MYRRHA THE Mother of Adonis: OR, Lusts Prodigies.  
By William Barksted.  Horace. 
Nansicetur enim pretium, nomenque Poetae.  
Whereunto are added certain Eglogs.  
By L.M.  
LONDON Printed by E. A. for john Bache, and are to be sold at his shop in the Popes-head Palace, near the Royal Exchange. 1607.   

To his beloved; the Author.  
PRaise where so ere't be found, if it be due,  
Shall no vain colour need to set it forth:  
Why should I idly then extol the worth,  
Which here (dear friend) I find belong to you.  
And if I erred, full well the learned knew,  
How wide, amiss my mark I taken had,  
Since they distinguish can the good from bad.  
And through the varnish well discern the hew  
Be glad therefore, this makes for you, and know,  
When wiser Readers, here shall fix their sight,  
For virtues sake, they will do virtue right.  
So shalt thou not (Friend) unrewarded go,  
Then boldly on, good fortune to thy Muse,  
Should all condemn, thou canst as well excuse.  
I. W   

To his Loving friend and Kinsman: W. B.  
THamis near heard a Song equal to this,  
Although the Swan that owed this present qui●  
sung to that Echo, her own Epitaph  
As proud to die, and render up her wing  
To Venus' Swan, who doth more pleasing sing,  
Produce thy work & tell the powerful tale.  
Of naked Cupid, and his mother's will  
Myself I do confine from Helicon,  
As loath to see the other Muses nine,  
So imodestlie eye shoot, and gaze upon  
Their new born envy: this tenth Muse of thine,  
Which in myself I do in thee admire,  
As Aesop's Satire the refulgent fire,  
Which may me burn, (I mean with amorous flame●  
In reading, as the kissing that did him.  
And happy Myrrha that he rips thy shame,  
Since he so quaintly doth express thy sin,  
Many would write, but see men's works so rar●,  
That of their own they instantly despair.  
Robert Glover.   

To his esteemed friend. W. B.  
NOt for our friendship, or for hope of gain  
Doth my pen run so swiftly in thy praise:  
Court-seruile flattery I do disdain,  
" Envy like Treason, still itself betrays.  
This work Detractions sting, doth disinherit:  
He that gives thee all praise, gives but thy merit.  
Lewes' Machine.   

To his respected friend. W. B.  
POet, nor art thou without due desert,  
styled by that name:  
Though folly smile, and envy frown,  
to hear the same.  
Yet those who read thy work with due respect,  
Will place thee with the worthiest of that sect.  
Then let not ignorance, nor envy move thee  
Thou hast done well, they do not that reprove thee:  
Yet some (true worth near wants an opposite)  
will Carpers be:  
Grieve not at this, not virtues self can scape  
their obloquy,  
But give the reins unto these base spirits,  
Whose judgements cannot parallel thy merits,  
Such fools (to seem judicious) take in hand,  
To censure what they do not understand.  
Yet cannot they detract, or wrong thy worth,  
maugre their spite:  
For thou dost chant incestuous Myrrah forth,  
with such delight,  
And with such golden phrase gild ' store her crime  
That what's most diabolical, seems divine.  
and who so but begins the same to read  
Each powerful line, attracts him to proceed.  
Then since he best deserves the Palm to wear,  
Who wins the same:  
Do thou alone enjoy those sweets, which bear  
thy Myrrha's name.  
And ever wear in memory of her,  
an anademe of odoriferous Myrrh,  
and let Apollo, think it no dispraise,  
To wear thy Myrrh, & join it with his bays  
William Bagnall.   

MYRRHA, The Mother of Adonis.  

I Sing the ruin of a beauteous Maid,  
White as my paper, or loves fairest Dove.  
shine bright Apollo, Muse be not afraid,  
Although thou chauntest of unnatural love.  
Great is my quill, to bring forth such a birth,  
as shall abash the Virgins of our earth.  
smoke Golden censors upon Paphos shrine,  
drink deep Lenae●s to this work of mine.   

Cupid to Thracia went to hear a Song  
of Orpheus, to whom even Tigers came,  
And left their savage Nature, if there long  
they did with hi● sweet Melody remain.  
Wolves lost their preys, and by signs prayed hi●●in●  
Beasts left the Lion, and chose him their King.  
Cecropian Apes did on his music wait,  
Yet of them all, not one could imitate.   

'tis said when Orpheus died, he did descend  
To the infernal, so the Furies boast:  
Where now they give him leave his eyes to bend  
without all fear, on her whom he once lost,  
By a regardant look, but 'tis not so:  
jove not reserved such music for below,  
But placed him amongst celestial stars,  
To keep the Scorpion, Lion, Bear from jars   

For ever since the fall of Phaeton,  
that then displaced, them they were at strife  
For their degrees, till his alluring Tone.  
who though in death hath the office of his life.  
though more divinely: and where he attracts,  
More glorious bodies to admire his acts.  
Fair stranger shape of creature, and of beast,  
With his concordant tunes, placed them in rest.   

The Ditty was (and Cupid lent an ear)  
Upon the death of his Eurydice:  
Which still he sung, as if his former fear,  
Of losing her was now, or else would be.  
The Echo beat the noise up to the Spheres,  
And to his passionate song, Gods bend their ears.  
It was a sign, he was new come from hell,  
Their tunes so sad, he imitates so well.   

Such passion it did strike upon the earth,  
that Daphne's root groaned for Apollo's wrong:  
Hermaphrodite wept siewers and wished his birth  
had never been, or that he more had clung  
To Salmacis, and Clitie grieved in vainet  
Leveothoes wrong, the occasion of her bane,  
my wilful eye (this should the burden be)  
Hath robbed me of, twice slain Eurydice.   

Cicnus stil proud though he confuted be,  
for Phaeton's loss, would needs afresh complain●  
Thinking therewith to sing as sweet as he,  
but pitiless he sung and died in vain.  
Echo was pleased with voice resounding brim  
as proud to lose her shape to answer him.  
Hither resorted more than well could hear,  
but on my Muse, & speak what chanced there   

Amongst the rest of Vesta-vowed Girls,  
came sirrah (whose thoughts no guile than knew  
Like a bright diamond circled with pearls,  
whose radiant eye dealt lustre to the hue  
Of all the dames: whose face so far above  
though the rest (beauteous all) unwounded made love, love  
for never since Spiches was made a star  
did he see nature excel art so far.   

He changed his shape, his wings he oft hath torn,  
and like a hunter to this nymph he came:  
With gold tipped javelin and a bugle Horn,  
such as they bear to make the Lion tame:  
First did he kiss her hand, which then did melt  
with love's impression, Cupid the like felt:  
Struck dumb, he stood in an unwonted guise,  
such magic beauty carries in her eyes.   

At length (quoth he) should I not say I love,  
I should both Cupid and his Mother wrong:  
By thee fair Maid a power far above,  
My heart is the true index of my ●ongue.  
And by my naked words you may discover,  
I am not traded like a common Lover.  
Rare objects, rare amazements bred, 'tis true:  
And their effects are tried in me by you.   

My barren brain, can bless me with no store  
Of able Epithits, so what praise I give  
Makes not you richer though it makes me poorer  
therefore in vain against the stream I strive,  
Th'ore curious painter, meaning to excel,  
Oft mars the work, the which before was well,  
And he shall dazzled be, and tired soon,  
That leveleth his shafts to hit the Moon.   

With this, she turned her blushing head aside,  
& veiled her face with lawn, not half so white  
That even the blending roses were espied  
despite the clouds, that hid them in despite  
●he threw her thin breath through the lawn, and said  
Leave gentle youth, do not thus snare a maid  
I came to Orpheus' Song, good then forbear,  
It is his tune, not yours can charm mine ear.   

Let Orpheus learn (quoth he) of thee to sing,  
Bid him charm men Myrrha as thou canst do:  
Let him tame Man, that is the lions King,  
And lay him prostrate at his feet below,  
As thou canst do: nor Orpheus nor the spheres  
Have Tones like thee, to ravish mortal ears.  
Yea, were this Thracian Harper judge to tell,  
(As thee) he'd swear he sung not half so well.   

Nor dying Swans, nor Phoebus' when he love's,  
equals thy voice (though he in music courts)  
and as the God whose voice the firm earth moves  
making the terrors of the great, hi● sports,  
Whose first word struck into the Chaos light:  
so if that contrary thou take delight,  
at thy word, darkness would or'e-cloude the ayr●  
and the fairest day give place to thee more fair   

Fame hath resinged her lasting Trump to thee,  
as to the worthier, than thy fame display:  
Tell Venus thou art fairer far than she,  
For thine own worth becomes thee best to say,  
Time will stand still, the sun in motion stay,  
Sirens be mute to hear thee speak of Myrrha,  
Thy voice, if heard in the low shades should b●  
Would a third time fetch back Eurydice.   

Give ear eternal wonder to a swain,  
'twas writ in stars that I should see that face:  
And seeing love, and in that love be slain,  
if beauty pity not my wretched case.  
Fortune and love, the stars and powers divine,  
Have all be traide me to those eyes of thine.  
O prove not then more crueler than they,  
loves shafts & fates wheels, who hath power to stay   

Stay there (quoth she) give back those powers their own  
or not impose their powerful force on me:  
Have I the least word or the least glance thrown  
To make you attribute what's destiny  
Unto my beauty: if love and fate you wound,  
Throw vows to them, their altars are soon found,  
Wouldst thou have me pity before they do?  
love's blind, and fortune's deaf, so am I too.   

I know not love, sure 'tis a subtle thing,  
I, by these blushes that thy charms have raised  
T'allay more quiet▪ tell loves little king,  
I serve a Mistress he him●elfe hath praised  
Though he envy, a rare and sacred flower,  
Whom he had will to wrong, but never power.  
Now Cupid hangs the head, and melts in shame,  
for she did utter Vesta's holy name.   

And as you see a woman teeming young,  
bearing the growing burden of her wo●●b:  
Missing the dainty she hath looked for long,  
falls strait in passionate sickness pale & dumb  
(for seeing she hath lost it) will not tell,  
for what she in this forced passion fell.  
So when his hopes were lost, he would not say,  
what was the cause, but this to her did lay.   

Virgin beware that fire within thy breast,  
to Vesta dedicate do not expire:  
as she must wary be that is the best  
to keep it, it is known no lasting fire.  
The fuel cold fruitless Virginity,  
which if zeal blow not violent, will so one die:  
This stricts a virgin's life, and who but knows,  
that love and chastity, were ever foes.   

And if ere love assail those virgin's forts,  
those ivory bulwarks that defend your heart:  
Though he be king of sports he never sport's,  
when as he wounds, but plays the tyrants part  
And so much more he will triumph our thou,  
by how much thou contents his deity:  
I know you to be chaste, but yet fair Maid,  
if ere you love you'll find what I have said.   

Sir (quoth she) when I love you shall be mine:  
but know the time, when you shall claim me yours  
When as the fire extinct as Vesta's shrine:  
and Venus leaves to haunt the Paphian bowers,  
When men are perfect friends Tigers at peace,  
Discord in heaven, and powers divine do cease,  
when Fortune sleeps & the north star doth move  
when Turtles leave to mourn their mates, i'll love   

E'er this was ended, Orpheus' song was done,  
And all the Virgins fell into their ranks,  
Each took their leave of him, so did the sun,  
who now was posting to the western bank▪  
and the wild beasts, whom he had made more tame,  
seemed to depart with reverence at his name.  
Each one gave place to Myrrha as their duty,  
She being preferred in state, first as in beauty.   

Now Cupid of her his last leave doth take,  
so have I seen a soul and body part:  
He begs a chaste kiss for her mother's sake,  
and vow●s she shall be sovereign of his heart,  
But whether he disembling did it, or 'ttwas fate,  
(As extremest love, turns to the direst hate)  
Being repulsed, but this kiss did inspire,  
her breast with an infernal and vnnam'd desire.   

Night like a mask was entered heavens great hall  
with thousand torches ushering the way:  
The compliments of parting were done all,  
& homewards Orpheus chaunteth many allay;  
Venus had sent her coach, drawn by a Dove,  
For little Cupid the great God of love.  
& this hath sprung (as men have say of yore)  
For Myrrha's sake he vowed to love no more.   

Black as my ink now must my verse commence  
You blushing girls, and parents siluer-gray:  
As far as Trace from us, so far from hence  
go, that you may not hear me say,  
A daughter did with an adulterous head,  
And heavy lust, press down her father's bed,  
such Songs as these more fit the Tartars cares,  
had Orpheus sung it, beasts had poured out tears▪   

Unhallowed lust, for loves lies drowned in poison  
in what black ornament shall I attire thee?  
Since I must write of thy so sad confusion,  
shall I say Cupid with his brand did fire thee?  
Accuse the Fates, or thee shall I accuse?  
Myrrha weeps yet, only say this my Muse:  
wise destiny, true love, and mortal thought,  
would near confirm this, the furies brought this   

She loves her Father, Daughter near loved so,  
for as her mother loved so loved she him:  
Thirsting in fire those softer sweets to know,  
Amidst whose waves, Venus in pride doth swim  
So young she was, yet that her father kissed her.  
Which she so duly looks for he near missed her,  
Yet could he have conceived as he did after  
those kisses relish much unlike a daughter.   

Give to her gold of Ophire Indian shells,  
Cloth her with Tyrian purple skin of beast:  
Perfume her ways with choice Arabian smells,  
Present her with the Phoenix in her nest,  
Delight her ear with song of poets rare,  
All these with Cyneas might nought compare,  
" The comfort of the mind being ta'en away,  
" Nectar not pleaseth, nor Ambrosia.   

The feast of Bacchus at this present time,  
Was by the giddy Menades intended▪  
There Myrrha danced, and Orpheu● sung in rim●  
crowned with green thirses, now the 〈◊〉 yunhes ended  
with praise to Bacchus all depart with sprite,  
unto their feasts, feasts that devour the night.  
for lo, the stars, in travail in the sky,  
brought forth their brightness to each waking ey●   

High midnight came, and she to bedward hies,  
pretending rest, to beguile nature's rest:  
Anon the gloomy gallery she spies,  
toward her chamber, and she first that blest,  
Her care-fild eyes, her farhers' picture was  
Armed but the face, although it dumb, alas,  
she asked and if he called, seeing no reply,  
she answered for her father, and said I.   

Daughter (quoth she) why art thou thus alone?  
Let Doves so mourn girl, 't hath lost their mates  
Thine is to come, then prithee cease thy moan,  
Care should not dwell with great & high estates.  
Let her that needs and is not fair at all,  
Repine at fortune, love shall be thy thrall,  
winged as he is, and armed thou shalt see,  
(I have the power to give) & give him thee.   

Father (quoth she) and spoke with smaller voice,  
Nature hath made me yours, yours I must be▪  
You choose my choice, for in you lies my choice,  
Hereat she starts as what not fears the guilty?  
Thinking the shadow knew her double sense,  
and blushing, in strange fear departeth thence.  
blaming herself, for uttering her black fault  
to him who armed stood 'gainst her assault.   

Anon she spies many a youthful Lord,  
In several Tables, each in several guise,  
Whose pictures they had sent with one accord,  
To show their manly features to her eyes,  
Whose dumbed persuasive images were placed,  
To see if any in her looks were graced:  
But here in vain, their fair assays do prove  
for had they spoke they could not win her love.   

Over her Mother's shape a vail she drew,  
and weeping, said: may I near see thee more:  
Poor abused image, dost not turn thy hue,  
to see so foul an object thee before?  
Didst thou but know, what's sprung from out thy womb  
thy shap could speak, whilst thou thyself stoodst dumb  
Art would claim Nature in thy heavy woes,  
thy shape have limbs, thy limbs be stiff as those.   

Anon she leapt on it with ardent heat,  
and full of tears, yet falls upon her back:  
Wishing even in that grief the lustful feat,  
Were now performed (women oft longings lack  
●own sunk the down, and with so deep impress  
●hat had Hermaphroditus been there he might ges  
Salmacis were aganie his prostitute,  
or one more far, then to deny her suit.   

A strange conceit, had now possessed her brain,  
nigh equal to her lust, thought innocent:  
She gave up to desire, and leaps amain,  
From the bruised bed, with bloody framed intent  
To hang herself O, me most woeful theme.  
She now espied an high and sturdy beam:  
Many stave lived to an unpitied death,  
who might have died sometimes with famed breath   

Yet doth she think what terror death would be  
and on her heart, imprints his Character:  
Feign would she die, yet first would pleased be  
with damned lust, which death could not deter  
O sin (says she) thou must be Nature's slave,  
In spite of Fate, go to a pleasing grave.  
When I have sinned, send jove a thunder stroke  
and spare thy chosen tree, the harmless Oak.   

She thinks again, and sees nor time nor place,  
to quench the thirstiness of her parched blood:  
Time still ran on, with an averted face,  
and nothing but her passions did her good.  
This thought confounds her, and she is resolved  
In deaths bleak azure arms to be involved.  
Fates, you are women, save your modesties:  
she'll kill herself, you need but close her eyes   

●nd like as when some sudden ecstasy,  
● seisth the nature of a sickly man,  
When he's discerned to swoon, strait by and by  
Folk by his ●elpe confusedly have ran,  
●nd seeking with their art to fetch him back:  
To many throng, that he the air doth lack,  
●o Mirrha's thoughts confusedly did stound her,  
some adding comfort, whilst the rest confound her   

●ike to a fountains head, so show'd her head,  
from whence since passion first took hold of her  
too springs did run▪ thorough each flowr-filed mead  
& at her lips stayed, where she wished Cynir  
Would so have done: her face with tears run over,  
●ike heba's Nectar show'd, spilled on heavens flore.  
●or as the blomes in May the dew drops bears,  
〈◊〉 Mirrha's cheeks looked sprinkled with her tears   

Her hair, that with such diligence was used  
To be combed up & did like clouds appear  
Where many spangles, starlike were infused,  
To attend the lustre of so bright ●haire,  
Whose beams like bright Arachne's web compos●  
Taught Pallas a new envy, now unloosed,  
hiding her face, yet making it seem rarer,  
as blazing Comets train makes the star faire●   

Despair that teacherh holy ones to die,  
when as affliction ministers her part:  
Haddit breathing now in Myrrha, and well nigh,  
Like Venus, made her grasp a flaming heart.  
Cupid was borne at Aetna, a hot spirit,  
Whose violence takes edge off from delight.  
For men deep loving, oft themselves so waste▪  
that proffered dainties, they want power to tast●   

Digress no farthe● lest thou prove obscene,  
but tell by this how Nurse had broke the door,  
And trembling both through age and fear,  
Forgot the natural sense she had before  
Yet with her outcries from the shades of death,  
●ald Myrrha's sprite, who with unwilling breath  
reenters flesh, scorning to give it grace,  
with wont beauty that adorned her face.   

●he took the halter, and held up her chin,  
chase her temples with a violent heat:  
Making her soul return with torments in,  
●as it went out, being come unto retreat,  
Nurse heaved her trembling body on the bed,  
Where sinking as in grave, she seemed dead:  
chaste had my verse been, blessed Myrrha's hap,  
if here my pen could write thy Epitaph.   

When having gotten open her heavy eyes,  
life-mocking death, with a fresh crimson hue,  
she thus be spoke: if there be sorceries,  
philtre, enchantments, any furi● new  
That can inspire with irrelegious fire,  
The breast of mortal, that untamed desire  
Possesseth me, and all my body's merit,  
Shows like a fair house, haunted with a spirit.   

The four and twenty winds are not so fierce,  
as what doth blow the fuel in my breast:  
Not the soft oil, Apollo did disperse,  
on Phaitons brow, to keep his sun-beamed 〈◊〉  
From face of heavenly fires, could aught prevail  
'Gainst raging brands which my poor heart 〈◊〉  
scorched with material flames, we soon do 〈◊〉  
and to purge sins, we embrace purgatory.   

But this a heat that nor in life or death,  
can render any humour but despair:  
Nor can it with the short cut of my breath,  
Take hence my shame, that shall survive mine heir  
Nor can the act (after 'tis done) content  
But brings with it eternal punishment,  
lesseneth the pleasure of the world to come,  
gives the judge leave, & strikes the guilty dumb   

The jealous nurse, did apprehend her strait,  
yet would extract the quintessence of all:  
And therefore child (quoth she) use no deceit,  
but tell me freely whence these tears do fall  
I am thy nurse, and from my aged breast  
Thou hadst thy second being, tell the rest.  
I do conjure thee, by these silver hairs,  
which are grown white, the sooner in their cares   

If any orped witch of Thessaly,  
have power upon thee, gentle-girle relate:  
Or if thou have profaned some die●●,  
we shall some mystic fires propagate.  
To atone with them or if with barbarous hand  
devoyed of thy first chastity thou stand;  
Unfold to me griefs uttered find redress:  
fires undiscerned burn the more pitiless.   

Or if the sun of beauty shoot at thee  
his fiery shafts, O tell me and the rather,  
Because thy confidence shall answered be,  
With this my child I'll hide it from thy father  
As doth a dying man hold fast what so he grasp  
so she her fervent arms 'bout her Nurse clasp  
and nuzzels once more twixt those dugs her fa●●  
whilst o'er those islands flow salt tears apace▪   

That word of father was like Persey's shield,  
to make the poor maid stone, now nurse doth threat  
Unless she will in gentle manner yield,  
she would to morrow show how in a heat  
She would have made away her desperate life,  
and she must tell the man that forced that strife  
within her breast through fear she thus did frame  
and made her tongue the trumpet of her shame.   

Her voice half stopped with sighs (O fatal voice)  
pronounced these words, yet did the accents fail:  
How blessed is my mother in her choice,  
How fully she with nature did prevail.  
This said, her blushing face sinks in her shroud  
like Cynthia muffled in an envious cloud.  
When lo, the dying taper in his tomb,  
gave darkness to itself and to the room.   

Now had she time to wail, and well she might,  
Guilty of sorrow, there might you have seen:  
As glow worms add a tincture 〈◊〉 the night,  
Glimmering in pallid fire, upon some green,  
mixed with the dew, so did her eyes appear,  
Each golden glance joined with a dewy tear,  
oft shut her eyes, like stars that portend ill,  
with bloody deluge, they their orbs did fill.   

The Nurse amated with the latter words,  
whose aged hairs stood up like silver wire:  
Knew speech was vain, where will the scope affords  
& whi●pering softly, says child thy desire  
I'll put into thy arms, sleep, seize thy head,  
'tis now nights noon, all but the stars seem dead,  
Our vanities like fireworks will ascend,  
Until they break, uncertain where to end,   

Never did mortal with a vicious thought,  
wish to bring vices embryon to aforme:  
But still the prince of darkness to them brought  
occasions forelock, which they ●ff have torn.  
Sin like a Cedar shadows all our good:  
Whilst virtues bounded like a narrow flood.  
As see now, how the occasion of misfortune;  
Mirrha's much abus'd-mother did importune.   

Now came the time, of Ceres' sacred rite,  
and Mysteries, when all wives young and old  
Clothed in veils, all of transparent white,  
Kneel to her, and to the Attic priest unfold,  
The firstlings of the fieled wreathed gilded corn,  
Chaplets of dill, plucked in a blushing morn,  
And many such, nor may they husbands see,  
In nine days, till they end their mystery.   

Now nurse was double diligent, watching her time  
and told old Cyniras a lonely maid  
Sighed for him: and still with cups of wine  
betwixt each word his palate she assayed.  
Heated with wines, he had the Nurse repaid,  
and bring to him the Maid that was so fair.  
Bacchus & Venus, Wine and frolic lust,  
are sworn to blood, and keep together must.   

Myrrha no sooner heard this glad reply,  
but as a poor bird long time in a snare,  
Ready for fammine and her woe to die,  
whom an unskilful fouler unaware  
hath given freedom, to her food doth haste,  
so Myrrha thought each hour an age was passed:  
In her strict torment; but being scaped away,  
her woes forgot, she thinks upon her prey.   

And as she did ascend those stairs to lust,  
in the midway, she heard her father speak:  
And n●re lay partridge closer to the dust,  
at sound o' the Faulccons' bell, than she too weak  
To encounter or resist: and fears are such,  
in love by love, that they enccrease love much.  
love like to monarch, hath his state hie reared  
who ever will be loved, where they are feared.   

To a hundred several passions she doth yield,  
and as we see in Autumn of the year  
Some gallant oak stand ready to be field,  
upon whose ribs a hundred wounds appear  
Forced by the brawny arms of Hinds unlithe,  
who works a passage to the weeping pith:  
Uncertain (though wind shaken) where to fall:  
so stood her mind doubtful of rest at al.   

Nurse opes the door, and brings her to the be●  
the darkness of the night abated shame:  
And leaves her that must leave her maiden head  
to the begetter of his own defame,  
With faltering hams having got twixt the sheets▪  
In fearful lust this Prodegiae meets,  
He begs a kiss, than blushed she as he spoke it,  
yet he must give it, she wants power to take it.   

Now trembling lay she by her father's side,  
like silly dove within the Eagles gripe:  
Nor doth she use soft shrieks as doth a bride,  
(I mean a maid) when as the fruit so ripe  
Of maidenhead, is forced from their womb,  
Her father's arms to her was as a tomb.  
she dead in pleasure, durst not show her voice,  
lest Cyniras should know this fair foul choice   

But when that Cupid once had whetted her,  
she twines her lily stalks about his neck:  
So clings young ivy 'bout the aged oak there,  
Venus' smil●, but frowning juno checks.  
Their stolen delight, no nuptial tapers shone,  
No Virgin belt untied, but all undone,  
the Athenian God, kindled no hallowed fires,  
dark was the night, suiting to their desires.   

The morrow came, toiled with wakes and lust,  
she leaves her father, when as the rising Sun  
Covering the eastern Pines and mountain dust,  
spied Myrrha from her couch of sin to run.  
Then blushed he first, and backward would ha' fled  
And ever since in's rising he's still red,  
Near Turkas was at sick blood more estranged,  
than Myrrha when her chastity was changed.   

Oft would she lean against her father's knees,  
& tie his garter in a true love's knot:  
And then undo't again, as to show she  
were undone, yet he conceived it not▪  
And woman like that, keep not secrets long,  
she showed her love in dumb shows with out tongue,  
her lust she knew (yet hardly it concealed)  
like Fairies Treasur's vanished if revealed.   

A third night came, darker than shores below,  
when Cyniras (father of fearful lust)  
Willing to see the soul that did bestow  
So many pleasures on him (jove is just)  
Did reach a ●ap●●, whose confusive light,  
Struck like a blasting at that horrid sight,  
The light f●ll from him loathing his defame,  
things senseless oft are mo●'d, when men not shame   

At length with bloody eye fixed on her,  
out of an ivory scabbard hanging by:  
He drew a monumental Scimitar,  
●hinking with death that both their 〈…〉  
But night that oft befriended her with sin,  
●n her black womb too, did her freedom 〈◊〉▪  
For through the dark she slipped, and 〈…〉  
to mourn his Fa●e, not execute his 〈◊〉.   

Sped with her lust, and flying thence apace,  
in fears and trembling, fear doth give us eyes:  
For safety to the Gods, she lifts her face,  
& her clasped hands to what she now not see's,  
Jove's brow was dark, Boetes had amain  
Driven his Oxen to the lower plain.  
Phebae fled heaven, her face no tincture bears,  
Because she saw a deed, worthy her tears.   

The morning came, where yet the fatal print  
of Myrrha lay upon the pillow: Cynix he  
Clogged with distress, a father's curse did hint,  
upon that place of foul inchastity,  
the sight of what we loath, breeds loathing more  
and virtue once renounced engenders store,  
Leave we him toused in care, for worldly we,  
love to leave great men in their misery.   

Seven winter's nights, she fled before the Moon  
(who knew the unchaste act she had enforced)  
Through Arabia, in fear she posteth soon,  
To odorous Panchaia, whose confines divorced  
Her father's land▪ here grew all choicest fumes:  
That to Ioues temples often men presumes:  
and on his altars them accumulate,  
and how they first sprung, here thereof the Fate.   

Hebae now banished from th' A●therian bowl  
upon a feast day 'mongst the Gods above,  
Where 'twas made lawful, all without control,  
might freely drink it chanced the Queen of love  
Whether she longed, or envied heba's star,  
(Women are envious, where they long for nectar)  
forced her to skink so much, the juice ran over,  
so that Ioues drink washed the defiled flore.   

With this he stormed, that's Priests from altars fly  
straight banished Hebae & the world did think  
To a second Chaos they should turned be,  
the clouds for fear wept ou● th' immortal drink  
and on Panchaia there this Nectar f●ll,  
Made rich th' adjacent lands with odorous smell,  
and such rare spices to the shores are given,  
as jove would think no Nectar were in heaven.   

There was a Satire rough and barbarous,  
pleasing his palate at a trembling spring:  
Under a Beech with bows frondiferous,  
though he had seen a nymph or rarer thing  
Than flesh and blood for in the calmed stream▪  
He saw her eyes like stars, whose rays did gleam●  
'Bove Phoebus far, and so amazed stood,  
as if she had been Goddess of that flood▪   

and as you see a man that hath been long  
Possessed with a fury of the shades:  
after some prayers and many a sacred song,  
with blessed signs, the evil spirit vades,  
so fell his rudeness from him, and her shine,  
Made all his earthy parts pure and divine.  
O potent love, great is thy power be fallen,  
That makes the wise mad, & the mad man calm   

Thus he begins, fairer than Venus far,  
If Venus be, or if she be 'tis thee:  
Lovely as Lilies, brighter than the star  
that is to earth the morning's Mercury:  
Softer than Roses, sweeter breathed than they,  
blushed 'bove Aurora, better clothed then May.  
lipped like a cherry, but of rarer taste,  
Divine as Diana, and as fully chaste.   

Pardon my rude tongue, if I chance to err,  
as Hermes self might err being the God  
of Eloquence: for your bright eye doth bear  
all earthly blessings in a fair abode,  
Excuse me if I trip, I mean your weal,  
Error's no error, where 'tis done with zeal.  
Love like material fires is made to flame:  
When 'tis suppressed▪ with fanning Fires first came   

With this, the Maid (so took) hung down her head  
wondering that such a shape had such a tongue:  
able to steal her love, had she not fled,  
and from his ardent gripes, her body wrung.  
Flying like Phebae after strucken dear:  
and as he followed she fled more for fear.  
Z●phire came forth, to dally with her hair,  
while the poor Satire cried stay maid so fair   

But he on sudden like a subtle Snake,  
rolled in a heap, shoots forth himself at length:  
and to his vigorous arms greedy doth take,  
his yielding prey, won with his words not strength  
To be a woman, is by nature given,  
But to be constant, is a star, which heaven  
Hath sealed on their sex forehead as a sign,  
That constancy in women is divine.   

Thou didst deceive me Myrrha, when I said,  
thou flew'st for fear, thou gav'st me cause to fear  
and I might justly have this 'gainst thee laid,  
thou went'st t'auide by paths that were so near  
Who begin, ill most often end in ill,  
and she that doth her first pure youth so spill  
In lawless lust though made a wife to one,  
Remains like wax for each impression.   

But see the goodness of the Deities,  
who still with grace prevents our ill presage,  
This grove was hallowed to no Hiadres,  
but chaste Diana, who with violent rage  
Descending from her tower of Crystalline,  
To keep the place still sacred and divine:  
against her rites, brought with her thereupon  
white Poplar from the banks of Acheron:   

Then wi●h a charm, that did her face eclipse,  
And made her crescent quake, the juice she powers  
Upon the Satyrs face, and profane lips,  
which quickly over all his body showers,  
Her borrowed power of art being finished:  
(Derived from Phoebus as her light) she said,  
Nine-times the holy time, which spoken will clear,  
all profane matter, and this spoke she there.   

Sleep Poplar sleep, that was the Satyrs name,  
who had been long a king within these woods,  
Since thou my sacred Grove, 'gan to profane:  
a sleep seize on thee, still as Stygian floods,  
by Styx I vow the partial destinies,  
Did they conspire, should near unclasp thine eyes.  
having thus said, the Satire vanished so,  
as men's prospect that from a mirror go.   

I think (quoth she) accursed is this place,  
for here the man, for whom I sorrow now,  
Heedless Actaeon with immodest face,  
saw all our naked and did overvewe:  
As men rich jewels do, thinking there lies  
yet some rare virtue hidden from their eyes:  
And even there quoth she & then did point,  
reuen'gd, I saw his hounds tear joint from joint.   

But since says she, thou as a King didst reign,  
and art a Trophy too of Diane's power:  
Thus much the Goddess of the floods doth deign wood  
to change thy shape, into a vertick flower.  
Then thrice three words, thrice striking charmed  
The ground did cranny, and there out of hand,  
appeared green Poplar, younger than before,  
which bowed the head & diam did adore.   

The palefaced Myrrha sat like guilty sprite,  
fore the infernal judge, yet did not see  
Diana great, for dull are mortals sight,  
(and all invisible is chastity)  
But heard a voice as she was vanishing,  
saying defiled maid, dost wonder at this thing▪  
O Myrrha 〈◊〉 my crescents beauty change,  
thou shalt be turned into a shape as strange.   

With this the verdant new sprung Poplar plant  
(moved with the wind) seemed to bow down the head  
as cheering Myrrha, who did comfort want  
being amazed at what Diana said,  
Having recovered sense, she flies the place,  
For fear of pheba's coming to the chase:  
to Saba land she hies, where all afraid,  
my muse shall sing the downfall of the Maid.   

Then first hung down Poplar his heavy brain,  
for Mirrha's loss, whose love brought him that blue  
●nd for he once in woods a King did reign,  
a crown he still wear●s, richly wrought with  
●nd yellow eke, as figures both of love,  
Which Venus dropped down him from above.  
Bacchus doth love him, for in feasts of wine,  
●he wears a poplar Garland mixed with vine.   

The leaden God of sleep, on his juice feed,  
the virtues of him, sundry do declare●  
His sudden taste a heaviness doth breed,  
and drowns in rest, senses oppressed with care,  
●n places far remote, he loves to grow,  
●nd eke by rivers that run thick and slow,  
where drowsily this woodish demie God,  
with every gale of wind his head doth nod.   

Now to proceed after a small repose,  
that the accursed seed 'gan swell her womb,  
when her dry brain, no more tears could expose  
she weayting for a sad and heavy dumb.  
For often men offending, still do fear,  
Though jove be far off, yet his judgements ner●  
down would she sit, and so unfold her moane●  
that Echo sight hers and forgot her own   

Distressed twixt the tediousness of life,  
and trembling fear of death, she thus began:  
For when we cease to be the crimes are rife,  
which youth committed, and before us then.  
For aged memory doth clasped contain,  
Those shapes of sin, which hot blood held as vai●●  
O cursed Fates quoth she▪ that brought to passe●  
this prodigy twixt me and Cyniras.   

O leave to leap for joy, thou pretty child,  
to Hear of Cyniras, or i'll leave rather:  
To speak of him, whose bed I have defiled,  
& made him prove thy Grandsire & thy father  
Was ● predestined to select no other,  
But fated for the sister and the Mother.  
of thee my babe, heaven here hath been sinister  
the child shall call his grandsire, son his mother sister   

Oft do two Roses grow out from one stem,  
and one of them is full blown fore the other,  
So fares it now with thee my virgin iem,  
whom nature would call son but shame says brother  
Shall I not blush when thou art ripe, to gather  
The circumstances of who was thy Father,  
yes sure I shall, yet shame forgets all shame,  
I'll charge thy father of a heavenly name.   

But oh, I fear me lest some Prodigy,  
the heavens agree, that I to light should bring:  
to fright e'en the iron age, that chastity  
might take example by my suffering.  
That I a monster-mother should be made,  
If so, O over equal Gods, let Myrrha fade  
into some shape, worthy your high device,  
Pity to me, would make jove seem unwise.   

Altar O Gods, death that is due to birth,  
nor let the dead repine, that I should see  
Elizium's blessed shades, nor the men of earth  
annoided be with my impurity,  
Let them enjoy the fields, and learned Songs,  
Of high browed orphans, let the v●flesht throngs  
that have deserved this, and much more be glad,  
my stars, my double life, and fate, are sad.   

You wearied race of Danans' unblessed girls,  
In vain leave off your unwombed tubs to fill,  
& with your tears that stained the Indian pearls,  
Weep out or Myrrha, and ere night you will  
at my sad story orebrim with your tears,  
Your whirlpool vessels, which so many years  
returned no interest, if you well deplore,  
you'll drown in tears, or labour so no more.   

Conclude my fate, quick you eternal counsel▪  
or else I fear the nere-erturned dead  
Clad in the fearful shapes of night and hell,  
will rise before the general day be spread;  
and hurry me in flesh to Acheron,  
To taste hell's torture both in soul and bone:  
Then blast me thunderer in righteous ire,  
and I like Semele will meet thy fire.   

The Gods to her last wish was tractable.  
her tongue portcullised twice was as she spoke:  
air was her voice, and Myrrha now notable,  
to thank the Gods, her joints in s●nder brake.  
Leaves were her locks, of golden hair bereaved,  
her arms long boughs, deem & be not deceived  
tree 'gan she be, yet twixt her thing so stayed,  
you could not say she was or tree or maid.   

First grew her hair up like the Summer Corn,  
or as a blazing star, whose streams rise upward  
& being changed, fell leaves, that up were borne,  
by the rude winds, yet had you but have heard  
You'd swore, a sigh for Mirrha's transmigration  
Had been decreed by all the windy nation.  
and every Autumn, since a thing most rare,  
The falling leaves, resemble Mirrha's hair.   

To bark her ivory skin polished congealed,  
each blew-riged current into melting sap,  
Her nails to bolssome fair, & what revealed  
with accents sad, the babe yet in her lap.  
Her finger's twigs, her bright eyes turned to gum,  
Buried on earth, and her own self the tomb.  
her senses gone, yet this sense did she win,  
to aye relent, the horror of her sin.   

For even as from a guilty man, that's pleading for remorse  
tears follow tears, as hoping to prevalie,  
So from this tree, (though now a senseless course)  
flow precious tears, as seems she doth bewail  
In death, with ever living tears, the act fore-done  
These Pius drops, made densive by the sun,  
are kept for holy uses, and the Mirabel,  
That so distills, doth bear the name of her.   

The misbegotten baby, swells the tree,  
and loathing the defiled womb sought vent:  
Th●se pangs that mothers have felt she,  
and solemn sighs had issue, as they▪ d rent,  
and spoil the shape, she newly had assumed,  
But words within the close bark were inhumbd  
Yet wept it out, as it to water would,  
Or seemed it mocked Pactolus' waves of gold.   

Till chaste Lucina, whom the Poets give,  
The midwives power in producing creatures,  
by whose change we last die, and first do live,  
(be they not violent each) she that gives features  
Form or takes away, makes foul or fair,  
Descending from her Sphere next to our air:  
with arm●s yspred, upon the melting mir,  
brought divine comfort down from heaven with her   

Few words she spoke, but every syllable,  
of power to comfort the afflicted Ghosts:  
Or any other senseless thing make able,  
do be●ter deeds than those Alcides boasts,  
the tree straight craynes, & springs forth the child  
who the first minute, though his countenance smiled  
cried out a main, our first prophetic breath,  
shows our first hour, is mother to our death.   

The water Nymphs then caught him tenderly,  
who laid him straight on the enamelled bank●s,  
and bathed him with his mother's tears, whereby  
they made him fairer, and in merry pranks  
The Ladies call a convocation there,  
Some praise his nose, his lips▪ his eye, his ear,  
Some his straight fingers, whilst a fist doth swear  
his very breath yet smelleth of the myrrh.   

Another wishes, oh for such a face!  
Nor can I blame her though she did wish so:  
For sure, were I a wench, 't'had been my case,  
for nature here, made both her joy and woe,  
And spite that (but herself) commendeth none,  
Of force must say, this was a rarer one  
Than either nature did, or ere shall make,  
whose life holds up her age, whose deathe's her wrack   

Eyes like two stars fallen from their proper spheres  
as if they scorned the beaten paths of heaven:  
Or envying of beauty of the bears,  
shown firmer here, and brighter than the seven  
Such was he as was Cupid wont to be  
In pictures limned, and that they may agree,  
furnish the babe with wings and quiver light,  
or from loves God, take wings, and quire quite.   

Nought may compare with Time in his swift race  
the babe ere while feels now youths hot alarms  
And as in years, so beauteous grew his face,  
that he is fit again for Lady's arms:  
Nor Cupid now could wound more dames than he  
That Venus who Captives all, is not free  
From her own power, she love's Adonis mild,  
That Mars doth storm, & wish he were no child   

Nor Paphos, Amathus nor fishie Guide,  
delights she now to haunt, nor Aetna now  
Burns more than her, she roans the wood so wide  
after her game, that to his game doth bow.  
And will not hear or see, for eyes and ears,  
If they her hear or see, their use forbears  
Yet she pursues, and leaves her power uneven  
on heaven & earth, she loves him more than heaven   

Oft would she say, and bathe those words in tears  
oh thou fair boy would God thou loudest like me  
but sure thou art not flesh, it well appears,  
thou we●● the stubborn issue of 〈◊〉,  
So hard thou art, than she a sigh would fet,  
and wish that Vulcan had not made his net,  
For boy sterous Mars, she'd fainer ha' been sped  
with this choice flower, clasped in her iron bed.   

she'd near have blushed, them she does make a vow  
though all the Gods of both worlds had then seen  
She raveth that she ever loved till now,  
that she might worthily ha' been loves Queen.  
well, well (quoth she) thou hast revenged the spite  
which from my accursed Sons bow did foully light  
On thy fair Mother, O immortal boy,  
Though thou be fair, 'tis I that should be coy.   

But stay my Muse in thine own confines keep,  
& wage not war with so dear loved a neighbour  
But having sung thy day song, rest & sleep  
preserve thy small fame and his greater favour:  
His song was worthy merit (Shakespeare he)  
sung the fair blossom, thou the withered tree  
Laurel is due to him, his art and wit  
hath purchased it, Cypress thy brow will fit.   
FINIS.   

THREE Eglogs, The first is of Menalcas and Daphnis: The other two is of Apollo and Hyacinth.  
By Lewes Machin.   

MENALCAS Daphnis.  
IN Summer time, before the Sun did rise,  
Dull la●ie sleep, had quite forsook mine eyes  
Then up I start myself, I did array,  
And walked the fields before the break of day,  
Then all the world, was quiet, still and hushed:  
Aurora strait appears, but O she blushed  
To see her golden hairs in flames hang down,  
Whose shining brightness lasced her sky gown  
Then Phoebus from the east mounted the sky,  
whose burning lustre puts Aurora by.  
When he first rises, than we may behold,  
His shining face, drawn in a Coach of gold.  
I laid me down, upon the dewy gra●●e,  
Shaded with trees to view all those that pass,  
When lo I espied a pair coming that way,  
And down they sat them meaning there to stay.  
Then on my breast I crept till I came near 'em,  
Lovers speak softly, (yet I chanced to hear 'em  
A shepherd one was, a fair Nymph the other,  
With face as beautiful as Cupid's Mother,  
Two roses in her cheeks, yellow her ha●e,  
Nature had done them right, a well shaped pair,  
To me they did appear: then still I sat,  
and lent mine ●are unto their amorous chat,  
O tell me dear, what may the reason be,  
That thou of late hast left thy flock and me?  
Once thou didst love me, and I love thee still,  
O do not thou repay my good withal.  
But women like to fortune still are fickle,  
Their constancy like glass, hollow and brittle.  
Yet some there are on this earth to be found,  
Whose faith was never shaken but still sound,  
and one amongst those few, I hope thou art,  
Whose kind reply can heal my wounded heart  
Then she with modest grace to him replied,  
Thy suit fair Shepherd I near yet denied.  
Thy long wished presence is as dear to me,  
as ere my smiles have been a joy to thee.  
No coy disdain, nor yet no proud ambition,  
Hath kept me from thee but to scape suspicion.  
Did I absent myself now being alone?  
Le's leave all griefs, and cast away all moan.  
Then did the sun cast glances at her eyes,  
Supposing them two stars fallen from the skies:  
She winked, and durst not look on Phoebus' rays,  
mean while the shepherd which her whit hand plays  
But see what chanced, as he had caught his bliss,  
Meaning to venture for a pleasing kiss.  
and as he reached to kiss her, he did see  
Come flying twixt a labouring honey be,  
Which made them both to start, the Bee supposes  
Her roseate cheeks to be two budding roses,  
and sucking there upon her pleasing skin,  
Finding no sweetness he thrust out his sting:  
and pricked her cheek, the blood did there display  
Which being done the Bee did haste away:  
The Nymph in this small smart was well contented  
But of the Shepherd, it was sore lamented,  
O cursed be, first thou didst stop my joy,  
But secondly far greater thine annoy.  
First hinder me of that should do me good,  
and next to shed her undefiled blood.  
This grant you Gods, that every honey Be,  
May want a sting for this wrong done to me.  
But she replied, O do, not grieve sweet heart,  
The sight of thee, makes me forget all smart.  
Then freely come, and tyre thyself with kisses,  
which are to Lovers their celestial blisses,  
Then did he nibble on her red soft lips  
and draws her heart out with his amorous sipp▪  
His spirit melted when those sweets he tasted:  
and in loves flames their very souls are wasted.  
With youthful humours now they gi'en to play,  
H●e'd see her Garters, but she cries away.  
Let me go forward and then i'll retire,  
Now by my flock I swear i'll reach no higher,  
She then believed him, and seemed not loath:  
Flesh is so frail, that he hath broke his oath.  
Nay then (she said) I pray ye let me go:  
I shall grow angry, wherefore do you so.  
He seeing her to frown, forsook his pleasure,  
Hoping for more joy at a fitter leisure:  
Fie, fie (quoth she) and are you not ashamed?  
If any should have seen I had been blamed.  
This place is common some may chance come by  
And see us on the grass thus readily lie.  
Then go with me, into you pleasant Grove,  
Where I will make a Garland for my love,  
There shall we find sweet Violets & prim-Roses  
all pleasing scents, that pleasant wood encloses.  
April did weep with joy, whose moderate showers  
Imborders all that grass with fragrant flowers.  
There we may sit in private, kiss and toy,  
Farthest from sight, is lovers greatest joy.  
Content (quoth she) then let us both go thither  
My lappefull of those odorous flowers i'll gather  
And with them for my love i'll make a wreath,  
Then on thy lips, my lips shall sweetly breathe.  
Thus arm in arm, they walked into the Grove,  
Then up I start, mine eyes at them did rove.  
But in they were, for I had lost their sight,  
And sure they were together with delight.  
The sun was darkened, and did hide his face,  
Being ashamed, he missed the shepherds place:  
Then back I came, thinking upon these twain,  
wishing for such a Nymph, I were a Swain.  
L: M  
Finis.   

Apollo Hyacinth.  
APollo weary, let his courses breath,  
Whilst he descended to this earth beneath:  
armed wi●h his bow▪ & shafts he walked the woods  
To hear the muttering of the shallow floods:  
The little birds did sing on every briar,  
making the green bowed trees their musics quire  
And with sweet notes, these harmless fingers strove  
To chant an Anthem to the Gods above.  
Phoebus' was ravished, hearing of this noise,  
Vowing he would forsake his heavenly joys  
To live on earth, if no more harm were found  
Then did appear upon that pleasant ground.  
But he did after find this false world's pleasure,  
joy for a minute, trouble without measure.  
Thus wandering up and down without this grove  
He spied a boy, that after game did rove,  
His bow was in his hand, shafts by his side,  
His curled hair did all his shoulders hide.  
A well shaped face he had, pleasing ro view,  
a fine straight body, and a heart most true,  
Apollo staid and gaz duppon his face,  
Supposing him mortal of Ioues race.  
and that blind archer, that doth wound all hearts  
Had now quite overcome the God of arts,  
For he did dote upon this lovely youth,  
Whose heart was all composed of melting ruth,  
and seeing Phoebus come, the boy did stay him,  
He said youth; will you walk, heed not denay him  
But went along together hand in hand:  
and Zephir with calm wind their faces found,  
Then Phoebus said, fair youth what make you here  
Knide courteous stranger for to kill the dear?  
To hear the birds to sing, the waters glide:  
Tumbling in curls along a green bank side,  
More sweet content in harmless woods is found  
Then in great Cities there doth sin abound.  
But here husnt quiet keeps us company,  
Free from all cares, and bad society:  
Here grows high grass le's sit and make it flat,  
and so beguile swift time with pleasing chat:  
So hand in hand, they sat them on the ground,  
Where little birds did make hermonious sound,  
But Phoebus' heart did pant and leap with joy,  
When he beheld that sweet delicious boy.  
His eyes did sparkle love his heart flamed fire,  
To see this sweet boy smile, is his desire.  
Then with an ardent gripe his hand he crushed,  
and then he kissed him, and the boy than blushed,  
That blushing colour, so became his face  
That Phoebus kissed again, and thought it grace  
To touch his lips, such pleasure Phoebus felt,  
That in an amorous dew his heart did melt.  
and thus he dallied with his amorous kisses,  
Forgetting of the world, that his light misses.  
More joy he had, when this day did approach,  
Then in his shining Crown or burning Coach,  
Wearied with toying▪ they left off their play,  
and conquering night, had now o'ercome the day  
Casting her sable curtains o'er the sky,  
Then said the boy, I to my rest must high.  
and I said Phoebus, must into the Sea,  
To sport with Thetio still the break of day.  
Tomorrow when my Charriot's in the the west,  
Then meet me hear, for that's my times of rest.  
I will quoth Hyacinth till then farewell,  
The parting of true friends all pains excel.  
Phoebus' turned coward, and was quite disharted,  
at last he came and kissed him, and so parted.   

Apollo Hyacinth  
GRim night being past, the morning star appeared  
and bright Aurora had the welking cleared,  
Then Phoebus' drawn forth by his fiery team,  
Gilded the hills, the fields and watery stream:  
so swiftly flew his steeds, through scorching flames  
as if he ran for the Olympic games.  
But 'twas not so, Apollo made that haste,  
Longing till he his Hyacinth embraced:  
And H●acinth sweet youth the time respected,  
God's love by mortals should not be neglected  
There sat he down, by a clear running brook  
And like Narcissus doteth with each look.  
He casts upon himself▪ there had he died,  
But that bright Phoebus did his beauty hide.  
In over darkened clouds to stop his self loved erro●  
No shape he saw in natures watery Mirror.  
And now Apollo wayving towards the west,  
unteamed his fiery steeds, and let them rest  
Whilst he descended on this ball of earth,  
To spor●e with Hyacinth strange unknown mirth  
For which the Gods were angry, and decreed  
They would remove the cause, the boy must bleed.  
Now Phoebus for to see his love did hast him,  
Then Hyacinth came running and embraced him:  
More joy had Phoebus in this Spartan lad,  
Then heaven borne love in Phrygian Ganymede:  
His love to Daphne (that chaste beauteous nymph)  
Was not so great, as to his Hyacinth.  
All Female pleasures, which he did adore,  
Are dull to those of his male paramour.  
and having past some hours in delight,  
They would go walk to Delpho's ere that night  
Should dark the world for they went to see:  
The sport there made by the lands peasatrie.  
And being come to a fair spacious plain,  
There might they see each nymph had got a swain  
Some dancing after pipes, others were running  
at barley break, and with their homely cunning,  
Sought to delight themselves, and those stood by  
Others for nimble footing there did try,  
who best deserved the werth: some threw at length  
The heavy sledge, & therein showed the●r strength  
Which pleased Apollo best, than he would prove  
His strength in it, and threw it far above,  
The expectation of the standers by,  
For through the clouds the sledge did seem to fly  
and Hyacinth being eager for to throw,  
Ran to the place, ere that it fell below  
Upon the earth, and falling on firm ground  
against his face the heavy sledge rebounds,  
and struck him to the earth the God did sound,  
When he beh●ld that fatal deadly wound,  
But being reviv'd, he hollowed in his ear,  
To call back life, O Hyacinth my dear;  
Leave me not thus, I will court destiny,  
For to revoke thee doom, thou shalt not die.  
Grief would not help, in gore there lay his brain  
And so Apollo's Hyacinth was slain.  
But yet the God still wept upon his wound,  
till with his tears there sprung from out the ground,  
A flower where his bleeding corpse lay dead,  
Shaped like a Lily, but this flower was red.  
The people wondered when they saw this done,  
But then he showed himself bright like the Sun  
Which filled them all with fear, they kneeling said  
Tell us thy will, and it shall be obeyed.  
Then build a stately Temple o'er this flower,  
And dedicate it to his matchless power.  
That kept my heart in thrall that lovely boy,  
Beauty of mankind, and Apollo's joy,  
And every year to make a solemn feast,  
In honour of my friend but now deceased.  
And for my part, i'll walkein shadow groves,  
Consort with Virgin's ghosts, slain by falls loves  
No more i'll touch my Viol or my Lute,  
Nor speak to Gods or men (true grief is mute)  
So he departed, wring of his hands,  
And they to do those things that he commands.  
The Gods for missing of their wont light,  
Sent Mercury to know of him if night  
Should still possess the world: he made reply,  
Three days for Phaiton did I leave the sky.  
But Hyacinth was dearer, for his wrack,  
Six days the world shall mourn in solemn black  
But Hermes ufde such cunning, he did force  
Phoebus again, to take his wont course:  
And so to heaven, he went with Mercury,  
Whose tongue had power to o'er rule destiny:  
Yet since the earth had robbed him of his friend,  
He vowed this curse until the world should end.  
Half of the year, his beams should comfort shine  
The rest to rain and frost he would resign,  
And that because his sorrow here had birth,  
Trouble and grief, should still possess the earth.  
Lewes' Machine.  
FINIS.