chastity, whose power is still unseen,
Ev'n as I am, so will I alwayes pray,
Shall be perplext a thousand times a day;
This hand, (curst be this hand, and every hand
That rescu'd me, and helpt me to withstand
That glorious yoke my neck should daily move
Vnder Amissa's too respective love.)
This hand no more shall sprinkle the persume
Of Frankinsence, in Dian's hallowed room,
But if it ever an oblation make,
To any Altar, or doe e're partake
In any solemn sacrificers vow,
More zeal and honor shall appear in mine,
Amissa, it shall be upon thy shrine.
[Page 54] These words were stopt, by Menothantes Father,
Who to revenge his Sisters death, but rather
To quit his stock of an abusive crime
Was laid upon the Worthies of the time,
Suppos'd, though false by him, (whereof you have
In this portraite a Copy, which I leave
To your chast eyes, in hope you will permit
A charitable censure over it,
For sweet Eramio's sake) old Pae [...]s son,
Striving to perfect what he had begun,
(To which his bloody heart had bin inur'd)
With his invenom'd dart a death procur'd
To young Eramio, who sighing said,
See, see, unhappy fate hath me betraid.
But while speaks, he to Amissa goes,
Invokes the powers to pardon him, and throws
His body on the blood-besprinkled ground,
Where, when distilling tears had washt her wounds,
Ay me, said he, that this doth us betide,
So kist into her lips his soul, and dy'd.
So much the Cretan lad, with weeping voice
Had told, and was about to tell the rest;
But lest said he (Ladies) the heavy noise
Of her mishap, should your chast ears molest,
A while give respite to my tongue, that I
May gather strength to end her Tragedy.
Finis Libri Primi.
SO far my Childish Muse the wanton plaid,
To crop those sweets the flowry Meadons bore,
Pleasing her self in valleys as she straid,
Unable yet those lofty hills to soar;
But now her wings by stronger winds aspire,
In deeper songs to tune her warbling lyre.
For what before her infant brain declar'd,
Was but a key to tune her quav'ring strings,
Allwaies to have her Instruments prepar'd
To sing more sweet, when she of Sepha sings,
Who from above, even for her virtues sake,
Will shrill my sound, and better Musick make.
Now let me tell how EPIMINIDES,
With weeping voice, and penetrating eyes,
Reviv'd the Ladies, who themselvs did please [...]
By purling streams to wail his miseries,
Who, while the Meads with his complainings rang,
Wiping his eyes, these sad Encomions sang.

THE HISTORIE OF ARCADIUS and SEPHA.
Liber Secundus.

I Told you (Ladies) if your tender hearts
Admit attention, while my tongue imparts
Such heavie newes, how young Era­mio came
With yearly incense, to the hallow'd fame
Of the Alphaean worship, and how fate
Abridg'd his life with nights eternall date.
I told you also (leaving her asleep)
How Sepha's eyes ore-charg'd with tears did weep,
And as she swounded how her curious hands
Did give the earth a print, which print still stands,
To keep her fame alive, but what it was,
Through too much grief my to [...]gue did overpass,
As fit'st, it seems, to be inserted here,
That as my heavy story doth draw neer
Towards her end, so her immortall praise,
Rap't in her sweet Encomions may raise
[Page 58] Conjugall tears from each distilling eye,
Whose praise and fame shall them accompany
With her harmonious voice, I mean the love
Her soul will powr upon them from above.
And that her eyes may make all sighs the fairer,
Her soul will smile to see the love they bare her.
The spices which Eramio had strew'd
About the altar, her wet eyes bedew'd
With sorrowing tears, which daily they did cast
Vpon the same, and made thereof a paste;
Like those congealed clouds which some have given
A glorious title, call'd the walls of Heaven.
So Sepha falling, fell upon the same,
From whose fair hand that fair impression came,
By some swift Savo call'd, for many say
From thence Campanian a Savo took her way,
And there it is where each Campanian maid,
For yearly offerings her vow hath paid
With the Medean draughts, t' revive the fame
Of Sepha dead; Savo from Sepha came:
But that's not all, the print whereof I spake,
Though some affirm 'tis, yet 'tis not a Lake.
For if the spices which Eramio cast,
Dry'd up her tears, and thereof made a paste,
How can a Lake ensue? but this is sure,
There was a corner of the altar pure
From any blot, on this Eramio laid
His Aromatick spices as he praid.
This being turn'd into a past by those
Distilling eyes (which dying seldome close,)
The palm of her fair hand did gently press
[Page 59] The yeelding paste, and as she up it reard,
Like a triangled heart the print appeard,
The fingers standing just upon the heart,
Presented Cupids shafts, which he doth dart
On simple souls, from whence ensues the bloud,
The blood being gon, came that [...]am [...]anian flood;
Thus palm and fingers having shown the love
By [...]upids net intangled, strait did move
T'another form no figure there was seen,
While yet they gaze upon't, the place grows green;
At this they stare, at this a flower up-starts,
Which still presents the form of wounded hearts.
This being seen by Nymphs that haunt the Springs,
Each took a slip, it to their Mansion brings,
Where being set, it's now in every grove,
A pretty flower, and call'd the L [...]dy-glove.
Now let me tell of Sepha, and her hap
That did ensue, while she in Fortunes lap
Lies lull'd asleep, (sleep had her sense bereav'd)
(And chie [...]ly for the love she had conceiv'd
Of her Arcadius) bethinking hard,
Either he is of charity debarr'd,
Or linkt t' anothers virtue, and surmising
Hee's not to be imbrac'd [...] waking and rising,
She found her self by him to be imbrac't,
Who, being present at her fall, did haste
To hale her breath again; those eyes that wrought
Confusion first, now more confusion brought;
Having Arcadus kist, she thinks some dream
Deludes her wandering sense, in which extream
Rapt with conceit of this her present good,
Her greedy eyes with ardent wishes woo'd,
That Heaven, in which her present hopes remain'd
A worlds continuance, and she had obtain'd
[Page 60] What she desir'd, had not the winged boy
Vnbent his bow, with period of their joy.
Yet something to her hopes he did admit,
To whet the heavy sacrificers wit;
While young Arcadius with trembling hand,
Felt how the pulse, as if at Deaths command,
Sounded a loud Alarm; fair Heav'n said he,
In whom all grace and vertues planted be,
Why will you suffer that
grief [...]
infernall hound?
To dare to come, to give this heart this wound?
Vse that celestiall power, the powerfull Gods
Have giv'n, that grief and you may live at odds.
I know those eyes, one wink from those fair eyes
Have power to banish hence all miseries
Are incident to man so rare a gift
Did nature find, when onely but this shift
T' amaze spectators she for you had left,
For know when Nature fram'd you she befreft
The world of all perfections, to make
You of divine, and Heav'nly good partake,
As well as humane, that there might agree
In you, of every grace a sympathy.
So said, the blushing damsell with delight
Of this new friend, did with her eyes requite
His too soon ended speech, O Heav'ns she said,
That have respect to me unworthy maid,
And daigne this good to me so oft desir'd,
Direct me so, that e're I have expir'd
This perfect bliss, and am depriv'd the same,
I may enjoy the knowledg of his name.
Grant this (ye Gods) to me, impatient, till
I know his naame, his Countrey, and his will.
Then did she pull her scarf from off her face,
And putting by her hair with that sweet grace,
[Page 61] That Venus us'd, when to Adonis eyes
She did expose her love, Sepha did rise
With such sweet looks as cannot be exprest,
And said, these favors Sir, and sigh'd the rest.
Well, thought Arcadius, something there remains,
And tis some weighty cause that it detains,
(Grant Heav'n) that as I hope, so it may prove,
By her unpollisht sentence to be love.
For he in dreams and visions oft had seen
A Lady, who for him alone had been
Tortur'd a thousand wayes, with blubbred cheeks,
She oft had said, receive her love, who seeks
No other life, than for thy owne deserts
T' enjoy thy presence, and admire thy parts.
She being now recover'd sate her down
To view Arcadius, whom the Priest did crown
With wreaths of Lawrell, which he alwayes wore
For the upright affection that he bore.
Then to the Altar went he, where he praid,
While Sepha overcome with passion, said,
So loud that he might hear, were I the Saint
To whom he prayes, sure I would hear his plaint.
At this Arcadius look't upon her lips,
And blest them that they let that message slip;
Then with his pure devotion onward goes,
and on the Altar throwes
A winged heart, which lately he had got
For sacrifice, about the heart was wrote
These next insuing lines.
The purest peice of Mans delight,
In whom his life, and Love consists,
Whose softness keeps from gloomy night,
Which nought can peirce, but Amatysts [...]
Is here presented on thy Throne,
Bedew'd with tears of faithfull vowes,
Presenting thee what is thy own,
The best to please thy virgin browes,
To fan thy face with her cool wings,
And fly the faster as she sings.
Which I by chance,
The better hi [...] sad story to advance,
Have Copi'd forth; about the wings there was
Some other Lines, which I will not let 'pass,
That (Gentle Ladies) ye may not have cause,
Of his devotion to detract th' applause.
Fly swift my thoughts, and through this sacred fire,
That by those sweet distilling drops above,
So may I live, and scape the Dart,
And flourish like those Flowers it fills
First let V [...]luptas weep,
C [...]st [...]lio [...] liquor's free,
[...]'re I forsake
Or yet deny
Mount up to her, [...]et her to me retire,
She may infuse to me religious love,
While her sweet breath saivs up my heart,
With Nectar sweet, which one frown kils,
And Gloria fall asleep,
Medea bitter bee,
Thy praise to make,
Thy [...]i [...]tie.
These and the like Arcadius presents,
Mingled with deep, and choice perfuming sents
Of many bitter sighs, he turnd him round,
Salutes the Priest, the Altar, and the ground
Whereon it stood. then to faire Sepha turns,
Who while her heart with strange affection burns,
Meets him with nimble eyes, he gently bends
A Trembling Cringe to Sepha, who attends
With her impatient eares that happy houre,
When the wish't Sun shall show that gracious flower
She loves unknowne, till a sigh doth bewray,
As if the prologue for a following play,
These next ensuing words, and such they were,
They did requite the time she stayd to hear.
Harpoc a [...]es may clame a vow I made,
The Go [...] of Silence
(Faire Lady) under his beloved shade;
When my insipient years too too blame,
With rash attempts to Lauralize the fame
Of [...]upids power, invested that disgrace,
Which still should be a shadow to my face.
Then, cause one way did lead to both their Towers,
He took hir Magick hand, and with whole showers
Of tears first washt them, then with a faint kiss,
Dri'd them, and walking homeward told her this.
The story of PHAON and SAPPHO.
In Lesbos famous for the comick layes,
That us'd to spring from her o'reflowing praise,
Twice famous Sappho dwelt the fairest maid
Mit [...]lin had, of whom it once was said
Amongst the Gods, a sudden question was,
If Sappho, or Thalia did surpass
In Lyribliring tunes, it long remaind,
Till Mn [...]mosyne the Mother was constrain'd,
[Page 65] To say they both from her begetting sprang,
And each of th' others warbling Lyra a sang.
There was a Town in Lesbos [...] now defac'd,
An [...]issa nam'd, by Neptunes arms imbrac'd;
There Sappho had a Tower, in it a grove
Bedeck'd with pearls, and strew'd about with love;
[...]u [...]othean [...]branches overspred the same,
And from the shadowes perfect odors came.
To dress it most there was a purple bed,
All wrought in works, with azure mantles spred,
The tables did unspotted carpets hold
Of [...]yrian dyes, the edges fring'd with gold.
Along this grove there stealing ran a Spring,
Where Sappho tun'd her Muse, for she could sing
In golden verse, and teach the best a vain
Beyond the musick of their sweetest straine.
Here while she sang, a ruddy youth appear'd,
Drawn by the sweetness of the voice he heard,
Sing on said he (fair Lady) let not me,
Too bold, give period to your melody.
Nor blame me for my over bold attempt,
(Although I yeeld of modesty exempt
[...]n doing this) and yet not over bold,
For who so hears the voice, and doth behold
The lips from whence it comes, would be as sad
As I, and trust me Lady if I had
But skill to tempt you with so sweet a touch,
Assure you, you your selfe would doe as much.
She answers not, for why the little God
Had touch'd her heart before, and made a rod
For one contempt was past, she view'd him hard,
Whose serious looks made Phaon half affeard
She was displeas'd, about to goe she cryes,
Stay gentle Knight, and take with thee the prize,
[Page 66] To thee alone assur'd; the boy look'd pale,
But strait a ruddy blush did make a veil
T'obscure the same; while thus he panting stood,
A thousand times he wisht him in the Wood
From whence he came, and speaking not a word,
Let fall his hat, his javelin and his sword.
She being young, and glad of an occasion,
Stoopt down to take them up; he with perswasion
Of an half shewing love, detains her hand
From it, and with his fingers made the band
To chain them fast, (now Love had laid his scean)
And draw'd the tragick plot, whereon must lean
The ground of all his Acts; (great Deity)
When thy foreseeing nove-sight can descry
Things which will hap, why dost thou train their love [...]
With pleasant musick to deceitfull groves?
See how the love of some with equall weight,
By vertue poiz'd, live free from all deceit,
To whom thou help'st with thy beloved darts,
And link'st their true inviolable hearts,
Why deal'st not so withall? are some too hard?
Or hath inchanted spells their heart [...] debarr'd
From thy keen shafts? you Powers should be upright
Not harm [...]ull Gods [...] yet thou still tak'st delight
In bloody ends, why did'st not wink at these?
And send thy shafts a thousand other wayes
That more deserv'd thy anger? or if needs
Thou would'st be doing, while thy power proceeds
In lofty flames one flame requires another.
Why did'st thou wound the one, and not the other?
For (Lady) so it past between the lovers,
That after little pause Sappho discovers
Those kindled flames which never can expire,
But his contempt adds fuell to her fire.
[Page 67]Immodest Girl he said, why art so rude
To woo? when vertuous women should be woo'd,
And scarce obtain'd by wooing, O forbeare,
Sweet Sappho cry'd, if I do not prepare
A just excuse by none to be deny'd,
Never let me— so sate her down and cry'd.
He mov'd for pity more to see her tears,
Than toucht with any loyall love he bears,
Sate down by her, while she dispairing, laid
Her eyes on his, her hands on his, and said,
Ay me, that a herbs for love no cure afford,
Whose too too jealous actions will accord
To nought but semblable desire, that lost,
What pain more vile than lovers that are crost
With hopeles hopes? they say'ts a b God that work [...]
The same, but sure some Devill tis that lurks
His opportunity how to destroy,
And tear the Soul from her aspiring joy.
Now to prevent occasions that may fall,
Is serious love, which will all harms appall,
Neglect whereof by many is deplor'd,
Ay me! that herbs for love no cure afford [...]
Now for the fault wherof I am accus'd,
O blame me not, for 'tis no fault I us'd;
For if affection spurs a man to love,
[...]Tis that affection needs must make him move
His sute to us, and wee, when we affect,
And see the like from them, seem to neglect
Their scorned sute, but so our frowns appear,
Mixt with a faint desire, and carefull fear
It should displease them, that we may unite,
A carelesse love, with an intire delight.
[Page 68] Again, when men doe see a curious stone,
The onely hopes of their foundation,
How often doe they slight with scornfull eye,
Neglect, disgrace, dispraise, and spurn it by?
The more to move and stir up an excesse
Of disrespect, and make the value lesse.
Even so we handle men, who still endure
A thousands deaths, to train us to their lure,
And were we sure they could not us forsake,
Wee'd dally more, even more delight to make.
Even so as men are caught, even so are we,
When we affect those that our service flee;
What kind salutes, imbraces and constraints
Ought we to use? lest our untun'd complaints
Vnpitied die, and we with sorrows scope,
As free from pleasure die, as free from hope.
Thou art a stranger Pha [...]n to this place,
But I have known thy name, and know thy race,
a Eumenion stories do thy honor tel,
Istria Eumenion knew thy Parents well,
Whose Fathers head upheld the weighty Crown
Of Illyris, which none could trample down,
Though many envi'd, free from harm he laid
His bones to rest, with whom the Crown decay'd.
Now fate to shew a modell of her power,
On thy Illyricum began to lower;
Thy b Houshold Gods, acquainted with the cryes
Of thy decaying subjects, cast their eyes
This way, and that, twas yours O Gods to bid
Deniall to sedition that was hid
[Page 69] In Catelinian brests, and to surcease
The period of your domestick ease.
In this uprore (what fruits seditions bring
May well be guest, for every one was King)
The better sort prepar'd for thee and thine
A waftage over the beloved Rhyne
To Lesbos this; thou hadst not long bin here,
But private envy did thy walls uprear,
And did beguile to all posterity
Thee of thy glory, and the Crown of thee.
These things thy houshold Gods (to Lesbos brought)
Foreseeing good, have for thy own good wrought,
That thou maist gain a greater Crown than that
Illyrius had, and be more honor'd at
Those Festivalls, when yearly thou partak'st
Of Triumphs, which to Chimney Gods thou mak'st.
This was a work divine, and happy too,
(If any happiness from grief ensue)
That thou wast here conceal'd, for many vow'd,
And thundred forth the fame thereof aloud,
Of thy ensuing death, while thou wast still
In pupill age, and knew'st, nor did'st no ill,
But 'twas the Providence of you that dwell
In lofty Heav'ns (ye Powers) and to expell
All harm from him who must your Lawes maintain,
That when his perfect strength he doth obtain,
He may reward their deeds that envy bred,
And maugre those that to rebellion led.
Here wast thou brought, here hast thou daily staid,
And (while thy better subjects sought thee) plaid
Beguiling time away; perhaps you'd know,
What mov'd the powers to permit thee so
Vntimely ruine, know they did anoint
Thee King of famous Lesbos, and appoint
[Page 70] This means alone to make their power approv'd,
And bring thee here of me to be belovd.
To this faint speech he intermission made
With heavy sighs, and then (fair Lady) said,
The Heav'ns have rob'd me of succeeding bliss,
And hid me from those means to grant you this
I most desire, behold my love I dye,
My trouled soule methinks doth seem to flye
Through silent Caves and Fields, two pleasant gates
Ope wide to take me in, wherein there waits
A Crown of gold, neither by arm or hand
Supported, but of its free power doth stand,
Now sits upon my head, these things I see,
And yet I live, can this a vision be?
About to stir, O stir me not he cries,
My feet stick fast, Sappho farewell, and dyes.
While yet he speaks, my Parents wayward fate,
Must be accompanied with the date
Of my despised life, a fearfull rind
Of Citron trembling redd, doth creeping bind
His not half closed speech, his curled hair,
Which gallants of his time did use to wear
Of an indifferent length, now upward heaves,
Towards the skyes their gold re [...]ulgent leaves.
Sappho at this exclaims, laments, invokes
No Power nor God, but seeks by hasty strokes,
As a fit sacrifice unto her friend,
From her beloved brest her soul to send.
A while she silent stood, belike to think,
Which was the safest way for her to drink
Of the same cup her Phaon did, at last
(As evill thoughts will quickly to one haste)
She saw the Spring that ran along the Grove,
'Tis you fair streams must send me to my Love.
[Page 71]Behold, dear Love, with what impatient heat,
My soul aspires to mount to that blest seat,
Where thou blest sit'st, stretch out thy sacred hand,
And with safe conduct draw me to that land,
That we may taste the joyes the vallie yeelds;
And hand in hand may walk th' Elis [...]an fields.
This said, she turns her face unto the Tree,
And kissing it [...] said, if thou still can'st see,
Behold how irksome I enjoy that breath,
Which still detains my meeting thee in death:
With that she saw his sword, which she did take,
And having kiss'd it for the owners sake;
Salutes her brest with many weeping wounds,
Then casts her self into the Spring, and drown'ds.
There is a Hill in Paphlagonia, nam'd
Cytorus, whither this mischance was fam'd;
My self was present there when many rude,
And base untutur'd peasants did intrude
Into our a games, they were, as since I heard
Those base insulting Traitors, that debarr'd
Wendenlands Crown from righteous Phaon's browe,
These (cause the Gods had quit them of the vowes
They made to work his death) with open cries,
Proclam'd their thanks, and sent them to the skies.
But Venus, who in constant love delights,
And ev'ry perfect amity requites,
Exil'd their joy, each one perceives their arms
To branches grow, each one partakes the harms
Of their deserts,
The [...]x tree.
a tree there is which bears
His summer hue, and it in winter wears,
To this she turns them, that continuall green
Might manifest their never pard'ned sinne.
[Page 72]This done I saw a Knight of courage bold,
Cloth'd all in argent armor, strip'd with gold,
Who vow'd, the death of one of us should pay
For her mishap, to crown the heavy day
With Anadems from his victorious hand,
I too too over forward, did demand
What was the cause; discourteous Knight he said,
Dost not repent thee that thou hast betraid
That honor'd Lady? while I ignorant
Of what he meant, he said tis not the want
Of Launce, shall keep thee safe, till I have shown
Thy just revenge; so threw away his own.
But with his sword he taught me what to doe,
And I my self had sword and armor too
Ready to answer him; the fight was long,
And had been longer too, till I too strong,
With an unlucky blow, ô wer't ungiven,
Betraid his life, and sent his soul to Heaven:
Twas [...]lphitheon, who of long had lov'd
Sappho, now dead, whose sute I oft had mov'd
In his behalf, now hearing of her fate,
Either increast in him suspitious hate
T'wards me, or furious else did frantick strike,
Amaz'd, unkind to every one alike;
Dying he knew me, and bewaild his losse,
My friend Arcadius said he, the crosse
Of this my present state, ought not to be
A blot to stain our former amitie
I die, let my remembrance have a place
In thy just heart, it shall be no disgrace.
Though envy stole my sense, ô 'tis no blot,
No fault at all was mine; I knew thee not
When here I met thee first; My dearest friend,
I die, love the remembrance of my end.
[Page 73]So said, he went away, while I distraught
For grief of this inhumane wicked fault,
Vow'd never more to move a Ladies heart
Nor for my self, nor for anothers part.
Arca [...]ius ceast, and Se [...]ha's turn was now.
Who said (belov'd and worthy Knight) that vow
You eas'ly may infringe, and yet be blest.
A rash conceit was never held the best.
You say it may be, and it shall be so.
Arcadius said, chiefly for that I know
When virtue, beauty, and intire delight,
Our nere dissolv'd affection doe unite
The fault appears the less the glorious eyes
Of the All-seeing power do despise
Continuall grief, a and [...]ove himself erst whi [...]e
Carousing bouls of wine is seen to smile.
Fair Lady know, as yet to me unknown,
Your beauty and your virtues have oreslown
My willing yeelding sense, a secret fire,
Continually increasing through desire
To honor your admired parts, doth move,
By nought to be extinguisht but your love.
b Love is a thing full of suspitious care,
By every churlish winde blown to dispair.
Silent Canius dy'd for love, not known
To her, who did his pure affection own.
I therefore ope my heart before your eyes,
Not doubting but you'r kinde as well as wise;
Not doubting but you'r wise as well as kinde.
Fair Sepha said, your worth I know may find
Far better Ladies, that may more content
Your love than I, and then you will repent
[Page 74]You of your deed, which still will you mole [...]t,
A rash conceit was never held the best.
Though all the beauties in the world were one,
Said he, and I by right might seize upon
The same, yet would I for thy vertues sake,
Aspire no better fortune, than to make
Thee my beloved wife, * where ere thou art,
What ere thou dost, the Graces grace impart
To thy sweet self; this hair, this lovely hair,
If loose, as thou dost often use to wear,
Ostends thy freer beauty, or if knit,
It shews rare wisdome is inclos'd in it.
In fine they are the chains that link desire
In ev'ry brest, and kindle Cupids fire,
For which soever way thou dost them wear,
They fetch thee honour, and thy honour bear.
To me she said you please to speak the best,
O thought you of me so I should be blest,
Not that my fond conceit desires to bee
Linkt with each pleasing object that I see,
But of a long retain'd affection, I
Desire the bonds of perfect amity;
And since you please to honor me so well
With common friendship, that in all should dwell,
Tell me the name of that thrice blessed place
Injoyes your presence, and from what blest race
You draw your line; me Arathea claims
Said he, my much unhappy Parents names,
[Page 75]Were Capaneus, and Evadne, they
Of good report and noble progeny,
My Father, led by just revenge, was chief
Of those that wrought distressed Thebes grief,
Who having wed my Mother then but young
And of a pleasant face, whose Parents sprung
From Iuno's brests, unto those wars was call'd;
Where after many skirmishes befall'd
To him this sad mishap, when various fights
Had clos'd up many with eternall nights,
He furious, and impatient of delay,
Resolv'd a quick dispatch, and with that day
To end the wars, a Ladder he devises,
Of cords compos'd, by which he enterprizes
Apparent means to scale the walls, but lo,
About to clime, some wicked hand doth throw
A stone upon him; yet i'l clime he said;
But while his soldiers c [...]e unto his aid,
For all their hopes upon his worth reli'd,
He gave directions for the wars and dy'd.
My Mother too too heavy for his harm,
Did help his wounded body to unarm,
When all his friends to honor him the more,
Were present, and his ruine did deplore.
a But while the fire consumes with greedy flame
His [...]lesh, my Mother runs into the same;
To shew when virtue shrines an upr [...]ght heart,
Death never can united honor part.
In this Campania where my Castle stands,
I was instructed by the carefull hands
[Page 76]Of Callias, till understanding bad
Revenge be done for wrongs my Parents had.
I mov'd the wars afresh, what means I made,
With all-perswading reasons to perswade
The soldiers aid, is this
O You, said I, belov'd for upright wayes,
And fear'd of all for valour that obeys
Your conqu'ring arms! I purpose not to add
Words to your virtues, nor my speech to cladd
With flattring robes, my just revenge shall cause
A triumph for that never scorn'd applause
Of your victorious fame, which daily mov'd
Towards your names, O you so well belov'd!
Your noble friend my Father, to whose shrine
You pay your yearly tears, is now divine,
He sorry for that harm which would betide
Your never conquered arms i [...] that he dy'd,
Dy'd loth to leave you, now there is a time,
To heap revenge against them for that crime
Those Coward traytors acted, when they slew
Your noble friend my Father; let us view
The cause that moves us to display our war,
O is't not meritorious, and far
Beyond the price of their despised blood?
Your wisdome knowes your losse, our cause is good;
Too good alas for them, I know your love
Still, still, remains alive, which makes me move
Those val [...]ant hearts which alwayes you injoy'd,
To seek revenge 'gainst those that have destroyd
Your noble friend my Father: This, o this
Makes me require your help, nor greater bliss
Can to your dying tombes more honour gather,
Than to revenge your noble friend my Father.
[Page 77]O you so well belov'd, I need not show
The sloth [...]ull Thebans fearfulness, you know
The manner, and the matter of their war,
How through disorder, and discord they jar
Amongst themselves, your swords their Towers shake
At the remembrance of your names they quake.
When in the skirmage you your valour send,
To court their necks, and shew their lives their end,
Bethink you for whose sake you fight, and let
His wonted valor and remembrance whet
Your all-commanding swords, what greater gain
Than their subjection can you obtain?
Honor from thence will spring, their wealth & glorie [...]
By you enjoy'd, will fill your famous stories
With never-dying fame, and for your merit,
Your Sons shall everlasting praise inherit.
We for revenge, renown, and amity,
Our wars display, they but for liberty;
When we have girt their City with the choice
Of Martiall men, then shall we hear their voice
Come creeping to us, but our ears are stopt
From Traytors mouths, till we have overtopt
(For justice sake, on which we have reli'd)
Their weighty sins, and high aspiring pride.
O you belov'd of all, tis not a cause
Of little worth, nor only for applause
I move you to this War, survey your hearts,
There see his tomb, his wounds, and his deserts
Ever to be admir'd, your noble freind
My Father, whose too too unhappy end
Requires their blood [...] desires no greater bliss,
Than to present his joyfull soul with this.
[Page 78]These and such words I us'd, with me they swore
To fetch the glory which the Thebans wore,
And plac't upon my Fathers tombe, to crown
Him with Heroick conquests, and renown.
With me they went, with me they overcame
The Thebans pride, and brought with them their fame.
Detain'd at wars, I saw you not, till late
Returning home, my ever happy fate
Blest me to hear your voice; My nimble Steed
To gratulate my labour with the deed,
So well belov'd (as if he knew my mind)
Lost me, that you fair Lady might me find.
At this she smiles, while his lov'd tale goes on;
Now since it is your chance to light upon
What was ordain'd your own, debar me not
That service from, which is my own by lot.
While I infolded in your love declare
Those sweet contents in Venus pleasures are.
a For who with more delight can live? What are
Those joyes that may with these delights compare?
She blusht and said, for e're she spake she blusht,
Then from her sweet, but angry lips there rusht
This angry speech, (beloved Sir) I owe
More inward zeal than yet I will bestow
On your lascivious love, and being near
Her Talmos, flung away, and would not hear
His quick-prepar'd excuse, who over-waid
With death-tormenting grief, look'd up and said,
Shall these contempts ore-rule thy virtuous will?
O Sepha, knowest thou whom thy scorns do kill?
Well she goes on, nor looks behind to see
The fruits of her disdain, his Amitie,
[Page 79]But hasted home, by fond suspition led;
(So Arethusa from Alphaeus fled)
Till to her chamber come, she unawares,
(Beginning now to be perplext with cares)
Look'd from a window, from a window spy'd
Her fair Arcadius dead, even then she cry'd.
Her nimble feet had not such power to bear
Her half so fast away [...] as now her fear
Returns her to him, ready to complain
Vpon her fate, her tender eyes doe strain
Balm to bedew his cheeks, till a sweet kiss,
(It seems beloved better than that blisse
The Heav'ns bestow'd) recall'd his sleepy eyes,
Who opening first, straight shut again and lyes
Clos'd in her arms, as if nought more could grace him,
With greater joyes, than when her arms imbrace him:
At length remembrance (usherd by a grone)
Proclaim'd his life; and am I left alone?
He said, then op't his eyes, whose fixed sight
Not yet from deaths imbracings free, did light
Vpon her face, about his voice to raise,
Soft kisses stop his speech, those past he sayes,
Yee Gods, whose too too hasty shafts have strook
Beguiling joyes into my eyes, and took
My heavy soule from that thrice blessed place
Where Sepha dwells, who must Elisium grace,
What yeelds this Heav'n? O would I still might live,
Her presence yeelds more joyes than Heav'n can give;
Invest me with all pleasures that you please
In Heav'n to have, with Canticles of ease
That follow pious soules, they nought will yield
To me but grief; while o're th' Elisian field,
And gloomy shades, continuall steps I take
For her safe wastage or'e the Stygian lake.
[Page 80]These words he spake, taking her face for Heaven,
(In whom the Powers, all powerfull grace had given)
Where still he thought he was, while Sepha griev'd,
With cordiall water from her eyes, reviv'd
His not yet living sense, with greedy eyes
He views her face, who with this speech replyes.
To me 'tis strange, that you (within whose brest
Such rare undaunted strength and wit doth rest)
Through foolish grief should yeeld your sacred soul
To Charons boat, who shall your death condole
So slightly caus'd? shall I? beleeve me no,
I'le rather seek some noble means to show
How much you strive with faint tormenting mind
To raise that heart wherein you lie inshrind.
Should men dispair for once or twice refusall,
Few men would speed, for to our Sex tis usual;
And often, words outstep the carelesse lip,
Which past, repent that e're they let them slip.
Now let this message in thy bosome light
Arcadius, thou art the sole delight
Of this my wretched life, for thee I live,
To live with thee, to thee my love I give.
Preserve it then so worthy to be lov'd,
That of thee alwayes I may be belov'd:
Let no lascivious thought pollute the same,
Which may increase a scandall to my name,
But with unstain'd desires let me be led
By Hymens rites unspotted to thy bed.
Have you not heard young lambs with wailing cries
Lament their dams departure? who still lies
Vnder the sheerers hands? with discontent
Thinking them dead, their sudden death lament?
While they to hinder the bemoning notes
Get up, and pay their ransome with their coats.
[Page 81]Even so Arcadius with attentive [...] care,
Observ'd each word her heav'nly lips did spare,
Still fearing lest some various conclusion,
Should draw his life to sable nights confusion.
But when he heard the full, Ladies I know
You can conceive what streams of joy did slow
In his still honor'd brest, he nimbly rose,
Conjur'd the Air to keep her message close
From babling Ecchoes, to her self he vows
An amrous kiss, and she his kiss allows.
He crav'd remission for his faulty words,
Now askt, and straight remission she affords,
And binds him to the limits of unstain'd
Desire, and with her golden tresses chain'd
His heart from all deceit, with such pure grace,
As ought in ev'ry lover to have place;
To Talmos she (proud of her prize) him ledd,
(For know fair Sepha's parents both were dead)
Where entertain'd with many royall sips
He drunk full boules of Nectar from her lips.
Time hasty to produce the marriage day
Of these impatient lovers, hy'd his way;
And Sepha after many sweet imbraces,
Fraught with conceit, and stuft with interlaces
Of their ensuing pleasure, did permit
Arcadius departure, who unfit
For any service, but the winged God,
To Arathea went, and as he rode,
Oft blam'd orehasty time their joy t'undo,
But prais'd him for the sports that should ensue.
Now was it when the fraction of the day
From sable night had made Aurora way,
When
Epimenides.
I, ambiguous of succeding fate,
Forsook my native countrey for the hate
[Page 82]'Gainst me conceiv'd, me a Minos Country bred
Whose hundred Cities with amazement led
Each eye to view their pride; My Father old,
And I a pretty stripling, did uphold
The staffe of his declining age, with care
I cherisht him, and did the burthen bear
Of his domestick ployments, now it was,
(When all his businesse through my hands did pass)
That once he sent me to attend the sheep,
Where Woods sweet chanters summon'd me to sleep:
Within a Cave of Par [...]an stone compos'd,
I laid me down, I laid me down, and clos'd
My duskish eyes, sure some inchantments kept
The same with Magick spells, for there I slept
Whole seventeen years away; awak'd at last,
I got me up, and to my home did haste,
Not knowing so much time away was sled,
I call'd my friends, but [...]o, my friends were dead.
This known I left b Minoia, and spent
My dayes in Rome, not caring where I went,
Nor what I did; nor there I long remaind,
Cause more mishap was to my life ordain'd:
c Mugiona stands pointing to a way
Call'd d Appia, through which my journey lay;
Nor many dayes were spent before I came
Vnto that Town which e Sora hath to name;
And there a while I staid, a while I strove
To kill those griefs, which never ceas'd to move
A desp'rate end, for that unwisht mischance
Still gnawing on my soul, about t'advance
My sword towards my end, ô stay a while
A voice bespake, let not thy wrath beguile
[Page 83]Thee of succeding joyes; amaz'd I stood,
Not knowing why to save, or spill my blood.
My eyes could shew me nothing, but my ears
Granted a convoy for the sob'd-forth tears
Of a distressed Lady, what mishap
Hath Fortune more, said she, than to intrap
Our joyes, and cut them off? the voice did guide
Me to a little grove, wherein I spi'd
A wretched Lady with torn hair discover,
(O're the dead corps of her beloved lover)
Th'irreparable loss, and hatefull breath,
She did sustain through his untimely death.
Agast she trembled, and with liquid eyes,
Sent with her lovers soul into the skyes,
Prayes that her end may with his end appear,
Or here to have him, or to have him there.
A while I stood, either with fear o'regon,
Or else with grief not able to go on,
Till she with sword tug'd from his wounded brest,
Made passage for her souls eternall rest.
I hi'd me to her, but my steps were lost,
The wound was given; saith she, since we are crost [...]
Of Terrene pleasures, and those joyes do miss,
Our soules shall wed in Heav'ns eternall bliss.
I striv'd to stop her blood, but she deny'd
That any favour should to her betide,
Since she was cross'd in all designes, and said,
If the entreaties of a dying maid,
Sir Knight may move you, grant this last request,
With your own sword give period to the rest
Of him who did my Delithason slay,
O're yon ambitious hill he took his way.
I vow'd their deaths revenge, withall desir'd,
Since she would die, before her life expir'd
[Page 84]Its glorious date, t'acquaint my pitying ears
With her sad story, while whole shours of tears
Imbalm the body dead; alas said she,
You cause me to renew the grief must be
My pasport to his foul, then faintly rais'd
Her weary head: For ever be ye prais'd
(Ye Powrs) that grant me liberty t'unfold
Our Tragick ends, and then this story told.
The Story of Delithason and Verista.
Not far remote there are four little lands,
Rul'd by that a God, who girts them with his hands;
b Statinae call'd, in these my Father dwelt,
Whose alwayes scraping, but nere fill'd hand felt
A mean of Fortunes good, (whether by Fate,
Or fore-ordained to expire the date
Of my distressed life) to me [...]t's unknown,
But wealth (with which those Isles have ever flown)
Heap'd to his hands a still encreasing croud
Of gilded pills, those riches made him proud.
Amongst the other fortunes that he had,
(O whether shall I term it good or bad)
The Heav'ns assign'd him me, Verista nam'd,
Who yet but young, a false report had fam'd
Rare beauty of me; this, ô this declar'd,
Draw'd many Princes that the same had heard,
To try the judgment of their eyes, which fame
By some confirm'd, this Delithason came,
(Not like a Prince, as like a Prince he might,
Because he was a Prince) but like a Knight
With Sword and Lance, but first I'd have you know
My Father amongst many had a foe
[Page 85]Of Gyants race, whose heart enur'd to wrong,
To rapes, and base oppressions had long
Appli'd his strength, and now to torture more
My Fathers brest that life might give him o're,
This quarrell pick'd, he came and did demand
Me for his wife, and cause we did withstand
His wish, with kindled rage from Pluto's Cell,
He shakes his dangling locks, and down to Hell
A journey takes, a Erinnis he implor'd,
And all the Furies which he there ador'd,
T'assist his new found plot, nor yet in vain
They adde their help, with fire they rent in twain
A Town my Father own'd, the dwellers there
Affraid of death, t'abolish quite their fear,
Plastred the walls with brains, their limbs bestrew'd
The blushing streets with streams of blood bedew'd.
To this he adds a mischief worse, and throwes
Blasphemous oaths, on which he did repose,
Vp to b Saturnus son, c the sacred stones,
On which the people laid oblations,
He hurls about the Temple, from the posts
The gold he tears, and in his mischief boasts.
By this my brother, guided by the cryes
Of conquer'd sounds, came staring in, and spies
The honors of Celestiall Gods defac't,
A sling he had, and from that sling did cast
The over hastie stone, and though he well
Could use his sling, yet did his art excell
In managing his sword, now heav'd aloft,
Threatning the Gyants death, said he, how oft
Shall I be vext with too too partiall eye
Of thy outrage? perish with this and dye.
[Page 86]His speech scarce clos'd, d Marfilos smear'd with blood,
A colebrand snatcht w ch. by the altar stood,
And sends it to my brother, 'twas espy'd
By Delithason this, about to slide
Along the Air, with Lance he stopt his hand,
And sent his soul to that infernall land,
Where ghosts with hideous cries indure the right
Of their deserts, cloath'd in Eternall night.
Thus Delithason by the clamors call'd,
And by the Gyants death the same appall'd;
Restor'd to every man his own, the rather
To get (the seldom got) love of my Father;
Who nothing thankfull for so great a favour,
Gave thanks indeed; but with so rude behaviour,
That nought was heard but sighs and pittious moan,
How to regain the harm to him was done.
I must said said he, omit the charge I us'd
In keeping house, by which I have abus'd
My quite-consumed stock; I must omit
The courteous entertainment that is fit
For worthy guess, and so to end the strife
Of sleeping age, with a retired life;
To this the Prince, (whose ever piety
Still lent discourteous acts a noble eye)
Sayes, aged Father your declining head
Should scorn to be to base Rebellion led
Against the Lawes of Hospitality;
Decrepit age should on the good rely
Which she hath done, not on her present wealth,
The souls decay, opposer to her health.
O whither shall I turn? assist me now
Ye ever helping Powers, let not a vow
So firmly made before your holy fires,
So eas'ly be infring'd; but who aspires
[Page 87]To mount the chariot where the glorious Sun
The orb surveys, with pride shall be undon.
And shall I silent dye? Shall this exile
From hopes, the pure bond of my love defile?
Shall my desir'd desires with horrid sound
Of a faint heart increase m'increasing wound?
No, Love must fear no harm, he is not fit
T'enjoy Loves fruits, that hath not firmly knit
A resolution to his hopes, and ty'd
Himself, though oft, yet ne're to be deny'd.
Father, the wings of ever warbling fame
Exempt alone, chatter'd the glorious name
Of your Verista's beauty, 'twas my chance,
When ev'ry Eccho did the same advance
In lofty tunes, to hap into your fight,
And being greedy of so great a sight,
Gave period to all hopes of other beauty,
And did besiege her heart, 'tis now her duty
My pleasure to obey, for Hymens lights
Have linkt our hearts, with honour of those rites
To Lovers due, be willing then to it
Since Fate hath stop'd all means the bond t'unknit.
But if you will not, if you will persever
In hatred to those Princes, that endeavor
To bless their happy lives in blessing her;
I say again, if still you will prefer
Your will before all reason without reason,
As hitherto you have don, there's a Season
Call'd quiv'ring winter, with his milky bride,
Will freez your honor, and abate your pride.
Imperiall I, in fair Zephire sit,
Whom wealthy Caria bounds, and brags of it,
There slowes that paltry gold so much I hate,
I think the more t'impare my quiet state.
[Page 88]Luxurious brat, and enemy to wealth,
My Father said, th'hast got the Crown by stealth,
With it Verista's love, and do'st thou think
My Daughter shall of that stolne honour drink?
First let my hands imbrew their wrinkled skin
In her false breast, first let the spoyle begin
Vpon my off-spring, can thy boasts assure her?
Or the bare title of a Crown procure her
Contented wealth? Say, can so great a name,
As Queen of Caria wipe away the blame
Of disobedience? or release the oath
Of duty? or of zealous care? or both?
Which she (when subject to my tender rodds,)
Made in the presence of the better Gods?
Here Delithason staid his speech, too late,
He said, you vent your nere consumed hate.
The Gods observe your deeds, and though a while
They slack their vengance, tis but to beguile
The Offenders with false hopes; so said, he turn'd
His head about, and on the Altar burn'd
Prepared Incense, strait the Altar brake
In twain, and after a fierce Thunder-clap,
Sweet Musick breath'd, in which a Chanter cry'd,
Thy time's expir'd, and thou art deifi'd.
Amaz'd the people stand, nor yet to whom,
They can conceive this prophecie should come;
No [...] I alas, no, nor my feeble heart,
Fore-thought of this, of this untimely dart,
For so it hapt,
The Gyant.
Marfilos had a son,
(From a corrupted spring ill waters run)
Who (wicked) at his fathers death repining,
Iust as the Sun was to his bed declining,
Observ'd when I and Delithason hy'd
T'wards his Zephire, (for being denide
[Page 89]My Fathers Blessing, privily we got
Away, when careless he observed not)
And passing through this wood, this Bloody wood
(A closet for those that delight in Blood)
The Gyants son a twinded Iavelin cast,
And made this wound you see, that don, in haste
Knowing his dart this spotless heart had sped,
Vnto his home, his fathers den he sled:
About to tell the rest she stopt, and dy'd,
When I by vertue of my promise ty'd,
After I had repos'd them in one Vrne,
Towards Statinae did my voyage turne,
And (lest too long I should delay the joy,
Hasty Arcadius wishes to enjoy)
Stuft up with Ire, I did not long pursue
His steps, before at him I had a view.
Ho! villaine stay, I cry'd, receive the meed,
The Gods alot thee for thy wicked deed,
Stay Murtherer, thy haste shall not prefer,
Injustice before right, stay Murtherer,
While yet I spake, my Lance his shoulders caught,
My Sword beguild him of his head, and taught
This lesson to the world, th'allseeing Eye,
Lets not apparent wrongs unpunish'd dye.
My vow dissolv'd, I bent my course again
Towards a [...]b [...]lla, whose high walls disdain
A rivall in their prid, there is a way
That leads thereto, by which a medow lay,
In it I saw a Knight of Silver hew,
With sword, hold a stout Combat against two
Of fiery looks, I hy'd me to the sight,
Either by force or Treaty to unite
[Page 90]Their various minds, but what can words prevail,
Where bloody resolutions do assail
A spotless minde? no time they would admit,
Through hasty fight, t'inquire the cause of it.
A while I view'd the Combate, till the Knight
In silver armor on the neck did light
Of one of th' adverse side, who unacquainted
With such rough complements, fell down and fainted.
So done, he said, by all the Powers that dwell
In lofty thrones, thy valour doth excell
Thy neighb'ring Princes, but thy unjust cause,
Repugne against the splendor, and the lawes
Of Martiall discipline, content thee then
With this, thou art the happiest of men
In that th' hast scap'd revenge to traytors due,
Do other matters cause thee to pursue
This spite, besides thy false suspect? or can
Thy ever-stain'd affection (which began
And ends with lust, not love) enchant thy sense
So far with stupid blindnesse to commence
Hatred for this? withdraw thy self and yeeld
To me thy life, thy weapon, and the field.
So shall my arms with amity imbrace
Thy neck; where else 'twill shew thee thy disgrace.
No sooner said, but we might hear the sounde
Of trampling horses beat the tender ground
For swifter speed now to us seen, and now
Dismount their Steeds, and to the adverse bow,
Pardon said they (great Prince) that our neglect
Infring'd the Laws of our indeer'd respect.
But when they saw his armor stain'd, and view'd,
His dead companion with blood imbru'd,
They re-amount the nimble Steeds they rid,
(For Marble look'd not paler than they did)
[Page 91]And to the silver Knight their anger bent,
Who with excess of bleeding almost spent,
Held up his hand to me, to me he said,
(For they were three) see how I am betraid
With these unequall odds, no more you need
To move me up I said, fear not, proceed
With your own hands to lacerate in twain
Their conscious hearts, to me your prayers are vain.
I am too weak to shelter you from harms,
Though arm'd, yet I'm unskill'd to use my arms,
But what I am I'm yours, with that our swords
We drew, and blows supply'd the want of words.
While he (most noble and most valiant Knight)
Each blow he took, each blow he did requite
With treble use, awhile they hold us play,
Till overcome, their lives did end our fray.
This done, and all things hist, I thought it good
To stop the conduits of his flowing blood,
When mounted on our Steeds, with gentle gate
Riding toward [...] his home, he did relate
The tragick story thus; I am said he
Arcadius, and yonder Towr you see [...]
Is mine, this Prince whom now we slew,
Hearing what pure unstain'd affection grew
'Tween me, and one nam'd Sepha in her heart,
He came, and did prescribe a double part:
On this our quarrell grew, and what success
In it he had, your valour will express.
Not I, said I, 'twas you your conquering hand,
Your cause, your sword, your strength that did with­stand
Their greedy hopes, the Gods do close their eyes
From impious vassals, and exclude their cryes.
And since you please t'intitle me your friend,
O let my willing service you attend,
[Page 92]And what you think will magnifie your name,
Withall conceive me ready for the same.
'Twas Summer then, and having cur'd his wounds
Call'd out by th' noise of his pursuing hounds,
We gallopp'd o're the plains, now by a Wood
Our way we took, where purple statues stood,
O blesse me here he cry'd, and softly said,
Inshrind in these four pleasant Nymphs are laid.
Then by a Tower, in this said he remains
The fairest flower, the pride of all the plains,
'Tis Sepha's house, the Goddess of my heart,
In whose fair cheeks, Love with his golden dart
Sits sporting, dasht with a Vermilion dye,
Th'are like the blush came from Endymions eye,
When twin-born Cynthia to suffice her will,
Had courted him on sleepy La [...]mos hill.
No sooner said, but Sepha said 'tis true,
If lik'd of you, for Sepha lives by you,
And spying me she blush'd, lovers doe so,
For conscious minds appear by th'outward shew;
All salutations past, she led us in,
Where first our root of ruine did begin:
For such firm bonds of constant amity,
Had link'd Arcadius loyall heart to me,
(Which by our outward actions was not hid,
For never two lov'd better than we did)
That she perceiving how he stood inclin'd,
The more to please and gratulate his mind,
Vs'd me with courteous terms, he discontent,
(Suspition is a tryall eminent
Of true affection) thought some new-born love
'Twards me increast, her tender heart did move
As Helen did to Paris, took occasion,
T' assist her loyall love with this perswasion;
[Page 93]For sitting in a pleasant bower which hung
With various flowres he took a Lute and sung.
See'st not my love with what a grace?
The Spring resembles thy sweet face?
Here let us sit, and in these bowers,
Receive the odors of the flowers,
For Flora by thy beauty wood,
conspires thy good.
See how she sends her fragrant sweet,
And doth this homage to thy feet,
Bending so low her stooping head,
To kiss the ground where thou dost tread,
And all her flowers proudly meet,
to kiss thy feet.
Then let us walk my dearest love,
And on this carpet strictly prove
Each others vow, from thy request
No other love invades my brest.
For how can I contemn that fire
which Gods admire?
To crop that Rose why dost thou seek,
When there's a purer in thy cheek?
Like Corall held in thy fair hands,
Or blood and milk that mingled stands;
To whom the Powers all grace have given.
a type of Heaven.
Yon Lillie stooping 'twards this place,
Is a pale shadow for thy face,
Vnder which veil doth seem to rush;
Modest Endymions ruddy blush.
[Page 94]A blush indeed, more pure and fair
than Lillies are.
Glance on those flowers thy radiant eyes,
Through which cleer beams they'l sympathize
Reflective love, to make them far
More glorious than th' Hesperian star,
For every swain amazed lies,
and gazing dies.
See how these [...]illy flowers twine,
With s [...]eet imbracings, and combine,
Striving with curious looms to set
Their pale and red into a net,
To shew how pure desire doth rest
for ever blest.
Why wilt thou then unconstant be?
T'infringe the lawes of amity?
And so much dis-respect my heart?
To derogate from what thou art?
When in harmonious love there is
Elisian bliss.
Sepha at this was pleas'd, displeas'd was he
To see her smile; leave off thy jealousie
[...]rcadius she said, I am possest
With that firm love, which nere shall leave my brest.
First shall the Sun forget his course to flie,
And Pindus hills shall soar about the skie.
First shall the Roman Eagles lose their wings,
And musick murmur musick without strings.
First shall the Sea-born Goddesse leave the fan
Of ardent love, and turn precisian:
[Page 95]And fearfull Hares pursue the thundring cry
Of Cretan Hounds, and Ovids mem'ry dy,
Er'e I, who to thee do my soul betroth,
Forsake my word, or falsify my oath.
So said, she hangs her lip, and lours her head,
(Lovers are oft asham'd of what they sed) [...]
While he with hymns of joy the debt did pay
Of upright love, and nam'd the wedding day.
Which come, and all things ready, Sepha drest
Her hair, her coats were blew, upon her brest
She wore a Stone of curious art compos'd,
Wherein two naked lovers were inclos'd;
Both striving, till the maid who did resist,
Grew weak, and then he us'd her as he list.
Now Ladies, know; a Prince there was whom fame
Had taken captive with fair Sepha's name,
Who hearing of the wedding day, wherein
Their hands should be linkt, as their hearts had bin;
And hearing of the weakness of the guard,
That should conduct them to the Church, prepar'd
To rob us of her; as you pass the plain,
There is a prety hillock that would fain
Be call'd a hill, behind this hill they hide
Themselves, their weapons, and doe there reside.
Now we in whom no thought of treachery
Had told us of mishap, with jollity
Hy'd to the temple, there, o there the chance
Of base conspiring mischief did advance
It self, dejected us, a horrid voice
Of threatning people sent a hideous noise
Vnto our ears, now to our eys their arms
With glittring shields foretell our following harms.
Vnweapon'd we, for battels are refus'd
On wedding days, and other weapons us'd,
[Page 96]So that the easier they our necks did bend
Vnto their yoke, now had they took my friend
The yong Arcadius and his lovely bride,
The onely prize they waited for, and hy'd
Them on their way, born by the heat of love
'Twards th'one, 'twards th'other hate their speed did move,
When I (ô ne're till then unfortunate)
Saw Tyranny and malice at debate,
Who first should steal away the spotless life
Of my Arcadius, at last a knife,
His unstain'd bosome pierc'd, who dying cry'd,
Let Sepha live, and I am satisfied.
You ravishers said I of others blood,
By this discern if Traytors ends are good,
And with a sword snatch'd from anothers arm,
Cleft one, and said be sharer in his harm;
With that a second, and a third I slew,
And so a fourth, till such a tumult grew,
That after divers blows away they fled,
And left me, as they well might think, for dead.
Mean while Campanian Sepha took her flight
Into a Wood, born there by horrid fright.
Where long she could not stay, by carefull heed
Drawn forth, to know how her known love did speed,
And now she finds, what nere she wisht to find,
With his dear bloud the blushing flowers lin'd;
She sayes not much, lest helplesse words should stay
Her soul too long, but kneeling down doth pray,
Then took the knife by his own blood made foul,
And falling down upon't advanc't her soul.
Awak'd from out my sound, I saw how Fate
Had plaid the wanton, and expir'd their date:
I took their bodies and them both did burn,
I put them both together in one Vrn;
[Page 97]Strait both their ashes, Male and Female grew,
And from the same admired Phaenix flew;
From whence I Prophesie it shall revive
By death, for tis their fame shall keep't alive,
Which growing old towards the Sun shall flie,
And till the Heavens dissolve shall never dye.
Here Epimenides his story ceast,
And bending down his panting bosome dyes:
Whose death the Ladies former griefs increast,
They sent his Soule to Elizium with their cryes,
Vpon whose shrine they wrot his death, to show
From Heaven he came, to Heaven he needs must go.
FINIS.

Hinc Lachrimae, OR THE AVTHOR TO AVRORA:

1
WHy should my pen aspire so high a strain,
A verse to guide, to guide a verse unfit?
Are they the fittest voices to complain?
Admit they be, they're for a riper wit;
Yet you who these unpolisht lines shall read,
Deride them not, they from distraction came,
Let that suffice, my love alone shall plead
For their defect, and shall excuse the same,
Excuse the same, for what from love doth spring,
To lovers only resolution bring.
2
Caelums faire daughter hath bereft my heart
Of those sweet hopes to lovers only due,
Vnwilling she those pleasures to impart,
Lest too much joy should make me cease to rue,
[Page 100]Lest her fair eyes should work that gracious hap,
Which she would not permit I should enjoy,
While I lye lull'd in Fates unconstant lap,
With grief converse, and still with sorrow toy:
For such a gentle pain she doth me send,
As if she would not wish my life, nor end.
3
Yet such it is that I will not exchange
My life with those whom Fortune kind intreats,
And since it is her arrow that doth range
My tender heart, I kisse the rod that beats.
I laugh at Cupid, who is overjoy'd
With fond conceit, that he hath wrought this fire,
But let him be with self-conceit destroy'd,
'Twas not his power, twas my own desire,
Though Venus hood-wink'd son doth bear the name,
Azile's vertue 'twas did me inflame.
4
'Twas thee Azile, of whose loves I sang,
'Tween thee and me among the gentle Gothes,
Something it was when all the valleys rang
Too true, the breach of thy beplighted oaths.
I little thought my willing warbling quill,
With her shrill notes did miss to sing the truth,
But now I finde through too dear gotten skill,
Thou art despiser of my blooming youth,
What there I said, how much thy soul rely'd
Vpon thy faith, these Poems say I ly'd.
5
Else why should I complain of this mischance,
Had it not been contrary to thy vowes?
With tears thou mad'st them, and what furtherance,
Of si [...]es were more, Heavn's ruler onely knows.
Heav'n knows my faith, how I have loyall been,
And have not broke the smallest string of love.
To see my constance will augment thy sin,
How loyall I, how wav'ring thou dost prove,
But twas thy will, that I thy favour mist,
I'm thine, and thou maist use me as thou list.
6
Even as thou list Azile, I'l rejoyce,
And tremble at thy eyes when e're they move;
Command thy will, I will obey thy voice,
Vnless thou bidst me cease to owe thee love.
There pardon me dear love, for such a root
It hath obtain'd in my triangle heart,
That since thou first didst thereon place thy foot,
The pain increas'd, and still I feel the smart;
No pain at all, since it from thee ensues,
And Love, thou maist command them as thy dues [...]
7
Even as thy dues, and what I can procure,
More from my heart, to thee shall be presented,
Yet hadst thou but the tenth part I endure,
I'm sure thy last neglect should be repented;
[Page 102]Thou wouldst be sorry that I have mispent
My time in sighs, for prayers only free,
But pray'rs are killd through too much discontent,
For he that loves can never zealous be.
Tis thee alone must be my gracious Saint,
Gainst thee, and to thee onely's my complaint.
8
How oft have I been subject of thy scorn?
How often kill'd by thy impetuous eyes?
How oft have I the warlike Ensign born
Of thy fierce heart, enur'd to cruelty?
So oft hast thou, after the tyde was past,
Of disrespect, my heavy soul repriev'd
From that dejected state, so oft thou hast,
Witnest with vowes, if vows may be beleev'd,
O that I could thy former love descry,
To reassume thy late humanity.
9
Wouldst thou but think with what intire de light
My soul was carried to those joyes, and whither,
Wouldst thou but think how strong we did unite
Into one bond our mutuall loves together,
Wouldst thou but reconcile thy wandring sense,
And cease t'afflict with thy impartiall eyes;
Wouldst thou but hear the prayer which I commence,
One shour might cherish yet the root which dyes.
But thou art wise, and canst thy worth refine,
Yet use me gently, 'cause thou knowst I'm thine.
10
What though thy birth require a higher place,
Than my low heart is able to bestow?
Admit it doe, yet count it no disgrace,
'Tis my humility that makes me low,
And since I have aspir'd so high a favour,
Which once I had, but now I cann't obtain,
I'l spend my dayes, even with as sad behaviour,
And study most, how most I may complain.
O that my plaints would mollifie thy heart,
And once thou wouldst give period to my smart.
11
What though thy riches ask as high a fortune?
And with thy birth doth bear an equall sway?
O were that all, I know I might importune
A little help, for riches will decay.
Even as thy wealth, so will thy beauty fade,
And then thou wilt repent thee of my wrong,
A secret sorrow shall thy brest invade,
Thy heart shall be as faulty as thy tongue,
They both shall vex, and this shall be the tryall,
One gave consent, the other gave denyall.
12
When tho [...] shalt be of all thy youth depriv'd,
And shalt with ages wrinkled rowes be clad;
When thou shalt sit and think how much I striv'd
Thy love to gain, and what reward I had;
[Page 104]When thy deceitfull promises shall call
Thee to the bar, and there arraign thy thoughts,
When thou with heavy eyes shalt summon all
The harms which thy unkindness in me wrought,
When thou shalt hear of my distracted mind,
Thou wilt repent thee that thou wast unkind.
13
And that thou maist remember thy disdain,
Even these I wrote, that thou mayst read the same,
And there shalt find what just cause to complain
From thee I had, by thy unkindness came;
That so thou maist be sorry for my harm,
And wet thy eyes; for once I know you lov'd me;
O let that love be to thy heart a charm,
But since nor pray'rs, nor vows, nor tears have mov'd thee,
Even these I wrote to shew to future years,
How much Azile thou hast scorn'd my tears.
14
How much Azile thou hast scorn'd my tears,
And hast detain'd that which thou know'st is mine,
Thy heart is his, even to whose heart he fears
No hopes will come, and therefore doth repine
Even to his death, for which way can he chuse
When the remembrance of thy faith shall creep
Before his eyes, and therein shall infuse
A thousand tears, how can he chuse but weep?
O happy yet, wouldst thou this discontent
But call to mind, and in that mind repent.
15
The time will come, when thy beloved face
Shall lose the spring, with which it now is clad,
When thou art old, thou in some secret place [...]
Wilt sit, and think of all the wrongs I had,
Then wilt thou read these my unpolish'd plaints,
The Chronicles of my unpittied cryes,
When thou art old, perhaps thy heart shall faint
For shame, and let one tear forsake thy eyes;
I know thou wilt, and e're thy Sun expire
His glorious date, thou wilt recall thy ire.
16
Though now thy eyes are carried from the wounds
Thy eyes did give, when first my eyes beheld them,
Though now thy ears deny to hear the sounds
O [...] my just plaints, and therefore hast expell'd them,
Yet once before thy Soul shall take her way
Towards those fields, the fair Elisian rest,
Thou wilt be greedy of an howers stay,
To tell the world, how thou hast me opprest.
I know thou wilt, and though a while the shade
Obscure the Sun, at last the cloud will fade.
17
Tell me how oft thou hast with serious voice,
Vow'd for thy love no harm I should endure?
Tell me if erst thou didst not like thy choice,
And with thy vows didst crown our nuptials sure?
[Page 106]Tell me if once upon those blessed Stairs,
T [...] Stairs my thought that guided unto Heaven,
When I surprised by thee unawares,
Had there thy loves assurance fully given,
Or if thou wilt not tell, yet say in this,
If I have spoke [...] or wrot a word amiss.
18
Mistake me not, my pen was nere defil'd,
With any staine, that may thy honour staine,
From all lascivious thoughts I am exil'd,
So shall my pen immodest sense refrain;
Thou art as free, as pure from any blot,
And therefore shalt with Lotus crown thy brows,
If ever thou did'st sin, I knew it not,
Excepting this the fraction of thy vowes,
I vow by Heaven and all the powers therein,
Excepting this, I never knew thee sin.
19
Ye slowry Meads where I do use to sing,
And with complaining notes do often fill ye,
Ye purling streams, where I with quav'ring string,
Make Musick, tell the praise of my Azile,
Ye shady Groves and melancholly places,
Where oft I do retire to sigh my wrongs,
Ye lofty hills that oft hear my disgraces,
To whom I chatter forth my heavy songs,
Let these perswasions now your voices move,
Say if I ever spake against my love.
20
When I with Lillies do adorne my head.
And dress my face by pleasant silver brook,
When I my snowy flock do gently lead,
And guide their steps with willing Shepherds hook,
When I with Daffadill's doe garlands make,
And therewith have my back and arms inshrin'd,
When I to oaten pipe doe me betake,
To tell of my Azile, and her mind,
When I so oft with flowers my hands have drest,
What was it but to please Azile best?
21
The firstlings of my flock to her I gave,
Twice happy flock to send your presents thither,
Thrice happy flock, for she the last shall have,
The last was hers, I sent them both together.
She took them both, and with a gentle eye,
(Where courtesie, and grace together lay,
As loth to rob, yet lother to deny)
She'wd on the hills her willingness to stay,
Blest be the time when first her love I mov'd,
Too silly Shepherd so to be belov'd.
22
Too silly Shepherd, and unworthy too,
That durst presume that fair fruit to attempt,
But since intire affection made me wooe,
O judg me not of modesty exempt,
[Page 108]For though I did aspire so high a taske,
Yet best it is, and best to be commended,
I eas'ly can maintaint't, no help I aske,
Let love and honour joyne, dispute is ended;
I'le mount the highest steps that honour calls,
He falls no lower than the ground that falls.
Qui jacet i [...] [...]err [...]m, non habet unde cad [...]t:
23
And that the easier I may climb the same,
I'le build a ladder of heroick wood,
Each step imbellisht in the purest frame,
Of Corall born in the Tyrraean flood,
That when my wishes have attain'd their will,
And all my thoughts have perfected my art,
That when my cares have rested on a hill,
The only rock of my repining heart,
None may condemn me, for I did aspire
To vertue clad in constant loves atire.
Sidne [...].
24
Yet many will conjecture much amiss,
Because my love so slowly is requited,
Each spitefull Satyre will surmise by this,
Thou hat'st me cause my pains have thee delighted;
But let them please themselves with thought thereof,
And with their wits ascribe their own applause,
I free from anger at their harms will laugh,
For some vex most when none will give them cause,
That when thou seest how loyall I am thine,
Thou may'st conceive the greatest harme is mine.
25
The Morning blush is like Azile made,
Azile's cheeks are like the morning blush,
If faire Aurora please to be the shade,
Why should Az [...]le scorne to be the bush?
Thou art that bush Azile under whom,
My buskin Muse sings free from contrie strife,
Thou art that Lotus to whose shade I come,
To sup my milke, and sport away my life,
That when thou [...]eest my harmless sports excell,
Thou mayst remember once thou knew'st me well.
26
Thou mayst remember once thou knew'st me well,
And did'st not shame t'account me as thy own,
Then loyall love within thy breast did dwel,
And faith, but now no faith in thee is known.
When we in Evenings have the vallies trac'd,
And sipt fresh aire to cloze the hasty day,
When with thy steps thou hast the mountains grac'd,
To see how Hes [...]er hy'd him on his way,
Why wast not carefull then to keep thy vow,
For there thou mad'st me promises enow.
27
And then the Spring of my unstaind affection,
With Roses drest, and Lillies sweetly grew,
Whose ruddie look, gave it a faire complexion,
Till frowning Winter gave't another hue,
[Page 110]But stay thou know'st already why I sing,
And with my heavy verse so gently move thee,
For that alone I did these sonnets bring,
That by these plaints thou mayst perceive I love thee,
For out of nothing, nothing can be brought,
And that which is, can nere be turnd to nought.
28
How can I smother then my long pent love,
Allmost unknown to thee so long conceald?
O you that can assist me from above,
For by your means [...]twas first of all reveald,
Since when my heart in such sure hope remains,
That I will not exchange my part in her,
Not for the purest face the world contains,
For before all her love I will prefer;
And know in their fruition I shall want
Those sweet contents which these complainings grant.
29
Twice hath the Sun drencht in Iberian Seas,
Twice fifty times renew'd his fiery Car,
Since with thy sight thou did'st impart some ease,
And since I spoke to thee ran twice so far,
But yet thou seest thy still dejected friend,
Admits no period to the love he owes,
And though thy absence gives all pleasures end,
Yet know thy presence far more grief bestows,
For this will vex, when one their own shall see,
And yet not dare thereof the owner be.
30
Ay me, when I alone sit and bemone me,
Of thy hard heart, and my unjust correction,
When by my self I sit, and think upon thee,
With what sure bonds I'm brought into subjection,
Then, then my heart, grieving to be restraind;
Beats up a loud alarm, to come to thee,
If when I think of thee I am so pain'd,
What do I then when I thy face do see?
Such is my paine, if paines may be believ'd,
Griev'd at thy sight, and at thy absence griev'd.
31
What though I have transgrest against thy will?
And run as idle wayes as many other?
I am not minded to pursue them still,
If thou no more wilt thy affections smother,
And know Azile that the chiefest cause
Of all mishaps, sprung first from thy unkindness,
It is a statute made in Cupids laws,
Neglected Lovers spend their dayes in blindness,
And so it is, when once depriv'd the bliss
Of constant love, we other blessings miss.
32
And so run headlong careless of our good,
Into all danger that the world hath sent,
But Heaven be prais'd, that I have this withstood,
I never knew what carnall action ment;
[Page 112] For other sins, I know I have a share,
As deep as any that committed sin,
And more must have, I yet cannot forbear,
Such is the state my restless soule lives in,
Such is my state, unless thou dost relent
My dayly wrong, and then I shall repent.
33
If thou misdoubt, as thou mayst well misdoubt,
Because I'm now so wild, and vaine withall,
That should I speed, my love would quickly out,
And I unto my old rebates would fall,
O let the thought thereof no place obtaine,
But banish it, as enemy to good;
Try me a while before I reap the gaine,
Which so long wisht, hath so long been withstood,
Try me I say, and thou shalt me restore,
For verjuyce sweetned once, will sowre no more.
34
Alas my love, what love appears in this?
To omit the cure, which only may procure
Thy Clyents ease? guide not thy love amiss,
Lest thy neglect make thy distruction sure,
And then my blood [...] [...]prinkled on thy Coate,
Will bring a horrid [...] unto thy Soule,
I vow by Heaven that all [...] world shall know't;
There's nothing can [...] resolve controll,
By Heaven I vow, and this the truth relates,
Deny againe, I'le dye before thy gates.
35
But stay complaints, returne unto your owner,
And blame her not, shees free from any blame,
There can no spotted scandall rest upon her,
Tis your presumption, and it is your shame.
But say againe, although you are unfit
To kiss her ears, yet you'l take no deniall,
And that you' l not her plighted troth remit,
But will remit it to a further tryall,
Even to his doom, who will all things destroy,
And there reward her inhumanity.
36
And there reward thy inhumanity
Vnkind Azile, rapt in liquid charms,
Thou canst not with an unstaind Conscience dye,
Vnless thou dost give period to my harms.
Is it thy wealth that makes thee thus refraine me?
As it is thine, so shall it still be thine.
Is it thy birth that makes thee thus disdaine me?
O scorn me not, I come of Noble Line,
For by the Norman Duke our browes were crown'd,
With Lawrell branches, and our names renown'd.
37
Cease then t'afflict, and shew that heart some ease,
Which in offences never gave thee none,
Vnless it was in striving best to please,
Therein indeed it hath been very prone,
[Page 114] And that thou know'st, there's none doth know so wel,
How my poore love did run in full carier,
My dayly presence did my passions tell,
My dayly passions in thy presence were.
O happy time when thy sweet presence gave it,
But now I have most need I cannot have it.
38
Believe Azile, when of thee I think,
As such sweet thoughts are in me very rife,
I'm ready of prepared bane to drinke,
Or any poyson that will end my Life;
And still because, my still consuming heart,
Injoyes no rest, wisht rest I never have,
But of turmoyls and troubles I have part,
But tis not trouble that a Soul must save,
A sweet content doth lead the way from wrath,
He safest lives that quiet conscience hath.
39
But I have none, nor never must have any,
Vnless thy eyes do shine upon my face,
Amongst thy noble virtues which are many,
O let this favour thy poore Servant grace;
Since thou disdainest to bestow thy heart
On me so far dejected, so unworthy,
Tell me what cause it is, and twill impart,
Ease to those dayly pains I suffer for thee;
So shall my soule be quiet, so my paine
Releast, and I shall heare thee speak againe.
40
And thats a favour far beyond desert,
But not beyond desire I have to love thee.
Dost thou desire? I'le rip my wounded heart,
And shew thee that which there perhaps may move thee;
O let me find accesse unto thy breast,
And there receive my almost wearied Soule,
Her wings are weary, and implore some rest,
Her wearied wings their slippery fate condole;
And scorne me not that I so much have sought thee,
For know Azile I have dearly bought thee.
41
For know Azile I have dearly paid
For thee, if of thee I am e're possest,
Possess me then with thy prevailing ayd,
And ayd to that shore that must make me blest,
There shall I sing Encomions to thy praise,
And praise the lustre of thy noble Spirit,
When ravish't by those Epithalm [...]an layes
Of Nymphs, thou shalt their Nymph-like grace inherit,
And Hyme [...] in a saffron vaile shall come,
O're a faire field bestrew'd with Margerum.
42
There shall the scores of either love be read,
And there my pains in which thou hast delighted,
There shall my love for her offences plead,
There shall my vowes be paid, my pains requited,
[Page 116] And those that do except against my age,
Harpocrates to silence shall conjure,
A Vultur shall his starv'd desire asswage,
Vpon their hearts, cause they my pains procure,
What though! scarce have twice ten winters told,
As much as is in man, in me behold.
43
As much as is in man in me should be,
But that thou hast bereft me of my heart,
I want those glozing words of flattery,
By which some men gaine more than by desert,
I want that wit which ought to parallell
Thy virtues, and procure deserving bliss,
I want that strength and vigour to repell,
Dejected griefe, which guides loves wheele amiss,
I want those means which should all good supplant
Within my brest, and chiefely thee I want.
44
Loves coach they say is made of Ebony,
And drawn by Turtle Doves of Silver hue,
To shew the brightnesse of pure amity,
With Turtles yoak't, than Turtles what more true?
Along whose sides the purple silke doth twind
The silver Ouches to the golden wheels,
So outward beauty should a lover bind,
For who the outward love the inward feels,
Eye sight confirmes, but vertues motives be,
Tis not alone thy face I love but thee.
45
Thee for thy virtues I alone admire,
Azile mine, but mine no more thou art,
Yet canst thou not those raging flames expire
Of Love, unless thou hast a double heart,
O double not my pains (my dearest love)
Nor let the Torments of my Soule increase,
For private envy will all truth reprove,
That Kingdome safest lives that lives in peace,
How can we then a true concordance find,
When we two, one, have both a diff'rent mind?
46
A Poet said, if Cupid be a power,
Let him possess me now with his desire,
When suddenly his eyes began to loure,
And he expir'd his life in helpless fire,
And so must I perish within that flame,
If these will not thy heart to pitty bend,
If still thy slinty heart remains the same,
I wish that with this line, my life might end;
And this cmplaint about the earth be hurl'd,
Alive to death, but dead unto the world.
47
And hear I stay, expecting now the doom,
And sentence of eternall joy, or grief,
Which from thy sweet, or fatall lipsmust come,
For while I live thou of my heart art chiefe;
[Page 118] Then shew thy selfe as thou desir'st to be,
Vnstaind in all thy wayes, in all upright,
That following dayes with pure integrity,
May sweet my sorrowes past with some delight;
And here I rest expecting the regard,
Of faithfull love, and his deserv'd reward.
Peliander.
FINIS.

To the immortall memory of the fairest and most vertuous Lady, the Lady

HEr tongue hath ceast to speak, which might make dumb
All tongues, might stay all Pens, al hands benum;
Yet must I write, O that it might have been
While she had liv'd, and had my verses seen,
Before sad cries deaf'd my untuned ears,
When verses flow'd more easily than tears.
Ah why neglected I to write her praise,
And paint her Vertues in those happy dayes!
Then my now trembling hand and dazled eye,
Had seldome fail'd, having the pattern by;
Or had it err'd, or made some strokes amiss,
(For who can portray Vertue as it is?)
Art might with Nature have maintain'd her strife,
By curious lines to imitate true life.
But now those Pictures want their lively grace,
As after death none well can draw the face:
We let our friends passe idlely like our time,
Till they be gone, and then we see our crime,
And think what worth in them might have been known,
What duties done, and what affection shown:
Vntimely knowledge, which so dear doth cost,
And then begins when the thing known is lost;
Yet this cold love, this envy, this neglect,
Proclaims us modest, while our due respect
[Page 120] To goodness is restrain'd by servile fear,
Lest to the world, it flatt'ry should appear [...]
As if the present hours deserv'd no praise:
But age is past, whose knowledge only stayes
On that weak prop which memory sustains,
Should be the proper subject of our strains:
Or as if foolish men asham'd to sing
Of Violets, and Roses in the Spring,
Should tarry till the flow'rs were blown away,
And till the Muses life and heat decay;
Then is the fury slack'd, the vigour [...]led,
As here in mine, since it with her was dead:
Which still may sparkle, but shall flame no more,
Because no time shall her to us restore:
Yet may these Sparks, thus kindled with her fame,
Shine brighter, and live longer than some flame.
Here expectation urgeth me to tell
Her high perfections, which the world knew well.
But they are far beyond my skill t'unfold,
They were poor vertues if they might be told.
But thou, who fain would'st take a gen'rall view
Of timely fruits which in this garden grew,
On all the vertues in mens actions look,
Or read their names writ in some morall book;
And sum the number which thou there shalt find:
So many liv'd, and triumph'd in her mind.
Nor dwelt these Graces in a house obscure,
But in a Palace fair, which might allure
The wretch, who no respect to vertue bore,
To love It, for the garments which it wore.
So that in her the body and the soule
Contended, which should most adorn the whole.
O happy soul for such a body meet,
How are the firm chains of that union sweet,
[Page 121] Dissever'd in the twinkling of an eye?
And we amaz'd dare ask no reason why,
But silent think, that God is pleas'd to show,
That he hath works, whose ends we cannot know:
Let us then cease to make a vain request,
To learn why die the fairest, why the best;
For all these things, which mortals hold most dear,
Most slipp'ry are, and yeeld less joy than fear;
And being lifted high by mens desire,
Are more propitious marks for heav'nly fire;
And are laid prostrate with the first assault,
Because, our love makes their desert their fault.
Then justice, us to some amends should move
For this our fruitless, nay our hurtfull love;
We in their Honour, piles of stone erect
With their dear Names, and worthy praises deckt:
But since those fail, their glories we reherse,
In better Marble, everlasting verse,
By which we gather from consuming hours,
Some parts of them, though time the rest devours;
Then if the Muses can forbid to die,
As we their Priests suppose, why may not I?
Although the least and hoarsest in the quire,
Clear beams of blessed immortality inspire
To keep thy blest remembrance ever young,
Still to be freshly in all ages sung:
Or if my work in this unable be,
Yet shall it ever live, upheld by thee:
For thou shalt live, though Poems should decay,
Since Parents teach their Sons, thy praise to say;
And to Posterity, from hand to hand
Convey it with their blessing and their land.
Thy quiet rest from death, this good derives,
Instead of one, it gives thee many lives:
[Page 122] While these lines last, thy shadow dwelleth here,
Thy fame, it self extendeth ev'ry where;
In Heav'n our hopes have plac'd thy better part:
Thine Image lives, in thy sad Husbands heart:
Who as when he enjoy'd thee, he was chief
In love and comfort, so is he now in grief.

To his dear Friend Mr. Iohn Emely upon his Travells.

HAve other Nations got that tempting art?
Or Seas? (O thou the second of my heart)
To steal thee from us? shall thy pre­sence plant
Those goods elsewhere, which Countrey thine doth want?
And chiefly me, who every winde abjure
That loudly roars, to make thy passage sure,
As much I blame the calms, for secret fear,
Though without cause, in all things will appear.
And now my thinks the Cantabrician [...]lood,
With open jawes growes thirsty for thy blood,
Which if great [...]aelums off-spring doth appall
The calm I [...]ear sits smiling at thy fall.
Or if Sicilian Seas thou surrowest o're,
Thy danger by Charibdis I deplore,
And Scilla's rock, whose bloody mouth doth lye
For thee, if more towards the North you flye.
[Page 124] If to Eoum, or to Indus arm,
Paropanisian rocks will do thee harm.
If on Propontis, or Tanais [...]lood,
Tanai's and Hellespont are stain'd with blood.
What pleasure then allures thee to their coast?
In safest beds pleasure resideth most.
Nor Countrey can, nor other Nations give
More sweet content, than where thy Parents live.
What will it boot to view the snowy hills
Of Al [...]ine high? whose fleecy moisture fills
The humble dales? or what will it prevail,
To hear th' exub'rance of a forrain tale?
What joy can it produce to hear the swains,
Leading their flocks along the Scythian plains,
T'accord their voices to the slender reeds
Of Amarillis praise? or what exceeds
With sweeter pleasure, and more bright doth shine
In other Countryes, than it doth in thine?
Now to Olimpian hills thou tak'st thy way,
Farr happier wouldst thou in our valleys stay,
And see thy Countrey Hero's sports prepare,
More pleasant than Olimpian pleasures are.
No service we to Nereus Altar vow,
Nor dread we Neptune, nor to Neptune bow,
But free from fear, in blushing mornings walk,
Through shady groves, to hear woods chanters talk
Ruddy A [...]roras praise, and with free mone,
To Eccho's only sigh our loves alone.
In Summer time we walk the flowry meads,
Where Flora o're her spotted Carpet leads
Our eyes, and gluts us with discoloured shows
Of Flowers, which on her am'rous bosome grows.
[Page 125] Then Zephirus with fair Nepenthe sents,
Comes stealing o're the flowers, and present [...]
Sweets odors to us, while by silver brook,
We sit, and cheat the Fishes with a hook.
And when the Meadows are disburthened
Of grasse, and with their withred Cocks are spred,
Then with our Nymphs and Ladies we resort,
Vnto those Cocks, and on, and o're them sport.
So Frisking Kidds their pleasures will display,
And with their loves in smiling Evenings play.
When going forwards with sweet tunes receiv'd
Our fingers in each others interweav'd,
We chat of love, and all the way we walke,
We make the boy the subject of our talk;
So sport we o're the Meads, till Hesper come,
Allur'd by our delights to light us home.
The night we pass in contemplations sweet,
(Contented thoughts makes sable night more fleet)
And in the morning (morning beautifi'd
With glorious Sol, who decks it with his pride)
We ride about the fields to recreate
Our o're-joy'd minds, minds never staind with hate.
Where fearfull hares before our Greyhounds flye,
A while they run, and run awhile they dy.
Then cast we off our nimble winged hawk,
Whose speedy flight all baser preys doth bawk,
And up, his envying strength doth manage well,
'Gainst him, who from Minervas turrets fell.
Now to her Altar we, whose golden hairs
Presents our corn, whole handfulls of our ears
Do bear, who smiling on her Altar, takes
Our Off'rings, and next fruitfull harvest makes.
[Page 126]When you Carpathean, and Aegaean Seas
With odors stain, their flatt'red God to please.
If palsie Hy [...]ms with his frozen head
Doth hide fair C [...]r [...]s in his Icy bed,
With gins we snatch the silly birds; and snare
With our deceitfull royls, the fearfull Hare.
And now Sydonian Bores with angry pace,
Through thick S [...]ymphal [...]an Woods our Hounds doe chase;
Who o're our steepy hills their way doe flye,
Where Countrey swains their speedy flight descry:
And with a hollow of rejoycing sounds,
Blown up, encourage our pursuing Hounds.
Retiting home, we praise, or discommend
Their long-maintained race, or hasty end.
When loggs of wood in spacious Chimneys laid
Of a consuming fire, a fire are made,
And we with our beloved wives declare,
Those sweet contents in Countrey pleasures are.
O might I taste those Marriage joyes, and tell
What pure delight in upright Love doth dwell.
And now to feast lov'd Christmas with delight,
Our neighbours to our suppers we invite;
Which past, and stools before the fier set,
All former wrath and wranglings we forget,
And while the Apples in the fiers rost,
Of kindnesse wee, and Countrey friendship boast,
Till with a Wassell, which our wives impart
With sugred hands, we close the night, and part.
These things thy nation yields us, and would prove
More blest, wouldst thou adorn her with thy love.
[Page 127] For if thou still depriv'st us of that light
Thy presence gives, and that intire delight,
By which thy Country smiles, she will decay
In fame, and her renown will fade away.
And I pursue thee o're Bononian Rhyne,
And to thee my dejected life confine.
Will: Bosworth.
FINIS

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