ORPHEUS His lourney to Hell  

WHen as the world in her first ●olden time,  
fruitful in every blessing did abound:  
when Flora's pride was always in her prime,  
and Winter's wrath did ner' offend the ground  
But without labour every thing increased,  
And pleasant summers seasons never ceased.   

No harsh aspect of heavens restless frame  
did alter earthly creatures in their kind:  
Each savage beast and bird that time was tame,  
and all the world accorded in one mind.  
For than dissension was a thing unknown,  
And seeds of envy and debate not sown.   

When as old Saturn had in peace disposed,  
his sceptre and his glorious throne in heaven:  
And in their several kingdom had enclosed,  
each of his children and by portions even,  
Making all several kings in several places,  
Divided to them all his gifts and graces.   

Then did great jove in peace succeed his Sire,  
and Neptune bridled in the lawlesle seas:  
Pluto in hell amidst a world of fire,  
keeping tormented souls from rest and ease,  
O'errules the hags that in those dungeons moils,  
And to the Ghosts imposes endless toils.   

In this contented time was Orpheus borne,  
composed of purer metal than a man:  
Made mortal by the Gods in Nature's scorn,  
that earth might witness how the heavens can  
enclose in Elemental shapes celestial things,  
Whose life from quintessence of heaven springs.   

This pure composed shape the Gods endued  
with their own virtues, else had it been shame,  
That he whose body from the heavens issued,  
should have a soul forged in a base frame.  
Thus did the Gods agree for to combine  
A heavenly body and a soul divine.   

This was that Orpheus, whose delightful strings,  
drew to their silver sound the senseless trees:  
That stilled the music of the bubbling springs,  
and staid the streams to hear his harmonies:  
That made the savage beasts forsake their pray,  
And gently come to hear sweet Orpheus' play.   

The craggy rocks that walls the Ocean's bound,  
where Neptune keeps his watery regiment,  
Rose from their flinty roots to hear him sound,  
and whilst he sang seemed for to sta●d content.  
The fishes left the seas to live a shore,  
Which never heard of musics name before.   

Thus lived be long the wonder of his time,  
whose heaven-borne music won 〈◊〉 love of all  
Aspiring honour taught his fame to climb,  
and made him live secure from thought of fall.  
Till Fortune that o'errules the state of kings,  
Did oreturne him, as she doth other things.   

The pleasiing poison of self-killing Love,  
at last made entrance to his mayden-heart:  
Where once being anchored, never would remove,  
but with sweet tickling wounds there bred his smart.  
Yet did his wish prevail, his hope's effected,  
His Love found love, and never was rejected.   

But as it is in things being soonest grown,  
whose flowered blossoms every blast decays:  
And never stays the Autumn to be mown,  
but floorishes and falls within few days:  
So is't in love, which being quickly sprung,  
Dies oftentimes when as it is but young.   

Eurydice, the flower of flowering Thrace,  
whom Orpheus often in his ditties praised,  
She that had all perfection in her fa●…,  
and at her face made every thing amazed:  
For love of her Orpheus incurred this pain,  
Though she with love requited love again.   

Being thus agreed in love, and both contented,  
the day was pointed for their marriage right:  
When most assured they soonest were prevented,  
and sundered by unconstant Fortune's spite.  
So by the means of a malignant power,  
Their joys began and ended in an hour.   

The marriage day being come, and all things fit,  
and Hymeneus' rites now done and ended:  
Home they return, and at their banquets sit,  
with pleasures such, as to such meetings tended.  
And when at home was ended all their sport,  
Then to the pleasant Meads did all resort.   

Where as the Maids by custom came in throngs,  
when any Maid was married from their train:  
And there they spend the time in sport and songs,  
that other may do so to them again:  
Where some were dancing hand in hand in rings,  
And others sit to hear how Orpheus sings.   

Here Orpheus warbles on his trembling strings,  
for to delight Eurydice his joy:  
She sometimes dances, then sits down and sings,  
and woman like gins to kiss and toy,  
Thus these two sporting in each others sight,  
Thinks every hour a year till it be night.   

When as the weary horses of the Sun,  
began to high them down unto their rest,  
And now their masters journey almost done,  
they end their toilsome labour in the west:  
Home hies these lovers with a full intent  
To change these sports to other merriment.   

And as they footed over the pleasant meads,  
like to the Huntress, and her maiden train:  
A Serpent sliding from amongst the weeds,  
stinged fair Eurydice, and with that main  
Expels her airy Spirits from the wound,  
And leaves her chill-cold body on the ground.   

Nor would th'impartial Destinies permit,  
her woeful soul to take her last adieu:  
But greedily they seize themselves on it,  
which down unto the Stygian streams they drew,  
Where they appointed her for to remain,  
That she might weight upon proserpin's train.   

Which when the Thracian Poet had perceived,  
how suddenly Furidice was gone:  
With madding fury sometimes raged and raved,  
and then with tragic tunes gins to moon,  
Sighing that his Furidice was dead.  
Before she knew the pleasure of his bed.   

And sitting there by her poisoned wound,  
saving the scarlet blood that issued forth,  
Moisture over-deare to due the ground,  
or quench the thirst of this unsatiate earth:  
Wishing or she were here with him again,  
Or he with her in the Elysian plain.   

Thus till pale death from her vermilion cheeks,  
Had drawn the untainted mixture of her hue,  
Distressed Orpheus with his sorrow seeks  
her now decaying beauty to renew:  
Till when he saw that all his hope was vain,  
He took himself unto his harp again.   

Where in a mournful Anteme he bewails  
the sinister occasion of his birth;  
Till his dividing voice with tears now fails,  
and cannot echo to his other mirth:  
But with sad looks and dumb demeans he brings,  
His countenance correspondent to his strings.   

Unto whose music flocks the neighbouring hills,  
the shady groves, the pleasant murmuring springs,  
And all the plains with company now fills,  
as beasts and birds, fish, foul, and other things,  
And when as every one had ta'en his seat,  
Thus Orpheus gius his sorrows to repeat.   

You freeborn people, from enthralling bands  
of liberty, depriving loves estate:  
Now mutually come all and ioyhe your hands,  
and help your Orpheus to bewail his mate.  
Weep for Eurydice that loved me well,  
Whose beauty now fades and decays in hell.   

Vnheady rulers of this wretched clime,  
you Gods I mean, whose hands directs our helm,  
Why did you sort my days unto this time,  
and in this sea of sorrow overwhelm:  
The prosperous beginning of my life,  
By this unjust divorcing of my wife.   

Ah could your cruclty enact this deed,  
to mixed sweet beauty with deformity:  
For all my merits, render you this meed,  
the injurious rape of my Eurydice?  
Shall she attend grim Pluto in his den,  
That was beloved of Gods, admired of men?   

Hast thou forgot to love great Saturn's son,  
or didst thou envy Orpheus in his love?  
Remember how thyself hast been orecum,  
leaving the Synod of the Gods above,  
To dote on one, whose beauties greatest grace,  
May not compare with sweet Eurydice face.   

Then in remembrance what thou sometime wert●  
see the distressed estate wherein I am:  
And if it rest in thee to ease my smart,  
for pity, pity Orpheus' misery:  
And if she have not passed the Stygian main,  
Ah, call her back to live with me again.   

So shall thy name eternised by my skill,  
be honoured for this memorable deed:  
And never shall my warbling harp be still,  
but every where thy worthiness shall spread:  
Till by my means the world resound thy power,  
And thou shalt bid me cease and sing no more.   

But if it be too late for to recall her,  
and that already she hath passed the flood,  
Where grisly Futies, fiends, and hags enthrall her,  
whence she can not return to do me good:  
Then hence forth shall my strings surcease to sound,  
And I will leave to sing till she be found.   

You woeful trees that witness of my moans,  
with hanging tops and teare-distilling shows:  
You silver streams, huge hills, hand rocks and stones,  
that have been witness to my weary woes:  
Here all together take your last farewell,  
Your Orpheus goes to seek his love in hell.   

And if the grisly furies will attend,  
the mournful music which mean time I'll make:  
If Pluto will but suffer the to spend  
some solemn sonnets for my loves sweet sake,  
Then haply may the gentle Queen of Dis,  
For pity sake restore me to my bliss.   

This said, he roused him from the tender grass,  
which mourned in Sable to hear Orpheus weep:  
And in a melancholy mood doth pass,  
unto the place that leads down to the deep,  
Where was innumerable ghosts before,  
Hasting for passage, down to Charon's shore.   

And through the irksome shadow of black night,  
he treads the fatal way to loath some hell,  
By many noisome vaults deprived of light,  
where none but. Furies, bugs, and tortures dwell.  
Until he came down to the Stygian banks,  
Where as the silly ghosts attend in ranks,   

There by the shore, poor Orpheus sits him down,  
and 'gins to tune his mournful instrument:  
Whereas the souls do flock about him soon,  
to hear the sequel of this strange event.  
And he with heavy looks and countenance pale,  
Recites the process of our former tale.   

Thus (quoth he) for my Love have I for sook  
the Thracian fields and company of men:  
And for her sake this journey undertook,  
to ugly grim-faced Pluto's smoky den:  
Where if I chance to meet with my delight,  
These pains will be requited with her sight.   

But if I miss of my Eurydice,  
and cannot find her out amongst the fields:  
Which the black judges of that monarchy,  
unto such separated lovers yields,  
Where they in solitary passion spend  
Their weary days, which never shall have end.   

Then will the heavy burden of despair,  
clog down my vital spirits to the ground:  
And my poor heart been split in two with care,  
let my poor soul escape that fatal wound.  
And in that heavy plight poor Orpheus shall  
Quite lose his comfort, labour, life and all.   

By this bad Charon landed all his freight,  
and set them safe upon the other shore:  
And with all speed returned thither strait,  
to load his boat again, and carry more.  
Where when he saw them clustering altogether,  
'Gan marvel what new ghost was then come thither.   

But when he looked on Orpheus, viewed his face,  
and every circumstance had only eyed:  
He told him that he might not pass that place,  
and to transport him flatly he denied.  
Had not the Poet with a pleasant strain  
Quenched the fierce fury of his wrath inflame.   

Then he whose ears enured to hear the cries  
of painful souls in endless miseries:  
Whose concave feet and fiery flaming eyes,  
fixed on no subject but deformities.  
Amazed to hear him stand as one that's dead,  
Or changed to stone at sight of Gorgon's head.   

Such was the force of Musics Art in him,  
as tamed this savage brood of hellish kind:  
Enchanted all his body limb by limb,  
and turned his savage unrelenting mind.  
And where before he kept him from his charge,  
Now he entreats him to accept his barge.   

And rowing him over to the other side,  
courteously helps to conduct him a shore:  
Protesting solemnly until that tide,  
he never helped such passengers before.   

Whence Orpheus looking to the Sulphurish flame,  
and foggy smokes ascending from that pit:  
Oft times repeats his lovers pleasing name,  
wishing himself might by her rest and sit,  
Where they with lovers songs, and sweet tuned rhyme,  
Might spend the course of everlasting time.   

The came he to the rusty gates of death,  
whereas the triple headed porter dwells:  
Who being amazed for to see him beneath,  
sends from his hollow throat such thundering yels,  
As summoned all the Furies at his calls,  
To leaves their tasks and haste unto the walls.   

Now in this place no suceour doth remain,  
to help him in or rid him out their claws:  
Save for to fall unto his harp again,  
and by that means break open the brazen jaws  
Of greedy hell, that there in darkness holds,  
More than large heaven in his compass folds.   

Then 'gins the Poet tune his silver strings,  
whose heavenly harmony had power to move:  
Hills, trees and stones, beasts, birds, and other things,  
both men on earth, and all the gods above,  
To see if it would come to this event  
'mongst the black people of this regiment.   

You that do triumph over Death's success,  
and in unbaylable strong bands detains  
The souls of wretched Lovers in distress,  
tormented midst a world of endless pains;  
For fair Proserpina's sake, your lovely Queen,  
Hear me recite my sorrows yet but green.   

I That amongst my Ditties wonted was  
to sing the motion of eternal heaven:  
How all the Planets in their circles pass,  
and at their times make up their motions even.  
Must change my style, and taught by proof to sing,  
Prove the effect of Love, a fickle thing.   

The solitary wood which I freqnented,  
whereas the Sylvan Gods admitted my name:  
Both Gods and woods together have lamented  
th'v ntimely proof I tasted of the same:  
And all agreeing in my tune do sing,  
How loves effect is an unconstant thing.   

The whilom desert plains where nothing grew,  
now fertile by the means my music made:  
Gin now again for sorrow to renew  
their old accustomable weary trade.  
And witness what a cause I have to sing,  
How loves effect is an unconstant thing.   

I loved Eurydice, the fairest face  
that ever heavens eye did look upon:  
Or ever sprang from elemental race,  
or ever humane tense were fixed on.  
Whose timeless death with tears make Orpheus sing,  
That loves effect is an unconstant thing.   

Unconstant Lass to him that loved thee well,  
made thee Commander of his lives estate:  
To leave him so, and choose the Prince of Hell,  
and thus reward his love with thankless hate.  
Thy folly makes me now with sorrow sing,  
The effect of Love to be a fickle thing.   

Yet to regain my losses come I here,  
to plead for mercy at grim Pluto's seat:  
Who when he sees my weight of woes appear  
and hears me all my sorrows to repeat,  
Will in his justice say, well may I sing,  
That loves effect is an unconstant thing.   

And you the watchful keepers of these ports,  
afford but me the entrance to those plains;  
Where every day so many Ghosts resorts,  
and I will for requital of your pains,  
To heaven & earth, and all their creatures tell,  
How gently I was entertained in hell.   

Wlth this the cruel Porter was content,  
to give him entrance through his brazen door:  
Where when he was, the Ghosts incontinent  
came flocking still about him more and more.  
And they that whilst they lived had hard his longs,  
For the like pleasure all of them now longs.   

To whom the gentle Thracian not denies,  
but for the better he might get his right:  
With his accustomable harmonies,  
he gluts their longing senses with delight:  
And makes them all, both Ghosts and Furies say,  
Would they might ever more hear Orpheus' play.   

Thus pleasantly they pass the foremost porch,  
and now amongst the tortures enter in:  
Where some in scalding metal fry and scorch,  
the tender superficies of their skin.  
Others do freeze to death, yet never die,  
Whose pains and lives must last eternally.   

All these and many other torturing kinds,  
the force of his sweet music did allay:  
And cheered again their now dead drooping minds,  
that in these torments thus tormented stay.  
And whilst he sung, forgets their former vain,  
The one his nature, th'other all his pain.   

Then came he near a place where he might see,  
a gliding stream, that swiftly runs away:  
Over whose banks doth hang a broad branched tree,  
that with much fruit her boughs to th'earth did sway.  
Under whose shade in water to the chin,  
Poor Tantalus is forced to labour in.   

Ready to starve for food, poor soul he stands,  
and yet the fruit hangs round about his head:  
But when he strives to catch them with his hand,  
they are conveyed from him with sudden speed.  
And when he hopes to quench his thirst with drink,  
Then doth the water settle down and sink.   

By him Ixion on a torturing wheel,  
continually is racked and torn asunder:  
His body yet decays not any deal,  
but still endures those pains, which is a wonder,  
That being racked and tortured in this rate,  
His body should continue in one state.   

There lies Promotheus fastened to the ground,  
upon whole heart a greedy vulture feeds:  
And where he feeds new flcsh grows in the the wound,  
and so his heart and hurt do daily breed.  
And Sisyphus by him doth make his moan,  
Wearied with labouring up the tumbling stone.   

To whom when Orpheus came and 'gan to sing,  
their pains surceased, and they were something eased:  
Whose harmony effected such a thing,  
as there withal the Furies seemed well pleased.  
And all agreed there with one consent,  
To spend that day in hell with merriment.   

Then Tantalus his stream did run no more,  
the tree hung still, and stirred not from his head,  
And he forgot the thirst he had before,  
and thanked Orpheus for his so good deed,  
In this releasing him from that pain,  
Which many years before he did sustain.   

Then Sisyphus his rolling stone stood still:  
Ixion's pains began for to decrease:  
Promotheus Vulture having eat her fill,  
from tiring of his heartstrings 'gan to cease.  
And all the tortures else that hell contains,  
Did then surcease their plagues and diresul pains.   

And followed Orpheus to the Cypress trees,  
undet whose shades the weary Soldiers rest;  
Who sorting there themselves in companies,  
with everlasting quietness are blest.  
And in their conterence there again revive  
Th'exploits they did, when as they were alive.   

There was old Priam and his fifty sons,  
that for their country's honour were suppressed:  
The Greeks, whose names in every Poem runs,  
there spend their quiet days in peace and rest,  
And he whose love did win the Carthage Queen,  
Venturous Aeneas rest upon that green.   

There 'gins the Poct once again relate  
the weighty cause that drew him to that place:  
In every word lamenting his est●●…  
that he was borne to suffer 〈◊〉 grace.  
He that had every creature at his call,  
Should now stand need for to be helped of all.   

You that have tried (quoth he) loves hard event,  
and the unconstant kind of women's sect:  
And you whose time in weary wars was spent,  
which Love and lovers passions did neglect.  
For pity sake help, for to cure my pain,  
By getting my Eurydice again.   

And in your judgmentes view my heavic plight,  
that have adventured this so dangerous toil:  
To view the monuments of endless night,  
that yields no other thing save rape and spoil.  
And tell me then, if that for all my pain,  
I be not worthy of her love again.   

Your toils that whilom you sustained above,  
was pleasure unto these I here abide:  
And all your dangerous quarrels for your love,  
compared with mine, may all be set aside.  
Yet could the world devise a greater pain,  
I would endure to get my love again.   

My Love, the sweetest Love that ere survived,  
wonder of heaven, and the same of earth:,  
Untimely death unjustly hath deprived,  
and would no longer let her hear my mirth.  
For her sweet sake what would I not sustain,  
If I might so recover her again.   

For Love thy brother jour for sook,  
his glorious high celestial seat:  
And to a Fear himself betook,  
that with his Daned he might treat.  
And did himself confuse and say,  
Quod Amor vincit omnia.   

Apelle, Learning's greatest friend,  
for Daphne's sake came from above:  
And doted on her, to this end,  
he might on earth enjoy her love.  
And was the first that ere did say,  
Quod Amor vincit ownia.   

Thus Love that enrers at the ele,  
and sleely steals down to the heart:  
There doth engender fantasy,  
whose issue breeds, or joy, or smart.  
Perforce enforces all to say,  
Quod Amor vincit omnia.   

This fancy hath set me on fire,  
and furiously inflames my breast:  
Feeding my soul with fierce desire  
of her whose thought denies me rest.  
And make me sing both night and day,  
Quod Amor vincit omnia.   

Whose fair Idea thou hast hast got,  
To bear Proserpina company:  
Keeping her close that I might not  
look on my fair Eurydice,  
Which now with sorrow makes me say,  
Quod Amor vincit omnia.   

She stands thee here in little steed,  
for thou hast many Millions more:  
Then with her love supply my need,  
and I will sing thy praise therefore.  
And whilst I live still will I say,  
Quod Amor vincit omnia.   

Plead fair Proserpina for her sake,  
who in her prime of love decayed  
And on her some compassion take,  
which was a wife, yet died a maid.  
For thou know'st well what joy is bred  
Enjoying of a lovers bed.   

Fortune and Love unconstant friends,  
agreed unto our marriage day:  
And furthered all our Loves pretends,  
with what within their power lay:  
Until we had both wooed and wed,  
Then Fortune snached her from my bed.   

And in despite of Love detains,  
Eurydice within your power:  
And me afflicts with lovers pains,  
which are increasing every hour.  
Because she knew not what was bred  
Within a lovers loyal bed.   

In that enclosure breeds delight,  
the pleasing soul of sweet content:  
Contented best to spend the night,  
in such soule-pleasing merriment.  
As thou canst witness well, is bred  
Within a loyal lovers bed.   

Where all Elysian joys do dwell,  
encircled there by Cupid's charms,  
And more delight than I can tell,  
engendered in a lovers arms.  
Because I tried not what was bred,  
Within a loyal lovers bed.   

But that instinct of Nature tells,  
the hidden pleasure of that place:  
Where more delightsome dalliance dwells,  
then in the gazing on her face.  
There are the livelle pleasures bred,  
That longs unto a marriage bed.   

Of this fair mark did Orpheus miss,  
and lost the pleasute of that sport:  
Been come unto the gates of bliss,  
I could not get into the fort:  
For my Eurydice was dead,  
Before I could enjoy her bed.   

With this the Poet over-cloyd with grief,  
no further could extend his misery:  
But with sad tears seemed to implore relief,  
to rid him from this woeful ecstasy,  
At whose sad tears the fearful god did grant  
That he should have her with this covenant.   

In all his weary journey up again,  
he should no once look back unto his love:  
But from the speaking to her should resraine,  
until he came up to the world above,  
Which if he did, then should he all his life,  
Enjoy her body as his married wise.   

But if fond jealousy should make him doubt,  
and he look back to see his loves sweet face:  
Before he were from his vast kingdom out,  
and past the fatal limits of that place.  
Then should his wife be snatched away again,  
And he should near the like good tutne obtain.   

Which courtesy the Poet gently took,  
and with contentment did accept this thing  
Expecting her with many a lingering look,  
the cause that drew him the there for to sing.  
Till at the length as the grim-God commands,  
Eurydice was rendered to his hands.   

But intercourse of speech was there forbidden,  
he might not welcome her with loving words:  
And with a dusky vale her face was hidden,  
that no transparance from her eyes affords.  
He was commanded to eschew the place,  
And she had leave to follow him apace.   

Thus both together these two Lovers go,  
with this restraint of mutual conference:  
Whose sad demeans the witnesses of woe,  
show'd discontent, but that with patience  
Men must of force obey the God's decrees,  
Though they extend unto their injuries.   

Long thus they traneilled in this discontent,  
Each wishing of the other to have sight:  
Until their journey now was almost spent,  
and they might see a glimmering of the light:  
For they were well-nigh come unto those bounds,  
That parts Anernus and the upper grounds,  
Where jealous thought that in a restless mind,  
breeds disconted passions mixed with feat:  
Was urging Orpheus oft to look behind,  
to see if his Eursdice were there,  
Until remembrance of his promise told.  
He might not venture for to be so bold.   

Ost was his faltering tongue about to speak,  
and call his sweetest Love by her sweet name:  
But being half afraid lest he should break  
the God's behests, and so incur his shame:  
With much ado his speaking doth refrain:  
Although (God knows) it was unto his pain.   

But longer can he not forbear to see,  
if she did follow him along or no:  
Such was th'effect of burning jealousy,  
that would not let him any further go,  
Before he had satisfied his longing mind,  
In looking if his lover were behind.   

And at the length boldly assays to try,  
turning him back to her, whom he so loved:  
When she was snatched from him by and by  
and from his sight immediately removed.  
And he himself left to himself again,  
Because he did not from this thing refrain.   

Grieving to see himself thus overshot,  
and all his labour sort unto that end:  
Leaving that cursed place, he homeward got,  
there fully bending of himself to spend  
The future remnant of his single life,  
In scorn of pleasing Love, or loving wife.   

And in invective Ditties day lie singes,  
th'uncertain pleasure of unconstant Love:  
How many woes a woman's beauty brings,  
and into what extremes this joy doth shove  
Poor foolish men, that ere they be aware  
Will rashly overshoot themselves so far.   

There 'gins he sing of secret loves deceits,  
and women's fawning fickle company?  
The outward golden show of poisoned baits,  
that draws so many men to misery.  
And for an instance sets himself to show,  
One that had suffered all this pleasing woe.   

Whose songs did sort unto such deep effect,  
as draw men's fancies from their former wives:  
women's vain love beginning to neglect,  
and in the fields with Orpheus spend their lives:  
With which sweet life they seemed so well content,  
As made them curse the former time the'ad spent.   

At which the women not a little grieve,  
to see their conquering Captain thus ore-botne:  
They gi'en devise how best they might relieve,  
their fading glory being almost worn.  
Which by no means they hope for to achieve,  
As long as Orpheus doth remain alive.   

Which to prevent in solemn wise they cite,  
●●eir company together all in in one:  
Where every busy head will needs indite,  
a means how they might get poor Orpheus gone,  
longest whomeat length the oase was thus decid●…  
that Orpheus of his life should be deprived 〈…〉   

Where jealous thought that in a restless mind,  
breeds disconted passions mixed with feat:  
Was urging Orpheus oft to look behind,  
to se●●f his Eurydice were there,  
Until remembrance of his promise told.  
He might not venture for to be so bold.   

Oft was his faltering tongue about to speak,  
and call his sweetest Love by her sweet name:  
But being half afraid lest he should break  
the God's behests, and so incur his shame:  
With much ado his speaking doth refrain:  
Although (God knows) it was unto his pain.   

But longer can he not forbear to see,  
if she did follow him along or no:  
Such was th'effect of burning jealousy,  
that would not let him any further go,  
Before he had satisfied his longing mind,  
In looking if his lover were behind.   

And at the length boldly assays to try,  
turning him back to her, whom he so loved:  
When she was snatched from him by and by  
and from his sight immediately removed.  
And he himself left to himself again,  
Because he did not from this thing refrain.   

Grieving to see himself thus overshot,  
and all his labour sort unto that end:  
Leaving that cursed place, he homeward got,  
there fully bending of himself to spend  
The future remnant of his single life,  
In scorn of pleasing Love, or loving wife.   

And in invective Ditties day lie singes,  
th'uncertain pleasure of unconstant Love:  
How many woes a woman's beauty brings,  
and into what extremes this joy doth shove  
Poor foolish men, that ere they be aware  
Will rashly overshoot themselves so far.   

There 'gins he sing of secret loves deceits,  
and women's fawning fickle company?  
The outward golden show of poisoned baits,  
that draws so many men to misery.  
And for an instance sets himself to show,  
One that had suffered all this pleasing woe.   

Whose songs did sort unto such deep effect,  
as draw men's fancies from their former wives:  
women's vain love beginning to neglect,  
and in the fields with Orpheus spend their lives:  
With which sweet life they seemed so well content,  
As made them curse the former time the'ad spent.   

At which the women not a little grieve,  
to see their conquering Captain thus ore-botne:  
They gi'en devise how best they might relieve,  
their fading glory being almost worn.  
Which by no means they hope for to achieve,  
As long as Orpheus doth remain alive.   

Which to prevent in solemte wise they cite,  
●heir company together all in in one:  
Where every busy head will needs indite,  
a means how they might get poor Orpheus gone,  
'mongst whom at length the oase was thus deci●…  
That Orpheus of his life should be deprived   

And thus they all agreed in one consent,  
〈◊〉 some occasion to procure his end:  
When to the place they flock incontinent,  
whereas he used his woeful days to spend,  
And finding him alone without his train,  
Upon him fall they all with might and main.   

And with confused weapons beat him down,  
quenching their angry thirst with his warm blood:  
At whose untimely death though heavens frown,  
yet they defend their quarrel to be good,  
And for their massacre this reason render,  
He was an enemy unto their gender.   

Which done, to rid him quite out of the way,  
him and his Harp they into Hebar fling:  
Upon whose strings the gliding streams do play,  
and for his soul lamenting Dirges sing.  
Till to the watery Ocean's greedy womb,  
They carry him for to go seek his tomb.   

But then fair heavens in their due regard,  
pitying his end that so had spent his days:  
In justice thus his merits do reward,  
unto their ever memorable praise.  
Thus they determined all with one consent,  
For to draw up his heavenly Instrument.   

And place it in that Crystal monument.  
the everliving registry of fame:  
The golden startie spangled firmament,  
where in remembrance of the Poet's name  
〈…〉 renew his memory,  
〈…〉 date out lives eternity.   
FINIS.