Philochasander AND ELANIRA The fair Lady of Britain.  
Wherein is discovered the miserable passions of Love in exile, his unspeakable joy received again into favour, with the deserved guerdon of perfect love and Constancy.  
Hurtful to none, but pleasant and delightful for all Estates to contemplate.  
By Henry Petowe.  
Dulcia non meruit qui non gustavit amara.  
Printed by Thomas Purfoot.  
1599   

To the virtuous and courteous young Gentleman, and his very friend Master john Cowper, H. P. wisheth increase of virtue and heavenly Happiness.  

Seem you content, be discontent who list,  
My chiefest study is to please my friend,  
Your liking scares the biting Satirist,  
What fool dyslikes where virtue doth commend.  
virtues firm stay is resident in thee,  
And I from virtue seek apology.   

Vouchsafe than thou admired to descend,  
Down from th'imperious rich sky threatening throne,  
Of all subduing virtue, (honours friend)  
And grace the Roof of my poor mansion.  
Herein's contained the house of my good will,  
Like it and take it, so be Landlord still.   

If the foundation shrinking chance to fail,  
And strongest posts the builder do beguile,  
Suppose it then the Cottage of a Snail:  
That tottering falls: so that her ruin smile.  
Decay in such poor creatures breeds delight,  
For their ambition savours not of might.   
Yours to his power humbly devoted. Henry Petowe.   

Ad invidiam.  
SHame seeking Zoylist's, is it not offence,  
That Momus is the God of your devotion?  
To whom you consecrate all diligence,  
In carping and contemning every motion.  
Shame ye not thus to seek the shame of others?  
Why seek you shame? shame swiftly doth pursue you:  
Yet envy so your bashful senses smothers,  
That you shame not so much as they that view you.  
Look back, look back and let this Poem pass,  
That passeth not blind biting envies terror:  
But learn to know abstaynance in this glass,  
And carp not that which wanteth nought but error.  
Vain are all actions of humanity:  
Then blame not fiction, 'tis but vanity.  
N. R. Gent.   

In laud'em Authoris.  
THe Laurels green wreath, Pallas doth propose,  
To the Triumphant Temples of all those,  
Which by Apollo's inspiration,  
Merit fair Daphne's transformation.  
Then doth this Author, by all Poet's Laws,  
Deserve that Fame with general applause.  
Henry Snelling Gentleman.   

To the quicksighted Readers.  

AS he that lately ransomed from the snare,  
Dreads still venture on the self-same gin,  
So erst by folly led, not armed with care,  
Seek I to shun the pit I late was in,  
The sink of misconceit, and errors Cell,  
Wherein my wandering Muse downehead-long fell.   

(Raised by your favours) she hath pruned her wings,  
And now her second flight she 'gins to make,  
Oh do not hurt her, though she rudely springs,  
For want of skill, but rather pleasure take.  
To see an unfledged fowl make shift to fly,  
Whose ungrown plumes all means for aid deny.   

Once she did ill, since when she lived obscure,  
In black robes mewed within an ebon hearse,  
No longer now she will herself, Immure,  
But cancel her rude Epitaphe's harsh verse.  
Blest may her second resurrection be,  
And in your favours live eternally.   
Yours as opportunity will permit. H. P.   

To the fairest Elanira.  

Fair glory of Virtue, whose bright Angels form.  
(Framed of immortal powers all divine,)  
Banish the black Clouds of a threatening storms  
Darting such splendent rays from Beauties eyen.  
Eyes casting light, like to the Lamps of heaven,  
Whose eyes all eyes of sight hath quite bereaven.   

Blind I, whose I, can never be but blind,  
Unless the sunshine of your sacred beauty,  
Enforce the curtains of mine eyes, (assigned  
By love) to ope' and do their wont duty.  
Then shine bright Sun upon my liquid soil,  
Drenched with my tears in hazard of much spoil.   

How can that soil (fair Sun) but ruinated,  
Whereon the Sun will never cast his light?  
Such is your Beauties force, when I contemplate,  
That one kind smile can brighten my dark night.  
My hearts sad woes, which force my soul to languish,  
Such is my woes inexorable anguish.   

If then one harmless smile from beauties fair  
Lend comfort to a thousand new bred woes.  
Smile sacred Saint to banish fell despair:  
Despair that all sweet pleasure overthrows.  
My weal or woe at Beauties mercieiss,  
Frowns bred my sorrows, smiles my endless bliss.   
Philochasander.   

The pleasant History of Philochasander and Elanira.  

Seven times twice told the bright Hyperian,  
Hath circled the fiery Zodiac,  
Seven times twice seven, since darting love began  
Within those twice seven days my poor soul's wrack,  
Of an old hurt, yet feel the wound but green,  
Wounded by Love, yet love hath never seen.   

In Cyprus springs, where Beauty fair once dwelled,  
A well so hot that who so tastes the same,  
Were he of stone, as thawed Ice should melt:  
And find his breast kindled with burning flame.  
Whose fervent heat my cold limbs so oppressed,  
That fell despair doth lend me little rest.   

An other well that springs so hot is found,  
Whose chilling venom of repugnant kind,  
Drenches the burning heat of Cupid's wound,  
And with the spot of change infects the mind.  
Whereof my dear hath tasted, to my pain,  
My service thus is grown into disdain.   

II.  

FRom Tuskane came my Ladies worthy race,  
Fair Florence was sometimes her ancient seat,  
The western Isle whose pleasant shore doth face,  
Wild Camber's cliffs did give her lively heat.  
Fostered she was with Milk of Irish breast,  
And now in famous Britain she doth rest.   

Fortune bad Chance, the Author of my rue,  
Why did you suffer hoary aged time,  
To present such a Diamond to my view,  
At whose first sight, my Sunshine did decline:  
Wars foreign gallants wherefore did you slumber,  
And carelessly let slip so rare a wonder.   

Why did you sleep, and did not gaze upon her?  
Why did so rare a prize escape your hands?  
Why did not waking Sentinels cease on her?  
Whose sacred looks all earth on earth commands.  
Her fair of kind, her virtues from above,  
Happy is he that can obtain her love.    

III.  

THe Sun hath twice brought forth his tender green,  
Twice clad the Earth in lively lustiness,  
Once have the winds the trees displayed clean:  
And once again gins their cruelness.  
Since I have hid the harm within my breast,  
My Ladies coy disdain that hinders rest.   

The winter's hurt recovers with the warm,  
The parched green restored is with shade,  
What warmth alas may serve for to disarm,  
The frozen heart that mine inflame hath made.  
What cold again is able to restore,  
My fresh green years that whither more & more.   

Strange kinds of death in life I try,  
At hand to melt far of in flame to burn,  
And like as time list to my cure apply,  
So doth each place whole heaps of woes return.  
Love seems to have my cure still in scorn,  
Who living die: and dying live to morn.    

FOUR  

MOst happy all but I; the savage wild,  
The senseless beasts in field that pasture takes,  
Nature will not permit them be beguiled.  
Of their true-harted love affecting makes.  
The poorest senseless creature on earth living '  
Enjoys what he loves most, and never grieving.   

The Hart he feedeth by the gentle Hind,  
The Buck doth feed hard by the pretty Dove,  
The Turtle Dove we never see unkind,  
To him that to her doth affection show.  
I proffer kindness, yet 'tis not accepted,  
I love, yet love of love is quite rejected.   

The harmless Ewe she hath by her the Ram,  
The younger Cow hath to her make the Bull,  
The Calf with many a pretty nibbling Lam:  
Upon the downs do feed their hunger full.  
But my Love loved prizeth so high her fair,  
That for her want I cannot but despair.    

V  

Full fair and white she is, and White by name me,  
Whose white doth strive the Lilies white to stain,  
Who may contemn the blast of black defame,  
Who in dark night can bring day bright again.  
Day is not day, unless her shine give light,  
And when she frowns, day turns to gloomy night.   

The ruddy Rose impresseth with clear hew,  
In lips and cheeks right orient to behold,  
Her sparkling eyes dart forth to worldly view:  
Such glimmering splendent rays, more bright than gold.  
Her looks the still beholders eyes amazes,  
Dimming their sights, that on her Beauty gazes.   

Oh how my heart did burn at her first sight,  
Oh how my ravished soul did leap for joy,  
Day still did smile, 'twas never ebon night,  
No grief, no woe, increased my annoy.  
Until I gave the onset to the fort,  
Then fell disdain set period to my sport.    

VI  

Fair Penthesilea th'Amazonian Queen,  
Whose manlike fórce foiled Achilles son,  
And hung his shield of Grecians to be seen,  
Within Troy walls hath not such honour won.  
By that her admirable Princely deed,  
As my love hath, on whom all eyes do feed.   

Helen 'mongst Princes is accounted rare,  
Phillis the Shepherds Do commend for feature,  
The Gods sweet Venus to be only fair,  
Yet she whom I love is a fairer creature.  
Of all the beauties since the world begun,  
Make one fair star, yet mine will be the Son.   

From utmost confines of the far wide world,  
Came warlike Knights like bees to hive in number  
To gaze on her, decked with Apollo's courld,  
And dangling golden locks, the world's fair wonder.  
Whose too bright lamps shining in Phoebus' view,  
Withdraws his rays into a darker hew.    

VII.  

EAch morn when fresh Aurora 'gan to peep,  
And Phoebus rising from the Eastern clime,  
show'd forth his radiant beams true course to keep,  
Whom Zephir bids Boniour with calm wind.  
Forth goes my Mistress for to take the air,  
Deemed by the world sweet Beauties fairest fair.   

No sooner did my love display her beauty,  
From forth the glorious portal of her being,  
But many states did hold it bounden duty,  
To offer service such a Goddess seeing.  
Then do they strive in duty to excel,  
Whose duty graced her beauty wondrous well.   

At her first gaze, like when Apollo's beams,  
In the full glory of their Beauties shine,  
Do with the splendent rays that from heaven streams,  
Illuminate the day: from her divine.  
Such lightning came, as all the earth thereby,  
Was graced as much as with the heavens brightie.    

VIII.  

WHen she was mounted on her palfreys back,  
White as the whitest snow winters beauty,  
Her horse again this Princess must unbacke,  
It were a wonder to behold the duty.  
Those lovesick Knights that still attended on her,  
How diligent they were to wait upon her.   

Then in a Chariot triumphantly she rides,  
Attired all in Robes of perfit green,  
That dangling down hung lose about her sides,  
Like Lady Flora, Summers' blessed Queen.  
Two other palfreys swift as Venus' dove,  
Draws this admired Goddess Lady love.   

No sooner had her beauty graced the fields,  
But busy air upheaves her yielding rob:  
Her neither garments likewise willing yields,  
The covering Canopy of pleasures globe.  
A globe wherein a man did never see,  
Such pleasant fertile countries as there be.    

IX.  

THe time when this sweet fair her progress took,  
Was when fresh spring that bud & bloom forth bring,  
With green had clad the hills, and every brook  
With Crystal gliding streams did sweetly spring,  
The Nightingale with feathers new did sing,  
Summer was come for every spray did spring.   

The Buck in brack his Winter coat did cast,  
The Turtle to her make hath told her tale,  
The Adder all her slough away did waste:  
The Hart had hung his old head on the pale.  
And thus I saw among these pleasant things,  
Each care decay and yet my sorrow springs.   

Still side by side her Chariot did I run,  
And like a Page attended with the rest,  
But when I saw the honour she had done,  
To other Knights, and mine to be the least:  
Oh how my heart within freighted with ire,  
A spark scarce kindled, turned to flaming fire.    

X.  

Revenge I sought upon those harmless Knights,  
And needs I would give scope to raging ire,  
Our clamorous weapons fearful Love affrights:  
To know my name the Lady doth desire.  
Those foreign gentiles knew not what to say,  
Some said I was Leander, some said nay.   

But if that Beauty beauty's worth may praise,  
And praise himself, whom blackest hue doth scorn,  
My Beauty 'bove the rest myself might raise:  
But that I leave for after-worlds' unborn.  
Then issued forth a voice, some neighbour wight,  
Philochasander do we call this Knight.   

A warrior whom all Britain doth admire,  
A man at arms that dreads no martial rage,  
Disgraced he would not be: for fell desire  
Did egg him on: some others to assuage.  
His new bred fury sought; but all in vain,  
In presence of his Lady four Knights were slain.    

XI.  

THose stark dead Corpse of those 4 worthy peers,  
That breathless lay upon the thirsty ground,  
Was such a terror to her tender years,  
That timorous fear did cast her in a sound.  
But when her senses were restored again,  
This was her guerdon for my taken pain.   

From Beauties Court I must on Pilgrimage,  
And never more behold her Majesty,  
But banishment with such a golden age,  
As were my youthful days; could not agree,  
But though her doom exiled me from her sight,  
Aloof I followed like a wandering Knight.   

Four dead I banished yet a hundredth more,  
Of gallant gentles did attend on her:  
Well might five absent be, amongst five-score,  
Where such a worthy troup did wait upon her,  
Exiled I was, and Lovers she had score,  
Yet in despite of hate, she had one more.    

XII.  

Poor I which had two eyes, yet not one eye,  
That durst attempt to lend my soul relief,  
Relief to me in midst of misery,  
Lest that the one eye caused the others grief.  
Two eyes I had yet none to do me good,  
So much in fear of Beauty, poor I stood.   

Near her I might not come, the more my woe,  
The farther out of sight, the more her joy,  
Thus woe became my friend, and weal my foe,  
My absence her content, my sight annoy.  
Thus pilgrim like I ranged full of pain:  
Hoping for rest, though captive to disdain.   

But they that hope for fruit on barren land,  
May lack what they desire, and so did I,  
I looked for favour at a Prince's hand,  
Yet scarce durst view her sacred Majesty:  
For I was banished, banished from her sight,  
That once gave day unto my souls dark night.    

XIII.  

SOme men will think as due they ought to have,  
For their true service, guerdon and reward,  
But I entreat, and love for love I crave:  
Yet others though unworthy are preferred.  
I beat the bush, and others catch the bird,  
Reason exclaims and swears my hap is hard.   

They eat the honey, I must hold the hive:  
I sow the seed, and they must reap the corn,  
I wast, they win; I draw, and they must drive,  
Theirs is the thank, and mine the bitter scorn.  
I seek, they speed: in vain my wind is spent,  
I gape, they get, I pray and yet am shent.   

I fast, they feed: they drink, and I still thirst,  
They laugh, I weep: they joy, I ever mourn:  
They gain, I lose, I only have the worst:  
They are whole, I am sick: they cold, I burn.  
I would, they may: I crave, they have at will,  
That helpeth them, but hate my heart doth kill.    

XIIII.  

Adieu desert, alas how art thou spent?  
Ah drooping tears, how woefully you wast,  
Poor heart how many scalding sighs are lent  
To prick them forth, that make no speedy haste:  
Ah pained soul, thou gapest for mickell grace,  
Of her in whom sweet pity hath no place.   

Unhappy I, the fixed stony rock,  
From place to place as soon I may remove,  
As by my heavy sorrow to provoke  
A frozen heart from hate to perfit love.  
What should I say, alas such is my lot,  
To fawn on women's fair, that make men dote?   

For where I seek to find a resting port,  
I do but weigh against the wavering wind,  
And where my troubled soul would feign resort,  
There is no place for my abode assigned.  
My destiny I fear decreeth so,  
That my true heart should cause my much woe.    

XV.  

When glorious Phoebus had the Serpent slain,  
The wanton God desired Cupid's bow,  
Which sudden strife did turn him to such pain,  
That in the end he felt the depth of woe.  
The shaft once shot, he never could remove:  
His woe began in seeking Daphne's love.   

This Cupid hath a shaft of perfect kind,  
Wherewith true-loving makes he gently woundeth.  
Whose golden head hath power enough to bind,  
All loyal hearts; such force therein aboundeth.  
another shaft he hath, that's wrought in spite  
Whose Nature is to quench all sweet delight   

The own in Phoebus took a resting place  
In Daphne's Breast the cruel shaft did slumber,  
Phoebus sought love, Daphne would not embrace  
His vowed love could never bring her under.  
Such is my case? to her I seek to most  
I love, she hates, thus is my labour lost.    

XVI.  

AS oft as I behold my love in Majesty,  
Her sparkling sovereign beauty that me bound,  
The mores my comfort, though exiled I be,  
But yet alas the fresher is my wound.  
My soul like Tantalus in sorrow wasteth,  
Who sees the golden fruit, yet never tasteth,   

On like a careless Lady still she glides,  
Woe worth those palfreys that befriend her so,  
Woe worth the burnished Chariot where she rides,  
Alas alas they nill regard my woe.  
Swift Spookes, strong axle-tree, burst all in sunder,  
That I may feed upon my souls rare wonder.   

Ye gentle Coursers that so much obey,  
Let not the golden rains your proud heads tame,  
Graze on some fertile soil, that she may stay:  
And meditate upon an exiles name.  
Look what I wished: good chance to cure my wound,  
Subverted her rich pomp down to the ground.    

XVII.  

THere sits my love like jove in heavens throne,  
That mountain like still standeth, so stands she,  
Whose majesty those knights do gaze upon,  
Expecting from her beauty some rich fee.  
But this rare accident that Fortune wrought,  
Twixt timorous fears & dread, my mistress brought.   

As in a trance she all amazed sat,  
Fair Elanira, so my fair I name,  
Who did disdain black Venus for her mate,  
Mate would she none but babbling tell tale fame.  
To blaze her Beauties excellence about,  
Casting proud libels foreign lands throughout.   

No sooner were her palfreys put to graze,  
And she revived that erst seemed dead:  
But all the pretty birds on her to gaze.  
Marching along, by Nightingalls were lead.  
With sugared notes they proffer humble duty,  
Carrolling sweet music to her beauty.    

XVIII.  

THose pretty birds did frame such melody,  
That Elanira fell into a slumber,  
Her ravished servants drenched with harmony,  
Sad drowsy Morpheus were enthralled under.  
Which when the birds perceived as they were joying,  
They hop and leap about, & fall to toying.   

They thought poor silly fools, but thought amiss,  
That she was Flora in her chiefest pride,  
Therefore her coral lips, they chirping kiss,  
Anon her dangling amber hair they'spied.  
Thereon some play, and leap from hair to hair,  
While others suck the breath of Beauties fair.   

Then came unruly Air Zephyrus blasts,  
To gaze upon this all admired Lady.  
The wanton winds her nimble robes upcasts,  
About her corpse: they were as quick as may be.  
To cover Beauties treasure, they nothing leave,  
Their yielding garments 'bout her they upheave.    

XIX.  

THen did the wanton birds fly all about,  
Her pleasure palace viewing all her store,  
round round, they flutter in, and then fly out,  
All that she had they law, what could they more.  
What mortal eye but I had such a sight,  
Can deem the field no bed, the day no night.   

No eye but I, unless the heavens bright eye,  
And other senseless eyes that nothing wit,  
Beheld this blessed object: whereat I  
Amazed stood, bereaved of sense and wit.  
Yet when I called to mind what I had lost,  
I drew nigh that which I desired most.   

And when the sudden mist that dazzled had,  
Mine eyes at their first sight and sudden view,  
Had cast his stemmy garment: oh so glad  
Was I, that what I saw, for truth I knew.  
Imagine gentle Lovers how it grieved me,  
I saw, yet could not have, that should relieve me.    

XX.  

While thus I musing stood, swift feathered Time,  
Came flying by, and told me 'twas midday,  
Those slumbering Knights and Lady all divine,  
Slept on; the pretty birds took flight away.  
Then nigh my Lady, nigh as nigh may be,  
I did approach unto her Majesty.   

I did again what Zephir did undo,  
I spread the covering silken Canopy,  
I placed her golden tresses in a roe,  
I had a care of her sweet Chastity.  
By this time drowsy slumber left her eyes,  
(The curtains drawn) my Lady 'gan to rise.   

She saw 'twas day, but when she saw me by,  
She 'gan exclaim, but all her Knights were fast,  
Then dreading nought I did approach more nigh,  
No dread at all, nor fear did me aghast.  
Then such a tale I sounded in her ear,  
That are I ●east, she bade me come more near.    

XXI.  

NO sooner had she said, but I was by,  
Down I must set, with honour she did grace me,  
My tale half told, she cast a wanton eye,  
With luorie circling arms she did embrace me.  
Thrice welcome to thy friend thy Quondam foe,  
(This said) she asked if I did love or no?   

Ravished with joy I made her this reply,  
World's wonder, heavens beauty, loves comfort,  
Was Hero loved, if loved, then so love I,  
I true Earbas not false Aenaeas consort,  
Then welcome love, if love in thee have place,  
Receive this touch, as guerdon from my grace.   

What that I touched her lips, she likewise mine,  
And what I gave to her, she gave to me,  
Twice did I touch her beauty all divine,  
Nay then (quoth she) one more, I'll have my fee.  
A thousand more to give was my desire,  
Such store of fuel love cast on true-love's fire.    

XXII.  

BY this the dreaming Knights began to wake,  
The drowsy jailor bid them hast away,  
Forth of his slumbering Cell quick speed they make,  
And having left their cabins find it day.  
(Their former sense restored) on me they gazed.  
To see me present they were much amazed.   

Lordings why gaze and frown you thus, quoth she,  
Why disconted? not a word they say,  
They cease to frown, since 'twill no better be,  
She bids them bring her Courser▪ they obey.  
She being mounted, made her home return,  
Erst cold with fear, now freight with joy I burn.   

Her shivered Chariot was anew repaired,  
Against her next days progress as she bade:  
What earth on earth to her might be compared,  
Who of the choice of earth by Gods was made?  
Fair Elanira fairest fair alive,  
To match whose fair all other fairs did strive.    

XXIII.  

HEro the fair so called for her beauty,  
And yet not fair in Elanira's view,  
The Gods themselves did proffer love and duty,  
Vowing to change her earthborn mortal hue.  
And frame her all (divine, but yet alas,  
She said them nay, she would be as she was.   

Helen was fair, but not so fair as she,  
Dido was fair and yet she wanted fair:  
The 〈◊〉 of jove were fair, for so thought he,  
But none of these with her might near compare,  
Hero, Helen, Dido, all pale with White,  
And when she shone, their glory turned to night,   

On this days new borne light, I Page-like tended,  
Casting my little lights on that bright Sun,  
Oh so mine eyesight suddenly amended,  
Receiving comfort from that blessed one.  
I could but wink, such was her beauty's force,  
She dareth smiles on me, moved with remorse.    

XXIIII.  

With pretty pleasant chat we spent the time,  
Until the setting of this glorious Sun,  
At the fair portal of her rest divine,  
The Senses five sweet harmony begun.  
To welcome home fair beauty with their sweet,  
While other Virgins stoop to grace her fear.   

There might I see, and seeing might behold,  
Her Princely edifice: whose entering gate  
Did seem to all in-goers beaten gold,  
Such was the honour that did grace her state.  
Entering therein all sorrow was bereaven,  
For I supposed her palace blessed heaven.   

The rich embowing of that mansion,  
Were framed of the purest ivory,  
The pillars gold which they did rest upon,  
For the sweet pleasure of her Majesty.  
The walls were covered all with silver o'er,  
So rare a palace never seen before.    

XXV.  

Upon the silver sealing of the same,  
Were carved fiery beasts of sundry sorts,  
That seemed to withstand all such as came,  
And to that Princely mansion durst resort.  
All things therein so curiously were placed,  
As never mortal wight was better graced.   

The pavement was of rich and precious stone,  
Carved in such sort, as three times blessed he,  
Might so be honoured as to tread thereon,  
To have access unto her Majesty.  
Each part thereof did glister where we come,  
As if it were the beauty of the Sun.   

The Sun said I, alas how oft yet missed her,  
(Like to a crafty Fox 'mongst water fowls,)  
Crept through her window & had thought to kissed her,  
No no, high soaring Eagles scorn low stowles.  
There is no sun to glad the world but this,  
Whom tender plants young youth do long to kiss.    

XXVI.  

HEr gentle palm my warlike hand did grace,  
And to a further room conducted me,  
Clasping my yielding corpse with sweet embrace,  
Until she show'd me all her treasury.  
If words had bred content, than deeds would savour,  
Had Mars of scornful Venus won such favour.   

Viewing her storehouse I began to wonder,  
Within this burnished caskonet (quoth she)  
Are pearls high prized: this other placed under,  
Contains such gems as man did never see.  
This ivory box with Ruby stones is graced.  
Within this other, Diamonds richly placed.   

With that she takes me as she did before,  
Philochasander worthy Knight she said,  
Lo here a chest containing three times more,  
Ask what thou wilt, thou shalt not be denayed.  
All this is mine nay thine, and so much more▪  
If thou wilt help my woes, take all my store.    

XXVII.  

ALas my love said I what bitter woe,  
Presumed to house within thy sacred breast?  
The heavens will sure be venged on thy so,  
And near permit that hellish soul to rest.  
Phoebus' will frown and never lend him light,  
But suffer him to pine in obscure night.   

jove will send down swift Mercury from heaven,  
And make a transformation of his hue:  
The senses five will him of sense bereaven,  
And bind him captive to the pining crew:  
That wanting ears and eyes, to hear and see,  
May pining live, and die in misery.   

Ioues Ganymede that sweet and dainty boy,  
Whose flowing Nectar cup impleat with sweet,  
Shall like false Minos with that traitor play,  
And change Ambrosia to poison meet.  
Forcing him drink a full carouse to death,  
Who soon shall pledge him with his loss of breath.    

XXVIII.  

IF heaven refuse to do this blessed deed,  
I will in person down to night black hell,  
And crave of fair Proserpina his meed:  
That still he may be plagued with furies fell.  
She is a woman therefore will be won,  
If she consent, soon shall revenge be done.   

I'll bring with me from Hell to torture him,  
The hateful monster hag Tisiphone,  
Upon whose ugly loathsome carrion skin:  
Feed hissing Snakes the Imps of cruelty.  
That they may dangling hang upon his hair.  
That (frighted with the hissing) may despair.   

If she deny to aid my loves distress,  
I'll to the Sea, and there I will complain,  
To lovely Thete's she's not pitiless,  
That if the founder of thy woes remain,  
Upon her silver waves, rough seas shall rise,  
And on his shipwrecked soul shall tyrannize.    

XXIX.  

I'll Likewise to the Mother Earth deplore,  
And all my hearts deep wounds to her make known,  
That if the Traitor range upon the shore,  
Her cruelty upon him shallbe shown.  
Heaven, Earth, Sea, Hell, I'll woe them with the Sun,  
To make him taste of woe, that woe begun.   

Say Elanira, speak my love divine,  
Sweet soul (said I) why standest thou thus amazed,  
heart, Life, and Soul, and all I have is thine,  
Like one affrighted still on me she gazed.  
Until, as forth of trance she was removed,  
Thus she began and told me that she loved.   

Kind Knight, Lord all admired, my dearest friend,  
Beauties Champion, the Prince of Chivalry,  
Thy forward mind, and valour I commend,  
Ne make I doubt of thy true loyalty.  
Then in a word the founder of my woe,  
Is a proud Britain Dame Silla my foe.    

XXX.  

THis Dame (quoth she) a neighbouring Castle by  
Doth keep, whose fair indeed I must confess,  
Is too too fair graced with a wanton eye,  
Whose beauty then my fair is nothing less,  
Were she but dead, then should I never moon,  
For with her death my heavy woes were done.   

Pleaseth my love? nay pray thee stay (quoth she)  
I know thou'lt say, thou wilt perform the deed,  
But be advised, be slow in cruelty,  
I wish her dead, yet would not have her bleed,  
May not this act some other way be done,  
And force no blood: said I, let me alone.   

But all this while the other lovesick Lords,  
Were banqueting to pass the weary time,  
Love to my love, and me no cates affords,  
Save precious Nectar from pure love divine.  
With that she willed me to a window come,  
To show me where this murder must be done.    

XXXI.  

TAking my humble leave as lovers use,  
I bade farewell, the like she did return.  
I wished her dread no ill, ne to refuse,  
To oil those outworn Lamps that could not burn.  
For want of her sweet comfort blessed sun,  
Until the scene of this first act were done.   

She to the Knights, I to this Dame did go,  
With good intent, and not as Homicides,  
With thirsty hands for blood, ne like a foe,  
That for a pray himself in ambush hides.  
Though love enforced me grant what she desired,  
My heart denied to act what she required.   

When to the portal of this stately Tower,  
I did approach, (amazed at the sight)  
I stood admiring, deaming it some bower,  
Or Summer mansion house of sweet delight.  
Or else the residence of some demi-god,  
Or some rich Court where love made his abode.    

XXXII.  

A Valiant man at arms, a warlike knight,  
Clad in rich Armour of pure beaten gold,  
Stands to encounter with each wandering wight,  
Of courage fierce, to Combat wondrous bold,  
(Dismounted of my Steed) I 'gan salute him;  
And as a foreign Knight, thus 'gan to greet him.   

Courteous Lord, if thou be courteous,  
To such as proffer nought but courtesy,  
Grant me access unto the virtuous,  
And all admired Queen of Chastity.  
Thy Lady and Mistress so she seems to be,  
Whose beauty thou maintain'st by Chivaltie.   

If by entreaty I may be so happy,  
As to obtain the grant of my desire,  
Freely to have access unto the Lady,  
Whose grace and virtues all the world admires.  
What, dost thou frown before my tale be ended?  
Then do thy worst, Iscorne to be befriended.    

XXXIII.  

SParks let to burn, break into fiery flames,  
Flames not put out, consume what ere they tuch,  
Touch where it will, the fire nothing frames,  
But burns and spoils all, were it twice as much.  
My sword the fire, the spoil his heart blood is,  
Which I enforced the cold base earth to kiss.   

Down down he fell, my force enforced him down,  
Down to the low laid bowels of the dust,  
Dust to the dust I threw, with dust did frown.  
And frowning spoke his last, die die I must:  
Must is for a Queen, therefore meet for me,  
For whose sweet sake I framed this Tragedy.   

Leaving the lifeless body on the ground,  
Clad with the golden breastplate of my foe,  
Secure I entered in whereas I found,  
Fair Silla dancing with a hundredth more.  
Well qualified Virgins all in white,  
Whose glorious splendour made the room more light.    

XXXIIII.  

Dark grew the place at my first gazing on them,  
Dark as the gloomy day or sable night,  
No sooner was I in, and looked upon them,  
But Silla fled amazed at the sight:  
The day grows dark when as it wants the Sun,  
(The Princes fled) the Lady's sport was done.   

I seeing this fair Lady fly me fro,  
As fearful does from hunter's fierce pursuit  
Who overtoyled can no further go,  
But in some brake lie close as dead and mute.  
So did I chase this pretty Do so fur,  
That (being faint) fell down and could not stur.   

'Bout whom her Virgins framed a pretty fort,  
Linking their ivory fingers one in one,  
As did Diana's Nymphs in self same sort,  
Lamenting her mishap with much moan.  
Silla amazing stared me in the face,  
Admiring much how I came to that place.    

XXXV.  

THe yielding chained for't I broke in sunder,  
And clasping Silla in my gentle arms,  
I took her up as forth a drowsy slumber,  
Vowing to shield her from ensuing harms.  
Fear not (said I) sweet Lady fear no harms,  
Thy guard my sword shallbe, thy bed my arms.   

Hereat dead Silla 'gan revive again,  
Recovering former sense these words she said,  
heavens warrior, Hell conqueror, earths captain,  
A thousand welcomes to a silly maid.  
More than a man thou art, less cannot be;  
Thy valiant looks foreshows great Chivalry.   

Wert thou not hardy, thou hadst near come here▪  
But tell me gentle Knight, how scapest thou death?  
The Lord that kept me from thy sight sweet dear,  
By dint of sword I sword his vital breath.  
Dead lie his corpse in place where he was slain,  
Near on my life will he revive again.    

XXXVI.  

IF then (quoth she) my guerdon thou do deem of,  
Supply that place of honour, and my love:  
Which small preferment if my Lord esteem of,  
My firm vowed favour never shall remove.  
Serve me but daily, I am thine for ever,  
What day forbids, at night we'll do together.   

I list not ask, ne do I care to know,  
The cause that moved thee to adventure life,  
Unless for favour: tell me is it so,  
If so? I yield, to banish further strife.  
Why do I thus with words beguile the time,  
And make not use of him, that's wholly mine?   

Come, come my love, my hand would feign be doing,  
Meet me half way▪ and then we be united,  
The fort is won, thou needest no other wooing,  
Give me thy heart it shall be well requited.  
heart, hand and all what ere I have is thine,  
Yield thou as much, and be thou likewise mine.    

XXXVII.  

Why standest thou amazed worthy Knight,  
Canst thou not love, or dost thou scorn to love?  
Thou seest my palace freighted with delight,  
Whose endless pleasures never shall remove.  
Oh canst thou see a Lady weep, that loves thee,  
And cannot pity to some pity move thee?   

Be but my love, and from Elysium,  
I'll charm sweet Orphey for our more delight,  
Who can enforce the beasts to dance that's dumb,  
And likewise hold the fleeting birds from flight,  
Who stays swift rivers with his melody,  
And cause the trees pursue his harmony.   

Nay more I will to Paphos take my way,  
Where sacred beauty hath her residence,  
And charm her senses that sweet music play,  
And force them wait upon thy excellence,  
What canst thou wish, that shall not be effected?  
But yet I see my love is quite rejected.    

XXXVIII.  

I that gave hearing to her wanton words,  
When all her idle chat was well concluded:  
My sad reply no comfort sweet affords,  
'tis folly, with kind words to be delded;  
I nought do sing but death and misery,  
Fair Elanira wills, and you must die.   

Oh short lived joy (quoth she) and 〈◊〉 be,  
That I am thus betrayed of my foe:  
O welcome death, strike, strike, I pardon thee,  
And since I needs must die, let it be so.  
I never wronged her sacred deity,  
That she should seek my woeful tragedy.   

My weeping eyes freighted with liquid tears▪  
To hear my silver swan sing so by rote,  
Oh how her lamentation dulled mine ears,  
How my poor heart in pity's sea did float.  
To hear her young, (poor Virgins) wail & weep,  
How their discording plaints, no mean could keep.    

XXXIX.  

SIlla that prostrate lay at mercy's feet,  
I did upheave, and took her by the hand,  
Whom, (after her sad passions) thus did greet,  
Be ruled by me, (quoth she) at your command.  
Though contrary to kind; yet do but this,  
And on mine honour it will prove thy bliss.   

To life, or death, do what you will (quoth she)  
I condescend and long to hear my doom,  
Then thus said I, you must transformed be,  
And from a Lady, a worthy Knight become.  
If this be all to further your desire,  
I will forthwith provide me such attire.   

Clad like two worthy Knights, we both together,  
March to the palace of my Lady love:  
Next day with early Titan we came thither,  
Approaching nigh, descending from above.  
A lofty Tower, my love cast down such beams,  
As not from Phoebus' throne more bright rays streams.    

XL.  

I gazing on my love, the Sun that shone,  
Casting sweet comfort on the low laid ground,  
From of the top of loves sweet mansion,  
Received from love a three times deeper wound.  
Which love perceiving to recure the same,  
Descended from above and down she came.   

First we embrace, and then to kissing fall,  
From kisses to embracements turn agaie,  
Then 'gan I tell a feigned tragic tale,  
How Silla and her Virgins all were slain.  
She ravished seemed to hear that tale of woe,  
(Sylla by standing) and the tale not so.   

Not Silla then but Florus I did name her,  
Whom I presented to fair Elanire,  
How pale the Lady looked but could I blame her,  
Being a Princess in a Knight's attire.  
Short tale to make, so much her friend I proved,  
That in the Court she was entirely loved.    

XLI.  

THree souls in one, in one close senseless Chamber,  
Silla, myself and fairest Elanire,  
Whose glittering hair shone like the chased amber,  
Of force to force immortal eyes admire.  
Within that closet close which we were in,  
A false discourse of murder I begin.   

Fair glory of honour beauteous Elanire,  
Since for your love I did adventure life,  
Vowing by holy oath near to retire:  
Until death ceased the instrument of strife,  
Thy love sweet love's returned with victory,  
Then grant me guerdon for her tragedy.   

Thy honour's prize, (quoth she) shallbe my soul,  
My endless love, my store and all that's mine,  
No Knight within my Court shall thee control,  
No mortal Prince shall check thee all divine,  
Divine thou art because thou art my love,  
Self of myself, descended from above.    

XLII.  

AS many weary steps, as love hath gone,  
So many kind embracements will I give thee:  
Thy sword shrill echoes, ten kisses sweet for one,  
For one blow single, gentle love believe me:  
Promise is debt and debt shallbe repaid,  
Receive thy dew to kiss be not afraid.   

Art thou ashamed, belike this knight in place,  
(Speaking by Silla) hinders thy intent,  
Tush man for love 'tis lawful to embrace:  
To kiss and wanton where true love is meant.  
If kisses and embracements will not serve thee,  
We le find more dainty cates, I will not slain thee.   

As she did descant on these wanton themes,  
Terrors alarms sounded in our ears,  
Whereat we 'mazed, as a soul that dreams,  
Frighted in sleep with thousand sundry fears.  
And as I thought a like reply to frame,  
An hundred Knights into the chamber came.    

XLIII.  

THe rumour which good truth did verify,  
Was, that a multitude of Quondam Lovers,  
Came for reveuge for Silla's tragedy:  
Whose warlike troops the grass-green meadow covers.  
Short tale to make Silla against Silla fought,  
Philochasanders' policy so wrought.   

A greater warrior Britain never bred,  
Before the battles joined, unto the field,  
Fair Elarina's troops by him were led,  
The skirmish done, his enemies 'gan yield.  
Some fled, some fearful died, some others slain,  
Which honour unto Silla did pertain.   

Silla supposed Florus, to whom the Knight,  
Philochasander Prince of Chivalry,  
Did willing yield the honour of the fight,  
And made her famous in the Victory.  
(All things concluded, they two worn lovers,)  
Philochasander Silla then discovers.    

XLIIII.  

GReat admiration bred this accident,  
The virtuous love of Silla to her foe,  
That sought her death, yet ever permanent,  
To honour her, that sought her overthrow.  
When Elanira on good Silla gazed,  
Oh how the blushing Lady was amazed.   

How many Dames affords this wilful age?  
How many Silla's is there to be found?  
How many women can revenge assuage  
And bury mortal anger under ground?  
As Silla did, for which as erst before,  
Fair Elanira did her joys restore.   

Philochasander, where is such another,  
That can endure the sorrow he hath borne?  
What man is he, to aid his dearest brother,  
Will were loves weary yoke, as he hath worn?  
Do good to all, though you be tyrannized,  
That 'bove the Sphere, your souls be cannonized.  
Omne simile non est Idem.